Tag Archives: Life

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Just Like That… It is 2016

As if in denial, today I finally flipped the calendar over to January 2016. For those expecting me to be somewhere over the last 4 days and I wasn’t there, now you know why. I never looked at the calendar. Time keeps passing, as my Grandmother used to tell me it goes faster and faster and then one day it is as slow as a turtle.

Last year was a fun year for our family. Our oldest, a senior now, has been working a part time job for over a year now. He is drumming with several bands and lives in a room busting with drums, cymbals and a small corner which some may call a bed. And yes, he is a happy 17 year old in his element. We are anxiously waiting for college letters but his first choice is already IN so the pressure is off. I’m proud of that kid. He is an adult in so many ways and takes care of far more than many other kids his own age. He manages to take care of his brother and me anytime his dad isn’t with us. He steps in and as if by nature he fills whatever role is necessary. I’m finally getting used to looking UP to him in stature and he is showing us each day other reasons to look up to him. He is an incredible example for his brother and he is all that I wished for in a son. It seems like yesterday when I heard that sweet little nurse down the hall whisper “she’s pregnant” and now he is ready to fly away from our nest.

Our youngest is in his first year of middle school. He has adjusted well, although there were minor problems when the kid with whom he shares a locker kept accidentally butterflying their locker. That means locking it with the lock facing the wrong direction. With some detailed instructions from Hunter (and I will tell you with Hunter when he wants to tell you something he doesn’t just tell you in detail, he acts it out in detail) the locker situation has been fixed and he seems to be adjusting just fine. He is still playing baseball and loves every second on the field, in the backyard or in the batting cages. Johnny finally gave in to getting grass to grow in the front yard bare spots for the pitchers mound and the bases. It was a fight we would never win anyway. It is so fun to watch kids at this age as they begin to find what they enjoy. He loves his time with his friends and he loves his down time in his room with a good book. In so many ways he is the opposite of his brother and yes also, everything I wished for in a son. I am a lucky mom with the best of all the world.

Last year, as I looked into 2015, my hope was for a cure for epilepsy and seizures. We went to great lengths to find that. According to doctors we did not get the answers for which we went searching. Here is what I do know, my entire family and fellowship of friends will surround me with every anticipated need I have when the occasion arises. My mother will put aside her life for 9 days and take on mother/father to a tween and full fledged teenager at the drop of a hat. The house will stay clean, the kids will wear clean clothes, the dogs will stay fed and walked (bribing a 12 year old is legal in NC when you promise a car ride to school) and my family will eat much better than they ever have in their lifetime when we need it. My marriage can survive being locked in a 10×12 room, eating bland hospital food, with nothing but a lame cable network to pass the time for 9 days. Oh and not one time did he tell me I smelled bad which I KNOW I did after all that time hooked up to machines 24/7. My husband willingly became an expert on “Say Yes to the Dress” and I binge watched every episode of “Big Brother” in 2 days, yay Netflix. Thanks to some very special friends we had some hand selected meals brought to us along with good visits and some special treats delivered from family and friends from the UPS dude. He became a frequent visitor to our room and brightened each day.

I was determined that 2015 would be the year of my cure. The egomaniac doc on call insinuated the 9 day stay had been a waste of time because he didn’t find anything helpful. He was wrong. My cure is life.

What I found is that I can survive anything as long as I have my friends and family surrounding me with prayers and love in action. 2016 is my year for living fully with epilepsy. In just a few weeks I can drive again. Although with all these new roads I’m likely to get lost a lot, but I will crank up my music and enjoy the scenery as I attempt to find my way. I’m looking for a job. I want to love on people the way I loved on my Grandmother and the way others have loved on me. I have learned what fills my joy tank. I’m working on gaining confidence after being out of the working world for 8 years. I’m diligently finding time to spend with my son who is ready to leave our nest. I pray he is ready, confident and will be successful. He is ready to let his wings soar and I hope the world is ready for him!

My husband, my dedicated, committed, overall-wearing, yes we did just wrap plastic around our screen porch like our grandparents did…we celebrated 20 years of marriage this year. We had a week in Florida by ourselves for the first time since we got married! We made memories to last another 20 years…so you know who, can you mark us down for another week at your house in 20 years? He has held me when I cried, he has listened to me scream, he has encouraged me when I was in the depths and he has assured me that no matter how this or anything else changes me, he will never leave me. He cured every insecurity I may have. 2015 was a year of curing.

