Angels? Ghosts? Spirits? Guardian angels? Evil spirits? Are they real? Do they float around in the world, interfering in lives? Do they try to communicate? Is there an afterlife? So many questions, so few answers. Of all the things in the world that would finally send some peace to my soul - it was a stupid sit com. I don't even remember which one. The gist of the lines that hit me squarely in the face was that "if you have had a near death or a walk to the light experience, and it was good, then why are you afraid of death?"
Am I afraid if death anymore? Not really. Am I afraid of growing old? Well, heck yes! But my reasoning for not fearing death anymore starts back on May 22, 1998. It happened when we had a horrible car accident in Iowa, on our way to our son's college graduation from Northland College in Ashland, Wisconsin. We had the seats laid down in the back of the van so we could rotate sleeping and drive all night. None of us had much leave time to take, so we wanted to make the best use of our time. We hit a bridge embankment at 65 mph. Hubby and I were taking our turn sleeping. When we hit, he slid forward and hit his head against the back of the driver's seat. That was what put him in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. I was flipped in the air, through the center of the front seats, and landed upside down on the floor of the passenger seat. I was literally on top of my daughter. She slid out from under me, eased me back in the seat. Then she crawled into the middle seats, and tried to get the window open so she could get out. Everything in the car was electric, and with the crash, the battery was gone, and nothing electric worked. The windows wouldn't roll down, and the doors wouldn't open. Our daughter had to pry open the side window which opened sideways and then crawl out. There was a huge hole in the ground where the post for the bridge had been, When we hit it, the bridge post was torn out and tossed into the ditch. She fell into that hole when she climbed out the window. She was barefoot and had no coat on.
Shortening this - eventually there were 3 ambulances, 3 firetrucks, 2 or 3 highway patrol cars, several deputies cars, and some Mason City police cars. I think there must have been around 20 vehicles at the scene. It was pitch black because it was 4 in the morning. It was freezing cold - probably around 38 degrees. The firetrucks had their generators on, there were flashing lights for a mile, huge flood lights were mounted everywhere and the noise was unbearable. I was the only one left in the van because they could not get me out without the jaws of life. I say all of this to make the death experience make more sense. The rescue workers laid a heavy cover over me, and smashed out the windshield. The noise was so scary, and then I felt the glass pieces fall onto the cover. The rescue men began to use the jaws of life to cut me out. Noise of the jaws of life, people shouting, the generators running full blast, huge blazing lights all over the area, dozens of men surrounding the car and flashing strobe lights and headlights from all the vehicles and it was so very, very cold, even with blankets all over me.
My son in law slid into the driver's seat to comfort me while the hubby was already traveling in one ambulance to the hospital. Our daughter, 2 year old granddaughter and our unborn granddaughter were being cared for in another ambulance. Just in a blink of an eye, all of that noise, that freezing cold air, the glaring flood lights and strobes all faded away. I didn't walk to the light, I was just there. I was in a room that didn't seem to have any walls. The light was soft whitish yellow, it was absolutely quiet, and the air was warm. It felt like I was wrapped in a warm hug from someone who loved me. I have never felt so much peace before or after as I did then. Forgive the pun, but it was heaven.
I could hear my son in law trying to get my attention. He was frantic - he kept yelling my name, over and over. I heard him, but I ignored him because I didn't want to leave this warm, peaceful place. I kept on ignoring him until he finally yelled and called me mom, instead of my name, and I was back at the accident. By now, the pain was hideous, an EMT was behind me, holding me against the seat with a neck brace and giving me oxygen, and there were rows of rescue workers, EMT's and firemen lining the area where they were using the jaws. Every so often, they would pause a minute to ask me if I was alright and to explain what they were doing next. I looked up at them and asked them to please just let me die, please. I begged and begged and begged. Every breath I took was like breathing in shards of glass. I remember a fireman in a yellow slicker who had obviously been burned severely in a fire - with scars all over his face - and he had tears streaming down his face. The really really young EMT was crying also and he told me in no uncertain terms that he absolutely would not let me die. Then I was in the soft hug again. This repeated several times until they finally were able to put a backboard behind me and slide me up over the seat and out of the van. Then I was in an ambulance and on the way to the hospital.
