Bless me or block me.

Just submitted my application to be a graduate student in agricultural communications at Oklahoma State University... praying that God either blesses me or blocks me. <3 All there is to do now is wait.

Can't say "fierce" without saying "fear"

Can you tell from the title that I've watched eight episodes of America's Next Top Model today?

As I said in my last post, I've had time for a few things today, television, writing, and thinking (of mostly good thoughts). Reflections of the past get to me, but there's one thing in particular that stood out to me...

A few weeks back, Dad told a good family friend that I had been accepted into Vanderbilt School of Nursing, and at the last minute, I withdrew from the program. This family friend's reaction was, "Oh, she must have gotten scared." 

Yes, I was accepted into both Johns Hopkins University's and Vanderbilt Univerity's nursing programs. Both of these schools are elite and provide top-notch nursing education. Yes, my husband and I moved to Nashville, Tennessee, partially because I was going to attend Vanderbilt University. Yes, at the last minute, after attending orientation and enrollment, I withdrew from Vanderbilt and gave up on Nursing. And, yes, I was scared.

I was scared of paying over $100,000 to study a field that I believe has been corrupted by our government, by greed, and by the extreme amount of lawsuits people press against medical professionals. I was scared to pay over $100,000 to go into a field that I wasn't 100% was my "calling" (if there is such a thing). I was scared to devote the rest of my life to a career--because I would have to to pay off student loans--where I wasn't sure my talents would be utilized in the best way possible. I was scared of becoming a part of the problem. I was scared of creating a poor medical experience for my patients like the one I went through with my grandmother, like the one I went through with my knee injury, and like the many poor experiences people have seeking healthcare. I was scared of wasting two years of my life in school studying a field I wasn't sure about. I was scared of becoming a part of the problem.

I know that every person who becomes a doctor is primarily in the business to make peoples' lives better. Doctors, nurses, EMTs, paramedics, occupational therapists, physical therapists, medical assistants/secretaries, and all of the other people working in hospitals and clinics aren't inherently bad people. It's a bad system. If you want to argue with me, please try. I sure do need my faith in healthcare restored. I digress.

I'll readily admit that I was scared. But, it took a great deal more courage to withdraw from a very prestigious school after I had already moved 15 hours away from home than to continue on the narrow path that would surely lead to secure employment with great pay. Now I am afraid for different reasons.

I'm afraid to pursue my passion for writing, knowing that it may not lead to the most cushy lifestyle. I'm afraid to apply to another graduate school, having just backed out of one. I'm afraid to move again. I'm afraid to chase curiosity not knowing where it will take my husband and myself. 

I'm pretty sure it was John Wayne who said "Courage is being scared to death... and saddling up anyway." So here I am, saddling up for what is sure to be a crazy ride.

Epiphany for you, epiphany for you, epiphanies for everyone!

Laying around sick has a few advantages. Literally, only three (that I can think of at this exact moment in time).

1) Time to watch an entire season of America's Next Top Model (cycle 22). Side note: Currently considering applying for the next cycle... Lawwwd have mercy if that ever comes to fruition.

2) Time to write blogs about whatever I want.

3) Time to have thoughts. (Trying to have good ones.)

So I was working on my personal statement for graduate school, and reflecting on my time as an undergraduate student, and I got to thinking about study abroad, and how it changed my life. I wondered how I could enjoy being in a new country so much, but be so frustrated by being so lost in Nashville, and it dawned on me:

I was most comfortable with being lost when I was being lost on purpose.

Ty didn't understand it immediately, so I gave him this comparison: It's like when you're trying to take a selfie, and you can't take a really pretty one, so you just take an ugly duckling face selfie instead, and love it, because at least you're being ugly on purpose.

Ty's not a girl or conceited, so he didn't get my analogy either.

This epiphany isn't really life changing, it's more like life acknowledging, and it truly resonated with me. I'm not completely sure what that means, but I'm going to think on it and keep you posted.

Gram's Poem

Death

A poem by Margaret Hoss

My bones and flesh are buried

deep underneath the soil.

