What Not to Say to a Sick Patient

After Spencer was born I had a grand mal seizure in the middle of the night. Those are the big full body shaking episodes that you often see on television or the movies when someone is having a seizure. I don't remember a thing about it. I just went to bed one night and woke up with two paramedics staring down at me. THAT freaked me out. You don't expect to wake up in the middle of the night with two strangers in your bedroom. I went on to have many more seizures over the course of seven years, all of them in the middle of the night. It wasn't too bad for me, but they terrified Herman. He did not like waking up in the middle of the night to find his sweet wife unresponsive and shaking in the bed next to him. Well, after my first seizure we needed to figure out what was causing them, so my doctor sent me to a neurologist. He discovered that I had epilepsy, and I probably had had it my entire life. Long story short ... I took medication for it for several years, received a blessing, was tested, and my epilepsy had magically disappeared. So I'm all better now. Hurray!

But this is not a story of my epilepsy. This is a story about my experience with neurologists. I remember my chemistry teacher in high school talking about her college physics professors. She said that they freaked her out because she felt like they were only thinking of formulas and numbers and equations whenever they looked at the world. That is sort of how I have seen the neurologists with whom I have come in contact. My two neurologists were VERY good doctors. They knew their stuff. They knew my condition. But, oh my, I always felt as if they were seeing through me every time I saw them. You know that feeling you get when you see someone looking directly at you, but feeling as if they are looking straight through you into the deepest part of your psyche? That's how I felt. Luckily I was able to understand a lot about what was going on with me, so they didn't need to explain much. But that isn't always the case. How do they handle things when they are having to explain complex neurological problems to people struggling to understand the conditions that plague them?

Yesterday I got a good look at what happens in this situation when a neurologist with bad people skills comes to offer bad news to an unsuspecting family. It wasn't pretty.

This past Monday night we had to take my mom to the hospital so that they could take some time to get her psych drugs regulated. It is one of the difficult things about psychiatric illnesses that there is never really any great cure for them. There are drugs that help, but how much of these drugs to take and in what combination is a total trial and error process. Soooooo frustrating. This makes it to where you could be taking drugs for bi-polar disorder that works just fine, but after a year or two your mind decides that it has had enough of that, so the drugs stop working so well. Then your mind begins to shut down in its own special way, unique to you. That is when we need to bring Mom into a hospital to get things regulated. Monday night it was clear that she needed extra help, so we took her to the hospital in Rolla, and they admitted her to their psych unit.

On Tuesday night my dad wanted to visit Mom, but he is still getting used to the area, so I drove him up. The visit actually went relatively well, especially when compared to how these visits have gone in the past. It was obvious that Mom still needed to stay there for several more days, but it was obvious that she was getting better, thank goodness. But while we were sitting in a little dining area with Mom a woman came rushing in. She introduced herself as a doctor. We assumed that she was a psychiatrist, because what other doctor hangs out in the psych unit? After saying her name and sitting down she looked at my dad and me and said ...

"Well, she has a giant hole in her head."

Really. Those are the exact words that came out of her mouth. My dad and I just looked at her. She was calm and collected. It was as if she was informing us that it was raining outside. That's it. And because you can't always control your first thoughts in moments of crisis, my initial thought was ...

"WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?????"

I mean, seriously, who comes into a room and says that to someone???? You don't just walk calmly up to someone's family and tell them that their loved one has a hole in their head. My dad and I first thought that there was a literal hole in her head, like from a gunshot wound. But surely that wasn't true because we would have noticed a gaping wound in her head, right?

We just stared at this lady. Then she clarified to say that Mom had had a stroke at some time. It wasn't a recent stroke, but sometime in the recent past. That is sort of a big deal, don't you think? Strokes can be horribly serious, affecting everything from speech to gross and fine motor skills to behavior. Surely this is not how she announces strokes to people's families normally. The whole conversation got progressively worse. Instead of explaining exactly where the stroke was and what the effects of this would be, she got irritated with us that she had no medical records for Mom. We explained that Mom had only moved here on Saturday, so we haven't had a chance to go to a doctor. We told her that Mom had had a complete medical evaluation in Columbia last fall, so they would have a good record of her med history. She then told us that we had to drive to Columbia to get these records for her. Is this seriously where all of our world's medical expenses have led us to at this day and age? Is it impossible for hospitals to share records electronically? This lady seemed to think that she couldn't collaborate with other doctors at all, and instead of nicely explaining her dilemma, she basically yelled at us for not bringing any medical images with us when we rushed to the emergency room Monday night. Erg....

