Surviving and Thriving

Last weekend I was in Ossining, New York speaking to a group of cancer survivors on behalf of the Support Connection at their annual Survivor Luncheon at the Travelers Rest Restaurant.

To look out into the audience and see husbands, parents, friends, and co-workers sitting beside each survivor made me realize once again that it takes more than a village to get cancer survivors to the place where they are surviving and thriving!

The Support Connection is just such a place. Their mission statement says it all: “To provide emotional, social, and educational support services to women, their families and friends affected by breast and ovarian cancer. The support provided enables women to help each other and empowers them to become their own health care advocates.”

I spoke with one woman who was 23 years old and was just diagnosed with breast cancer, another was a mother of five who just finished treatment, and another woman sitting next to me had not started treatment yet , but through her smile I saw fear—the same fear I had before starting treatment 12 years ago. Some women wore pink ribbons for breast cancer and others wore teal for ovarian cancer, but we all wore the ribbon of courage that bears no specific color. But if I could give it a color, it would be ruby red like the slippers that Dorothy in the “Wizard of Oz” wore: vibrant and bold!

It’s been 12 years since I first heard the words, “you have cancer,” but they are emboldened in my brain. When Nancy Heller, the founder of Support Connection, asked the survivors to stand by years of five, ten, fifteen, and “yes” 20 years, I realized they were not only surviving cancer they were thriving—all in their own way!

Photo courtesy of Ken Valenti, Hudson Valley News. Click here to read entire article.


Technorati Tags:
breast cancer, ovarian cancer, caregivers, cancer survivors, Ossining, New York, Travelers Rest Restaurant Support Connection of New York

Oh where or where did my little blog go?

“Not last night, but the night before…” I was about to comment on my blog when I found an error (not unusual!). It was a typo! I know what you’re thinking…so what? Not that it really matters, but at that single moment in time it bugged me, so I went in to edit my post and somehow deleted the entire blog!

I love life’s little surprises.

Fortunately, I had opened my blog into two separate windows and so I cut and pasted it back where it belonged. If you’re reading this for the second time you’re not having a déjà vu experience, you’re enjoying the benefits of my error!

Confused yet?

I’ve discovered something about my personality (one of those hidden traits). When I have a million things going at the same time (Mark’s doctor appointments, pool therapy, getting ready to leave for a speaking engagement, writing deadlines, client deadlines, cleaning, shopping…), my brain goes on overload and shuts itself off. There’s a medical term for it, but it’s like autopilot. You know the feeling: you’re driving and you got to your destination safely but you don’t know how you got there? Now take that one step further and you’re right at the place I was the other night.

Scary, huh?

My brain short circuits typically around 1:00 a.m. The laptop in my frontal lobe shuts itself down into a dormant state and stays there until I go into “alarm” mode (like when I deleted my blog), and then I immediately wake up!

Today is catch-up day: no appointments, no deadlines, and no major crises. I’m peaceful and enjoying the “pause” before I have another, “oh where or where did my little blog go” moment!



Technorati Tags:
obsessive-compulsive, multi-tasking, caregiving

"These are a few of my favorite things..."

The doorbell rang and I rushed downstairs thinking it was my neighbor. No one was there! I glanced down and there was a box of “motor oil,” and I knew immediately the package was from my mom and dad. Dad is an automobile mechanic by profession and anything that comes in a motor oil box is definitely from the “Rowley Ranch.”

My mom is an expert packer and care packages are her forte. The tradition started when I was in college, later as a missionary in Sicily, and then when we moved 3,000 miles away to the East Coast. As I carefully opened the package with scissors, I hummed the song from “Sound of Music”: “These are a few of my favorite things…”

When the Styrofoam peanuts fell to the floor, I unearthed treasures of “gold”: garlic olive oil, Gursky Ranch raw mixed nuts, jelly beans (49 varieties), Mama Leone’s Zuppa (minestrone soup—cooks in 20 minutes); Tres amigos Enchilada Stew, and See’s Candy—Molasses Chips in milk chocolate. These are a “few of Mark’s favorite things,” but he’s willing to share!


Mom’s note read: “A little extra nutrition to help your bones heal and aid in your recovery!”


My mom is the queen of care giving. She cared for her mom and dad when they had broken hips, and her spiritual gift is “serving.” She finds no greater joy than helping others in their time of need. What comes naturally to her, is something others have to “work” at. But she also knows how to care for herself. Oil painting is her “refuge,” just as writing is mine. She has taught me through the years how to care for me.

