More hospital memoirs

Life definitely got easier when I got the Most Unpleasant Procedure over with. The next day I got my drainage tube out, and THAT was a good day. No longer did I have it poking me all the time.

Now that I didn't have to think about all the extra appendages, I started to obsess about the wound more. As I didn't have stitching, did that mean there was just a big hole in my side? I didn't like to think about it.

That first weekend, my regular doctor had a day off and had suggested I get a dressing change with the doctor on duty. The Saturday surgeon poked his head in the room, saw that I was getting my IV meds, and told me to come find him for the dressing change. Ummm...okay? Come to find out, the doctors' lounge was wayyyy down a long corridor and I hadn't walked that far yet. On the way there I passed the kitchen, which meant I could technically fetch my own meals...more on that later. But it was so painful shuffling along and then I felt awkward entering the lounge in my pathetic state when there were professional people dressed in normal clothes, such as pants.

Speaking of clothes, Lesson #1 in socialist medicine: don't expect extras. And apparently hospital gowns are an extra. Remember how I had to strip naked before my operation? Well, I didn't have anything to wear afterwards either. I must have had underwear on, but I couldn't do anything like fasten a bra with the IV port in...so, sorry for the non-glamorous visual, but I was basically wearing underwear, a tank top, and a bathrobe from home that I couldn't close all the way when I had the drainage bag. Eventually Andrei did bring me some long underwear with an elastic waist. But, yeah..fashion was a challenge.

It was kind of an odd experience seeing other patients shuffling around in their clothes from home. You'd think it would feel homey, but it didn't. It felt awkwardly intimate. I didn't want to see everyone else's fuzzy bathrobe and slippers and dishes that they washed out themselves. It felt like summer (prison?) camp in some kind of twisted universe. Also, I really didn't need to see everyone else's drainage bags. But I'm glad my roommates (and husband) took care of me even though it was messy at times and they saw things they probably didn't want to.

So, the surgeon caught up with me at the Bandaging Room, took off the old bandage, did a quick swab, and slapped a new bandage on. Which had become unstuck by the time I got back to my room. Sigh. Did it really matter? Yes, it did...I had an open wound, after all. The doctor was gone, of course. I asked the bandaging nurse for a new one, and she said they "didn't have any more." Now, on Friday, after my drainage tube came out, she had carefully cut a bandage down to size and attached it with finesse. And now they had run out? It was time for Lesson #2: Buy your own supplies. When a friend was visiting that afternoon, she went down to the pharmacy for me and bought bandages...the same kind that had been used the day before. My roommate hobbled over and put it on for me.

From then on, I had Andrei buy bandages every few days so I always had a supply. Lest you think I was being taken advantage of, I saw plenty of other patients waiting their turn, holding their own supply of bandages. Sometimes the pharmacy downstairs even ran out and Andrei had to go elsewhere.

It doesn't seem like bandages are a large expense, but when the supplies end, patients buy their own. That's how it goes. And for many procedures, such as childbirth, it's expected that you will bring your own consumable items.

A tale of two fathers

Andrei and I both grew up with great dads! There's a reason I'm focusing on them in this post, but of course the moms are pretty awesome, too.

Back when Andrei and I were "just friends" and left comments on each other's blogs...back when we were in a small group together and prayed for each other's prayer needs...it was almost 10 years ago, and at that time, each of our fathers got diagnosed with prostate cancer.

So there we were, with our fathers going through identical health crises!

But we got through that time. A few years later we got married, and then had kids, and have been going back and forth between the grandparents and making lots of memories.

However, the grandfathers aren't able to visit each other's countries due to their health restrictions. And lately, they've been in sync again with some more serious complications. Over the past few weeks we've been imagining scenarios where we lose Andrei's dad or mine. We could have lost Vladimir when he had a heart attack recently, and we could lose my dad if he doesn't improve soon.

Just yesterday Vladimir was transferred to a "sanatorium" (look up Russian sanatoriums if you're interested!), and tomorrow my dad will be transferred home to receive visiting nurse care.

So it's been a roller-coaster, to say the least! And our family was hit with an INTENSE cold virus a week ago so we haven't been able to offer much support.

Anyway, I don't have anything very profound to say and don't know how to edit this to make it less blunt. Just a little update and of course some things to pray about.

Splitting up

Have you ever been in a church split? How did it make you feel? How did you deal with it? Were you a leaver or one left behind? One going out or sending?

We have "lost" maybe 2/3 of our congregation in the last 6 months. Doesn't matter why, but I feel like I have to grieve a little bit.

Reactions may vary and range from gossip to prayer to the hope of a turning over a new leaf. The problem with the optimistic approach, I've found, is that it doesn't allow for processing what's happened. And what has happened? It's quite typical/normal for followers of Christ to move on and worship in a new group of like-minded believers. There can be many reasons for this and they don't even have to be super "spiritual."

