Yesterday Hannah had her first pediatric neurology appointment here preceded by an EEG. The results were a bit disappointing. The surgery she had a few months ago did not completely relieve her epilepsy. In addition we learned on Monday that parts of her brain are "slowing" and hindering her ability to learn and retain information. There is no cure for this "slowing". The plan is to have her remain on her medicine and "wait and see" until at least a year has passed from her procedure. Next summer she will be reevaluated and we will go from there.
We continue to appreciate your prayers for Hannah and all of us as we walk this path!
I'll keep you posted.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
The Lemonade Lesson
It's morning outside, one of those gray mornings with low clouds and the soothing drizzle of rain against the windows. I love these kind of days, mornings that yield a gentle light and hushed world. Autumn and Spring are often full of them. I find them profoundly relaxing.
I had an interesting experience last night. I was invited to an open house sponsored by a local medical school. Vickie and I went. We felt a little awkward as we hovered around the tea and lemonade, watching people who obviously knew each other chat happily about who-knows-what. The room was filled with medical students in various years of their studies and alumni from the sponsoring university. There were also medical school instructors and admissions staff wandering the room. Two things struck me as I sipped my lemonade: first, I was thrilled to death to be there. second, I was filled with a sense of purpose. "I can do this." I kept thinking to myself as Vickie (my wife) and I found some chairs along the wall. "With God's help, I can do this."
My whole life, doctors have had a kind of aura about them, some sort of "glow" that made them seem separate, somehow, from the rest of humanity. While I was in the military I was taught to step out of their way when they came down the hall, a sort of subservient gesture reminding me of their cultural stature. Last night, though, I began to realize that these normal-looking folks swarming around me were simply that: regular people who, for various reasons, have chosen to commit themselves to lives of service. Some in that place were well-dressed. Others wore shorts and sweat-shirts. Some chatted quickly to a small group, others laughed easily and seemed that they would be as comfortable in a park as in a room surrounded by eggheads.
Isn't it interesting the way we allow our perceptions to form judgements about other people before we have met them? I remember Y'shua (Jesus) warning us not to judge others. Yet, somehow, we manage to do just that. Last night I was reminded to again see people, regardless of their education or social standing, as simply people, all equal, all precious in God's sight and made in His image.
I'll keep you posted.
I had an interesting experience last night. I was invited to an open house sponsored by a local medical school. Vickie and I went. We felt a little awkward as we hovered around the tea and lemonade, watching people who obviously knew each other chat happily about who-knows-what. The room was filled with medical students in various years of their studies and alumni from the sponsoring university. There were also medical school instructors and admissions staff wandering the room. Two things struck me as I sipped my lemonade: first, I was thrilled to death to be there. second, I was filled with a sense of purpose. "I can do this." I kept thinking to myself as Vickie (my wife) and I found some chairs along the wall. "With God's help, I can do this."
My whole life, doctors have had a kind of aura about them, some sort of "glow" that made them seem separate, somehow, from the rest of humanity. While I was in the military I was taught to step out of their way when they came down the hall, a sort of subservient gesture reminding me of their cultural stature. Last night, though, I began to realize that these normal-looking folks swarming around me were simply that: regular people who, for various reasons, have chosen to commit themselves to lives of service. Some in that place were well-dressed. Others wore shorts and sweat-shirts. Some chatted quickly to a small group, others laughed easily and seemed that they would be as comfortable in a park as in a room surrounded by eggheads.
Isn't it interesting the way we allow our perceptions to form judgements about other people before we have met them? I remember Y'shua (Jesus) warning us not to judge others. Yet, somehow, we manage to do just that. Last night I was reminded to again see people, regardless of their education or social standing, as simply people, all equal, all precious in God's sight and made in His image.
I'll keep you posted.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
The Family of Believers . . .
It's Saturday evening. Shabbat comes to a close as the sun sets. We spent most of the day at the synagogue. While it's always a blessing to fellowship with other believers, my visit there was tinged with a hint of sadness. I do miss the times of fellowship in Philadelphia. We were only there for 3 1/2 years, a relatively short time. But, during that time, we met some good people and certainly were blessed by God's Presence.
Change is usually never easy. I am grateful for the godly brothers and sisters we met this morning. I am grateful, too, for those we left behind on the East Coast. May God bring us all back together in the world to come!
I'll keep you posted.
Change is usually never easy. I am grateful for the godly brothers and sisters we met this morning. I am grateful, too, for those we left behind on the East Coast. May God bring us all back together in the world to come!
