You Came To Me Last Night

I saw you last night and it was so real.  I had to hold my breathe and not blink.
Cautiously approaching so that I wouldn't ruin the moment, I got closer for a better look.  I knew it was you and just couldn't believe it.  I have missed you so badly and thought I would never have this chance.  It felt like a miracle.

I wanted time to stop right there so I could just stare at you.  One of those moments when everything freezes except yourself.  I needed to examine you from all angels.  I wanted to reach out and touch you.  I wanted to feel if this moment was real and never have it leave my sight.

So with trepidation, I knelt down in front of where you were sitting and called your name softly to see if you heard my voice.  I took your hands in mine and they felt warm.  I kissed them and smelled your familiar scent.  I placed my head gently on your lap and wept.

I felt you stroking my hair.  I swear it felt so real I almost fainted.

At that moment, I was completely hypnotized and could not move.  I did not want to move.

I never wanted to know anything other than what I felt was true.

"Did you see me, too?   Did you know it was exactly what I needed?"

Come back and see me tonight and every night, please!  You just don't know what this moment has meant to me.

Come back, I'll always be here.

Cathy Windham

4/24/13

Running Away

Running Away

Aquamarine water laps at the shore with a slow rhythmic pulse along with the transistor
radio playing Motown hits.
It's time to turn over, Denise tells herself under the cover of her sun hat. She reaches for her bikini strap and fastens the ties behind her neck and stands to adjust the lounge
chair. Out on the horizon she can see a cargo ship. Closer in there are a few swimmers on floats. Walking down to the waters edge the temperature of the air is noticeably cooler.
Her painted toes wiggle in the foam as a wave washes over her feet and she is instantly cooled. Denise decides to stroll through the shallow surf along the beach toward the pier.
She sees some people on the pier at the end pointing to something in the water and wonders what it is that has caught their attention.

Stopping as she reached the base of the pier she can make out some divers have surfaced among the pillars at the far end. By this time there is a siren that is getting closer and several police cars and an ambulance have come to a halt at the dunes. Officers in uniform reach the waters edge just as the divers pull the lifeless body of a young girl out of the surf. The Medical Examiner places a white cloth over the girl's body after she was placed onto a gurney and taken away in the ambulance. The lights do not flash. All Denise can do is
stand still with her hands up to her mouth and look in shock at what she had just witnessed.

Turning back toward her lounge chair she decides she will leave early today. What just happened made her feel nauseated. She gathered up her things and walked back up to the boardwalk to her bike. A television camera crew was interviewing one of the people that had been out on the pier. It'll be on the six o'clock news, she thinks.

The beach cruiser tires are sand crusted and make a gritty sound as she pedals along the side road toward her cottage. She chains the bike to the fence and goes up to the porch sits down on the step and washes her feet off with the hose and dries them on her towel.
She can't get the picture of that girl out of her head. The diver had her cradled in his arms but her lifeless arms hung down and her head was bent back over his arm. Long blonde wet hair dripped a cascade of water as she was lifted up out of the surf.

Mrs. Willow from next door came outside and greeted Denise. " Hi sweetheart, how was the beach?" "Oh my gosh, you won't believe what I just saw!" Denise tells her as she walks
over to the fence. "Divers just pulled a girl out of the surf who was dead!" she told her.
"Oh, I'll bet that is the Thompson girl that went missing a few days ago. Did she have long blonde hair and was maybe sixteen?" Mrs. Willow asked. "Yes, that is the way she looked."
Denise said. "What happened, do you know?" she asked. "I just heard some ladies at the grocery store saying they were looking for her and that they thought she had run away from home. Poor child. I heard her parents had split and were drug addicts. Apparently she was staying with an aunt nearby who wasn't much better, either."

Denise hung her head and couldn't help but feel upset and angry at hearing that. " Come on over and sit a minute. I have something I've been holding in a long long time and never told anyone before now." Denise told her neighbor. Mrs. Willow was the mother she wished she had when she was young. They got along well and could talk about just about anything.
She herself had run away once from home at about the same age. She proceeded to tell Mrs. Willow what her experience had been. Memories came out of hiding.

