Sacrifices, Respect, Compassion

If this doesn't make you stop and think, you need to read Tom Brokhaw’s book, “The Greatest Generation”. We gather our families in our homes and cellphones come out after the meal. We don’t visit each other and Sundays in the foyer don’t count. Our military men and women are dying to keep us free while people are killing each other in America because they feel they don’t have what they deserve. BLM? I don’t care what color you are. ALL humans are important. ~ copied, but edited to share my heart.

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I talked with a man today, an 80+ year old man. I asked him if there was anything I could get him while the Corona virus was gripping America. He smiled, looked away and said, “Let me tell you what I need ... paused ... I need to believe, at some point, this country my generation fought for ...  paused ... I need to believe this nation we handed safely to our children and their children ...  paused ... I need to know this generation will quit being a bunch of sissies. That they respect what they've been given! That they've earned what others sacrificed for."

I wasn't sure where the conversation was going or if it was going anywhere at all. So, I sat there quietly, waiting. Listening.

"You know, I was a little boy during WWII. Those were scary days. We didn't know if we were going to be speaking English, German or Japanese by the end of the war. There was no certainty, no guarantees like Americans enjoy today.”

“And no home went without sacrifice or loss. Every house, up and down every street, had someone in harm's way. Maybe their Daddy was a soldier, maybe their son was a sailor, maybe it was an uncle. Sometimes it was the whole damn family - fathers, sons, and uncles.”

“Having someone you love, sent off to war . . . it wasn't less frightening than it is today. It was scary as Hell. If anything, it was more frightening. We didn't have battlefront news. Didn’t have email or cellphones. You sent them off and you hoped and you prayed. May not hear from them for months. Sometimes a mother was getting her son's letters the same day Dad was comforting her over his death.”

“And we sacrificed. You couldn't buy things. Everything was rationed. Families were allowed so much milk per month, so much bread, toilet paper. EVERYTHING was restricted for the war effort. And what you weren't using, what you didn't need, things you threw away, they were saved and sorted for the war effort. My generation was the original recycling movement in America.”

“We had viruses back then, serious viruses. Polio, measles, and such. It was nothing to walk to school and pass a house or two that was quarantined. We didn't shut down our schools. We didn't shut down our churches and cities. We carried on, without masks, without hand sanitizer. And you know what? We persevered. We overcame. We didn't attack our President, we came together. We rallied around the flag for the war. Thick or thin, we were in it to win. We would lose more boys in an hour of combat than we lose in entire wars today."

He looked away again. Maybe, I saw a tear in the corner of his eye. He continued, “Today's young people don't know sacrifice. They think sacrifice is not having the latest phone or new clothes every season. They don’t respect old people. In my generation, we looked out for our elders. We helped out with single moms whose husbands were either at war or dead from the war.”

“It's shameful the way many parents spoil their children. Children NEED shelter, basic clothing, medical care, a basic education and food. Anything else is a ‘WANT’ they should work to earn. It’ll teach them to behave with respect and appreciation. So, no, I don't need anything. I appreciate your offer but, I know I've been through worse things than this virus.”

“But, maybe I should be asking you, ‘what can I do to help you’? Do you have enough soda to get through this? Enough steak? Will you be able to survive with 113+ channels on your TV?"

I smiled, fighting back a tear of my own . . . humbled by a man in his 80's. All I could do was thank him for the history lesson, leave my number for any emergency and leave with my ego firmly deflated.

I talked to a man today. A real man. An American man from an era long gone and forgotten. We will never understand the sacrifices. We will never fully earn their sacrifices. But we should work harder to learn about them, learn from them, respect them.

Satan Creates Chaos, God Is the Finisher

The morning of April 6 was heavy with dew and dawn was waking up. My beloved sat up on the edge of our bed, saying he needed to visit the bathroom. A few minutes later I thought he actually pulled a cabinet off the wall! Rushing in, I almost stumbled over him, crouched on knees and arms. Asking quickly what happened, I noticed he wasn't looking at me, nor responding. Asking if he was hurt, he turned slightly and said something but it was slurred and I had no idea what he said. I admit I thought he was teasing me and threatened to call 911 if he didn't get up and talk to me. When he didn't I ran to my phone, dialing as I got back to him. While talking to the dispatcher, I watched in pure amazement as large bubbles of water popped out, from every pore on his back. Starting at the top and going clear to the waistband of his underwear, it appeared someone was typing rows and rows of water bubbles. Touching it, I told the dispatcher he was non-responsive and was now covered in a cold sweat. She assured me the EMS team were already on their way.

