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Welcome to Paranoia!

(Originally published on Facebook 11/17/14)

Please take a moment and read this blog post from themighty.com, entitled, “A Letter to the Me Who Was Terrified of Our Diagnosis”, before reading any further.

http://themighty.com/2014/11/a-letter-to-the-me-who-was-terrified-of-our-diagnosis/

Oh yeah! I wish I had read this in the early years, when I knew something was wrong but most people (medical professionals included) thought I was simply a paranoid, over-protective mother.

I never could have written this to myself. The many comments that minimized Gracen and Katie’s symptoms from real concerns to simple clumsiness left me second guessing myself. Having lost one child, I was hyper-sensitive to every fear, but also hyper-sensitive to over-reaction. I knew I needed to guard against my over-protective nature, yet that left me consumed with self-doubt. I was not able to see clearly. I needed someone with a more distant perspective than I could manage to encourage me to aggressively pursue answers. It took me quite awhile to find that person.

In the meantime, I developed an advance/retreat strategy. Push, push, push for answers. Gain a bit of knowledge, a fraction of ground. Push for more information. Get shot down and become disheartened. Retreat. Bury my head in the sand. Shake off concerns – ignore fears, ignore fears ignore fears! Arggggg, can’t ignore fears anymore – push, push, push! Repeat!

That describes the early years. Every once in a while God would send a glimpse of encouragement. I remember taking Gracen to soccer practice one afternoon, frustrated that a doctor had once again downplayed my concerns, leaving me questioning. Wondering if I was seeing something that didn’t exist. I sat down next to another mother I didn’t really know as practice began. A few minutes after practice started she turned to me and said, “What’s wrong with your daughter?” And while I cringe at the insensitive way in which the question was phrased, at that moment I was thankful because she validated what I knew to be true deep down inside and gave me the courage to push some more.

There came a point in time when, due to the progressive nature of the girls’ disease, I no longer had to fight to have doctors acknowledge a problem existed. However, at this point I encountered an unexpected attitude from medical professionals. There is a school of thought within the medical community that promotes the idea that the root of the problem is irrelevant. Treating the symptoms is sufficient. Weary of the battle, worried about the future and afraid to look too closely into the future, I acquiesced.
Then one day, having to find yet another neurologist, I stumbled upon Dr. Phillps, a new pediatric neurologist (actually, I think she was the only “pediatric” neurologist) arrived in NW Arkansas. She was a tiny sprite of a thing with a warrior’s heart. After several appointments she turned to me one day and said, “I think we need to search for a diagnosis. You need to know if a condition leads to other medical issues so that we can watch for those and not be surprised by them.” So the hunt was on – and it took years.

Dr. Phillips eventually married another neurologist, and so Dr. Phillps became Dr. Mrs. Balmakund when her husband began working at the same clinic.
Dr. Mrs. Balmakund is the most humble and tenacious doctor I have ever met. She is always open to suggestions from others, medical or lay people. She loves her patients and their families and takes her knowledge and questions to monthly conference calls with a group of her peers and on the road to medical conferences where she questions other specialists, always seeking to find another patient presenting with similar symptoms or to find that one specialist who has knowledge of a condition she is unfamiliar with. She has no ego where kids are concerned. She willing sent us to other specialists and eventually one, who was unable to provide a diagnosis, did suggest two tests that might reveal a diagnosis. After jumping through a series of insurance hurdles, and fifteen years after Gracen’s symptoms presented, we finally had a diagnosis.

Yippee, right? Wrong! David and I found ourselves less than prepared to hear the prognosis revealed one Spring morning at her clinic. However, Dr. Balmakund did not abandon us but set us up with a neuro-psychologist to help us work through the emotions and fears and guide us in the best ways to inform all three of our daughters.

Dr. B, as she is affectionately known to many of her patients, has been there for us every step of the way – has gone above and beyond with hospital visits and follow up phone calls. She has been our ordained gift from God and we could not be more grateful.

