Little Monkey

I had not seen Nathan in about a week.  He had been gone on a trip with his family and before they returned we left town.  He was anxious to get to the sandbox and immediately yelled to me....."Grandma, Grandma - take my picture."

 

 Then I tried to capture the dimples, but he didn't really smile for me here.

Since this was an unplanned sleep-over, I had to search for sleepwear.  There was none to be found....not even a T-shirt his size.  I pulled this knit shirt from the drawer and he was so excited...he jumped for joy....yes, yes he wanted to wear it.  He loved the monkey on the front.  He loved it so much he cried the next morning when his mom came to pick him up and she wanted him to put on his shorts and shirt for VBS.  He melted and cried to keep it on.  Katie is such a patient, and laid-back mom.  I wish I could learn from her.  Lest you think he is spoiled and should not be given his way all the time( well, maybe he is) but, ....he was willing to change when they got to the church.  Momma knows the little guy pretty well.

Unspoken Sermons

"I am the good shepherd; and I know My sheep, and am known by My own."

John 10:14

A member of a certain church, who previously had been attending
services regularly, stopped going after a few weeks, the preacher
decided to visit him. It was a chilly evening. The pastor found the
man at home alone, sitting before a blazing fire. Guessing the
reason for his preacher's visit, the man welcomed him, led him to a comfortable chair near the fireplace...and waited.

The preacher made himself at home but said nothing. In the  grave silence, he contemplated the dance of the flames around  the burning logs.  After some minutes, the preacher took the  fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly burning ember and placed it to one side of the hearth all alone, then he sat back in his chair, still silent.The host watched all this in quiet contemplation. As the one lone ember's flame flickered and diminished, there  was a momentary glow and then its fire was no more. Soon  it was cold and dead. Not a word had been spoken since the initial greeting. The  preacher glanced at his watch and realized it was time to leave. He slowly stood up, picked up the cold, dead ember and placed it back in the middle of the fire. Immediately it began to glow,  once more with the light and warmth of the burning coals around it. As the preacher reached the door to leave, his host said with a tear running down his cheek, 'Thank you so much for your visit  and especially for the fiery sermon. I will be back in church next Sunday.'

We live in a world today, which tries to say too much with too little. Consequently, few listen. Sometimes the best sermons are the ones left unspoken.

The Lord is my Shepherd ----- that's a Relationship!

I shall not want ----- that's Supply!

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures ----that's Rest!

He leadeth me beside the still waters -----that's Refreshment!

He restoreth my soul -- that's Healing!

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness -- that's Guidance!

For His name's sake ----- that's Purpose!

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death --that's Testing!

I will fear no evil ----- that's Protection!

For Thou art with me ----- that's Faithfulness!

Thy rod and Thy staff comfort me -----that's Discipline!

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies ---that's Hope!

Thou annointest my head with oil -----that's Consecration!

My cup runneth over ----- that's Abundance!

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life ---that's Blessing!

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord ----- that's Security!

Forever ----- that's Eternity!

Face it, God is crazy about you!

Blooms and Blossoms

I just can't get enough of these.

 

Classic Cars

We did see some fun things while in Springfield last week, even though the shock of the storm in Joplin hovered over us.  Big car show going on over the Memorial Day weekend.  I really wish we could have gone to it, but we did get to see several cars in the parking lot of the Comfort Inn.  Of course, I was out lurking around taking pictures in the dark.  The next morning I took a few pictures out of the window from the room.  I had not changed from my nightgown nor had a combed my hair.  Of course, I was so involved in the picture taking that I did not notice the couple in the parking lot stopped and staring straight up at me.  Ugh!  I quickly pulled the curtain....I felt like a Dufus.  

Okay, I want that one, that one, that one, and that one!!

There were more, especially out on the street early the next morning, but I was afraid if I took any more pictures they might send the law after me.

Memoirs of an ER Doctor

You can see my thoughts and pictures of the tornado damage in Joplin on the post after this one, but I wanted to post this message below from a doctor who survived the Joplin tornado.  I can't imagine the trauma the hospital staff had to endure during this storm and the immediate needs seen just after.  I received this from a high school classmate who received it from her cousin who is a nurse in Tulsa.

