Her Last Birthday Wish

My mother passed away August 27, the day before my birthday. Needless to say, my birthday was quite bittersweet. But there was a very tender memory to go along with the day - my mother's last birthday wish to me.

I don't know how she did it, as sick as she was. Monday, August 22, my phone rang around 9:00 PM. I picked it up and saw that my mother was calling.

Now, that was odd! She was VERY sick and weak. Her cell phone was an old flip phone, and she would have needed someone to get it for her and maybe even dial it, too (which meant that Mom had to remember my number, no mean feat since she had moments of confusion.) I picked up the phone with some trepidation.

Mom said in a garbled voice, "Happy Birthday."

"Thank you, Mom," I replied a little cautiously, not quite sure how to respond.

"August 28, Happy Birthday," she said.

Was she confused as to what day it was?

"Thank you, Mom," I repeated. "You haven't missed it, though. It's a few days away."

"I wanted to be sure I said it to you. Happy Birthday." And she hung up.

I sat and tears came to my eyes. Was she afraid she would die before my birthday and wanted to make sure she said it?

Whatever the reason behind her call and how she accomplished it, that call will always be a very tender memory to me. It was the last time I ever heard my mother wish me a happy birthday. And, she did it in time for this year's birthday.

She was thinking of me, even though she herself was close to death.

Thanks you, Mom. I reflected on that phone call many times during my birthday. You felt very close by, and I felt very loved.

P.S. Goodbye, Mom

What do you say when you lose your mom? Your remaining parent?

When my mother's father died, she told me how hard it was to know that she was now an orphan. I was a bit taken aback by that description; now I understand how descriptive it is of the loss that you feel.

 All glammed up in 2009.

And even when you know it is coming, when it is a relief to her as well as to the family, your mother's passing hits you hard.

Mom participating in a gigantic family water fight. 

Her passing was very peaceful. Palliative care had helped us make some difficult decisions, and we took her off all her machines yesterday except for morphine and an anxiety drug (she had been hallucinating.) Jenny, Curt, and I were with her - she simply stopped breathing. No gasping, no struggling, no pain. Just a very gentle slipping away.

Right before she died, Curt gave her a blessing. As he was finishing it, the sun burst through the clouds outside and her hospital room brightened very noticably - you could see the bright light even through your closed eyelids.  Coincidence? I think not.

Just as I had been a few days ago, I felt prompted to sing "Toodle-umba" to her. The first time I felt that mental suggestion, I was in tears and could not get a note out. But as her breathing slowed, my voice returned, and I was able to sing the song her mother sang to her as a child and then to me and to my siblings. I hope, as she slipped away, she knew I was there and that she was feeling close to her mom.

I treasure the time I've had with her this summer; those daily visits allowed us to draw very close during her final days. At the end of every visit, she would ask me to pray with her and reach out to hold my hand. We'd pray for family, we'd pray for animals, we'd pray for those who were suffering, afraid, or in bad situations. She'd never offer the prayer, in fact she refused when I would ask her to, but if she thought I'd left something out that needed praying for, she would pipe up after the amen, "P.S. Please..." and have her say!

Then we'd squeeze each other's hands and smile at each other.

Mom and me, holding hands in prayer our final time yesterday.

Those daily visits and prayer were so important to the both of us, that the three days I was hospitalized and unable to see her, I phoned her and we prayed over the phone.

It is also what I will miss most now that she is gone.

Good-bye, Mom. You were the best.

And P.S. I love you.

Brain Tumors

In 2000, my insurance changed and I had to get a new doctor. I shared with him that I had migraines several times a week, and he had me get an MRI to scan for brain tumors, even though he really didn't think I had one.

Lo and behold, I had two! Deep down in the center of my brain. Fortunately, they turned out to be benign lipomas, which are common on your body but extremely rare in the brain. They are not involved in anything, instead just sitting between the two major lobes of my brain. And as such, they get to stay there.

When I went to see my neurosurgeon, Dr. Garrett Jackson in May and he was taking my medical history, I told him about the lipomas and said that they were resolved. (My family doctor's term for them.)

"I'd like to be the judge of that," Dr. Jackson said. In retrospect, I am so glad he did.