We thought she needed history, so we started giving Mom's medical history. But as we explained the struggles that Mom has had with her bi-polar disorder in the past several years this doctor seemed irritated with our descriptions. This didn't seem to be the information she was looking for. But my dad and I are old pros when it comes to navigating this world of mental healthcare, so we know what they want to know. We were getting more and more confused as to why this lady kept referring to this hole in Mom's head and not caring at all about her psychological state. What was going on with this strange woman who showed up late in the evening to unload bad news in the crappiest way possible?

Finally, after five minutes of my dad and I trying to talk about Mom's mental health and the doctor repeating that Mom has a hole in her head, she got up to leave. She handed me a card with her info so that we could know where to send Mom's medical records, and ...

Everything began to make sense.

She wasn't the world's worst psychiatrist. She was the world's worst neurologist. She didn't care about Mom's behavior because she was only interested in the physiology of Mom's mind. She looked at Mom as a collection of neurons instead of as a person with thoughts and feelings of her own. I am still terribly irritated with her horrendous bedside manner, but at least now I understand where she was coming from as she spoke with us.

The good news is that, if Mom truly has had a stroke, it doesn't seem to have affected her in any noticeable way ... unless her latest struggles with her bi-polar disorder were worsened because of it. Of course, I am only saying that because I have had to make my own judgement call on this. The doctor was no help at all in this diagnosis. At least I am grateful that my parents are close by now so that our family is able to help in this time of need.

The mind is a horribly complicated organ. There is still so much to understand about how it works and how to fix it when it breaks down. But this I know ... When a person as suffered some sort of breakdown, whether it is due to mental illness or epilepsy, or a stroke, or Parkinson's, or Alzheimer's or something like that, it is a horribly difficult thing for a family to deal with. It affects everyone, and it is scary, so if you are a doctor dealing with these situations, it might be nice for you to learn how to break news to families. It would be nice to be met with care and concern when we receive devastating news rather than the cold, hard facts.

Most Likely To ...

Two blog posts in one day? It's a miracle!

How can I not add this bit of great news to my blog history?

Laney was recently chosen Most Likely To ...

SUCCEED

by her peers at Waynesville High School! Hurray!

What a great honor to be recognized by her peers in such a way! Waynesville High School's class of 2013 is a top notch class. There are 13 valedictorians this year. There is a lot of talent among the ranks.

A few weeks ago Laney told me that she was among the finalists for Most Likely to Succeed. The other possibilities were excellent kids, and although I think that Laney is amazingly awesome in every way, I didn't expect her to win the final vote.

But she did!

Reasons why I think that they are right that Laney is likely to succeed in her future life:

1. Laney has some good business sense.

How many 18 year-old seniors do you know who own their own rental properties? Not a lot. Laney is good with her money, recognizes the value of it, and makes plans for how to make good investments with what she has. That is way more than I could say about myself at that age. If this business sense continues, she will have a solid foundation for her financial future.

2. Laney is hard working.

If there is a job to do, Laney will find a way to do it!

3. Laney is motivated to do her best in everything.

When working on her assignments for church or school Laney always goes above and beyond in her performance. She does all that is asked of her with a bit of pizzazz added on. In a world where too many are content to do only the minimum of what is required, Laney should be able to find success as a person who does even more.

4. Laney is constantly seeking to do the Lord's will in her life.

Life is hard. Isn't it a bit easier to manage if we are trying to figure out what the Lord would have us do? That way, even if things are hard, we can at least know that we are on the right path and will be blessed in the end. Laney is definitely a girl who makes sure that she is on the right path before she heads down it.