Common Persons/Uncommon Valor - St. Johns Hospital Doctor

45 Seconds: Memoirs of an ER Doctor from May 22, 2011.

 My name is Dr. Kevin Kikta, and I was one of two emergency room doctors who were on duty at St. John's Regional Medical Center in Joplin, MO on Sunday May 22,2011.

You never know that it will be the most important day of your life until the day is over. The day started like any other day for me: waking up, eating, going to the gym, showering, and going to my 4 00pm ER shift. As I drove to the hospital I mentally prepared for my shift as I always do, but nothing could ever have prepared me for what was going to happen on this shift. Things were normal for the first hour and half. At approximately 5:30 pm we received a warning that a tornado had been spotted. . Although I work in Joplin and went to medical school in Oklahoma, I live in New Jersey, and I have never seen or been in a tornado. I learned that a "code gray" was being called. We were to start bringing patients to safer spots within the ED and hospital.

At 5: 42pm a security guard yelled to everyone, "Take cover! We are about to get hit by a tornado!" I ran with a pregnant RN, Shilo Cook, while others scattered to various places, to the only place that I was familiar with in the hospital without windows, a small doctor's office in the ED. Together, Shilo and I tremored and huddled under a desk. We heard a loud horrifying sound like a large locomotive ripping through the hospital. The whole hospital shook and vibrated as we heard glass shattering, light bulbs popping, walls collapsing, people screaming, the ceiling caving in above us, and water pipes breaking, showering water down on everything. We suffered this in complete darkness, unaware of anyone else's status, worried, scared. We could feel a tight pressure in our heads as the tornado annihilated the hospital and the surrounding area. The whole process took about 45 seconds, but seemed like eternity. The hospital had just taken a direct hit from a category EF-4 tornado.

Then it was over. Just 45 seconds. 45 long seconds. We looked at each other, terrified, and thanked God that we were alive. We didn't know, but hoped that it was safe enough to go back out to the ED, find the rest of the staff and patients, and assess our loses.

"Like a bomb went off. " That's the only way that I can describe what we saw next. Patients were coming into the ED in droves. It was absolute, utter chaos. They were limping, bleeding, crying, terrified, with debris and glass sticking out of them, just thankful to be alive. The floor was covered with about 3 inches of water, there was no power, not even backup generators, rendering it completely dark and eerie in the ED. The frightening aroma of methane gas leaking from the broken gas lines permeated the air; we knew, but did not dare mention aloud, what that meant. I redoubled my pace.

We had to use flashlights to direct ourselves to the crying and wounded. Where did all the flashlights come from? I'll never know, but immediately, and thankfully, my years of training in emergency procedures kicked in. There was no power, but our mental generators, were up and running, and on high test adrenaline. We had no cell phone service in the first hour, so we were not even able to call for help and backup in the ED.

I remember a patient in his early 20's gasping for breath, telling me that he was going to die. After a quick exam, I removed the large shard of glass from his back, made the clinical diagnosis of a pneumothorax (collapsed lung) and gathered supplies from wherever I could locate them to insert a thoracostomy tube in him. He was a trooper; I'll never forget his courage. He allowed me to do this without any local anesthetic since none could be found. With his life threatening injuries I knew he was running out of time, and it had to be done quickly. Imagine my relief when I heard a big rush of air, and breath sounds again; fortunately, I was able to get him transported out. I immediately moved on to the next patient, .an asthmatic in status asthmaticus. We didn't even have the option of trying a nebulizer treatment or steroids, but I was able to get him intubated using a flashlight that I held in my mouth. A small child of approximately 3-4 years of age was crying; he had a large avulsion of skin to his neck and spine. The gaping wound revealed his cervical spine and upper thoracic spine bones. I could actually count his vertebrae with my fingers. This was a child, his whole life ahead of him, suffering life threatening wounds in front of me, his eyes pleading me to help him.. We could not find any pediatric C collars in the darkness, and water from the shattered main pipes was once again showering down upon all of us. Fortunately, we were able to get him immobilized with towels, and start an IV with fluids and pain meds before shipping him out. We felt paralyzed and helpless ourselves. I didn't even know a lot of the RN's I was working with. They were from departments scattered all over the hospital. It didn't matter. We worked as a team, determined to save lives. There were no specialists available-- my orthopedist was trapped in the OR. We were it, and we knew we had to get patients out of the hospital as quickly as possible. As we were shuffling them out, the fire department showed up and helped us to evacuate. Together we worked furiously; motivated by the knowledge and fear that the methane leaks could cause the hospital could blow up at any minute.