But when people leave because of some sort of conflict or unfulfilled dream, it feels to me like giving up on relationships. It feels like divorce. I know some might argue with me and say that sounds harsh. And I know divorce isn't the ultimate sin, either, but I feel that premature separation removes the chance for reconciliation. Harboring discontentment and then leaving without problem-solving takes away the chance for repentance and forgiveness. As each family/individual leaves, I want to believe that they are in God's will, on the path of righteousness. I sincerely desire all whom I love to be walking with Christ. But how could a broken relationship be His will? And how could it be right for one person's decision to uproot others, regardless of whether or not they would have eventually moved on? Is it a paradox?

We walked together and became cleaved to each other, in a way. I sort of alluded to this in a birthday post. When you are in a close relationship, what happens when your common link is severed? If a couple has broken up, is it possible to remain friends? Many have said that we will remain friends, but in what context? And what's the difference between being casual friends with people in other churches and remaining friends with those who used to be in the same church?

I think partly staying behind is also hard because it is less of a choice. It IS a choice, but it is not something planned, as opposed to those who made the decision to leave together. We chose to stay, not knowing who else would stay. And now we look around and see who is left. And they might not be the ones that I would have chosen to be friends with. When you first join a church, you may be starting from scratch with friendship, but then everyone gets into their little groups. And now it's like we were all thrown together from different social groups. These are the people who should be my closest friends, but I don't feel automatically close to all of them.

I suppose it is obvious that I am in favor of staying put. But it may also be a personality thing? There have been times when I have stayed in a church situation that wasn't ideal, NOT because of complacency, but because I felt God was teaching me through it. I believe that whenever there is the tiniest kernel of hope, that it is worth it to keep trying. Even when not all seems biblically sound (and no church is ever perfect or completely free from "scandal"), I sometimes see those imperfections as challenges to seek Truth and practice discernment...even though there are times when we must separate ourselves from a church that seems to be doing the work of the Evil One.

Since it is so personal, that is why I have to keep committing everyone's future to the Lord, instead of questioning the decision itself.

Rushing to post this before my laptop battery runs out! But probably more in the future.

Remembering

While gathering some notes about my late grandfather to help process his passing, I was surprised that I hadn't blogged about my trip to Budapest with my grandparents and older brother back in 2007. That was my first year of blogging when I was pretty regular. There's just a gap during those dates. But, it was a great vacation, so I'm glad I spent the time enjoying myself and their company.

Trying out some local goulash, perhaps?

Cow sculptures in  Budapest

Processing

I don't know if there is any way to kind of "speed up" the processing that you go through after traumatic (major or minor) events. If we could control it, I suppose we would choose to fall apart only when convenient. I know as a parent especially, I try to "hold it together" until another adult comes and I can go cry. But again, it isn't that easy to control.

So this month there have been a lot of various stressful events-terrorist attacks, church conflict, holiday tension....and I felt totally calm. Well, on the day of the bombing, I wanted to cry, but didn't want the kids to get upset...yet by evening, the feelings were gone.

Then with church stuff, I honestly felt at peace. But when I was physically at the church meeting, it all started coming back...just like I had to go through certain emotions when entering the metro after the terrorist attack. I had to be in the sanctuary and see the empty seats to really feel the loss.

We've got colds in our house now...we had some church friends over for fellowship last Friday, and Sophia started projectile vomiting! Heh, sorry for the visual.

I was thinking back to last year when there was also church stuff going on, and people prayed for our family, and then David broke his collarbone! Which is not to say that it was a direct correlation. BUT for Andrei to be able to stay focused in his ministry, he really needs his family life to be peaceful. Everyone being sick and cranky probably doesn't help, but there is also a lot of cooperation going on, and it could be a lot worse. Like I said, there is a lot going on...but I'd better hit publish.

The wounded

Woke up to news of U.S. airstrike on Syria. Ummm....not sure what the consequences of that are going to be!

Last night I was scrolling through FB and happened to click on a stranger's page that has a lot of friends in common with me. I ended up reading the pages of a family whose teenage daughter was wounded in this week's bombing.

As they attend one of the local churches here, a prayer chain had gone out, but now I had a face to fit the name.