“Just as airline passengers are admonished to put on their oxygen masks before helping others, caregivers must look after themselves. Signs of overload include feelings of isolation, stress, guilt, depression, helplessness, anger, and resentment.” This past week, I have to admit I felt helpless because my “patient” started to do things he should NOT do, like climb stairs with his walker while I was out of the house.

Two days ago, I returned home to find that Mark had climbed (unassisted with his walker) up two flights of stairs to put clothes away. He thought he was helping me!

I had gone walking for 45 minutes and when I returned, my hubby was nowhere to be found. I discovered him upstairs putting away folded laundry. Anger set in. “What if you fell? How do you think I would feel?” I cried out. My hubby explained, “I was only trying to help!”

I had him promise me he would never do that again, and to make our agreement “stick,” I made him sign a contract.

Care giving is hard work and it takes a village of “caregivers” to assist along the way. Everyone is doing their part: my sons continue to mow the lawn, do the heavy lifting, assist Mark with his shower, and friends come to visit, and my mom sends us a “few” of our favorite things.

Together it makes a difference in recovery and we look forward to the day when we can walk hand in hand down the Mt. Gretna hiking trail…another one of our favorite things!


Technorati Tags:
caregiving, stress, mental health, National Family Caregivers Association, isolation
posted by Connie Pombo @ 1:03 PM 7 comments

7 Comments:
At 4:53 PM, Susan Kelly Skitt said...
So my dear, it's easy to see where you've learned your art of caring and serving others :) Your mom is so sweet! And it's gotta be hard for your get up and go hubby to be kept down. It's great to hear how everyone is pitching in.

Praying my dear friend that you will be back on the trails soon.

Love,
Susan

At 6:13 PM, Connie Pombo said...
You and the boys will have to come up and go to the Jigger Shop (an old-fashioned ice cream parlor at Mt. Gretna); there's a lake, hiking trails, and a fun gift shop. Let's plan on it--okay?

HUGS!

P.S. Oh, did I mention a water slide and canoes?!?!

At 7:50 AM, Susan Kelly Skitt said...
Sounds like a date! Now, let's pick one :) Give me a call sometime this week, or I'll try giving you a call, okay?

Love ya and miss ya!
Susan

P.S. (That place sounds familiar - my grandparents have a cabin at Mt. Lebanon Campmeeting Grove. Maybe we can set it up for a time when my family in staying over at the cabin. I wonder if we could bring our own kayaks with?)

At 9:41 AM, Greg C said...
It's a constant battle for me trying to stop my wife from over doing it. She has a bad back but continues to take risks and do too much. I got on her yesterday when she was bending over to wash something that I could do. She tells me the same thing and is always saying "If I don't do it, it won't get done" I tell here to give it a try and see. One of us will pick up the slack. That's what a partenership is all about. You have a great Mom.

At 4:58 PM, Connie Pombo said...
Okey-doke! This is the week of follow-up appointments. It seems like I'm in the waiting room more than I'm at home. E-mail me your phone number, okay? I have it, but my office is in different sections of the house. I left the window open during the storm on Saturday.

HUGS!

Connie

P.S. Yes, bring your canoes. They have ones you can rent, but you can bring your own also.

At 5:02 PM, Connie Pombo said...
I hear ya Greg! It's been so hard keeping Mark down. Now that he's off pain pills, he has the energy with no where to go. His favorite line is from the Snicker's commercial: "Not going anywhere for a while?" Smile!

Your wife must have the gift of serving! But a bad back can put you out of commission for a long time! I know...Mark had back surgery while working for UPS when the boys were just 3 and 8. It was a LONG 3 months!

You two take it easy...moderation is my new word!

At 11:11 PM, Flea said...
OMG! I laughed and cringed when you said he climbed two flights of stairs alone with the walker. I was reading aloud to my husband and when I got to the part about Mark helping he said, "He was!". Arhg! Do you really think the contract will do any good?

Give your mom extra kudos for that tiny bottle of Tabasco. Is that the Chipotle? Yum!!!

A Day Out!

My "patient" was getting restless, so I took him for a day outing on Tuesday to one of our favorite places—Nissley Vineyards (just four miles from our home!). The drive is gorgeous and one that Mark traveled often on his bike when he trained for triathlons. The drive on the winding backroads reminds me of our old stomping grounds—Napa Valley, California. I’m always amazed—shocked really—at all the beauty we have right in our own backyard.

