Another Way for week of January 6, 2023
What Do You Hope For?
When I think about my father, one of the things that comes to mind is that he was a wonderfully positive and hopeful person. He would look on the bright side of things, and put his energies into changing the world. He literally wanted to help “feed the hungry people of the world” and engaged in projects to do that.
He also tried, in the 1950s, to reach across racial and cultural divides with friendship and understanding—in a very white town/community at the time. Later, he tried to bring employment opportunities to one community in the deep south and believed resolutely that pursuing peaceful resolutions to national and world problems was possible. He was not perfect, and did at one point have a time of situational depression, but he was able to come through that and chart new paths for himself and our family.
I like to think I was born with a little of his hopeful nature. But in all my years of writing this column (since 1987), I don’t think I’ve ever written one on “hope.” Other apt words for hope are optimism, expectation, confidence, anticipation, and courage.
When God created the universe, God shared with us the awesome gift of hope.
There are many beautiful things in this world (along with a lot of not-so-wonderful things) but let’s focus a few minutes on what hope brings to our lives.
Hope keeps us going when times are hard. Hope births imagination and creativity. None of us are too old to have hope, and none of us are too tiny or young to not possess it.
Speaking of birth, one of the joys of becoming a mother was holding my little girls just minutes or hours after they had emerged from my body, and watching them look around. I know that a baby’s vision is not very good in those early hours or even days and weeks, but as their days continue in a safe and loving atmosphere, they begin to see the world and its people and begin to smile. Sure, they cry plenty too, but the smiles soon come and I think that a smile conveys hope, as well as love, comfort, and joy.
So in the early days of this new year, consider what gives you the hope, anticipation, and joy of a newborn. We can be like babies or new earthlings, eager to test out what our days will hold for us.
That can be hard, for surely we are also burdened with work to do, problems to solve, aches and pains to bear, anger and issues to resolve. Even in the darkest moments of life, there is hope for eternal life.
“Do your little bit of good where you are; it’s those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world,” said Elizabeth Cady Stanton in the early 1800s. Her confidence led to helping other women speak up and lead those looking for hope and change in the early decades of our country.
Many mentions in the Bible give us something to hang on to in the (sometimes) bleak midwinter. Here are some personal favorites:
“For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. They are plans for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” – Jeremiah 29:11.
“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” – Hebrews 11:1
“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” – 1 Corinthians 13: 13
I will end with this from Romans 15:13: “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in God, so that you may overflow with hope.”
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What gives you hope? Comment here or write to me at Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834, or email anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Recipe
Kimberly’s Cheese Ball
So, party season and snacky things are winding down, right? But there’s an important baby shower coming up.
Even though I had never made a cheese ball, I was happy to try my hand at it since one of the recipes in my book Whatever Happened to Dinner: Recipes and Reflections for Family Mealtime (Herald Press, 2010) has my co-worker Kimberly Metzler’s recipe in it. I shouldn’t call it hers, she got it from a friend at church, but that’s how recipes get around, right? I made a few changes for mine.
It was much easier to do than I expected and delicious too. Go for it!
8 ounces cream cheese, softened
2 tablespoons fresh (or dried) chives, chopped; or, I substituted 2 tablespoons chopped green onions
3 ounces chipped beef or ham, chopped
1 cup Colby or sharp cheddar cheese, grated, fresh
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
½ – 1 cup chopped nuts (I used pecans)
Mix all ingredients except chipped beef and nuts in a mixer. Add meat and stir until well combined. Spray hands with cooking spray and shape the mixture into a ball. Roll in chopped nuts. Refrigerate. Serve with crackers.
Cheese ball before chopped nuts.
Have you tried a new recipe lately, or made a cheese ball?
Haven’t heard of this book?
Find out more here.
Another Way for week of December 30, 2022
Who or What Inspires You?
At year’s end, we look ahead, right? We’ve got to explore the hope and joy that may fill the New Year, especially after the last couple years we’ve had. Yes, sure, there will be trauma and drama in the year ahead but let’s leave our imaginations soar for a few minutes.
What do you envision for your year ahead?