She and her mom fought about everything and anything. They could not see eye to eye. Her mother liked to stay out late and then bring strange men home. More than once, Denise confronted a strange man in the kitchen or sitting out on the porch smoking. She hated that her mother felt it necessary to always have a man in her bed. One night Denise heard loud arguing coming from her mother's room. She got up just as the door to her bedroom flew open and her mother quickly came in and slammed and locked the door behind her. "Quick, jump out the window!" There was blood all over her shirt.
Not knowing what to think, Denise opened the window and fled outside and down the street to her friend Mary's house. She could hear sirens blaring within minutes and getting closer until she realized they were at her house! She and Mary stood in the front yard and held each other and cried as she saw a body on a stretcher put into the ambulance.
Mary's parents went to speak to the police. They told the officer that Denise was with them but the police said she would have to go with them and have her give her account of what had happened. Denise sat in the back of the squad car in her pajamas and turned to watch Mary crying with her patents embracing her.

Denise sat in shock in the counselor's office. Looking down at her hands she picked at her nails. She had no shoes on and someone had given her a blanket to wrap around her.
"Denise, I'm officer Davis. Tell me exactly what happened tonight." she asked her.
"I got home from the school basketball game at about 10:30 pm and saw a old green car parked out front of our house. I went up to the porch and there was a man I never saw before sitting on the swing smoking. Mother was inside in the kitchen and got to the door right about then. She had some chips and salsa and two beers for them. Then I went
inside to my room." "Did your mother introduce the man to you?" "Yes, she said his name was Sam. They had met at the bar over on Dewey St. The country one that has the wagon wheel out front. Mother had her cowboy boots on with her sun dress so I guess that's where she was while I was at the game." Denise said.
"You never saw this man before? Are you sure?" Officer Davis repeated. He had a picture of you as a baby and your mother in his wallet." She opened the wallet and showed
Denise the photo. It was old and stuck to the plastic sleeve that held it. On the back it said
Denise age 1 and Marlo May 30, 1980. Denise looked at it in disbelief. She did not know this man but it seems for certain he knew her and her mother. She wondered if that was her real father. His drivers license picture showed a semi-balding dark haired man with a goatee. It said he lived in Myrtle Beach, S.C.

Denise and her mother had gone to Myrtle Beach several times when she was little.
She would play in the sand while her mother lay out in the sun getting a tan. Men were always attracted to her and coming up to sit and talk to her. Sometimes she would ask one of the men to rub suntan lotion on her back. They never said no. She remembers men walking with them carrying the chairs and towels and mother kissing them goodby. Sometimes mother would call a babysitter to stay all night with her so she could "go on a date with someone she met at the beach." Denise hated that part because the babysitter was usually mean or ignored her. One time a babysitter let her boyfriend come over to the house and get in bed with her! She told me to shut up and never tell or she would say I was really bad and I'd get a spanking. One time the babysitter left me in the house while she and her boyfriend went to a party a few houses away. A teenager came to the door asking for them and tried to come inside but I had the chain on so he couldn't get in. I tried to act sick and see if mother would stay home with me, but she just told me to go to bed and went out anyway.
I figured I would leave one day but didn't know how or when. It became an obsession.

Denise started to stash things she would need like clothes and money in an old suitcase out in the shed.
When she was certain no one would miss her for hours, she climbed out her window and just started walking toward the highway heading out of town.

At the junction of the road she stuck out her thumb to hitch a ride away from her
hell. A few cars passed without stopping. She started to walk. After an hour she sat on the suitcase and rested. Just then a pick up pulled over and the lady told her to get in.

She stepped up into the cab after throwing the suitcase in the back. "Where are you headed, sweetie?" "Anywhere away from here" she sighed. "How far can you take me?"
"I'll have to drop you off at the next town which is twenty miles is that ok?"
"Sure," Denise said looking out the window.
Before she knew it, the truck stopped and she got out. "Thanks!" she said.
"You be careful, honey. Some people might not be so nice. You could get hurt." Denise closed the door and said "Yeah, but it's a wonder I wasn't hurt at home before now."

She found a dry area under the overpass up high. No one would see her up there.
She pulled on her sweatshirt and fell asleep cramped in the corner of the steel reinforcement column.

In the morning she made her way into the tiny town. A church was at the edge of the highway. She was greeted by the ministers wife coming out the front doors. "Are you lost, dear? Come on in here and sit down a minute." she told her. Denise climbed the few stairs and entered the church. She stayed quiet. "You don't have to tell me anything. Lets go out the other door where no one will see you. I have some breakfast ready and you can eat." Denise followed the woman into the house and sat at the table. The minute she finished eating, she rose got her suitcase and thanked the lady and left. The lady jotted down her description of the girl and decided not to disclose their meeting unless asked.

