Mother Knows Best

I spent the day with my mother. As a young child, I would want comfort from her whenever I was sick or scared. I guess things haven't changed much even though I am almost half-a-century old.

The men went golfing today and mom was with me. I spent some of the time confessing my sins. Boy, does confession feel good to the soul even at my age. Okay, I didn't tell her everything I'd ever done wrong. There is probably a statute of limitations on some things and as I've said before, there wasn't a whole lot that was done when I was a child that they didn't know about anyway. When you're an only child like I am, any acts of disobedience that are discovered are just automatically assumed to have been committed by the only non-adult in the household. And if I dared to disobey elsewhere, like say, at my grandparents' house on a Sunday afternoon there were almost 35 cousins to witness the event and to tattle on me. Not much got past my parents.

However, I did confess to my mom just how deep some of the depression went when I was a young mom. I told her of the suicidal thoughts that never went beyond thoughts and into action but scared me nonetheless. I confessed having fought from time-to-time with her beloved-son-in-law (Pastor Dad) without going into irrelevant details that might embarrass all of us. I told her that I'd left him a few times but that I never spent a night away from him while we were angry. An hour or so was about all I could muster and that was usually spent walking or driving.

I told her about the arguments I had with my kids. I mentioned that they sometimes hate(d) me and I wondered if I would lose my hold on sanity in the dark moments.

I told her about the abyss I found myself in when the chicken pox disfigured me and led me into the dreaded autoimmune system disorder when I was 29 years old. She knew that, but she never had been told about the dark days of not being able to rise from the bed because I was prostrated by the resulting depression.

And do you know what? My mother didn't look the least bit shocked. Instead, she smiled and basically said that I'm not a superhero. And she doesn't even read this blog! I had to go back and read my own writing about being Super Mom before slapping my forehead while uttering an audible, "Duh!"


So thanks, Mom. It's amazing how much wiser you are now than when I was a kid! :)

The Marvels of Modern Medicine

Isn't modern medicine wonderful? I'm rarely sick enough to warrant a visit to my primary care physician but when I go I am amazed with the latest tools at his disposal and drugs in his arsenal.

Such was the case Friday. I desperately needed help serving eviction papers to the elephant sitting on my chest. My body temperatures were steadily holding in the tropical range no matter what I did and the elephant obviously was a fan of warmer climes.

My last fever-free day was Wednesday. The one from the night before had broken and the elephant must've been out running an errand because I was breathing well and feeling better except for a slight headache. I decided to go on to church. Since a headache can quickly escalate, I sat on the back row in case I needed to make a hasty exit. This caught the attention of a few church members. I guess I looked a little under-the-weather because one asked if I had Swine Flu.

• What I wanted to reply was, "Of course I think I have Swine Flu! That's why I came to church on the first night of our mid-week ministries just so that I'd have a packed building in which to share the germ."
• What I replied was, "No, I don't have the Swine Flu. Right now it is just a slight headache," as I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

My physician verified my claim by taking a swab. We discussed how quickly a diagnosis for things like strep and flu can be made these days. The swab would not tell if I had Swine Flu but if it came back positive it would assumed to be of that variety. He knew I didn't have it, and I knew I didn't have it, but given recent hysteria (and the fact that the person in the next examination room had just tested positive and was receiving an anti-agent) he decided to test me. Our conversation leading up to the swab went something like this:

Dr.: Do you have any flu symptoms?

Me: Every time I get a fever I experience some of the symptoms.

Dr.: Any muscle aches?

Me: I went canoeing last Saturday. Every muscle in my body ached before I got sick.

Dr.: Been around any college students from (named a couple of local schools) recently?

Me: Actually, we invited a visitor to Sunday dinner recently who attends one of them. He seemed fine at the time.

Dr.: Have you been in contact with crowds or sick people lately?

Me: Well, yes, and yes. I'm a pastor's wife who stands at the exit every Sunday shaking hands with all the adults and children (whom I'm sure don't always wash their hands properly after such unsavory activities as nose-picking, etc. - meaning the children). I think shaking hands with everyone could literally be considered "contact" with crowds.

Dr.: Nurse! Get a swab!

Ten minutes later I was certified flu-free with the diagnosis of an elephant named Bronchitis. I already knew this as the elephant was a frequent visitor when I was a child.

Further proof of how far medicine has progressed is that the 2-week rounds of antibiotics that I used to take have now been replaced with 3 mega doses. I like that so much better! It means less chance of forgetting to take a dose, or wondering if I've already taken a dose ("senior moments" makes this pretty important), or wondering if symptoms are caused by illness or side effects. But most of all, it means the elephant will be packing his trunk quicker than ever.

It also means fewer lost school days, but some people might not appreciate that. Good thing these advances in medical science came when I was an adult instead of when I was a child.

School reconvenes Tuesday. Holiday weekend, you know. :)

When Dust Becomes An Elephant

The Bear is taking biology this year and one of the things that we have reviewed is the way scientific laws are made and how they can be proven wrong. The prime example used is Aristotle's hypothesis that non-life could produce life, something which is known as spontaneous generation. Aristotle proposed his theory around 350 B.C. and the data obtained for centuries seemed to support it so well that it was firmly believed until Louis Pasteur conclusively refuted it in AD 1859.

What is spontaneous generation? It was the belief that rancid meat turned into maggots, pond water turned into frogs, and boxes of grain turned into mice. My question is why anyone would want to create organisms that God used as plagues to punish the Pharoah of Egypt prior to the Jewish Exodus? Shouldn't we be avoiding making maggots, frogs, and mice? But "make" them they did just to prove that they could.

Then Louis Pasteur came along with his experiments and he proved there were other things at work in each of those situations. Living things, that is. I happen to be a big fan of Pasteur and I thank God for him every time I reach for a glass of pasteurized milk. Three cheers for Louis!

But I think I have to disagree with him on one point. I think dust can turn into an elephant.

It all started Monday when I lost something behind a heavy piece of furniture. It was one of those pieces that doesn't get moved often merely because of its weight. But since I'm in my fall cleaning mode (I didn't get to do the spring cleaning) - and I really wanted the item I dropped - I decided to tackle that puppy. So with dustcloth in hand I bent over to clean the baseboard as soon as I had moved the furniture. Specks of dust flew up in my face like a flock of sleeping ducks that had been disturbed on a pond! I gasped in surprise, which caused the involuntary response of inhaling deeply.

Uh oh. I'm in for it now.

Sure enough, by Tuesday evening at least one of those specks of dust had grown into an elephant and he was sitting squarely on my chest. I could feel him with each breath I took.

So dear M Pasteur if you were correct - and you most assuredly were - when you proved that non-life cannot spontaneously generate into life, might I suggest a hypothesis of my own? If it passes scrutiny we could name it Karabeth's Law:

Cleaning is bad for your health.

He's A Bouncy Baby Boy

Our little Fen is one of those little guys who always wants to be held. Getting anything done - like putting lunch on the table - requires putting him on the table for a few minutes as well. He loves his bouncy seat. I think it is because he knows how to turn it on and off with his feet! That's what's going on here.


Uncle Bear is so funny! He's always willing to make a guy grin.

I think he was trying to reach out and grab the camera from my hand. "That's enough pictures, Gram!"

It's difficult to get a "still shot" of our Fen. He's always on the move.