In fact, God has been doubly good to us as Amy Grant used to sing. Dr. Mrs. Balmakund works in a practice of like-minded professionals who have supported and encouraged us in our most difficult and darkest moments. They have shared hard truths with love and have pushed us to seek outside help we likely would have made do without. We have needed them and have often not had to ask because they’ve simply stepped up and in before we knew exactly what we needed.

Drs. Karkos, Scott and Balmakund have often played the role this woman played for herself in my life – recognizing needs within me that I was not always aware of myself. They have ministered to our entire family, not just their patient. In that, they are truly remarkable and have blessed us beyond measure! They are among those I think of when I hear or think of Philippians 1:3, “I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.”

These women are but a small sampling of the men and women God has surrounded and supported us with. So very many people, some who’ve played a very limited role, appearing at just the right moment and some who’ve stood in the gap for us for a season, and many who have walked along side us for years – serving as the hands and feet of Christ – with a word of encouragement, extending a simple kindness, or doing the heavy lifting by praying us through so many concerns and challenges and downright dilemmas. Oh yes, I am grateful to God for His faithful provision.

Now, I think I should go back and read paragraph one!

 

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Mitchell’s Journey – THE ROAD IS LONG

 
 

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Dread & Anticipation

(Originally posted on Facebook 10/11/14)
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The next three months are filled with the dreaded firsts that the bereaved anticipate with trepidation – birthdays, holidays, and the anniversary of the death itself. Having previous experience grieving the loss of a child, I have found that for me personally, the anticipation of the holiday or anniversary, is often worse than the day itself. Even so, while that means the holiday or anniversary is bearable, the days leading up to them are generally characterized by an undercurrent of sadness. It’s a time where emotions normally tamped down bubble to the surface far more easily resulting in anxiety, primarily regarding the ability to keep my emotions in check in public settings. Therefore, the most notable manifestation of my anxiety will likely be a silent withdrawal from unnecessary activities.

Such an absence does not signal the inability to cope with grief in a healthy manner, but rather a desire for both privacy and an awareness that a display of emotions often makes others very uncomfortable.

In addition to the normal grief triggers the upcoming months hold, on the 23rd of this month, just four days after what would have been Katie’s 17th birthday, the first of the criminal legal proceedings begin. The McDonald County Prosecuting Attorney has convened a Coroner’s Inquest. Inquests are rare legal proceedings. A jury of six is selected and witnesses are called to testify.

The purpose of an Inquest is to determine cause of death when death occurs under suspicious circumstances or by violence. The jury decides if the death was natural, accidental, suicide or murder and if “culpable conduct” contributed to the death. Proving a “culpable mental state” is required in order to gain a conviction for involuntary manslaughter. The jury’s decision as a result of the Inquest will determine if the Prosecutor will file misdemeanor or felony charges against the driver responsible for the accident.

The attorney who is handling the civil litigation (our personal attorney), has told us he expects misdemeanor charges will ultimately be filed and that we can realistically expect the court case to be completely resolved before the end of the year.

So, the next three months will likely be emotional and somewhat stressful. While I know God has a purpose and a plan, that He will see us through every birthday, holiday, the anniversary of the girl’s deaths and the prosecution and sentencing of those responsible, I am also painfully aware that my thoughts are not His thoughts and that His ways are not my ways.

God’s goals are in many ways far more simplistic than mine. His highest priorities involve reaching and redeeming the lost, and conforming the saved into the image of Christ, which sometimes involves time spent on the Potter’s wheel and/or in the Refiner’s fire.

I, on the other hand, AM NOT HOLY! While I too am interested in the salvation of the lost and being conformed into the image of Christ, those goals, if I’m completely honest, are not always, and maybe not even frequently, at the top of my priority list. I am distracted by worldly things, worldly hopes and dreams and sometimes I rebel against or even resent the means God uses to achieve His goals (I’ve heard that still small voice whisper, “Janet, why do you kick against the pricks?”), and sometimes I simply acknowledge His plans with little more than weary, disappointed, resignation; which I guess most accurately expresses how I have viewed the circumstances I have found myself thrust into over the last nine months.