As the days and weeks wore on, Denise felt confidant she was not reported as missing. She lied about her age to get a job waiting tables. She didn't know a soul and the customers were random travelers. Most were headed south to Florida. One afternoon another girl
close to her age came in and ordered lunch. She said she was headed to Daytona
for Spring break. "Wanna go?" she asked. "Sure!" Denise said. She gathered her tip money and walked out as she had already been paid for the week. She had been staying at the homeless shelter but found it hard to rest there. She slept fully clothed huddled in the corner.

"My name is, Christine, what's yours?" she asked as they climbed inside the
faded blue VW bug. "Hi, I'm, Denise." she said while closing the door and rolling down the window. Reaching behind her neck she gathered her hair into a ponytail and fastened it with a rubber band she kept on her wrist. "It's pretty hot today." she added.

They started out on the side road that led to I95 South. Construction crews
worked on one if the lanes and traffic was slowed to a crawl.

Christine asked how come Denise was so eager to leave with someone she didn't even know. Denise just shrugged her shoulders and pulled out some gum. "Want some?" "No, it sticks to my fillings!" Denise wadded up the foil wrapper and put it in the ashtray. "Do you care if I take a nap?" she asked. "No, go ahead. Looks like we're going nowhere fast" Christine responded. She turned on the radio and switched to a country music station. Conway Twitty was singing "Hello Darling."
She wiped the tears from her eyes as she listened because it was one of her favorite songs.
They crawled along the highway for several miles and she turned off at the rest stop. Denise woke up to see Christine heading to the bathroom area. "Guess I better go, too." she thought and got out of the car and followed. Christine was waiting for her inside and pulled out a gun and pointed it at Denise. "This is as far as you're going! Give me your
money or I'll shoot you right here!" she sneered.
"I only have fifty bucks that I just got paid, I swear!" Denise quivered. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the cash and handed over the crumpled bills. Christine grabbed the money and ran toward the car and took off leaving Denise shaking and crying.

Denise had no idea where she was and had no one who cared where she was either. Slowly she walked outside to make sure Christine was gone for good.
That night she slept in one of the bathroom stalls with the door locked. She would pull her feet up off the floor so no one would know she was there. She barely slept while hugging her knees.

In the morning she washed up in the sink. She decided she would just wait there and hopefully the Police or a State Trooper would pull in.
Later that day she saw a squad car pull someone over and make them stop at the rest stop parking area. She waited until the officer was done and then she approached him. "My name is Denise Mitchell and I ran away from home about a month ago from Savannah, GA. Can you help me?" The officer had her sit in the back of the squad car while he ran her information over the microphone to the dispatcher. There was no missing persons report for anyone by that name. He told her he would take her to the juvenile center for now.
She could get help there. She told him about Christine robbing her and all he said was that she is lucky she didn't shoot her. Run away kids usually end up hurt or even killed.

At the center Denise was taken to a large room with several bunk beds up against the walls. Plain white sheets, a pillow and gray blanket were at the foot of the bed.
"Make up your bed, wash up and come into the cafeteria when you are done. Dinner is at five thirty sharp!" the attendant told her.

She sat at the end of the picnic table alone and opened the milk carton.
She hated milk but was so thirsty she didn't care. The meatloaf and macaroni
and cheese were ok and she ate it all. The others in the room looked her over. Heading back to the bunks she was cornered by a huge girl who poked her finger in her stomach and pretended to pull a trigger. "Better not sleep or I'll kill you." she whispered. Denise almost threw up from the smell of the girl. She decided she would leave as soon as she could. The next morning the group was supposed to go out to the courtyard after breakfast. Denise told the custodian she had an upset stomach and had to go to the bathroom. Once there, she crawled out the window and made her way from the grounds and into the wooded area. She crawled through the thick underbrush until she got to the railroad tracks.
Scratched and dirty she brushed off her clothes and walked along the tracks.
She didn't care what direction she was heading but figured it was south from the moss that grew on the trees on the opposite side from the way she was headed.
A freight train came along and was going pretty slow. Slow enough for Denise to
grab the bar and get onboard and crawl inside the open box car. She did not dare fall asleep and kept a close lookout to try to figure out where she was.

The train came to a stop that night in an area where there were several other trains sitting idle. She jumped down and made her way toward the nearby gas station. She recognized where she was and very close to home. By morning she arrived and walked up the steps of her front porch. Her mother was asleep entwined in a mans arms and didn't even twitch as Denise flopped into her bed fully clothed, tired and filthy.

