CRAMP!

Because I was a strong swimmer as a child I was always amazed when I heard someone say, “The swimmer got a cramp and drowned.”

Without realizing it, and without intention, I would judge the person who had a cramp and drowned. Really? How could a little old cramp drown someone?

Then I got a CRAMP! No “little old” cramp. A nighttime throw-you-out-of-bed to the floor, roll you around in agony—a cramp that made me shout and rendered me totally unable to stand, walk, or limp—and a cramp that wouldn’t release. Frequent cramps that started after my hip replacement and the resultant three-month hospital stay when it became infected. I wrote and published two books during the three months which was good, but I came home with a tendency to get CRAMPS.

The difficult part of living with a hip injury or a worn out hip is that the hip controls every part of the body by its placement. Sitting, you sit on the hip. Standing puts pressure on the hip. Walking depends on the hip and becomes nearly impossible. Even prone on the bed puts stress on the hip. So, I am thankful daily for the hip surgery that restored my mobility—but I became frightened to go to bed at night and allow a cramp to wake me up and throw me to the floor.

To the rescue—my sister, the editor of my books, and my not-a-doctor sister Vicky who is my medical go-to. She told me blood pressure medicine robs the body of potassium and recommended taking a potassium supplement. Thank you, Vicky. Good riddance to CRAMPS…mostly.

Now that they are less severe I can be thankful for the occasional return of a cramp because it reminds me… Not. To. Judge. The last several of my soon-to-be 50 books contain a non-judgmental theme. I remember me as a child scoffing about reported drowning from a cramp because I thought that if someone was a good swimmer they couldn’t possibly drown from a cramp. What unkind thinking. Shame on me. I image that if I were out in the ocean and got one of the cramps I’ve been experiencing since my hip replacement I would thrash so wildly that I would attract a shark or other hungry predator.

Overt judgments are easy to recognize; a person’s size, color, dress, language, ethnicity, customs, body adornments. We can police ourselves and avoid those. But human judgment is a slithery, elusive critter. What about judging someone’s work ethics, health, personal choices, or finances? “Surely they aren’t that poor.” “Her headache can’t be that bad.” “I’ve seen hound dogs under porches that have more energy than that.” “My mother wouldn’t let me out of the house wearing that.”

It’s human nature to judge others, perhaps because if they miss the mark we think they should hit it makes us feel more powerful and successful. Recognizing this human tendency, God filled the Bible with verses warning us not to judge others. Jesus Himself said, “Judge not, that you be not judged. For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you.” Matthew 7:1.

“For in whatever you judge another you condemn yourself.” Romans 2:1

Not everyone who judges others will experience CRAMPS…but why take a chance?

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: books, biography, latest update

No Matter What

There are two Bible verses around which I have built my life: In everything give thanks, and ALL things work together for good to those who love the Lord.

It is easy to memorize these verses. It is easy to repeat them. But to live them? Hmm…that can be more difficult.

When I was virtually snatched from my home and sent to the hospital unexpectedly a few months ago with an infection after hip replacement surgery, it was a challenge to be thankful and accept it as good. The dog had to go to the kennel. My husband had to call in care givers to take my place. Me? I faced another surgery. The hip that had just been put in on December 5, 2021, had to be taken out, cleaned, and put back in. And that was followed by months of antibiotic treatments—IV bags at the hospital. Furthermore, if that didn’t’ work—the cleaned out hip would be removed again, a temporary spacer filled with antibiotics would be put in, and some months later—the spacer would be removed and a new hip joint would finally be put in to stay…hopefully to stay…after more months of hospital IV treatments.

Wow.

But God is good all the time and all the time God is good. Our Dunoon New Life Christian Fellowship Church family was brilliant. They fed Alan and gave him the support he needed. The couple running the kennel treated Savannah like a family pet. And after having little and big machines sucking the horrible, stinky discharge out of my leg for months—so much discharge that it kept filling up the machines and killing them—I was released to go home.

While I was in the hospital I completed two new Christian cozy mystery-romance books. One is at the editors already, and one is waiting for me to have time to proofread it—because I’m home now. Home now means stopping the proofing to walk the dog, help my spouse, cook meals, and return to life outside hospital walls.

In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.

Amazon.com: Stephanie Parker McKean: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

Christmas Carrots

When as many meals are needed as the amount for a large hospital, it is easy to understand bulk purchases. Still, we will not be having carrots for Christmas at this house.

I just got home from spending six days at the hospital following a knee replacement. The surgery went well. The care level was exceptional. The meals were… torture. A person came around each day with choices for the evening meal. One seldom received the choice they had given—but as a bonus prize—there was a generous supply of diced, boiled carrots. Lunch, mystery meat with carrots. Dinner, mystery meat with gravy and carrots. Every. Single. Day.

The ward I was in had no toaster, so toast for breakfast was not an option. It was either cereal or porridge, neither which I eat. Not to worry. Day or night – carrots were always an option.

One patient seemed perky, bouncy, friendly, and likeable. She was. As long as she got her way. When anything crossed her—she threw such a hissy fit with a tail on it that extra help was recruited from other wings to calm her down and bring her under control. I don’t blame her. I blame… carrots. She just got tired of diced, boiled carrots. And if she remains in the hospital through Christmas, and for anyone else who remains in that hospital for Christmas—she will have diced, boiled carrots for Christmas Day Dinner.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds with visions of carrots dancing in their heads…

Nope. We are done with carrots at this house until sometime after Christmas. I’m thinking of re-introducing them in 2023.