It takes planning, but Mark is able to ambulate to the car with his walker and once I get him in the front seat, it’s all “downhill” after that.

Mark took me to Nissley Vineyards for my 50th birthday (a few years ago!); he blindfolded me so I wouldn’t know where we were going. There was a 50’s band playing that night and everyone brought picnic “dinners” and enjoyed music, dancing, and amazing food until the stars and moon mingled into midnight. Some folks came as far as New York, Virginia and New Jersey for the weekend. And believe me when I say “picnic”—I’m talking candelabras with linen tablecloths. It’s definitely not your “grandmother’s” picnic!

On Tuesday, our lunch consisted of cheese, crackers and grape juice. I called it our “communion” picnic (that got a laugh out of Mark!).

We sat under the huge oak tree on the “hard” benches (Mark reminded me just how hard they were), but I distracted him with the gorgeous view that surrounded us: the stone-arched buildings, the farmhouse, and the rows of neatly cultivated vines waiting for harvest in the fall.


The perfect ending to the day was naptime when our cat, Bianca, finally rested on Mark’s lap for the first time since the accident. She was afraid to come near him (I guess that’s why therapy dogs are used in the hospital!).

Bianca’s purring put my patient right to sleep and no doubt he was dreaming about his first day out!

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caregiver, stress relief, Nissley vineyards

My Time-Out Chair

When my boys were little, I had a time-out chair for when they were naughty! It was used for those occasions when they didn’t obey me, and the timer was set for 3-5 minutes—depending on the severity of the “crime.”

Thankfully, I didn’t have to use it that often, but it became a refuge for me (although they didn’t quite see it that way!). Being able to separate my child from the action was important to me, and those three minutes allowed me to gain some much needed perspective. The chair wasn’t as much for them as it was for me!

Now that my “boys” are all grown up, I still use the time-out chair, but for a different purpose. I go to my chair to gain spiritual perspective and renewal. I have an inside chair for the fall and winter and an outside chair for spring and summer, but I "love" my outside chair the most because I have a view of our garden.
Recently, Carol VerBryck, author of Thee Prayer Chair Club e-mailed me and asked if I had a chair for journaling and I said, “Absolutely!” Thankfully, my chairs serve two purposes: journaling and prayer. My time-out chairs continue to be an ongoing source of rest, relaxation, and spiritual renewal.

Do you have a time-out chair? If not, go out and grab one…you never know when you may need it!


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rest, relaxation, journaling, spritual renewal

Chasing Rainbows

When the rain comes and the sun filters through the clouds, an amazing thing happens…a rainbow.

For years, I have been trying to capture the perfect rainbow on film. Yesterday while driving home, it happened…sun, clouds, rain, and a magnificent rainbow formed. I swerved off the side of the road and clogged my way into the corn field, only to realize, I didn’t have my camera. Duh!

Was I disappointed? Just a little, but I do what I always do under such circumstances, I pull on my right earlobe and take a mental shot. I stood knee-deep in mud and relished the fact that in the midst of yucky conditions, I was enjoying the view!

And then I realized that’s what life is made of, a series of events called “rainbows.” But it takes a concoction of special ingredients to create the rainbow effect: sun and rain. The bittersweet combination makes for a kaleidoscope of color—not just one but seven colors to be exact. Seven is the “perfect” number. And not to get too personal, but my husband’s bruises are also made up of the seven colors of the rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.

The last twelve days have been quite a journey and I’m so thankful for the bittersweet moments that have made up our “rainbow”: neighbors bringing in meals, my sons pitching in to mow the lawn, to give Mark a shower, to do the laundry, and carry in groceries. And now a neighbor is landscaping our front yard so Mark has a beautiful view out the living room window. Cards and phone calls pour in daily to keep Mark’s spirits high, and the non-stop bouquet of plants, flowers, and fruit baskets fill every room in the house.

This morning it rained again and the sun filtered through the clouds—perfect conditions for a rainbow to form. I grabbed my camera and went chasing after the rainbow, but there was none to be found. Funny how that happens, when we go chasing for rainbows…they disappear.

And then I realized, I already had my rainbow…it was right outside my door! A picture of my son mowing the lawn in the rain.

Technorati Tags:
rainbows, caregiving, blessings, hip fracture

New Hardware

Today is day eleven after the accident and I have to show off my hubby’s new hardware. When the surgeon pulled up the x-rays on the computer, I nearly passed out—seeing the before and after shots. The photojournalist in me snapped pictures of the “pictures,” and the surgeon reminded me that I could have radiology burn a CD of Mark’s x-rays for no additional cost (smile!). And I said, “Do they come with iTunes?” Isn’t it great when you can make a surgeon laugh?