I emotionally look to this year with my son leaving but it does not escape me that I am blessed that our son will move on to college and we are here to see it. We lost some special friends and family this year, some of whom had a huge impact on our lives. They taught us to live in the moment, live without regret and take every opportunity that comes our way. They also taught us to give of ourselves what we can and indeed that is what I intend to do. Today is January 4, I think, and though it is way too quiet in my house, and I’m sitting at the window waiting for my son’s truck to come down the driveway, my life is so full of things I could never have imagined would be so over the top fantastic. Regardless of what the doc said, I found that for which I was looking. #livelifefullyn2016

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, January 2016

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Finding It

I am allowing myself to count, or at least I am telling you I am counting. I can see the end of this trial. I am no longer counting in weeks but I am counting in days. We have had so many countdowns going on around here with the end of EOGs, EOCs, exams, school, leaving for camp, Montreat, Justin’s 16th birthday and when Mom can drive. It has been hard to keep up with which countdown we are discussing! One thing is certain, my quiet house is suddenly full of voices and that makes me so happy.

I have had a LOT of time to digest the changes to our lives that epilepsy and brain injury brought me. Some days felt like forever. Justin had to get up at 5:25 for school. Yes, it is insane. Then round two starts at 6:45. Then it is just the dogs and me until 3pm. For several months I couldn’t work out and honestly I just slept most of the day. I was so drugged up playing with so many medications I didn’t know which end was up waiting until July felt like eternity. Mom was sick, I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t even grasp how she was because I couldn’t get to her and I was angry. I hated being dependent on people every time I needed to go anywhere. I felt so much pressure to have my act completely together anytime I asked anyone for anything because I knew I was already inconveniencing someone and I didn’t want to be any extra trouble.

You do not know what real freedom is until you don’t have it anymore. Truly, there were days, 3 or 4 in a row where I did not leave the house. Sure I walked the dogs. But days that I did not get in the car, did not have the need to, as Emmer would say “put myself together” and get out. I know how she felt those last years when she was stuck in her room in healthcare and she didn’t know what day it was. Were it not for the kids coming home at 3pm the beds wouldn’t have been made and I probably wouldn’t have showered. Everyday, by 3pm, the house was presentable and I was at least physically presentable. Some days were wonderful, some were normal, some were sad, some were dark and desperate. I had never faced the reality that I will live with epilepsy and seizures for the rest of my life. I always planned that we would control it with medicine and I wouldn’t have to worry with it. That is the most likely case, but I do need to be prepared for the possibility that may not happen. There is always the chance that I will have more seizures and be back in this same place again. Mentally I needed to swallow that big pill, along with another 5 or so. I have seen that I can do this. If I have a seizure tomorrow and the clock restarts we will all deal with what comes our way. Our Lord is ever faithful. He has shown me that, day in and day out. When I was on my knees in prayer and when I was on my knees in tears. He was, is and will be faithful.

The little things have meant so much. People have called and made time to take me to lunch. Those were days I really looked forward to. I got to put myself together! I have a couple of special friends that would drop notes in the mail every so often just to say hello and they were thinking of me. Those notes always arrived on days that I needed a little extra hug. To me, weekly rides for the kids were huge, but the people providing them say they were little so I’ll call them little. These little rides home from Chess Club, baseball practice and games, church, small group, drum lessons, play dates, sleepovers, I could go on and on. Several people have taken on my kids for this entire seven months and are transporting them where they need to be on a weekly basis. They show up without reminders and it means all the world to me. These adults willing to go out of their way mean our kids don’t have to sacrifice something they enjoy because of my health. As parents you all know what that means to us. These are the things I remember…quiet acts of kindness.

Getting moving again. This was a hard one. The doctor wouldn’t let me work out for some time after my seizures. Then she let me slowly begin walking and lifting weights on a modified routine. Anyone who has worked out on any level of intensity knows that you lose it very quickly. I had run a half marathon in mid November and my first seizure was Dec 2nd. By the time I was finally allowed to work out in March I was up more than a few pounds and down more than a few levels of strength and endurance. Frustrated to say the very least! I didn’t want to run with anyone because I was too slow. People at the gym were generous when my instructor told the class about my situation and I had many offers for rides to class. So I followed the rules with weights and began to see progress there. This running thing, this was a different beast. I had been walking so I thought I would be able to run without too much trouble. One stinking mile. Tears tears tears. I felt so pathetic. The road has been my go to for years now. It’s my zone and if ever I needed a zone it was now. If I can’t have running this is just not gonna work for me. I felt so defeated. For weeks I would try to go out and run. Sometimes I would manage a couple, maybe 3 miles, other days hardly 1. I would try consoling myself by saying at least I was doing it. I wasn’t consoled. I felt robbed. It would take me back to that angry place again, angry that this epilepsy had stolen something else from me. Then, in those moments He would speak to me, through the lyrics to music.