The robins fly high above,

free of care and toil.

The dew and morning mist

still lie glistening in the dawning day.

And where am I today?

Not here, I can say.

Up above and beyond,

a spirit soaring free;

free from lowly grave.

Life was fun and fascinating,

but no more do I crave.

Because I now will see the world

as a lesson I have learned.

I have gone on farther,

no longer within a body encumbered.

So do not grieve.

I do not sleep or slumber.

My life has been an adventure in so many ways.

True to myself I’ve tried to be.

It has been a truth

that has truly set me free.

I wish to say

to all my loved ones I leave behind,

Step up to life!

Embrace it to your bosom.

Do not hang your head and whine.

Live life fully and joyfully

Drink deeply of its pleasures.

Enjoy the pure simple treasures.

God has made us divine.

He has given us a passage to travel through time.

We always were – before birth,

and live beyond the bones and flesh.

I am going on in great anticipation.

I have passed the test.                     

Margaret Hoss, 2002                              

Somewhere over the rainbow...

A rainbow can have as many different meanings as there are raindrops that fall from the sky. It's the covenant between us and God protecting us from a wiping-out-the-entire-human-race-minus-a-few rain storm. It's the path Leprechauns follow to gold and happiness. It's a man named Roy G. Biv who helps teach children the color spectrum. It's a refraction of light on water droplets. It's the symbol of the end of a storm and the dawning of a new, more fruitful time. It's one of the many ways nature can show both its wrath and beauty in the span of minutes. Sometimes it's all of those things and more at once.

These past few days have definitely led me to feel the full spectrum of human emotion--the good, the bad, and the ugly. On Friday, September 18th, Ty and I took a roundabout way home to Western Kansas in order to celebrate the life of my grandmother. 

Because it's a 15 hour drive to Sharon Springs from Nashville (not including traffic) we decided it would be better to fly so we could have more time with family without missing so much school and wearing out our vehicles. So, we did what any logical human being would do, and flew from Nashville to Denver, and then rode from Denver to Sharon Springs, cutting our trip time in about half. 

Ty and me pre-blast off. Funny anecdote about that... just the Thursday prior, one of the priests was talking about flying, and he said, "Don't pray for me, pray for the pilot! If he makes it, we all make it." So from now on, the 2938473 Our Father's I say before flying are for the purpose of the pilot's safe journey!

When we landed in Denver, my cousin, Madeline, and her husband, Brayton, were there to pick us up. They're currently living in Denver, so it was really nice of them to let us hitch a ride to Kansas with them. I really enjoyed catching up with them, hearing how their classes and work were going, and meeting their new "child", a very even-keeled Toy Poodle named Daisy.

By the time we got to Sharon Springs it was already around 8PM, but we made time to eat some delicious cheesy jalepeno dip that my mother made, to socialize with Dustin, Kayla, Sophia, and Dominic, and even hang out with my sister Savanna(h), her manfriend, Tyler, and his little man, Tyler Jet. There are too many Tyler's in this family. (Savannah and Tyler, if you're reading this, can I call Little Ty "TJ" from here on out?) 

That night was actually a ton of fun, because we were all so excited to see each other and catch up. Also, because we discovered that multiple people in our family have alter egos. For those of you who don't know, I have an alter personality named "Rattlesnake Sue." The rootinest tootinest rattlesnake killinest cowgirl there ever was. Well, apparently my dad has an alter ego that is THE Hulk Hogan... and little Ty becomes little Hulk. I'm pretty sure the thing that won over Little Ty (TJ?) was dad literally ripping off his shirt and saying, "I am a truuueee Americannnn!" So I'm not sure why but little Hulk didn't like Rattlesnake Sue, and we had some fun with that. Little Hulk/Little Ty/(TJ?) also taught us some sick dance moves. I'm not sure where he learned them, but I need to meet up with his teacher! This kid could actually incorporate wiping snot off of his nose into a pretty fluid dance move without batting an eyelash. (A talent that would come in handy now considering I caught his cold, and boy is it a doosy.)