A lot depends on your age, your health, your family, for sure. If you are blessed with working a job (or cursed if it’s a job you hate), your life certainly revolves around the demands of getting up every day and driving off (or secluding yourself) in a home workplace. The title of my recent book, Memoir of an Unimagined Career may sound like the opposite of this theme “imagine” but looking back, I can see how as a teenager I began to imagine bit by bit what I could maybe work at: a job that involved writing, which was one of my loves.
A lot of us who still read daily newspapers—especially in the newsprint format, are retired. So we get more choice in how we spend our days than driving off to work at 7:30 a.m. or, like my husband had to do for a number of years, leaving around 4 a.m. to make it to his 5 a.m. job.
One of the opportunities on my job for almost thirty years was writing a newspaper column as a very small part of my work on my employer’s dime. Then in 2016, my wonderful boss, a woman, asked me to take on the role of managing editor for the publishing arm, and that would mean not writing my column on company time. So that’s when I spun off to “syndicating” my own column. It has worked out well. So although I don’t have to go to “work,” I’m happy to continue writing.
They say that the happiest people in retirement are ones who have hobbies, or volunteer, or have side gigs that keep them energized and involved. Probably the happiest people are ones who have learned all along the way that what you do or become in life is something you are responsible for. Succumbing to boredom, drugs and chaos brings discord and pain. In some ways, we make our own destiny, although many have illnesses, disabilities, or mental challenges that affect our journeys greatly. We marvel and take our hats off to those who’ve dealt with loss of limbs or paralysis and persevere in having a happy life. We salute the service men and women who experienced lifelong sacrifices from disability or illness.
I’ve had the opportunity to twice interview a local man Josh Sundquist, who lost his entire leg to cancer at the age of nine. Eventually he became a motivational speaker, a skilled writer/author, a comedian at clubs and on YouTube, and is now married and lives in southern California. Recently he became the director and producer of an Apple TV video series “Best Foot Forward.” It features another amputee who lost his leg at the age of nine, and explores what kid encounters with this huge loss of a major limb, at school and out in the world where stares and prying questions are commonplace.
I personally cannot imagine living with one leg, and pursuing such a career as Josh has. He in turn—and the young real-life boy who only has one leg as well—are giving us all a bigger idea of how we can live with the trials that face us.
Who inspires you? What do you want to do in this precious year—perhaps find a new skill, hobby, or pastime? The year is yours!
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So …. I’d love to hear your stories.
Or a fav story about someone else, if you have permission to share or change the name.
Or, what do you want to do in this precious year?
Comment here or contact me at Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834, or email at anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of Dec. 23, 2022
While Waiting: Pay Attention, Give Praise
The countdown to Christmas is now over: precious days that are too busy. But as we get older many of us need to celebrate Christmas after the 25th (families with small children want to be able to experience the “Christmas morning magic” in their own homes). Grandpas and Grandmas who live farther away must wait for the magic that bursts out of the minivans when the children and grands arrive a couple days later. Each moment is precious and we pause to pay attention to the little ones and can now enjoy generous hugs again.
One of my favorite authors/bloggers/speakers is Heather Lende, who writes from Haines, Alaska, a small town we were fortunate to visit in 2019. Her husband runs the ACE Hardware there and my husband had to visit it, just because he loves hardware. We browsed the store and bought one thing: a pack of ear plugs to help us cancel out noise on the long plane rides home.
On a recent blog post, Heather shared a quote from another (even more famous) writer, John Updike, that I love: Ancient religion and modern science agree: we are here to give praise. Or to slightly tip the expression, to pay attention.
In Heather’s blog post with this quote, her grandchildren are looking out to the water at her home and watching a whale’s fin appear. How cool is that to look out your living room window and see whales.
How can we do a better job of truly paying attention to the wonder that is around us? I often marvel at the morning sky. We live far enough out in the country that on a clear night, the stars and the constellations look like they’re, just say, a mile or two away instead of 244 light years away. A light-year is the distance light travels in one year, and according to Google, “Light zips through space at 186,000 miles per second and 5.88 trillion miles per year.” Whew. We can’t even realistically wrap our heads around that, right?