Many people say that our brain does very strange things in a time of crisis, and that it is just a hallucination or a reaction of the brain to the pain and shock of the accident. Maybe. But what happened to me was as real as me sitting here typing on my computer. I haven't shared this with many people before now, because I don't like the reactions I get. Some disbelief, some just roll their eyes, some look at me with pity (like I am a nut case), and others just walk away.
That night, when I watched that silly sitcom - it hit me. If dying means going to that beautiful, quiet, warm and peaceful place, then why should I ever be afraid to die?
I am not a doctor, nor do I have even close to enough medical knowledge to know whether it was a hallucination, or some other medical term so that scientists can explain it to their satisfaction. I learned a long, long time ago that everything in this old world cannot be explained in black and white. So for me, I believe I did experience a quick step into whatever life is beyond this one, and I found it to be a world of peace and happiness. It has been 13 1/2 years but it still feels like yesterday.
Peace to all of you who read this.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Smoking mad - handicapped parking
You might want to back away from your computer a bit in case it starts to send up smoke. Cause I've got smoke coming out of my ears, and I'm sending it your way.
I UNDERSTAND people who are truly handicapped using handicapped parking. What I do not understand is those people who are not handicapped but still park there.
Now before I start a national war about conditions that aren't readily visible to the eye - let me reiterate - I'm not talking about truly handicapped people. My husband is a paraplegic in a wheelchair. Neither of us care whether we park close or far away - as long as we have the extra space for the lift in the van. Those are ONLY available if we use a marked handicapped space. I can't tell you how many idiots manage to park beside us in that little tiny slot allowed for the lift that is clearly marked no parking. That means I have to move the van out so hubby can get in the van. He drives from his wheelchair, so there is NO chair in the van. I have to stand up and use his hand controls to back it out so the lift has room to go down. It is terrifying!
But I digress! We recently came from our State Fair. We always go early so we can get a handicapped parking space with the extra side space for our lift. We sat for awhile and watched at least 20 perfectly healthy people, park, lock their vehicle and then hoof it at top speed to the entrance of the fair. No canes, no shortness of breath, no wheelchairs, no limping, no prothesis or bad legs. Unbelievable!
And now to start the next national war - just because you are old does NOT mean you are handicapped! Good grief! I've parked in our mall parking lot early, and watched car after car park in the handicap slots, the seniors get out, and then proceed to do an hour of mall walking for exercise. Cause I went in to exercise too and saw them. If you can walk the mall to exercise for an hour, you can park somewhere else other than a handicapped parking spot!
Who is to blame? I don't know! Maybe the doctors who give a handicapped plaque to everyone who has a tiny bit of a hobble, or is old, or is temporarily handicapped (but they use it even when they are well.)
So ---- those able bodied idiots who are parking using grandma's or grandpa's handicap plaque should be thanking God every day that they are not paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair for the rest of their lives. They should get off their butt, park out in the edges of the parking lots and walk their butts to the mall or wherever they are going. AND they should be ashamed that they decided to park in a handicapped site and deprive a truly handicapped person the space! SHAME!
AND if you are the idiot, who pulls in next to a van/truck with a lift, which prevents them from lowering the lift so they can actually get in the vehicle - then you deserve whatever is dished out - from being towed to being keyed! AND NO I have never done either - although I was sorely tempted. Particularly after the 5th time in weeks of having to stand up and back out the van using hand controls so my hubby can get in!
Face it - if you are truly handicapped, you won't be walking all over the shopping mall for hours. DUH!
That's the way I see it.
I UNDERSTAND people who are truly handicapped using handicapped parking. What I do not understand is those people who are not handicapped but still park there.
Now before I start a national war about conditions that aren't readily visible to the eye - let me reiterate - I'm not talking about truly handicapped people. My husband is a paraplegic in a wheelchair. Neither of us care whether we park close or far away - as long as we have the extra space for the lift in the van. Those are ONLY available if we use a marked handicapped space. I can't tell you how many idiots manage to park beside us in that little tiny slot allowed for the lift that is clearly marked no parking. That means I have to move the van out so hubby can get in the van. He drives from his wheelchair, so there is NO chair in the van. I have to stand up and use his hand controls to back it out so the lift has room to go down. It is terrifying!