5. Laney is genuinely kind to all around her.

If there is ever a special-needs person who needs encouragement or assistance, Laney is always a good person to turn to. She can be kind to everyone, even those who others find difficult to treat kindly. I was always impressed with how Laney interacts with children with autistic tendencies or my mom who can often wax on poetically about complete nonsense when she is in a bi-polar swing. This ability will serve her well in her future.

6. Laney is humble.

Laney is super excited to know that her peers think of her as likely to succeed, but she isn't one to talk about it much. She is a good, humble girl who accepts the kind words of others but doesn't let it go to her head. Humility is rare in the world these days. People are either convinced of their awesomeness or they are convinced of their nothingness. Humility requires a delicate balance, recognizing your talents and gifts, but acknowledging that they are gifts and blessings from God. Laney can do this.

7. Laney is awesome.

Kind, sweet, intelligent, hard-working, motivated. All of these qualities will serve Laney well as she heads to BYU-Idaho in the fall, a mission in the winter, and all of life afterwards. I can't wait to see where life takes my sweet girl in the future.

The Move

My Childhood Home

Change is hard. Exciting, but hard. There are certain parts of my life that I wish would remain static, never changing, always exactly as I remember them. But life doesn't really work that way, does it?

I spent my entire childhood in Carrollton, Missouri. Except for a few years as a young child, all of those years were spent in our little house at 703 N. Ely. It was a simple little house without any bells and whistles. Believe it or not, we didn't have air conditioning. Ever. Not during the horribly hot summer of 1980 when we moved into the basement to find relief from the oppressive heat. Not during the more recent hot summers. With my new air-conditioning sensitive body, I can't imagine how we survived the summers without it. My parents bought the house for $18000 almost forty years ago. When they bought the house it had only two bedrooms, but eventually we remodeled the attic and added two more bedrooms, one for me and one for my brothers. The house expanded one more time when we tore off the roof, raised it four feet, and built four rooms in the new second story. That was an adventure. We did all of the work ourselves when I was in junior high. After we had torn off the room, my parents went away for a few days for some conference somewhere, leaving my brothers and I in charge. Of course, as soon as they left, a giant rain storm came up. It was going to be a major disaster. Luckily a few people from the community brought over some tarps, the storm didn't end up being that bad, and disaster was diverted.

I have so many memories of my home there. We lived in city limits, but we were on the very edge of town with lots of land in the back. Our neighbors had cows. We had a horrible goat for a few years. Stinky, hateful Clyde the goat. We had a barn and a chicken house and an out building that we called the play house. We played baseball in the field. My dad had a huge garden. We had fruit trees and honey bees. We had a little train that used to go through the neighborhood when I was real little before they shut down that line. We mowed the whole property by hand ... all the way until last year. Lots and lots of memories.

Yesterday began a new chapter for my family as I helped my parents move to our area, leaving their home of almost forty years to begin a new adventure in their lives. And it was hard.

Herman and I have felt for a while that my parents needed to move here to be closer to us. Mom is struggling more and more with the bipolar disorder that has plagued her for the last fifteen years. Have I said it before? MENTAL ILLNESS SUCKS!!!!! I hate it! It has gotten progressively and increasingly worse in the last two years. My poor father has had to be the primary caretaker for Mom, and it has not been easy. To add to everything, my brother Ryan is there as well. Ryan has cerebral palsy, and he needs assistance for about everything. As both of my parents have gotten older, this has become more difficult. We have worried about them and wanted to help, but it has been hard for my parents to make the final decision to move.

Things changed in the last month after my dad suffered a heart attack and was rushed to the emergency room in Kansas City. Because my mom is really not doing well, she was unable to help at all. I rushed up to Carrollton with Spencer a few weeks ago. I left 14 year-old Spencer in charge of my mom and brother while I drove Dad to the Carrollton ER. Then I headed up to KC when they transported Dad by ambulance to North KC Hospital. This experience led my dad to really feel like he needed to be closer to us. Luckily we had just purchased a duplex in St. Robert that was a perfect fit for them. Ryan would be able to live in the downstairs area as a little apartment, and my parents could have the upstairs. It would be a really good match.  Dad decided to make the change.