By the time she woke up, the day had passed and the sun was setting. Her mother was sitting out on the porch as Denise opened the screen door and sat down on the step. "What happened to you?" her mother asked while taking a long drag on her cigarette. " I ran away and almost got killed a couple of times." Denise said sarcastically.
"I'm sick of my life here and I'm sick of you not giving a damn about yourself or me!" Denise yelled.
"One of these days you aren't going to be so lucky, mother! You're going to be killed or kill someone yourself!" Denise sobbed. She sat there glaring until she got up the nerve to ask one more question.

"Who is my father?" Denise demanded to know with a voice barely audible. "His name was, Sam." her mother said as she got up to go inside and the screen door slammed behind her.

Cathy Windham
4/6/13

The Basement

The Basement

When we moved to Virginia in 1960 my dad bought a house.  The home was a small brick house located on a street at the rear of the subdivision.  Behind the development was

a valley and creek.  Power lines ran along the valley floor.  On the far side was a wooded ridge.  No one could build long the valley.  It was in a secure spot in a suburb of Washington D.C.  The home had a small kitchen and an open L shaped space for the dining room and living room.  Large picture windows gave a commanding view of the valley.

The top level had three bedrooms and one and a half bath and wooden floors.

Stairs led down to a recreation room with fireplace another bedroom and half bath.  Behind the recreation room was a basement that ran the full length of the house and was built into the hillside.  The basement walls were concrete block.  At the  far end  there was space for a washer and dryer and deep sink.  There was a small window above the sink which was just above ground level outside and had a window well.  At the far end was space for a refrigerator.

It never dawned on me why my father chose this house until I was an adult and understood better the plights he had endured during WWII and the current security measures being taken at the time.  President Eisenhower had allocated funds to the CIA in order to overthrow Castro's empire in Cuba.  The newly elected President Kennedy also endorsed the plan.  The Bay of Pigs invasion was being orchestrated and my father was stationed at the Pentagon.  Although the mission failed to overthrow Castro we were in a very vulnerable position for an attack on US soil by missiles aimed at the Capitol and various military installations like the Pentagon. 

I was in the fourth grade.  At school we had routine bombing raid drills.  These were conducted similar to fire drills but instead of going outside and away from the building we ducked under our desks or were taken into the interior hallway and instructed to crouch down and put our arms crossed over our heads.

Daddy secured our basement.  I always attributed his overstocking of food and supplies to the fact that he had been a starving POW in Japan during WWII.  Well I suppose that was true in part.   The  other reason was because of this real threat to our freedom.

In any unfinished basement there are wall studs.  Between these studs he drilled holes

and threaded flat wire between them.  He had the perfect shelves to line with canned goods.  We had everything from canned meat, hash, stew, soup, beans, corn, hominy, peas, beets, peaches etc.

At the end where the washer and dryer were he had several metal lockers lockers.  In them he stored dry goods like powdered milk infant formula in large cans.  Cases of  C-rations were also stacked there.  On the opposite end we had two refrigerators that held all perishables.

There were more lockers full of various survival supplies from first aide to linens.

We had cots and blankets, too.  In the center on both sides of a narrow  isle he stored everything else like his work bench and tools and footlockers of various other belongings

and clothing.  It was full to the brim with anything one would need to survive a full attack!  Elsewhere he stored firearms that could outfit a brigade.

People including myself shook their heads at the sight of our basement.  Why would we need all that "junk?"  We lived in the mightiest nation on earth.  

We enjoyed freedom  and democracy that he had fought hard for.

The USA was churning out cars and homes as fast as people would buy them.  Supermarkets were full of every product you could imagine.  Kids had toys and nice clothes on their backs.

The economy was booming.

One would describe him as being paranoid in a way.  But none of them had tried to survive on a spoonful of rice a day and walked the Bataan Death March like he did.  None suffered malaria and dysentery like he had.  He knew what needed to be done and he did it.  He took nothing for granted.

When you look back at the big picture and realize the atrocities he endured as a POW you come to know and understand why he would be this way.  How could he have ever survived had it not been for being prepared?  How could he have ignored what was happening in the world?  How would that directly impact his family?  

The basement was going to help us survive.  We would be prepared.  Did we end up needing it? No.  But I sure am grateful that my dad had us protected against all odds.

Cathy Windham

3/23/13

Walking in his memory at the Bataan Memorial Death March in Chesapeake, VA

on 4/27/13

I'll Walk You a through It

I'll Walk You Through It

Forty Years Of NursingTidbits You might Need Someday

Years of preparation and intervention has gone into what I am about to tell

you.  It's no guarantee by a long shot, but It's important things to know

ahead of time.  That time before you become worried about needing surgery.