It was pouring down rain today and maneuvering Mark in and out of the car was no easy feat. On the way out, I bumped another patient in a wheelchair, tripped over Mark’s chair, and ran into the car. The woman next to me asked if she could help me (she had two broken legs!), I laughed so hard I nearly doubled over. We were the “Three Stooges,” minus one!

Life is all about hurrying up and waiting and today was no exception. I counted my blessings that I was able to park the wheelchair without damaging more people or cars. Actually, there was method in my madness, I tried to divert Mark’s attention so he wouldn’t notice when they took out the staples. He has eight incisions in all, starting at his hip and working down to his knee.

The Steri-Strips are holding everything together now (hope that glue holds!). After his appointment, I treated Mark to Starbucks (the same place where I received the news on Mother’s Day of Mark’s accident). I had to let them know that everything was okay (sort of), and that my “patient” was waiting in the car. Mark got a free mocha frappuccino because he was still “alive.”

As we adjust to all the new hardware, we are thankful for God’s goodness in allowing us to enjoy even the simplest of pleasures, like the bunny that was waiting for us on the front lawn when we returned home.

Tomorrow’s another adventure, I can “hard-ly” wait!


Technorati Tags:
hip fracture, caretaking, medical appointments, intertrochanteric fracture

Caring for the Caregiver

Sunday is usually reserved for napping in our family and today is the perfect day: it’s raining and the sound of water tapping on the window, the swooshing sound of tires making their way through water-clogged streets, and rain gutters spilling their contents outside the door are all welcome sounds.

It’s almost blissful.

It’s day seven of caretaking. Mark is starting the uphill journey of his long recovery (see previous post). Yesterday, I was in Philly for the Mid-Atlantic National Speaker’s Association and received my pewter microphone award. It was bittersweet because Mark wasn’t there. Initially, we had planned to spend the day together at King of
Prussia and eat at the Cheesecake Factory to celebrate.

Instead my weary mind was on hubby. Did he remember to take his pain medication? Did I remember to mark his med sheet? Did I leave enough water within reach? Is his walker by the sofa?

The presenter was excellent, Sharon Bowman, and her topic was based on her book, Preventing Death by Lecture. She touched on one point and I laughed out loud (the only one in the room who did!). Sharon talked about the “reticular activating system or reticular formation.” You know the feeling. You are driving on a stretch of road and end up at home. And you say to yourself, “How did I get here? I don’t remember the drive from A-to-B?” That’s because your brain went on auto-pilot. We do it at boring lectures or when another part of our brain is occupied (like trying to be two places at the same time).

So while I was at the National Speaker’s Association—although physically present at Valley Forge at the Radisson Hotel—my thoughts were at home with Mark. I was miles away from the table which was interactive in nature—learning all the techniques to make our speeches come alive and memorable. So what was happening?

Caregivers are in a unique role. I’ve been on the receiving end and have done some caretaking of friends who were going through the cancer journey, but never 24/7. As a writer, I’m in a unique position to record my thoughts, which are “blank” most days because I’m on overload.

So what does a caregiver do? Here’s the list: grocery shopping, house cleaning, cooking, shopping, paying bills, giving medicine, toileting, bathing, dressing, eating…to list a few.

Did you realize that 75% of women are caregivers? And most caregivers are between the ages of 35-64. I’m 52—soon to be 53—so I’m right smack dap in the middle. I’m a baby boomer caretaker for the next six months.

So how do I know if I’ve been stressed out in my duties, here are some signs: sleeping problems (too much or too little); change in eating habits (weight gain or loss); feeling tired or without energy; loss of interest in things you normally enjoy; easily irritated, angered or saddened; frequent headaches, stomachaches or other physical problems.

Yep (I checked all of the above, and it's only day SEVEN!).

My mom said to me last night, “Wow, you’re talking much better today. For the last two days you sounded irrational!”

Umm...

I love my mom, so I evaluated my speech patterns over the last few days and realized, “Yes, I’m sure I did sound irrational.” I tend to get upset easily when my husband can’t walk, talk or toilet himself!

So what’s my care plan so I can care for me: Find out about community care giving resources, ask and accept help, stay in touch with family and friends, find time to exercise every day (even if its climbing the stairs at home), prioritize, prioritize, prioritize; join a support group for caregivers; eat right; take a multivitamin, and “take one day at a time.”