In spite of how I personally feel about God’s most recent intrusion into my . . . Uh, I mean, in spite of how I personally feel about the means God has chosen to achieve His goals (which I believe extend beyond my immediate family), I am completely confident that the Holy Spirit is actively performing a spiritual work within me that God highly values. And one day I will value it too.

 
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Posted by on October 21, 2015 in Faith, Grief

 

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Almost Home – Almost Safe

Almost Home – Almost Safe

(originially posted to Facebook 4/5/14)

It’s been a busy week. So many blessings – a good report from the surgeon, no more leg brace, seeing Gracen up and on her feet again relearning to walk, a healing pressure sore, pancakes and hugs from Pineville Fire & Rescue, & friends reaching out. It’s all so bittersweet.

Today we chose to drive by that stretch of highway. We’ve been by it before, but always in the dark and never really sure exactly where the collision took place – trauma tends to be a little disorienting.

I remember thinking the day of the wreck, “We were almost home”, and that was my thought today as well. “Almost home” really means “almost safe”. But there really is no “almost safe”. You are either safe, or you’re not.

So today I offer thanks to Rosemary for the reminder she posted on the blog my sister-in-law, Sandy Boxx Tompkins, set up in response to “A Mother’s Musings”. She said, “Your children are a greater part of your future than they were of your past…” I so needed to hear that.

 
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Posted by on October 21, 2015 in Faith, Grief

 

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Jealous

The pre-song interview pretty much says it all; and aside from the line in the chorus that says, “But I always thought you’d come back, tell me all you found was Heartbreak and misery”, well the rest of the lyrics speak a very uncomfortable truth. I miss my children and I am desperately jealous to know they are happy without me. Not that I’d want them to be unhappy – and certainly not that I’d want heaven to be anything less than all I hope it will be, but I find myself jealous that heaven has their sunshine and I do not.

On this, the day after my youngest daughter’s birthday, this song seems especially appropriate as the following (partial) lyrics testify:

I wished you the best of
All this world could give
And I told you when you left me
There’s nothing to forgive
As I sink in the sand
Watch you slip through my hands
Oh, as I die here another day
Cause all I do is cry behind this smile

It’s hard for me to say,
I’m jealous of the way
You’re happy without me
It’s hard for me to say,
I’m jealous of the way
You’re happy without me

 
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Posted by on October 21, 2015 in Grief, Links, Music

 

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Katie Eve 2015

(Posted on Facebook 10/18/15)
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It’s ten p.m. Katie Eve. Soon, far sooner than I’d like, be it eleven or three a.m., I’ll close my eyes only to wake and find it’s Katie’s birthday and she’s not here – will never be here again. There are no carefully selected gifts, no friends coming, no cake, candles or ice cream. Just the ever present void her enthusiasm and contagious smile left behind.

Eighteen, she should be turning eighteen tomorrow., October 19th. And just that easily her life is erased. Oh, not in our hearts and minds, but I can guarantee you that the majority of people (friends and family – who can keep track of all those dates?) have no idea tomorrow is Katie’s birthday and will only be made aware by Facebook notification.

Before her death, celebrating her birthday was primarily a family affair. It didn’t matter to me if anyone else was aware of, or celebrated her birthday. But that has changed as well, because the fact that no one outside our family misses her screams that her life on earth had no worth. Lack of recognition, lack of appreciation, lack of awareness equates to lack of value – and that is one thing this broken mother simply can’t swallow. My throat tightens and chest heaves as I attempt to contain the sobs as tears roll down my face before I wipe them away. My heart is choking on the sorrow.

I didn’t fully comprehend how much life is defined by relationships. We are so distracted by jobs, and things and responsibilities that even the most valuable of relationships compete for our attention. In a world where the squeaky wheel gets greased, there is always a squeaky wheel demanding attention. In fact, David just stopped at the foot of my bed where I was reclining as I keyed this and said, “Will you cut my hair?”
“Sure”, I respond.
Minutes later from the kitchen I hear, “OK, I’m ready.”
And I’m off, grease can in hand.