Surgery can be a scary thing.  Your doctor says something needs to be fixed and surgery

is what you need.  It does not matter that a procedure is small or large.  You are trusting another person to fix what is wrong.

Meeting your surgeon.  This can be a daunting affair.  You will have a consultation in the office or maybe even in the hospital.  This person is usually selected by yourself or by a recommendation.  In some cases, it may be just whomever is On Call for that day for surgery.  The meetings will be brief and you may not leave feeling confidant.

The same goes for your Anesthesia doctor.  The consultation will be short and to the point.

The doctor will outline for you the necessity of the surgery and the risks involved.

He or she will tell you if there will be an incision or if it can be done laparoscopically.

The usual recovery time expected and the options available should be discussed.

It is then up to you to either accept, decline or seek another opinion.  Research is key to your recovery.  Have someone help you find out more information.  You can do this online or through the library.  Most offices will give you a pamphlet of information but it may not tell you enough.  This is when you need to start asking questions.  Write them down

and make sure you ask them before making your decision!

Read the consent.  This does not mean skim over it and sign on the line.  This is a legal document of authorization.  In it there are many disclaimers.  You have a right to understand fully and refuse any part of the consent.  

Get a Living Will done before you have surgery.

Having a designated Health Care Surrogate is essential.  Even the easiest surgeries can have unforeseen complications.  This document is available at any hospital, surgery center or your lawyer's office.  It can be changed at any time to designate your wishes if you are unable to make those healthcare related decisions on your own.  Most people don't want to be kept alive on various machines.  If this is you, get it in writing!

Present it upon admission.

Know your medical history.

This information is vital to your survival.  Do not rely on someone to know this for you!

Who knows yourself better than you?  Write this information down.  Keep a copy with your Living Will.  

Things to include:

Age                   Medications- names, doses, frequency

sex                     Medical conditions- Heart, B/P, Diabetes, Kidney Disease, Respiratory.

weight               Previous surgeries- what and when

height                Implants- Joint replacements, ports, pacemakers, shunts

Allergies           Complications of any kind during any previous surgery ie: bleeding,

                              breathing problems, infection

Do what you are told.  Do not take shortcuts when your health is at stake.

In other words, when you are told NOT to eat or drink past a certain hour, it means just that!  Drinking and eating before surgery is extremely risky.  While under the effects of anesthesia, you may get stomach content into your lungs.  This can kill you.

The likelihood of aspirating is greatly reduced on an empty stomach.  Trying to save your life will be a nightmare for your medical staff if you take this simple instruction for granted.

Do all necessary preps.  This means showering with the antibacterial soap as instructed.

Do NOT shave your body hair at home.  The reason it is done preop in the hospital is because your razor will cause micro abrasions or a cut which can introduce infection.

The clippers the hospital uses will not do this.  Let them do it. If you have to do an enema, DO IT!  A clean bowel means less risk for you.

Come to your Pre-OP appointment!  You will meet with a screening nurse who will

go over all instructions and give you a detailed medical interview.  Bring the above documents I mentioned Consent, Living Will, Personal Health History, lab orders.  In addition,  bring all forms from your doctor's office.  The day of surgery is not the time to remember you left your consent on the kitchen table at home.

This interview is not meant to upset you.  It is specifically meant to catch any other information that is needed to get you ready.  Any referrals to another doctor for Medical, Cardiac or Respiratory clearances is essential to ensure you are going to get through your surgery without problems.

Once all the needed documents are in order you will be able to proceed.

On the day of surgery arrive at the time told.  There are many other patients who may be going to surgery at the same time as you are.  Adequate time is mandatory ahead of time to get you and all others ready on time.  The medical staff does not want to rush and neither do you!  

The reason no underwear is allowed in surgery should be obvious but it is because frequently a person will soil themselves under anesthesia.  If so, we can clean you up easier.

Underwear is going to be in the way and will not be available for you to wear home when discharged.  In the OR you need only you and no other contaminated articles.

No jewelry is allowed to be worn.  Metal is an electrical conductor.  You can be burned

when equipment is used during surgery.  Remove it.  Yes, belly button rings, tongue studs, earrings, ankle bracelets and toe rings, too!

Do NOT bring valuables to the hospital.  This should speak for itself, but expensive jewelry,

money and a wallet full of credit cards needs to be monitored at your home or by someone you designate to take care of them.

