Catch Up

For most of the last week, I've relied on shorter, more impersonal posts or posts that I jotted down before Spring Break and only put up last week. Spring Break was just busy with family time, which is as it should be. Now I'll play a little catch up.

Here are the pictures from our time camping, which lasted almost the full week.

What's camping without a campfire?



A little football between friends, Tyler and Clay.



Spencer spent nearly the whole week wearing his bike helmet, even if he wasn't biking. Because it makes more sense to keep it on so that you can hop on your bike at a moment's notice. Anyway, his hair showed constant sweat tracks consistent with helmet head. I don't think you can see it too well in this picture, one of a handful of times that the helmet was actually removed. But you can see a bit of Spencer's true nature here. He's a pistol.



We eventually got kicked off of the playground. Evidently, that part of the park is not open until the first of April. Go figure. One would think that the campers could enjoy ALL of the facilities, but not so. Still, a bit of fun was had by all before our unceremonious exit.







And here is a picture of poor Spencer after I socked him in the nose with the ball. Who knew that innocent-looking plaything could be so lethal?



After a bit of hugging time, he was as good as new, though.

Allison enjoyed digging in the dirt with rocks.



And all three of them started a rousing game of volleyball, played with a beach ball provided by another boy who was camping, too. But in no time, Allison's interest waned and she was back to playing in the dirt while the boys continued the game.



Bruce took Friday off from work and towed the camper back to our house early in the morning. When he got home, he kept the kids while I headed to Cookeville to visit my family there.

Grandpa was given the option on Thursday, after more than a week and a half in the hospital, to have a feeding tube inserted. He refused and was then transported to a nearby nursing home to finish recuperating from the pneumonia.

When I arrived late Friday afternoon, grandpa seemed disoriented, tired and still very ill. The coughing hurt to watch and hear. He did some physical therapy, too, which is good. The original thought was for him to spend about two weeks in the nursing home, regaining his strength, but the physical therapist said it might take longer to get him back on his feet.

That is not going to be easy. Each time I visited grandpa, he made some statement about "getting out of here" or how he didn't plan to be there the following week.

Grandpa is sleeping a lot, coughing more, and eating very little. It's terrible to see one of the strongest men I've ever known in that state. And it's worse to realize how much he hates it.

He is supposed to be drinking only water that has been thickened to a gel-like state, to prevent him from swallowing it wrong and the liquid going down into his lungs.

But he's stubborn and not above being sneaky when it suits his purpose. Before I left to come home Sunday afternoon, he told me he convinced some guy who worked there, but didn't know better, to get him a glass of water. So I went to the nursing station and "told on" him. I asked them to keep all their staff better informed and write something stating that he could not have water.

When I went back to his room, he kept asking me to get him some water. It nearly killed me to refuse.

But I am not above being sneaky when it suits my purpose either, so I tried to guilt him into seeing things my way by saying, "If I give you water and it goes down wrong, you'll get sicker and be here longer. How do you think that would make me feel?"

I could tell I was really frustrating him. And it is not normal for our roles to be so reversed, so it frustrated me as well. It was the worst time I had visiting with him the whole weekend.

Finally, he cut me some slack and I could see his usual humor slip through. He told me I was being bossy. I shot back, "Who do you think I get that from?"

And then even later, he said he was going to "tell on" me. To my 5-year-old daughter and his great granddaughter, who he really favors more than he should but I can't bring myself to discourage. (My boys don't realize it, so it's fine.) He planned to inform Allison of how mean I was being. I told him she was already well aware of that fact from firsthand experience.

It was a bittersweet visit. I stayed at grandpa's empty house between times at the nursing home. And while I always long for some rare silence while in my own home, I realized how very lonely total solitude can be. And how that is exactly what my grandpa has to look forward to when (if) he gets back home.

I did have some good discussion with my older brother and dad over the weekend. And I got to pick at my nephews a bit and see them behave like total Big Boys while eating at a Chinese restaurant with me and their daddy when my sister-in-law worked late one evening. I also made time for lunch with Bruce's brother and his wife, which is always so nice.

Still, within 20 minutes of returning home, I went upstairs alone to our master bath and just bawled like a baby. Sometimes it just feels overwhelming to know there's nothing you can do to ease someone else's discomfort, except pray. And I'm sure that's how Bruce felt when he found me a few minutes later and just held me while I continued to sob.

Early Sunday morning before visiting grandpa, I had a breakfast of coffee and a bagel. I flipped on the TV and watched a televised church service since I was missing services at my own church. The Bible verses for the sermon were no coincidence.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
Matthew 11:28-30