Things were no better outside of the ED. I saw a man man crushed under a large SUV, still alive, begging for help; another one was dead, impaled by a street sign through his chest. Wounded people were walking, staggering, all over, dazed and shocked. All around us was chaos, reminding me of scenes in a war movie, or newsreels from bombings in Bagdad. Except this was right in front of me and it had happened in just 45 seconds. My own car was blown away. Gone. Seemingly evaporated. We searched within a half mile radius later that night, but never found the car, only the littered, crumpled remains of former cars. And a John Deere tractor that had blown in from miles away.

Tragedy has a way of revealing human goodness. As I worked, surrounded by devastation and suffering, I realized I was not alone. The people of the community of Joplin were absolutely incredible. Within minutes of the horrific event, local residents showed up in pickups and sport utility vehicles, all offering to help transport the wounded to other facilities, including Freeman, the trauma center literally across the street. Ironically, it had sustained only minimal damage and was functioning (although I'm sure overwhelmed). I carried on, grateful for the help of the community. At one point I had placed a conscious intubated patient in the back of a pickup truck with someone, a layman, for transport. The patient was self- ventilating himself, and I gave instructions to someone with absolutely no medical knowledge on how to bag the patient until they got to Freeman.

Within hours I estimated that over 100 EMS units showed up from various towns, counties and four different states. Considering the circumstances, their response time was miraculous. . Roads were blocked with downed utility lines, smashed up cars in piles, and they still made it through.

We continued to carry patients out of the hospital on anything that we could find: sheets, stretchers, broken doors, mattresses, wheelchairs-anything that could be used as a transport mechanism. 

As I finished up what I could do at St John's, I walked with two RN's,  Shilo Cook and Julie Vandorn, to a makeshift MASH center that was being set up miles away at Memorial Hall. We walked where flourishing neighborhoods once stood, astonished to see only the disastrous remains of flattened homes, body parts, and dead people everywhere. I saw a small dog just whimpering in circles over his master who was dead, unaware that his master would not ever play with him again. At one point we tended to a young woman who just stood crying over her dead mother who was crushed by her own home. The young woman covered her mother up with a blanket and then asked all of us, "What should I do?" We had no answer for her, but silence and tears.

By this time news crews and photographers were starting to swarm around, and we were able to get a ride to Memorial Hall from another RN. The chaos was slightly more controlled at Memorial Hall. I was relieved to see many of my colleagues, doctors from every specialty, helping out. It was amazing to be able to see life again. It was also amazing to see how fast workers mobilized to set up this MASH unit under the circumstances. Supplies, food, drink, generators, exam tables, all were there-except pharmaceutical pain meds. I sutured multiple lacerations, and splinted many fractures, including some open with bone exposed, and then intubated another patient with severe COPD, slightly better controlled conditions this time, but still less than optimal.

But we really needed pain meds. I managed to go back to the St John's with another physician, pharmacist, and a sheriff's officer. Luckily, security let us in to a highly guarded pharmacy to bring back a garbage bucket sized supply of pain meds.

At about midnight I walked around the parking lot of St. John's with local law enforcement officers looking for anyone who might be alive or trapped in crushed cars. They spray painted "X"s on the fortunate vehicles that had been searched without finding anyone inside. The unfortunate vehicles wore "X's" and sprayed-on numerals, indicating the number of dead inside, crushed in their cars, cars which now resembled flattened recycled aluminum cans the tornado had crumpled in her iron hands, an EF4 tornado, one of the worst in history, whipping through this quiet town with demonic strength. I continued back to Memorial hall into the early morning hours until my ER colleagues told me it was time for me to go home. I was completely exhausted. I had seen enough of my first tornado.
> > How can one describe these indescribable scenes of destruction? The next day I saw news coverage of this horrible, deadly tornado. It was excellent coverage, and Mike Bettes from the Weather Channel did a great job, but there is nothing that pictures and video can depict compared to seeing it in person. That video will play forever in my mind.