The next day with all that fun behind us, we got up, got dressed, and headed out to Grandma Hoss's house for the first time since her passing. I'm not sure what I expected to feel, but it just kind of felt weird. When I walked into her house, I was flooded with that warm feeling I always get from stepping into Grandma's house. I spent so much of my childhood and early adulthood there, with mostly pleasant memories. My pleasant memories were colored bitter with the knowledge that a home is just a house when the people you love aren't there.

So we milled about the property, finding odd jobs to do until it was time for Gram's Celebration of Life. Paul McNall, a local non-denominational pastor led the celebration. He presided over both my grandpa Hoss's and grandpa Mitchell's funerals. Gram also found great comfort in him, from praying with him for her daughter, Maralee, or speaking and praying with him as she battled cancer. It was great to have him there. His wife played the accordion, an instrument my gram always loved, to the song Amazing Grace. 

Since I'd written a visual narrative from an interview with Gram, my aunt had asked me if I wanted to speak at Gram's Celebration of Life. I said yes, because I really wanted to find a way to honor my grandmother, but I had so many doubts. Would I do her justice? Would I be able to keep it together? Would people think that someone else should have spoken? Would my talk be too long or too short? All doubts aside, I gave a short talk that maybe lasted a few minutes (something I think Gram would have liked) I made it through without totally breaking down, and when I finished, people clapped. I'm not sure whether people usually clap at funerals because I haven't been to one in quite a while, but I'm guessing that means I did alright.

After I gave my talk, my aunt, Lisa, read a poem that Gram had written about death back in 2002. I might be paraphrasing, but this is what Lisa said, and I totally agree: "When I first read it, I thought it was about death in general, but as I'm reading it now, I'm realizing that she was writing about her own death." I'll put her poem in another blog post, because it really is beautiful.

At the end of the service, we did a balloon release with bright yellow balloons. Grandma loved bright colors, so it was perfect. I think most people symbolize balloon releases as taking prayers and messages up to heaven, but I kind of thought of it as Gram's last act of adding beauty to a place that seemed so morose. Like her bright spirit had carried on through those whose lives she had impacted. Maybe that's just me being sentimental. 

When it had drawn to a close, we all made our way down to the shop to share a meal among family and friends. (Is it really a Hoss party if there isn't food and beer involved?) I met some family I didn't even know I had, and shared some thoughts with some of my closest loved ones.

Dakota refusing to let me get a candid picture of him.

My cousin Isabel, the self-proclaimed "starving artist" and Dakota together.

My husband and three-weeks-younger-than-I-am cousin, Chance.

And my aunts and uncles. Joke intended. If you don't get it, you're definitely not related.

After Gram's celebration of life, I walked through the prairie by her house on my own, and I cried. I thought of my gram and how I'll miss her dearly. I thought of how I was walking through the countryside that she loved so dearly. I thought about how life changes so much, how short it all is, but how long at the same time. 

Thoughts like that stick in your heart and can destroy you, so I make an effort not to dwell on them for long. I gave myself the walk from the pasture to the shop, and that was the end of it. Then I let my mind wander to more pleasant topics.

Like this pretty little girl's smile.

Or how amazing it is that kids can find such happiness beating the crap out of a literal piece of crap with a baseball bat.

Or how everyone can find joy in new life, no matter what age.

Or how being around children brings out the child in us all. Which reminds me of these verses (Matthew 18:1-5) 1At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who, then, is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” 2He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them. 3And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. 4Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. 5And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me."

Before all the family had left, we met once again atop the hill to spread Gram's ashes across the prairie, which had been her desire. The Catholic Church believes in spreading ashes over a permanent place, and typically family farms don't qualify. This was different. Grandma wanted to be spread over God's creation, and what could be more permanent than that? Before we spread her ashes, family member took turns sharing thoughts and feelings about Gram. Some were short sweet words, some were brief and deeply felt, some cut short by unbridled sobs, and others yet were quirky anecdotes--all were a perfect testament of our grandmother, great-grandmother, mother, aunt, and friend.

