I can take no credit for this entry it was written by my sister Marie last month..............
I’m at a hospital in northern Colorado today. It’s not really where I want to be, but someone I love is having heart surgery today and I need to be here because it’s what families do. My sisters and I are here together, waiting on our mom. She’s having one heart valve replaced and another repaired.
It’s a scary thing. It’s something we’ve always known was a possibility. A big possibility. We don’t come from a family with healthy hearts. Apparently, we don’t come from a family with great immune systems either. Strep infections like us–a lot. My mom had rheumatic fever when she was a child. So did her brothers and sisters. Rheumatic fever isn’t good for your heart. It definitely wasn’t good for theirs. It left them all with heart damage. One of her sisters had two heart attacks before she was 30. All of her siblings have had heart attacks, though thankfully, she hasn’t.
So, there it is, the day after Valentine’s Day and we’re waiting for some amazing surgeons to fix Mom’s broken heart. I’ve had the opportunity to learn a lot about heart disease over the last few months. I thought I knew a lot, having grown up with all of this, but I really didn’t.
I learned that one out of every three deaths in this country is due to heart disease. That’s more than anything else–cancer, aids, car accidents–anything. We’re getting better at treating or fighting it or preventing it, because those numbers are lower than they used to be. But they’re still way too high. The American Heart Association estimates that 81,000,000 Americans have heart disease and this year 1.26 million of us will have a heart attack. That’s a lot. That’s too many.
I also learned that it’s really not fun to have heart disease. You can’t do things you want to do. You get tired really easily. Even eating can seem like too much work. You get fussed over and worried about a lot and when you’re a really independent and active person, it can all be beyond frustrating.
I can’t change those numbers, but I can change mine. Thankfully, other than heredity, I don’t have a lot of risk factors. My blood pressure is low, I don’t smoke and while I’m not as fit as I’d like to be, I’m not overweight either. The heredity factor definitely skews things. I had strep about a zillion times growing up. Actually, I had chronic strep and I feel like I spent most of my childhood taking penicillin. So I know that I need to work even harder to lower my risks.
Thankfully, there’s a website that has a ton of incredibly helpful, useful and even inspirational information. Learn about risk factors, learn how to know if you’re having a heart attack–do you know the signs? Find them here.
There is even more information to help you prevent heart disease by getting healthier. Once I am done with today, I will be making plans to complete Go Red’s “Better U” program and hopefully lower my risk factors (and maybe my waistline) even more.
You’re never too young and you’re never too old to take care of yourself. Go visit Go Red today and share it with every woman you know.
And go call your own mom and tell her you don’t want her to ever have to have a broken heart.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Monday, December 21, 2009
We Still Believe - Do You?
I borrowed part of this post from my sisters blog, but I couldn't have written it better myself.......
Santa is a still a pretty big deal at our house. Even with most of our childern grown, there is no question that the magic and spirit of Santa are alive and well in our family.
I still believe–at least in all the good things that Santa represents–but then I had the advantage of having Santa Claus for a Dad. When we were kids (pre-teens), my sisters and I had the task of being the elves and making little gifts for Santa to give out each year on Christmas Eve. Santa was a family friend (actually a few different friends over the years) and my dad was Santa’s driver. My mom was the organizer and Santa visited families in our church and town who had children young enough to be excited over a personal visit from the jolly fat man himself on Christmas Eve.
When I was about 12 or 13, Santa came down with the flu on Christmas Eve. Try as they might, my parents couldn’t find a replacement Santa at the last minute. My dad decided that he would do it, rather than risk disappointing the children. My sisters and I were horrified–even my mom wasn’t too excited. See, my dad had been a career Marine and there was no doubt in our minds that he had sprung forth from the womb a full-fledged Marine and all the toughness that entailed. He was also skinny as a rail. He was the tough guy, not mean or harsh, but definitely a very strict dad, certainly not the first one you would think of for jolly and we were convinced that he would “ruin” Christmas for all our friends’ children. Well, Dad being Dad won (I told you he was tough–determined is probably a better adjective).
Mom ended up being the driver that night and we girls waited at home for their return. About 30 minutes or so after they left, one of my mom’s closest friends called. Their first stop had been to a very close family friend’s house to visit with all their grandchildren. She wanted to know who the Santa was who was with my mom. We thought it was a joke. She said he was the best Santa she had ever seen. She really had no idea it was our dad. We got several similar calls that night. From that night on, I knew that Santa really was magic. When Dad put on the suit, he truly became Santa. He was a completely different person and I don’t think I ever saw him happier than he was on Christmas Eve.