I left Johnny, ran to the front door, unlocked it, noting that a fire truck and an EMS truck were parked with lights flashing and two men were loping across our yard. I led them to Johnny, explaining what had occurred. Once they got to the bathroom, I backed up to our bed, watching. The man I termed to be a leader began asking me questions about Johnny's current state of health, any issues, etc while I watched the opposite man sticking Johnny's finger. He reported blood sugar was fine and began taking his blood pressure. I then heard him say, very low and quietly, "BP is extremely low". He began hooking John to an EKG machine, which immediately sounded like fireworks. At this time, I noticed there were two men with a cot standing in our room. When had they come in?! The 'leader' stood up, pulled me back away from the bathroom, told the three men, "Get him up. We've got to go!" He took me by the shoulders and said gently, "Mrs. Hood, your husband is having a heart attack. We are going to Baptist South. You cannot go with us but you can follow us. Do you have someone you can call?" I nodded, he turned and I realized Johnny was gone. By the time I found my phone, and called a daughter, I realized I'd been holding my breath and this wasn't a dream.

For those of you that have experienced this, my prayers are with you. Johnny's always been the picture of health. However, the last few years of retirement we both have not lived what I now know as a 'heart healthy life'. We ate what we wanted, sleep when and as long as we wanted and exercise? What's that?! Sound familiar?

By the time we got to the hospital and parked - couldn't go in due to the COVID-19 virus rules - Johnny was already in surgery. His LAD (large artery behind the heart) was occluded and a stent was placed after cleaning the artery. There was a "troublesome area" in front of his heart but it was decided to let his body rest in CVCU overnight and Tuesday before tackling the large artery in front of his heart. Wednesday morning found our youngest daughter and me parked once more in the parking lot waiting on a phone call. It came with good news, praise God. A stent had been placed after cleaning the artery and a smaller artery had been cleaned and a stent placed there as well. He was resting and "should go home Friday". With a prayer of thanksgiving we headed home, where I had another 'ugly' cry. This time I was relieved but saddened that I could not be with him.

Picking him up to go home, he looked just as he had the day before our world shifted. Color was good, and he was happy to be going home. I began listening to everything a daughter, an RN, told me what to expect and what we needed to do to avoid another attack. I also hit Google and read everything I could from the Mayo Clinic and the American Heart Association. Where I had felt overwhelmed while he was gone, I now feel a sense of calm and peace. It is going to be a good change for both of us and he has the prayers of family and friends. I'll always be grateful. It wasn't Johnny's time to leave his earthly body that early Monday morning.

He is recovering well, slowly but well. As John Denver said in a song, "Some days are diamonds, some days are gold". And that's about how it goes. Each day is a step forward, though some days are filled with more sleep and sometimes he's a bit edgy and irritable. All things I was warned of, as his body heals itself. I told him today April had become an 'almost' unfavorite month for me. April 6, his massive heart attack and April 21, my 77 Day Sleep Anniversary. However, it's also the birthday month of my twin brothers and a daughter, so it's a good month. We all are able to celebrate together. Well, maybe next year when COVID-19 has been put to bed!

God is good. Always. Had Johnny not recovered, I realized while he was in the hospital, that there were still so many blessings and I had so much to be thankful for. He's always near and I truly felt His comfort and peace, even drying my eyes after crying, I remembered His Word that tells us He bottles our tears. Can you imagine how awesome that is?!

Now? We take it one day at a time. We are eating a heart healthy diet and though, because of COVID, he cannot begin Cardiac Rehab, he will once they open again. For now, he makes laps slowly around the inside of our home. He has more good days than blah days and being able to see our grands that live here in town has been a huge blessing. He gets to FaceTime our oldest babygirl and her family, our middle daughter comes when she can, and our youngest lives here and has been so good to pick up groceries and medications for us. We are truly blessed.

But you know? I was still kind of glad to wake up and today is May 1! A brand new month. This year, Jan-April has held it's own heartbreak each month so I'm praying the rest of this year is filled with better health, a lot of laughter and even more love than before.

Have a nice evening and sleep well, sweet Readers. God be with you and yours~

Short Sleeves, Then Coats!

That's the South for you!

Especially the Central Southern part.

Blech!

Yes! I love rainy days!

And I'd love snow before Spring,

but don't think that's going to happen.

We hit the 50's and 60's on too many days.

But my dream would be below!

I have always loved cardinals.

Especially during Winter.

How's your Winter been?!