My son was recently hospitalized, so I had a chance to interact with several nurses. Most were capable and kind, but the nurse he had the night after his surgery was more like one of those in-your-face coaches on the weight loss shows. She decided, based on the snapshot of information she got from his records and appearance, that his health problems must be due to weight, lack of exercise and smoking. What she did not know was that he gained much of that extra weight after he gave up drinking. Trading vodka for milk was a good exchange. Too much milk can make you fat, but too much vodka can kill you.
She also didn't know that he just got a gym membership and that he formerly did weight lifting and body building. I understand that one of the functions of health professionals is to encourage healthy lifestyles, but too much encouragement is actually discouragement. The doctor who treated me while I had Grave's disease, blamed my blood pressure, among other things, on my weight gain. I had lost 30 pounds through the course of my illness. The 30 pounds I gained brought me back to my normal weight. But that was not in her snapshot--and she is no longer in my view-finder.
The encounter with the night nurse bothered me because, according to my nurse son, that is how he treats his patients. He considers having unhealthy habits evidence of being uncooperative. That if you really want pain relief, you won't mind not smoking. To use a "Star Wars" reference, he does not know the power of the dark side. A friend recently told me how difficult it was for her to stop smoking, even while watching her husband die of COPD. She worked for the same hospital my son was in, and only stopped smoking when they refused to let employees smoke in their own cars in the parking lot. I'm happy for her smokeless-success, but I think hospital policy is excess when it changes from encouraging to threatening. Flu shots are similarly "encouraged". You don't have to get one--unless you want to work there.
But the main reason that nurse bothered me was because she reminded me of me. I, too, judge people based on snapshots, even when I know them well. Half a dozen times in the past year, I have decided what Tracy's problem was and what he needed to do about it, only to find I was looking at behavior when the root went much deeper. Thankfully, the Lord shut my mouth before I started blasting away at the tip of the iceberg when the truth was below the surface.
I have had the same profile picture on Facebook for many years because, despite many attempts, I cannot take a decent selfie. Please don't judge me by my snapshot.
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Miss Diagnosis
Our youngest so had so little confidence in doctors even as a boy, that I used to ask him what medical school he graduated from. That's why Tracy recently suffered through four days of severe stomach pain despite my suggestion that he go to urgent care. I let the matter drop, so the fact that he was finally willing to go, indicated the seriousness of the problem. He left with little hope of getting relief and I certainly could not give much encouragement having witnessed so many unsatisfactory medical visits personally, with family members, and with home health patients. In place of platitudes, I urged him to make sure the doctor heard that he could not function in this condition. "Function" is a word health practitioners sometimes respond to.
So Tracy went to urgent care complaining of severe pain and having been unable to eat or drink for four days. He told the nurse he had taken 800 milligram ibuprofen that did not touch the pain and that it hurt even when he drank water. She suspected gall stones and sent him to the hospital for a CT scan. She correctly diagnosed what was amiss, but her follow up was also a miss. The hospital sent him back to the clinic for further instructions, the clinic sent him home. The nurse practitioner left Tracy a message after hours telling him to take ibuprofen for his pain (hello? we discussed this), not to eat fatty foods (that would be easy since he couldn't eat anything) and to wait for the stones to pass. The latter, to use current vernacular, isn't even a thing. Gall stones do not pass, like kidney stones, although sometimes they get stuck in the bile duct, but that causes even more serious problems. Maybe she was banking on the rare occasions when the stones dissolve, but the odds of that happening are about the same as of winning the lottery. She also offered to schedule a surgery consultation--eventually.
The nurse practitioner hit dead on with her diagnosis, but fouled the follow up. What he needed was pain relief, I.V. fluids for dehydration, and surgery. After hearing the nurse's clueless phone message, Tracy and Reed went to the emergency room. I sent Reed along because he knows how to be confrontational enough to be taken seriously, but not taken to jail, as our muscular son might. At the e.r., he (Tracy, not Reed) was given strong pain meds, IV fluids and, since surgery was scheduled for the following day, he was admitted as an observation patient. I have found the usual length of an e.r. visit to be four to six hours and this was no exception. Reed got home after midnight. But we slept easier, if briefly, knowing our son was finally being taken care of.