I think that moving was hard for Dad because he was having to make so many of the decisions on his own. My mom has always been the organizer and the planner of the family. When we did anything, Mom would have sat down and planned it all out. Dad provided the muscle. Now Dad was having to do all the planning. He did pretty good, but it was stressing him out, and I didn't want for the stress to hurt him so soon after his heart surgery. I told Dad to sit back and relax and let the Blau Moving Crew take charge. We are experienced. And we're skilled. And we're cheap.

Friday Herman, Laney, Spencer and I headed to Carrollton, picked up a U-Haul truck, and got to work. We were FAST. The whole house was packed and loaded in two hours. Two hours! It was so much smoother than I expected. Mom was in a daze for most of the time, so she didn't mind that we were moving beds and boxes and tables out of the house. By Friday evening we were ready to go, but we decided to stay the night and leave early the next day.

On Saturday morning we walked room to room, making sure that everything was packed and ready to go. That's when it hit me. My parents were leaving my home. It would never be the same again. My kids would never again come to Grandma and Grandpa's house to color eggs on the Friday before Easter. They would not wake up early to go outside and hunt for the eggs that Grandpa hid earlier in the morning. There would be no more times seeing the kids run through the huge side yard, playing baseball or soccer or football. I wouldn't see the adorable white squirrels that run up our trees. I wouldn't get to walk through our little pet cemetery where my kitty Oliver, and our dogs Petunia and Pumpkin and Jackie and countless other Landis pets are buried. No more yummy mulberry tree raids. No more barefoot walks through the luscious and thick grass of our yard. I wouldn't comment again on how incredibly bright the street lights are in Carrollton. Seriously, I have never seen such bright lights. It is like standing under a huge full moon every night of the year. Every room holds a memory for me. I was not ready for this change. I cried. A lot. Herman was sweet and comforted me a lot, but he reminded me that it was ten times harder for my dad to make this decision, so I needed to be strong. So I was. But it was hard.

The hardest part of the day came when I came upon a box filled with letters that my mom had written to my grandma. I pulled out a few that she wrote in 1991. As I read her words I heard the woman who I knew as my mom. I haven't heard that voice in so many years. I thought about how this was only twenty years ago. Grandma was still alive and totally healthy. Mom was about my age now and totally healthy. In just five short years everything would be totally different. I was devastated thinking about how quickly life changes. I mourned for the loss of the mom I had growing up. I mourned for the lost health of both of my parents. I mourned for the loss of my childhood. And now the house was going too. I wish life didn't have to be so difficult sometimes ... but where would the challenge in life be then? Without the trials we don't recognize the tender mercies of the Lord in our life, do we? And we have found so many tender mercies through this experience. I just hate that mental illness has to be involved. If I get the chance to make my own world someday I don't think I'll let this be an option. It sucks. For everyone involved.

After a bit of difficulty, everyone got to St. Robert and moved in. It is going to be wonderful having Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Ryan so close. Ryan is going to be glad to have a way to escape his mom and dad every once in a while. Dad will like having someone to help share the burden a bit. I think that Mom would like it too once she gets in a right mind. I know that the kids are super excited to have them in town. We'll make it work.

Change is hard. But sometimes it is necessary. I know that this will be the right situation for our family at this time. Hopefully there will be many, many happy years together to come. Bring it on!

My mom and dad in front of their house in easier times. Love them!

On Puzzles and Marriage

He's teasing me. I'm sure he is teasing me in this picture. Or maybe it's my normal look?

 A few weeks ago Herman gave a talk in stake conference about marriage. It was lovely, like most of his talks are. One part of the talk stood out to me though. He was sharing how when he is counseling couples who are struggling in their marriages, he often asks them to name activities that the two of them enjoy doing together. It surprises him that more often than not, the couples have a horrible time coming up with activities that are mutually fun for them. At first when he said that, my reaction was, "How could you struggle coming up with an answer for that question? Herman and I have lots of fun together!" But then I got to thinking ...

And here's the thing ... Herman and I have lots of fun together. Our conversations never lag. I think I could talk to him about almost anything until the sun burns away forever. We go on dates a lot. Now that we have built in babysitters we can go out several times a week. We have mutually beneficial interests like our children, the Church, our companies ... things like that. So we have a ton in common, but when it comes to activities that we both love to do ... well, we had to think a bit. You see ...

