No place like home.

"When I think of home I think of a place

where there's love overflowing

I wish I was home, I wish I was back there

with the things I've been knowing."

~ from The Wiz

Those situations usually seem so hypothetical. Even though I work at Grady and know that they aren't, no matter how hard I try to avoid not seeing all of these logistical changes that way, the inertia of every day living blurs out the reality. I wish I could say I was so deeply and consistently empathic that I haven't fallen short in this way. But I can't.

Our inboxes were flooded with emails about this. Well, maybe not flooded per se, but definitely we got our share of notifications. The contract between Grady Hospital and Blue Cross/Blue Shield of Georgia had been terminated. Those with that as their insurance carrier would need to seek care elsewhere. And I guess if the majority of your patients have no insurance you hear that and think, "Man, well that sucks." But I'm not sure if it mobilizes you to march on Washington or social media or whatever it is folks march on these days.

But seeing you last week felt like a stinging slap across the face. You, who'd entered this world at this very place. You wore that badge with pride--"Grady baby"--and had stayed loyal to the brick and mortar building that initially welcomed you. "I'm always gonna be a Grady baby," you said. That is what you said every time we saw you.

Not only did Grady give you life, you'd trusted us to save your life, too. Now officially middle aged and, yes, insured, you had a choice. But you continued to choose Grady. In fact, you even paid a higher premium to afford you the chance to do just that. You sure did.

I remember that day when I, along with the amazing resident doctor caring for you, gave you quite the tongue lashing about cigarette smoking. You countered it a bit but then gave in to the tough love recognizing the love more than the tough. "Y'all care about me," you said. And you were right.

We spoke of highly personal things that required trust and patience. The barriers to caring for you had long since come down so the things we dissected didn't make anyone blush or shift in their chairs. It was all love and all a part of the tapestry that had been woven over years and years of being a Grady baby. Medication changes, tests, and referrals. You did as we asked of you, asked great questions, and formed what I know for sure is the very best kind of therapeutic alliance--one built on genuine caring and mutual respect.

The muddy sclera of your eyes glistened when you told us last week. "This will be my last time here for a while. I have to go somewhere else." And at first I was puzzled but wasn't for long; your resident primary doctor clicked on the screen and up popped your insurance information: Blue Cross/Blue Shield of Georgia.

"Is there anything that can be done?" I asked, my naiveté  almost embarrassing. Both Dr. Spicer and you looked somber and acknowledged this inconvenient truth: Immediately? No.

Immediately, no.

And your health still requires "immediately." Close follow up and such. And it's never been a burden for you or for us to work you in because beyond the business parts there is the relationship part. The laughter, the fun-poking, the explaining, and the exploring. The parts that people don't show on the six o'clock news when speaking of Grady.

Maybe there are fine details that I don't get and surely there are high-level things regarding the dissolution of that contract that some person reading this can argue with a fervor that I cannot. I admit that I should know far more about the political ramifications but I don't. In fact, I'll even accept that I could have a better understanding of many other things related to health care and health equity that are still a bit fuzzy and slippery whenever I try to grab them in three full dimensions. That's the honest truth. But this? This encounter with you and your tearful eyes was as real as it gets.

Not slippery. Not fuzzy. Nope.

And so. We spent part of the time talking about your "immediately" things and the rest holding hands and saying good bye. At least, good bye for now.

When you told me where you'd be going, I wanted to be positive. "They'll take good care of you," I said.

"But not like Grady," you replied. "'cause there's no place like home." And all I could do was squeeze your hand in acknowledgement. . . all the while wishing that if only I could click my heels three times to fix this.

I can't, though. . . .at least, not immediately.

"Living here in this brand new world might be a fantasy

but it taught me to love so it's real to me

And I've learned that we must look inside our hearts to find

a world full of love

like yours, like mine

like home."

