I decided to take the plunge and write about my recent experience with a hospital.

I was there to witness the birth of a grandchild. His mother was in top health, low risk, and intelligent. She went on the hospital tour, and was excited to be part of the healthcare team.

I was there as Nana, trying to stay in the background. What I saw was distressing, to say the least.

So here are some expectations while you’re in the hospital. And tips to keep you safe.

1. If you have questions, ask them. If you don’t get the answers you want, move up the chain until you do. Even on weekends, there’s always a chain of command. Start with your nurse, move to the charge nurse. Ask for the nursing supervisor. Whatever you need to do.

2. Keep notes. Especially if your care is not up to standard. You will need specifics when you’re talking to administration, if the nursing and or medical staff is not listening to you. Write down times, dates, names, etc.

3. Every shift, you should get a head to toe assessment from a nurse. It will be tailored to whatever your medical needs are. If your nurse is not putting a stethoscope on you, is not touching you, is not looking at you, but is just asking you a pain scale and walking out the door, this is not an assessment. This is below standard of care.

4. They keep hospitalizations brief, so education should be at the forefront. You should know how to take care of yourself when you get home. You should understand what medications you’re taking, and when. If they have not made this clear to you, ask them to.

5. Wash your hands. A lot. With soap and water, rubbing vigorously. Make sure everyone who comes in the room who is laying hands on you has washed their hands. With soap and water. Purell not good enough! For any invasive procedures that involve changing dressings, or inserting or taking things out of your body, hands should be washed, and gloves should be on. If not, do not let them treat you until these things are done. Staff should know to wash their hands, but if they don’t do it, tell them to.

6. If you can, bring somebody with you to the hospital that can be your advocate in the event that you are unable to speak or advocate for yourself. They can be your eyes and ears when you were not in your right mind. It’s also helpful because they can assist you in some of your care when the staffing is short – which is pretty much always.

7. If you don’t have a living will and advance directives, get them. You can go to the hospital and they will do it for free. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen families torn apart because the wishes of loved ones are not being met – usually because they have not been written down. While you are healthy, have the conversations you need to about what to do in the event of certain medical emergencies. Get it on paper. It’s peace of mind, in the medical staff will have it in your chart.

8. Cleanliness of the room is important – housekeeping should be changing the trash out when it is full (or before), and the surfaces in the room should be getting cleaned daily. For the over 48 hours we were in the postpartum room, the room was never cleaned beyond the trash emptied. There was actually food on the floor from the previous patient. The entire stay. Ask for your room to be cleaned if it doesn’t get cleaned. And if it still doesn’t get cleaned, take it up with administration.

9. Speak up! This is the hard part – although they ask you to be a part of the healthcare team, when you start asking questions or asking that standards be met, they will usually meet you with hostility, and consider you a “difficult patient”. If they’re really unhappy, they will bring out the “well, you can just leave AMA”. Do not do this under any circumstances. It’s against medical advice, and you will be stuck with the entire bill – insurance will not pay.

It makes me sad to write this – I’ve been a nurse for over 20 years. I’ve known better than to leave my love ones alone in a hospital – I’ve flown from far away to be with my dad for a surgery. I understand that staffing can be short. But I also understand that a conscientious healthcare provider will still get the job done, and provide safe care for their patients.

You are a part of the healthcare team – the most important part. Advocate for yourself. Bring someone to advocate for you. And don’t be afraid to ask questions.

Seven years ago an Australian Shepherd came into my life as an eight week old puppy.

I spent her first year training with her. Subsequently, she has turned into a great pet – well mannered, a great walking buddy, and my canine friend.

She’s definitely a herding dog – she’s always leading me around the house. She knows my habits, and she proceeds me.

My favorite part is the backward glance.

She checks to make sure I am still following her. If I stop walking, or turn back, she will either wait, or come back to me, waiting patiently for me to begin moving again.

This is one of the many valuable traits of my companion and pet. She looks after me.

If I ever feel alone, I just need to glance down.

Mitzi is always by my side.

It’s been an intense weekend.

Friday, in the wee hours, I joined my son, daughter in love, and her mother in welcoming our newest family member. Seeing a baby being born is always an amazing miracle. I’ve seen thousands of deliveries, working as an L&D nurse.

Getting to be present as my grandson took his first breathe was amazing. Words cannot adequately describe the feelings that rushed through me as he entered the world.

I also saw my son transform into a father, a beautiful instantaneous moment of intense love and gratification. My little boy had grown into a wonderful, caring man, and now, a father of a son. My grandson.