Based on the posts I saw, it went like this:

-the teenager was helped out of the metro by a woman who heeded her request to go home to her parents, despite her injuries

-the girl only knew her father's cell phone number from memory, so they called her father, who called her mother to warn her that her injured daughter was about to show up on her doorstep

-they called an ambulance, which arrived in about an hour*

-the girl had some shrapnel on her leg and a ruptured eardrum, and required surgery

-her sister was having trouble getting to the hospital due to the transportation collapse, but a stranger picked her up and drove her all the way there

-the sister described an investigator coming into the hospital room and interviewing the wounded teenager and examining the blood on her clothes (to look for traces of the terrorist, the sister surmised)

-the mother shared about feeling relief that her daughter was showing interest in normal things, like food and manicures, even while still in the hospital

Often the victims of these tragedies are faceless to us, but when I imagined a terrorist's blood on my child (or sister!), I began to imagine what kind of thoughts might go through someone's head.

So, now you can kind of picture what the families of victims might be experiencing. The sun is shining outside (earlier today anyway), but the marks are still on their bodies for now.


*In St. Petersburg it is customary (and free of charge) to call an ambulance for minor illness and injury, as it is a way to get some medical attention without taking a sick person on public transportation. In this case many of the emergency vehicles had been mobilized to the attack site, and her injuries were not life-threatening, so an hour's wait probably wasn't too bad. See more in my Soviet medicine post from several years ago. http://lizinstpete.blogspot.ru/2009/01/look-back-at-soviet-medicine.html

Day after

Everything is normal. Nothing will be the same.

I spent much less time reading the news today, once I realized there was not going to be anything additional. The names of victims have been published, but I don't recognize any of them. There's been a new attack in Syria, with many more casualties-how very, very awful. :(

It feels like we're kind of isolated. Our friends and family around the world showed concern, but today it is back to business as usual. A CNN headline reads "As Russia mourns St Petersburg attack, Europe shows little solidarity." And I think I can finally agree. In the past, I felt that Russians were being too hasty to accuse the West of favoritism and/or bias, mourning one terrorist attack and not another. But I really noticed it this time. I was so sad for London, and many people were. But I do not know anyone in London. And yet, I did not feel that strangers were sad for St. Petersburg. There are probably people who haven't even heard, but that's okay, because I wouldn't pass a news quiz, either.

Some headlines tug at my heart more than others. We have to protect our emotions somehow, or we will collapse under the weight of daily tragedies around the world. But it is still interesting to see how we react differently to various news items, simply because they concern different countries or people groups. And we can't really force ourselves to feel compassion, even if we can recognize a situation that deserves it.

I scroll through Instagram, but the normal posts are too normal, and the sad posts are too sad. I want both! The condolences are formulaic, yet their absence is worse. Yesterday we had to hold it together, but when we had the chance to sit down and process, the feelings were already buried.

Andrei's students hinted at canceling classes today, but as Andrei pointed out, he had to answer to his superiors, who had not given any such order. So Andrei took the other metro line to work. He said that it was a very safe day to travel in the metro, as security measures were high. But rumors said that people had been advised to stay home. There was a lot of information being passed around, and it was frustrating that some of it was untrue.

Today was day 1 of three days of mourning.

Chance of terror

It has always seemed like terrorist attacks always occur somewhere else-even in Russia, they are usually in Moscow, or in some conflict zone. I never expected it here.

Too young to know what's going on.

14:40 The blast occurred
15:00 I knew Andrei was finishing his lectures, so I texted him to ask him to buy some bread so we could have sandwiches for lunch.
15:15 My MIL's phone rang (she was at our house), and it was Andrei calling to say there had been an explosion. The metro station nearest his work was closed, so he was headed to the other metro line.

I started notifying people that we were okay, and Nina called Vladimir (Andrei's father) to say he was safe. Vladimir started crying with relief.

I was about to burst into tears myself. I was mostly stunned into silence. David was full of energy and irritated that we were making phone calls instead of letting him play freely with Nina.

15:45 Andrei called to say he had made it halfway home but that the metro was being evacuated (seemed logical in case of other bombs, but obviously inconvenient). It's a bit disorienting trying to switch from underground to above-ground transportation, especially considering St. Petersburg is built on a serious of islands. I kept my phone nearby in case I needed to look up directions for him.

16:15 Andrei called to say that he had gotten on a bus headed to another metro station that had more transportation links.

I headed outside to buy some bread at a kiosk near our house. I felt numb, like I was sleep-walking. Our neighborhood looked the same, but people in the same city had lost their lives.

Unlimited

A lot of people were commenting on how awful 2016 was. And I can definitely think of people near me who have lost loved ones very recently. Even as I type this, the names and faces float across my mind, and I lift them up to the Lord. A child...a mother....an orphanage director...a father. Sometimes it is just something that happens to other people, and sometimes it is closer to home.

He isn't doing it as much now, but David had a period this fall where he was asking me about death a lot.

"Mommy, I don't want to die, EVER." And I just say "I know." Because I don't want to trivialize the grim reality of death by saying something too chipper, and neither do I want to admit that it scares me, too.

