Um, well, yeah.

October 21, 2008

I guess this would be hello. You know, to the six, now down to twoish of you reading. Would it help to say that I didn’t mean to be away from this blog for so long. Yeah yeah, like you care, right?

But assuming that maybe someone cares, I’ll try to catch up a wee bit.


We went on a cruise this summer. Cruise lines like to nickel and dime one to death, or at least this one did. But the Caribbean is gorgeous. And family is fun to travel with, and I’m not just saying that because my mother-in-law reads my blog occasionally. The kids loved the whole trip, and they ate like kings and a queen (especially Dan who bemoaned my lack of making five course dinners when we got home). Stingrays are cool. Balconies off your room are an absolute treasure. And snorkeling is holy.

Abby started her new school and overall has adapted with great aplomb. The work load is much much harder and heavier. As a direct result of this, I know more about the chemical element francium (about which Abby wrote and essay and made a poster) than anyone who isn’t a chemist should ever even consider. I’m thinking that it will make me a hit at cocktail parties. Since I get invited to so many of them.

Rob and Dan have had a challenging fall. Tragically, their dear friend’s mom passed away from cancer right before school started. She is a lovely and dear woman who loves (and I say this in the present tense because I know her to be in heaven) her family and God. But oh the sadness of it all.  You know the expression, “Little kids, little problems; Big kids, bigger problems”?  Answering or trying to answer the boys’ questions about grief…teaching them to come alongside another in his grief…Rob and Dan are learning compassion and how to express love in ways that most eight year olds don’t, and golly I love them for that.  But watching your kids learn about the agonies and injustices of this life is still pretty heart-breaking.

Tim, in his consulting job, has moved from one retailer to another.  And that’s all good.  He’s in Columbus and he’s employed in a job he likes.  We count the blessings there.

And I am having spinal fusion surgery on November 5.  Please oh please, friends, this might not be the time to tell me the story of your Aunt Carol or your cousin’s boyfriend’s brother who had completely crappy back surgery.  It’s like this:  I hurt ALL the time.  I can only sit for short periods without feeling like a rubber band has been pulled taut around my lower spine.  I wake up in the morning feeling like someone has put a hot poker in my spine (hmm…maybe Tim has hidden anger issues?).  After I drive for a bit, I get out of the car and I actually stoop when I walk for a while.  I know the risks, and I know the possible rewards, and I know that the recovery is a bitch and a half.  Heck, I’m in the hospital for 3-5 days, which I think might be longer than my father stayed when he had open heart surgery in 2001, so yeah.  Wow.  But I’ve tried everything non-surgically possible on and off for the last six years and I’m getting worse all the time.  My parents’ health situations are reasonably steady right now, and as many of you know, that could change with one phone call at 3:00 am (which seems to be when most bad phone calls take place for some reason).  So I am seizing the opportunity, so to speak.  I have a very conservative surgeon who has told me the whole ugly truth and still thinks that he can help me significantly, or he wouldn’t do the surgery.

Prayers here are appreciated of course.  Prayers for little things like, oh, how in the heck my kids will get home from school during the period I can’t drive.  Prayers for my kids, who to varying degrees and in a myriad of ways, are in a white hot panic about Mom having surgery and being gone for so long.  Prayers for Tim as he tries to keep all things afloat around here while I lie around and moan.  And yes,  yes, prayers that this damn surgery works.  I don’t anticipate ever being pain free, this side of getting my heavenly body, but I want to function at such a higher level and feel at least somewhat better.

And this time, I’ll try to go fewer than three months without posting.  Okay?  I miss my internet folks.  So, for my fragile ego, and to make sure someone has read this, please for the love of…well, please comment.  Thanks.


8 Responses to “Um, well, yeah.”

  1. bethkoruna said

    That’s you, John. Always catering to my fragile ego. Thanks.

  2. julie said

    I almost gave up hope….Yippee!!!

  3. Kristen said

    You know I’m here and reading (and still waiting for that recipe!).

  4. Erica said


    Good, I missed you.

    Who will be handling your meals during surgery and will they sign me up?

  5. If there’s anything (read ANYTHING) we can do, please do not hesitate to ask. We live so close I’m sure we can help with something. I feel kinda bad about my whiny e-mail I sent to you. Here you are going through real pain and tragedy and I whine about…well not much actually. I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t offend!

  6. Beth said

    Erica — Kimberly Boyer is handling meals — and my goodness, I would *fake* surgery or tragedy to get a meal from you!! Or I suppose I could just invite you over. Hmmm. that would be A LOT easier than having surgery!

    Sean — I never ever thought of your e-mail as whiny! I was just so glad to hear from you. We must get together — but how did our kids get so very old? Hopefully, that doesn’t mean that we are getting older.

  7. Beth said

    Oh and thanks guys…Words can’t fully express how you both have made my day.

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