But I digress! We recently came from our State Fair. We always go early so we can get a handicapped parking space with the extra side space for our lift. We sat for awhile and watched at least 20 perfectly healthy people, park, lock their vehicle and then hoof it at top speed to the entrance of the fair. No canes, no shortness of breath, no wheelchairs, no limping, no prothesis or bad legs. Unbelievable!
And now to start the next national war - just because you are old does NOT mean you are handicapped! Good grief! I've parked in our mall parking lot early, and watched car after car park in the handicap slots, the seniors get out, and then proceed to do an hour of mall walking for exercise. Cause I went in to exercise too and saw them. If you can walk the mall to exercise for an hour, you can park somewhere else other than a handicapped parking spot!
Who is to blame? I don't know! Maybe the doctors who give a handicapped plaque to everyone who has a tiny bit of a hobble, or is old, or is temporarily handicapped (but they use it even when they are well.)
So ---- those able bodied idiots who are parking using grandma's or grandpa's handicap plaque should be thanking God every day that they are not paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair for the rest of their lives. They should get off their butt, park out in the edges of the parking lots and walk their butts to the mall or wherever they are going. AND they should be ashamed that they decided to park in a handicapped site and deprive a truly handicapped person the space! SHAME!
AND if you are the idiot, who pulls in next to a van/truck with a lift, which prevents them from lowering the lift so they can actually get in the vehicle - then you deserve whatever is dished out - from being towed to being keyed! AND NO I have never done either - although I was sorely tempted. Particularly after the 5th time in weeks of having to stand up and back out the van using hand controls so my hubby can get in!
Face it - if you are truly handicapped, you won't be walking all over the shopping mall for hours. DUH!
That's the way I see it.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Just ranting a bit - Alzheimers
Till death do us part. Hmmm - remember saying that on my wedding day. I know lots of couples who haven't followed that vow - but I know about as many who have.
I just saw where Pat Robertson has said it is ok for a person to divorce a spouse who has Alzheimers. REALLY? So let's get down to the nitty gritty! If a spouse is being abused, hurt or manipulated - then find the nearest divorce court and go for it. If a spouse lies, cheats, deceives and/or emotionally abuses - then follow the first suggestion. Get the phone, call a lawyer and get out.
BUT really? Really, Pat? I don't watch him, but I do know who he is and I try to flip past that channel as fast as my little fingers will go. For him to suggest a person divorce their spouse because of Alzheimers makes my blood boil. It is one thing when both parties are sane, intelligent and can fight it out in court. It is a whole other ballgame when one spouse is totally in a world where no one else can enter. They cannot even defend themself, or make their wishes known, or say the words, "I love you." How can that be right to toss a husband or wife away just because you want to have a different life? Love doesn't stop just because someone is totally incapacitated by Alzheimers. It doesn't stop just because that loved one doesn't recognize them. It doesn't stop because that person can't have a conversation, hold a hand, give a kiss or hug.
My daddy had Alzheimers the last 10 years of his life. For years, he did fairly well, some forgetfullness, etc. In the last stages, when we visited, he would start crying. I felt he knew we were someone he should know and love, but he couldn't communicate any way but crying. Towards the end of his life, he didn't recognize any of us - not even my mom. He just laid there in the bed in a semi coma for a long, long time. My mom loved my daddy until the day she died. When he died, my mom cried and asked him why he had left her. She died two months to the day later. She was eaten up by cancer, but personally, I think she died from a broken heart. She certainly didn't quit loving daddy just because he could no longer talk to her, or recognize her or hold her hand and walk down the street.
That said, I am not in that position so maybe I shouldn't judge. I only know that nothing stops love. Not accidents, injury, illness or Alzheimers. Nothing!
I just saw where Pat Robertson has said it is ok for a person to divorce a spouse who has Alzheimers. REALLY? So let's get down to the nitty gritty! If a spouse is being abused, hurt or manipulated - then find the nearest divorce court and go for it. If a spouse lies, cheats, deceives and/or emotionally abuses - then follow the first suggestion. Get the phone, call a lawyer and get out.
BUT really? Really, Pat? I don't watch him, but I do know who he is and I try to flip past that channel as fast as my little fingers will go. For him to suggest a person divorce their spouse because of Alzheimers makes my blood boil. It is one thing when both parties are sane, intelligent and can fight it out in court. It is a whole other ballgame when one spouse is totally in a world where no one else can enter. They cannot even defend themself, or make their wishes known, or say the words, "I love you." How can that be right to toss a husband or wife away just because you want to have a different life? Love doesn't stop just because someone is totally incapacitated by Alzheimers. It doesn't stop just because that loved one doesn't recognize them. It doesn't stop because that person can't have a conversation, hold a hand, give a kiss or hug.