The day ended on a good note. My cousins, Isabel and Michelle, stayed at grandma's house that night with my brother, Dakota, my husband, Ty, and me. My uncle, Wyatt, came over and chatted and before the night was over some new family friends showed up and we spent the night talking about all things country.

Morning came and a new day dawned upon us, whether we were ready to say goodbye to yesterday or not. We celebrated my aunt, Maralee's 33rd birthday with cake and presents, our family members said their goodbyes, and I spent most of the day going through old pictures and cleaning Gram's house from the carnage that is typical of a family gathering. Ty and I went to the movies in Sharon Springs that night. Tickets are only five dollars a piece (they only take cash or check), and with popcorn, a dill pickle, and a large pop, we only spent $14.50. The Strand Theatre is a pretty cool place, because it's mostly run by volunteers, so it's great to see how wonderful something can be when members of the community step up and pitch in.

After the movie we visited my sister, Savanna(h), and her manfriend, Tyler, at their home in Sharon Springs. It's always weird visiting my baby sister when she's living her grownup life. We had a nice "grownup" talk and then Ty and I headed back out to grandma's house.

Another morning was upon us, and our time in Wallace County was passing so much more quickly than I had intended. Mom and Tucker came to see us before they headed back home to Manhattan, Kansas. Ty and I continued cleaning and going through pictures, we spent some time visiting with Dad and Wyatt, we went to Goodland to run some errands, and we brought the night in teaching Ty about how silage is made and used. (It's the next topic for Reminisce Visual Narratives, so stay tuned!)

Ty watching from his perch on Wyatt's flatbed pickup.

Wyatt's dog, Snoopy, waiting for some pets.

Dad standing in front of the bi-directional he was using to make/form/pack the pile of silage.

Dad and Wyatt driving tractors over the pile, even as the sun sets.

An artistic depiction of tractor headlights.

The silage chopper pouring freshly chopped sorghum into the truck.

Sadly, after that night, our last day in Western Kansas was nigh upon us. We spent the next morning packing and working online (for me) and studying (for Ty). We had a brief conversation with my uncle, Wyatt, said our goodbyes, and headed thirty miles West to my dad's house. Before too long, we were driving to Denver.

Dakota met us in Goodland for our "last supper" in Kansas for the time being. It was at Steak n' Shake. (We keep things classy 'round here.) I had a buttery burger (the South is growing on me) and we had a great conversation. Dakota's going to school for respiratory therapy, and I am so proud of him for how hard he's been working at his part-time job, CNA classes, and his actual classes. Now that I'm typing it, I'm so impressed at how busy he's been, and I'm sure he'll continue along the path to success, whatever that means to him personally.

Ty, Dad, and I left from Goodland and made the three-hour-long trip to Denver where we stayed the night before getting up (too) bright and early for our 9AM flight to Nashville. I kept things interesting by booking a hotel 22.1 miles away from the airport (I thought it was 2.21 miles away) and (almost) losing both my phone and driver's license. Thank God my head is attached. Thank God Ty and Dad were patient with me. And Thank God I found both my phone and driver's license.

On a more unfortunate note, over the last couple of days, I've developed a raging head cold, so our going away picture looked more like this: 

Of course Ty looks handsome as always. I resorted to the duck face since smiling was painful.

I guess I always have mixed feelings about Wallace County and now's as good of time as any to reflect on them. I've had more than my fair share of hard times there, and made more than my fair share of mistakes growing up. I'm still growing up. This trip was made even more complex since we were going home to say our final goodbye to Grandma Hoss. But, like Gram, I find so much peace and beauty in the prairie there. The prairie is my rainbow. It's faced so many hard times: drought, flash flood, fires, winds, tornadoes, extreme heat and cold, the heavy force of people, animals, vehicles, and heavy machinery, blinding light, the darkest night, and more, but somehow it's still there, still persevering, still producing beautiful food for livestock, and for our souls. It's God's untouched creation laid out before us, his masterpiece for the few of us lucky enough to lay eyes upon it. So as long as there's a prairie out there in Wallace County, even through all the happy and sad moments, there'll always be a home there for me.