Turns out I have a third brain tumor. Dr. Jackson took a look at my most recent MRI  (2008) and saw a grape-sized tumor at the lower right base of my skull. Somehow, those who read that scan had missed it. He had me get an MRI as soon as I was healed enough from my back surgery to be able to tolerate lying on my back in the machine.

The bad news is that I have yet another brain tumor. The good news is that it is a slow growing meningioma and has only grown a tiny amount in the last eight years. 85% of meningiomas are non cancerous, too.

So... it gets to stay inside my head, just like the other two. I know the signs to watch for that would indicate it is growing, and I don't need another MRI for five years unless I have those indicators.

Call me very, very grateful for that good news.

A Familiar Place

St. Elizabeth has become a very familiar hospital. My mom, mother-in-law, and myself all spent time there this summer. And now I am back again with my mother.

I was visiting her Wednesday after school when suddenly she began coughing up large amounts of mucus, large strands of it, very thick and viscous. I called the nurse, and Mom's O2 levels were at 79. She checked them again ten minutes later after turning up her O2, and she'd only risen to 85.

A call to the doctor, the arrival of the ambulance, and a fast and furious drive across town to the hospital brought us to here, Sunday morning. She has pneumonia and Mersa. They are also testing for the MAC virus.

A big problem has been a similar occurrence to what happened Wednesday night - her CO2 levels rose Saturday morning to 126 and she crashed again. Leslie arrived and realized she was not sleeping but comatose, and the nurses hurriedly got a bpap on her and after several hours she began to awaken.

I sat there and held her hand, and realized that her breathing was changing when Steve, Les, or I spoke to her. That was our first indication that consciousness was returning. I figured it couldn't hurt to sing to her some of the old songs I remember my grandmother singing to me and figured had been sung to her, too.

Toodle-umba, umba! 
Toodle-umba umba!
Toodle-aye A!

Any um-ber-ellas,
Any um-ber-ellas,
To mend today?

Bring your parasols,
They may be small,
They may be big,

I will fix them all
in what they call
a jiffity-jig!

She reacted to those, too, and soon she was opening her eyes and beginning to communicate. At one point, she began telling everyone, "I am ready to die." Let me die." I want to die." I finally realized that she thought the bpap machine was a ventilator and that we were going against her wishes and taking heroic measures. I explained what it was several times, but she continued to be agitated, so I had a nurse come in and help explain it to her. After that, she was much calmer.

Saturday afternoon she was more like herself to the extent that she was even joking with the nurses.

This morning she consented to a bronchoscopy, a procedure she has had done several times before. Frankly, I was surprised she wanted it done, but signed the form since I have medical POA. She is waking up now as I type, and is doing well, all things considered.

They also, with my consent, put a temporary feeding tube in her nose (they said it was easier to do while she was under anesthetic than later when she was awake.) I gladly agreed to that - she hasn't eaten since Wednesday lunch!

There is something very holy about sitting with someone who is so close to the veil. She knows where she is going and not afraid.

Neither am I, but I am sad.

Singing Heart

This makes my heart sing.

Isaac is in Colorado and stopped by to visit Sarah and her family!

There is definitely a family resemblance. Sarah has really been blessed.

First Day of School

Ah, that "life skill of being flexible" that we teach to our students. Today was the first day of school, and did I ever need to be flexible!

- There was no air conditioning in my wing of the building. I came home hot and sweaty.

- My specials schedule was changed three times a half hour before school began! I still don't know what I am supposed to do tomorrow: library, art, or PE?

- The camera for morning announcements is broken and could not be fixed so we had audio-only ones.

- No one remembered to turn on the hallway water fountains after the water supply to the school was shut down for a month this summer. So, we had a hot classroom and no water to drink.

- The classroom water faucet and drinking fountain were so full of air from the summer water shut-down that they spat when turned on, shooting water across the sink and onto the floor. They were impossible to drink from.

- Not that the kids wanted to. The water that came out was rusty and then yellow!

- There was no soap in the soap dispensers in the kids' restrooms.

- The napkin dispenser in the teachers' lunch room was empty.