“I don’t know where to go from here. As long as I know that You are near. I’m done fighting. I’m finally letting go. I will trust in You. You’ve never failed before. I will trust in You. If there’s a road I should walk Help me find it. If I need to be still, Give me peace for the moment. Whatever Your will, Can you help me find it? I’m giving You fear and You give faith. I’m giving you doubt. You give me grace. For every step I’ve never been alone. Even when it hurts, You’ll have Your way. Even in the valley I will say, with every breath You’ve never let me go. I will wait for You. You’ve never failed before. I will wait for You.” By Sidewalk Prophets “Help Me Find It”

My “It”. I needed to swallow epilepsy and own it. I finally felt like I could say without so much embarrassment that I have epilepsy. I’m a Mom and I am at home with my family. And the rest is really none of your business. No I can’t really say that, but I can say it in my head until I think of something a little snazzier. I am proud of my family and I am fortunate and blessed to be with my children everyday! Now God knows I love the road and I believed He wanted me to have that freedom again.

My sweet niece in Colorado called me in early spring to tell me she wanted to run the Bolder Boulder. It’s a huge Memorial Day attraction founded by Olympian Frank Shorter in 1979. The race ends in the University of Colorado’s Folsom Field with the Finish Line on the big screen for added excitement! She told me she and her entire family were running the race together. This was my “It”! My mind was racing. I was not letting my brother and his whole family do this without me! I called my best friend, Sharon. She was the person who asked me to run a half marathon with her way back in 2005. I knew she wouldn’t turn me down. I asked her to fly to CO with me and run a 10K. I’m pretty sure she didn’t even ask me when it was before she said she would go. Next, Mom. Of course she would go. I called my brother and asked if he could make room for 3 more people that weekend. No problem! I had my goal and I had a couple of months to get ready for 6 miles. I hadn’t run more than 3 miles but I was certain I would be able to do this.

Fast forward to Memorial Day weekend. I had some really bad runs and one really good 4 mile getting ready for the race. I had some great workouts and one right before the race that I had to completely bail on where the people at the gym said I looked dazed and confused. That’s always reassuring. I was so anxious leading up to the race, it was ridiculous. I was afraid to be away from home. I have been home SO much that I’m actually uncomfortable leaving home now. That’s another issue I have to deal with too. Anyway, my prayer warriors were at work and I knew God is faithful. I knew He had not failed me. I knew I needed to step outside of my comfort zone in order to feel His power rain down on me.  Well, guess what? Elevation did not bother us, lack of training did not bother me. I smiled and then I cried like a baby after crossing the finish. I took it all in and looked to the heavens, feeling like I was just a little closer standing there at the base of the Flat Irons. I thanked God for His faithfulness before, during and now. I closed my eyes and the months flashed by and I felt the ground beneath me and I was so grateful for the road I had traveled to cross that finish line. I had given Him fear and doubt and He gave me faith and grace. For every step I was never alone. Indeed He helped me find It. I just needed to rekindle my love with Him.

That's me in the pink! I found my It at the Finish!

That’s me in the pink! I found my It at the Finish!

So officially it is only 34 days until I get the keys back. I feel like I need a refresher course to hit these crazy roads first. I also wonder where I will go? Isn’t that funny? All these months of being at home and learning to consolidate trips to now I wonder where I might need to go? Thank you for being part of this journey with me. For supporting me by reading my posts and giving my an outlet for the crazy thoughts that wonder around in my silly little mind. I hope I give you some laughs, some insight into life that is different from your own and maybe a little bit of something to chew on for another day.

© Gatewood Campbell, June 2014

 

 

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I Really Am Counting

If I am being totally honest, I have been mentally waiting for today, the halfway mark, so I can begin the downward ride on this rollercoaster. I have 3 months left until I gain my wings again. Every 3 or 4 nights I have this recurring dream that I take off in the car because I have forgotten that I’m not supposed to drive. Then every once in a while I have a dream that I get in the car to drive and I have forgotten how to drive. I also dream that I have forgotten how to get anywhere because I don’t pay attention to where I am going because I’m not driving.

Oh the dreams I have on these new meds. That is a whole Lifetime Series! They are crazy dreams, and they are so real that I confuse my dreams from reality. I wouldn’t even call it a circus. It’s more like being on steroids while riding on a raft flowing upstream with the Village People through an international bazaar in Arizona. Nothing really fits, if you get my point. Every morning it takes me about 30 minutes to come back to earth. But, the meds seem to be working. I haven’t had any major seizures. The physical side effects are minimal and I think I am coping okay with the mental side effects (Johnny is the real judge of that). I still have several more weeks until I am completely off the old and on the new and then it takes a few weeks of the new magic juice to really know if we have the winner, but all signs are good.