Back to our small acreage: early morning I can frequently see a jet flying overhead with some of its landing lights already on, heading to Dulles Airport near Washington D.C. I say hi and wave (silly old lady that I am) and send a prayer that they land safely. It may be a small thing, but it makes me feel connected with the larger universe and God: paying attention.
So … the night Jesus was born and the astrologers who studied the stars back then noticed something and started on a trek (silly old guys that they were) which probably took months to complete. The story in the Bible goes on to say that when they finally reached Joseph and Mary and the baby, they bowed down and praised this heaven-sent being, the baby Jesus, likely five or six months old by then.
Whew. The gifts God has given are eternal and free and full of surprises.
How do you pay attention to God’s marvelous gift and plan? How do we celebrate the birth of the Christ-child while experiencing so much violence and hatred and persecution in the world? Another writer, Melissa Florer-Bixler in a book How to Have an Enemy: Righteous Anger and the Work of Peace, reminds us that the suffering and loss we see in the world will one day come to an end, and God “will wipe away all tears from our eyes.”
We await a still more wonderful outcome as we faithfully follow in the footsteps of Jesus who reminds us, in the words of still another writer and composer, George Frideric Handel in The Messiah, “The kingdom of this world is become the kingdom of our Lord, and of His Christ; and He shall reign forever and ever.”
Wrap your head around that! Hoping you had a meaningful Christmas, whatever your circumstances.
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Highlights of your Christmas?
I know today is New Year’s Eve; if you haven’t taken time to enjoy the Hallelujah chorus yet this Christmas, here’s a link!
Share here or send to me at anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career: 43 Years Inside Mennonite Media. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of December 16, 2022
Hark the Harold
No, that is not a misspelling of a familiar Christmas carol.
Our neighbor just across the road from us was named Harold and he had a booming laugh that we could hear from our house, earning him this “title.” I would give anything to hear that laughter ring out from his porch or around our dining room table again.
Harold became a dear friend of my husband and Stuart considered him like a favorite uncle. Stuart’s own Dad died back in 1998. We moved across from Harold in 2007 and my husband and Stuart soon connected and shared many hours-long chats and conversations. Both of them were/are quite the talkers, as locals know.
Harold did not go far in school and grew up during the Great Depression. But he was very smart, hardworking, had a memory like an elephant, and managed his chicken and cattle farm with dedication. In addition, he worked for twenty years for Walker Manufacturing here in Harrisonburg, a muffler factory. The pastor conducting the funeral noted that Harold often had a sparkle or mischief in his eye, was practical, down-to-earth, and loved his family.
Harold knew his stuff and Stuart went to him with all kinds of questions and stories: boy did they swap tales. I would often leave them talking on Harold’s porch to hurry home to make supper or do other chores but I have a feeling it was my loss. His wife Willie was my friend as well and she’s still living, but unfortunately deals with dementia making it hard to have a conversation. The four of us enjoyed going out to eat several times a year or took drives where Harold would share what and who he knew throughout our rural landscape. Last year he led us to a nearby relative’s farm where we cut down a free cedar tree for Christmas.
One of our favorite stories was the summer that a skunk walked into the live trap we had set in our garden for varmints like ground hogs and raccoons. Oh dear. How do you get a skunk out of a trap or handle it to move somewhere without getting sprayed?
Harold told Stuart to just move in very very slowly and unhook the door. Which Stuart did, with some trepidation. He got the door unhooked and left the area, checking it several times through the day. The skunk still sat in the cage. Finally, overnight, the skunk moved out without spraying anyone.
Like all of us, Harold admitted he had faults. When I talked to him about matters of faith, he would sometimes mention the years he spent smoking and now regrets. But he lived to be 94, so that’s not bad. And we assured him that we believe the good Lord would not hold smoking or chewing tobacco against him.
Harold loved his wife Willie with the passion of a teenager, which he was when he first went to ask Willie’s father if he could date her. She is a bit older than Harold, and I’m told that after the father thought about it a bit, he said “I reckon it would be alright.” An endearing photo of the two of them—very good looking and much younger, went into his casket forever. I wish I had a copy.
