My Mother got out of rehab after her stroke. She was doing pretty well, but she needed someone to stay with her during the day. My father did that mostly during the week along with a woman he hired. On Sundays, Daddy was the interim pastor of a church, so I was put in charge of being with Mother on Sunday mornings. As I wrote earlier, I was very active in the church and a big part of the Singles Sunday School Department. Since I could no longer go to church, most people knew the situation and supported me in my decision.
About six months after my Mother's stroke, I got a letter in the mail from my Sunday School class. It was from a woman that I didn't know, and she apparently didn't know me. She wrote that they missed me being in Sunday School and hoped everything was all right with me. She had no clue why I had been gone. Two of the church's ministers had hurt me by ignoring me at the hospital, and now this woman had written me a somewhat generic letter of concern. I had grown up in that church. I had been very active in that church. Now, I felt the church was turning its back on me.
My friend Del was a member at St. Andrews Baptist Church. I also knew the pastor quite well, because he used to be my pastor at my old church. I joined St. Andrews. I liked that church a lot, even though I was not as active as my previous church. Later on, we got a new minister who liked to have Drama done during services. A friend and I started a Drama group in the church. I wrote several skits that were used to support the pastor's sermons. I stayed at that church for almost 20 years.
Tuesday, September 25, 2018
Saturday, September 15, 2018
Caregiver
I had been living with my parents to care for them, since I moved back to Columbia from Ft. Worth in 1979. In exchange, they let me live with them for free. It was a good arrangement. I was able to work and travel, but at the same time I took care of them and notified others when I would be gone.
In 1991, I was looking to go to Williamsburg with my friends Del and Chris. We wanted to go to Busch Gardens and ride roller coasters, as well as visit Jamestown. We rented a car. We got there and toured the area. After leaving Jamestown, we were almost involved in a head-on collision. The rental's battery also died. Upon getting that fixed, we went to Busch Gardens. The park was fantastic. On one roller coaster, I was going downhill toward a lake. As I was screaming, a bug flew into my mouth. It was not good for me or the bug. Adjacent to the park was the beer factory. We got to see how beer was made. At the end of the tour, they offered free samples. I had been sober for 7 years, so I declined. There was a 17 year old boy on our tour who wanted the excess samples. So, we all gave our beer to him. As we were on the trolley to take us back to the park, the boy was standing up. You could tell the beer was starting to take effect. The trolley lurched, and he fell flat on his face. It was pretty funny.
When we left Williamsburg, we decided to drive down the coast toward Myrtle Beach. It was a very long journey passing through small towns with even smaller speed limits. We finally got to our destination. We stopped at a miniature golf course. As we were playing, a thunderstorm rolled in. We ran to a nearby shelter carrying our golf clubs. Smart move. Carrying lightning rods. Thankfully, we weren't struck by lightning. We then left Myrtle Beach. The traffic was bad, so we tried to bypass it all and got hopelessly lost. We drove around the upper part of SC for quite a while until we came to I-77. Everyone has GPS now, but back then we didn't even have a map.
We got back home and went to our separate homes. The next morning, my Mother had just cooked breakfast and went in her bedroom to rest. She did that a lot. My father and I were in the living room reading the newspaper. I saw something that I thought my Mother would find interesting and went into her bedroom to read it to her. She was babbling. I couldn't understand her. I was perplexed and went back into the living room. I sat there for a minute and then remarked to Daddy that something seemed wrong with Mother. He went into her room and came out frantic. "Call 911! Get an ambulance!" I did. The ambulance came and took her to Baptist Hospital. Daddy was distraught, so I drove both of us to the hospital behind the ambulance.
When we got to the hospital, we went into the ER waiting room. Daddy was crying. I was sitting nearby, having a hard time processing what was going on. The doctor came out and told us that Mother had a massive stroke. As we were sitting there, word spread that Mother was in the hospital in serious condition. Our pastor and music minister came running into the waiting room. They went right past me to my father. They didn't even acknowledge my existence. Two church staff members came running in and saw me sitting alone. They came over to me and asked me how I was doing. I have never forgotten their kindness. I had done many things for that church. I had written Stewardship dramas. I was in the choir. I had helped organize the Singles Sunday School class. I had been on mission trips. None of that seemed to matter to some. It quite frankly hurt my feelings.
I called my brother, and he came to help. Mother stayed in the hospital for some time and then went on to HealthSouth to rehab. She got a little better over time but was never the same. I was her caregiver, and I dropped the ball. I felt guilty for years that had I acted sooner that her paralysis would not have been so bad. I just saw her condition and didn't say anything for a few minutes. The doctors told me later that my response time would not have mattered. The damage had already been done. They told me I saved her life by getting her to the hospital in time. I guess I would have to dwell on that. Also that this happened after I got back from my vacation. I think God prepared me for it by being rested. What if I was in Williamsburg when she had her stroke? I think she would have probably died that day. I live in a world of "what ifs".