Bring  equipment that is asked of you to bring.  C-Pap machines are in frequent use at home and the mask is designed for your face.  After surgery you may have to use YOUR own mask while coming out from under anesthesia.  You are at a much higher risk of sleep apnea up to 48 hrs after surgery and beyond while taking pain medication.  Give machine to your Pre-Op nurse. They will ensure it is in the Recovery Room on your arrival and ready to use if needed.

You will have an intravenous line inserted.  It is not easy to thread a needle into a vein.  Your nurse is very skilled but sometimes more than one attempt is needed.  Dehydration and previous medical conditions make this task most challenging.  When you are allowed to drink before surgery and before your cut off time, drink as much water as possible.  It will really help you and your nurse!

Read your Post-Op instructions and place them where you can refer to them and have readily available should you need to call the doctor.

Practice a few old school things at home.  

Learn how to deep breathe.  Inhale through your nose as deeply as possible.

Hold that breathe and then exhale through your mouth.

Do this at least three times in a row.

On the last exhale, forcefully make yourself cough.

This will help open up your lungs and allow oxygen to enter your bloodstream.  It will also facilitate secretions to move up and out of your airway.

If you smoke, now is the perfect time to quit!  You will recover quicker and coughing after surgery is always uncomfortable.  Your body needs oxygen to heal.   Pneumonia is always a threat.

Turn over at least every 2 hours.  Seeking another position will alleviate pressure spots

and help your circulation.  Position as necessary with pillows.

Get up out of bed as soon as possible and allowed.  Sit up on the side of the bed.  Sit in a chair several times a day.  Ask for assistance before doing anything.  A change in your blood pressure upon standing can cause you to faint and fall.  Walk with assistance.  Use devices as instructed.  Wheel chair, walker or cane with someone next to you.  Falls are the number one complication after a surgery.  A sense of euphoria can cause one to think they are not at risk but it precisely the most dangerous time for an accident to occur.

Take your medication appropriately.  Do not increase your dose without authorization from your doctor.  Drink plenty of fluids.  Rest afterwards and do not do activities which may affect your safety.  Do not drive, drink alcohol or operate machinery when taking pain medication. 

Eat.  This is not the time to diet.  You need food that is good for you.  Nothing spicy or greasy.  Lean protein, vegetables and fluids.  Keep it simple.  The easier to digest the better. Small frequent portions will keep you satisfied.  There will be less of a chance of vomiting when done slowly.  Start out on clear liquids then progress as allowed.  Your body is in high gear right now repairing itself.  

Resist the urge to peek under your bandage.  Unless you are having prominent bleeding there is no need to look.  Removing the initial bandage that was placed during surgery under sterile conditions only puts you at risk for infection.  When you are allowed to remove it you will be instructed to do so.  Wash your hands or have the person doing the task wash.  If you have to replace the bandage here is how.  Open all bandage packages ahead of time and lay them on a clean surface still inside their wrapper.  Apply gloves.  Redress wound and tape perimeter.  Do not get area wet until instructed by your doctor.  Do not apply anything to the incision unless ordered to do by your doctor.  Report any redness or drainage that is of concern or a smell.   Staples and sutures on the exterior of your skin will be removed by your doctor in 7-10 days.  Internal sutures will be absorbed.  Any tube for collection of drainage needs to be emptied every 4 hrs.  The volume and character of the fluid should be written down so that when you have to see the doctor for removal they will be aware.  Let them know if drainage is fast and needing emptying more than one time per hour.  

It is good for you to do small things around your home.  Do not lift or push anything.

Moving around helps with your circulation and helps prevent blood clots.

Utilize good posture when sitting or standing and walking.  Do not hunch over.

Walk slowly.

Once a few days have passed you will feel stronger and more capable of doing more activity.  Do not jeopardize your recovery by trying to do too much too soon.  You may experience a set back and even risk a return to surgery!

The body usually needs several weeks to months to recover from surgery fully.

Be patient.

Take care of yourself and your body will respond.

Cathy Windham RN

Turning Over A New Leaf

Turning Over A New Leaf

Visiting here  I'm reminded of many things that are very difficult to understand.  I wish I knew a way to try to explain it but, I feel as though I don't even belong here.  I look around this place wondering if I can get to the future from here.  I'll have to back up my mind to understand where I come.  

I wrote a little poem shortly after Jimmy died that was called:

I am a Widow

I have been many things in my life.  

Some given as a birthright such as a daughter.

I was a wife and mother through a conscious choice.

A Grandmother as a gift from my child.

My widowhood was laid at my feet like a dreaded

threshold.  It's span immense.  No possible way to take a detour.  

I knew it was on my horizon.

