Uhhhhh...

Twice today I had parental fumbles. Fumbling is not unusual, but it steams me when it could have been prevented. The kids are old enough to catch me bumbling with "Errrr, uhhhh, umm" and then they have the audacity to laugh. Laughing at wise mommy...the nerve!

When I picked the guys up from art class, I was informed that a 'big kid' had made some nasty comments about Ella's hand. I then got some details on exactly what happened from Eli. He is the informant of the family, but confuses his details and Everett generally ends up talking over Eli with the truth. I was buckling everyone into the van when Eli said, "This big kid, he's like 10 or something, said Holy Cow to Ella's hand. Then he said it was a freaky hand and Ms. T had to get him in trouble."

Sigh. I could have filed away a perfect speech for this. In my free time I should start coming up with answers to questions that I can't shouldn't respond to on the fly. The following is the perfect example of what happens when I try to think while buckling...

"WHAT IN THE WORLD? Well...hmmm, that wasn't very nice of him, was it?" Ella was welling up with tears looking at me during Eli's rehearsal of the dialogue.

"Okay, you know what I think...I think that kid is a...big dumb dumb. I mean it. I think...well, I think he's stupid. Yeah, he's stupid." Now, I'm holding Ella's chin and looking in her eyes (and I've forgotten what a tried and true 'good' mom would do). "You listen to me, when some nasty kid says something ugly like that to you, if I'm not around to remind you, you just think, 'My mom tells me you are stupid.' Say it with me. He's stupid. He's stupid. He's a stupid boy to say something so mean. Honestly, God made all of us different, just look around our van! It's sad that that boy isn't bright enough to see that God made each of us special and it's wonderful that he made you different than everyone else. He has a reason for each of us to be the way we are. So I'm telling you to think it to yourself, 'Well, my mom thinks you are stupid.' "

Yeah, the only thing is...I don't let my kids says things like stupid and dumb. I'm also thinking there might be some fist fights later on when my little girl VERBALLY passes on my "stupid" comment. Good thing she has three brothers.

Then in the van that night, Eli asked how babies got out of their mommy's bellies. Always trying to put off the inevitable, Seth told him that it was just a little too late at night to start that discussion. That prompted a line of questioning until Seth told him that women have an invisible zipper inside their stomachs that only babies can operate.

I'm thinking that this is probably not a good solution. I leaned over and said that maybe he should give them a better answer--like the truth. He gawked. Then Everett said, "No, really, how do they get out of there? Do they burst out, what happens?" We just realized (we are really slow) that Everett hears everything we say when we are in the van.

So I told them. I told them the absolute truth. Ella and Sally were stuck on udders and milk and cows so the conversation quickly turned to 'why don't horses have udders'. Thankfully. Since I was getting a little...ahem...flustered. They now have heard the truth. Not the whole truth. I will try to remember to tell them that they cannot share this new found knowledge with the general populace at church. I'll probably forget though, so if my kids hang out with your kids, you might just want to go ahead and have 'that discussion'. Not the whole discussion! Please, spare me those questions! I need another 10 years to think about what to say. Or I can hand it over to Seth, "There's this stork..."

This post is just to let you all know that our house isn't all emotional chaos and medical novelties.

The big boys taught encouraged the littlest boy to take on a new challenge. You can only imagine what it may be. I'll just say that they told me my mom tried her hardest to keep Josiah from exhibiting his skills at the table. She was unsuccessful in deterring him. Why would he quit doing something that brings gales of laughter from his biggest fans?

I took pictures of him DURING LUNCH. I thought I would post a few, but Seth laughed so hard when he saw them he told me to put them into a slide show complete with soundtrack. This video will reveal that my dear husband is indeed a HUGE nerd, because he came up with the "perfect" music all on his own. I'm proud to say that I've never actually seen a 2001 space odyssey anything.

Travelers

This week families from our agency left to pick up their kids. Some of these kids we met while in Ethiopia. It's so exciting to watch them 'come home'. Here are the sites: Redferns, Schmidts, Lusse, and VanWettens.

There are going to be a flood of families traveling in the next month. Courts in Ethiopia closed from August to October. Once they re-opened, families could pass court and travel about two weeks later.

Sally's Update

We had Sally's first visit with her doctor last night. We brought all of the kiddos because the local paper wants to do an article on Sally's surgery, our family, etc--since we are so interesting (read-crazy). I'm more than happy to talk about how the Lord has blessed us and provided for our family, especially Sally's miraculous surgery and recovery. We met the journalist and had a wonderful conversation with her before seeing Sally's x-rays. She got rave reviews from her doctor. Everything is still in place and looks fantastic. The second best bit of news was that we won't need to see him again until she's re-casted. Not that we don't like her doctor, but hauling five children to the office is cumbersome.


I'm about to show you the coolest thing--her old MRIs. I guess that sentence just gave me away as a huge nerd (you have to say that in robot voice to really savor it). It's too bad I didn't have these copies earlier, as maybe it would help you to see what was going on in her back. I should have tried to get a copy of the x-rays they did last night, being able to see the rods and rib in place would probably help too. I'm a visual learner (and a huge nerd).


Well, there's a cliff hanger if I ever left one. My scanner is off and I'm too lazy or tired or both to clear off the stack of children's artwork from the top to turn it on. I'll scan the copies in the morning. I will be well rested and chipper. Since that happens one day out of seven.

Okay, I'm a little late, but here are the scans:

The first is my fav, you can see basically her brain to her bottom. It's from June. The light gray area in front of her bump is the infection. You can see the deteriorated bones between the abcess and her spinal cord.

This one is from September, right before surgery. It's a closer view, shows the same as above, just more damage done. Again, the gray area is the infection, you can see it's eaten up her bones and is right up against her spinal cord.

The Saga Continues

At 3:30 in the morning Seth and I woke up. Errr, we were already awake because Josiah had been fussing for a long time. He was finally quiet and perhaps (though at the time I dared not think it) even asleep when we heard thumping coming from downstairs. Thumping never exudes comfort, especially in the wee hours of the morning. Seth, in his courageous state, went to investigate. I tried to keep my eyes open in the off chance that he needed some aid in throwing out whomever was thumping their way into our house.

It took a while for him to return to bed, but at some point I heard a toilet flush and knew all must be well. Intruders won't usually take the time to use the facilities while breaking in, right?

He was laughing. The thump, thump, thump was Ella hopping on one leg (remember, she's got a prosthesis that she doesn't sleep in) to the bathroom. He heard the toilet running and glanced into her room. She was wide awake staring at him. When he got up to her bed he asked if she was okay. She just stared. Can't imagine why, except...maybe...she still had food in her mouth?

He said, "Can you talk to me?" She shook her head in the negative.

My friend told me we should contact Guiness about this. I'm inclined to agree. I can see the title: World's most stubborn little girl manages to hold food in her mouth for a record breaking nine hours.

The morning went well, Ella woke up eager to eat. Unfortunately, during breakfast I noticed vomit all over the back of her jammies. Upon removing them, I noticed it in her hair. She politely informed me that she did throw up in her bed. Like its no big deal to puke and then lay in it. Dear me.

After two showers--TWO showers since the first one didn't remove all of the unconsumed pasta--life seems back to status quo until lunch.

What's a Mom to do?

I just put my daughter to bed. Her cheeks were filled with lasagna. And her epilepsy medication. It gets even better. She had eaten that lasagna almost 2 hours ago. I think I smelled vomit, but it was just her and the lasagna...digesting in her mouth. I couldn't bear to kiss her cheek so I did something I would never picture myself doing. I blew her a kiss and waved goodnight...from a pretty good distance.

What is this madness?