Unfortunately, I have encountered many health practitioners who consider their job done once there is a diagnosis. And the treatment pendulum has swung from getting a prescription every time you see a doctor, to their recommending the over-the-counter products most people try before they go to the trouble and expense of a doctor visit. Four days after Tracy's surgery, the clinic finally called. They wanted to go over his lab results. He wants to go over their heads and file a complaint. I will be glad to help write it. I know how to be confrontational while using pointedly polite language. Medical care that ends at diagnosis misses the point. The patient is not seeking information, he is looking for relief.
So Tracy went to urgent care complaining of severe pain and having been unable to eat or drink for four days. He told the nurse he had taken 800 milligram ibuprofen that did not touch the pain and that it hurt even when he drank water. She suspected gall stones and sent him to the hospital for a CT scan. She correctly diagnosed what was amiss, but her follow up was also a miss. The hospital sent him back to the clinic for further instructions, the clinic sent him home. The nurse practitioner left Tracy a message after hours telling him to take ibuprofen for his pain (hello? we discussed this), not to eat fatty foods (that would be easy since he couldn't eat anything) and to wait for the stones to pass. The latter, to use current vernacular, isn't even a thing. Gall stones do not pass, like kidney stones, although sometimes they get stuck in the bile duct, but that causes even more serious problems. Maybe she was banking on the rare occasions when the stones dissolve, but the odds of that happening are about the same as of winning the lottery. She also offered to schedule a surgery consultation--eventually.
The nurse practitioner hit dead on with her diagnosis, but fouled the follow up. What he needed was pain relief, I.V. fluids for dehydration, and surgery. After hearing the nurse's clueless phone message, Tracy and Reed went to the emergency room. I sent Reed along because he knows how to be confrontational enough to be taken seriously, but not taken to jail, as our muscular son might. At the e.r., he (Tracy, not Reed) was given strong pain meds, IV fluids and, since surgery was scheduled for the following day, he was admitted as an observation patient. I have found the usual length of an e.r. visit to be four to six hours and this was no exception. Reed got home after midnight. But we slept easier, if briefly, knowing our son was finally being taken care of.
Unfortunately, I have encountered many health practitioners who consider their job done once there is a diagnosis. And the treatment pendulum has swung from getting a prescription every time you see a doctor, to their recommending the over-the-counter products most people try before they go to the trouble and expense of a doctor visit. Four days after Tracy's surgery, the clinic finally called. They wanted to go over his lab results. He wants to go over their heads and file a complaint. I will be glad to help write it. I know how to be confrontational while using pointedly polite language. Medical care that ends at diagnosis misses the point. The patient is not seeking information, he is looking for relief.
Stinky Sovereignty
Some people have cats. We have a Maynard. But for the past couple weeks, Maynard, who is normally as happy as a stoner with Cheetos, hasn't looked well. His tail wasn't as fluffy, nor was his fur in general, his eyes were goopy, and he was hiding out in the basement instead of exploring the outdoors. I knew he had tape worms because of the rice-grain shaped egg casings by his tail, but Maynard refused to eat the canned food I mixed my only dose of worm medication with. So last week I took him to the vet. Maynard is so scared of going to the vet that he usually pees in the carrier on the way. This time, I could tell by the smell that he had provided a stool sample instead.
Because of that sample, the doctor discovered that Maynard had both tape and round worms. If he hadn't panic pooped on the way to the vet, we would have solved only half the problem. That's how sovereign God is. He uses millions of tiny events as pieces of a greater plan. He knew we were worried about Maynard and what would be needed to make him well. As a bonus, the vet's office cleaned up the cat carrier and the vet was highly motivated to clean the cat before taking his temperature. Maynard is exploring outside as I write this. The God who delights to do the impossible is also the orchestrator of the ordinary events of our everyday lives. He is sovereign, even when it stinks.