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Posted by on October 21, 2015 in Grief

 

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Birthdays – An Emotional Minefield!

(Originially posted on Facebook 10/4/14)

Birthday cupcakes

Birthday cupcakes

 

I wrote this blog in October of 2014, just prior to the first time we would observe Katie and Bethany’s birthdays without them. Today, October 19, is Katie’s 19th birthday, the third since her death at age 16. I have yet to find a satisfactory way to celebrate the girls’ birthdays in their absence. We’ve left town, bought substitucinary gifts, and simply bought flowers for their graves and balloons to tie to the crosses at the side of the road where they were killed. But no matter what I’ve tried, I just can’t enjoy the day of their births without them. No prettily wrapped presents, no specially requested cake or pie, no candles or off-key singing will mark this day. Memories are bittersweet. But birthdays are empty and hollow, and the absence of their presence is a living and breathing entity in this oh, so quiet house. And so I look back . . . 

One of the things that was unique about the David Boxx branch of the Boxx family tree is that our family didn’t have birthdays spread out over the entire twelve month calendar. We had, what I refer to as a “Birthday Season”, since our birthdays all fell one month after the other for five consecutive months. (Well, that’s to say, every member of our immediate family who was born breathing). **See footnote for additional information.

The Birthday Season officially kicked off in August in which my birthday is celebrated, followed by David’s in September, Katie’s in October, and just two weeks later, Bethany’s arrived just squeaking into the month of November, after which Gracen’s was celebrated one week shy of Christmas.

Katie absolutely loved birthdays. One year she set about creating hand made birthday cards for every family member. Inside each card she included a poem she had written about the month of their birth.

From an early age, only a few months after celebrating her birthday, Katie would begin asking how long until her next birthday. As time crept closer to her birthday, she would become increasingly excited. She’d begin making her birthday wish list early and would add to it throughout the month. I recently came across last year’s list written by her own hand – a true “gut check” moment. One year, the day before her birthday (and because I simply loved her excitement and anticipation over it), I told her, “Katie, do you know what today is? It’s Katie Eve!” She loved it!

When Katie was a student at Washington Junior High, she became well known by the ladies who worked in the school office. Every day she passed through the office in order to visit the school nurse and take her daily medication over the lunch hour. The ladies in the office picked up on Katie’s excitement over her birthday and surprised her with a card – and out came that bright, brilliant smile for which she was so well known. It was pure sunshine!

These days, as Katie and Bethany’s birthdays draw close, I’ve been thinking about the best way to commemorate their individual birthdays. The decision is complicated because how it is handled must take into consideration each member of the family, what each of us individually needs, realizing that what helps one may be painful for another.

Is a balloon release emotionally helpful or hurtful for David, for Gracen, for me? Is it a comfort to eat cake and acknowledge the day, or is it less painful to avoid it altogether – to pretend it’s just another day like any other? Does avoidance more profoundly underscore their absence? This is something with which I continue to struggle.

So far I’ve made only one decision; a decision to do for another child what I can no longer do for two of my own. Children’s Therapy T.E.A.M., the clinic where Gracen has received such over-the-top care, has a deep concern for children with special needs that extends far beyond the borders of northwest Arkansas. TEAMworks is CTT’s non-profit outreach – follow the link to learn more: http://teamworksteam.org/about/who_we_are.

In preparation for an upcoming trip to Guatemala, a bulletin board in the Bentonville clinic was covered with pictures of disabled Guatemalan children, TEAMworks version of the popular Christmas Angel Tree program.

The day the bulletin board caught my attention, only two of the remaining pictures were of young girls. On the back side of each picture was a name and picture of a toy specifically selected with that child in mind. Immediately, I realized that while this year I am incapable of selecting and gifting Bethany and Katie with birthday presents designed to bring them pleasure and reinforce that they are loved, I can do that for another child who might otherwise never receive a gift personally selected with them in mind. I believe Bethany and Katie would approve.