This is Ella four years after leaving a Ukrainian orphanage. Still dealing with 'food issues'. When we brought that cute two year old home we never expected to hear the doctor tell us that she was "failing to thrive" after three months with us. I expected more obvious behaviors--hoarding, rocking, night terrors, but got none of those. I suppose we should have been happy that our daughter wasn't struggling with other things. Instead, she was voluntarily starving herself to have control over some facet of her seemingly out of control life. We pleaded, coerced, and tried to force her to eat. We tried all kinds of foods to no avail. We couldn't tempt her with anything. I finally started feeding her half and half mixed with pediasure powder. She drank constantly and this was one way to give her some calories.

I don't remember when Ella started eating, but it happened. It's never been quite 'right' though. I always thought that at some point everything would just click for our daughter. One day, she would wake up and shake off the orphanage dust. Sadly, the survival skills that she learned as a toddler have stuck. As time passes, the behaviors don't rear their heads too often--nothing like those first few months at home. But every once in a while, subliminally, Ella reverts back. And watch out, because life is about to get pretty ugly.

Last week, Ella wouldn't eat her lunch. It was the usual fare, stuff she always eats. I put it away and told her she could have it for dinner. Then, I sent her to her room for a while. That seemed to be what she needed and she happily ate her dinner. A few days later the same thing happened. But, all was still well...until Sunday. She decided to pull out the big guns, by refusing lunch and dinner. Then this morning, she didn't eat breakfast. She didn't eat lunch. She finally ate dinner (it was passable to us--three bites of lasanga). Our policy is to just ignore her. We let her know that if she doesn't eat, she can miss out on the fun thing we will be doing after the meal. Very nonchantly and calm. Always calm, always cool, always scoring a point for the parents. Sometimes, Seth and I even meet for little sessions in the bathroom to figure out our next game plan. I'm serious.

Yeah, didn't work so well this time. Sunday, we figured out that we needed to turn up the heat a bit. I turned a MOVIE on after lunch yesterday and she still wouldn't eat. She lives for TV time. This was a serious anty upping on our part. She wouldn't budge. Seth popped popcorn. Still no dice. Fine, just sit on your bed and be hungry. It got a little more serious today when she started holding food in her mouth. She took one bite at breakfast and just refused to swallow. This may sound bizarre to you, but we've been seeing it around here for, oh, about four years. The I'll-take-a-bite-but-you-can't-make-me-swallow routine. She's obviously got some skills since she ate lasagna for dinner and managed to hold it in her mouth until bedtime. Seth thought that was a record breaker, but I can't wait to call him in the morning and let him know that she woke up with a mouthful of lasagna.

Why is she doing this? Great question, if you have the answer please contact me immediately. My first response is that she wants attention. She doesn't care what kind of attention she gets (we learned this early on), so even negative attention will do if she feels like she's missing out. My second guess is because we were gone at the hospital, life is out of control, yada, yada. That doesn't jive with her waiting two weeks before starting this nonsense. So, I'm thinking it's got to be attention. Which is why Seth and I have to pump ourselves up not to give her attention for this mess. And we chastise ourselves for not seeing sooner that maybe she was feeling left out. She gives us no warnings that she's about to burst. It would have been nice for her to pull me aside last week and say, "Mommy, I'm feeling a little weird about Sally being hurt. I want some special attention like she's getting."

Too bad I don't let her watch Dr. Phil or maybe that would have happened. Except I've never heard her string together that many words at one time. Sigh. Tomorrow is a new day. I have high aspirations for that bowl of cheerios.

Recouperating

A week has passed and I didn't even notice. Sally seems to be almost completely back to herself. She's still getting a dose of medication every six hours. She's pleading to ride her bike and go back to church. She still spends part of her day laying on the floor. She drags a quilt around the house and flops down on it when the mood strikes her. Since that won't fly in Sunday School, she's still staying at home on Sundays.

We have had a week of 'normal.' Normal for us may not seem normal for you. We had school at home every morning, went to art lessons, went to the park, and took many, many walks. The madness of our daily lives was delightfully...mundane. Blissful, even.

Josiah's One!

Today our baby turned one. Everett spent most of the day telling him he's too old for...whining, crying, crawling, bottles, etc. With all of the surgery drama I had set myself up for being in the hospital today. I decided that we wouldn't *tell* Josiah that his first birthday was celebrated a week or more later. He had the best gift we could hope for--our family all present as he celebrated his first year. It was nothing fabulous by traditional standards--we will do the hyped up celebration later with extended family. Here's a clip of Josiah on his first birthday...just started walking in the past few days, thinking he's the only reason anyone ever laughs, and generally the most spoiled kid around. We adore this baby...is he still a baby?

Disclaimer: If you are in a public place you may want to do a little volume control. By most standards our house is LOUD. We sing in this clip. I mean, we scream in this clip. Josiah joins in and it gets obnoxious. Also, I had more control over the candle than the video portrays (that's for our social worker, just in case she's watching).

Pictures from the week

I took pictures all week long. Some for Sally, some for our kids at home (I didn't want them to come into ICU and freak out). You've READ about the past week, but pictures are always a nice balance. I'll put them in here chronologically...

Happy and clueless before surgery. She's pretty pumped about the 'fancy duds' we are wearing. The hospital's program allows one parent back in the OR but you've got to be dressed appropriately.

This is what Sally looked like when we got to her in the ICU. I took this and sent it home with my mom so she could let the kids see Sally. We weren't sure if they would be okay visiting her the next day, but they were. She said when Eli woke up on Friday the first thing he said was, "Did you bring a picture of Sally home last night?"

Our first glimpse of a smile. This was the "retake" after she saw her frowning face in another photo. She's without ventilator and various tubes by this point.

Feeling good enough to wear her handmade hospital gown. She got so many compliments on her assorted hospital garb and everyone LOVED her quilt (that's for you, Grandma).
In a moment of drug induced stupor Sally needed Dora to cuddle with her. That's a gigantic Dora balloon, by the way.
First meal in three days. Chicken broth, delightful.
I was a proud mama. All of the children were so brave. They are so little, but came to the hospital and absolutely tried their best to cheer their little sister up. They clamored for her attention and did silly things to make her smile. She adored their brief visits.
My three sisters came through with the one gift I tried to find for Sally before surgery--a Maisy doll. She came in the mail and was delivered by the three kids (who gave all credit to the Aunts). Sally was beside herself (well, as joyful as you can be while in pain and under the influence of drugs).
Seth took this picture because...it's funny. Really, when the nurse brought these diapers in we couldn't stop laughing. I think they are a men's large. Obviously, they didn't work very well. Every nurse that came in had heard about our "explosion". She's in her turtle shell, this is before her permanent casting.
Yesterday in the playroom. Her first time walking since surgery. I couldn't believe that we were even trying it! Thrilled beyond belief, she wanted me to call 'the guys' so they could come and meet her in the playroom.

We are home!

Yesterday, Sally walked down the hallway to the play room. That was our last step to get sent home. Her doctor couldn't believe that he was letting us leave, but we got home yesterday afternoon. The past week has been a blur, but an amazing experience in seeing God answer the prayers of so many people.

In a moment of quiet last night before bed, I told Seth that I couldn't believe this week was over. The past month I've felt like this would be such a traumatic experience it would be 'The Event'. All other hardships would be compared to this and probably fall short. I honestly thought we would have weeks, if not longer, in the hospital. Followed by months of recovery at home.

Seth looked at me and said, "I thought she was going to die."

Sitting on the other side of that, realizing we are back to normalcy. I'm baffled. I'm thankful. I'm ready to cry at any moment. I'm praising God.

Thank you so much for encouraging us. Thank you for being the prayer warriors when I was falling short. For waking up at odd hours and talking to God about Sally when quite possibly that was the moment she was crying out in pain. I can't thank you enough!