Because of that sample, the doctor discovered that Maynard had both tape and round worms. If he hadn't panic pooped on the way to the vet, we would have solved only half the problem. That's how sovereign God is. He uses millions of tiny events as pieces of a greater plan. He knew we were worried about Maynard and what would be needed to make him well. As a bonus, the vet's office cleaned up the cat carrier and the vet was highly motivated to clean the cat before taking his temperature. Maynard is exploring outside as I write this. The God who delights to do the impossible is also the orchestrator of the ordinary events of our everyday lives. He is sovereign, even when it stinks.
Friday, November 25, 2016
What I Know About the Electoral College
What I know about the electoral college would fit in a thimble with room left over. The only time anyone gives it a thought is when we elect a president, and usually not even then unless one candidate gets the popular vote and the other wins the electoral points. As was the case in this year's epic battle between the "bully" and the "bitch". When Hillary's supporters were not busy sobbing or blocking highways, they were calling for the end of the electoral college. I learned enough from Wikipedia to understand the basics about it, but its intent is to make the election process more equitable.
Anything that does that is good news for Montana. Our population is barely over a million. If elections were decided by popular vote alone, no presidential candidate would have any vested interest in supporting policies beneficial to low population states like Montana, Idaho, Wyoming and the Dakotas. American presidents would be chosen by voters in a dozen mega-cities on the east and west coasts. There must be something in sea water that corrodes minds the way it does metal, because coast dwellers are disproportionately liberal. They are also disproportionately living off the government. Their vested interest would be to support the candidate who promised the most wealth redistribution. Specifically, taking tax money from the industrious and giving it to the indolent.
So if the electoral college is a flawed system, it fits right in with the rest of our government. I'm going to hold that thought right here in my thimble . . . along with my tears for Hillary.
Anything that does that is good news for Montana. Our population is barely over a million. If elections were decided by popular vote alone, no presidential candidate would have any vested interest in supporting policies beneficial to low population states like Montana, Idaho, Wyoming and the Dakotas. American presidents would be chosen by voters in a dozen mega-cities on the east and west coasts. There must be something in sea water that corrodes minds the way it does metal, because coast dwellers are disproportionately liberal. They are also disproportionately living off the government. Their vested interest would be to support the candidate who promised the most wealth redistribution. Specifically, taking tax money from the industrious and giving it to the indolent.
So if the electoral college is a flawed system, it fits right in with the rest of our government. I'm going to hold that thought right here in my thimble . . . along with my tears for Hillary.
Saturday, November 12, 2016
Big Girl Panties
If this year's election was unlike any other I can remember, this year's aftermath is even stranger. Most of us felt there were no good choices for president, so voting for the "lesser of two evils" was even more necessary than usual. So when, despite all predictions and celebrity endorsements, Donald Trump beat Hillary Clinton, there was literal wailing and gnashing of teeth from the left leaning. There were also protests, shouting matches and civil disobedience. But not here, where people are much more civilized than in the cities. Although today I saw a lone protestor standing on Main Street with her "Not My President" sign. I thought that took a lot of courage for a couple reasons. For one thing, Kalispell is mostly conservative, second, carrying that sign is like publicly proclaiming "I don't understand how elections work" or "I'm too immature to accept decisions I don't like". If the election had gone the other way, I really can't picture Trump supporters crying or blocking highways.
When Hillary realized she had lost the election, she put on her big girl panties and accepted defeat. It is time for her supporters to do the same. (Especially since she asked them to.) Their behavior reminds me of my preschoolers at the grocery store check stand throwing a fit if I didn't buy them the toy or candy they wanted. I told them, "If you can't get what you want by being good, you will never get it by being naughty." Or the short version, "You git what you git and you don't throw a fit." The only grounds for protest at this point, would be if someone had been prevented from voting for the candidate of his/her choice. There is a time for supporting your candidate. And there is a time for putting on your big girl panties, accepting what has happened, and getting on with your life. Most of us have had many "Not my president/governor/mayor/etc." experiences in our lifetime. We deal with it. Life goes on.
