The Big Dipper Version 2.0

Looking at "the Big Dipper version 1.0" - leaves me feeling very sad and takes me back to how powerless I felt much of that summer.  No matter how much research I did, how hard I worked at learning this new vocabulary of cancer, hospitals, doctor's offices, and nursing care, I could not save my dad.  How did I survive that summer?  Somewhere along the way, I learned the gift of gratitude and to be thankful for everyday treasures.

I found in that summer the other bright stars that were surrounding that Big Dipper's seven stars. Thinking about those stars (smaller stories) makes me smile now and made me smile then.  In the midst of that summer, I could pull out a moment of laughter and joy and hold on.

The Other Stars:

Twinkle Star #1 - May 13 - my parents were married 50 years.  A huge milestone considering some of the struggles they had been through.

Twinkle Star #2 - May 17 - we surprised them with a 50th Anniversary Celebration - friends and family showed up to tell them how special they were to them.  How grateful I am that these people had a chance to say those things to my mom and dad.  Thinking about it now, makes me tear up.  I did not know then it would be the last time many of them would see or speak to my parents.  My parents got to visit with their grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

Twinkle Star #3 - June 5 - my youngest daughter, Erica graduated from high school and my parents were part of the festivities.  They had a special bond with Erica as they helped me raise her from birth to age 2 1/2 yrs.  It is a happy memory to hold on to.

Twinkle Star #4 - June 15 - Erica wrecked my husband's mini-van and walked away without a scratch nor any harm to the driver that hit her.  How grateful we all were to have her healthy and whole.

Twinkle Star #5 - Late June/early July - My sister flies in to visit for a few days after Dad's diagnosis and we begin reconnecting.  She has lived in Louisiana for ten years and we have become strangers to each other. A new friendship and love begins to grow.  

Twinkle Star #6 - After July 20th official diagnosis of Mom's cancer, Katie flies back to town.  She stays to help Mom and Dad in their home and to help me with getting to and from the doctors' appointments. We have some wonderful conversations and share laughter and tears as we walk this out.  She flies back home once we get Mom started on her radiation treatments.

Twinkle Star #7 - August 13 - Dad's foot is amputated.  While he is in recovery, I run to the airport to pick Katie up. I bring her by the hospital so she could see him - even though he was not conscious when I left for the airport. As she and I prepare to say good night to Dad, the nurse asks who is staying the night with him?  No one had told me that this was required.  Katie stepped right into it. I am grateful that she was willing and able to do this.  I was exhausted from the past few days with Dad, Mom, doctors, and a fulltime job. I think I would have been pretty worthless to Dad that night.

Twinkle Star #8 - August 25 - Katie is still in town.  She agrees to step into my role while Eric, Erica and I take some time off to go school shopping for college. It was an amazingly wonderful day.  All my cares fell away and I spent the day with the two of them, laughing and shopping, talking about Erica's future, what was college going to be like for her.  How excited we all were for her to go off to college at Hollins University in Roanoke Virginia.  How proud her grandparents were of her.  Just thinking about it now, makes me feel good.

Twinkle Star #9 - August 28 - We leave that morning (after Katie's phone call at 7:30am about Dad) - for Roanoke.  We had made the decision that life is for the living and I knew from our conversations that Dad was looking forward to his girl going off to school.  He couldn't bear the thought of her missing the first day of college for him.  We arrive in Roanoke that evening and Erica is settled into her dorm.  We spend the next few days registering, paying tuition, buying furnishings for her dorm room, meeting her roommate and dorm mates, having dinner with her and them.  We leave her and head home on Sunday, August 31.
Katie and I meet with the funeral home and make all the arrangements for mom.  She is too ill and too depressed to come with us.

Twinkle Star #10 - September 4 - Mom paid for the grandchildren to fly home for the funeral.  I am grateful we were able to do this for them and for Mom.  All summer, Mom and Dad's friends and neighbors helped us.  Sometimes they met me half way with Dad or Mom to take them to doctors' appointments (my parents lived 35 miles from me and the doctors) - Other neighbors took card of their five acres - mowing and helping bring in the veggies from the garden. My father's last garden.  They visited Dad at the hospital.  I don't think Dad was ever alone. They helped Mom as much as she would let them.  The day of the funeral, I have no idea how many people showed up - 100+ easy.  The caravan to the cemetery had over 50+ cars.  My father had touched many lives.  He was a good man.

I am grateful Dad and Mom had so many people around them to love them when Katie and I could not be there.