I watched my daughter in love do what millions of women have done over generations …she had natural labor, with no medication. She and my son worked together, in peace and calm and love, to bring new life into the world. It’s always an awesome sight – even more so as a family.

I went home hours after the birth, exhausted but joyful.

Friday was all about new life, and appreciating the miracle of birth.

Saturday was a different day altogether.

I loaded my exhausted son into my car and drove him over an hour to a dear friends house. My son had a photo shoot to do, and he was determined to get it done, despite having a barely 1 day old son, and the sheer exhaustion of two days with no sleep.

As he slept in the passengers seat on the drive south, I recalled the day in December when my daughter in love suggested he do a photo shoot for my friend.

One of my best friends that I met as a nurse in 2001 has been stricken with ALS. A vivacious, strong woman of God, the disease is slowly working its way through her.

We arrived at her house on a beautiful, sunny day. My son and I unloaded his photography equipment, and entered her house.

Inside, her husband, kids, their spouses, and her grandson were there. My friend was brought out in her wheelchair, looking lovely as ever.

My son spent time indoors and out taking an amazing portrait collection of her beautiful family. The love in the room was palpable. This beloved matriarch was celebrated, loved, and captured on film.

I’ll never stop praying for a miracle- but each time I see her, a little more of her is gone. We finished the shoot, hugged my friend, told her we loved her, and got in the car to leave.

And I wept. And wept.

In the span of 31 hours I witnessed new life.

I saw a beloved friends life ebbing away.

Such is life. I have 18 years of laughter, camaraderie, friendship, and tears with my friend. I want 18 more…and more.

I have had a handful of days with my beloved newest grandson. A lifetime of love stretches ahead of him

James 4:14 (NKJV) says “whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.“

Life is precious. In this intense weekend, I was reminded of this.

Cherish every day.

I drove into town today specifically to see a tree.

An acquaintance had mentioned a tree in the city, next to the tennis courts. Once I saw his photos, I knew I had to lay hands on this tree.

As I sat in the car explaining this to my spouse on my cell phone, I was met with the “uh huh” of a man who thought I was nuts.

I’m not nuts – I love trees! Ancient trees, 200 years or older, are worthy of honor and respect.

As I stepped out of the car, I was struck by how unimposing it looked. Low to the ground, it’s branches bent down to the sandy ground, stretching out longer than the tree was tall.

I could imagine this tree during the dozens of hurricanes it’s survived, hunkered down, almost clasping the ground with its elbow like bends in the tangle of its branches.

I had to duck these branches to get to the trunk, and there was a light rustle of the stiff oak leaves as they filtered the sun, which barely shone through the canopy.

The trunk was spotted with moss and lichen, and rough from pockmarks that scarred it over the years it had battled the wind. I reverently placed my hand on the bark, and I looked up to the top of the tree, thanking it for its beauty. It’s tenacity. It’s sprawling anonymity, tucked next to a tennis court.

It was a cold day, but it was time well spend to spend a few minutes honoring one of God’s great creations.

It’s a very unsettling day.

The weather was the first portent if things to come.

I awoke to unseasonably warm winds swirling through the magnolia trees, scattering wild oak leaves up and out, and sending loose leaves and bits of trash scurrying up the drive.

It’s a dreary grey. Or is it brown? There is not a ray of sunlight to dispel the gloom.

Today I’m just as unsettled.

News has come of evil – horrific evil on the most innocent. My heart is troubled. My mind is confused. How can this happen?

I’ve heard another story, of evil struck down. Or is it? Unsettling. It remains to be seen.

Evil is present in the world. It should disturb us on the deepest level. I am disturbed today.

I will go in, and work on myself. On forgiving. On praying. On letting go of what I don’t understand. On asking what I can do – and doing it.

Letting go of the rest.

It’s raining now, and the wind has calmed.

So it will be with me.

A couple of nights ago, there was a full moon and an eclipse. It made the news, and those lucky enough to have clear skies and the correct time zone were able to enjoy it.

The next night, though, was the real show stopper!

I was in the den, just jumping on my rebounder, when suddenly the bay windows transferred a beautiful light from outside into my view.

I had to go outside – and the immediately I noticed the very air was transformed by a radiance I have not seen in many years.

In my suburban locale, the sky above was every shade of pink and purple, and somehow yellow and orange as well. Everything looked different. I felt different. I knew I was seeing something special.