~ from The Wiz

***
Happy Sunday.

Now playing on my mental iPod and making me cry this morning. . . one of my most favorite performances of ALL TIME that never, ever, ever fails to give me chills or cause me to break down crying. I am so grateful to find it on youTube this morning. Thank you, Miss Diana Ross for words that are a part of my daily soundtrack while walking into Grady.

The Ides of November.

Yesterday was November 15. Two years to the day after we entered the new normal of life without Deanna. At least, life without her in the flesh. I'd say that's a good segue actually. It's been hard not being able to call her up or see her face or hear her hearty laughter. But the truth is this: It isn't "life without Deanna."

And, if it's up to us, it never will be.

This year it fell on a Saturday. The "it" being ides of November, that fateful marker of it all. And since the family's motto has been "more glad than sad," we all did things that were meaningful in her memory. See, Deanna always believed in punctuating important moments with fellowship and loving gestures. For her, the love was always in the details. A day of moping about alone, fielding text messages and emails by responding with nondescript emoticons wasn't an option.

Nope.

My day started out exactly as I wanted. The sun rising slowly into the sky of  a crisp autumnal day and a quiet house. I sat on my couch alone, closed my eyes, and prayed. Mostly, it was a prayer of thanks for having the chance to know and love Deanna and for not just surviving, but thriving in ways that I believe would have made her very, very proud. I prayed for my parents and for every parent who knows what it feels like to lay their own child to rest. I recognize the unnatural order of that, and how the grieving process of a parent who has lost a child is so exponentially different than that of losing a sibling. In that quiet time alone, I vow to remember that and I petition God to give my parents as much peace as is possible.

I asked some of my sorority sisters who pledged in the same collegiate chapter as me if they'd join me for an early morning run. I knew I wanted to get my heart pumping early on November 15, but also that  doing so in the fellowship of Delta girls would please my sister. She loved seeing people united and the sentiment of something like a "Tuskegee Delta Girl" group run would never have been lost on her. And you know what? Despite me asking for them to join me at an oppressively early time on an even more oppressively cold morning, they did.

They did.

And so. Tamika W., Ishan M., Valencia M., and Natalie K. all bundled up and flanked my sides as we did this kindness for our cardiovascular systems and our souls. We laughed. We talked. And, at one point, there were a few tears. Mostly from me when I thanked them for being with me  and how much I needed them that day. I appreciated them and I needed them to know it.

Yes.

We had such fun. It was exactly what the doctor ordered and felt like the most perfect chicken soup for my soul. Yes, it did.

I channeled my inner Deanna and ordered a little souvenir to give them commemorating our run that morning. Yes. Ordered it--which is usually the kind of thing I'd never have my act together enough to do. But Deanna? She would have been all over that.

Yep.

In our chapter, especially as pledges, we sing lots of songs and make many references to ducks. It's not necessarily unique to Tuskegee, but is something I've noticed we emphasize a bit more than others. And so. A run with my fellow Gamma Tau chapter initiates seemed fitting for the little token I found--a little red ducky covered in hearts. Yes, hearts.

I cried when I gave it to them. The symbolism of it, the sacrifice they'd made, and just the whole idea of it all. What could be more important in a sisterhood than this? Being there when a sister needs you. This? This made me feel so  . . so. . .full in side. And probably always will.

I'm so glad we did that together. Tamika suggested we do an annual Gamma Tau Deltas Duck Run from here forward. I told her it's a date.

After that was football. Zack's team was in the semifinals and fought hard in a very painful loss in overtime. It hurt my heart to see him crying so hard, but some part of me loved the passion it represented. Deanna would have been the loudest of all at that game.

I thought of her a lot this season. Her energy, her zeal for supporting family at sports events. I cheered for us both this season. (My alter ego, Kimmy T., is really a hybrid of Deanna and me. LOL.)