But one day we had a talk about new bodies, and he kind of latched on to that idea. And by the next evening he had a new prayer request: that we would die soon, to see Jesus, to get new bodies, so that he could run fast and Nina could pick him up and play rough with him, etc. I felt like his uncomplicated understanding of it made it easier for him to change direction with his thinking.

I don't know if I'm too young for a mid-life crisis or not, but sometimes it feels like I'm at some kind of point of no return (over the hill?), where that old injury or whatever isn't something that's just going to go away....it's here for good. Those hobbies might never fit into my lifestyle again.  This old brain might not bounce back (though it's still early postpartum). And sooner or later we do have to look to the future and think about eventually having new bodies. I wish I could have the pure excitement of my son as he imagines unlimited physical activity!

Will there be gravity in heaven?

Keeping on

Haven't really felt like writing, but I promised myself I would be transparent and keep sharing my thoughts.

I've probably mentioned it before, but God ministers to me through music. I wish I knew Scripture as well as I know song lyrics, but there's room for both! And I try to challenge myself to match up the songs with corresponding Bible passages.

Recently when I've been trying to quiet my soul, I keep recalling the words "...'Cause life is hard. And it might not get easier."* That's from a song I learned at summer camp back in middle school. Not too positive, right? But the line before that is, "..and we all need Jesus." So, in that case, the words ring true. In John ch.16:33 Jesus tells his disciples, "In this world you will have trouble." I don't see that as a scary thing. I just see it as assurance that going through hardship is normal and doesn't mean that we are being neglected by God or specifically targeted. Of course I am writing this while still trying to convince myself that my troubles aren't any worse than anyone else's.

And then of course there is the obvious: "I cry out. For your hand of mercy to heal me."** Not my favorite song musically, but a good song of appeal, reminiscent of a Psalm.

There are also a few that we sing in Russian that are comforting to me. For some reason I like "With all I am" (Hillsong) better in Russian, but I'll include some of the English words here:

Jesus I believe in you

Jesus I belong to you

You're the reason that I live

The reason that I sing

With all I am

I'll walk with you

Wherever you go

Through tears and joy

I'll trust in you

And I will live

In all of your ways and

Your promises forever

And that one I guess is about Jesus as a precious friend and the center of life. For me I think it's about how He sustains me. I want to cling to Him and all of the promises that He represents.

P.S. Found this site, kind of neat: http://wordtoworship.com/

*"We Believe in God" (Amy Grant)
** "Good to Me" (Vineyard)

Health crisis

(melodrama alert) It's been a rough few weeks! The day before we left for Russia, I had a very good doctor's report. I was extremely encouraged since it had taken so much longer to heal up after David was born.

Within a week after we arrived, I started having some troubling symptoms. I then self-diagnosed and began to read all about it, but decided I'd better take a break from that and focus on other things for awhile. I didn't want to see a doctor because I wanted to kind of put it out of my mind.

We were doing pretty well. Sophia was sleeping well, I felt like I was managing somewhat with two kids, and we were even able to do some fun things like baking projects.

Then the symptoms worsened, and anxiety and depression quickly spiraled out of control. I imagined myself as a life-long invalid. I'd never be able to lift groceries, or my kids for that matter.

I've already mentioned my prayer journal. I also started listening to an audio Bible throughout the day, since it's hard to find time for reading. I told myself that we'd survived much worse, like everything we experienced when David was a baby. I told myself it was just hormones. I told myself that it wasn't a cancer diagnosis. But the logic and "positive thinking" weren't working.

Crying fits gave way to hyperventilating, nausea, sleeplessness, loss of appetite, and extreme weakness. I was shaky all the time and wondered if I could be anemic. I'd never had an anxiety attack this bad. I think part of it was that I couldn't tell what was just butterflies in my stomach (probably about 90% of it)  and what was my organs falling out. Eventually I realized it was just anxiety, but couldn't talk myself out of it.

I gave in and let Andrei make a doctor's appointment for me.

Hurting hearts

It has been a tough news month. And by that I mean too much of the tough stuff! Some events to make one rely on God and ponder eternity...

Even when I went to the doctor for a prenatal visit a few weeks ago, the lady next to me in the waiting area had "Oncology" stamped on her papers. While I was worrying about getting weighed and measured, others were thinking about life and death. A poster on the wall read "Give Life" and listed some alternatives to abortion, and crisis hotlines.

Meanwhile, a few emails came in from friends in different places whose family members had received sobering medical diagnoses. And we are sent to our knees.



Three years ago now, I wrote a post about orphanage contacts and how when I see friends from the orphanage I'm never really sure whether God is showing me that the door is still open, or just giving me one last chance to kind of wrap up that chapter.

The post in question featured an interesting spontaneous encounter with a former orphanage director named Yuri, who was working when my two sisters were adopted...as well as during the period when we met many of the other kids at summer camp and then followed up with them during subsequent visits to the orphanage.

