I’ve heard that expression my entire life and it’s proven itself to be true in several different ways. The latest being my sister’s brush with death after her recent hip surgery.

My sister, Michel, went into the hospital on a Monday morning, thrilled to finally have the surgery she needed to put an end to her constant battle with hip pain, caused by the erosion of her right hip joint due to hereditary hip dysplasia. We never dreamed it would turn into a fight for her life.

Michel sailed through the surgery with no problem. In fact, after surgery, when her doctor showed us pictures of her new hip he made the observation that she definitely was one tough woman. The surgery revealed Michel had been walking “bone on bone” for so long she had actually worn groves in the bone itself. She had been dealing with extreme pain for a long time.

Which makes it all the more surprising that this same doctor turned a deaf ear and a blind eye when Michel started having chest pains, difficulty breathing, and hallucinations?

My niece, Suzanne, and I became concerned when other patients, who were operated on the same day and were significantly older than Michel, were buzzing down the hall for their daily physical therapy workouts. Michel, who required constant oxygen, was unable to get out of bed even for a brief bathroom trip, without gasping for air and grabbing her chest in pain. Questions to the nurses resulted in answers of “it’s a reaction to the pain medicine”, even though Michel had received no pain medicine for over two days.

And so began a journey that amazed my family and taught us many valuable lessons. When seeing that the nurses and even doctors attending Michel were less than interested in her care, Suzanne dug in her heels and began to wage a calm, dignified campaign to get her mother the care she so desperately needed.

Suzanne began keeping a log of her mother’s medicines – the doses and times they were administered. Which was a good thing, since the nurses couldn’t seem to remember what medicine was needed or when it was supposed to be given; and she made sure she was there every time a doctor was due for a visit. She patiently began questioning them about her mother’s lack of recovery and apparent downward spiral, making sure they knew exactly what Michel’s problems were. She never backed down, even when she was patted on the hand by a very patronizing surgeon and told she “didn’t need to worry about things like that”.

I’m sure he regretted those words when, the next day he ordered Michel to take a shower, go to physical therapy and be discharged to go home. The crisis occurred when a nurse, assisting with the shower, witnessed Michel almost lose consciousness, and double over in chest pain.

Now, let me just step in here and say that Suzanne is a college graduate and an extremely smart woman. After her first child was born, she chose to take the same path I, and many other women, have followed and is currently a stay at home mom to three young children. To stand toe to toe with medical professionals, question them and even politely disagree with them would be a difficult task for most people. Maybe more so for a woman who society might feel has taken the “easy way out”. I have to admit, the fact that, amid all of the medical professionals, my sister’s survival depended on the perseverance of two stay at home moms just boggles the mind.

The nurse, witnessing Michel’s obvious distress, called the doctor and emergency tests were performed. Not surprisingly, the tests revealed Michel had thrown multiple blood clots to both lungs, resulting in damage to her heart and lungs.

Believe me when I tell you things definitely changed and all of a sudden, the unconcerned, apathetic hospital workers became highly interested and motivated to ensure Michel received the care she needed.

Cardiologists and Pulmonologists were called in and, after reviewing her case, more than one doctor commented that Michel would have died if not for her daughter’s perseverance and determination.

As I write this, my sister isn’t out of the woods yet…she has over a year of daily blood thinners and monitoring her blood levels in her future as well as damage to her heart and lungs which may end up being permanent.

And yet, it could have been so much worse. Like I said, we’ve all learned lessons from this experience. Do not have any medical procedure done without thoroughly checking out the doctor and the hospital. A lot of suburban hospitals are quite good at what they do, but, often times, they are not equipped to deal with a patient who experiences life threatening complications.

Don’t EVER have a procedure done, even a minor one, without someone with you at all times. Don’t count on the medical staff to have your best interests at heart. Make sure you have your OWN advocate to speak for you, if you can’t speak for yourself.

And, finally, remember: It’s not the size of the daughter in the fight…it’s the size of the FIGHT in the DAUGHTER.

Thank you, Suzanne. (more)

Christmas came early for me this year. I got something I've been wanting for a long time. Not jewelry, clothes, an i phone or one of those snazzy new netbooks I've been wanting for so long (fire engine red, please, Santa?).

Nope, my gift came in a huge, concrete box with red polka dots scattered all through it. Give up? I'm talking about the new Super Target in Mesquite.

For years now, I've been wishing for a grocery store that carried everything I needed, all in one place, at the same time...quite a concept, isn't it? Apparently, it's very rare. At least it is where I live.

Oh, we have plenty of grocery stores - no question about that. But, just try and get everything on your list at one single store. I'm not talking anything rare and exotic. No almost-unheard-of-spice you'll use only once or twice in your entire lifetime.

No, I'm talking things like, fat free Pringle's potato chips, 8th Continent Soy milk, Pedigree Dentalstix for dogs, and Diet Peach Snapple. Very rare fare indeed, if you want to find it all at the same store. At least it WAS rare until Super Target opened their pearly gates and admitted me into my version of grocery store Heaven.