- Wasps had made a nest in the playground equipment climbing apparatus on the intermediate playground.

- The primary playground was closed because the construction folks are three weeks behind schedule.

- The "dry" retention pond that was built by the summer's construction crew across from the kindergarten wing (but has no fence around it because it is a "dry" pond and no water is expected) had four feet of water in it this morning.

- Toilets in the kids' and teachers' bathrooms went on flushing and flushing and flushing for some reason.

Luckily, the kids were awesome and rolled with the issues just as I had to. I am excited about my new class - they seem like super nice kids. Good thing they are flexible, too!

Tornado!!

Ever watched those news videos of a tornado coming down, and you see a few cars driving along nearby and wonder, "Why on earth are they not getting out of the way?? What are they thinking??" Well, I was one of those folks yesterday afternoon and I know what they're thinking:

"No.... it couldn't be a tornado. Not right next to me. Couldn't be."

"Don't be an idiot. You are NOT seeing a tornado. There are no warnings out and the sirens aren't blowing."

"This isn't tornado weather - it could not be a tornado. It's just an odd cloud.

"Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?"

"Where's my phone?! I think I am watching a tornado!"

"Oh, my gosh! Is it coming toward me or away from me??"

"It is roping out. That IS a tornado."

"Look at it move! I think it's moving away from me. Yeah, it's going away from my car."

"I can't believe what I just saw!"

I was driving on 600 around 6:00 PM after work, heading out to see Abby. I had just passed Battleground Middle School when I saw an odd looking cloud over the field to my right. I like to weather-watch, and I have seen several tornados (albeit never this close!)  and I was struck by how much it looked like one but dismissed that thought as it was not your traditional tornado weather. There were no warnings, no hail, no ominous green cast to the sky.... nothing that indicated possible tornado formation.

As I drove along, I kept an eye on it, and the funnel came down and touched the ground in the field next to the road. Yep, a full fledged tornado, on the ground in the cornfield. Right next to me.

Still in disbelief, I watched it as I drove, getting a little nervous that, if it really was what I thought it was, I was only a couple hundred feet away and did not know which direction it was going.

As I gaped at it, it very suddenly roped out, snaked a bit through the corn, and then dissolved into nothing. I held onto the steering wheel, grateful that I was okay and that the tornado had not hit me, any homes, barns, or the road.

About an hour later, the local news station posted a video of the tornado that someone at the middle school had taken of it. The link is here; as I watch it, I still find it a bit hard to believe that it formed in the field next to me. And actually, I am really grateful to have had the opportunity to witness one form, touch down, and dissipate.

And,  to do so safely.

Alice Squared

A couple of years ago I had a student in my class with serious issues, significant enough that she had to enter a residential facility not once, but twice during her two years in my class.

I last saw her in May when her parents invited me to a celebration of her better health, and then she dropped in to see me last night during the Hershey Open House, even though she has been out of elementary school for some time.

She brought me a gift.

An Alice doll from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. She brought it because children's classic literature is one of the foundations of my classroom, but it means more to me than that. 

You see, this girl presented her first classic on that book. And she made a wonderfully unconventional and creative three dimensional poster as her project, chock full of color and touchable items. It was so representative of who my student was at the time as well as Alice from the book. I have associated my student with the character of Alice ever since.

I kept that poster up even when she left for residential care. And then the next year, when she returned to my class as a fifth grader but then had to leave again for residential care. It stayed up and reminded all of us that this girl, despite her absence, her issues, was still one of our class family.

I gave her back her poster at the end of fifth grade and was sorry to see it go.  But now I have another touchable reminder of a girl who I came to love very, very much.

My New Student Teacher

This is definitely the youngest student teacher I have ever had!

 But Mr. Ian dutifully reported for school this morning at noon.

 And, he brought pizza! And his mom and sister! And Aunt Lisa!

 Oh, and don't forget...  Millie!

 Mr. Ian decided he would help me by sorting through my Math teaching tools.

 He helped put away my "tri-gangles." (Although actually, he was the one who got them out!)

 And he made sure I knew what they are properly called. This is NOT a protractor.

 It's the letter "D"!!

 He wrote some notes on the white board for his incoming class.