So 3 years ago I ran into him outside my apartment building and got one of those famous bear hugs. And then just a week ago I heard that he had passed away.

Enough

If I've ever wanted to quit social media, it is now.

I have about 750 friends on FB, and most of the time I REALLY like all the different posts. There are definitely certain categories of posts that can be emotional triggers, depending on what I'm going through at the moment. But for all the chuckles and uplifting posts and fun photos, I don't mind one or two that are hard to read.

Lately, though...the negativity is winning. It has just seemed so...passive-aggressive lately, or something. I wonder if that's true or if I'm just in a phase where I'm sensitive to things like that.

A lot of times, the standard procedure is to post a quote, image, or link to an article that reflects the person's viewpoint. And it makes sense when what you want to say has already been wrapped up nice and tidy by someone else. But for someone reason this is where that passive-aggressive vibe comes into play for me.

A few months ago, it was Planned Parenthood. There were videos surfacing, with Christians speaking out against killing babies, while PP supporters accused critics of wanting women to suffer without cancer screening, Ob/Gyn care, etc (not to mention birth control and abortion). I had friends on either side who were equally passionate. And yes, many changed their profile pictures to reflect their views, which meant that I thought about the issue whenever their names came up in my newsfeed.

At the same time, many were mourning the plight of refugees, and a lot of posts came up about that.

Oh, and the CUPS. Starbucks cups generated this year's annual Christmas cheer controversy. EVERYONE had to comment on it. I literally thought the FB world had gone mad.

Usually after the first round, the "Christian" response pops up in the form of blog posts that tell us what we should do, sometimes in the form of a letter "to the abused," "to the mother who had an abortion," etc.

How the week went

This week felt easier, but it didn't hurt that Andrei was home more! His weekly schedule alternates between lighter and heavier workloads, though of course there is always preparation to do for the next time.

I got more breaks, and took a walk every day, sometimes combined with grocery shopping. I got outside more than David did. After the latest (mutual) meltdown, I have not felt eager to venture out together again. I heard someone reference not "cutting corners," and I think that is so crucial with 2 and 3 yr olds. You have to leave lots of time for transitions. You cannot just stop playing and head from point A to point B. There is no such thing as squeezing in a quick activity, because you have to allow time for preparation and then easing out of it. (But of course if you have PLANNED for the activity to kill a lot of time, it won't. ;) )

Another thing accomplished this week was a closet renovation I'd been trying to get done for several months. David watched a lot of TV, and regular housework didn't get done. But it is one of those tasks that will set off a chain of other things getting organized. I will share more about that in another post.

We don't set our clocks forward or backward anymore, so now we are 8 hours ahead of N.Y. time, as opposed to 7 during the summer. However, it has been getting significantly darker, both in the morning AND in the evening! I am sitting here and realizing it is only 2pm...really? When it is overcast, the whole day feels like night! Not too cold yet-holding steady around 40 degrees.

We did host Bible study this week. We try to have it regularly, but cancel when we are sick or when Andrei has to catch up on some work. All-nighters just don't work for us anymore! In our small group we have been discussing the Beatitudes. "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." That fits in well with current events, though I think sometimes it is hard to even mention them out loud. Our church has seen some sorrow this year, and there is more loss to come. But we hope in the Lord.

A City in Mourning

Last week's air tragedy was felt pretty deeply by the people of St. Petersburg. That's the impression I've gotten as I've seen the various posts and interactions that have come up in social media this week. Never-mind terrorism or the fact that the victims were just ordinary people on vacation (or that we flew into Pulkovo recently too). The mood has been more one of mourning.

As I said, I got a lot of these impressions through internet interactions. I didn't go downtown this week or venture beyond our neighborhood, so just by going about everyday life, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. But bits and pieces started to come together as I saw what friends and acquaintances were writing.

One friend remarked how we (as residents of St. Petersburg) are all just a few links away from knowing someone who was on the flight (my paraphrase). And she went on to share the Gospel, for those who may be thinking more about Eternity at this point.

Sure enough, I did see some connections come up. A graduate of an orphanage that I used to visit posted a photo of one of her peers, who lost her life. I recognized her as a girl I had probably met at the orphanage or possibly summer camp.

Over the past few days I have sat down and gone through some of the news stories and read more about some of the victims and looked at some photos. Some of the tributes are very touching, and even poems have been written. Russian culture is beautiful in that way.

But I had to stop. I don't know about you, but I feel that when mourning, it is important to have SOME information. I needed to know more about what happened in order to accept what happened as reality, and to understand (as much as is possible from the sidelines) the depth of loss that loved ones are feeling. But when it comes to the details of death, or intimate final conversations, or graphic photos (sorry), I feel that it borders on sensationalism, voyeurism. And I don't think we are meant to really fill our heads with horrible images.