I admit I entered the store ready to be disappointed. I'd had high hopes for grocery stores before. Wal-Mart Market, The Wal-Mart Super Store, Tom Thumb, Albertson's and Kroger had all lured me in with vague promises of satisfying my hunter/gatherer needs by crossing every single item off of my grocery list all in one trip.

But, no matter how many chances I've given these stores, they've always left me with one or two items still on my list, which meant one or two trips to ANOTHER store. Believe me, there is nothing sadder than a woman with a packed shopping cart, trudging through the store looking for that last item she needs. It's like we're begging them to take our money, please?

Now, you might be wondering why I didn't just ASK the store about carrying those items? Well, been there, done that. When I asked the Asst. Manager at Wal-Mart Market about the Diet Peach Snapple, she assured me they didn't carry it anymore. (They did - it showed up at Wal-Mart Market two weeks later, AFTER I had made a special trip to Kroger's.)

During my trip to Super Target this week, I had to stop myself from joyfully skipping up and down the aisles. And, I admit to startling more than one customer by turning to them and blurting out: "Look, they have fat free Pringles in regular AND BBQ!" I also think I sobbed out loud a little when I saw the Shiritaki noodles in the produce section, but I don't think anybody noticed.

Yes, Super Target has earned a loyal customer this week, and it was so easy really. All they had to do was realize that consumers want to be offered quality and diversity, even in Mesquite, Texas.

Hmmmmm, a lack of diversity in Mesquite? Don't get me started. (more)

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It's that time of year again, the Back To School season. The signs are all there, if you know what to look for: stores with so many school supply displays they spill over into the garden section, kids sporting new backpacks, along with the latest popular lunchboxes, and neighborhood streets clogged with U-Haul trailers. Okay, that last one is probably only in neighborhoods like mine, where the babies have all grown up and are now preparing for their return trip to college life.

Notice I said "return trip to college". It's a pretty safe bet that students leaving for their first year of college don't require the use of a trailer. Actually, they could probably store everything they have room for in your average airplane overhead compartment; this I know from experience.

Most colleges require their students live on campus in a dorm room during their freshman year. Dorms are buildings with multiple cells, I mean rooms, crammed on several floors. When we took Joseph down to Texas A&M last year, we got our first look at the room where he'd spend the next eight months of his life. I managed to make it almost out of the parking lot before I started sobbing out loud. I've seen jail cells that were nicer than that room - and bigger, too.

By their second year of college, most students are done with the whole up close and personal aspect of dorm life and manage to find themselves an apartment that is within biking, walking or bus riding distance to campus. An apartment, while more expensive than a dorm, offers something most sophomores crave - MORE ROOM, PRIVATE BATHROOMS and REAL LIFE KITCHENS with working stoves and full sized refrigerators. No more trying to survive with a bar sized ice box, mini-crockpot and really micro-mini sized microwave.

Unfortunately, this also means that more of the parents' stuff will be making the trip to college with their child. So far, Joseph has looted my kitchen for sets of silverware, dishes, pots and pans, glasses, a coffee maker, casserole dishes, and another crockpot. Once I made the mistake of complaining about how heavy my enameled cast iron cookware was in front of him. Before the words were out of my mouth, he declared, "I'll take it." Ummmm, no you WON'T. He also wants my entire set of stainless steel pots and pans because "You never use them". Of course he'd think that - he doesn't make it into the kitchen until AFTER the food is on the table.

Truthfully, I don't mind if Joseph borrows some of my stuff, especially if it means he'll cook more and eat better. But, I'm not taking any chances. I'm going to engrave my name on everything he takes with him. After all, there's no telling WHAT he learned during his stay at the Big House. (more)

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Occasionally, I'll come across an article on how to determine our "real" age. Not your chronological age, mind you, but the age you are inside. Of course, the older I get the more I know that even if I AM a kid inside, it's the OUTSIDE age that's calling the shots.

These articles often show up on internet sites and are accompanied by short tests you can take to determine your "inside" age. I'm not allowed to take these internet tests because every time I try, my computer freezes up and has to be restarted. I have no idea why it does that. My youngest son says the computer probably has a virus, but the computer doesn't have a forehead to check for fever, so I'm not real sure how he knows it's sick.

Instead, I've come up with a sure-fire way to determine the true, inside age of ANYBODY with one simple question: How do you feel about mud?

I'll try and explain - the recent and almost unheard of rainfall we've gotten around here has resulted in our family having several up close and personal Close Encounters Of The Mud Kind. First, we encountered the challenge of keeping a very dedicated, hole digging, mud loving puppy from re-landscaping our entire back yard into something that closely resembled a nuclear bomb testing site - only with more holes.

Then our youngest was caught in a surprise rainstorm during a game of disc golf. For those of you who have no idea what disc golf is, let me tell you that disc golf is someone's latest money-making brainstorm. It's a game, very similar to regular golf, but instead of clubs, players use small discs, similar to miniature frisbees. These discs are sold at sporting good stores and specialty disc golf stores (I'm not even kidding about that), and cost anywhere from $10.00 - $20.00 (just as in real golf, there are different discs for different shots..seriously). Of course, I've seen the EXACT same type of disc at the local dollar store for, oh, ONE DOLLAR, but I've been assured by hard core disc golf players (my two sons), that those discs, even though they look EXACTLY THE SAME are definitely different and obviously inferior. Whatever - back to the mud.