My father died, August 30, 1997, age 71. My mother died February 3, 2001, age 74.  I learned a lot that summer about the importance of having a patient advocate when you are "really" sick.  I put it all to work to keep Mom alive for 3 1/2 years not the 24 months they had given her.  Mom was able to make multiple trips to Louisiana and spend time with Katie and her children.  We traveled together to Katie's son's wedding in April, 1998.  Mom got to meet and hold her third great-grandchild.  Mom attended the wedding of her oldest granddaughter with  two older sisters who flew in from Knoxville. It was the last time they would see her alive. 

The summer of 1997, my husband, Eric was my rock.  He walked beside me as I made hard decisions and ran myself ragged trying to save my dad.  He believed me when I told him I knew my father was going to have to have his other leg amputated.  Other family members and even the oncologist didn't believe me when I told them it was time to think of transferring Dad to hospice, but Eric believed me.  Thank you Eric.

So, I suppose that means there is a Big Dipper Version 3.0 - because the Summer of 1997 is not complete without all of these stars.  I did not include every thing or every one - it is only because this note would have been too long for anyone to read.  Each person who touched my life that summer helped carry me through.  

My hope is that in your darkest moments that you will look around for those other stars that they might help light your way through the dark.

*Chene' Swart of South Africa visited Cincinnati this spring.  She came to join us at A Small Group with Peter Block.  Chene' shared with us her work with "Narrative Therapy".  Here is my understanding of Narrative Therapy (NT) and how I have applied it to my life stories. NT shows us that we all have a story we tell ourselves about everything that has happened in our lives.  This story is created and somewhat determined by our age and level of maturity at the time of the event and our perceptions.  It does not mean it is not true, but it may not be the whole story.  For instance, when we look at the stars, many of us have learned to identify the constellations.  It doesn't mean there aren't other stars surrounding those constellations, but that the other stars are just not part of the constellation.

TEDxCincy - October 7, 2010

I’m very excited because TEDxCincy is happening on October 7.  (Cincy = Cincinnati, OH)

If you don’t understand my excitement, then perhaps you are not familiar with TED.com.  

Why am I excited?  Because the TED conferences that have been happening since the late 1980s has been geared to the elite and wealthy.  

In 2006, Chris Anderson made the decision to make the videos from these events public on YouTube.  Once he did that, it began to snowball.

What TED does is support and promotes innovation of all kinds.  TED stands for technology, entertainment, and design. Experts and innovators in all these fields compete to win a TED award. The award is $100,000 - but the real benefit is that you gain access to the TED community.  This community steps up and supports you in all ways.  You might need help with marketing - a new website - connections - the TED community can make all this happen for you.

Great ideas, inventions, and organizations that may have been floundering with no funding and no recognition gain all of that just by speaking at the TED conference.

Until Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor spoke at TED, no one knew who she was, the work she was doing with stroke victims, nor had any interest in her self-published book. Overnight she became a sensation - book publishers competing to publish her book, and interview on Oprah and more.

But the best part of TED for me has been the access to the YouTube videos. It has exposed me to ideas and people I would never have known about otherwise.  It has given me hope to know the great work being conducted all over the world to make this world a better place.  Very inspiring.

This article in the local Cincinnati SoapBox will help explain some of what a TED in Cincinnati will look like.

If you don’t live in Cincinnati, then go to the TED website and search to see if there is a TEDx coming to a city near you. They are popping up all over.

Hope to see you there. Thanks, Elaine

The Big Dipper - Version 1.0

To begin, close your eyes (well read this paragraph first) – imagine it is a beautiful clear, cool summer’s night. Look up into the sky at all the stars and the moon shining bright. Now, find the Big Dipper. Can you remember how you learned to find these seven stars and know they were the Big Dipper? Slowly open your eyes and I will you my story about those stars.


I started playing with the image of the Big Dipper after a friend shared the idea that the stars are stories. The Big Dipper is the Big Dipper because someone decided to connect those seven stars and give them a name (also called Ursa Major). That’s how the constellations came to be. Just as the constellations come from a story someone created to identify the night sky when traveling, so too we have stories about our lives.


It started me thinking about my stories. What were my stories about those seven stars? Each of those stars represents an event - a small story that created "The Summer of 1997" for me.


Star #1 - June 26 - my 71 year old father was rushed to the hospital because he was having trouble breathing. The diagnosis was terminal lung cancer. After more tests and visits to several doctors, we learned he had less than six months to live. How could that be? He seemed healthy. My dad walked three miles per day, square danced several times a week, and was very active in the VFW. All this, plus caring for the five acres and the huge garden they had. My sister, Katie and I were in shock. The marathon race had begun and we were late off the blocks. The grandchildren were devastated.