Just as sure as I knew I loved the person who 

presented me with this new title.

As I took my first step

into my new role,  I did not

know how I could possibly

make my way.

I still do not know and will

try to learn how to make the best of it.  

Only I will walk this path

in my shoes.

No one would ever want 

another to know how it feels to be a widow.

Cathy Windham

2/25/13

Coming to terms with the new title that I wear I didn't know really what was going on at the moment.  Friends of mine who have been widowed agree that there is very little said about this transition.  Learning how to live as a widow is something one must  learn to do alone.

These headstones represent soldiers that have gone before. 

They also represent the fact that there are many widows, too.  Women and men, too who feel like me.  Alone and numb.

I suppose I was no different than all others who have mourned the loss of their husband or their lover or their boyfriend.

I had some photographs taken that day in black-and-white.  It will  help keep the moment frozen in time so that my children and grandchildren and those beyond them will reflect for a moment and know that this was a significant part of my life, too.

I met Jimmy very young.  I was 18 and he was 23.  We began our lives together.  We enjoyed  every minute that we were together and worked hard.  

We truly love each other and had so much fun.  There are  so many things to remember that will help me get better as we go from the present into the future not knowing what's in store.

Depression can come over you like a big dark blanket and smother out your world.  Sometimes you feel as though you cannot breathe.  Sometimes you have to cry.  Other times you have to just be.  You find yourself staring at a photograph or not really being able to do anything constructive.

I know this is a phase.   This is a period of time that I do not know how long it will last.  I'm often reminded to live just one day at a time.  I need to slow down and feel what is  happening right now and make the best sound decisions for the present.  I wrote in a journal about my father after he passed away.  I was feeling a very strong compulsion to get some feelings out that were trapped inside me that I hadn't had enough courage to share with anyone.   I didn't keep journaling and  years later came across the small book.  I let my husband read it.  Why  is that we have to feel worthy of expressing ourselves?  Why do we think it's not worthy of someone else's time to know  our pain and what our fears have been?

So, as I reflect on how to best help myself deal with this enormous loss I guess I just have to back up my mind to a time when others existed some that that I didn't even know.  Recall stories repeated by my parents and look at old photographs of relatives to know who I really am today.

Looking through some old boxes after my mother passed away, I came across photographs that were of her growing up and some ancestors on both sides of the family.  The old black and white and sepia photos on paper and tin captured stiff poses and unsmiling faces.

My mother's family immigrated from Norway.  I don't know the exact year but they settled in northwest Minnesota in a little town called Ulen.

My grandmother Emily Fevig Syverson lived on a very small farm on the edge of the tiny town. She raised seven children on her own.  Mother's father was Charles Syverson.  I'm not sure exactly how long he stayed with the family but he  left them and started a new family in North Dakota.

This is very harsh country in northwest Minnesota.  It is very flat and very dependent on its agriculture to make ends meet.  I really don't understand how in the world granny managed to do that.  She was a very small statured woman.  Her demeanor was kind and sweet.  She had two sons and five daughters.

All of them attended the small elementary and high school in town.   Each one of them graduated.  That was something to be very proud of!

I remember mom telling us some stories about how she and her sister worked for a lady in town to help take care of their household and  earning extra money.  The boys tended to the fields and got other labor-intensive work.  They were always very respectful of their mother and helped her in any way  that they could to make ends meet.  They remained a close family.

I did not know my grandmother very long.  The first time I really recall her I was six years old.

We had moved to Ulen for a year in order for my mother to help her mother during the last year of her life while my father was in Turkey with the Army.

I attended first grade at the same school that my mother attended and when I think back on it now, I sure am privileged to have been able to do that.

After graduation mom went on to work outside the home.  She told me that she used to be a waitress at one time and that she had gone out to California with another sister and a brother to find work.

 I'm not quite certain how she met my father.  Maybe my brother or sister can remember that story.

On my dad's side of the family he had one brother.  His father died when my father was a young man so I never got to meet him.

My father's mother, Emma Hewitt, in comparison to my other grandmother, was the complete opposite.  She was of German decent.  Controlling behavior and opinionated.

I never got to really even know her either.  My grandfather died when my dad was young.

She had a couple sisters and a brother.  They were from a fairly well to do family in St. Paul, Minnesota and tam a butcher shop.

My father, Walter and his brother, Glen both attended the military Academy Creighton High.  After high school, my father attended the University Minnesota and  was then commissioned into the United States Army.

Mom, Nona Syverson and dad, Walter Hewitt got married in Iowa on their way to Fort Sam Houston,Texas for his duty station.