When caught in the torrential rainstorm, instead of stopping the game and running for cover, Joseph and his friend decided to play through, rain, mud and all and ended up having what Joseph said was the most fun game he'd ever played. They splashed through puddles, slid down trails and just basically wallowed around, stopping occasionally to let the rain wash some of the mud off.

When he got home, he stripped off his muddy clothes in the garage and came in the house with a huge smile on his face. He told his father and me about the wonderful time he'd had before he jumped straight into a hot shower. His father and I looked at each other and sighed that long-suffering parental sigh (you know the one). Roger took Joseph's shoes outside to hose the mud off and I started washing the mud encrusted clothes.

Later on that day, we were watching something on the Animal Planet about elephants. The narrator spoke about how much elephants love to take an occasional mud bath to help cool them down and protect them from insect bites. Footage was shown of several elephants, young and old, frolicking in a huge mud-hole, spraying mud on themselves and each other, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Roger looked at me and asked the following question: "Would you ever want to wallow in the mud?" I thought about it and the first thought that popped into my head was "Who's gonna clean all of that mess UP?"

AND THAT'S THE TRUE AGE TEST! If you are asked to wallow in the mud and the first thought that comes to mind is CLEANING UP THE MESS, I've got some bad news for you. You, my friend, are a GROWN UP. It's time to pack away our toys and sports gear and slip into our comfy no belt pants and slip on shoes. It's okay, though, we can't bend over far enough to tie the laces, anyway. (more)

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It was just a little hand, viewed through the rear window of the car in front of me in the drive thru lane. Just a little hand, waving slowly back and forth, fingers curling and uncurling, one at a time.

It was just a little hand, but it brought me to my knees. It reminded me of truths I know, but usually can manage not to think about. The fact that my boys have grown into men. I won't see their chubby baby hands reaching for things in wonder and curiosity again.

Those days went by so fast, although it seemed like it would last forever at the time. The day to day routine of babies and young children can wear you down with it's sameness. At the same time, it can rob you of the knowledge of just how precious that time really is. And it is precious, more precious than words can describe.

It is so precious that I am routinely inspired to stop mothers with young children in the store to tell them to cherish this time. (Yes, I'm one of THOSE annoying women). Most of the mothers look about as irritated as I was when dealing with my youngsters and I'm sure they think I'm out of my mind, or at the very least they wish I'd keep my opinions to myself.

If I had the chance to go back in time, would I do it differently? I'd like to think so...I'd like to think I'd view the beginning of my childrens' lives more like an adventure and less like a job. Something to be enjoyed and savored slowly with pajama days, middle of the week slumber parties and picnics in the backyard. To greet each day with the wonder at what the day could bring, instead of the rigidness of a schedule of chores, meals, and naps.

Maybe I'll get a second chance without going back in time. Some people say that's what grandchildren are for. I don't know if Roger and I will one day be blessed with grandchildren or not, but I hope so.

I hope I remember to savor the time and appreciate the view from a different perspective...that of watching my sons' adult hands, which are beautiful in this mothers' eyes, reaching for their own babies in love and wonder. (more)

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I know we're smack in the middle of a potential Swine Flu Pandemic, but even if we weren't, it would be nice if people showed one another some common courtesy.

I just got back from a trip to the main branch of our local library and, while I hate to admit it, I cut my visit short because I feared catching whatever the woman standing next to me was suffering from.

I was enjoying myself, browsing the best sellers' section, when a woman walked up to check out the selections. Only I'm betting she couldn't see too much due to the violent coughing fits she kept having. Now, while I'm not usually one to panic over catching some random germs, I have to admit that standing there listening to the woman hack and wheeze, then watch as she reached out and pulled a book from the shelf, definitely made me a little uneasy - okay, I admit it, I practically held my breath until I got out in the parking lot.

This just proves how very susceptible we are to the current panic over the spread of the latest biological scourge to hit...the Swine Flu. You can see evidence of concern all around us, from the prominent display of anti-bacterial hand sanitizer at Walgreens, to pictures in the media of people sporting a variety of Michael Jackson type face masks, and employees actually washing their hands in the restroom. People are becoming more worried every day.

Some of the reactions might be a little over the top, in my opinion. Countless public events are being canceled and, in fact, the entire Ft. Worth ISD has decided to cancel classes until May 11 (although I'm not sure what's so magical about May 11th).

Roger and I listened to this news with mixed reactions of fear and disbelief. Mine was mostly disbelief, his was mostly fear. Here's a tip: Want to strike terror into the heart of a professional educator? Just wait until summer break is so close they can feel it and tell them there's a chance you'll be slapping another week onto the end of the school year. But be warned - it's not a pretty sight, let me tell you.

I don't know how this whole Swine Flu scare will play out, but my guess is there will be more cases of the illness and, possibly, even more deaths, before it's over. I hope not, but I think it's smart if we all play it safe and use basic common sense.

Let's stock up on the hand sanitizer gel and if you're coughing up a lung, do us all a favor and STAY HOME! (more)