Hello Friends

And welcome to the thyroid blog, I mean liver blog, well, actually really it's the heart blog. We're an equal opportunity vital organ-ization around here.

It's so GREAT to be home. My neck looks pretty icky though, looks worse than it feels. The kids talk to me from the side so they don't have to look at it. I cover it up, then they say, that's OK, Mom, you don't have to cover it up. Mostly, I'm just letting my Mom and Bob wait on me and trying to get comfy with this bobble head of mine.

And trying to figure out surgeons. I mean, how do they do it? This human cutting and sewing magic. Or in my case its cutting and pasting -- have a big swatch of glue on my neck, part of what looks to ominous. Even though it's better than stitches or staples. OH MOM! Said Amanda, wrinkled nose in disgust.

Surgeons work with such confidence. I guess they have to, right? "The most dangerous part of your day is your car ride here," said Dr. Sanan who is so dang cute I could just eat him up. "I love doing this, that's why I chose this work," is what Dr. Sheffelbein said, who we call the Mensa Barbie. I mean, she looks like a movie star. Which was about the about the last thing I thought before waking up to "it's over."

It's really quite amazing, right?

Thank you for your thoughts, words, and prayers. I can't believe how much it all makes such a difference -- all of you. Thank you. And we also keep in mind Marie Hayes, the international student coordinator here at Luther Seminary who had a brain tumor removed on Tuesday.

With love, T

P.S. And kudos to my husband for blogging, with the help of Amanda who got him through the passwords and such. xoxoxoxxoxoxoxxoox

To Have and Have Not (with apologies to E. Hemingway)

The day began as any other, with a nudge of my elbow to Terri begging her to get up first and make the kids lunch for school. sure as long as you drive them up to the bus stop she replied. That's a deal...another 1/2 hour of sleep. Now is this any way to treat a women who is looking at surgery on her pretty neck in another 5 hours. Sometimes I can be shameless, but a 1/2 hour extra sleep is a 1/2 extra sleep, who could really blame me?
After my guilty conscience had once again forgiven itself, it was on to the hospital for the pre-surgery review and the same battery of questions asked over and over, 4 different times...kind of like a candidacy committee I thought to myself.
Finally the surgeons arrived about 1 hour after the time that was scheduled...reassurance that everything would go well, they were ready and extremely cabable to perform their task for the day. A nervous smile from both Terri and all who were with her in the small pre-op room, a couple of hugs and kisses, prayer and off she went to surgery at about 1:30.
Then the waiting began for me, Mom and Dad M., brother-in-law Tom (paramedic extraordinare) and Martha A., one of our many GREAT friends. At 5pm. Dr. Sanan finally came to the waiting room spotted several very anxious family members and declared the surgery a complete success, Terri's Thyroid was gone...the patient now in Post-Op, although still very sleepy was recovering well.The prognosis: an expected full and complete recovery with nothing else spotted during surgery to cause any concern. A few more hugs, some tears of joy and relief and another wait of about 2 hours till Terri was finally given a hospital room. Mom and Dad M., Mary Beth P. another great friend and neighbor and I spent another couple of hours with Terri, still sleepy and unable to speak because of a sore throat but happy to have the company and care.
At this point we're not sure when my lovely wife will be coming home, hopefully tomorrow maybe Thursday, stay tuned for further details. Projected recovery time: 1 week.
Just a few more words of thanks to Pastor Sue, our fabulous pastor at Christ Church, for her pre-op Pastoral Care, to Pastor Harry yet another great friend and mentor for his presence and prayers, Patrick Patterson for caring for Amanda and Aidan this day and to all our other family and friends who have cloaked us in their love, prayers and support. Thank you and God Bless you, you all are the best!
Bob, (fill-in blogger for his wife...who I hope will assume this responsibility again real soon)

P.S. This is my first time blogging, be grace-filled, try not to laugh too hard ...please!

Giving Power to the Faint

"Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. God does not faint or grow weary; God's understanding is unsearchable. God gives power to the faint and strengthens the powerless." Isaiah 40:28-29

This is part of what the Rev. Orin Cummings read to us, when he and his wife and son, our dear neighbors, courtesy of Guyana, came to pray with us tonight. And more prayers and visits and e-mails and phone calls to prepare me for surgery tomorrow.

So tonight, when we synced up my ipod the little round thingie that goes in circles-circles-circles, syncing the computer with the ipod -- I imagined the human and divine intertwined like that. Literally. Like the buzz of God syncing-syncing-syncing with the surgeon's hands and brains so that everything is constantly perfect. No human error.

Amanda will be covering the liver blog while I'm out. Thanks for coming over, everyone. I really appreciate your support.

With love, T

P.S. Just in case you wanted to see the podcast programs I downloaded as though I'll be recovering for a year. And it's all free!

AmericanWriters
New York Times Book Review
Cafe Podcast
Jodi Picoult Podcasts
Learn Spanish
LearnOutLoud's Biography
Miettes Bedtime Story
New York Times Movie Review
Mysterious Universe
Newsweek Voices of the Fallen
NPR Books
NPR Fresh Air
NPR Selected Shorts
NPR Story of the Day
NPR Talk of the Nation
Rick Steves Audio Tours
Slates Audio Book Club
States Political Gabfest
State Magazine Daily Podcast
The Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson
The Music of Sleep
This American Life
Washington Report

And the Secret IS. . .