Day 6: Out of ICU! Home soon?

We moved late last night from ICU into a regular room. This was a nice step in the right direction. The criteria for her release today was for her to walk and continue to eat and drink; she's done all three so far today. She walked around in the play room and played and painted for a while, then she walked all the way back to the room (a couple hundred yards). So, it looks like we're on target to leave sometime today!

Ortho doctor stopped by to check out his handiwork on Sally's cast. He compared her x-rays after casting to the x-rays immediately after surgery and said they are exactly the same. So, even after all of her rolling, moving, and attempts to dislodge the grafted rib, everything is perfectly in place. She's a little uncomfortable because of how tight her cast is, the belly hole is a little window compared to her last cast. If she complains too much we'll call the 'Cast Man' and he can cut it up some. As he was leaving, the doctor said, "She has done amazing. Usually these kids are in here for a few weeks."

Huh?! We expected about a week, if all went well. I guess usually kids don't do quite as well as her. The PICU nurses were calling her a superstar. She's an amazing, resilient little girl, BUT she has a Father in heaven who works in miraculous ways and we give him all credit and glory for her experience this week. I'm still in awe.

ICU Day 5

We had a good night last night. Sally is stuck in ICU until we can get her pain under control. Last night was the first time that she wasn't crying every hour or two. This morning, we were told that she was having her casting early. It worked out well because she had just had a dose of Tylenol and was "chipper" as we rolled her downstairs to the cast room.

We aren't sure what will happen today after she is in this cast. As far as we know, she will be in ICU for today. We are hopeful that she will be admitted to the regular floor today with plans to leave Thursday.

UPDATE--Sally is in the cast (from chin to hip) and still on target to leave tomorrow or Thursday. I know I'm feeling good about her complete encasement in plaster, but she seems a little 'miffed' about it. No more slipping out of her protective shell at 2 am...

The doc found a fabulous product for her--gortex pantaloons. I snicker at the name, but am overjoyed that she won't soak the cast with urine...today. Next week--maybe, but today the gortex is there protecting it from stinkiness. She will be in a cast for three months, getting it changed out after six weeks.

Right now she's sitting up coloring for the first time since we got here. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude to God for seeing her through this with such an amazing outcome.

ICU- day 4

Last night was beautiful. The upped meds yesterday (and Tylenol by mouth) made an amazing difference in Sally's disposition. Seth went home yesterday to take care of the kids. Sally drifted off most of the day, but when she was awake she was pleasant. We actually had a full conversation for the first time in days:
"Mommy, Rara has earrings. I want earrings, too."
"Maybe when you have your birthday. Then you can be sure you really want them. Ella doesn't want them because it hurts at first."
"For my happy birthday I want them. I want a ring like yours, too." Riiiiight. I feel bad about all this mess, but I'm not about to buy you an engagement ring, dearie.

This morning we eagerly waited for the general surgeon to come in and check out the drainage from Sally's chest tube. When he came in, the PA with him said, "How do you say her name?" He looked over and said, "Haven't you ever read the Bible?" Seth laughed long and hard about that, since Salome (we messed with the spelling to aid pronunciation) is only in there twice.

The surgeon said that she hadn't had hardly anything drain during the night and we could proceed with removing it. Plans for that and casting were made until our ortho doc came in and said he was afraid to put her in a permanent cast since she may...ahem...foul it up. She had a *little* explosive action last night in the diaper she was wearing. It took three of us to get everything cleaned up. Needless to say, putting her into something permanent while she's struggling to get onto the potty is probably a bad idea. So we will wait until tomorrow.

While he was here, he decided to just get rid of the chest tube and central line (stack of IVs coming from her neck). Quite a bit of drama and hysterics involved in that little operation, but we are one step closer to leaving ICU. He said that we should leave the hospital on Wednesday!

ICU day 3

Can it be? Today we are halfway through our hospital stay. We hope. Last night was the worst yet. Sally's developed a tolerance for her pain medications and wasn't on oral medications yet (which last longer). She spent a good part of the night moaning, crying, and chanting something in a language I couldn't understand. I told the nurse she was singing an Ethiopian mourning song and he thought I was serious. Nevertheless, she was upset, we were upset and there wasn't a thing we could do. She wanted to move, move, move and finally moved herself out of her splint to the point of screaming with discomfort. Neither the nurse nor I (in my cognizant state) could understand right away what she was so upset about. Once we saw what had happened I almost lost it. I keep picturing these precariously positioned ribs getting jarred by a false move. We managed to safely manuever her into the splint and she fell asleep.

She got rid of all tubing from her nose yesterday (joy, joy!). Today, she starts eating again. After last night, the doc has started her on codiene by mouth in addition to the IV meds. She took that (with much pleading and prodding) and then had a popsicle. Life is good. She's been waiting for popsicles since Thursday. We haven't heard nary a moan for at least 2 hours. Where was the peace last night?

Still waiting on the chest tube to come out tomorrow (if she keeps up with her great progess) then we can get out of ICU. Not that I'm terribly anxious to get out of here. We've scored the biggest room. We have extra beds so Seth and I can stay in the room all night. The big kids have come by daily to visit with Sally and it's uplifted her spirits to see them. She's trying really hard and so are they. The child life specialists have an activity room and library for the hospitalized kids and siblings. We take turns with one or two kids in ICU while someone else plays in the activity room. That has been a blessing. I probably wouldn't get to see the kids at all if we didn't have that room. They can only sit in a hospital room for so long before anxiety kicks in. Josiah, for obvious reasons, has only been in for a few minutes to see Sally. I took a picture of Sally yesterday with Ella, when she looked at it she made me take another so she could smile. It looks like a grimace, but I'll post it when I get a chance.

ICU doc just visited. She's "doing beautifully". I'm trying not to think about the 'what might have been' and just thank God for what is right now.

ICU-day 2

Sally had a rough night. She's (medically) doing phenomenal, but she's started to get very uncomfortable. She's lucid long enough to start welling up with tears. If she gets to that point the nurse gives her a boost of sedative to calm her down. She's got a continuous drip of pain relief, but sometimes it isn't enough. Last night, Seth took the early shift (until 4 am) while I slept then we switched. Sally slept most of the night, but woke up at least once an hour to ask us to move her. She has this idea that if she can just wiggle off to one side of the bed then she will find relief. So one of us has to be awake to answer her and then grab a nurse to help us roll her to one side.


Today we hope that she can get rid of all tubes coming from her nose (it's good to have goals, especially in the hospital). If she can hold down her stomach juices, then they will take out the stomach tube. It looks like she'll lose a tube a day. Hoping to be out of ICU on Monday.


Here are some pictures from the visit yesterday...





Thank you for your prayers, visits, and emails! Sally has been 'pleased' to hear about everyone praying for her.

Intensive Care-day 1

7:30 am Last night, the doctor pulled Sally off of the paralyzing drugs that she's on and she moved her feet on command! She's doing amazing, breathing with the ventilator and moving her hands and feet. She should be weaned off the ventilator today. Right now she's waking up more often. She's unhappy for obvious reasons. Her hands are tied down and she has tubes everywhere. Her worst enemy is the respiratory therapist who came every hour during the night to suck mucous out of her lungs. Sally would startle awake and thrash her hands during the procedure (that lasts just a few seconds). She is trying to talk to us, but can't. I can't imagine her anger with this since she's the nonstop chatterbox of our house (if you know the other kids this should mean a lot to you). Once the breathing tube comes out she should at least be able to express her anger verbally.