Thoughts on adulthood...

The moment you become an adult is the moment you think back and realize, "My parents/aunts/uncles/grandparents were right."

Spider Ty

I think I had it more "together" in fifth grade than I do now, because this will be the second time I'm citing my fifth-grade-self in this blog... Back in the good-ol'-days, I decided that I would fix all of my problems with a "happy book." The idea was that every single day I would write down the things that had made me happy that day. And, because I thought it was such a wonderful idea, I bought six spiral ring notebooks, wrote in sharpie marker "My Happy Book" on the front, and wrote a name on the inside cover--one for each of my family members.

I don't know whether  any of my family ever used theirs, but I used mine, for about a month, and then it turned into a diary, which isn't really relevant now, I guess. The idea is that a "happy book" has been proven to be a really powerful tool for increasing mental well-being. 

At 21, I don't keep a diary (unless you consider this blog a diary), and I don't keep a "happy book" either. Maybe, though, I can start with a "happy post" where I list the good things about my day. I'm starting to realize Nashville just might not be my cup of tea, but that doesn't mean that it's a totally stale drink I should toss down the drain. 

Lately, lists seem to be the best way to proceed for me, so I'll start there.

Happy Post

1) Ty and I have a place to live, and a fridge full of food... (Note to self: Buy more ice cream.)

And a husband who humors me by taking pictures of me in church clothes.

2) There are two plane-tickets with our names on it for a flight back home, so we can honor one of the most influential people in my life.

3) I have a great camera, computer, and internet, so I can take awesome pictures, and meet with new people.

4) The Red Cross was so busy with blood donors that they didn't have time to honor my appointment. Okay,,. that's kind of negative, and it really upsets me when people don't honor their word, but I am so glad that people are donating blood--it's a really easy way to save a life!

5) Several people back a K-State have agreed to serve as references for me--I'm going to be applying to an Ag Communications program at Oklahoma State University. This is great because one of these people was so unbelievably understanding about my decision not to attend Vanderbilt. It's always a great feeling when someone so whole-heartedly accepts you for who you are.

Their mascot is Pistol Pete... I wonder if there's room for another mascot that goes by the name of "Rattlesnake Sue"? (AKA the rootin tootinest, snakey-killin'est alter ego there ever was.)

6) I have an interview on Tuesday to be a substitute teacher. I think it is definitely going to be a "glamorous" job, even though Ty insists otherwise.

7) Papi is super cute.

And secretly a sumo wrestler... whaaaa??

8) Netflix, you da' real MVP.

9) Good hair days.

10) A husband who still loves me after I send him pictures like this...

And I suppose people who still read my blog after this picture....

11) Tried my hand at book binding... let's be honest, the first attempt was ugly, but, as Ty said in surprise when I showed him the finished product: "It looks like a book!"

12) Finally played Scrabble against Ty... and won! 

By like 48 points... with the word Qat. Not sure what it means, but I'm guessing it's something like "Kelsie creamed Ty at Scrabble and is never going to let him forget it."

13) A beautiful church to go to on Sundays.

14) Had a "Czech Style" Pilsner the other night. I almost forgot how good beer can taste. :) (Yes, Jesus drank alcohol too.)

15) My husband has gotten several interviews for accounting internships... basically because he's awesome, smart, and looks good in a suit.

"Spider Ty, Spider Ty, does whatever a Spider Ty does." - David Stelting.

Fifteen things in the happy post isn't too shabby. I probably won't write a happy post every day, or every month even, but maybe it will be enough to mentally make a "happy list" from time to time.