I'll keep you posted.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
God is good
I went outside to pray this morning. Doing so is a new luxury to which I can become easily accustomed. Unlike Philadelphia where our "backyard" consisted of a large parking lot and thin strip of grass our backyard here is an actual yard: a gently sloping hill covered with grass, bushes, and tall evergreen trees. I stood out there and closed my eyes. It's a veritable paradise. The morning air had just a nip of chill in it, enough to remind me that summer was fading and is autumn on its way. The scent of morning dew and evergreen greeted me as I slowly walked among the trees, pine needles crunching softly beneath my feet. What a perfect place to talk to God and a perfect place in which to hear Him talk back. I returned to the house invigorated, challenged, and encouraged. I'm beginning to believe that nature can preach a more powerful and convincing sermon concerning God's goodness and love than can any golden-tongued preacher.
God has been good to us. My lovely wife celebrated another birthday yesterday. We have finally been approved for food stamps (no easy task in Oklahoma my experience has shown me), and the kids have resumed school in earnest. Of course there are still challenges to face, indeed seemingly more with each passing day: Vickie is still in need of a job, I learned yesterday that an old foot injury of mine will require corrective surgery, and finances as always are tight. But you know, in spite of all of this, God has continued to show His faithfulness. Sometimes He demonstrates this to us directly. Other times He does so through the kindness of family and friends. Either way, I am reminded of the Biblical verse in the first chapter of James that tells us that God is the source of all good things.
He truly is.
I'll keep you posted.
God has been good to us. My lovely wife celebrated another birthday yesterday. We have finally been approved for food stamps (no easy task in Oklahoma my experience has shown me), and the kids have resumed school in earnest. Of course there are still challenges to face, indeed seemingly more with each passing day: Vickie is still in need of a job, I learned yesterday that an old foot injury of mine will require corrective surgery, and finances as always are tight. But you know, in spite of all of this, God has continued to show His faithfulness. Sometimes He demonstrates this to us directly. Other times He does so through the kindness of family and friends. Either way, I am reminded of the Biblical verse in the first chapter of James that tells us that God is the source of all good things.
He truly is.
I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Watts Happening
I almost died the other day.
I was installing the dryer into the house a few days ago. We had gotten a new electric plug for it. You know the kind: big heavy cord covered with thick rubber with that obnoxiously large connecter at the end baring three metal prongs like some primordial snake. On the other end were three corresponding metal clips which I had to screw into the back of the dryer. It suddenly occurred to me that I wasn't sure if the plug end was the right type. Without thinking (which is always dangerous) I quickly slipped the plug into the wall to see if it would fit.
Now, before I go on, let me say that any smart, experienced handy-man would have made sure that they turned off the electricity to the dryer outlet before attempting any work on it. Logic and common sense dictate such an action. Sadly, I was apparently in short supply of both that night.
The plug slipped into the outlet. The metal prongs at the other end of the cord were touching each other and right next to my hand. Before I knew what happened, an incredible bolt of electricity, white-hot, burst from the end of the cord. I jumped four feet in the air. My wife, who was watching with interest, cried out, "Troy Fuller! Are you alright?" Okay, my wife hasn't called me 'Troy Fuller' since, well, she's actually never called me by my full name. I knew I was in trouble when she yelled that. The kids tumbled downstairs from their bedrooms. "What was that?" they cried. "We saw lightening!" It was a true miracle that I wasn't electrocuted especially considering the powerful voltage that flows into dryers.
I'm no handyman but necessity is the mother of invention or, in this case, life-risking handy-man work. Needless to say, I will be retiring my screwdrivers and drills pretty soon and trading them in for scalpels and textbooks.
May that day come quickly in and our time!
I'll keep you posted.
I was installing the dryer into the house a few days ago. We had gotten a new electric plug for it. You know the kind: big heavy cord covered with thick rubber with that obnoxiously large connecter at the end baring three metal prongs like some primordial snake. On the other end were three corresponding metal clips which I had to screw into the back of the dryer. It suddenly occurred to me that I wasn't sure if the plug end was the right type. Without thinking (which is always dangerous) I quickly slipped the plug into the wall to see if it would fit.
Now, before I go on, let me say that any smart, experienced handy-man would have made sure that they turned off the electricity to the dryer outlet before attempting any work on it. Logic and common sense dictate such an action. Sadly, I was apparently in short supply of both that night.