In 1991, I was looking to go to Williamsburg with my friends Del and Chris. We wanted to go to Busch Gardens and ride roller coasters, as well as visit Jamestown. We rented a car. We got there and toured the area. After leaving Jamestown, we were almost involved in a head-on collision. The rental's battery also died. Upon getting that fixed, we went to Busch Gardens. The park was fantastic. On one roller coaster, I was going downhill toward a lake. As I was screaming, a bug flew into my mouth. It was not good for me or the bug. Adjacent to the park was the beer factory. We got to see how beer was made. At the end of the tour, they offered free samples. I had been sober for 7 years, so I declined. There was a 17 year old boy on our tour who wanted the excess samples. So, we all gave our beer to him. As we were on the trolley to take us back to the park, the boy was standing up. You could tell the beer was starting to take effect. The trolley lurched, and he fell flat on his face. It was pretty funny.
When we left Williamsburg, we decided to drive down the coast toward Myrtle Beach. It was a very long journey passing through small towns with even smaller speed limits. We finally got to our destination. We stopped at a miniature golf course. As we were playing, a thunderstorm rolled in. We ran to a nearby shelter carrying our golf clubs. Smart move. Carrying lightning rods. Thankfully, we weren't struck by lightning. We then left Myrtle Beach. The traffic was bad, so we tried to bypass it all and got hopelessly lost. We drove around the upper part of SC for quite a while until we came to I-77. Everyone has GPS now, but back then we didn't even have a map.
We got back home and went to our separate homes. The next morning, my Mother had just cooked breakfast and went in her bedroom to rest. She did that a lot. My father and I were in the living room reading the newspaper. I saw something that I thought my Mother would find interesting and went into her bedroom to read it to her. She was babbling. I couldn't understand her. I was perplexed and went back into the living room. I sat there for a minute and then remarked to Daddy that something seemed wrong with Mother. He went into her room and came out frantic. "Call 911! Get an ambulance!" I did. The ambulance came and took her to Baptist Hospital. Daddy was distraught, so I drove both of us to the hospital behind the ambulance.
When we got to the hospital, we went into the ER waiting room. Daddy was crying. I was sitting nearby, having a hard time processing what was going on. The doctor came out and told us that Mother had a massive stroke. As we were sitting there, word spread that Mother was in the hospital in serious condition. Our pastor and music minister came running into the waiting room. They went right past me to my father. They didn't even acknowledge my existence. Two church staff members came running in and saw me sitting alone. They came over to me and asked me how I was doing. I have never forgotten their kindness. I had done many things for that church. I had written Stewardship dramas. I was in the choir. I had helped organize the Singles Sunday School class. I had been on mission trips. None of that seemed to matter to some. It quite frankly hurt my feelings.
I called my brother, and he came to help. Mother stayed in the hospital for some time and then went on to HealthSouth to rehab. She got a little better over time but was never the same. I was her caregiver, and I dropped the ball. I felt guilty for years that had I acted sooner that her paralysis would not have been so bad. I just saw her condition and didn't say anything for a few minutes. The doctors told me later that my response time would not have mattered. The damage had already been done. They told me I saved her life by getting her to the hospital in time. I guess I would have to dwell on that. Also that this happened after I got back from my vacation. I think God prepared me for it by being rested. What if I was in Williamsburg when she had her stroke? I think she would have probably died that day. I live in a world of "what ifs".
Monday, September 3, 2018
Legs
The store came up with an idea to have a Sexy Legs contest. They asked several men around the store to participate. I agreed just as a joke. We went to the Belk Advertising Department and were asked to take off our pants (of course in a private room). We then put on a white bathrobe to take the picture. One leg was exposed, and a Polaroid photo was taken. They only showed the leg, not any other part of the body. That way, the voters would only see the legs and not vote for the person.
The pictures were put up in the break room with a jar in front of each pictures. The idea was to have the other employees to vote for the sexiest legs by putting money into the jars. A penny counted as one vote. If they put in a dollar, that counted as 100 votes. The only people who knew whose legs were whose were two people in the Advertising Dept. and the "models".
My co-workers just knew that I was in one of those pictures, although I would neither confirm nor deny one was me. Then, they wanted to see my legs, but I refused. They felt that was a confirmation. Of course it was. Then, they tried to figure out based on the age or color of the legs. I never said which one was mine, but they figured it out. I got the most votes.
The money was given to charity. It was the first time I had ever won anything based on my looks (or my sexy legs). The only beauty pageant I ever entered. My legs have gotten less sexy now.
The pictures were put up in the break room with a jar in front of each pictures. The idea was to have the other employees to vote for the sexiest legs by putting money into the jars. A penny counted as one vote. If they put in a dollar, that counted as 100 votes. The only people who knew whose legs were whose were two people in the Advertising Dept. and the "models".
My co-workers just knew that I was in one of those pictures, although I would neither confirm nor deny one was me. Then, they wanted to see my legs, but I refused. They felt that was a confirmation. Of course it was. Then, they tried to figure out based on the age or color of the legs. I never said which one was mine, but they figured it out. I got the most votes.
The money was given to charity. It was the first time I had ever won anything based on my looks (or my sexy legs). The only beauty pageant I ever entered. My legs have gotten less sexy now.
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