• We like to watch movies, but Herman likes action/adventure movies, and I like romantic ones.
• We like politics, but Herman is more conservative, and I am right. :) I jest ... sort of.
• We both like to read, but that's not great for couple bonding.
• Herman likes to look at houses and buy rental properties. Me? Not so much.
• Herman likes to bargain shop at thrift stores. I would rather peel my skin off layer by layer with a paring knife than go shopping.
• I'm a night owl, Herman is a morning guy.
• And on and on and on.

It was kind of shocking to me to see how hard it was for us to come up with an activity. Herman mentioned this in his conference talk, and it is true ... We were excellent daters before we got married. Excellent. I planned some super amazing dates for us back then. Somewhere deep in my psyche I must have known that he was The One, because I didn't have that much creativity for any of the other people I dated. But as the years have passed by we've gotten a bit boring with our dates. I think that that may be because for the longest time while our kids were young we were just so overjoyed to have alone time as a couple that we didn't feel any need to plan an extravaganza. Dinner and conversation was all we needed ... all we have needed for all these years. 

Anyway, after thinking about this for awhile, Herman and I decided that we needed to find an activity that we could do together. Herman thought that we could buy a puzzle and do it together ... not because he actually likes doing puzzles, but because he thought it would be a good thing for us to do together while we talk. Great idea! ... in theory. In practice it was a bit bumpy.

The first thing we needed to do was to find a puzzle. One day I was at Wal-mart, and I decided to go ahead and pick up the puzzle for us to do. There isn't a huge selection of puzzles at Wal-mart, but I took some time and found what I thought would be perfect for us. It was a 1000 piece puzzle of a country scene that looks a lot like the Thomas Kinkade pictures that are so popular. It was beautiful, and I thought that it would be a good challenge for us.  It was practically perfect ... or so I thought. When I got home and showed it to Herman, I found out that his idea of the perfect puzzle was totally different. First of all, he wanted a puzzle that we could easily finish in one evening. 1000 pieces was not going to work for that. Then he didn't like that the picture on the puzzle had colors that were too similar. While I looked at it and saw beauty, Herman looked at it and saw puzzle solving chaos. We had to go back and choose another puzzle.

Last Friday we headed back to Wal-mart during our date night and tried again. As we stood in the puzzle aisle and tried to come to a decision it became clear that Herman's idea of what a good puzzle would be and my idea was completely different. I liked the idea of a challenge that would take us several days and test our puzzle making skills to the max. Herman liked the idea of a puzzle that could be completed fairly quickly and done in one evening, giving us the chance to do something together without overwhelming us so much that we would be unable to converse during the process. We compromised. We bought a set of Disney puzzles with puzzles ranging from 300 to 500 pieces. Easy to do, but not too easy. So the first part of our adventure was completed. Hurray!

We brought our puzzle home and headed out to Herman's office to complete it so that it wouldn't be scattered by curious youngsters. That's when we discovered that we have two very different ways of solving puzzles. I like to complete the outside edge and then fill in the middle. Herman likes to look for similar pictures and put them together first. I focus on speed. Herman focuses on quality time. Herman is pretty good at collaborating together. I work much better on my own. I liked having my own little section of the puzzle to work on by myself. Herman was always wanting to reach over and grab some of my pieces so that he could "help me." We were a goofy mess as we tried to make our Disney masterpiece. 

It was so interesting to see how different our personalities are. We approach problems so differently. Herman laughed at one point when I pointed out that I could finish this puzzle so much faster if he would just let me do it on my own. I guess that would defeat the purpose of our "mutually enjoyable" activity, wouldn't it? But seriously, I could not begin to fathom how he was going to finish this puzzle in the manner he was proceeding. But we worked it out. Despite our different tactics, Herman and I finished the job. Yay!