For the next 10 years, my dad was Santa every year on Christmas Eve. When my sister Marie was 19, he decided he needed a “real” Santa suit. The one they had used for years was getting pretty worn and threadbare. So, Dad and Marie went shopping and picked out top quality velvet, fur and leather for the belt. He even bought real boots and he went to a professional wig shop for the wig and beard. Here is the portrait she did of him that year.
Santa is a still a pretty big deal at our house. Even with most of our childern grown, there is no question that the magic and spirit of Santa are alive and well in our family.
I still believe–at least in all the good things that Santa represents–but then I had the advantage of having Santa Claus for a Dad. When we were kids (pre-teens), my sisters and I had the task of being the elves and making little gifts for Santa to give out each year on Christmas Eve. Santa was a family friend (actually a few different friends over the years) and my dad was Santa’s driver. My mom was the organizer and Santa visited families in our church and town who had children young enough to be excited over a personal visit from the jolly fat man himself on Christmas Eve.
When I was about 12 or 13, Santa came down with the flu on Christmas Eve. Try as they might, my parents couldn’t find a replacement Santa at the last minute. My dad decided that he would do it, rather than risk disappointing the children. My sisters and I were horrified–even my mom wasn’t too excited. See, my dad had been a career Marine and there was no doubt in our minds that he had sprung forth from the womb a full-fledged Marine and all the toughness that entailed. He was also skinny as a rail. He was the tough guy, not mean or harsh, but definitely a very strict dad, certainly not the first one you would think of for jolly and we were convinced that he would “ruin” Christmas for all our friends’ children. Well, Dad being Dad won (I told you he was tough–determined is probably a better adjective).
Mom ended up being the driver that night and we girls waited at home for their return. About 30 minutes or so after they left, one of my mom’s closest friends called. Their first stop had been to a very close family friend’s house to visit with all their grandchildren. She wanted to know who the Santa was who was with my mom. We thought it was a joke. She said he was the best Santa she had ever seen. She really had no idea it was our dad. We got several similar calls that night. From that night on, I knew that Santa really was magic. When Dad put on the suit, he truly became Santa. He was a completely different person and I don’t think I ever saw him happier than he was on Christmas Eve.
For the next 10 years, my dad was Santa every year on Christmas Eve. When my sister Marie was 19, he decided he needed a “real” Santa suit. The one they had used for years was getting pretty worn and threadbare. So, Dad and Marie went shopping and picked out top quality velvet, fur and leather for the belt. He even bought real boots and he went to a professional wig shop for the wig and beard. Here is the portrait she did of him that year.
Sadly, he died before Kathryn was born, but Kyle is lucky enough to remeber a little of his grandfather’s magic. But we put his portrait in a place of honor every year at Christmas next to the sign my mom gave each us the first Christmas after his passing that says “We still believe in Santa Claus.” And at our house we do.
Merry Christmas
By the way, I know some of you who read this remember our wonderful Santa. I would love for you to share your stories and memories here with us.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Thanksgiving Family Pictures
I am thankful for children who don't mind every year when their "mom" wants a new set of pictures for her wall. This has become a Thanksgiving Family Tradition for us. We all get dressed, set off for some interesting location (hopefully) and try to see if we can create our own family portrait. Some years have been better than others, with weather, soccer tournaments and trying to get everyone to agree about where to go...... Here is a peek at what we came up with this year. 
Sebastian Comes for A Visit
We had a lot of fun the week of Thanksgiving. The kids were out of school, and all the soccer coaches gave us the week off! This was a first for us. But the most fun of all was that Sebastian came to stay with us for a few days. We had a great time with him (we hope he enjoyed his time with us too). We baked cookies, visited the fire station and played a little soccer in the park........
Mark is a Distinguished Visitor on the USS Stennis - November 2009
Mark was privileged to spend 2 days as a distinguished visitor aboard the USS Stennis. He flew out from North Island on a C2 airplane and lived side by side with the amazing men and women who serve our country. He was absolutely in awe of the hard work and commitment these fine members of our armed forces show each day.
Tricks and Treats
October brings Halloween and a little Trick or Treating. Mom took the kids around the neighnorhood, while Dad stayed at home and had "Candy Duty". The kids had a great time - but thought the house with the sign that said "Danger - Swine Flu Here" was the scariest house we saw.
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