Personally, I was up all night. The nurses came in once an hour to fiddle with her. I jumped out of the chair and ran to Sally every time--that sleepless, middle of the night, stupor that makes you act wild. Seth slept in the room with us. I'll repeat that, he slept. At 5:30 I couldn't bear laying there any longer. I stood next to Sally's bed and lost it. I've held it in for so long. Once I let myself feel relieved about surgery and how well she's doing, I couldn't stop myself from weeping. I'm in a place I never imagined I'd be. I was overwhelmed with thankfulness for God's care and just cried. I was crying, thanking God for all of you who were praying for our daughter yesterday. I was crying because she's been such a trooper and I'm terrified of what today holds for her. Then, Sally woke up. With clarity, she looked right at me.

I couldn't stop myself and couldn't talk. I was caught by her doing the one thing that I wasn't allowed to do with her watching--bawling my eyes out. Seth came over (chiding me) while I tried to compose myself (which didn't happen). Finally, I gave up on sucking in the tears and hoped she wouldn't notice. She was visibly upset and so I started telling her about the people who are praying for her, grandparents that are going to visit, and then I said, "Maybe the guys (that's what she calls the three big sibs) can come and see you today. Do you want them to come here?"

A glorious thing happened, she looked at me and gave me the 'Ethiopian nod'. I didn't think she was even listening to me. She's mad, confused, and hurting, but she's still sweet, strong, Sally.

Thank you for your prayers and wonderful comments (if you haven't left one for Sally go visit the "For Sally" post). You have all been a blessing to us; I'll continue to update as Sally makes progress.

2:30 Sally's been off the ventilator for several hours now. Then she was on O2 for a couple of hours but is off that now as well. She is breathing well, but is still quite uncomfortable. She's making tremendous progress; she's able to talk to us and let us know what she needs and how she's feeling. The rest of the kids and grandparents were able to come and visit with her for a couple of hours, take advantage of the local attractions (foos ball, air hockey, library...) and enjoy a delicious trip to the cafeteria.

We should be in ICU for a few days until her chest tube is removed. We (and the staff) are amazed at her progress--truly answered prayers. Thank God for her quick recovery this far. Please continue to pray for her as she is in pain and being weaned from the 'strong stuff' that has kept her sleeping until now.

Surgery Day

7:30 Sally and Apryl go back to the operating room. Sally gets freaked out in the OR because of all the commotion. She calms down a little and soon passes out.

8:45 Nurse called to say that surgery has begun. It took a while for anesthesia to put in various IVs and get her prepared.

9:30 Our favorite ortho nurse stopped by to let us know that Sally's rib is out and they now have access to her back. She said that she is doing well and they will let us know as progress is made with cleaning out the abscess.

11:20 Doctor just updated us. He's done with the first part of surgery! This is an answer to prayer!! He said the infection was contained and easy to clean out. Once they opened her up, her tissue was healthy and free of infection. They cleaned the infectious mass out and then removed the vertebrae that were affected. The rib that they removed was long enough for him to cut in half and use both pieces for support. He left one piece connected to the blood supply (it will grow) and anchored both pieces to the healthy vertebrae on top and bottom. Her nerve function is great, and the general surgeon is closing her up right now. He will begin the rod implants shortly and expects that to last for three hours.

12:45 The Doctor called the waiting area and said they have started the second half of the surgery (ie. rod implants). We thought we were already on our way with this, but it took a little longer to get her closed up. Now begins the last three hours of waiting.

3:15 Another update...the surgery is still underway and is still going well!

4:00 Rod implant surgery is over! They are closing her up. The doctor will be out with a report soon.

5:30 Doctor is here--Sally is on her way to ICU. She is doing absolutely wonderful!! Praise God, she's got FULL nerve function, and never even had any blips on the monitor. She lost only 400cc of blood and didn't need a transfusion (he said that is well below average blood loss during the surgery, we were expecting transfusions). The rods are placed, he added bone growth 'helper' to her vertebral column (the 'gutters' along the rods). Her ribs stayed perfectly in place during the flip to her back and we are waiting for x-rays to make sure everything is placed perfectly (chest tubes, etc). He didn't replace her cast, but put her into a splint-like shell to keep her stabilized, for fear that she may startle awake at some point and injure herself. The splint will allow her chest to be monitored more safely. On so many levels the surgery went perfectly--even better than perfect. God has answered our prayers today!

She still has a long road ahead. She will be ventilator for a few days, and still needs to wake up and wiggle her toes (hopefully sometime in the night otherwise they'll do it in the morning). Please THANK GOD for his care today and continue to pray for her as she recovers!

For Sally

I know that we are covered in prayer. I am blessed beyond understanding by the sheer volume of people praying for Salomae. Many of you will be checking on her today by reading our blog. When Sally is a little older, I would like to be able to tell her about all of you who have been prayer warriors for her. When you stop by today, would you do me the favor of leaving Sally a comment? I've made it simple, so all of you lurkers can come out of hiding--no blogger id needed, just click on 'comment' and follow the directions.

Thank you so much!

We've been crying in the waiting area as I'm reading your comments...

Our Last Appointment

Josiah wakes up really early most mornings. Today was no exception. He and I cuddled in the dark living room on the sofa as he finished his bottle. His eyes closed and we both started to drift off. I was trying to forget about laundry, lesson plans, and posting about surgery. Just enjoying the few moments I could with a baby that is usually too busy to cuddle. I settled in and thought he was asleep when he ripped the bottle out of his mouth and burped in my face. Such is motherhood, I suppose.

Instead of cuddling, here I sit trying to remember everything that we talked about last night. The important stuff? Since the doctor hasn't done this exact, specific surgery before, he doesn't know how long it will take. **side note--that sounds horrible, he hasn't cleaned TB off of a kid's spine, but he's done a strut graft and fusion before, so don't freak out** The complicated part is cleaning out the infected bone and abscess. The general surgeon is going to do that (he's got experience cleaning TB out of organs). After that, he'll take a rib and anchor it into healthy vertebrae on the top and bottom. Then he will flip her over and put anchors and rods along the weak area of her back. He said it could take from 2 to 10 hours to get the first part done. He feels very confident about the surgery and about the final results.

I can't possibly recall what we talked about for an hour, but I left feeling much better than when I arrived. I was at the 'vomiting point' on our way up. Obviously, it doesn't take much to feel better than that.

Here's the last picture of Sally's 'bump' before surgery...

Sweetness

Today, pulmonology had to give Sally a once over to make sure she's healthy enough for surgery. We've not met this doctor, but he's heard about us for months. He's seen x-rays, MRIs, CTs, and reports but never actually seen the cute face that belongs with all of the junk. He gave us good news. Then he gave me a reality check. I don't really want to face reality at this point. I'm trying my best to just press on towards Thursday in the hopes that I won't have an emotional breakdown before then.

He gave me a rundown of the various tubes I should be expecting to see coming from Sally when she's in ICU. Then, he explained what would be coming or going from the said tubes. Then, he told me about lungs collapsing and pneumonia. Then, I asked how long we should expect Sally to be in ICU and he replied, "Oh, three to seven days." Like so nonchalant. I guess he didn't meet up with the planner in my mind that had us there about two days. Big difference in two and seven. Especially when you are talking about sleeping in a chair and watching your kid live with tubes coming out of her everywhere. I was giving him my 'deer in the headlights but faking like I'm okay with everything he just said' look. I think he knew I was freaked out. I'm not a very good faker.

I picked up the rest of the brood from my dear, absolutely should be sainted, friend. We went home and unloaded more groceries (I bought 10 loaves of bread today, I'm officially losing my mind). I laid the baby down for a nap. The biggies and I made chocolate chunk cookies.