Please Grant this Rant

By: Ty Stelting
Sorry regular readers, I have been meaning to write a post for a few days now but here it is; I am now writing one. I would like to say thank you for all the people who do read our stuff and share it. You are what keep me going. So Kelsie and I have been in Nashville for a month and about a week now and I have been desperately needing out of this crazy city ever since…Okay not desperately, but it would be nice to get away from the insanity, because I am slowly becoming a part of it.

We went to a lake (see the pictures below again, in the last post) and the views were amazing and then we went swimming in Cooks Recreational area and that was very busy, but fun. It was a part of the same lake but on the opposite side. It took us about 30 minutes to get there and we had to pay $4 but it was worth it seeing all the kids have fun and soaking some good ol’ vitamin D.

In speaking of pictures, I would like to commend Kelsie in the fact that she has been trying so hard to get her business going, Reminisce. She has made flyers, business cards, releases, and products. She has done photography segments for free on the streets to get some practice. She will be successful the second she gets the opportunity because she truly tries as hard as she can. Here are the pictures she took:

It rained here all day which made my plan to stay lively or get some exercise even harder. I managed to fill out the 20^th job application I have filled out and don’t even get me started on how much time Kelsie has spent on hers. We keep getting interviews but no success and it has really hurt since college was supposed to set you up and give you the relief of, “you have nothing to worry about for your career now!” However, they leave out the part that says “if you already had it lined up before you leave.”

When you come to a new town you basically lose all of your connections and must start over. You still have references but they hardly ever get called. You have nothing but your experiences and I don’t think people can fully appreciate the things we did because they may not fully understand the entire program entailed or “a trip to Washington D.C.” doesn’t sound like a stretch anymore. Kansas standards are not lower but they are different and that perspective to employers gets lost in translation.

We are doing okay though, and we still have interviews and we will make it through. I mean the Prague Blog was full of stories where we faced very difficult times where we slept in an airport or had very tiny amenities. We got lost all the time, missed buses, and waited forever in places. Being lost in Nashville is now not so common for me. I feel as if I can find my way around most places now. It is getting easier to live here.

My classes are great but they have been very difficult, especially tax. The law and stuff is very difficult to follow sometimes. I can’t wait to start auditing and assurance but that is enough about my boring accounting.

I would also like to take a moment to say that we have been a part of a great church and I hope that if someone gets to visit us we can show them how nice it is. They are very involved in the community and I believe they are the most traditional Catholic Church I have ever been to.

 Our time here will improve my driving skills and patience on the road. I hope to get an internship here in the spring because the pay is great and the firms are very sizable. I hope that we do get more out of this experience and I know we won’t know what we really got out of Nashville until we move away from here. I love my wife and dog and as long as I have them, then I can be happy just about anywhere. I feel truly blessed for all that we have.

I hope to be writing more in the future about more activities, we will be heading home in a week. It will be great to get home, I just wish it was under different conditions. I would like to dedicate this post to Margaret Hoss, a wonderful person and dear friend in my life. I love her dearly as she made it apparent what the definition of down-to-Earth was and she was one of the most helpful people I know. She always had great stories and somehow remembered everything except how to pronounce my last name. J She truly made an impact on my life and anyone else that had the pleasure to meet her.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this 1 month long rant condensed into one blog post.  

Percy Priest and God's Church

Two nights ago, Ty and I ventured out into the wild blue yonder... Okay, well, we ventured south of Nashville--which is basically the same thing--to Percy Priest Lake. We were planning on going swimming, but apparently the parks here close at 7PM. So we just ended up walking around this lake.

I caught this nice view right before the sun was about to go down. I enhanced the picture a little bit so that you can really see how it looked in person.

Then this duck came out, and I just had to get a picture of his dark form against the sunset waters. Even though I'm pretty adamant about how disgusting ducks are, this little guy was very beautiful.

As we walked around, we looked out over the lake, and saw these guys fishing. I thought about how nice it would be to sit on a boat in the middle of a lake, untouched by what's going on around me, waiting for a fish to bite, but not caring whether one did or not. Man, would that be peace and relaxation.