Introducing yourself to your new class is a good idea and smooths the way that first day of school.

And then he and I took a tour of the building. Mr. Ian thought it a good idea to make sure that every classroom had its own flag, so we checked every room as we went by.

When we got to the Panther Room, his eyes got wide as he looked at the big, black panther painted on the wall. "That's scary," he said.

 But not to worry, Mrs. Angie, our day custodian, was working in that room.

She came over and helped Mr. Ian find some smaller creatures in the mural. (I had never noticed that mouse that they are looking at here!)

 My new student teacher is a hard worker, and he pitched right in to help Mrs. Angie.

She was in the process of setting up tables in the gym for tomorrow's open house, and Mr. Ian gladly helped her move the chairs away from the tables.

He worked until the job was done, and then we returned to our flag assessment. I was happy to report to Mrs. Fields that Hershey is compliant with any rule that says every classroom must have a flag. We found one in every room we passed. (Mr. Ian is such a thorough worker that I made the decision that, if the intermediate wing was in compliance, then we did not need to do the primary and kindergarten wings of the school.)

I see a bright future for you in the classroom, Mr. Ian!

Back to the Temple!

Last night was my first night serving in the temple since the end of June. It was absolutely wonderful to be back.

 It was a lively night - we had two elderly women with walkers in attendance (along with 100 year old Tuesday night regular Thelma Stephenson. Her grandfather served in the Mormon Battalion!) I was assigned to help them during part of the endowment session.

There are about forty ordinance workers that we see every week, and we have become quite close as we serve together. I was welcomed back very warmly with lots of hugs.

I was exhausted at the end of the night even though Sr. Jacobson, our shift coordinator, had given me a lighter assignment in light of my recent surgery.

I got out of the building before Craig did, so I sat by the fountain and took some photos of the temple. It is so beautiful at night. I love the tiny crescent moon in this photo.

Fun with Mila and Ian

Craig and I spent part of the morning with Ian and Mila while their mama was on a photography shoot. As you might imagine, it was a lot of fun.

 Mila woke up early from her morning nap and so I got some snaps of her.

They were turning out so well that I decided it would be fun to include Ian in a few. So, I called him over, saying, "Ian! Come over and step into the picture!"

Well, he sure took me literally! 

Ian is very much a chatterbox, and he mimics what he hears. Vanessa told me he now greets everyone by saying, "Hi, guy!" which is how I say hellos to the male members of my family as well as my male students. Little copycat!

His mimicry surfaced this morning. Since we see a lot of Curt's family, sometimes one of my toys goes home with them, while occasionally one of theirs gets left at our home. On the floor in the living room was a set of interlocking rings that were from my kids' baby days. 

"Oh, those are mine!" I said.

"No, they're Neena's," Ian corrected.

"No, they're mine," I repeated.

A pause. And then...

"Can't you share?" 

Oh, Ian! You melt my heart.

Today's MRI Experience

 I had my brain scan today to check that new brain tumor that Dr. Jackson found.

Okay, I have had many MRIs. I do all right although I do get claustrophobic. Craig always comes with me and keeps his hand on my ankle so I have human contact. I don't like the tight tube, but the loud noise doesn't bother me at all. And, as long as I can peek out and see the room, I'm good.

So, when the nurse told me they had a new, bigger MRI machine today, I didn't think anything of it. While not an open MRI machine, it was bigger than others I have been in. I was able to lie down and move my arms around, something past MRI machines have been too narrow for. That felt good.

I lay there thinking it wouldn't be too bad, although the skull-holder my head lay in was new. And then the nurse approached, put a barred mask over my face, and BOLTED ME TO THE TABLE WITH IT.

panicpanicpanicpanicpanic!! 

I asked her if we could do the scan without the bolts being attached. Nope. Had to be bolted. I had never had a mask, and I had never been bolted to the table before.

I could see out through the bars on it, but the idea that I was now bolted down and helpless should there be an emergency, and I was terrified. Something about being held down by the head, with your body thrashing and flopping around in a frantic effort to get free...

At this point I was wishing I had taken that Valium my doctor gave me, just in case I needed it.