**Celebrating Cole’s birthday, was largely a solitary endeavor observed by me alone. Not to say that David ignored the observance of his son’s birth, he is just less inclined to talk about the deep wounds of his heart and let’s face it, to die on your day of birth does have a tendency to put a damper on any kind of celebration. The girls were of course aware of their older brother, but since he was our firstborn, his life was a bit obscure from their perspective I suppose, and after our move to Bentonville, it was too far to travel to decorate his grave, which all three girls did with me prior to that point in time.

 
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Posted by on October 20, 2015 in Grief

 

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Flashback – Anniversary of the Funeral

Flashback – Anniversary of the Funeral

(Originally Published on Facebook 1/4/15)
A year ago today Bethany and Katie were laid to rest. January 4, 2014, runs through my mind in bits and pieces like a slideshow of still photos – moments captured in my mind – interspersed with video-like footage – blurred images alongside others in sharp focus.

Memories of personal encounters during the visitation – my college roommate’s husband standing before me unashamed as tears fell from his eyes – impossibly young friends, teachers and school nurses extending sympathy – friends who had driven several hours, many of whom hadn’t seen us in almost ten years – a man who only identified himself as “a friend”. Bethany’s broken-hearted boyfriend and his equally broken-hearted mother standing alongside her sister and the soft pink tulips (Bethany’s favorite flower) we cherished.

Pastor Wes and Lisa meeting with us just prior to the start of the service. The comfort and blessing provided by the presence and participation of Bill Boren, our Pastor from Kansas City and long-time friend, who had performed our son’s funeral twenty plus years before. The music and message.

The sight of those two flower draped caskets standing in the cold air at staggered heights one in front of the other, the cemetery chapel providing a fitting backdrop at the graveside service. How I wish I’d taken a picture of that starkly beautiful, sobering and painful view.

The luncheon that followed – and the hospitality the church ladies extended in inviting and making welcome the numerous international students Bethany had befriended at UCA.

The discovery of the stroke my oldest brother suffered leaving him hospitalized at Northwest Regional.

The dark drive back to Little Rock with my crazy brother who was insanely willing to spend three hours on the road with us all because he wanted thirty minutes with Gracen before taking upon himself the responsibility of driving Bethany’s car another three hours back to Bentonville, in what had become inclement weather, before driving on to Tulsa planning to catch a flight home that same night.

Today was a day of bittersweet flashbacks of well remembered, sharply-edged pain, gently buffed smooth and soft by hugs of comfort and sorrow shared between friends and family. Yes, a year ago today Bethany and Katie were laid to rest and tonight Gracen will drift off to sleep in her over-sized Pineville Fire and Rescue t-shirt.

 
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Posted by on October 20, 2015 in Faith, Grief

 

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Painful Words of Truth & Encouragement

This was read at our son Cole’s funeral by Bill Boren in 1991 and again yesterday (1/4/14) at Bethany and Katie’s service. It’s meant a lot to me over the years and I’ve shared it with many grieving friends.

He Maketh No MistakeP

My Father’s way may twist and turn
My heart may throb and ache,
But in my soul I’m glad to know,
He maketh no mistake.

My cherished plans may go astray,
My hopes may fade away,
But still I’ll trust my Lord to lead,
For He doth know the way.

Tho’ night be dark and it may seem
That day will never break,
I’ll pin my faith, my all, in Him,
He maketh no mistake.

There’s so much now I cannot see,
My eyesight’s far too dim,
But come what may,
I’ll simply trust and leave it all to Him.

For by and by the mist will lift,
And plain it all He’ll make,
Through all the way, tho’ dark to me,
He made not one mistake.

– A.M. Overton, 1932

 
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Posted by on October 20, 2015 in Faith, Grief

 

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Steel Magnolias: MaLynne’s Outburst

Thank God, and I don’t say that flippantly; Thank God for the women who can help you laugh in the darkest of circumstances.

Can I get a witness?

 
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Posted by on October 20, 2015 in Grief, Links, Movie Clips

 

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