My daddy had Alzheimers the last 10 years of his life. For years, he did fairly well, some forgetfullness, etc. In the last stages, when we visited, he would start crying. I felt he knew we were someone he should know and love, but he couldn't communicate any way but crying. Towards the end of his life, he didn't recognize any of us - not even my mom. He just laid there in the bed in a semi coma for a long, long time. My mom loved my daddy until the day she died. When he died, my mom cried and asked him why he had left her. She died two months to the day later. She was eaten up by cancer, but personally, I think she died from a broken heart. She certainly didn't quit loving daddy just because he could no longer talk to her, or recognize her or hold her hand and walk down the street.
That said, I am not in that position so maybe I shouldn't judge. I only know that nothing stops love. Not accidents, injury, illness or Alzheimers. Nothing!
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
NO !!!!!!
I wonder if it is possible for a person's heart to actually shatter or break from emotional pain. I think mine just did. I am almost certain that jagged pieces are floating around in my aura, not exactly knowing where to land.
A very close soul friend said to me 13 years ago: If you don't have pain in your life, how can you experience joy? I guess that means you have to hurt to know the difference when you have joy.
Do you believe that your life is preordained from the moment you are born? Do you think that your destiny is formed the moment you take your first breath? That question really bothers me. If that first breath sets your final path into place - then what is the purpose of ever trying day by day? If it is not in your destiny, then you won't reach that goal regardless of what you do.
This would mean that if you were destined for a life of crime, then nothing you ever did for the rest of your life would change that. If someone precious you love is very sick, and that is their destiny, then they will die regardless of what doctors can do? I have no answers, even at the ripe old age of 60. All I have is more questions.
I cannot believe that my life, and the lives of those people that I love more than my own life have already had their destinies predetermined by a higher power. I refuse to believe that my precious 16 year old granddaughter was predestined at birth to have chronic liver failure and face having a transplant or dying. Why were doctors given such powerful skills to heal people, if their efforts didn't matter at all? Why do some people have to go through such pain, tears, anger and sickness while others go unscathed. Shouldn't the degenerates be the ones to suffer? Shouldn't the child molestors be the ones to die? Shouldn't the people who hurt, abuse and kill their children be the ones to suffer every day of their life???
Signing off because I have no answers. I have to go see if I can find those shattered fragments of my heart floating around and put it back together to face tomorrow.
A very close soul friend said to me 13 years ago: If you don't have pain in your life, how can you experience joy? I guess that means you have to hurt to know the difference when you have joy.
Do you believe that your life is preordained from the moment you are born? Do you think that your destiny is formed the moment you take your first breath? That question really bothers me. If that first breath sets your final path into place - then what is the purpose of ever trying day by day? If it is not in your destiny, then you won't reach that goal regardless of what you do.
This would mean that if you were destined for a life of crime, then nothing you ever did for the rest of your life would change that. If someone precious you love is very sick, and that is their destiny, then they will die regardless of what doctors can do? I have no answers, even at the ripe old age of 60. All I have is more questions.
I cannot believe that my life, and the lives of those people that I love more than my own life have already had their destinies predetermined by a higher power. I refuse to believe that my precious 16 year old granddaughter was predestined at birth to have chronic liver failure and face having a transplant or dying. Why were doctors given such powerful skills to heal people, if their efforts didn't matter at all? Why do some people have to go through such pain, tears, anger and sickness while others go unscathed. Shouldn't the degenerates be the ones to suffer? Shouldn't the child molestors be the ones to die? Shouldn't the people who hurt, abuse and kill their children be the ones to suffer every day of their life???
Signing off because I have no answers. I have to go see if I can find those shattered fragments of my heart floating around and put it back together to face tomorrow.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Ouch, ouch and more ouch
Whom ever said that exercise is good for you has a screw loose in their head! Decided that my old body needed some exercise so I trucked myself to the Y and jumped into an exercise class, head first. Did I mention "old body?" Being a teacher, it was very weird being on the student end and having the instructor come and quietly give me instructions on doing the exercise right. Sheesh!