The investigation continues, but I don't know if I want to read the news anymore.

Living simply; living far away (Nepal)

My mom recently sent me a book, "My Seventh Monsoon" by Naomi Reed, an Australian missionary to Nepal.

I took the book along with me to a church retreat last weekend and read a few chapters while waiting for David to fall asleep.

By the next morning, the earthquake had struck. But I didn't actually make the connection until much later. I walked into the conference room to see my friend who had been to Nepal several times, fiddling nervously with her phone. She mumbled something about an earthquake and her friends there. I didn't have internet or anything all weekend...so as I said, it didn't really register, but I could still see how it affected her. It definitely reminds me of Haiti and how many of my friends were affected by the 2010 disaster. Not a place that I've visited, but whatever burdens the hearts of my brothers and sisters is going to get to me, too.

My (Nepal-loving) friend then went on to lead morning worship for us in her sweet, faith-filled way. Later on Sunday, I finally got home to read the news and learn the scope of the tragedy.

Another of the girls who had gone.

Life on the Burn Ward

I started to write more about our hospital stay. Then I thought it might actually be kind of boring to read about. But maybe finishing it would provide some closure. So here goes...

Staying in the hospital with David was my first time ever (except for maternity)! As I mentioned in my other post, it was one of my worst fears and I knew it would probably happen sometime. I guess you could say it was about as I expected, but I will try to describe it a little bit.

I don't know why it struck me as funny that there was a "daily regimen" (schedule) posted near the nurses' station. I guess it brought me back to my school days, or summer camp maybe...? The only thing missing was a late bell. :) And I wondered how there could be a strict schedule when one is sick? Shouldn't the patients be getting attention as needed (again, I've never been hospitalized), and not on a schedule?

Then as I thought about it more, I realized that a lot of the patients are so young that they do have a pretty structured schedule, and you have to fit the medical procedures into their wake/free time. Plus it's harder to die of boredom when there is a schedule.

Cookie in hand...

So here is how the day went:

7-7:30 a.m. The nurse would do rounds, wake me up (I think I screamed one time) and ask if I had checked David's temperature yet, to which I always answered "no," because we were both obviously still sleeping. Then she would hand me the glass thermometer and I would have to stick it under his armpit and secure his non-injured arm, making him kick and scream, until finally I just fudged the numbers, as long as he didn't feel feverish. Sometimes the nurse would come back to check the numbers, sometimes not.

7:30-8:30 a.m. Unsuccessful attempts to get more sleep.

9:00-10:00 (usually closer to 10) The breakfast cart would come around. We were the last room on the delivery route.

Meals were pretty much what I remembered from Russian summer camp. Breakfast consisted of porridge and a piece of bread with cheese/butter. I'm not going to be too critical because U.S. hospital food is pretty bad. The Russian hospital cuisine seems more nutritious in that the rations/menu are all pretty regulated and planned out. I saw a chart that included extra protein for nursing moms or milk for babies of a certain age, or whatever. In general the food is pretty bland and boiled to death and somewhat economical/sub-par with very few fruits/vegetables and little meat or protein. With better quality ingredients, I like Russian food...I loved camp food the last few years I went. Maybe the financial situation had gotten better.

10:00-10:30 Hiding in our room so they wouldn't call us for rebandaging before Andrei got there. Lots of moms and babies doing laps up and down the long hallway.

10:30-12:30 Waiting for David's turn to have his dressings changed. The procedures rooms were mingled in with the rooms where patients stayed. I can't think how they would do it in the U.S. Would there even be a separate room for dressings? During this time we would walk up and down the hallway, talk to the other moms and compared notes, and I would eat my cold breakfast.

When they called us, we would sit outside the procedures room listening to other kids scream while we waited for our turn.

12:30-2:00 p.m. Trying to keep David awake long enough to at least have his shot of antibiotics (in the rear end). The cleaning lady would usually come by and we wouldn't bother vacating the room. We would just put David in the crib and sit on the bed.

1:00-2:00 p.m. (usually closer to 2) Waiting for the lunch cart to come along. Again David would be nearly asleep if not asleep already. I would stand just outside our door with my plate and bowl in hand, waiting for my grub. They gave us each a set of dishes that we were supposed to wash out between meals and use again. I used mine for a week that way. They didn't give us any dish soap but Andrei's parents brought some for me. Russian hospitals are an interesting mix of nursing care and do it yourself. As I mentioned, the cleaning lady would come daily to mop out our room...that was required according to the sanitation laws. But we were supposed to all walk down the hall to scrap our plates ourselves and then wash the dishes.