Harry let Zachary know that he'd left it all on the field and that he was proud of how hard he'd tried. And how much of himself he'd given. I told him that if he hears thunder later, it's because his auntie is applauding from the heavens. He'd given his best effort -- his very best effort -- and that was all anyone could ask for. I even felt like I'd made a better effort to support him, too. As Deanna would--through those loving details like ordering green mini megaphones for the moms, getting the whole crowd going, and never, ever missing a game.

That's a good metaphor, now that I think of it. Leaving it all on the field, you know? I think that's why Deanna affected so many people. She lived her life so big and bold. She loved hard and intentionally and never left people guessing about where they stood with her. When you asked her to do something, if she could, she did it. And she did it with such enthusiasm, such attentiveness and love. How exquisite is it to have lived a life where others can say that you left it all on the field?

Of course, it feels so abbreviated, her life. We imagine what more she could have done and mourn that loss. But when I think about how well she played her life, I can't be mad. With her love, there was never any pass interference. Her aim was always spot on.

Yeah, man.

The rest of the family did special things, too. Will and Fran had the "Auntie Dee's Lemon Drop" martini at Rivals, the restaurant Will owns. Earlier that day, he and his son David played their "First Annual Auntie Deanna Father-Son Golf Outing." Which, as you can see, was perfect.

JoLai and Poopdeck went on a hellacious hike up in Baldwin Hills yesterday. Dad sent this pic of them with the caption: "At the top of the hill and still lovin' Plinko!"  We all smiled when we saw it since Plinko was his pet name for her. It also made me happy to see their hearts pumping, too.

Mom was exactly where she needed to be. At the place that gives her the most solace--the ocean. A group of her good friends joined her down at Siesta Key and when I spoke to her she sounded peaceful and happy. Which made me happy.

And so. Yes. It's been two years since Deanna made her transition. But I'm happy to report that the kids are still alright. Love doesn't die. It doesn't. And since we know that, we are all still more glad than sad. And pressing on to live our lives with purpose and especially, when it comes the legacy of love when have to give. . . . leaving it all on the field. Just like she did.

Yeah.

***
Happy Sunday. Are you leaving it all on the field? If not, why?

Best. Husband. Ever.

You love me especially different every time
You keep me on my feet happily excited
By your cologne, your hands
Your smile, your intelligence

You woo me, you court me
You tease me, you please me
You school me, give me some things to think about

Ignite me, you invite me
You co-write me, you love me
You like me, you incite me to chorus

Ooh
Ooh
Ooh, ooh, ooh

~ Jill Scott

_______________________________________

"I'd do anything for you," he told me recently.

"I know this." This was my reply.

"I love you so much," his simple texts often read.

"You more" is my usual response. But it should be "I know."

Because, I do. I know. I know that he loves me. Through the look in his eyes. But especially his actions. His kind gestures that say, "I know this matters to you so I will do it." Those things that shift him away from his comfort zone and into mine. The teeny-tiny things like turning on the seat warmers in my car or picking me up some mediterranean food because he knows I love it and not caring so much that he doesn't.

I walk into the room and he says, "You okay, baby?" And he asks it like he means it. Like, if for some reason I am not okay, he will do whatever it is I ask of him to help me get okay. Which is awesome.

There are some things he's not. Like, he's not schmoozy. At all. He can be a bit of an introvert when faced with many-many people and generally won't be the one yucking it up with the boss or jumping onto the stage to belt out Marvin Gaye at the annual holiday party. His flowers are handed to me quietly on days like Tuesday and his surprise gifts on times that don't usually coincide with milestones. He is honest. The jeans that smash my butt like a pancake will be reported to me as such if I ask and fortunately not so much when I don't.

He believes in me. In this understated way, he looks at me like whatever it is I am trying to do is attainable. Or maybe even more than attainable. Like. . .I don't know. . .it's already done. He's not the guy throwing the confetti at me at the end of the half marathon. But if I asked him to do that, he would. That is, if he could tell that it was important to me. Which makes me think of another tender thing about the man I married: I often measure whether or not to tell him what I want against how seriously I want it. Why? Because he will do whatever he has to do to get it for me. Or do it for me. To help me get "okay."

