Dem Bones

Do you remember the Negro spiritual about “Dem Bones”?  It’s a musical description of part of a vision the Lord gave to the prophet Ezekiel. That revelation is recorded in chapter 37 of the Old Testament book that bears the prophet’s name.

The Lord takes Ezekiel into a valley full of dry bones and asks him, “Can these bones live?”  The prophet does not know the answer to that question, but when he speaks the words given to him by the Lord, “suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone…” (vs.7).

The song “Dem Bones” picks up on the image of the bones reconnecting and declares in the chorus “Dem bones, dem bones gonna’ live again. Oh hear the word of the Lord.”   The verses then picture exactly how those bones were put back together again: “The toe bone connected to the foot bone,
            the foot bone connected to the ankle bone,
            the ankle bone connected to the leg bone,
            the leg bone connected to the hip bone,
            the hip bone connected to the back bone,
            the back bone connected to the neck bone,   
            the neck bone connected to the head bone.
           Oh, hear the word of the Lord.”

I was reflecting on this image of re-connecting dry bones when a question popped into my mind: I wonder what the “lung bone” is connected to?  (Now friends, I successfully completed two courses in anatomy - one in college and one in nursing school - so I know there are no bones inside the lungs!  But that is the question that came to me!)

What IS the “lung bone” connected to?  I confess I think about my lungs quite often these days as they struggle to perform their respiratory responsibilities.  I’d be delighted to hear the word of the Lord about what lies ahead but I had not thought about connectedness.  Does my “lung bone” feel disconnected and alone like I sometimes do?

Of course not!  My “lung bone” is connected to my “heart bone,” the center of human life and vitality.  They work together, strengthening each other and me.  And my “heart bone” is connected to the “heart bones” of other people!  Every kind thought, warm greeting, or supportive prayer your “heart bone” sends my way strengthens my “heart bone” and empowers my “lung bone” to keep on keeping on! Thank you, thank you!  Perhaps that is as much of the word of the Lord as I can understand at this point in my life!

30 April 2019 - mshr

The Fine Art of Napping

  The Fine Art of Napping

No, I’m not talking about kid-napping or dog-napping, or theft of anything tangible. I’m referring to those blissful moments when I can close my eyes, lean my head back, relax all my muscles, and perhaps sleep!

This kind of napping is the most frequent item on my daily schedule these days. There’s a little variety with occasional doctor’s appointments but the rest of my time seems to be filled with naps. Since I am napping so often, I decided to do a bit of personal research on that phenomenon. The findings are still tentative because I have slept through most of them!

Why nap?  Because babies and cats should not be the only ones able to enjoy this pleasure.  All of us deserve times to close our eyes, turn down our ears, and drop out of our chaotic life and confusing world for few minutes.  Personally, I nap because I don’t have the energy to do anything else!

Where to nap?  Nearly anywhere, with some important exceptions.  Never nap in the driver’s seat of a vehicle that is moving, whether it is an airplane, a car, a riding lawn mower or a bicycle. Also, avoid napping while you are swimming or scuba diving. Unfortunate consequences could result if you ignore these warnings.

It’s usually best to nap on your own property.  However, allowances are often made for quiet naps in the theater during a boring play or concert or in church if the pastor gets too long-winded in the sermon.  If you nap in a public place, it’s fun to choose a visibly unstable position and then watch the expressions on the faces of those who pass by as you drift off to La La Land.

When to nap?  Anytime is great, whether you are tired, bored, or want to escape an unpleasant task awaiting you.  It’s usually advisable to allow time between snoozes for a meal or two, and maybe a bathroom break.

We usually consider naps to be daytime diversions.  However, if you are unlucky enough to have to work the “graveyard shift” during the night hours, naps are even more refreshing than in the daytime.  I detested the 11 to 7 shift but, of course, in health care had to work my share of those night hours.  I can’t count how many times I would wake up with my head resting on a stack of patient charts not yet signed off!

How to nap?  Everybody knows how to nap.  We were born doing it but growing up has taught us some bad habits such as taking on responsibilities and then worrying about how we will carry them out.  But if you can repent of adulthood for a few minutes, lie or sit down in a comfortable position, close your eyes, then imagine some beautiful places where you have been.  Before you know it, you will have traveled through Drowsytown and arrived in Slumberville.  That was easy, wasn’t it?  (The hard part is getting awake again!)