For lunch there was always soup and then there were two different main dishes; one children's version and one adult. Generally mashed potatoes or macaroni with some sort of ground meat.

2:00-4:00 p.m. was "Quiet Time." In general all patients and caregivers were supposed to be in their rooms. It seemed like a good idea, except that also on the schedule at this time was clean-up of the common areas. I guess they took advantage of us being out of the way! Our room was private and at the end, but across from the sanitation room, so we got to hear lots of buckets being filled up and then poured back out as the corridor and common areas were mopped. David was usually able to sleep through it, though.

4:00 p.m. Visitors allowed. Nina and Vladimir would usually arrive at this point, bringing all sorts of parcels. They smuggled in a lot of home-cooked food for me, yum. Plus little luxuries like tea bags and sugar, a butter knife, etc.

5:00 p.m. The snack cart would come around, usually with some sort of omelette or cottage cheese (farmer's cheese) square to provide a little protein blast.

6:00 p.m. Dinnertime. Again there were two versions, and similar offerings as at lunchtime, but without the soup. Also in the rotation were dishes like boiled white fish or liver loaf. I actually don't mind the fish as long as there aren't too many bones. Sometimes simple foods can be really comforting.

7 and on: Nina and Vladimir would get ready to go. The cloakroom closed around 8 (or was it 7:30? There was a discussion about it each day), so there was risk of them being stuck without their coats. Russian hospitals are really strict about taking outer layers/shoes off. No outside dirt allowed!

8:00 p.m. Andrei's turn to get ready to go. He had his coat hidden in a bag and would go out the back way (along with other dads).

9:00 p.m. Lights out and final diaper weighing/chart completion. Yep, I had to keep a chart of all of David's input/output and write down the specific volume each time. Along with taking his temperature. After the accident he didn't want to drink anything out of a cup for awhile, but it got better after a few days. I told the nurses that he was getting breastmilk too, but they kept shaking their heads that we were still nursing at 18 months, and one nurse expressed doubt that I actually still had a milk supply. The worst was after the first time he was in the procedural room and got all bandaged up, and had a fever. They told me not to breastfeed him until the fever was down. I got over it, though.

11:00 p.m. Finally getting quiet on the ward. People would often come down to our end of the corridor to make phone calls and such, supposedly out of earshot, but not for us! Sometimes I would read in the bathroom or play games on my phone after David fell asleep. Sometimes I fell asleep quickly.

I guess I did a lot of complaining in this post, but I think we had a pretty average hospital stay: lots of missing what was familiar, but in general the conditions were good. Getting a private room really did make a difference as I think I would have been stressed out trying to recover from the shock and do all my parenting in front of several roommates. The staff was generally kind and competent even though the bedside manner wasn't my favorite. We're thankful that David received the care he needed.

Not this post, not that one...THIS!

I went into my drafts folder just now, and I see why I haven't published those posts yet...lots of editing needed! D'oh.

So maybe it's time to get back into writing about what's on my mind.

Here you are...this week's hot topics!

1) Ukraine :/

We were in Helsinki during the "day of violence" in Kiev. We saw it on TV in the hotel. We were just so sad. Andrei especially has lots of friends on different "sides" via the Internet. I see a lot of comments show up in my newsfeed, but I try not to get too involved. There are some anti-American sentiments that make me mad. Posts about Russia can be pretty off-base, too. People are always posting articles that supposedly tell the "real story" or expose another story as false. Too many posing as experts and too few authentic voices being heard.

My mind feels split into two different conflicts: Ukraine vs. Ukraine and Russia vs. America. The Ukraine thing is the real tragedy and demands a real solution. The Russia vs. America rivalry is stupid, though it sometimes has serious consequences, such as the adoption bans. But I wish it didn't have to come up here...this isn't the place for it. Sometimes I walk down the street thinking "all these people would be on the other side if we went to war." But I don't really expect it to happen that way. I don't really associate normal Russian citizens with Putin's regime.

2) Women's Day

This year my church decided to hold this all-out extravaganza to combine Feb.23rd (Men's Day/Defenders of the Fatherland) and March 8th (International Women's Day). At first I thought it was going to entail a few songs with refreshments but it has been a PROCESS with lots and lots of online/in-person discussions and rehearsals and then last week it was announced that there is a whole theme with suggested costume (?) style. Not to mention we are supposed to bring actual food, not just cookies. I have mixed feelings about it. Parties can be fun sometimes, but it's not what I initially planned on and it feels like a big burden having to figure out what to wear and cook along with preparing a musical performance (plus chasing a toddler around, and/or walking around with him wrapped around my neck). I tried to protect myself by just agreeing to the one song, but I can't ignore the buzz around me. It feels like more work has gone into this than Christmas or Easter (with the possible exception of baby showers), not to mention it's actually Lent right now. I appreciate people putting work into it, but I will breathe a sigh of relief once this event is over. I will also admit that I was secretly pleased that the song I was preparing for a concert last month got "cut" from the program. I guess I have church event "burn-out," or something.