His love makes me feel beautiful. I mean it. Beautiful. 

He loves me. Especially different. Even on an ordinary Monday, he does. And for that, I am thankful.

Yeah.

***
Happy Monday.

Now playing on my mental iPod. . . .Jill Scott providing a perfect soundtrack to how I feel every single day that I get to be with this man. Listen and you'll feel me. He incites me to chorus. . .loudly. . . because he loves me. And you know what? I love him, too.

This boy of mine.

I could look at his face all day.

***
Happy Tuesday. Again.

Images and Moments from a birthday weekend in This American Life.

Living to be another year older is something to jump about. Here are some epic pieces of the weekend commemorating my 44th birthday. Got your seatbelt fastened?

Let's go!

Knew I wanted to run a race for my 44th birthday. There is significance in that because, one, I am just glad to be here. But also I realize that Deanna was 44 when she departed. I wanted to enter that year with my heart feeling physically and emotionally strong.

There was one race that actually fell on September 7 (today) that I almost signed up to do. It was a 15K and sounded like a really high energy race. But a race on Sunday meant going to bed early on Saturday. Though I was probably better trained for the 9-ish miles of a 15K, I opted for a cool half marathon scheduled the day before. Yes, it would be 4 extra miles, but . . . I just wanted the option of a fun Saturday!

My friend Jill J. did the 5K and was gracious enough to carpool us to the expo in Peachtree City--nearly an hour south of Atlanta. Thanks Jill!

It was a downright YUCKY weather week in Atlanta--and the forecast was for thunderstorms on Saturday. Of course, we woke up to clear skies with only a few scattered clouds. That meant that those 4 additional miles would have to get sucked up whether I liked it or not.

Got to do this with my dear friend and former Grady doctor/chief resident Frieda M-J. You might remember her from our fantastically cougarific and epic Justin Timberlake concert experience.

Yeah. So you KNOW we were having an automatic good time.

Did I mention? This would be my 4th half marathon in less than a year. This was also Frieda's fourth half marathon which kind of made the whole 44 thing seem even cooler.

Enter "The Beastie Girls."

We decided that the fact that each of us being 40-something mothers of two school-aged kids and loving wives and women who take care of patients, teach learners how to take care of patients, regularly do stuff in our communities AND maintain our womanfriend friendships--yet still figure out how to carve out time to train for races makes us officially BEAST MODE.

That's when we named ourselves "The Beastie Girls."

Yup.

The Beastie Girls not only survived--we thrived, baby. No, it wasn't a personal record (PR) for either of us, but it certainly wasn't a personal worst, either. As a matter of fact, we were beast mode for the first 8 miles but with that 100% humidity (combined with my sketchy training) we majorly slowed it down for those last five. Thank goodness we did because there were lots of people getting medical attention along the way.

How funny are these split paces? Notice a bit of a trend with every two miles? That's what you call a car overheating. Ha ha ha ha ha. . .hilarious, man.

Despite our crazy splits, we made it over the finish line hand in hand and still smiling. We hydrated like crazy, listened to our bodies, and saved up enough energy to do the obligatory Kim-Manning-jump-picture.

Ha.

Some part of me wanted to ask everyone I knew to send me a jump photo on my birthday. Kind of like, "Jump if you have a beating heart and you just did something to keep it healthy!" Then I hoped it would go viral. Sort of like a jumping version of the ice bucket challenge. But better because no one would get annoyed and the real challenge would be to GET UP OFFA DAT THANG and get your heart rate up. Or make some great food choices. I'm just saying. I think it could catch on, man. With a donation to The American Heart Association, too? Maaaaan, please. That would be hot. You heard it hear first.

Ha.