They got their wedding photograph made but never purchased a print until my father was captured as a POW.  My grandmother Emily encouraged my mother to purchase the print.  I never saw this photograph until after my father's death in 1993.  Mom said  it had just been too painful a period of time.

They had a daughter, Sandra that was born while they were in Texas.

They were then stationed in Manila, Philippines.

It was exotic there and mom told me later that they had quite an escapade arriving and learning about the local people and the environment.  It  was very enriching to learn their culture.

They purchased some very beautiful things from the Philippines.  Carved teakwood chests with a floral motif that depicted the local flair.

Delicate silk embroidered fabric.

At the beginning of the war mom and Sandra had to be evacuated back to the United States on a boat.  It was a long and brutal journey.

She arrived in California with Sandra and boarded a train to Minnesota.  Sandra was very sick along the way and had vomited all over herself and mom's only clothing.  It was a miserable trip for both of them.  I can only imagine what a horrific trip like that was much less with a two year old.

Mom and Sandra took refuge in St. Paul with daddy's mother.  They were allowed to stay out at the lake cottage.  The cottage was small.  Daddy and grandpa Hewitt had built it on the shores of Turtle Lake.  The winter was harsh and there was only a pot bellied stove to help keep them warm.  The lake froze and mom did not drive or have a car in order to leave the property.  My grandmother did not exactly make life very easy on my mom.  I often wondered why she just didn't live in town with her.  I once asked her about this and she told me that her mother-in-law never approved of her eldest, college educated, Army Officer son should have married a simple farm girl.  At that, mom moved out to the lake but when conditions were getting worse decided to go to Ulen and brave even worse weather conditions at her mother's home.

This is when grandma Syverson suggested she try to purchase their wedding photograph.

It was eighteen dollars.  Somehow they scraped up the money to buy it.  In it my father is wearing his military dress white uniform.  Mom is wearing a dress she made.  She told me it was a white brocade fabric and had royal blue velvet trim on the short bolero jacket.  Mom was a very talented seamstress and could knit anything, too.  She made us many dresses and knit several intricate Nordic patterned sweaters.

Mom stayed in Ulen while my father endured the fall of the Philippines.  He told us stories of painting his car a dark brownish green Army color then driving it through the jungle for the leaves and other debris to be imbedded on the surface.  Great camouflage!

He endured the Bataan Death March.  I did not know the atrocities of this event until many years later.  He once swallowed a small octopus with a head the size of a plumb.  He was choking on it and turning blue.  The Japanese  guard slapped him on the back and he managed to get it down whole and alive.  Daddy had stolen it from the small aquarium the Japanese man in charge had outside his building.  It's a wonder daddy wasn't killed for stealing but the guard did not see what he was choking on.  

Not long ago I came across some original documents of war crimes that were described by my father and several other prisoners of war that survived.  My father returned for the War Crimes Trial.  Several Japanese guards were sentenced to their deaths based on his testimony.  He spent years after the war helping former prisoners and those from the Philippines who had been commissioned into the US Army to obtain compensation for their valor.  There is a treasure trove of information I will need to read to fully understand

what he did to survive.  I find myself in tears after just a few pages read.  It will take time.

After the war was over and he came home, the local newspaper ran his story and homecoming with my mother.  It is a sweet article but hardly gives the one reading it the truth of the nightmares he had endured.  History already  being forgotten.

By the time the remaining four children were added to the family over the next fifteen years, you couldn't tell anything like that had ever happened to our family. 

We were launched by that time into the fifties and a booming economy.  Daddy

made the Army his career.  Mom made our home wherever we were stationed.

She was constantly adapting to different living conditions with five children.

Dad was away from home a lot.  Mom did not drive.  For the life of me I can not

relate to what she had to do compared to my life as a military wife.

So, reflecting on my parents and their upbringing and life experiences I can now look at myself in a different way.  My life was sheltered and I had not experienced the hardships and pain they had.  My future was their dream.  They made that happen for me.  I learned from them how to adapt and  how to parent.  Their gift of a better life than what they had was paid in full by their love. 

 I am a widow at the age of fifty-nine.  I should realize how very fortunate I have been my entire life.

I had never given that title a thought that it could ever belong to me before I was a much older woman.  How was I going to do this?  There are many days, weeks, months and years ahead for me to learn how to adapt.  I will do well.  I  know that there are others that have shown me what it takes to survive under much worse circumstances.  I have accepted my past.  It is up to me to accept my future, too.

Cathy Windham

3/27/13