After a while, the sky started to fade away into darkness, and I retreated into the warmth of my den again.

Within minutes, my social media was flooded with pictures of the sky – from my nearby suburbs, to the inter coastal areas, to the beautiful Gulf of Mexico.

Soon, more stunning sunset photos were coming from southern states around me, and even into the Midwest.

I saw a few pictures of the blood moon, but I saw dozens and dozens of pictures of that magical sunset.

One big, beautiful sky, shared by all of us.

It was magical!

(Photo taken by my son, in Destin, Florida)

My earliest performance memory is from the age of four.

I was in a tap class, and we were set to dance a routine to a Shirley Temple tune, “Old Straw Hat”.

I remember the song, and I remember my mom being there.

When I was in second grade, I was in the school play. I was “her in her cap” for a dramatic presentation of “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas”. I remember Santa coming down the chimney – and knocking the whole chimney over, causing me to rock so hard with laughter in my rocking chair that I almost flipped backwards. I remember my parents, laughing with me, in the audience.

As a senior in high school, I entered a state short study contest. All the winners were on stage,and the audience was given programs with the list of who had won each category. I searched my parents for any sign of triumph, but they remained poker faced. I ended up the winner of first prize, and they celebrated with me.

Plays. Recitals. Speech contests. Awards.

My parents were there. I was just like every other kid, scanning the audience for my parents.

They were present.

Love never divides – it only expands.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this recently.

As a stepfamily, once time and healing gave in to love for the vast majority of the kids, the family grew. Each person who opened their heart got more love, exponentially.

As a Nana, I already have 3 wonderful grandsons. This month, I get two more. Later this year, we grow by another grandchild.

Love expands a family.

I love the kids, and I love all the spouses that have joined our family.

We even have expanded to include my daughter in love’s family – we are a big family now, surrounding our children.

It’s the way it should be.

The power of love is it really expands your heart, not just your life.

My heart is so full, and I am blessed with all the growth that has happened.

I am focusing on my blessings.

Love is definitely something to choose, embrace, and walk in.

I am continuing my personal and household cleanse.

My goal is to streamline my house – minimizing is the goal.

I inherited a large house whose previous regime was stricken by OCD. The house was packed with crap.

Packed.

As a person with ADD, I was completely overwhelmed by the over abundant supply of stuff. Cabinets cram packed with cleaning supplies. Perfect dressers stuffed with disorganized assortments of miscellaneous stuff.

It was too much. Too much junk. Too much for me.

Now that I’m a full time wife, mom, Nana, and writer, I had time to come up with a plan to tackle this over abundance of stuff.

Today I tackled the laundry room. The cupboards above the washer and dryer were jam packed with stuff I’ve never used. The shelf above was just as cluttered.

It was time again to purge.

Any solvent or cleanser I don’t use was responsibly disposed of. I threw 90% away, cleaned the shelves, and placed the everyday items neatly behind the doors. My laundry room is mine. Over a decade in, and I’m finally tackling the overwhelming excess around me.

It is a daunting task, and it takes planning.

I’m getting there, one room at a time. The kitchen, the coat closet, the den, the laundry room…purges, cleansed, minimized, one room at a time.

As the bags and boxes of stuff leave for good, I breathe easier.

My life is at a place at last where I can break through the clutter and bring clarity and calm, through examining everything.

All at once, it was too much. Little by little, it brings peace. Calm.

Home at last.

Alas, it’s New Years Eve 2018. People across the world are celebrating a new year even as I type this.

People are planning to start new lifestyles tomorrow. Diets, gym memberships, and promises to do thing differently are vowed. People are setting themselves up for a triumphant entry into the new year.

It will start that way, but for most, it will be business as usual in six weeks or less.

Why? Because big changes are never sustainable.

Several years ago I vowed not to make New Years resolutions.

I haven’t made any since.

It’s another day.

Seven years ago, I was diagnosed with diabetes.

On that diagnosis day, I knew I had to make changes. So I did, slowly but surely.

It has been seven years of living one day at a time.

I’ve gone from guzzling soda to drinking 80-100 oz of water a day, with an occasional unsweetened tea or diet soda thrown in.

I’ve gone from eating a very carb dominant diet to eating smaller portions, adding healthier choices, one by one, and eliminating carbs incrementally, in favor of vegetables and whole food options.

One day at a time, I added exercise. Walking at first, then on to running half marathons.

All of this one day at a time. A lifestyle is lived one day at a time.

It’s just another day – another day to decide how to be the healthiest me.