The plug slipped into the outlet. The metal prongs at the other end of the cord were touching each other and right next to my hand. Before I knew what happened, an incredible bolt of electricity, white-hot, burst from the end of the cord. I jumped four feet in the air. My wife, who was watching with interest, cried out, "Troy Fuller! Are you alright?" Okay, my wife hasn't called me 'Troy Fuller' since, well, she's actually never called me by my full name. I knew I was in trouble when she yelled that. The kids tumbled downstairs from their bedrooms. "What was that?" they cried. "We saw lightening!" It was a true miracle that I wasn't electrocuted especially considering the powerful voltage that flows into dryers.
I'm no handyman but necessity is the mother of invention or, in this case, life-risking handy-man work. Needless to say, I will be retiring my screwdrivers and drills pretty soon and trading them in for scalpels and textbooks.
May that day come quickly in and our time!
I'll keep you posted.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Food Stamp Saga
It's Monday. As I type this I am sitting in a chair in the corner of the living room, the chair next to a set of large windows over-looking the backyard. This place is such a change from the life we knew in Philadelphia. Since we have been here he haven't once had a single police car, sirens roaring, scream past the house. In Philly we had become accustomed to busyness and crowds, cars loudly passing by and sirens at all times of the night. Here the afternoons are filled with children playing on their scooters in the street and the evenings are stone silent. I had forgotten that life could be like this.
I had an interesting experience last week. I spent the better part of a day standing in line and later sitting in the waiting room of the local social service food stamp office. This was the first time in my life I'd ever had to be in such a place petitioning for help. It was humbling, to say the least. I entered the austere government building, not quite sure what to expect. I stood in line with other people, waiting patiently as the slightly bored-looking workers behind the thick glass up front shuffled through what appeared to be reams and reams of forms. Finally it was my turn.
"I'm here to find out about food stamps!" What else could I say? Do they simply hand them too you? Did I need to offer a pint of blood? I had no clue.
The disinterested government worker in front of me pointed to the rear of the room. "You need to fill out the form and get back in line. Next!"
So it began. I left my precious spot in the queue and trudged to the rear of the waiting room, took the form, and sat down in one of the uncomfortable vinyl chairs. It took me about thirty minutes to fill out the twelve sheets (front and back) of requested data. Who lived with me? How much did I make? What were my expenses? I stood and obediently took my place at the back of the line which, miraculously, had diminished somewhat by this time. I waited again. To my right a baby was crying. There was the impatient sound of children as a young mother behind me struggled through the form I had just completed. An elderly couple to my left sat quietly in some chairs against the wall. They knew what to expect. Finally it was my turn again. The all-powerful Man Behind the Glass took my form, looked through it, stamped a few pages, then asked me to sit down and wait. Back to the uncomfortable chairs. I waited, and waited, and waited, and watched some TV, and waited, and waited, and read a bit, and waited, and looked around at the other folks. A young father to my left was trying to console an infant. And I waited. Most people avoided eye contact. At last I heard my name called. "Troy Fuller?" I stood.
"We got your form," the young lady who greeted me said. "You'll be receiving a letter in the mail with your appointment date in about 4-6 days."
And that was it. That was it? After so patiently waiting for hours and standing in line and enduring the uncomfortably intrusive forms, that was it? The young woman disappeared down the hall and I was left standing in the middle of the waiting room. What could I do? I took my hat (yes, I wear a hat in public. I know that fashion fell out of popularity about 60 years ago. I think it should be brought back) and I left the building. So ended the beginning of my experience with government social help.
I did finally get that promised letter. I have a meeting set up with a social counselor this coming Friday. It should be interesting.
I'll keep you posted.
I had an interesting experience last week. I spent the better part of a day standing in line and later sitting in the waiting room of the local social service food stamp office. This was the first time in my life I'd ever had to be in such a place petitioning for help. It was humbling, to say the least. I entered the austere government building, not quite sure what to expect. I stood in line with other people, waiting patiently as the slightly bored-looking workers behind the thick glass up front shuffled through what appeared to be reams and reams of forms. Finally it was my turn.
"I'm here to find out about food stamps!" What else could I say? Do they simply hand them too you? Did I need to offer a pint of blood? I had no clue.
The disinterested government worker in front of me pointed to the rear of the room. "You need to fill out the form and get back in line. Next!"
