Minnesota Prairie Roots

Writing and photography by Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Sweet love June 24, 2018

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 2:53 PM
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HE TOLD ME TO EXPECT a package. Next week. But the priority mail box arrived from Massachusetts on Saturday. I was almost certain the techie son had shipped a one-handed keyboard, even though I told him I didn’t need one. I don’t as I can manage with one-handed typing until I recover from my broken left arm.

 

 

But I was wrong. Inside I found a surprise so sweet that I cried. I cried at the thoughtfulness of Caleb and his girlfriend, who had baked chocolate chunk cookies for me. Thick cookies with dark chocolate, my favorite chocolate. The best chocolate (chip) cookies I have ever eaten.

Turns out Caleb messaged his oldest sister earlier in the week for my cookie recipe. She didn’t have it and sent another recipe instead. I love these cookies.

Even more, I love that Caleb and Sunny thought of me and took the time to bake this gift. It was perfect. Such love and care cannot be bought, only given in an act of love.

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TO MY MANY FAITHFUL READERS (friends), thank you for your prayers, encouragement and well wishes as I deal with this injury and pending surgery. Your words are a gift. I am grateful.

© Copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

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The not-at-all amusing topic of domestic violence June 22, 2018

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
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I took a photo of this photo at a domestic violence awareness event in Faribault. The word STOP and outstretched hand (exactly how I landed, palm down when I fell) hold double meaning as it relates to this post. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

 

PERHAPS I’M MORE SENSITIVE than many people on the subject. But I have personal reasons for my feelings about domestic abuse. Many women who are friends or family have been directly or indirectly affected by domestic abuse or violence. Some of those victims are dead. Shot. Beaten. Attacked. Dead. (Click here. Here. Here. And here.

So when someone sees my broken left forearm, laughs and suggests that my husband assaulted me, I get angry. Inside. I try to react with words that are kind, yet clearly reveal that I am not amused. There is nothing even remotely funny about domestic violence or any violence against a human being.

 

A snippet of a domestic violence poster published by the Lutheran Church, Missouri Synod. File image.

 

I understand the medical personnel who ask me to repeat the story of my fall. It’s their job to be aware of possible domestic violence, sometimes hidden by the victim. They need to look for inconsistencies in my story, especially since I fell and broke my right shoulder just a year ago (while at the hospital to donate blood).

But I want to state here, publicly, that my husband of 36 years has never abused me. Ever. To suggest that in jest offends me. I heard the “humorous” accusations last year against Randy and now I’m hearing them again. Not funny.

 

Domestic violence cycle of abuse as photographed at a local awareness event. Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo.

 

That said, if you sincerely suspect a friend or family member has been abused in any way, don’t ignore what your gut, your observations, are telling you. Seek professional advice at a women’s shelter or advocacy center so you can help. Likewise, I urge you, if you are an abuse victim, to seek help. You deserve to live a life free of any type of abuse.

There, I got that out.

 

© copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Good news, bad news June 21, 2018

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:01 AM
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GOOD NEWS: I really do weigh less than the scale at District One Hospital in Faribault registered during my ER visit last Saturday morning. During a weigh-in at an orthopedic appointment Wednesday, I weighed the same as I do on my scale at home. That’s 17 pounds less than I weighed just days ago on the ER scale. I feel so vindicated.

Now for the bad news. I need surgery on my broken left radius. The news came as a surprise given I was told in the ER that I didn’t need surgery. That just goes to show the importance of a follow-up visit with a specialist. Outpatient surgery will be Monday. I’ll leave with a permanent plate screwed in place. Surgery seemed the best option for the best outcome.

It’s not a particularly major surgery, but surgery none-the-less. And I don’t much like surgery. (This will mark my eighth.) But who does?