Yeah, I'm thinking that's probably not numero uno on the list of things to do days before your daughter goes into surgery. I missed getting that list upon arrival at parenthood. So, I'm making up my own rules and they include chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. While our deliciousness was baking, I pulled out odds and ends of schoolwork to finish. This caused a barrage of complaining by the eldest child (who has determined that he needs to go directly to college since he's done with this nonsense). His murmurs blended well with the bickering of two more children and I had to send everyone to opposite corners of the house. A moment later, eldest somersaults from his appointed chair onto cast enclosed daughter and slams her to the floor...face first.

I'm at my breaking point, folks. I sent the offending boy outside and followed him. Then I explained that I couldn't take little tiffs. They could wait until life was normal again and bother each other. For now we must all get along and OBEY me. Then, I sent him in to do his work like a pleasant child and I...bawled...like...a...baby.

I just sat in the sun and had myself an absolute sob fest. Shoulders shaking, tears streaming down my face, and crying to God. I haven't cried since the day we found out about Sally's surgery. She watched me cry in the elevator and still asks me, "Why did you cry when we were at the doctor's office?" Obviously, that made a big impact.

I've held it it for too long and let *some* of it out today. In front of 4 pairs of eyes. I heard their whispers through the screen, "Everett, what did you do to Mommy?" A minute or so later one of them said, "Mommy, do you need something?" Then a chorus of, "Can we help you? Are you okay?"

God, why did you make them so rotten with this wonderful sweet streak? I hugged them all and we sat down and ate too many chocolate chunk cookies. Still only three days until surgery, but for a few minutes that's forgotten.

No news

This is just a small update--we know nothing new. The MRI and CT went well; Sally knows the routine and is excited about getting popsicles after waking up from anesthesia. We have an appointment on Tuesday with the surgeon to hear his final plan for surgery. Most depends on what he sees from the scans Friday.

They did cut the cast off, but had to do it BEFORE she was knocked out. The anesthesiologist took one look at her and said he couldn't get her mouth to open wide enough to put her out. So they brought some 'happy juice' and the saw. It came off right there in pre-op. Sally was loopy, but managed to wail the entire time. He sanded the edges down so it won't cut her and then put it back on with bandages. My eyes actually started welling up with tears because of the strong odor. The inside of the cast is brown with dirt, funk, and skin. She had three flowers from a headband embedded in her back. She picks at the headband and I guess one day a few fell right down the back of the cast and got stuck. She also had some grass and unknown other items down there too. The nurse and I rubbed her down really well with a warm washcloth. Sally just kept repeating, "Ahhhh, more, more!"

That night she sat in the tub for a long time and I scrubbed and scrubbed. It was disgusting. She was ecstatic about taking a bath after so many weeks of just dipping her toes in.

Four more days until surgery...

Final MRI

My week started out rough. On Monday, my cat gifted us with a chipmunk. As I was trying to figure out what to do with the carcass, the little bugger jumped up and started racing around my living room. I screamed...for at least 10 minutes straight. The worst thing was I called Seth during the drama and thought he didn't answer-so I was screaming then hung up on him. The kids and I stood on the deck watching our cat chase this chipmunk through the dining room into the kitchen. At one point it tried to come out of the screen onto the deck with us--which lead to louder shrieking by me. I finally opened the screen door to see where it was and it came blazing out from under the table with the cat close behind. The phone was ringing in my hand and as I answered it, the stinkin' chipmunk ran for freedom right between my feet. I was SCREAMING and Seth was shouting into the phone, "Are you alright?!" Obviously, I had terrified him and finally mustered a "Chipmunk! House!" I'm embarrassed to admit to all that screaming, but I couldn't help myself. Seth calmly said, "I can't believe it. I'm hanging up now." Then I calmly turned to the kids and said, "Do you feel like you are stuck in a Disney movie?" I never would have thought that animals ran between screaming women's feet in real life. The chipmunk escaped alive, by the way.

That afternoon, I backed Moby into a mailbox at the piano teacher's house. At the grocery checkout afterwards, I had to leave my groceries on the belt and RUN with Sally to the bathroom because she has a terrible habit of waiting until urine is running down her legs before she mentions needing the facilities.

That was just Monday. Imagine four more days of incidents like that (though no more wild creatures have arrived inside the house). That would lead us to today. Sally has her pre-surgery MRI and CT. Afterwards, while she's still knocked out, her cast is going to be removed. I'm thinking that the guy who cuts it off may need a mask. It stinks so bad that Eli asked last night if worms would come out with it (yuck). Then Everett said, "Nah, not worms, but definitely lots of dirt. Tons of dirt."

Either way it's going to be nasty and they are planning on putting it back on her by wrapping a bandage around it. Personally, I think plans may change once they get a whiff. Like torching the thing the moment it comes off of her body. The doctor is nervous to let her be without it for the next week. So she'll get to take it off to bathe and sleep.

The scans today will give the doctors a last view of what they are dealing with. Hopefully, the abscess will be small and there will be no surprises. We will meet with him on Tuesday to hear his final plans for surgery. We are still praying that both surgeries (on her back and her front) can be completed Thursday. Prayerfully she'll need only a week to recover and then we will be home.

Thank you for your prayers, encouragement, and recipes! You all have been a blessing to me and my family! I'll do my absolute best to update the blog as things happen next week. Please continue to lift Sally up in your prayers as surgery day approaches.

My Questions for You

We've got less than two weeks until surgery day. I'm making lists. They aren't productive lists though. They are stupid lists. I'm at the point of being overwhelmed beyond productivity. It isn't because I have so much to do. It's because I really don't know what I should be doing. So I've got some questions for you folks. Don't balk. Any opinion would be fine, I won't hold it against you if it isn't even a good, honest one. How's that for encouragement?

#1 I'm looking at one week, maybe two weeks, but possibly even a month or more in the hospital with Sally. I have my mother, my in laws, and my husband for help with our four non-hospitalized kids. That means they need meals. It could possibly be just 7 dinners (fending for breakfast and lunch is easy) but could be around a month of meals. Anyone have easy ideas for meals that I can freeze? Kid-friendly, but really easy for me to prep (remember, I've only got 11 days left) and just pop it in the oven and go? I'm willing to experiment with all kinds of crazy food, but I'm not about to leave my mom trying to convince Eli that he should eat the spinach stuffed shells.

#2 I haven't had a child in the hospital (excluding emergency room visits) so I don't know what to expect for a long term stay. Anyone have any advice on what to bring/do for Sally? How about advice on explaining surgery and hospitalization to a child who doesn't have a firm grasp of English? We've already read "Maisy goes to the hospital" about 1,568 times. Any other suggestions?

#3 What about the kids who have to stay at home? What kinds of things can I do now to prepare them? And (this is just merely because I'm curious) should I make them do school?

I'm making myself crazy. I feel like I'm getting ready to leave the country, but the hospital is only a scant 5 minutes away. I'll be coming home. Our kids will be coming to the hospital. My family can call if they can't find the casserole dishes. Though I'm planning on contributing to a landfill by supplying paper products for the time that others are responsible for maintaining sanity around here. Loving on the kids will be enough, I don't need to ask them to run the dishwasher...or cook...or wash clothes...or clean the bathrooms...

I appreciate all of you--your emails and comments have been so encouraging! I'm actually writing this post because so many of you were so helpful with the "stinky urine soaked cast" issue. I figured a bunch of genius' like you could help me a little more! Looking forward to hearing from you again!

Just to give you an idea of my mental state: I bought 15 jars of peanut butter today because they were on sale and (here's the kicker) "I don't want anyone to run out of peanut butter while I'm at the hospital." We do eat a lot of peanut butter, but I don't think we will be running out until 2015 much less in the next month.

Run in with an escalator

Today I found myself in a department store. With my children. I could probably end there and just let your imagination run wild with the antics that might take place when one woman takes five children into a department store. Reality can be so much more entertaining.