Sometimes I wonder why we build all these fancy churches when we we just have to step outside to worship and admire God's creations. When you appreciate that, the whole world is your church. :)

Flowers

I don't know what to feel, but I'm trying not to stop and think on it for too long. When I do stop and think, it's all a blur of emotions. It's like I stepped into the period between night saying goodbye and dawn saying hello. There's so much confusion. Is the day coming, or is the night?

Someone told me once that people are like flowers, and God only plucks the perfect ones to bring to heaven, and at the time that resonated with me. Of course, people die too young, and that would make sense that they had passed some sort of test already and were so wonderful that they got to go to heaven, but now I know that's all wrong.

My grandma was a beautiful flower. She wasn't perfect; none of us are. She could stand as sturdy as an oak, as flexible as a bow string, as determined as the sun, as mysterious as the midnight sky, as kind as a hot shower after a long day of work, and as reliable as the ground beneath your feet. So when I think that people only get into heaven once they've bloomed, I can't quite agree, because my grandma lived to be 84 years old, and I know for sure that she had been in bloom for quite some time.

So when I stop to think about my grandma, I think about what an amazing person she was to have in my life. We definitely didn't always get along, but you can't get along with someone 100% of the time. I think of how sad it was that she had to suffer before she went to heaven to meet Jesus and to reunite with the rest of her family in heaven. I think that it was good she was able to go quickly enough when her time came and that her suffering didn't last years on end like it could have.

I smile to myself when I think of her first reunion with her family. Grandma was right a lot of the time, and if someone disagreed with her, she had to have an "I told you so" moment. So I imagine her standing next to Grandpa, walking up to her parents who were (understandably) concerned about her marrying a man 22 years older than her and saying, "Look at us now." I don't know why, but that thought just makes me smile and cry at the same time.

I wonder if I'll ever feel like she's watching over me before we get to reunite in heaven. Several of my friends have told stories of times when they've felt like their loved one was speaking to them from the other side. I hope that will happen to me because I already miss her like crazy.

And after those warming thoughts pass through my mind, I inevitably think of all the things that will be different now. I'm afraid of the first time I go back home to Western Kansas, and realize that I won't ever be going to "grandma's house" in the same way again. I won't be greeted with a hug and a smile when I walk through the door, and there won't be my grandma there offering to make me Schwann's chocolate chip cookies or chicken strips. She won't be sitting in her chair, snacking on a small candy bar, ready to talk with me about life, school, or even politics (which we stringently disagreed on about 90% of the time). She won't be there to tell me to go outside after we've been inside watching TV for too long, or encourage my siblings to go help Dad or Wyatt do some work around the ranch.

I won't be able to call her on the phone for a quick, thirty-minute chat, and end up saying goodbye after two hours.

I won't be able to be certain that there's a card coming in the mail for my birthday with some illegible handwriting and some money tucked in. I won't be pleasantly (or unpleasantly, depending on the occasion) surprised when one of her letters comes in the mail.

I won't have her there at my next graduation (if I decide to go back to school). She won't be there to see Ty's and my first child (if we are blessed with one). She won't be able to make the trip to come see our new home, which she had planned on before cancer got in the way.

And then I remind myself that God has his own plan, and that I'm grateful that her suffering came to an early end.

And then I think that it might be another sixty years before I get to see my grandma face to face, and I cry all over again.

And then, in the midst of all the tears, I have the thought that sends me over the edge: I forgot to ask her what her favorite kind of flower was.

The ramblings of a mourner

When you hear about people having cancer,  you can't really understand unless it's happened to someone in your family, at least that's how I felt. I couldn't fathom how suddenly cells in your own body became the enemy. I couldn't fathom how rapidly multiplying cells could be the source of so much pain. I didn't understand how slow and painfully cancer can move, but how quickly it could cause devastation.

I didn't understand any of this until July.

But really, the story begins early this year, when I heard from my Grandmother that she had a small piece of cancer on her ear and that they were cutting it off. It was extremely frustrating because between the first time they spotted it to the time they cut it off, it seemed to take forever. Why were they moving so slowly in cancer was so serious? Maybe because this one wasn't? Time passed, her cancer was cut off, and Grandma was on the mend. No more of that pesky, unfathomable cancer.