We did a couple of moves that I did not think were physically possible. AND THE PLANK? REALLY? I can't even do girl pushups, and these ladies held plank position for at least 3 minutes. Weights? I started the very SMALLEST, lightest weights for the exercises. My arms today feel like somebody beat them with a baseball bat.
Then today at school .... Oh MY! My students laughed until they nearly had tears streaming down their faces as I moaned and groaned and ouched every time I got up from a chair or went down the steps of our portable. They thought it was hysterical. I'm giving my poor sore body a night of rest, and then hitting it again tomorrow. The moaning and groaning you hear tomorrow will be me - trying to be a big girl!
We did a couple of moves that I did not think were physically possible. AND THE PLANK? REALLY? I can't even do girl pushups, and these ladies held plank position for at least 3 minutes. Weights? I started the very SMALLEST, lightest weights for the exercises. My arms today feel like somebody beat them with a baseball bat.
Then today at school .... Oh MY! My students laughed until they nearly had tears streaming down their faces as I moaned and groaned and ouched every time I got up from a chair or went down the steps of our portable. They thought it was hysterical. I'm giving my poor sore body a night of rest, and then hitting it again tomorrow. The moaning and groaning you hear tomorrow will be me - trying to be a big girl!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
9/11
Facebook is great - but sometimes, the words just want to come spilling out - way more than FB will allow. So I'm blogging.
I've turned on the TV today to channel after channel. Lots and lots of remembrances of 9/11. I remember - like most people do, the horror, the disbelief and then anger. I am a teacher, and the hardest part for me was to keep calm in front of my students, when all I wanted to do was scream and cry. Everytime I left the classroom to walk the kids to another class, I would meet another collegue and just know by the looks on their faces, that the news had gotten worse.
As the day wore on, I just couldn't let my 5th graders go home to an empty house, flip on the TV and see the horror without even being warned. That was HARD! I sat them all down, and told them briefly what was happening. I knew that if I couldn't even grasp the enormity of the act, then how could they? We were all numb when school let out.
The next day, the students were angry, confused, terrified and sad. It was hard to even teach anything they would comprehend or even want to do. Finally, one of the students asked if they could write letters - they weren't sure who they would be to, they just wanted to write letters about the towers falling, etc. I took them immediately to the lab to write. Considering most of them had never had any keyboarding, and it was hunt and peck, I was impressed by how quickly their letters began to form. As I walked around, looking over their shoulders and reading their letters, it was heart breaking. Many were questions of anguish - like: Why do they hate us so much? What did we ever do to them? Will it happen again? Will something like that happen where we live? Why did they kill so many people.
Powerful words coming from 5th grade broken hearts! So today, on the 10th anniversary, I remember not only the terrorist acts, but the heartbreak of my students as they grappled with terror in their previously fairly safe world.
I've turned on the TV today to channel after channel. Lots and lots of remembrances of 9/11. I remember - like most people do, the horror, the disbelief and then anger. I am a teacher, and the hardest part for me was to keep calm in front of my students, when all I wanted to do was scream and cry. Everytime I left the classroom to walk the kids to another class, I would meet another collegue and just know by the looks on their faces, that the news had gotten worse.
As the day wore on, I just couldn't let my 5th graders go home to an empty house, flip on the TV and see the horror without even being warned. That was HARD! I sat them all down, and told them briefly what was happening. I knew that if I couldn't even grasp the enormity of the act, then how could they? We were all numb when school let out.
The next day, the students were angry, confused, terrified and sad. It was hard to even teach anything they would comprehend or even want to do. Finally, one of the students asked if they could write letters - they weren't sure who they would be to, they just wanted to write letters about the towers falling, etc. I took them immediately to the lab to write. Considering most of them had never had any keyboarding, and it was hunt and peck, I was impressed by how quickly their letters began to form. As I walked around, looking over their shoulders and reading their letters, it was heart breaking. Many were questions of anguish - like: Why do they hate us so much? What did we ever do to them? Will it happen again? Will something like that happen where we live? Why did they kill so many people.
Powerful words coming from 5th grade broken hearts! So today, on the 10th anniversary, I remember not only the terrorist acts, but the heartbreak of my students as they grappled with terror in their previously fairly safe world.
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