I would like to express my sincerest gratitude to everyone involved in helping during this nightmarish disaster. My fellow doctors, RN's, techs, and all of the staff from St. John's. I have worked at St John's for approximately 2 years, and I have always been proud to say that I was a physician at St John's in Joplin, MO. The smart, selfless and immediate response of the professionals and the community during this catastrophe proves to me that St John's and the surrounding community are special I am beyond proud.

To the members of this community, the health care workers from states away, and especially Freeman Medical Center, I commend everyone on unselfishly coming together and giving 110% the way that you all did, even in your own time of need. St John 's Medical Center is gone, but her spirit and goodness lives on in each of you.

EMS, you should be proud of yourselves. You were all excellent, and did a great job despite incredible difficulties and against all odds. For all of the injured who I treated, although I do not remember your names (nor would I expect you to remember mine) I will never forget your faces. I'm glad that I was able to make a difference and help in the best way that I knew how, and hopefully give some of you a chance at rebuilding your lives again. For those whom I was not able to get to or treat, I apologize whole heartedly.

Last, but not least, thank you, and God Bless you, Mercy/St John for providing incredible care in good times and even more so, in times of the unthinkable, and for all the training that enabled us to be a team and treat the people and save lives.

Sincerely,
Kevin J. Kikta, DO
Department of Emergency Medicine
Mercy/St Johns Regional Medical Center, Joplin, MO

Deadly Tornado

I don't know where to start with this post.  David has frequent meetings in Springfield, Mo.  We drove up there yesterday and returned today.  We were expecting to see the "damage" in Joplin from I-44.  We did see a little, but the massive destruction was further north than we thought.  That situation has been so heavy on our hearts, as I am sure it is with all of you.  We did venture north, just to see.  It seemed wrong to just look, and take pictures, but we did. I really wish we could have stopped and helped someone in someway, but those people were not real visible by the 5th day and we did not get out of the pickup. There were many workers and teams of people with food and clothing, etc. Roads were blocked and the destruction was thick....not a clear path much of anywhere.  I am sure much of the piles in high heaps were cleared from the streets so that help could get to the area.

As we approached the area we saw huge trees on houses and roofs blown off and windows blown out.  Most of the residential streets were blocked off.  Today on the way home, we exited the interstate and took another route.  There is no way to describe the scene.  The damage was just block after block and mile after mile of piled and twisted rubble.  Every direction we looked all that could be seen was complete destruction. In the hardest hit areas everything was just leveled.

There were multiple places set up to help people, but the volume of need looked totally overwhelming.  Like, where are all those people sleeping?  When will they have a stable place to "live"?  How will they survive the terrible loss of loved ones?  I am telling you, many will not without a great deal of faith, prayer, and love from others.  There was a visible outreaching to others there, but the needs looked endless.  These situations do make people reach out and be more giving...but still.  It is so overwhelming!

I am posting some pictures, because a picture speaks a thousand words.  If you are alive today; have a home and a car to drive; groceries in your house; and family to love..........and I could go on and on.....then count your blessings and thank God for it all again and again.

This church was destroyed, but most of the pews were intact.

Every business in this strip mall was destroyed.

This was a huge familiar outdoor sporting store. 

Workers trying to restore the electricity..

Too many mangled cars to count....just everywhere.

There was a Wal-Mart back in there somewhere.

 

 There were more destroyed trees than you can imagine.

Are you feeling thankful yet?

You could tell this was an older part of town.

The wealthy, poor, homes or business...none were spared.

I was struck by the two photos above - both the same photo, but the one just above is just a closer shot.  Notice the guitar, and actually there was a case and a couple of guitars laying there in the rubble.  David noticed the Texas flag first in the picture above this one.

Last, but not least is the large St. John hospital that we heard today is off of its foundation and has been totally evacuated now, and the building will have to be taken down.  

I don't share this to be morbid.  I share this to remember how blessed I am and how blessed you are, and to remember those who have lost so much, but who will recover.  Those people have not been forsaken. 

I saw several cars with writing on the back glass that said, "Bring the Joy Back to Joplin".  I pray that joy will be in the hearts of those suffering people soon.   They need our prayers.