For the time being.

Then, in March, Grandma heard from a doctor with (as the story is told) an exceptionally terrible bedside manner, that she had another piece of cancer growing in her throat. I don't know what was going through my grandma's mind at that moment, but something definitely shifted. She didn't trust this doctor--not that she had ever been entirely trusting of doctors before, but this time it was somehow different. Between all of the stories of the poor care that others had received in and around our home town, she was scared. Something I came to understand when I spent some time in the hospital with her.

In July, she was admitted to the hospital in Goodland, Kansas. What's really unfortunate about this story was that it was entirely preventable. Earlier that same day, Gram had gone to a local hospital with one of her daughters. She had been fighting a MRSA infection which is already a huge threat to elderly patients, especially ones already fighting cancer. The infection wasn't getting better, so they had gone to the hospital in the hopes of getting her on an IV antibiotic. The doctor there immediately rejected her idea and sent her home.

That night, Grandma was in so much pain and misery, she called the ambulance to take her to the hospital. She thought she was dying. They took her to a different local hospital, and she was transferred to Hays. Her sodium levels were dangerously low, she had thrush in her mouth, and was still battling the MRSA infection and cancer. The hospitalist took one look at her and ordered IV antibiotics.

I'm still furious that she had to go through all of that when she could have easily been admitted to a hospital near home earlier that same day. I'm not going to pretend that I'm more qualified to know what's what in the medical profession than a doctor that's gone through med school or a PA that's gone through three years of preparation to care for patients, but I am beyond disappointed at the level of care that my grandma received, and it is a definite indicator of the failings of our medical system.

1) The doctor works for the patient. The patient through insurance, payments to the clinic, and even through their taxes helps fund the doctor's salary.

2) The healthcare system now is WAY too involved in CYA. Between the immense amount of paperwork, going to a hospital that accepts your type of insurance, social workers and whatever else, it's become a circus to get care.

3) Transfer of information is so difficult. Gram was in the hospital for days on end waiting for another office to send paperwork over to Hays.

4) The wait times. I understand hospitals are understaffed, but if a hospital is unable to care for patients, we need to change something. Either nurses need to be paid better, or the education needed to become a healthcare worker needs to decrease in favor of apprenticeships. But that all goes back to CYA. Gram would call and ask for pain medication, and it would be upwards of an hour before someone finally got around to bringing it to her.

5) The pride. I'm not saying all healthcare professionals are like this, but I've definitely experienced my fair share of it. Just like Gram going in to get IV antibiotics and not being given them, even though it is what she needed, we've all experienced things like this. I know doctors have gone to extreme amounts of schooling and are well-educated, but no one knows the patient's body better than the patient. And if it's something the patient really wants, what's wrong with humoring them (in a safe manner)?

I guess when I thought about going to school to be a nurse practitioner I kind of balked. Would I be adding to the problem? Would I be able to provide care in a way that I truly thought was best? Would I be able to provide solutions instead of just slapping a bandaid on the problem? And, lastly, would I be able to live with myself if I was the nurse practitioner that had sent a woman home, only to find out that hours later she was granted the same request that I had earlier denied to her detriment? Would I be able to hear people (like I am now) bashing the medical profession and all its flaws?

Probably not.

I think I could have enjoyed working with people and helping heal their various ailments. But my heart's just not there after everything my gram went through, and after all, don't patients deserve to have practitioners that whole-heartedly believe in what they are doing, and have their whole being devoted to improving the patients' lives?

Now I'm rambling. I won't post this on Facebook for tons of people to read, but it you do, I guess, this is my opinion. I don't hate doctors, and I generally think that they are good people that went into the profession to help people, but gosh, this sucks, and I wish things could have been different.

Yoga

You are not a recipe that's a few ingredients short. You don't have to add anything.

-Yoga teacher quotes