The one at the very beginning of the post was an epic fail taken by a stranger who obvi wanted to see us decapitated seeing as she took no less than twelve headless jumping photos of us. Oh. Did I neglect to mention that almost always getting these shots involves asking an innocent passerby to keep taking these until finally we get one?

Um, yeah.

Speaking of which: OMG--how happy was I to receive a birthday text message this morning from my line sister Falona G. with this awesome picture attached? Her two school-aged daughters giving me an early morning Kim-Manning-jump-pic all the way from Denver, Co.!

Best. Gift. Ever.

Yeah. So the Beastie Girls beasted it out and even made a few friends along the way. The finish line included a tiara, a boa and some champagne, y'all. I ain't even lying.

Oh and the heaviest, most big-time blinged out medal I've received to date.

We are going to run the Miami Half in January together so stay tuned for our super obnoxious "Beastie Girls" #beastmode attire. Consider yourself warned.

Ha.

Now. Please don't gag when I tell you this next part.

Ha ha ha. . . . by the time we waited for the shuttles and drove the hour back to Atlanta, I was already past the time of Zachary's kick off for his football game when Frieda dropped me off. So in true Beastie Girl fashion, I literally unlocked the door, ran into my house, peeled off my running capris, threw on some clean shorts (and undies), grabbed a bottle of water and some ibuprofen and was pulling out of my garage less than 7 minutes later. Yes, you read that right. I had not showered. After a 13.1 mile run in 100% humidity.

Did I mention his game was 50 minutes away?

Talk about BEASTIE GIRL. Eeeeewwww.

But I wasn't missing my baby's game if I could help it. Nope. Plus it was sure to be hot as fish grease there any way so what difference would it make? (Don't answer that.) AND I already had on my Tucker green. Toes included, BAY-BEEEEE!

Thank goodness the BHE loves me. He didn't even rope me off as a hazardous material when I sat beside him. I got to snuggle him and everything. That man loves me.

I don't think I look too bad considering the circumstances.

Can't you tell I'm crushing on him this week? I look like a teenager scooted all next to him, don't I? I love when he's all football daddyish. Gets me every time.

Lawd.

And can I say that as sweaty and icky and gross as I felt, I knew I'd done the right thing when my son looked over his shoulder during that game and saw his mama cheering on the sidelines at the end of that second quarter. His shoulders pulled back and his three point stance was just a little more . . .three point stance-y. 

Plus he knew I was running a big race that morning and that there was a chance I couldn't get there in time. I like being the mom that does get there, though. Whenever it is possible, of course.

So since I went ahead and decided to be a Beastie Girl, it was indeed possible. And you better believe that boy came and sat down right next to his mama on the ground as soon as that game was over. Sure did.

This was when I asked Isaiah if this was his first snow cone-slushie-thingie of the day. Ha.

Still letting the Beastie Girl sit this close. This is real love, y'all.

Ha.

Oh. Have I told you of my obsession with Alex and Ani bangle bracelets? They're these awesome collectible, stackable bangles that you've probably seen around before. Or may even own already.

Anywho. My line sister Glencia (my Chicago Rock and Roll Half Marathon partner in crime) turned me on to them. I love the positive messages on them and the timelessness of how they look.

Guess what? Glen sent me this in the mail for my birthday. An elephant charm bangle from my Delta line sister. Perfect, right? Love this and am already wearing it.

Speaking of Delta girls from Tuskegee. . . . .

Next up was a date night with the BHE to celebrate the fabulous 40th birthday of Tamika W., another of my Tuskegee sorority sisters. She pledged a few years after me, but we are a close knit chapter. Tamika and I are also running buddies and she's always hugely supportive of all that I do.

Tamika was also the first person who ever agreed to put up with the very first post-race jump photo with me. Yes! The tradition started with her at the Atlanta 10-miler last year. Ha! She's a great sport, man. She has a very special place in my heart so I knew I couldn't miss her big day.

Nope.

Sure it was my birthday, too-- but what could be better than celebrating a milestone year with a good friend?