At the funeral luncheon (his church provided sandwiches, veggie soup, cake and fruit), stories flowed. Lois, a woman I met when I was 18 and entering voluntary service, we both attended a two-week orientation in Indiana where she was my roommate. This Lois, a Virginia native, grew up with Harold and Willie’s sons in their church’s youth group, but I never knew that. Lois led the congregational singing with two hymns Harold wanted to have sung at his funeral, and Lois’ husband, Robert, a pastor, conducted the service.
Harold made an eternal impact on us and we both will miss him greatly. I’m sure we’ll meet him on the other side someday.
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P.S. I cannot look at these photos now without having tears come to my eyes. These were beloved neighbors. Willie is still living and we pray for her well-being in the weeks and months ahead, and the family members who care for her.
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What are your memories or experiences with special neighbors.
We have been blessed with others over the years! I hope you have too!
What kind of neighbor do you aspire to be?
Share here or send your memories or comments to anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career: 43 Years Inside Mennonite Media. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of December 2, 2022
To the Dump, To the Dump
I’m using a takeoff from “The Lone Ranger” TV show theme song as the title for this column because we used to sing something like “To the Dump, To the Dump, To the Dump Dump Dump” on Saturday morning excursions to our local dump or landfill when the children were small. (If you listened to the song above, good luck getting that earworm out of your head!)
We used to load our trash into barrels (old 55-gallon glue barrels my husband got free from the wood products factory where he worked) on the back of our truck. That was always a major chore/undertaking. We even took our dog. Stuart would say, “Jump, Wendy,” and she would excitedly jump onto the back end and he’d close the tailgate. She adored a trip to the dump.
As our family grew, the dump was sometimes a place we would even find toys such as a very small merry-go-round, or metal for some project my husband was working on—this was in the days when scavenging was actually allowed. It was gross though, rummaging through stuff. I was secretly very glad when they put a stop to that.
On a recent visit to our greatly updated landfill, a young woman working at the recycling bins surprised me.
“How long have you been recycling?” she asked amicably. I knew she was doing “community service” work (likely for getting into some kind of trouble). The workers are usually teens and their role is basically to straighten out things put in the wrong container, and clean up scraps people accidentally leave behind.
Usually, they don’t interact with me so I was pretty stunned that she opened a conversation. I started figuring. “Oh, probably close to 40 years now,” I said, recalling that widespread recycling came into the picture somewhere in the 80s.
She expressed surprise and I would have loved to talk to her longer but I didn’t want to infringe on her privacy or time. I wanted to ask if she knew whether the recycled items actually made it to a place that recycled them, or if they were just dumped in the landfill, as the rumor goes.
Unfortunately, I do understand that as little as six to nine percent of the plastics that are placed in recycling bins get recycled due to various factors: some get incinerated, some is too dirty or contaminated with food scraps etc. and is not usable. Plus, some of the higher numbers of plastics beyond type 1 and 2 get mixed in with the 1’s and 2’s which means the recycling center has to reject it for their purposes. Cardboard and newspaper have a much higher rate of being recycled, something like 68 percent according to Judith Enck, a former U.S. Environmental Protection Agency official.
I’m glad that many children seem to be interested in recycling. One day our four-year-old grandson was walking with us to our car from an impromptu picnic near my office (at the time). James swooped down to pick up a piece of litter on the sidewalk. I appreciated his concern and effort, but was a bit appalled at the dirt and germs.
Recycling pop cans (either glass bottles or aluminum) was part of early recycling. As a kid my husband remembers going to summer carnivals or “lawn parties” as we call them here in Virginia, and picked up bottles and got paid for each one he turned in. I also remember the days when Scouts would canvas neighborhoods collecting newspapers to recycle.
Most of us could do better, at least recycling water bottles and other plastic containers at home numerous times. For instance, refill and reuse the same water bottle, or store leftovers in things like sour cream or cottage cheese containers. That saves money and plastic. I recently noticed that my favorite jars of Kirkland mixed nuts—a treat I only dare keep in my pantry at Christmas—are now packaged in reusable “pouches” or bags made of 30 percent post-consumer recycled content. It will be interesting to see what develops in years to come.
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What do you recycle? Where? What do you wish was recyclable?
What do you know/can you share about what gets re-used as post-consumer waste
and what gets pushed into a landfill? I’m curious!