But naps do not necessarily involve sleep. A relax-a-nap is also quite restful.  That is when you stretch out, close your eyes, carefully rest all your muscles, but DO NOT fall asleep.  It may take some practice but you can get to the point when your friends and associates can’t tell whether you are napping or relax-a-napping, especially if your face is hidden behind a large and boring book! When you get that good at relax-a-napping, listen carefully! You may hear some very interesting comments made around you -- and maybe even some comments about you!

Well, dear readers, I must go now.  You see, it’s time for my nap!

MarySue Helstern Rosenberger

16 April 2019

Saying Goodbye

 Goodbye, Adios, Auf Wiedersehn, Au Revoir, Chao ong ba, So long, 

On this journey toward the river between this life and the next, 

I must say “goodbye” too often.  

Sometimes out loud; sometimes silently; 

sometimes bitterly, never joyfully.  

Sometimes there are tears; sometimes happy memories, 

but never eagerness.

Such a harsh word! 

Now I understand a resident who refused to use it.  

As a gentler alternative, 

she chose the Spanish phrase “Vaya con Dios” (Go with God).  

I like that.  

It’s more like opening a window than closing a door!

 Family and friends will understand,

  But what about non-human things I must part with? 

- dreams and goals that will never be realized

- the things I enjoyed doing

- my independence and self-sufficiency

- setting my own schedule and use of time

- the stuff I treasured  

- the broader world beyond the walls of my home

 I miss them all. 

How can I properly take leave

of those important - but intangible - realities?

But I do not travel alone.

  Memories linger 

and love never leaves me. 

Emmanuel is my Companion and Guide, 

and when I reach that river, 

“God with us” will be my Bridge into eternity.  

Go with God, indeed!

9 April 2019 mshr

POTHOLES on our PATHWAY

My father had more illnesses and hospitalizations during his lifetime than I can count.  But he had a favorite saying about them.  “A sense of humor,” he would remind his family, “is the shock absorber over the potholes in the road of life!”  We are digging up our senses of humor and traveling slowly back to normal after the recent cluster of potholes in our life’s journey.  

Pothole #1: I reacted badly to an immunotherapy drug I received in February.  I  seemed to be improving a little when Bruce began finding some curious blind curves in his pathway.  

Pothole #2:  He noticed a few muscle aches here and there and discovered in the evening that his body temperature was 101.  Sometimes he would have a spell of shaking  chills when the temp went up but no other symptoms.  This went on every evening for a week, two weeks, three weeks when he decided to go to the doctor for the second time.

Pothole #3: This time he was sent to the local Emergency Department for some tests, and they kept him.  The hospital was so full of flu cases that there were no empty beds so he stayed in the ER for two days!  He was examined, poked, prodded, X-rayed, scanned, EKGed, echocardiogram-ed, blood cultured, and his every body part was tested, including his patience!  None of these diagnostic tools showed any cause for the infection that was raising his temperature.

Porhole #4:  Finally the Infectious Disease doctor decided to do a TEE, that’s a transesophageal echocardiogram (sounds impressive, doesn’t it?  It’s also a bit invasive!)  Through a tube passed down his esophagus, a camera did an echocardiogram.  It’s like the one that was done earlier but it gives the doctor a closer and more detailed view of the heart.  And there it was: infectious growth on the aortic valve that was replaced in 2015!  A cardiac cath was done the next day and showed that his heart was strong and healthy except for that patch of infection.  

Porhole #5:  So on Friday, March 22, he had open heart surgery to remove the infected valve and replace it with a new and healthy one.  His recuperation at the hospital went very well and he came home March 27.  He is on IV antibiotics twice a day and will be for 6 more weeks, but he is feeling well.

Pothole #6: Meanwhile, on the home front, MarySue needed help.  Her doctors advised her not to go to the hospital to visit Bruce because of infections she might be exposed to.  She was a little stronger than she was in February but still needed help managing her oxygen, fixing meals, doing laundry and other household tasks.  A near-by home care agency came to her rescue, providing help and companionship 24/7 while Bruce was in the hospital.  Except for the night time hours, we have continued their services since Bruce came home because MarySue is needing more help.

So the potholes in our pathway of life are flattening out somewhat but my sense of humor has not completely returned yet.  I hope it’s not lost out there in outer space where my lost energy is hiding!

MarySue Helstern Rosenberger

A Gift of Grace

You “churchy types” have no doubt heard the common religious definition of GRACE.  It is said to be “God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense,” that is, undeserved divine forgiveness because of Jesus’ suffering for us. That’s a good definition for our spiritual well-being but this past month I’ve learned that grace can extend beyond the realm of the spirit.