Star #2 - July 13 - now that we know our parents' family physician had misdiagnosed my father's ailments for some time (despite knowing my father had asbestosis), I finally convinced them to go to a new doctor. I took my parents to visit the new doctor. My mom went back first. She'd been having some back pain and her former doctor had told her it was arthritis. While my mom was still in the examining room, they had my father and I go back. I came along as my father was very hard of hearing. I acted as the interpreter because he could hear my soprano pitched voice.

As I walked down the hall, I passed Dr. W. – and asked how Mom was. He said he was more concerned about her then he was my dad. Yikes! A few days later, after re-running some tests, we learned that our mom had terminal cancer too. Multiple myeloma - they gave her less than two years to live.


The following weeks (and the rest of the summer) were multiple trips to multiple doctors and the hospital for Mom and Dad while still working a more than full time job. Katie, my sister, was in town and helped as much as possible. But, I wanted to be at every doctor appointment to ask my questions.


My father was having problems with his right foot which involved seeing a specialist for that, too.


Star #3 - August 13 - because of complications from the lung cancer, my father had to have his right foot - up to mid-calf - amputated. He did amazingly well. All his walking, swimming, and eating healthy paid off. He was strong as an ox. The nurses were shocked by how strong he was. They had to strap him down immediately following the surgery recovery period to keep him from getting up. He responded well to all the therapy. I had never realized how disciplined my father was. How did I miss that growing up? He was determined to do all that was required of him to make the best recovery he could.


Star #4 - August 20 - Dad was transferred to the nursing care facility because he needed additional OT and PT. I tried to come by every day from work to see him. I even helped him with the therapy. When I asked to meet with the team people working with my dad to see how much longer he would need to be there - they told me they needed to keep him for an additional two weeks "because he was not increasing his lung capacity enough". I almost fell out of the chair when they said that. I think I told them - in a relatively calm voice - that my father was never going to increase his "lung capacity" no matter how long they did therapy. He was in the final stages of lung cancer. They just stared back. This freaked me out a little and I became more aggressive and assertive in my interactions with the nurses and therapist working with my dad. I noticed in one of my visits that my dad was having some problems with his other leg. I learned later that the nurse had made my dad sit in the chair for four hours and would not let him get back in bed, because it was good for him to get used to sitting up. I reamed them pretty good for this, but the damage had been done.


After seeing how swollen my dad's good left leg was, I knew we had lost the race. That it was highly likely they would ultimately want to amputate his other leg. I visited the local hospice facility. Took the tour. Learned what was required to transfer my father there and picked up some literature about hospice. I went home and told my husband that I thought it was over. We walked and talked and I cried as I faced the reality that the nursing facility had expedited my father's death and cheated us of a fwe more months with our dad.


When I visited my dad on August 27, I told him that I thought he was going to be faced with the decision to have his other leg amputated. I hoped I was wrong, but I thought the cancer was winning. He needed to decide how much pain and suffering he was willing to go through to prolong his life. Katie and I were up to the task and would do whatever he wanted. My hope had been to get the full six months to be with him but I also did not want him to suffer needlessly.


Star #5 -August 28 - at 7:30am, I received a call from my sister saying that they were rushing dad to the hospital. The doctor advised my father they needed to amputate the other leg right away. My father declined and asked to be moved to hospice. How does one find the courage to choose the path that they know will lead to death?


Star #6 - August 30 – My father is transferred to hospice. Three hours after arriving, my father died with my mother, sister, aunts, and a friend by his side. We delayed having the funeral to allow all the grandchildren to fly in. And, ultimately, it gave my sister and I time to make decisions and do some processing.


Star #7 - September 5 –We had the funeral and burial. My mother was ill and I could not stay for the burial. I took my mother to the hospital for emergency care. I missed my father's burial and the twenty-one gun salute. My mother was admitted to the hospital and spent the night. I picked her up the next morning and she came home to live with us, never to live in her home again. She was too ill to care for herself and lived too far away for me to care for two homes.


Our lives were changed forever in those eight weeks. But that was only those seven stars. Tomorrow I will share the story of the other stars surrounding the Big Dipper.


Chene' Swart of South Africa visited Cincinnati this spring. She came to join us at A Small Group with Peter Block. Chene' shared with us her work with "Narrative Therapy".

Here is my understanding of Narrative Therapy (NT) and how I have applied it to my life stories. NT shows us that we all have a story we tell ourselves about everything that has happened in our lives. This story is created and somewhat determined by our age and level of maturity at the time of the event and our perceptions. It does not mean it is not true, but it may not be the whole story.

 For instance, when we look at the stars, many of us have learned to identify the constellations. It doesn't mean there aren't other stars surrounding those constellations, but that the other stars are just not part of the constellation.

Words of Wisdom

These words inspire me and have the power to set me free.  May they set you free today. Enjoy!