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Or for more information online go to www.how2recycle.info.
Comment here or write to me at anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for November 25, 2022
Thanksgiving Leaves
This year for the first time in about 16 years, I raked a couple of baskets of leaves in our front yard a week or so before Thanksgiving.
Why the lapse of time? After moving to a new home about 15 years ago and planting several trees in our front yard, we finally have trees big enough to make a couple baskets of leaves. Somehow the strong winds from the southwest corner of our property that normally blow the leaves northeasterly (out to the hay field) didn’t hit at the right time. Or whatever.
I didn’t mind raking them, and if you read my recent column, you know my husband is not exactly in any condition to rake leaves at the moment. In earlier years he would mow any leaves we did have and shoot them out toward the hayfield as well.
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I’m not a big fan of battery or gas tools for my outside work, and the raking exercise quickly transports me back to the days when we raked a high pile (at our first home) and then called the kiddos to come jump in them. Is there anything more delightful as a child unless it is making snow angels or snowmen?
More on a different kind of “leaving.” As we age, we are saddened with the memories this particular fall holiday brings: the year that my sister-in-law’s father died while hunting which of course wrecked the holiday for them and all of us. I remember arriving at her house anticipating her normal sumptuous Thanksgiving dinner and someone hurried out to tell us the sad news, to warn us of the Barbara’s huge loss. We were all still young and stricken with the reality and pain she was experiencing in the loss of her father on one of the best holiday weekends of the year.D
Many years later, our son-in-law also lost his father to cancer the week of Thanksgiving. I am saddened with two church members’ deaths last week (on the same night) and of course sickened by the recent shooting of three football players in the nearby city of Charlottesville, Va.
We also take nervous glances at the house across the road where our beloved neighbor man is likely closer to heaven with each day. His wife too. But what can we do? Their daughter-in-law tells me stories of her own memories of too many loved ones dying on or near Thanksgiving. I ask if there is anything we can do for her in-laws. Her father-in-law has been like a second Dad for my husband these last 15 years. “Just pray,” she says. Yes, we can do that and we know there is power in prayer to somehow lift people above their grief and exhaustion as they seek to provide home care for these folks in their mid-nineties.
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This was to be my Thanksgiving column and I am sure we’re not the only ones in the same boat, feeling loss and anxiety and pain. Yet we also find deep gratitude within our spirits: a freezer and canning shelves stocked with food—some from our garden and nearby orchards. A warm home with plenty of stacked wood because of my husband’s vigorous wood cutting. Children and grandchildren and siblings and cousins we’ve been able to visit and cherish. Deep faith in the God who carries us all through the difficult times of stress, loss, and tears. We know that God has provided a heavenly home around a huge Thanksgiving table stretching across eternity.
May we focus on good thoughts with love and care over the Thanksgiving weekend.
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How did your Thanksgiving festivities go, or not? What did you learn or regret or ponder?
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Reminder: Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Comments or reflections? Share here or send to anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career: 43 Years Inside Mennonite Media.
Another Way for week of November 18, 2022
Doggone It!
Our dog is a mutt, really. If you’re not into dogs or pets, visit the next page or columnist.
Velvet is a mixed breed, but shows all the signs of an Australian Shepherd. But she’s only about 45 pounds and does not have the wavy hair typical of some Australian Shepherds.
But, when it comes to herding, she’s all there. We have learned much about her shepherding instincts as we’ve lived with her for the last eight years. Especially now—since a cat has reentered our lives this past January.
Velvet (dog) and Pumpkin (cat) get along quite well, but being a cat, Pumpkin doesn’t enjoy being bossed or nuzzled around too much. But they’ll lie down next to each other on the floor when the sun is streaming in our windows, especially during fall and winter.
Pumpkin enjoys going out in our garage (off our kitchen) to catch crickets (or once, a mouse). But she does not meow very loudly. When she wants back in the house, she meows softly. If we have the TV on, we don’t hear her. But the dog has keen enough ears to hear that meow. And Velvet begins barking saying: “Get her in, get her in, she wants in.”
“Okay, okay, Velvet, we’ll get her in, just hold your horses.”
And Pumpkin dashes in as soon as we open the door and the dog touches her nose to Pumpkin, which I assume is her way of marking kitty or territory.