I’ve discovered a new definition for that commonly used word.  GRACE has expanded to also mean unexpectedly “Getting Relief After Confusing Events.”  Let me explain.

It was about a month ago - early February - that I last saw the lung doctor.  I knew I was in bad shape and he confirmed that.  Breathing was difficult leaving me with no energy.  I had become a permanent occupant of wheelchair, recliner or bed, unable to walk even short distances around our house.  I was coughing a lot but with no signs of any infection.  He ordered a course of steroids and antibiotics and again reminded me that pulmonary fibrosis is a progressive and terminal disease.  His nurse practitioner had already discussed palliative and hospice care with me.  So I went home in bad shape emotionally as well as physically!

Then Bruce and I remembered something important.  One week before this sudden increase of symptoms I had been well enough to receive my second immunotherapy infusion.  I had developed similar - but milder -  symptoms  after my first infusion in December!  We wondered if there was a connection.

That’s when the gift of Grace kicked in physically.  Surprisingly, the more time that passed after that second immunotherapy infusion, the better I felt!  I was “Getting Relief After Confusing Events.”  Little by little I got more strength, my oxygen needs decreased slowly, and the coughing became less frequent.  Within ten days I was strong enough to walk from the living room to the bedroom, and the wheelchair was again retired to the garage!

Grace is, indeed, one of God’s most precious spiritual gifts, freeing us from burdens of sin and the guilt we so often heap upon ourselves.  I am now rejoicing in the recent revelation to me that the gift of grace can also free body and mind from burdens of illness!

MarySue Helstern Rosenberger

Chasing the Wind

How much of my life I have spent chasing the wind,

and I haven’t caught it yet!

As a little girl, I loved feeling its gusts

rumple through my tidy pigtails.

 A teen on a bike, I delighted when its hidden strength 

pushed me down the road.

In adult years, I sometimes chased the wind

down paths designed for others,

Or let it pull me toward goals 

too high for me to reach.

I also pursued that breeze toward unknown adventures

down roads that others avoided,

So they missed the precious and profound experiences

those pathways held.

In recent years, I still chase the wind,  

but slower and in a different way.

I now chase the wind that comes from

oxygen tanks, a concentrator, and a nasal cannula.

I must constantly monitor myself

to make sure I have enough wind to keep going.

But I also chase a different wind:

A Holy Wind, a strong, divine Wind

Ru’ah, Pneuma,

The Holy Spirit.

This time I know I will catch the wind

because that loving Wind

Is also chasing me!

18Feb 2019 - mshr

It’s Unanimous

Unlike current politicians, my health caregivers all agree.  My lung doctor, his nurse practitioner, my primary care physician, and our patient care advocate all say that I have lost the precious gift of longevity. None of them think I will make it to 100 years of age!

My scarring lungs have jumped to the next higher level of limitations and my health care professionals have all helped me get the additional equipment I am needing.  They have strongly suggested I enroll in palliative care at the local hospital home health.  This gives Bruce resources and a support system to call upon when needed.

You see, within the past couple of weeks after that thief broke into my body and stole most of my energy, both Bruce and I have had to make some major changes in our daily routines.  I now require twice as much oxygen 24/7 as I did before.  After two weeks of having to depend upon Bruce and a wheelchair, I am just now beginning to be able to walk around the house a little. I sleep ten to twelve hours per day and spend the rest of the time sitting quietly reading, doing handwork, or praying.

Our only social engagements these days are doctors’ appointments and Bruce spends much of his time monitoring my oxygen supply, picking up my prescriptions and running errands.  And oh what a God-send he is!  He is not only my “go fer...” but also my cook, bottlewasher, housekeeper, oxygen expert, personal care assistant, my emotional rock of stability, my companion, and through it all, my best friend.

It’s an enormous adjustment to make.  I often feel like the ball in a fast-paced ping-pong game: a fragile little object batted first one way toward sadness and loss, and then the other way, back toward gratitude and thanksgiving.  I have no idea how long the game will last - that part of the game God keeps secret! - or whether there will someday be one hefty smash that will shatter my little self!

That game, however, has no losers.  When my “ping-pong ball” life finally runs out of energy and breath, I will then be freed of all oxygen tubes and tanks, wheelchair and assistive devices, and limitations!  “Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, free at last.”  And that’s unanimous, too!


16 February 2019 - mshr