Valentine's Day

Some people love Valentine's Day, and then others hate it. I'm kind of neutral on the whole day. I love the day because it's an excuse to eat conversation hearts all day long until my stomach hurts. I've only officially had a "Valentine" twice in my life. The first ended up being one of my best guy friends, the other eventually became my dating anti-Christ. So I'm 50-50 when it comes to good "Valentines."

Take away all the flowers, balloons, Hallmark cards and candy (I'm eating conversation hearts as I write this), and Feb. 14 is just another day.

Not anymore for me!

Feb. 14 marks the one-year anniversary of when I was officially out of the hospital, and Humpty Dumpty was put back together again.

I had my final surgery to put my skull flab back on my head in early Feb., but I ended up staying about a week after the surgery instead of the usual two days. Anything that could have gone wrong did - I had a massive migraine after the surgery and sat in the dark in intense pain for two days, my white blood cell count got extremely low so everyone in my room had to done hospital mask. This are just a few of the bumps in the road to recovery. I also had to get cleared by 6 different doctors before I could leave. Not quite as bad as getting a bill passed through Congress, but pretty darn close.

But I had a goal - I would be home by Valentine's Day. The year before I spent part of Valentine's Day in the emergency room with a kidney stone. I didn't want a repeat. So I let my entire team of doctor's, nurses, family and friends know I wanted to be home by Valentine's Day.

The final doctor to sign off was my hematologist (blood doctor). On Feb. 13, he was still concerned about my blood levels and thought I should leave the hospital with a full tank. So he ordered 3 units of blood, which didn't start until late in the afternoon. It took over an hour for each unit and then I had to wait an hour after it was all done before I could leave. I was watching the clock tick and praying that blood drip faster.

Luckily my amazing nurses knew I was determined to be home by Valentine's Day, so my day nurse made sure all my discharge papers were ready to go. And as that last hour came to a close, my poor night nurse said I was clear to go. I say poor night nurse because she said she's only discharged a patient at night one other time. She was a little concern she might overlook something - but the day nurses had everything set and she knew she wasn't going to stop me from leaving.

It was 11:58 on Feb. 13 when I finally walked in the door at my parents house. It might have been close but goal was achieved.

Now Valentine's Day isn't about Prince Charming showing up with a dozen roses anymore. It's about embracing this second chance at life God has given me and enjoying every minute of it.

I was at Kroger tonight buying groceries, and I also picked up some Valentine's treats and a bottle of red wine. They're not for me to eat on Valentine's Day to drown my sorrows about being single on another Valentine's Day - it's to celebrate my one-year anniversary of a new life. I'm just thankful Hallmark pulls out all the stops to celebrate too!

A Dozen Red Roses

If you go into any grocery store this week, you'll find dozens of red roses all bundled up to give to your sweetheart. For some reason a dozen red roses are twice the price around Valentines. But a dozen red roses mean more to me than just a gift on the Hallmark holiday.  The remind me of the women who instilled in me a love of flowers - my grandmother.

Frances Teel, or Mamaw as she's better known, has taught me that "fresh flowers are a necessity not a luxury." Nothing can bring more life to a room than fresh flowers. It's why we send flowers to say "I love you," "I'm sorry" and "Get well soon." As I write this, I have pink tulips (one of my favs) in a vase on my coffee table.

I stopped by the grocery store on Friday to pick up a dozen red roses to take down to the lake with me today. Every visit I have with Mamaw is special and a fresh set of roses brightens her eyes. See Mamaw has recently been put on hospice care. After almost 10 years of fighting several diseases including congestive heart failure, the doctors are saying her body just can't fight anymore. Trust me, her spirit is still there. But her body is failing her. They're keeping her comfortable, and every day she remains with us is a blessing.

It's hard to fully grasp the implications of hospice care. For me is just doesn't seem real. When I got on a plane in 2010 to move to Spain to finish college, I cried because I thought I would never see my Mamaw again. But she bounced back, as she's done several times since. But this time is different. And every time I drive up the bump-bump road away from their house on the lake, I wonder if that was the last time I would see her alive. Did I saw goodbye my last time? Was that my last hug?

But when I think like that, I turn back to red roses. They bring life, and they bring happiness. When I brought the red roses to Mamaw today, I first sat down to start chatting with her - taking in every moment I could. But I quickly got up as I was ordered by Mamaw to put those roses in a vase to put on her bedside table (see I told you her spirit was still fully intact). It was only after I cut the roses at an angle, like she taught me, and put them into a class vase, just like she taught, that I was able to sit down and chat. And while I can't stay down at the lake every minute, I know that sitting next to her are a dozen red roses that show her that I love her.

Just like she taught me before, "fresh flowers are a necessity, not a luxury."

I'm back

Recently a friend of mine asked me why I haven't updated my blog in awhile. I couldn't come up with an answer other than I just stopped - life is what happened. She said she enjoyed reading it, and encouraged me to get back in.

"A story of faith, food and fellowship," has morphed since I first blogged. I started the blog about two years ago when I was first diagnosed with Crohn's disease as a way to chronicle my dealing with the disease and trying new treatments. After I suffered a stroke in September 2011, my blog became part of my recovery as a way for me to keep people updated and put into words what many times I couldn't say about what I was going through.

I don't quite know where the blog is going now, but I know I want to keep writing. I enjoy writing, and I missed it. So here it goes.

That same friend who encouraged me to start blogging again recently lead a retreat for teenage girls at my church. I was one of the counselors, but I think I took away just as much as the teenage girls. During a Q&A session, she was asked how to be a successful writer. Her reply was read, and read a lot. So in honor of her advice, I figured I would restart my blog by making two reading suggestions from authors I personally know and trust.

The first book is "Perfectly Unique" by Annie Downs, who happens to be the person who advised me to blog again.

The book is written for teenage girls. But anyone who knows a teenage girl or has ever been a teenage girl should read this. Using humor and stories, Annie explains how all your body parts, from head to foot, connect you to God. Your mind plays an important role is your relationship with God. What you think directly influences how you act. Many of the things that keep us from having an intimate relationship with God start from lies dwelling in our mind. I've teased your with revealing one piece, you'll have to read the book to learn more. I promise you'll come away thinking differently, and you'll laugh along the way.

The second book is by another woman I admire and respect - "Rescuing Hope," by Susan Norris.

I will caution you that this book will ruin you - but in a good way. Susan tells the fictional story of "Hope," an all-American girl who gets sucked into the horrible world of sex trafficking. Unfortunately sex trafficking is a big business in America, taking the young lives of teenage girls. As someone who mentors teenage girls at church, it was hard reading this book and not seeing their faces in Hope. I've "yelled" at Susan twice about the book. The first was I thought it was a good idea to finish reading it while sitting a table at La Parilla. I speak Spanish and knew exactly what the waiters were saying about the crazy girl crying in the booth. The second was she has ruined the song "Restoration" for me. I can't sign that song without crying now. I challenge you to try reading the book and not finish it asking what can I do to fight against this horrible crime.

I hope you're all glad I'm back. Even if nobody follows my blog, I'm glad to be back doing something I love.  Who knows what'll come next...