I’ve been home for 4 months now. It feels like a year has passed. I feel like I should have accomplished more than just laundry. My husband tells me it’s ok. I’m going with his vote. I’ve learned to navigate the bus system. I love the freedom that gives me. I don’t have to try to figure out multiple schedules or make a bunch of phone calls. The biggest change on this med is that I really have to break things down into very VERY simple terms. It gets difficult when things take more than 3 or so steps. Trying to arrange getting the kids somewhere for a specific time can be the most confusing activity for me. Getting myself a ride somewhere and figuring out where they are going too can do me in. If I can just hop on the bus and skip calling around and organizing rides, it is a breeze. I love that!

We are so fortunate to live in town, close to many things, close to friends and close to our family. People have been so gracious. We have several friends who give rides to the boys every single week to various things, and we are so thankful. The cars just show up and the kids just head out the door and it has become routine. These are gifts for which we will never be able to repay. Kudos to my Mom who takes me literally everywhere!

I’m doing okay. I love my God who gives me each day. I love my husband and my family and my dog. I love my friends and I’m thankful for the help we have had. We are truly blessed. I think God chose the strongest rib from Adam when He created Eve, because on whole, women are pretty strong and determined to get through whatever comes our way. Can I get an Amen?

Thank you for all of the love and support you have been to our family. It takes a village (not the Village People) to make this family operate and without your help it would be a circus! So, for now, looking forward to another successful 3 months! I will resume quietly counting.

© Copyright Gatewood Campbell, April 2014

 

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Learning to Loosen My Grip

We all do it. Don’t kid yourself. We want to control our lives. We want to be independent. We want to choose our ways, our days, our plans, our whatevers. While taking care of my Grandmother I listened to her talk about how frustrated she was about having to give up the way she liked things to be. I spent her last years helping her as best I could, among other things, make those things she could no longer do for herself as much like she would have done them herself. Some seemed so silly (who really irons cotton t-shirts?) but they were things that made her life feel normal and she too worked hard to continue normal life even when she was weak and frail.

She did not choose to be 98 and still living. In fact, and she would have been the first to tell you she would go to bed during many thunder storms and pray lightning would strike her, only to awaken disappointed in the morning. She would frown when the doctor would tell her nothing was wrong with her. What she did teach me was to learn to loosen my grip on independence and make the best of where you are. She woke up everyday, not always happy to wake up, many days wanting to stay in bed and cover her head with her covers, but she chose differently. She got up and she got dressed. Getting dressed included shoes and lipstick, always. Sometimes she wasn’t dressed until 2pm but she got dressed. And her bed was always made. Always. Except for one day, the week before she moved to healthcare and that was the week I knew for sure she had taken a turn and would be moving soon. After that she had round the clock help and bed was made every day, to her specifications, even if that meant it had to be made several times.

I am not here by my choice but I am following what my Grandmother taught me the best I can. Everyday I get up, make up the bed and I get dressed. I can’t say I always wear lipstick. Chapstick…maybe. I am trying my best not to be overcome by the fears that taunt me. I am trying my best not to be overcome by the embarrassment of having to ask for help or even worse the embarrassment of being turned down when I ask for help. I am trying my best not to be overcome by the embarrassment of having strangers stare. I am trying my best not to be overcome by confusion. I am trying my best not to be hard on myself. I am trying my best to learn to gently loosen my grip on my own independence and understand that it really never was mine to own anyway.

I am grateful for all of you that are being so patient with me while I try, because having been on the other side, I understand that it takes great effort from you as well. So, I thank you.

© Copyright Gatewood Campbell, March 2014

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The Four Letter F Word

F E A R. It can absolutely paralyze you. It has paralyzed me.

I know we should not fear. I know Jesus teaches us to live by faith. Everyone tells me not to be afraid. But it is so easy to tell someone not to be afraid. I’m afraid that a brief moment of confusion is an oncoming seizure. I’m afraid that the loud echo of a stereo is actually an oncoming seizure. I’m afraid that the persistent beeping of registers in a store is actually a sound being created in my head indicating a seizure. I’m afraid that if something catches my eye, there might not be anything there and my world is about to shake violently. I’m afraid that when things suddenly slow down they are about to speed up very quickly. I’m afraid of another concussion. I’m afraid that people will be afraid to be around me because they will fear I will have a seizure in front of them. I’m afraid of having a seizure in public. I’m afraid parents won’t want their kids to come play with my children because they fear I can’t adequately supervise them.  I’m afraid that maybe I can’t adequately supervise them. I’m afraid the seizures will never stop. I’m afraid of going to sleep one night and being taken by epilepsy.

I am trying so hard. I know I am fortunate. I know it could be so much worse. I know there are so many other people dealing with far worse situations. I know I should be focusing on the things that are good and not the things to fear. I know what Jesus has taught us to have faith and not to fear. I hear what each of you are telling me. I’m trying, I really am. But this F E A R, right now it is just paralyzing.

© Copyright Gatewood Campbell, February 2014