I did not know which candidate God would use to fulfill his purposes for our nation, and (this time) I did not try to tell Him what to do (although my husband did). But I wonder if, after so many years of playing the race card under Obama, God wanted to spare our country from further polarization of Hillary using the gender card. I have no problems with a woman president, but the presidency is no place for the affirmative action agenda of using under-represented, but under-qualified, minorities. Unfortunately, those were our only choices. Yes, billionaires are a minority too. Election day was our chance to speak up, now it is time to shut up and grow up. And for coping with chaos, nothing trumps humor.
When Hillary realized she had lost the election, she put on her big girl panties and accepted defeat. It is time for her supporters to do the same. (Especially since she asked them to.) Their behavior reminds me of my preschoolers at the grocery store check stand throwing a fit if I didn't buy them the toy or candy they wanted. I told them, "If you can't get what you want by being good, you will never get it by being naughty." Or the short version, "You git what you git and you don't throw a fit." The only grounds for protest at this point, would be if someone had been prevented from voting for the candidate of his/her choice. There is a time for supporting your candidate. And there is a time for putting on your big girl panties, accepting what has happened, and getting on with your life. Most of us have had many "Not my president/governor/mayor/etc." experiences in our lifetime. We deal with it. Life goes on.
I did not know which candidate God would use to fulfill his purposes for our nation, and (this time) I did not try to tell Him what to do (although my husband did). But I wonder if, after so many years of playing the race card under Obama, God wanted to spare our country from further polarization of Hillary using the gender card. I have no problems with a woman president, but the presidency is no place for the affirmative action agenda of using under-represented, but under-qualified, minorities. Unfortunately, those were our only choices. Yes, billionaires are a minority too. Election day was our chance to speak up, now it is time to shut up and grow up. And for coping with chaos, nothing trumps humor.
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
Fruit Inspectors
The Christian Mingle Inspector..
If I have done it correctly, this blog should link to the above video that I enjoyed on Facebook It humorously points out the clipboard criteria by which we judge other Christians (and churches). Believers have been beaten to death with the verse "Judge not lest you be judged", mostly by unbelievers. And they are right, if in judging we look down on others as if we were superior. Us Christians / Them Sinners, when the truth is Us Christian Sinners. But the Bible also says, the spiritual man judges all things and to discern the validity of a teaching by the teacher's fruit. So we are not judges, but we can be fruit inspectors. Genuine faith changes your choices. So let's review what fruit is.
Fruit is: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control.
Fruit is not:
- Appearance: The Biblical principle is not to judge by outward appearance (1 Sam 16:7, Jn 7:24), but that is 180 degrees opposite of how we are wired. We love to judge based on how people are dressed, hair length/style/color. And the current trend of tattoos and piercings make our job of judging that much easier. We are also to be focused on our character more than outward beauty.
- Clothing: This is part of appearance, but it has it's own separate principle, modesty. Unless God is going to appear on a mountain top, even cleanliness is not required. Jesus ministered in the midst of messy people. There is no Biblical dress standard aside from not being overly focused on clothing. If suits and dresses are the standard, Jehovah Witnesses are good Christians.
- Music style: There is no Biblical standard, but from the instruments listed, Jewish music was a lot spunkier than many Christians consider proper. I am a Christian who prefers wooden instruments and music written in 3/4 time, but I don't presume that is God's standard. The principle is whether what you listen to draws you closer to or further from God. That which is not of faith is sin. (Rom. 14:23)
- Books/movies/media: The same principle as above applies. Selecting radio stations, movies, books etc. from a Christian genre may lessen the danger of worldly influence, but we should apply Biblical discernment to both secular and sacred media. For myself, listening to too much news talk programming, even if it's Christian based, makes me doubt God's sovereignty and have difficulty obeying Phil. 4:8. When that starts to happen, I shut it off. Well informed worry is still sin.