I think it is fascinating to see how different we approach things but how compatible we are as a couple. We sure do see problems differently when we approach them, but I think that each of us bring an element to the table that makes us more effective as a couple. Herman's enthusiasm and willingness to take risks is awesome, but he needs my ability to logically plan a course of action as well as my conservative side to balance out his aggressiveness when it comes to problem solving and planning for the future. And vice versa. This puzzle activity was such an example of those differences in our personalities, but you know what? We finished it. We found a way to work with each other to complete our task. And I think that that is one reason why our marriage works. I'm so grateful for it. I feel like we are both better individuals because of the strength we have when we are together. Even if Herman does do puzzles all wrong.

We've got more puzzles in line for future weeks. Maybe one of these days we'll figure out how to work together smoothly to finish them. And I'm holding on to that complicated 1000 piece one. Someday we'll be ready for it ... I have no doubts at all. 

Mission accomplished!

The Great Dilemma of Being Only One in a Crowd of Many

I have serious hair envy with Savannah. I LOVE her beautiful hair!

The blog posts are coming less frequently these days. The inspiration is there ... but the motivation is not. But hopefully I'll get back on track this week and be able to post a few a week. Epic changes are on the way for our family, and it would be good to keep a record of my thoughts in case someday someone will be interested in them.

Today I saw Savannah inducted into the National Honor Society. I know it is an honor to be inducted. I really do. I just don't get super enthusiastic about it as a parent. And these induction ceremonies are a terrible drag to attend. Maybe I would feel differently if my kids were super excited about them, but they don't even want to be there. I think we would all be happy if they just mailed us a nice certificate to frame. But I realize that not all parents are this way, and many love to see these big events, so I always make sure to suck it up, put on a smiley face, and show up to support my kids when the opportunity arises.

Today I got the chance to support Savannah. As far as induction ceremonies go, it was straight forward, exactly what you would expect ... talking, slideshow, talking, musical numbers, talking. Then it came time for the actual induction. There were about 75 kids from WHS who were being inducted today, and considering how many there were, the process took relatively little time. But as the group progressed through the line I got more and more worried. What would happen was that the student would hand a card to the announcer, and after their name was called they had to go and light a little candle before heading to the main part of the stage to prepare for reciting the National Honor Society pledge. Well, as each person's name was called, a group of parents/friends would yell out support for them. We've all been the ceremonies like this or graduations, so you know what I'm talking about. A name is called and ...

The crowd erupts ... well, at least some of them.

Here was my problem:

I'm not a crowd screamer. Well, let me clarify ... I will scream in a crowd ... IF I am surrounded by other people who are screaming. If not, I'm a quiet clapper. Super quiet. You could probably say that I don't clap; I just make the motions, warming the air around me infinitesimally. Polite to the extreme. Like so:

Normally this is not a big deal because I travel with my own private megaphone ... Herman. He can yell like no one else. I can spend a good portion of a football game hiding my head in my hoodie to avoid the looks the come our way when Herman is cheering for our team (but we do love him). At these ceremonies I depend on Herman to be our one man cheering squad, and he performs admirably. But today Herman was in Salem all day for a branch conference, and he was not going to be home in time to attend the ceremony, so I was going solo today. It was up to me to carry the cheering section. Yikes!

Well, as Savannah's row came to the stage each student's name was called, and it almost seemed as if the cheers were getting louder with each name. I was starting to sweat. Luckily, I knew that Savannah puts little stock in how big of a cheer she receives from a group. Still, I didn't want for there to be dead silence when her name was called. I prepared myself. I sucked in my gut. I puffed out my chest. I took a big breath. I visualized what a hearty David Tennant clap might look like ...

Savannah's name was called, and ...

A HUGE CHEER ERUPTED FROM THE AUDIENCE!!!!!

What the heck? Where did that come from? Who were these Savannah fans? 

It was awesome! I have no idea who cheered. Savannah had no idea who cheered. But it was pretty neat, nonetheless. Even though Savannah wasn't interested in getting a giant cheer, I know that it made her smile to think that someone out there was willing to put out some air power on her behalf.  I'm going to have to work on my crowd skills if I want to be prepared for the legion of Blau children (and grandchildren someday) who will be crossing stages across the country in recognition ceremonies. Hopefully Herman will always be there, but realistically I know that he won't always be able to be in town for all of those. For today, however, I am super grateful for a nameless, faceless group of people who picked up the slack and let out a roar for my Savannah. It made me happy to hear you!