3) Lent (at the bottom???)

I haven't had a chance to give much thought to Easter yet, but I've downloaded a few devotional guides for my Kindle. I found this one site that suggested reading through the NT in 40 days and there was this whole explanation talking about how it would "transform" your life and bring you really close to God, etc. etc. etc. It sounded kind of funny like reading the NT was this magic pill or something, but opening the pages of the Bible with an expectant heart will surely bear fruit.

Any Lenten ideas to share?

Worst Fears Realized

Okay, that title may be a bit over-dramatic, but I did have to face two of my bigger fears recently. They just happened to be parenting moments, too.

1) Gruesome injuries. I shudder when I hear the word "stitches." I meticulously hide the poisons and the chokeables. And I wonder on occasion what range of injuries I will have to attend to as a mother. Sometimes out of interest and sometimes out of dread.

2) Russian (and/or foreign) hospital stay. It's a different culture, a different language, and a different medical philosophy. The problems start with forgetting your slippers...



So David ushered us into new parenting realms last week when he had a scalding water incident. He reached up to drink from a mug on the table that happened to contain hot freshly brewed tea (we actually use the same mugs for plain drinking water). Both Andrei and I were home and worked together to get him under cold water and try to figure out what to do. The skin was peeling off in some places if that gives you an idea.

The next day, David and I were admitted to the hospital for a week's stay (though the doctors immediately gave us a grim prognosis and said it would be at least 2 weeks).



Here are some of the ways the fears above are founded in reality:

Of injuries: We are mortal. We feel physical pain. We cannot protect children from getting injured, and we will witness them experiencing pain. Our nurturing instincts as parents will cause US pain.

Of hospital stay: Culture shock is real. The Russian medical system is not perfect. Even when the medical care is good, no Russian mother is going to tell you she's "comfortable" staying on the ward with her child. Everyone wants to go home. When you are in the hospital, you have no control over: your roommates or neighbors, which staff is on duty and when they will do their rounds, the food served to you, and the noise level at any given moment when you are trying to sleep.

Even as I knew David's life was not in danger and that everything was in God's hands, it didn't stop me from experiencing anguish. I wept when I saw my baby in pain, and I cried as my husband walked away, leaving us alone in the hospital for the first night.

As we settled into life on the ward, I was constantly torn between wanting to put on a happy face and yet wanting to be compassionate towards the other mothers. Stealing a glance at their faces, I could tell we were all thinking along the same lines. Behind the stoic facade, we were all ready to burst out crying. It took several days to break the ice, longer than you'd think. You would imagine that having so much in common (about 90% of the injuries we saw had happened the exact same way), there would be lots to talk about. But it was hard to talk about at first. However, my husband and mother-in-law did just fine at making friends there. And of course, David was as charming as ever.

I've had to call on the Lord's mercies lots of times in the past week and a half. We still have some sickness in the house, and are ever aware of our human weaknesses. Interestingly enough, our small group Bible study (canceled last week on account of the accident) has been gearing up to discuss the topic "Trials and Temptations."

Collisions

My husband ironing his suit for his cousin's funeral, as I loaded the dishwasher, at 1 am. That was what our Good Friday looked like.

The movable dates of the Easter season cause it to coincide with different events each year. This year Resurrection Sunday falls on one person's birthday, next year-on someone else's. An early Easter date means we might still be in the dead of winter. This year's late date (by the Orthodox calendar) means we're actually seeing signs of spring. And as always, it is pussy willows which are decorating kitchen tables and which accompanied believers to their Palm Sunday services last week.

There is always a lot going on in "real" life when a Christian holiday comes along. For example, who has time for Advent in the middle of final exams?

This year's Holy Week concludes with Labor Day weekend. People have been out grilling their first shish kabobs of the season, during the last few days of the Great Fast. Interesting how that happens. Today, on Holy Saturday, a local Christian school was having a sale that people were getting up early to go shop at. Meanwhile, Andrei has lost his cousin; his mom-her nephew; his aunt-her son.

Today I sang "Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?" as I rocked David to sleep in his stroller in the front hallway.

The joy of hope (and hope of joy) of Salvation is hard to separate out from the pain and suffering of everyday life. Though Jesus is alive, we can't see him now, and we have to live the rest of our lives on Earth without some of our loved ones, who have already departed. But then there is the thought that we will see them again. So it all kind of forms a circle: the beauty of the universe, yet marred by sin, which is overcome by Christ, who will come, but for now we're still here, waiting for the beauty of a new universe.

11:24 pm. Too early to proclaim, "He is Risen"?