I'll tell you what. Celebrating a milestone year for a good friend with THIS man right here. Lawd. I was crushing on him so, so bad. Even more than when he was all football daddyish.

Funny sidebar:  After I un-Beastie-girled myself with a much needed shower post football game, I literally face planted. I got IN THE BED and UNDER THE COVERS. Sure did. Guess what woke me up? Our sitter pulling into our driveway! Harry was knocked out on the couch, too!

RUT ROH!

We were both TOTALLY not even CLOSE to being ready to go anywhere. Fortunately, our "sitter" was one of my awesome SG advisees, Amaka (from SG Delta.) She was so gracious and awesome. I really appreciated her looking out for us so that we could get out that night. (And get ready to get out. Ha.)

So the Gamma Tau Delta girls and many more celebrated the 40 year-old birthday girl in fine fashion. Even though my legs and hip muscles were KILLING ME, I shook a tail feather with my man and did Delta party strolls with my sorors.

So yeah, that was fun. Tamika looked amazing in her sparkly Diana Ross dress and the DJ was the same one from our wedding reception! We danced until we could barely stand any more. It was meant to be.

After a pit stop at Mardi Gras Cafe for some late night grub (bad, I know) we both passed out just seconds after showing Amaka our appreciation for giving us a wonderful date night.

Took our time and woke up late today. Hit the 11 o'clock church service as a family, heard a good word and then hustled back home. Harry nearly fainted when I told him he could watch the Falcons game in peace while we headed up to see Grandma and Auntie JoLai (who was in town this weekend--woo hoooooo!)

Did y'all know that today was also Grandparents' Day? Well, it is. So we went to Shugsie's and initially planned to just chill up there and watch the game. That is, until JoLai pulled me away so that we could go watch the Falcons vs. Saints game at Rivals on Five, the sports pub Will part-owns.

Man. Now that I fully understand football? It's SO much more fun to watch. We had an absolute blast. My other big sis Frannie braved the rain to join us, too. She and Will just celebrated their 21st wedding anniversary this week so everyone was feeling super festive. We even had the "Auntie Deanna's Lemon Drop" drink that's on the menu--named for our favorite angel.

The Atlanta Falcons/New Orleans Saints rivalry is something horrible. Oh GAWD. The trash talking is on a whole 'nother level. So this was a major nail biter that even went into overtime. . . .

Field goal! And the Falcons WIN!!

New Orleans Saints? More like the New Orleans AIN'TS today. Ha! Let the front door hit you where the dog shoulda bit you! Let the front door hit you where the good Lord split you! Take yo' beignets and BEAT IT! OUR WORK HERE IS DONE!!

 (See? Told you there is trash talking.)

And lastly, this:

This is when I was leaving to head home and JoLai was walking me to the car. She always cries when we leave each other now. Ever since Deanna left us she has. So I hug her and kiss her and then I say something really, really ridiculous so that she'll laugh.

Today that was a really, really, really bad a capella version of "Go Outside In the Rain." It did the trick.

"I thank I wanna go out-siiiiiiiiiide. . . .in the raaaaaaaain. . . . it may sound craaaaaaazy but I. . . ..think I wanna go out-siiiiiiiiide. . . . ."

Bwah ha ha ha. No sad tears after that, baby. Ha!

After that, I headed on home to find the BHE knee deep into another game. We all snuggled into the ordinary of our family evening lazy time--me on my laptop, the kids playing together, and Harry clapping at the television. . . . occasionally being interrupted by his wife pouncing on him and stealing kisses since she's crushing on him so badly these days.

It was a wonderful birthday weekend. Super exhaustingly, full and wonderful.

Glad you could join me!

***
Happy Sunday.

This one is for you, JoLai! Ha ha ha. Picture me singing this at the top of my lungs--exactly this version but 100 times louder and horrible-er. So gonna sing this every single time you get ready to leave me from now on. . . . .