  Spiritual
This week: The Usurper Edited by: Shannon  
More Newsletters By This Editor 
1. About this Newsletter
2. A Word from our Sponsor
3. Letter from the Editor
4. Editor's Picks
5. A Word from Writing.Com
6. Ask & Answer
7. Removal instructions
Welcome to the Spiritual Newsletter. My name is Shannon and I'm your editor this week. |
| ASIN: B07K6Z2ZBF |
Product Type: Kindle Store
|
Amazon's Price: $ 4.99
|
|
This newsletter has been nominated for a "Best Newsletter Editing" Quill Award! 
Every day is a gift, but let's not kid ourselves: sometimes life is unpleasant and cruel. Today I'd like to share such a story.
At 3:40 p.m. on September 14 my brother Sean called me. I was unable to answer the phone, so I sent a text letting him know I was working and asked if everything was okay.
Sean: "No. Mom just called. They're hauling dad to the hospital. She thinks he had another heart attack."
I live over 500 miles away from my parents, so zipping over to check on them is a ten-hour drive. This wasn't Dad's first heart attack: he has a long list of diagnoses and takes sixteen different prescription medications, so I finished my shift and waited for word.
Later that evening Sean called to say Dad was stable and able to speak on the phone, so I called him.
Me: "How are you feeling, Dad? Are you having any more chest pain?"
Dad: "Yeah, but I made a few calls and listened to the Bible and everything worked out."
To my brother, this sounded like impending doom. To me, it sounded like Dad's Alzheimer's--a personality I call "The Usurper"--rearing its ugly head. I was told the hospital would keep him overnight for serial cardiac enzymes and release him the following morning if he remained stable.
I awoke the morning of September 15 expecting to hear my dad had been released, but what I found was a text message from my brother: the tiny hospital in Libby, Montana (population 2,678) had transported Dad to a larger hospital in Kalispell (population 22,761) 100+ miles away via ambulance during the night without notifying the family. Sean didn't know why Dad had been transferred, but I was heartened: Dad's cardiologist is in Kalispell.
Over the course of the following ten days, Dad was discharged and readmitted three more times, but not for his heart condition. While he was hospitalized, my brothers removed all the firearms from the home (my dad is a lifelong hunter) due to his mental state and increasingly violent outbursts. The subsequent hospitalizations were a result of my 75-year-old mother calling the police in fear, and the police transported Dad to the hospital for evaluation.
As it stands right now, Dad is home and continues to have "mini heart attacks" on a regular basis, which is why his troponin levels keep climbing. We were told he doesn't have much time left, so the whole family--my three brothers and I as well as two of my three children and their children--dropped what we were doing and converged on our parents' house.
Not much of what Dad says makes sense, and the majority of it isn't true, but we sit and listen anyway. He's always loved to tell stories, but rather than telling us about his most recent hospitalizations, he "remembers" and repeatedly tells us about how he was arrested for parking on the wrong side of a fence and spent a few nights in jail:
Dad: "The three wise men were there, and they all arrived on camels. In fact, there was a fourth, but he was riding a jackass. They told me, 'You need to knock this s*it off, Gary.'"
Me: "That doesn't sound very wiseman-y."
Shane (one of my three brothers): "So, they were the Three WiseASS Men."
We make light of a very painful situation to make each other laugh; we're getting through any way we can.
Spend time with your parents, record their voices while they're still in their right minds, take family photos, and enjoy your time together. If they haven't already done so, have your parents complete the Durable Power of Attorney for Healthcare Decisions paperwork; don't wait until it's too late.
I saw my dad for what might be the last time on Monday, September 25 at 9:05 p.m. I hugged him and he patted my face, squeezed me tight.
Dad: "Oh, I love you, kid. I'll remember you for the rest of my days."
Me: "I love you too, Dad."
Peace and blessings.
|
I hope you enjoy this week's featured selections. I occasionally feature static items by members who are no longer with us; some have passed away, while others simply aren't active members. Their absence doesn't render their work any less relevant, and if it fits the week's topic I will include it.
Thank you, and have a great week!
| |  | Invalid Item
This item number is not valid.
#789721 by Not Available. |
|
Have an opinion on what you've read here today? Then send the Editor feedback! Find an item that you think would be perfect for showcasing here? Submit it for consideration in the newsletter!
https://www.Writing.Com/go/nl_form
Don't forget to support our sponsor!
| ASIN: B07YJZZGW4 |
|
Amazon's Price: Price N/A
Not currently available. |
|
The following is in response to "1SE" :
Quick-Quill  writes: As my life revolves around church 75% of the time. My Facebook friends are for the most part Christians. We have prayer request pages and post to everyone our miracles and faith accomplishments. This is where I receive my greatest response to grateful events in my life. Sharing them with likeminded people who support me in prayer lifts my spirits.
I'm reminded that as a Sr. in high school I was not treated well in school. My friend and I were often made fun of. It was the only year I attended as we'd just moved there. Now 47 years later those same people who I have no memory of in school are now mature people who support and join in prayer for all of our classmates. We have a closed FB page and I'm in contact with many. I'm grateful for lost memories. I don't remember who those kids were and they came to apologize at the end of the year. All is forgiven and forgotten.
Yes! I had a similar experience: a girl (we were probably fifteen or sixteen at the time) came up to me and apologized for the way she'd treated me in middle school. I had no idea what she was talking about.  Something that had tormented her hadn't even registered with me. I guess I've always been one of those "pick your battles" kind of people, and I try not to sweat the small stuff (and most of it's small stuff).  |
| ASIN: B083RZJVJ8 |
|
Amazon's Price: Price N/A
Not currently available. |
|
To stop receiving this newsletter, click here for your newsletter subscription list. Simply uncheck the box next to any newsletter(s) you wish to cancel and then click to "Submit Changes". You can edit your subscriptions at any time.
|
Spiritual: September 27, 2017 Issue [#8531]
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