- A church like mine: The principle to apply for selecting a home church is that it faithfully teaches, and upholds the standards of, the Bible. Period. The rest is preference. We are blessed to live in a country where there are more varieties of churches than Baskin-Robbins flavors. But we need to remember, once we are safely ensconced in our preferred church home, that worship is not one style fits all.
- Trappings: Bumper stickers/logos/art/etc.can be good reminders to us and testimony to unbelievers. But if we do not display the fruit of the Spirit as listed above, we should probably take down the trappings. No witness at all is better than a poor one. Unbelievers and our children can spot hypocrisy from a quarter mile away.
Sunday, November 6, 2016
Knock Three Times
I have noticed that when God has a message He wants me to get, He usually sends it three times. Instead of voice mail, text, and e-mail, it might be BSF, church and Christian radio. It's as if God thinks I'm slow on the uptake--which would be insulting if it wasn't true. Lately, what He has reinforced is that our prodigals might not walk close to the Lord in our lifetimes. In three very separate incidents, I have heard Christian mothers of grown children express this, along with their willingness to accept that if necessary. Since we saw God intervene so directly with our prodigal son recently, I am hoping the changes will come before he marries and has children, so that he can make wise choices. But right now it is enough that he has given his drinking, which consumed a large part of his life, to God.
For the first time in 15 years, our son feels a flicker of faith. As tempting as it is to throw a truckload of theology and large logs of expectations on that spark, trying to make up for lost time, that would only put the flame out. Spiritual fire, just like real fire, begins with kindling and gentle blowing until is it gradually able to handle more. That is what the Spirit continues to do in my own life, and to try to accelerate my son's growth for my own satisfaction, is to put my schedule before God's. God is sovereign and can grow faith in spite of our interference. He just shouldn't have to. Smothering faith is Satan's job and I don't want to be Satan's little helper.
So while I wait, I cling to three unshakeable truths from John six:
1. No one comes to Christ unless the Father draws him. vs. 44
2. All that the Father gives Jesus will come to Him. vs. 37
3. None of those given will be lost, all will be resurrected. vs. 39
I can rest in this because we are not saved by our own volition, but by the irresistible Holy Spirit. Would we even want a God who could begin to draw someone to Christ but not finish? Like it's too hard? Like He didn't know we would be so difficult? God is drawing our son in His time and His way. It's not about Tracy. It's not about me. It's about God. My job is to pray, obey and get out of God's way. I don't want to find out how hard God can knock.
For the first time in 15 years, our son feels a flicker of faith. As tempting as it is to throw a truckload of theology and large logs of expectations on that spark, trying to make up for lost time, that would only put the flame out. Spiritual fire, just like real fire, begins with kindling and gentle blowing until is it gradually able to handle more. That is what the Spirit continues to do in my own life, and to try to accelerate my son's growth for my own satisfaction, is to put my schedule before God's. God is sovereign and can grow faith in spite of our interference. He just shouldn't have to. Smothering faith is Satan's job and I don't want to be Satan's little helper.
So while I wait, I cling to three unshakeable truths from John six:
1. No one comes to Christ unless the Father draws him. vs. 44
2. All that the Father gives Jesus will come to Him. vs. 37
3. None of those given will be lost, all will be resurrected. vs. 39
I can rest in this because we are not saved by our own volition, but by the irresistible Holy Spirit. Would we even want a God who could begin to draw someone to Christ but not finish? Like it's too hard? Like He didn't know we would be so difficult? God is drawing our son in His time and His way. It's not about Tracy. It's not about me. It's about God. My job is to pray, obey and get out of God's way. I don't want to find out how hard God can knock.
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