We just left the dentist. I should have gone directly home and taken a nap. But, Everett needs a pair of slacks for church. I decide that stopping at the department store wouldn't be a bad idea. I must have lost my mind. Every time I get home from an "event" I always forget about the looks, questions, and conversations that take place while I'm out. We are a spectacle. Five kids walking around with one adult would get some stares. One Asian child, two African children, and two white children walking around with one adult gets quite a few stares. Add to it that one child is in a cast up to her neck (talking LOUDLY ALL THE TIME) and we get more than looks. It's almost as if the Muzak in the background screeches off while we walk by.

We get into the store and ride the escalator to the second floor. Now, I realize that escalators can be dangerous. I've heard the 'crocs stuck in the escalator' stories. But they are high fun for kids. Especially the kid that hasn't been on an escalator since the plane trip home from Ethiopia. We shop, I see the prices, we get ready to leave. Our trip up to the second floor was so easy that I don't consider how careful I need to be on the ride back down. We are all seasoned riders now, right? I don't realize that you can't see how high you are as you ride up. Looking from the second floor down a moving staircase is terrifying.

Ella got on and then I stepped on (with baby in sling) and Sally ripped her hand out of mine and froze. I'm going down...down...down. Three of my kids are standing at the top. For a split second I consider running up the down...but I'm not Lara Croft. So I start yelling (this is more my modus operandi), "Everett stay with them! You guys just stay there! I'll be right back! But, GRACIOUS STEP AWAY FROM THE ESCALATOR BEFORE YOU FALL!!"

I slowly turn around as they step away and meet the stares of the entire cosmetics department. All conversation has ceased. All eyes are on me. Ho hum, nothing to see here folks. I'll just be running over to the other escalator. For fun.

I almost told Ella to stand by the earrings and wait (she was slowing me down) until I got my wits about me. Telling this child to stay put would be idiotic. Once, I gave a spiel about taking candy from strangers, helping to search for lost puppies, etc. After my 30 minute talk about stranger danger, I asked her what we say to strangers who offer us candy. Her reply, "Thank you!" Yep, can't leave her alone. Ever.

Ella and I get back onto the escalator and as I'm pulling her around the corner I hear this thumping noise. It's my other three kids who have overcome their fear of escalators and found out that playing with the rubber black handrail can be quite entertaining. Just as I'm almost to them, two concerned clerks approach them. And why wouldn't they? Three kids alone playing on the escalator? Sounds negligent to me. Dangerous even. I think I hear children's services being called as I grab two sets of hands and pull them onto the escalators. We safely make it down and I try to hold my head high as we make our exit. Sans new slacks and sanity.

Just for Auntie Gayle

Almost exactly one month ago we celebrated a wonderful event in our backyard. My Father-in-law (aka Popop) had his birthday. I won't disclose his age. My Mom told me the other day that '50 is the new 30' so that means that there are still many more years of wrestling with kids for dear old Popop.

Popop pictured with the grand kids (don't mind the man hiding behind the baby, Josiah regularly levitates).

We were joined by Aunt Gayle and Uncle Dale. I'm certain that they were completely and utterly overwhelmed by our obnoxious exuberant brood. (It doesn't matter how you slice it; five kids equals madness when compared to a household of two). We managed to put on quite a showstopper of an afternoon. Entertainment included high diving by Ella and Eli, pouting from a master-in-training (Salomae), and amazing eating feats by Josiah. Sadly, this could only be found exciting to those closely related to our prodigies. I saved the day by providing corn-on-the-cob. Who knew that Auntie Gayle was such a fan? It only took about 3 hours to grill on our slower than molasses contraption called a gas grill that your husband refuses to fix so you can just dump charcoal in it and grill that way. For years. And wonder why you even bother to grill at all.

Eli working his wonders as he flops (on his knees) into the pool from a standing position on the slide.

That said, Aunt Gayle must have been charmed because as she was screaming out of the driveway leaving; she gave me a gift for the kids. I promised her that I'd let her know what I decided to do with her 'little gift'. Drum roll please...

We threw the kids a party.

Once I thought about it, I figured they didn't need more toys (though they would have been happy with that). It's back to school time. I was feeling a little sad for my kids as they watch their friends getting ready for a new school year. So I told the kids we'd have a party for them and some of their home schooled friends. Auntie Gayle made it happen. Complete with water balloons, grilled hot dogs (why did I bother, the microwave would have been fine), sand, bubbles...and chocolate. They had a blast. I think Aunt Gayle might have enjoyed it--just picture Popop's birthday but add another 20 children (and water balloons). You get the idea.

Happy Birthday, Everett!

It's hard to believe, but Everett is eight. I'm a downright mean Mother/Teacher and made him have school on his birthday. I'm a wimp disguised as a meanie. I made him 'do' math (easy, peasy since it's the beginning of the year) and history (he begged to have history today). We went to a doctor's appointment then visited McD's for lunch (don't start...). On the positive side, since I'm always full to the top of mom guilt, we did take the fast food to the park. We went on a nature scavenger hunt afterwards and made our own kilts when we got home (I'll have to explain that one). I tried to pepper fun into the muck of daily life just for his special day.

So he's eight. I can't believe that I've got an eight-year-old. I remember eight. So he'll remember what happens now. How's that for keeping you honest? Yipes. I'm sorry to say that his birthday present from us was an...xbox. We (head shaking) have joined (sigh) the masses. Do we get credit because we bought it cheap on craig's list from a 16 year old who was upgrading? Still a time waster. Included with the gift is a growing list of rules that have yet to be disclosed (I'm not a total party pooper).

Everett's so happy. His Dad is so happy. So are the siblings. And, I guess...I can try to be happy, too. Or at least put up with it. I think they played with that instead of reading books tonight. Here comes our demise! Happy Birthday, Everett!

The hat is courtesy of Rara and Popop's cross country trip. Seems to scream Vegas to us, but we are unsure of it's origin. One thing is certain, it's a new birthday tradition. For the kids, that is.

The Vacation Post

I've mentioned it before, but I have a problem with procrastinating. When we got home from our weeklong trip to visit relatives (back in July), I was too busy to actually post about the trip and only managed to write about the poopy trip back. It's been bugging me that I never put up pictures (at least) from the week. Now, we just spent the weekend camping on the lake and I'm thinking that I'll probably end up doing the same thing and just waiting until the pictures become obsolete. Then, I was struck with the grand idea of just putting the favs on here. For posterity and to ease my conscience.














I actually had more pictures posted here, but got frustrated with how they were organized. It may seem a little cluttered or disorganized as a result.











These two are from the rodeo. If you don't "get" what Eli is doing, then read this post from last year and get ready to pee in your pants. If you overlook Peta violations and child safety issues, watching kids bullet out of a corral on a sheep is hilarious. Everett, unfortunately, was too old to participate this year. He was part of the peanut 'somethingorother' where you dig up peanuts for cash. He and about 20 other youngsters raced around in the sawdust and poo digging for bags of peanuts. At the end of the allotted time they were paid a dollar for each bag they found. Delightful, until you, and an entire stadium of onlookers, watch as your eldest and another boy struggle over the last bag. They played tug of war until the sack ripped in half and peanuts spewed everywhere. It did my heart right to see Everett reach into his pail and give that boy one of his bags. I congratulated him on his generosity when he sat down with us. His reply? "Oh, that was his bag, I took it when he dropped it but decided to give it back to him." Oh, okay.




Here's a 'Before' shot of the clan as we decided to take an afternoon stroll. My Dad and Grandma sat this one out (because they are so smart). One minute we are walking across a meadow in the Ozarks and the next minute we are in the jungles of Vietnam (complete with hacking ourselves a path through 6 foot tall bamboo). Thankfully, we had cell phones and called my Dad in for a rescue.
This is Sally meeting her first fish. It didn't go over so well. Later, she was reclining in my Mom's lap when Ella yanked a fish out of the water so fast that it flew behind her and nearly took Sally's face off. She mentioned that incident just a few days ago. Scarred her for life.