Burning question: What is this?

a. The latest incarnation of Lani's pink pajamas.
b. Another self portrait of one of my children.
c. A pedicure courtesy of mama panda.
d. Amanda's most recent fashion design.
e. All of the above.

(This is a trick to get you to read the deep dark secret superhighway of my blog.)

The answer to this burning question can be found at the end of this secret. And the secret is. . .I'm scared of surgery. I don't wanna go. It sounds really creepy. They're going to cut my throat. What if the surgeons have an off day? What if the anesthesia doesn't work right? Come to think about it, what kind of anesthesia are they using? I hated that epidural thingie for Amanda's c-section. Can't I just go to work on Tuesday, instead?

What: removal of Terri's thyroid and lymph nodes and their respective cancer and cancer-wanna-maybes
When: Tuesday, May 8, noon
Where: United Hospital, downtown St. Paul
Why: forget this question, it's futile
Who: the people with me include my husband, my parents, my paramedic extraordinaire brother, my best friend, and Pastor Sue with communion; and many of you said you would/are praying for me; thanks ~ not a bad line up

I always knew I wanted to be a reporter. There's the first paragraph of the story. Now, to answer the burning question. Aren't you glad you read this? Here's the answer. . .ready. . .it's e. All of the Above. All I can say is, when Amanda is a the new Vera Wang, we really gotta find a way to thank Lani for all the inspiration her PJ's gave.

With love, T

P.S. I would like to thank the Dixie Chicks for saving me and Amanda from the Grease Soundtrack. "I'm not gonna follow, no I'm not gonna follow. . ." is sooooooooo much better than being hopelessly devoted to Danny Zuko. Thank you, Natalie Maines, thank you.

Butterflies and Sunshine on Sticks.

I hope Dr. Freid, the band teacher, will forgive me when I say that I tried to get out of taking Amanda to the Cinco de Mayo parade today. Do you really have to go? Said mama panda in hibernation. Coffee and pajamas sounded like a better Saturday morning. "Yes, mama, we have to go."

Butterflies and Sunshine coming up, first, some flat out complaining. . .

You know what? I am really tired of carting kids around to practices, rehearsals, classes, and events. It used to be fun. Not anymore. Even after taking the year off, courtesy of the liver expedition, it's still too much. Our soccer schedule alone is like a physics equation that can't be solved.

(Two children X three practices per week) + different start times that change / divided by the square root of respective soccer field locations all over town % rounded up to the nearest mile of who gets dropped off last and picked up first -- minus overlapping swimming lessons and sleep overs and and family dinners squared exponentially by the price of gas that is breaking corporate oil profit records and fueling wars lavished by no-bid defense contracts funded by my tax dollars . . .

. . .and all of a sudden my vertigo and temper logarithms spin outta control. Bob sees the signs and says, "Don't worry about this, don't even think about this, I will handle all the soccer stuff. You just rest. There, there. You just stay right where you are. Don't even move." Like the egg shell that is his wife about to crack. Though I am good to go on the bus schedule into Minneapolis. Now do you see why we need Bob and his liver?

How did I get from Cinco de Mayo to whining?

Oh yeah. . .I didn't want to go to this parade, but when I got there I was transported. It was awesome. The Mayas. The Aztecs. The Energy. The Mariachi bands. The Girl Scouts in those flamenco-like dresses. Red, Yellow, Orange, Green everywhere. Flutes and Trumpets tooting out "La la la la la Bamba!" Over and over down the parade route. La la la la Bamba! A cute little brassy squeak here and there, but pretty darn good I thought. The most amazingly Amanda flute marcher.

And the most awesome Adams Spanish Immersion School with students, teachers, and parents donning bright Butterflies and sparkly Sunshines on sticks. They had worked all week painting and creating. It was so beautiful and I wished so badly that I had a better camera to capture it for you all.

Maybe one of the best parts about this is that I had another blog-meets-real-life moment, whatever that word will end up being. Seems as though one of the teachers had her own expedition this year, courtesy of a fanciful pancreas. Her pancreas + Bob's liver = two families interrupted. We chatted about such things in the fast and loud minutes while the parade lined up, connecting in a way that would not be possible if it were not for the deep dark secret superhighway of the blog. Thank you Señora D.

Friends, again, I thank you so much for coming over to the liver blog. Time for me to go back to my real life and say good-night to the blog life. I hope you and your loved ones are well.

With love, T

P.S. I have a lot more pics but my dog-gone substitute camera isn't quite cutting it.

My Brother from Another Mother

That's what Aidan and Sam call each other.

No wonder. When I asked Sam's father for permission to blog about Sam and post his picture he said, "Sure why not, he's your son too." In many ways that's how we feel. Actually, that's how many people feel about Sam because he's like the valedictorian of charm school.

So anyway, mostly I just wanted to show you this cute picture of Sam and his new soccer cleats. Are they awesome or what?! Bob said that when they were shopping choices, Sam's eyes found this pair and it was like love at first sight.