That’s Connie’s care plan for the next six months. So what about writing and speaking? I’m keeping a daily journal of my days, and writing the humorous and not so humorous moments. I’ve now added a new speaking topic to my list of keynotes which will be interactive: “Caring for the Caregiver: A Basic Plan to Stay Sane.”

If you know someone who is caring for someone full time, drop them a note and say, “I’m praying for you and by the way…here’s what I plan to do for you this week.” You may list as many things as you wish: run errands, drop off a meal (note I said “drop” it off!), mow the lawn, and pick up some groceries.

More tomorrow on the journey of caregiving!

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caregiver, resources for caregivers, mental health, national caregiver day

What a Difference a Day Makes!

We celebrated Mother’s Day on Saturday May 10, 2008 at “Mark’s” favorite restaurant! Jer and his girlfriend, Danielle, joined us. Jon was at Grove City studying for finals, but we certainly thought of him while we were enjoying our crab fest!

On Sunday, May 11—Mother’s Day—Mark decided to do his long cycle run for the triathlon he had been training for which was to be held at Mt. Gretna on May 24. Since it was “my” day, I decided to spend the afternoon at Starbucks writing a speech, “What’s Humor Got to do with It” for a group of oncology nurses. The weather was picture perfect, except for a slight wind that picked up around 12:45 p.m. I remember the exact time because my cell phone was on the table when they called out my “name”—green tea latte, tall, extra foam. I grabbed my green indulgence, along with a cobbler muffin and started to pull out the chair when my cell phone rang.

“Mrs. Pombo this is Hershey Trauma Center, we have your husband…” That’s all I received of the message when Verizon dropped my call.

My body fell limp, the latte spewed across two tables and landed on the floor, and the muffin went flying…final destination unknown. I let out a guttural scream, “Nooooooooooooooooooooooo. Please God let him be okay.”

I clutched my laptop and ran out of Starbucks. An elderly woman grabbed the back of my sweater and said, “Can I help you? I don’t think you should be driving.” I stared at her, but nothing came out of my mouth. Instinct took over and I drove to Hershey Trauma Center. The tree-lined drive is gorgeous in the spring. Twelve years ago I received my cancer treatment at Hershey Medical Center and actually looked forward to the travel time in the car. But this was different; I didn’t remember the trees or even walking through the entrance of the hospital.

When I approached the receptionist and asked about my husband, she greeted me warmly and said, “Please take a seat; I’ll call the chaplain.”

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaat. Why do I need a chaplain? My husband is hurt and I need to be with him,” I explained.

The sound in her voice made me realize, things were far worse than I had imagined. ”Is he alive? Please just tell me that?” I pleaded.

Silence.

When I turned around, there was a young man with a blue name badge that read, “Hospital Chaplain.” He spoke softly with a southern accent, “Mrs. Pombo, your husband is en route. Why don’t you wait here for a moment while I check on his status?”

The next few minutes stretched into hours as I realized just how desperately I loved this “triathlon” man of mine. My world collapsed between the time I heard “trauma center” and “I’ll check on your husband.”

When I walked into the trauma ER, I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. The image of my strong hubby laying lifeless on the gurney is seared into my frontal lobe. A part of me wants to erase it, but the other part wants to remember what I almost lost.

It seems like a lifetime since the accident. Kindness has poured in from unexpected places: a marine corporal who almost lost his leg brought my husband his “therapy” dog for a day; a neighbor brought over a meal; UPS sent so many floral arrangements and fruit bouquets, I can now open up shop. And my “boys” have been the greatest blessing of all. Jer—the teacher—has been over every evening and even gave Mark a shower—helping him upstairs (it took 45 minutes in his walker). Jon has answered phones, cooked meals, washed dishes, and stayed up the entire first night to make sure his dad was okay, while I finally got some much-needed rest.

The clicking of Mark’s walker is now a familiar sound, and when it stops I run to see if he’s okay. When Mark sleeps…I rest. When he’s awake, I run errands and do laundry. When he screams out in pain, I grab the pain pills and say, “How much?”

Each morning, I cringe as I watch Mark give himself the Lovenox injection in his stomach to prevent blood clots.” I ask, “Does it hurt?” His face tells me the truth I don’t want to hear.

I have been on the receiving end of caregiving many times and I have to admit it’s so much more difficult being the caregiver than the patient. Mark’s official diagnosis is a comminuted right intertrochanteric fracture with intramedullary rod and nail. It’s the medical term for a broken hip.