This is my Great, Grandma meeting our new babies for the first time.

Little, Teeny, Tiny Update

All is well in the land of plaster and foam. Except for the stink of urine that hangs in a cloud around my daughter. I don't think she notices it; so I'm not making it an issue. Don't let her know that I've spread it all over bloggy world, but she wears a pull up to bed. I guess better stated, I could say, she has a pull up around her legs while she sleeps (since the cast keeps us from putting it on her properly). Then, the urine flows up along her back saturating the cast.

We are going to be dealing with the cast for a while. I think we may be stuck at home after next week because of the smell. Really. I think I caught a whiff of it at the surgeon's office (Seth told me that it was Josiah's diaper, but I don't know...).

We had two appointments today. One check up on the cast. "Yep, it's going to get stinky. Hmm, use some masking tape to cover that area and spray her with Febreeze." That isn't too much better than what I was already doing. It's sort of worse, really. I've got a pretty good mental picture and it makes me laugh. The little news-she's going to get the cast off the week before surgery to let her skin get nice and healthy (and CLEAN). That means we have about 4 weeks until it comes off.

The second appointment was with the pediatric surgeon who will be "assisting and helping with access" during the surgery. He answered our questions very thoroughly and reassured us that we are in very good hands. He also went into detail about the surgery and where they are going to be cutting, etc. but I'll avoid discussing that since...do we really need to go there?

Week in Pictues

So much happened this week and I can't begin to write about it all. I'm overwhelmed with tasks at home and would really like to. sit. still. Everyone keeps asking me, "Have you been watching the Olympics?"

Huh? Remind yourself what you are asking. "Have you managed to get prepared for school, deal with medical issues, doctor visits, house cleaning, cooking, taking care of kids, and spending a moment with your husband and then sit down in front of the TV and watch other people being active since you didn't get to run today?" Yeah, not so much.

I caught a glimpse of the rowing while waiting at a restaurant 2 weeks ago. I enjoyed that while I could (since rowing holds a special place in my heart). I've enjoyed hearing about it, but end up feeling guilty since we haven't seen a lick of the games at home. Guilty about NOT watching TV; something is wrong with that.

Anyway--now that I've wasted all that time that I could have actually written about our week, I'll post the pictures--THAT I PROMPTLY DELETED FROM MY MEMORY STICK. I can't believe it. Looks like I'll be re-taking "first day of school pictures" today (day 3). Honestly, I'm a buffoon.

We started school on Monday. It was a little chaotic, but actually went well. I think the kids enjoyed themselves. They were THRILLED, I'll say it again for emphasis, THRILLED with school starting because they've been locked out of the basement for weeks. I did that last year with much success. It adds to the anticipation. Sally clamored for workbooks and pencils and the like so she caused no problems (on day 2 she grabbed a phonics workbook from Eli's stash and was just about to get going with a marker when I stopped her--she's an eager learner). Josiah played, ate, and napped. He did just what I had scheduled.

Tuesday, I realized that we wouldn't see Salomae's back as it is again. Ever. She's in a cast, she won't come out of the cast until surgery. Then she'll be back into a cast and hopefully heal up without a bump. So I took some pictures while she napped. So sneaky.

Today, she had her casting. It's not pretty, folks. She hasn't lost her ability to grin, but she can't move her head at all. AT ALL. She ate cheerios for 'lunch' when we got home (they knocked her out this morning to do the casting so she did without breakfast). Have you ever tried to eat cheerios without looking at the bowl? Her self-feeding skills aren't that graceful in the first place, but it's genuinely a mess now. We also can't figure out if she should sit or stand. She's got this space-age seat belt that lets her lie down on the seat of the van. She's not happy there, but terribly uncomfortable in her car seat. Everything seems to be a choice between the lesser of two evils. And she,"...wants this thing off and her brace back. Thankyouverymuch."

"You fool, why are you taking my picture in this thing?" She's a little grumpy upon realizing that it's a permanent piece of equipment. So much happier after eating and getting dressed...still looking awfully uncomfortable. Did you notice the handy 'Thanksgiving meal' hole in Sally's cast--they think of everything, don't they?

After a day like today, I decided to just go ahead and bring the girls (and Josiah) to the salon. On a whim (sort of), I hacked my hair off. I'm tired of looking like a tired, frumpy, mom of five. I can't do anything about the tired and five kids, but a limp ponytail? So I cut it off. Ella was so excited, but when it was her turn she bawled. I made her get a trim nonetheless. I'm a meanie. And I'm lazy and didn't want to cut her hair myself. Sally really wanted a hair cut, but she doesn't really have much hair to start with. Considering the gal had to cut my hair while I held a squirmy 10 month old; she did a good job. Photo taken by Salomae in such a manner that you can't admire my hair aside from seeing that most of it is gone. Finally.

That has been our week. I just realized its only Wednesday.

The Date Has Been Set

I've been distracted since Thursday.

When my dad was diagnosed with cancer a few years ago, I remember stumbling through my day wondering how everything could still be so normal. I felt like I should be wearing a scarlet "C" on my shirt so anyone I met could understand what was going on in my life. The day after I found out, I was running with a friend and the normalcy of what we were doing struck me. I finally blurted out, "My dad has cancer."

So I'm doing that right now-with this post-I'm blurting out, "My daughter's spine is disintegrating and she's having surgery in six weeks."

Thursday was our monthly check-up with our orthopedic surgeon. We did not get good news. I had a feeling things weren't going to be good. Salomae hasn't been able to stand up without her brace on. Every morning she calls out, "Mommy, brace on!"

We had x-rays without the brace, then waited for the doctor. He came in and examined Sally. Then he sat down and I've selectively forgotten everything that followed after the statement, "We need to do surgery within the next 4-6 weeks."

I recall asking about our trip to the beach that we planned for the end of September. Like an idiot. I have been working on this trip, planning to start our school year early (tomorrow) and go to the beach late because of Seth's work schedule. I wanted this trip because I'm afraid that next summer my daughter may not be able to walk in the sand or play in the water. Of course, I didn't say that to the doctor. I wouldn't have made it very far into the explanation without breaking down and bawling.

We knew it was coming, but I had put it out of my mind. I hoped that Sally would have more time with us before we throw her life into a tailspin. Last month the curvature of her spine was at a 32 degree angle. On Thursday, her vertebrae were curved at 67 degrees. It's obvious that we can't wait much longer before something has to be done. The more her back curves, the more her spinal cord stretches and the harder it will be to repair later (if she doesn't suffer neurological deficits beforehand). Her doctor wants to put her in a cast this week (Wednesday) that will go from her hips to her neck. His hope is that this will keep her where she is until surgery (October 2).

During surgery, he will take her tenth rib and rotate it around so that it supports her infected vertebrae. The rib will still have a blood supply and will eventually form one bone mass where her weak vertebrae were. Then, he will put hooks along the outside of her back to give her more support and pull her back up some. We are praying that he can perform both surgeries in one day for obvious reasons. Otherwise, she will undergo the strut graft (rib to vertebrae surgery) and recover for a week then the next surgery. There are about a million things that could go wrong. I'm trying not to think about them, but finding myself slipping into this 'what if' place.