So it began. I left my precious spot in the queue and trudged to the rear of the waiting room, took the form, and sat down in one of the uncomfortable vinyl chairs. It took me about thirty minutes to fill out the twelve sheets (front and back) of requested data. Who lived with me? How much did I make? What were my expenses? I stood and obediently took my place at the back of the line which, miraculously, had diminished somewhat by this time. I waited again. To my right a baby was crying. There was the impatient sound of children as a young mother behind me struggled through the form I had just completed. An elderly couple to my left sat quietly in some chairs against the wall. They knew what to expect. Finally it was my turn again. The all-powerful Man Behind the Glass took my form, looked through it, stamped a few pages, then asked me to sit down and wait. Back to the uncomfortable chairs. I waited, and waited, and waited, and watched some TV, and waited, and waited, and read a bit, and waited, and looked around at the other folks. A young father to my left was trying to console an infant. And I waited. Most people avoided eye contact. At last I heard my name called. "Troy Fuller?" I stood.
"We got your form," the young lady who greeted me said. "You'll be receiving a letter in the mail with your appointment date in about 4-6 days."
And that was it. That was it? After so patiently waiting for hours and standing in line and enduring the uncomfortably intrusive forms, that was it? The young woman disappeared down the hall and I was left standing in the middle of the waiting room. What could I do? I took my hat (yes, I wear a hat in public. I know that fashion fell out of popularity about 60 years ago. I think it should be brought back) and I left the building. So ended the beginning of my experience with government social help.
I did finally get that promised letter. I have a meeting set up with a social counselor this coming Friday. It should be interesting.
I'll keep you posted.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,
We have been in Oklahoma City for a week. Where can I begin? So much has happened.
As many of you may recall, my daughter underwent brain surgery a couple of months ago in an effort to relieve her of ever-increasingly disruptive epilepsy. For seven weeks after her surgery she was seizure free. Every day that she lived seizure-free was a blessing. This past Tuesday we were getting ready for supper when my wife stopped me and told me to look at Hannah. Sure enough, despite our best efforts and greatest hopes, she was having a seizure. It was brief, but it was clear. We were devastated. Hannah was depressed. For seven years we have struggled with this through multiple anti-seizure medications and two surgeries. Now, after everything, she is still seizing. Of course we called her physicians in Philadelphia. They were concerned and gave me the name of a local epilepsy specialist. We appreciate prayers as we continue to bring this beast of epilepsy under control.
Despite this setback, God has reminded us of His faithfulness and ever-present reality. Today we were at the end of our rope. Vickie had a job interview this morning. She did well, but failed to land a job. We still needed a place to live. We have been living at a local hotel and our finances are drying up. By the time this afternoon rolled around, we were all pretty depressed and feeling defeated. What could we do? Where could we go? Where was God when we needed Him most? Within two hours of this crisis, God granted us a place to live with a rent that we could afford. As I type this, we have the keys to our humble duplex. It's not a palace, but it is a true miracle and we are incredibly overjoyed by God's miraculous provision. Even when our hope wavered, He remained faithful. God came through for us when it seemed there was no future.
Challenges remain: Vickie still has no job. Hannah struggles with her epilepsy. Finances are incredibly tight. I start college shortly. We are learning, though, that God is a God of provision, even when it seem impossible.
I'll keep you posted.
As many of you may recall, my daughter underwent brain surgery a couple of months ago in an effort to relieve her of ever-increasingly disruptive epilepsy. For seven weeks after her surgery she was seizure free. Every day that she lived seizure-free was a blessing. This past Tuesday we were getting ready for supper when my wife stopped me and told me to look at Hannah. Sure enough, despite our best efforts and greatest hopes, she was having a seizure. It was brief, but it was clear. We were devastated. Hannah was depressed. For seven years we have struggled with this through multiple anti-seizure medications and two surgeries. Now, after everything, she is still seizing. Of course we called her physicians in Philadelphia. They were concerned and gave me the name of a local epilepsy specialist. We appreciate prayers as we continue to bring this beast of epilepsy under control.
Despite this setback, God has reminded us of His faithfulness and ever-present reality. Today we were at the end of our rope. Vickie had a job interview this morning. She did well, but failed to land a job. We still needed a place to live. We have been living at a local hotel and our finances are drying up. By the time this afternoon rolled around, we were all pretty depressed and feeling defeated. What could we do? Where could we go? Where was God when we needed Him most? Within two hours of this crisis, God granted us a place to live with a rent that we could afford. As I type this, we have the keys to our humble duplex. It's not a palace, but it is a true miracle and we are incredibly overjoyed by God's miraculous provision. Even when our hope wavered, He remained faithful. God came through for us when it seemed there was no future.
Challenges remain: Vickie still has no job. Hannah struggles with her epilepsy. Finances are incredibly tight. I start college shortly. We are learning, though, that God is a God of provision, even when it seem impossible.
I'll keep you posted.
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