A pothole in the road caused my husband’s bike to flip and throw him 20 feet in the air where he landed on his right hip. Fifteen minutes later, he was found by two other cyclists, one of whom was an orthopedic surgeon and the other was a trauma care nurse. They provided emergency care and put Mark’s bike in the car with a note, “We wish you well and pray it’s not what we think it is.”

Last night Mark called “Michael and Lisa” to personally thank them for saving his life, but together we praise God for the divine physician who heals all our wounds and makes us whole again.

Mark will be off work for six weeks and possibly longer. His triathlon days have come to a bittersweet end, but right now he’s thankful to be hanging up his bike.

He’ll be joining me in my aqua aerobics class—one more thing we’ll have in common.

Together we say, “What a difference a day can make!”

Clean Teeth?

Did you ever use someone else’s toothbrush?

I did.

We just got home from the Weekend of Hope in Stowe, Vermont (more on that later), and I was just too tired to unpack. I parked my overnight bag on the floor in the bathroom with all my “essentials.”

Before we left for Vermont, we had a major leak in the basement and we had to call the plumber (can’t wait to get that bill!). My first thought at the time was, Oh no, I need to clean the bathroom before we leave.

It’s a woman thing: we need to clean the bathroom before the plumber comes even though the basement and bathroom are separated by three floors.

There’s no logic there, but it was important to me. My hubby still can’t understand what the basement has to do with the bathroom, but I told him I’d explain it to him on the way to Vermont (it was a nine-hour drive—just enough time to convince him that it was crucial that the bathroom was clean before the plumber arrived!).

I’m passionate about cleaning bathrooms. I get down on the floor with a toothbrush in hand and get in and behind all the nooks and crannies, including around the toilet (a trick I learned from having all “men” in the family).

Perfect!

Ten minutes later I had a sparkling clean bathroom and I was content. I put the pink toothbrush back in the pink plastic cup, laid it on the counter, and we were off to the green mountains of Vermont.

When we returned late Monday evening, I was exhausted. I grabbed the pink toothbrush, squeezed a generous portion of Crest toothpaste in a nice straight line and brushed my teeth. While I was brushing, I looked down at my overnight bag on the floor and saw another pink toothbrush staring back at me.

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. Please tell me it’s not what I think?

I spit. I screamed. I gargled with Listerine.

The "toilet" toothbrush was in my mouth!

And then I remembered what one of the presenters at the Weekend of Hope shared about the “tragedies” of life: “In light of everything, what’s the worst thing that can happen?”

I started with the worst outcome first: bad breath, amebic dysentery, cholera, and death.

No problem.

I had faced all of them before and I lived to tell about it.

No big deal, right?

This is day two and I’m still alive. Except I have put the cleaning toothbrush back where it belongs (under the counter), and my pink toothbrush for my teeth (not the toilet) is back in the toothbrush holder where it belongs.

All is "right" with my world. And no one has died…yet!

I’m still passionate about a clean bathroom. Only this time, I learned to put things back where I found them and NOT to use someone else’s toothbrush—even if it’s my own!


Technorati Tags:
passion, clean teeth, obsessive-compulsive, Weekend of Hope, cancer survivors

Allison Bottke on Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children

As one of the original Boomer Babes, who came out of “retirement” to do this exclusive interview, it gives me great pleasure to introduce Allison’s new non-fiction book, Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children: Six Steps to Hope and Healing for Struggling Parents.

ALLISON’S OPENING MESSAGE

I want to thank Connie for taking the time to read my newest non-fiction book and for sharing it here today on the Setting Boundaries April Blog Tour. You are helping to spread the word about a topic that desperately needs to be addressed—with a message already striking a chord in hearts around the nation.

Our country is in a crisis of epidemic proportion concerning adult children whose lives are spinning out of control—leaving parents and grandparents broken-hearted and confused. This painful issue is destroying individuals, families, marriages, churches, and communities. I believe in my heart that you are reading this message today for a very specific reason.

Do you know someone who has an adult child who is always in crisis? An adult child who brings chaos to virtually every situation? Could this painful issue be touching your life today? If so, there’s a truth I’ve come to embrace that has changed my life—it can change yours, too.

It’s taken me more years than I care to admit, but I no longer believe in “coincidences.” The truth I’ve come to embrace is that God is the Master of orchestrating “God-cidences.” He has a plan for who he wants us to meet, what lessons he wants us to learn, even what books he wants us to read. He even has a plan for the trials and tribulations of life.