From what I understand, this behavior is not unusual. If my husband and I hug each other, she starts barking. Is that jealousy? When our daughter calls on Sunday evenings and we talk for a half hour or more, Velvet stays quiet, but when we start saying our goodbyes to the grandsons and to our daughter, Velvet chimes in with her barks. Which the grandsons love! These boys have taken care of her frequently, (with their Mom and Dad’s help), when we have traveled through their state and needed dog sitters. She is a people dog.
In the evening if she really needs to go potty, she comes and nudges me on my hand, quite insistently. My husband doesn’t usually take her out, so it is always me she prods.
The historians and archaeologists tell us that dogs have been domesticated by humans for at least 23,000 years, maybe more or less depending on your source. I grew up on a farm and on most farms, dogs were only outside pets, who perhaps were allowed on a porch or dog house depending on weather or the owners. When my husband and I got married and moved from a trailer into our first house, my husband definitely wanted a house dog, partially as a watch dog but primarily as a pet. So I got used to that early on. Husband is also a huge cat person so we’ve had many different cats through the years, especially when our children were young.
I guess the biggest reason I’m writing about an old subject is that I have only (in the last year or two) become more aware of how dogs communicate with us. If she detects that we’re packing for a trip, she becomes quite anxious. Longer ago we had neighbors who could take care of her and we would leave her home. Now these neighbors are quite elderly and can’t take care of our pets. So, as mentioned above, our grandsons have dog-sat. We try to hide our packing until the last minute and she climbs three feet off the ground to load herself into our minivan.
And the “Doggone It” in my column title? Just as I was concluding my writing this piece on our smart and shepherding dog, she goes and gets herself sprayed by a skunk.
That’s just a little of life with an indoor/outdoor dog.
What have you learned about how pets or animals communicate? Any stories?
Share here or send to anotherwaymedia @yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career:43 Years Inside Mennonite Media. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of November 11, 2022
One Lone RN and an Awesome Therapist
We knew the shortage of hospital workers was real and acute. My husband’s surgery was not a life and death matter, and he’s now recovering nicely from his second knee surgery. But I can only imagine how frustrating and deadly the labor shortages have been in some places.
At 11 a.m. on a Saturday morning, a single RN was the lone visible staff person on our end of the hospital’s large hall for hip and knee replacement surgeries. And we were itching to go home!
His surgery went smoothly, the doctor was optimistic. But we made the mistake of accepting a Friday surgery, for which we checked in at 10:15 a.m. By that time the doctor’s schedule had been slowed with two other knee surgeries. My husband’s surgery edged later and later. This meant he wasn’t returned to his room until about 3 p.m. that afternoon. He was still hazy from anesthesia and a spinal block. And by that time, most of the physical therapists at the hospital were either busy or getting ready to go home. Which meant his first therapy session and walk down the hall would wait until the next morning. So, he bent and stretched his leg himself, which was almost painless due to the lingering effects of a spinal block.
On Saturday, we took note of the sign in the room which said most discharges would happen by 11 a.m. But it was almost 11 by the time any therapist even came for him, and lasted about an hour. The lone RN was tasked with making sure patients on both ends of the hall would be getting the right medications for home. My husband had seven different prescriptions, which all had to be entered in the patient’s record.
Meanwhile, patient and wife were growing increasingly impatient and just wanting to go home. A dog and cat were anxiously waiting, we knew. We had thought we would easily be home by 12:30 or so, but it got later and later. We began to rumble loudly about our predicament, along with our stomachs. Where were other staff? Few and far between, which I guess is normal for a Saturday.
The nurse (who overheard us, I’m sure) had a nearly impossible job to finish: pages of electronic paperwork as well as thoroughly explaining to us and other patients what they would need to do to change the bandage, when to take medicine and when not to. The nurse also was dealing with a patient with memory problems at the other end of the hall. She was visibly frustrated using a neck device to call for a wheelchair for hubby’s departure: the neck device was like getting put on hold with a cell phone or other company. Waiting endlessly.