And then Craig lifted his hand off my ankle and I thought I would lose it again! I called out to him (I am sure he heard the panic in my voice) and he grabbed onto me again and did not let go.

Even worse, when the machine started sliding me into the tube.... the bars on the mask blocked my view! I could no longer see the real world; all I could see was the roof of the tube. Seeing the real world down by my toes has always stemmed my feelings of claustrophobia. Now, just plain white tube was all I could see.

Since I could move my arms more freely in this machine, I actually grabbed onto the outside edges of the tube as I went in. (Perhaps subconsciously I was trying to keep from going all the way in.) Craig alternated between holding my ankle and holding my hand; without him, I would not have made it through.

An hour later we were done. The tube did slide out briefly so they could inject the contrast dye, but the nurse would not release the bolts on the mask so I could sit up, catch my breath, etc. I get it - they don't want my head to move at all, but never, ever have I been bolted down like that and frankly, it upset me a LOT.

I have felt pretty shaky the rest of the day. I have also had a massive headache, maybe from the contrast dye, maybe from the stress and anxiety.

Next time I will take that Valium.

Two Important Lessons I Have Learned for Teaching

A girl who just began her first year of teaching last week stood up to bear her testimony in Church today. It sounded as though she is really struggling, and she said that she was not prepared for what teaching really is.

After talking to Craig, I decided to send her an email of encouragement. I have never met her, but Lisa knows her and I've heard of her. So, when I got home, I sat down at the computer and shared two of the most important things I know about teaching: that Heavenly Father will help you as you teach His children and seek for ways to help them, and that the hours spent in school may be the best hours of the day for some children because they have horrendous home lives.

Here is the letter I sent her:

You know my daughter, Lisa, who teaches at Burnett Creek. I am a teacher as well and teach at Hershey, another TSC school. After your bore your testimony in church today, I thought back to my own first year of teaching. Unlike you, I was 39 when I began, so you might think that being older would give me an edge, right? Well... I wanted to share two things I have learned that really have stood the test of time and helped me with child after child after child.

First:

As my very first class EVER arrived, I asked them to come sit on the carpet with me. I was scared and felt the weight of responsibility for the education of those kids. Would I know what to say? How to address certain learning needs? Social needs? What if a parent yelled at me? And on and on.

The bell rang, and wouldn't you know it, the child who was labeled with a behavior disorder went under a table by me instead of on the carpet as asked. I asked him to come out, but he just looked up at me with a big grin and stayed where he was.

I had no idea what to do, so I took a deep breath, put my hand on the table, and leaned over to give him a firmer command to come out from under there. And as I put my hand on the edge, that's where inspiration kicked in. The table edge was sharp. I know it was inspiration from the Lord, because instead of telling him to knock it off and come out of there, I instead asked, "Do you know CPR?"

The surprise on his face was priceless. That question was not what he'd expected.  (Or what I'd intended to say.) And the inspiration from the Lord continued.

"Do you faint at the sight of blood? I sure hope not, because the edge of this table is SHARP. If you cut your head on it, I am going to faint at the sight of all your blood and fall on the floor. The other kids may pass out, too. Will you know what to do when that happens?"

And I smiled at him. He smiled back, and to my great relief, came out from under the table as I had asked. Only he did it in a happy frame of mind. I sat there fervently thanking the Lord for that inspiration, because those words sure were not mine! 

That student still had some struggles during the school year, but they were minor and grew less and less as the year went on. I truly think that he realized I did care for him, and we had a bond built on humor and caring. 

I have used what I learned that day repeatedly in my classrooms all these years later. Love and humor, relying on inspiration which WILL come if you need it...  They are all His children and He loves them more than we as their teachers do. Trust in Him to help you when you just haven't got a clue as to what to say or do.

Second:

A teacher friend had a child who kept falling asleep during the school day. He just could not keep his eyes open. She was wise enough to ask him why he was tired instead of reprimanding him for sleeping at school. It turned out that his parents were drug dealers and there was a lot of noise and activity during the evenings and night in their home as a result. He could not sleep due to all the commotion as well as to the smoke from the marijuana that was being smoked, etc. While quietly addressing that information through other channels, she continued to let him sleep if he needed it.