When we begin to look at everything that happens to us throughout the day as “God-cidences” (and not accidental coincidences) it changes the way we view our world.

That said, my prayer is that you will see the following message and the book; Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children: Six Steps to Hope and Healing as a “God-cidence” placed into your life today for a powerful purpose. Perhaps it’s to help heal your family or the family of a loved one. Perhaps you are here to help us introduce this resource to a broader audience via additional media contacts you may have. Whatever the “God-cidence” may be, please know our primary goal is to bring hope and healing to families around the nation—thank you for helping us do that.

I pray you will view what you are about to read as a “God-cidence” meant just for you.

God Bless and Keep You,
Allison Bottke

THE INTERVIEW

Why do you think so many parents struggle with enabling their adult children?

ALLISON: We don’t understand the difference between helping and enabling, that one heals and the other hurts. We don’t realize that we handicap our adult children when we don’t allow them to experience the consequences of their actions.

How can we determine whether we are helping versus enabling our children?

ALLISON: Helping is doing something for someone that he is not capable of doing himself.

Enabling is doing for someone things that he could and should be doing himself.

An enabler is a person who recognizes that a negative circumstance is occurring on a regular basis and yet continues to enable the person with the problem to persist with his detrimental behaviors. Simply, enabling creates an atmosphere in which our adult children can comfortably continue their unacceptable behavior.

Why are you so passionate about reaching out to other parents?

ALLISON: Because I’ve been there—I still am in many ways. I’m a parent who has traveled this painful road of enabling. I understand what it feels like to have your heart break because of a choice our adult child has made.


What are some things that parents can do to break the cycle of enabling?

ALLISON: Follow the six steps to S.A.N.I.T.Y.: Stop blaming yourself and stop the flow of money. Stop continually rescuing your adult children from one mess after another. Assemble a support group of other parents in the same situation. Nip excuses in the bud. Implement rules and boundaries. Trust your instincts. Yield everything to God, because you’re not in control. These six things can start a parent on the road to S.A.N.I.T.Y. in an insane situation that is spinning out of control. However, a key issue in breaking the cycle of enabling is to understand whose problem it really is.

What does this book accomplish that other books on the topic do not?

ALLISON: Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children will empower readers with a no holds barred six step S.A.N.I.T.Y. format, stating in black and white the parental behaviors that must STOP, along with identifying new habits to implement if change is to occur. Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children will identify the false conceptions parents believe about themselves and their adult children and will counter each lie of captivity with the truth that setting boundaries is not only a good thing—but a vital part of hope and healing. True stories from other enabling parents and grandparents are woven throughout the chapters. Discussions with and observations from licensed psychologists and psychiatrists are also included.

What is the ultimate goal of Setting Boundaries?

ALLISON: While recognizing and identifying enabling issues must come before positive change can be made, it is the eventual peace and healing parents will feel as they gain power in their own lives that is the goal of this book. It’s a tough love book for coping with dysfunctional adult children, as well as getting our own lives back on track, Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children empowers families by offering hope and healing through six S.A.N.I.T.Y. steps. I walk parents through a six step program to regaining control in their home, and in their life.

ALLISON: I encourage your readers to tell me what they think about Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children. I really do want to hear reader feedback. They can reach me at: SettingBoundaries@SanitySupport.com. Please be sure to visit our web site at http://www.sanitysupport.com/blogtourguests.htm where they will find additional resources for helping them on their road to S.A.N.I.T.Y. Remember to tell a friend in need and help save a life!

Thank you, Allison, for joining us today. Remember, my friends, to post a comment so your name can be entered in the drawing!

CONNIE’S FEATURED REVIEW

Allison Bottke is a personal friend, gifted Bible teacher, author and speaker, but that’s not all, she’s has been in the trenches, as a mom who has been there. Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children opens with a section titled, “Why I had to Write this Book,” in which Allison bares her soul with what she has gone through with her son. This book will give you the tools to encourage, support, and equip you to deal with one of the hardest trials a parent can face: watching your adult child walk down the wrong path and realize you are helpless to fix it. Even if you don’t have adult children, I know that you have friends who are going through similar circumstances. This book, unlike others on adult children, gives you a true glimpse into the chaos of “enabling” your adult child, and then provides you with the godly perspective and practical tools to STOP the SANITY!