We tried to be more understanding but it was hard not to get upset and anxious about when we could go home. It is almost always harder to get checked out of a hospital, in our limited experience, than in. So be it. In the end, we apologized for mumbling and complaining so loudly. She was almost a saint in understanding and forgiving us regarding our frustration. I’m sad now I didn’t get her name.
So we made it home by 3 p.m. and the dog and cat were, of course, just fine. We are extremely grateful for the care of skilled nurses, CNAs, doctors, housekeepers, cooks, and custodians.
Back in the beginning of the pandemic in March 2020, I wrote here how Stuart’s knee surgery then was hampered by his chosen physical therapy place being completely closed down because of the pandemic and all patients were dismissed. Luckily, after three weeks we were able to find a different physical therapy place which suited him very well. The therapist helped him get back to almost full use of his right leg. We’re very thankful and his recovery on his left leg is going very well.
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Have you or a loved one ever had a long wait to be released–or admitted–to a hospital?
Has your family experienced lack of staff in a hospital stay?
Comment here or send your hospital stories to anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career: 43 Years Inside Mennonite Media. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of November 4, 2022
Getting Our Focus Where It Needs to Be
I was reading about athletes who approach their sport with a razor concentration that helps them be focused and aids their success. I envy that.
Think Serena Williams for one. I’ve picked a tennis player for illustration because they are able to hunch down and peer to the competition and totally focus their eyes on the opposing player, her racket, and tennis ball. A field goal kicker enjoys similar time out to kick the ball with great care with eyes absorbed on those goal posts—albeit with opposing fans yelling loudly.
An article on the BBC website called it a “quiet eye, a kind of enhanced visual perception that allows the athlete to eliminate any distractions as they plan their next move.”
David Robson, author of the article points out that the quiet eye phenomenon becomes active especially under moments or minutes of stress for the athlete. Some athletes experience what they call a “flow state” when they can block out the audience and concentrate totally on the game.
Most of us will never be that kind of athlete but all of us would also benefit greatly in using that kind of laser focus when we drive.
Yes, drive. What is the biggest threat to your life? Heart attack? Worries about cancer? A stroke? Yes, all of these are possible bad curves in life’s road but what do most of us take risks with every day of our lives? What is worth paying more attention to if we want to live long and happy lives with our family and friends?
Keeping a razor focus when we are driving. Especially if we are beginners and definitely as we age.
Okay, most of us, young and old, do what we shouldn’t do: we may risk an occasional text while waiting at a stoplight, glance at GPS directions, talk on the phone, drink coffee, change radio stations, and let our minds wander to everything imaginable. And we take our own lives and those of others into our own hands.
I wrote about this topic years ago (while my mother was still living) and suggested an idea that had popped into my head, and that is to perhaps use driving time to pray for our neighbors as we go by their homes. My mother called me up short on that one, writing me a letter exclaiming that she needs to use all her focus on driving. She was absolutely right. Our focus should be on our driving—especially as we get older.
That was good advice from Mom. I always remember Dad’s advice too to keep a roving eye on the rearview mirror, the side mirrors, and of course the vehicles in front of you.
Think about it: What is the biggest threat to your life? What do most of us take risks with every day of our lives? Our vehicles! Including the increasing numbers of bicycles—and bicycle lanes—on our highways.
Which brings me to another point. We live on a lovely back road complete with hills that challenge a cyclist and also thrill them when they get to the top for an exhilarating ride downhill. Friends often cycle together and even side by side, sometimes waiting far too long to drop back and ride single file while a motorist tries to navigate curves and hills and oncoming traffic. Yes, car drivers need to keep all of us safe by observing posted rules and bike lanes, and practice much patience while waiting for an opportunity to pass. But blessed are the cyclists who do not travel side by side unless they are very sure the road is empty of motorists. I used to walk on back roads and would always stop my hike, get off the macadam, and wait while cars passed, for my safety and theirs.
In the weeks ahead as we may be driving and thinking about Thanksgiving and Christmas plans and all there is to do, let’s also focus on the drivers and pedestrians around us and prayerfully keep everyone safer and saner. And please for your own good and ours, avoid road rage!
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What works for you regarding safe driving? Tricks? Practices?
Pet peeves about drivers? Or driving?
Share here or send stories privately to anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
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