For Easter, dear friends from church gave Aidan one of those Mad-Lib books. You know, those stories with blanks where you insert nouns, verbs, adjectives and such to make it extra funny. Sam helped Aidan figure out how to do it (photo) and then it was like another freedom let loose. Aidan learned that he could insert his two favorite words into every blank. For those of you who can stomach second grade humor, his favorite Mad Lib is below.

PLEASE, you must believe me when I tell you that the humor is all Aidan's. Sam humors Aidan like the best big brother in the world. Which is exactly what Sam is to Aidan.

Speaking of friends, how about this pair. Bob and Patrick heading out to the greens. Who wouldn't want these guys to be their pastors? Speaking of, Patrick just stopped by and said that they've got pizza for our kids, why don't Bob and I have a anniversary outting just the two of us. How about that! So, with no further ado, we're heading out to dinner!

Take care, friends. Thank you for coming over to the liver blog. I hope you and all your vital organs are doing well.

With love, T

P.S. Oopsie, almost forgot the Mad Lib which you will surely wish I actually had. Later I'll give you Dave and Linnea's phone number if you want to personally thank them for giving Aidan this book. ;-) Aidan's word choices in bold.

Science Project

This year, everyone in my class had to do a nasty science fair project. For my project, I decided to put an old fart in the refrigerator to see what would happen to it. After a few days, it started to turn nasty and fart. I couldn't believe it -- I'd never seen anything so nasty! After a full week, it started to look like a flattened fart and smelled like a nasty. But all my fart work paid off. At the science fair, I wond a special award for having a really nasty project. I even got a fart ribbon that siad "Super Nasty Science Student" and a big trophy shaped like a fart!

Another P.S.
Congratulations to Sam's mother who is now officially "The Rev. Dr." after last week successfully defending her Ph.D. thesis. Hurrah!!!!!!!!!!

Another New Word

I am bound and determined to come up with a new vocabulary word. The definition would be something about the altered state of being when you face the fact that some people actually do read your blog and then you wonder if you really want people to know this stuff about your life, but then of course you realize that it is you and only you who makes the decision about putting the minutia of your thoughts and days out into the cyber universe. Why is that important? Why would anyone do this? I don't know, and I'm one of them.

Maybe it's the same reason that guy put his phone number on youtube.com and now he gets a phone call a second. He looked so earnest on one of those morning shows, when the Katie-Couric-ish host said, 'C'mon, smile! You're on TV!' And he could only keep his heavy face as he talked about how people would call him because they had no one else to talk to.

It's our need to connect.

A friend recently said that she sees blogging as a way for the world to heal. I like that.

The new word I would want to invent is something how electronic writing makes real life different. Better. Richer. Weirder. It's like you see someone to whom you would usually simply say "hello" if you saw them on the street. But since you've read their blog, you know all these details of their life and so you wonder if you should say something like, "Oh, I'm so sorry that you're leaving campus on Friday. I will miss you. Take care." Or if you should pretend that you don't know, because you don't want that person to know that you read their blog. Or should you keep the message in the same format, i.e. respond blog to blog. Real life to real life.

In this instance I let myself live in mixed-mediums. I actually hunted the kindred blogger down when I saw her half-packed car in the parking lot. Hunted her down by wandering around the apartments because I didn't know her well enough to know where she exactly lives, "Karen?! Karen?! Are you here? I wanted to say good-bye."

"Karen is upstairs," someone else offered out the screen from another apartment.

So I searched upstairs, found Karen, and had a good-bye that would not have happened if it were not for blogging. What would you call that? I would have been sad if I didn't say goodbye, because even though I didn't know Karen well, I did know her when she was a little girl because I was a youth director in her church oh so long ago. Just felt connected.

*

"I said the F-word to my kids." This was my admission to the now-famous Sarah Ford, who wrote such insightful messages on Bob's care pages. I saw her last week while in Baltimore. Sarah Ford, who finds a way to find peace with just about everything, unabashedly said that she already knew that because, "Terri, I read everything you write word for word."

That's Sarah. She is who she is. Doesn't care what anyone thinks. And so at home with that. And, yes, it was me anyway who already put that story out there for one and all. Why? Healing, I guess. I think the other friend is right. Blogging is for healing. Made me feel better.

I just wish blog was another word. "Blog" is so, like glog or clog or grog. Or remember those scud missles? It's like scud. There's got to be a better word. That makes two new words to come up with.

Anyway, thanks for coming over to the liver blog, friends. My dog-gone digital camera is on the fritz and it's just making me crazy because I'm missing out on so many good pics. This camera has become my new vital organ and now it left me just like the liver did, only I don't think this one is coming back. I'm missing so many good pictures. Our May Day cups. Aidan riding his bike like freedom set loose; just shy of 8 years old, he's finally riding his bike. After years of saying "I will never, ever, never ride a bike." Like someone else I know who said he would never, ever go to any kind of grad school, much less seminary. Freedom set loose at 50.

So the best I can do for today's picture is to post my avatar, which I'm discovering is a great way to 'visualize' when you telecommute. This is my office avatar.

With love, T