I can't help but think about Isaac in California. Watching his story unfold over the past 6 weeks has been terrifying. My kids have been especially touched and pray nightly for his health and recovery. I spoke with Jocelyn (Isaac's mom) on Friday night and she reassured me that Sally is in as good a spot as we could hope. Sally's case isn't as bad as Isaac's. I know of two other cases in the US recently and there were complications in both. Considering the odds, I don't think we can expect Sally to go in for surgery and leave the hospital the next week. I'm not normally a pessimist, but I've got to plan for at least 3 weeks in the hospital with my daughter. I'm thanking God that my Mom and in-laws are retired and willing to come up and help. I'm thankful that this doctor is five minutes from our house. I'm thankful that Sally is here and not in Ethiopia suffering with Pott's disease. But I'm still scared and wondering how things will be in a few months.

Friday morning, Everett came downstairs before anyone else was awake. The first words out of his mouth were, "I should have what Sally has instead of her."

I wasn't sure where he was going with this and asked, "Why do you say that?"

"Because it would be better for me to be sick and in the hospital instead of her. Or you, or Daddy could have it. Just not her."

I cried.

A Quarter Inch of Happiness

My friend, the gal I previously mentioned that could write a cat blog, keeps me on my toes. She sends me emails with blog REQUESTS. I don't know if that is legal in bloggy world, but I allow her to do it. More often than not, I pacify her (lest she stop reading my blog) and do whatever she tells me. So she asked for an update on Ella, our goddess of drama and gorging herself on food. She's taking Depakote for her epilepsy. And that is that.

She's having seizures, but they are...less noticeable. She doesn't have grand Mal seizures, her's are a flutter of her eyes and losing a few seconds. Before the meds they happened a dozen times a day. Maybe more. Always more if she didn't get enough sleep or was doing math with mom stressed. So I guess she's better off. I think. It's only a few times a day. Ugh. But that is NOT what this post is about...

Before we went to Ethiopia, Ella was getting her shoes on and came running into the kitchen. She stood in front of me, quite determined, and said, "I want another leg. I want two feet. Like Eli and Everett has. I want a foot like this 'real' foot I have."

Oh dear me. What to do, what to say. I've been dreading this day. So, I start with, "Well, why do you want another foot like that?"

"Because I want wear flip flops."

Relief. This isn't so serious after all.

"Wha...Hmmm. You've got flip flops," Me, leading her to the Birkenstock sandals that are strappy.

"No, I want it go in my toes. Like Everett and Eli have. I show you." She runs off to show me a 'true' flip flop. I obviously already know what a flip flop looks like and that indeed it does go between your toes. Unfortunately, her prosthetic foot is a mold of toes, all one piece, and honestly in pretty bad shape. At that point, the toes were just barely hanging on.

She runs, breathless, into her bedroom with a flip flop on her right foot. A camo flip flop. "See?" she says, "Between my toes. I want this."

It goes on and I promise that we can look for some shoes with a thingy between the toes. I'm planning to just cut the 'thingy' and have straps holding the shoes on around the ankle or something. I'm pretty crafty, you see. Or ghetto, depends on who you talk to.

Months pass, we go to Ethiopia and come home. We are busy now. Real busy. And Ella's toes are held on with a variety of colored duct tape. The replacement foot we ordered before I left for Africa never arrived. An insurance glitch that would get fixed in August. This was June. So we left that leg man and found another.

This guy is the man of Ella's dreams. He took one look at her sad leg and said she needed a replacement leg, not just a foot. And he ordered her a foot with toes that are separated for flip flop wearing gals like her. She loves him, I think. She drew him a picture with cats on it. She adores him. And we went shopping for flip flops that day. Even though it took about a month for the leg to get done. She can't keep the stinkin' shoes on, but she wears them when I let her.

Traveling Families

Three families from America World are leaving to pick up their children today. These are babies that we photographed and videoed while in Ethiopia. I can't believe how much they have changed and I'm so excited to see them coming home. Here are the blogs of their families: Wesley's family , Levi's family, and Zamara's family. If you go back a few posts you can see pictures of their cuties from court day. I made Zamara cry and then videoed it, you can watch my wretched hand reach out and she starts bawling. A sure high point in my life as videographer for waiting families. Ugh.

True Confessions

I started thinking about the pedastal that I've been put on and decided that I needed to do a post that lets you in on a little secret. So get ready for me to knock your socks off...

I'm not a perfect mom.

Lest you think I'm a superhero or Kate (of reality tv fame) I want to tell you that I am indeed a regular mom with regular problems (that more often than not involve some kind of child's bodily fluids). I'm thinking the best way for me to let you in on my reality is by making some confessions. Here we go:

1- My kids eat at McDonald's. Gasp. It is true. It doesn't happen on a weekly basis, but sometimes I've been known to make a drive thru appearance at the local McD's. Salomae ate a burger with a side of 5 nuggets last week. She's a true carnivore.
2- I don't order Happy Meals. They are too expensive. Yeah, we are that cheap. And did you know that there isn't a "Burger with side of nuggets" option?
3- I'm pretty selfish. I try to be, anyway. The other day, while weeding the garden with the kids, I noticed that there were raspberries ready to pick. I meandered over to the bushes and picked them. Then, in a moment of sheer selfishness, I decided to eat them all as fast as I could and NOT SHARE THEM WITH MY KIDS. Yeah. Didn't work because their 'Mommy is doing something fun' radars went off. I ate one raspberry before I was spotted and the masses converged on me to eat the rest of my bounty.
4- I can't do imaginary play. I just can't. I've tried. A few weeks ago I ran around in the backyard neighing like a horse being chased by four cougars. I couldn't get into it. I'd rather read a book.
5- Sometimes I get annoyed. That doesn't need an explanation.
6- Occasionally, while in Moby, during a particularly irritating spat between children, I will unroll all of the windows and blast whatever music happens to be on at the time. It feels good and the kids stop arguing. I think they do, but I can't hear them so does it matter? I've gotten some pretty strange looks as we pull up to a light with Vivaldi blaring.
7- I don't dust. I rarely iron. I don't particularly enjoy folding clothes (I 'wad' more than I fold). My kids socks aren't all that white. If we can even find two that match. I have a hamper full of socks without mates.
8- I don't wipe out Sally's brace with alcohol EVERY night like the orthodics guy told me to. She does wear a clean undershirt (changed after naps because she's so sweaty all of the time).
9- While on the cleanliness confessional kick: If they are clean, I don't make my kids take a bath every night.
10- I have actually yelled at my children.

There you have it folks. The bare naked truth. See, I'm pretty normal. By the grace of God my children will survive their childhood and as adults dote on me and call me blessed.

4 o'clock daily

Every weekday at 4 pm the health department nurse knocks softly at my door. I let her in and she watches me administer four anti-TB medications to Salomae. Then she leaves. As simple as that. She's a nice lady and Sally expects her arrival daily.


Secretly, I hold a grudge against the program that doesn't trust us to consistently medicate our sick child. I understand the need for the government to check up on all the TB carriers in the area. If people don't take their meds, we could have a pretty serious problem on our hands. We comply by opening our home, begrudgingly. Do I sound a wee bit perturbed? Do you want someone to come to your house everyday? Just as naps are ending and sweet solitude is closing for the day.


I check the clock and wake Sally up. We talk in hushed tones to keep Ella asleep for as long as she needs. "Did you pee pee in your pull-up?" She giggles and always replies no even when I can see the rust colored urine staining the diaper. She scampers into clean panties and a clean undershirt. Then I strap on her brace. And I hear a knock on the door. Since 'pictures are worth a thousand words...'


Here's Sally's debut in 'nasty faces you can make while taking nasty medicines'. Well worth an Oscar.

On the technical, medical side: The sample of fluid from Salomae's back came back positive for TB. No big news there, but the fact that they got a culture to grow is good. That was sent off to the state which tested it for drug sensitivity. We got those results last week and Sally's TB is drug sensitive (NOT resistant to the drugs she's taking). Which means we can drop off one of the meds--now she's down to three. In another month we should be able to drop another one.