When she told me about the boy, she shook her head sadly and said, "Lynn, sometimes the school day is the best few hours of the kids' day. We never know what they go home to. I always try to make sure they know they are loved and safe while here at school."

That has stuck with me. I don't know everything going on at a student's home, either. But I do know they are Heavenly Father's children, and I can treat them as such. Despite the frustrations, the disruptions, the absent parents, and so on. I have realized that I am just as much a mother-figure to many of them as I am a teacher, and that my example of love and caring can and will pay off dividends down the road.

Teaching is a tough job, no doubt about it. But it's also one of the most meaningful things you can do. And if a child NEEDS a mother figure more than to learn the day's lessons, sometimes I give it to them. As my friend said, that could've just been the best few hours of that child's day.

Hang in there. The first year absolutely, hands down, is the toughest. But it does get better. And you have the added advantage of knowing whose children they really are, and if you look, you will see that light of Christ in every one of them. Treat them as His children, and it WILL pay dividends. Some may be tiny, some you may never, ever know about, but it WILL.

If there is anything I can do to help you, feel free to contact me, at this address or at lmisenbarger@tsc.k12.in.us

Hang in there. The kids need you. :)

Hugs,

Lynn

Notes and Cards from Former Students

I arrived at school Wednesday to discover this note on my door.

I love how Maya did the alternating orange and blue!

 This week in the mail I got thank you notes from Taylor DeWoody and Cole Boyer, two kids in my favorite class of all time. I had them for third, fourth, and fifth grades.

Cole is headed to Indiana University.

Taylor is headed to Rice. (Her dad is the one who nominated for for the PAEMST award.)

David Wu and Caroline Loftus also sent me thank you notes.

Caroline will be heading to Grinnell College in Iowa.

David has had a rough time for several years with health and other issues. He will be attending American Honors College.

Finally, Caroline Blanchard sent me this card. I was able to attend her graduation party in early May.

She's headed to Purdue.

Because my back was hurting so much, Carobou's party was the only one I was able to attend. I was heartsick as these are my favorite students of all time.

Madeline Roberts, Caroline L., and Caroline B. (who I dubbed "Carobou" when she was in my class. She still goes by that name!)

 The girl on the left wasn't one of mine, but we asked her to join us, too. (Don't know her name.)

 And the girls' parents! Back: Kim and Barry Loftus, Kelly and Scott Blanchard. Front: Kristi and Jeff Roberts, Betsy and Frank Cederquist, me.

A Healing Back

Disclaimer #1: The indentation you see is not my backside crack! It is just the way my back is formed. The incision is mid-back and well away from anything too personal.

Disclaimer #2: There is no blood in the pictures, but it is a surgical scar. If you are the squeamish type, you may want to skip this post.

Why am I posting photos of my healing incision? For several reasons, one of which being that this blog functions as my journal. And, I cannot see my back, so Craig obliged me by taking the photos so I could. (I think Lisa took one, too.) Finally, I consider having had this surgery a big blessing; I feel so much better. And thus I want to document what the Lord has done for me.

July 11 - Home with the bandage off. (Yay for being able to shower again!) The bruising is not as bad as I expected.

 July 16 - Happy Birthday, Kyle! And boy, do those staples itch!

 July 19 - my father's 93rd birthday. Looking good!

 July 20 - ready to get those pesky staples out tomorrow.

 July 21 - They're out and the itching has gone away.

 July 22 - Far less red looking.

July 26 - Beginning to fade.

July 30 - So much better!

Getting Ready for School!

The classroom is beginning to shape up and look more ready for school!

 My friend, Lisa Connolly, came in on Monday and helped do some of the heavy stuff since I am still under lifting/bending/twisting restrictions for my back..

 Even so, I overdid it on Monday, and so I stayed home Tuesday to recuperate.

An electrician came in and explained that, while working in my classroom, he had knocked my Illini clock off the wall and broken it. So, he'd gone online and bought me a new one to replace it! I thought that was so nice of him. The funny thing is, the other one was very difficult to read due to the placement of the "I" and the color of the clock's hands. My new one, while still an Illini clock, is much easier to read, so the electrician actually did me a favor!