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Allison Bottke, adult children, boundaries, non-fiction

Upcoming Interview with Allison Bottke

Before I leave for the Weekend of Hope in Stowe, Vermont, I will be coming out of "retirement" with Boomer Babes to do an exclusive interview with Allison Bottke on her new book, Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children: Six Steps to Hope and Healing for Struggling Parents.

You won't want to miss this opportunity to win Allison's new book. Just leave a comment after the interview, and your name will be put into a drawing to be selected by my boomer husband, Mark. He's excellent at pulling names out of a hat! After all, that's how he decided to marry me (smile!).

The winner will be selected at midnight because bright and early the next morning we will be traveling up to Vermont.

When we return on Monday, May 5th (Cinco de Mayo), I will mail the book to the winner. Be sure to send me your e-mail address at conniepombo@hotmail.com because I'm not that good at pulling "addresses" out of a hat!

I look forward to seeing you all on Wednesday!

Blessings!

The Elusive Cardinal

Did you ever want to take a picture so badly that you risked your life doing it?

Near my home is a gorgeous sanctuary where wildlife, an array of exotic flowers, and plants abound. There’s even a reflecting pool that seems to stretch into eternity.

In the spring, many of the high schools have their prom pictures taken at “Donegal Springs Garden” because there are bridges, walkways, and an abundance of benches and gorgeous backdrops. But I come to the garden to pray, reflect, and give thanks.


After an hour of being in paradise, I walked back to the car and spotted a cardinal on a leafless tree branch just three feet away. I remembered my camera in the car and gingerly opened the door to grab it. When I reached in the glove compartment, I sneezed, and the bird took flight.

Seasonal allergies were the culprit.

But that didn’t stop me, I followed that red-feathered creature all through the park: I climbed over rocks, forged through streams, and fell into a groundhog hole, only to miss the elusive red bird mocking, “You can’t catch me!”

I consoled myself by saying, “I didn’t want a picture of cardinal in spring anyway; I wanted one in the snow!”

Liar.

To tell you the truth—at that point—any red bird would have done! I came home with scrapes, a bruised ego, and probably a few deer ticks.

The elusive cardinal escaped me this time, but I took the opportunity to look around me and find more beauty that I missed the first time because my eye was on just ONE thing—the cardinal!

How many times do we seek after the elusive thing and therefore miss the opportunity to find real beauty…all around us!

Celebration of Life Day!

April 12th is my “Celebration of Life Day,” which was the date of my cancer surgery 12 years ago! This year, I celebrated in quiet reflection by reading over some of my journal entries. I came across one dated March 30, 1996 (about one week after my diagnosis), where I wrote: “I never want to be this busy again. I want to spend more time with those that I love; I want to travel and do the things I’ve always wanted to do. I never want to miss a sunset!”

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I read those words, because guess what? Life has become that busy again! I wrote on Boomer Babes last week (before we took “spring break”) that I was juggling too many balls, and somehow I found myself back in the same place where I didn’t want to be.

I truly believe that the “black plague” of the 21st century is busyness and the need to SIMPLIFY is something we all need to do. I looked over my schedule and realized there are some things I don’t need to be doing.

Yesterday I took a long walk on one of my favorite trails in the Hershey area. The time alone and the pictures I took rekindled my soul. When I returned that evening, my husband said, “You’re like a different person when you come back from your nature hikes.”



I said, “You’re absolutely right! I do need to do more of that."

Spring is a time for new beginnings and to celebrate the life God has entrusted to us, and to explore our passions with new joy. I’ve cleared a lot off my calendar and scheduled in “Celebration of Life” days all through the week, not just ONE day of the year.

I’m so thankful for the opportunity to spring forward into my passions once again and to celebrate life every day!



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Weekend of Hope!

There's no better time to celebrate spring than to enjoy a weekend in the crisp, clean air of Stowe, Vermont. It's a weekend for cancer survivors and their families to come together to celebrate the gift of life. There are workshops, keynotes, and fun activities for the entire family. This is a once-a-year event (May 2-4, 2008), but the inspiration you receive will last the rest of your life.

It was four years ago that I first attended with my husband and it not only started me on my healing journey from cancer, but allowed me to pursue my passion for writing. The friends I've made there have become friends for life. This year I will be presenting, "Writing to Heal" and "Writing to Publish." Last year, one of the workshop attendees informed me, she just got published in a magazine for cancer survivors. How exciting to know so many are sharing their stories of survival and allowing others to catch a glimpse of hope!

For more information on the Weekend of Hope, visit: www.stowehope.org.