There you go. I welcome all prayers for an uncomplicated and successful surgery and recovery, for full and prompt healing, and for patience. Words of encouragement are also appreciated. And hot dish if you live close enough to deliver one. Just had to throw in that, oh, so Minnesotan angle…

© copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

the power of laughter in healing June 20, 2018

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
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THE BEST MEDICINE for my days’ old injury of a broken left forearm came not in prescription pain medication, which I never picked up. Rather, it came in laughter, perhaps the best medicine of all.

First the backstory. On the day of my fall, Randy and I intended to head to our eldest daughter and son-in-law’s home an hour distant to babysit our granddaughter. Those same plans had been in place a week prior. But then I developed a bad upper respiratory infection and canceled. So I was especially excited about the rescheduled time with two-year-old Isabelle. Then I slipped on those rain-slicked wooden steps and broke my radius and…

Thankfully Izzy and her parents came to visit us the day after my fall. I wasn’t feeling all that great given only one hour of sleep Saturday night and a high pain level. But Izzy proved a good distraction. As we visited and Izzy played, she stumbled over a ball. Given the awkwardness of the tumble and her subsequent tears, I worried for a second. But she seemed ok, as in nothing broken.

 

One authentic broken arm, one not. Photo by Randy.

 

I asked Isabelle if she wanted her arm wrapped like Grandma. I expected a no. But Izzy said, yes, so Dr. Grandpa gathered supplies and wrapped her arm. Of course, we needed pictures, after Izzy pointed at my bandaged arm and then hers and counted, one, two.

We all laughed. Really laughed. Laughter is good. It releases endorphins, which my retired ER nurse friend Diane says promote healing. And I’m all about healing, especially the natural healing powers of a granddaughter’s sweet empathy.

 

Copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Hospital humor June 19, 2018

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 5:00 AM
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My splinted and bandaged broken left arm, elevated.

 

I DON’T WANT TO DWELL on the case of the broken arm. But I thought you would appreciate some humor related to my recent fall and subsequent left radius break. I need to laugh about ruining two simultaneous summers or I’d feel overwhelmingly blue.

Let’s start with my ER visit. I offer high praise to the staff of Allina Health District One Hospital in Faribault for the wonderful care. And I love the newly redone ER, which offers way more patient privacy.

But I don’t love the scale or the importance of securing my health insurance card, photo ID and weight before getting me a room and medical attention. Upon my arrival shortly before noon on Saturday, I wanted only to keep from passing out (due to hyperventilating) and to get relief from my pain. But first things first. Get this woman a wheelchair. Get the necessary info and then wheel her onto a scale. I expect this is all procedural protocol. But when you’re in excruciating pain, you wanted help yesterday and your weight does not seem particularly important.

 

My bathroom scale. Accurate or not?

 

About now, you’re thinking there’s nothing humorous in this story. Ah, but there is. The hospital scale showed me weighing nearly 20 pounds more than my scale at home. I told the nurse so. She ignored my protest and recorded the weight. I was mad. Later I would weigh myself at home. The difference—17 pounds. I expect maybe a several-pound difference. But almost 20 pounds? I lost 20 pounds more than a year ago and have managed to keep off that weight. I weigh myself regularly. And my clothes still have a much looser fit. Plus, the scale is relatively new and has matched weights from previous clinic visits.

My husband just laughs. Although he agrees that the hospital scale is way off (or he’d be 17 pounds heavier, too), he laughs at how mad I am about it. As the saying goes, don’t add insult to injury. Literally.

PLEASE CHECK BACK tomorrow for another humorous take on my broken arm story.

Copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

Here we go again June 18, 2018

Filed under: Uncategorized — Audrey Kletscher Helbling @ 8:57 AM
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ALL I CAN DO is laugh because it’s unbelievable.

For the second summer in a row, I am recovering from a broken bone, And, yes, just like last year when I broke my right shoulder, my latest break involved steps. Saturday morning, while descending wide rain-slicked wooden steps to pick rhubarb in friends’ backyard, I slipped. Just like that, landed on my butt, palms outstretched to break my fall. I never considered the steps may be slippery from the morning rain. Nor, apparently, did the two men who preceded me down the stairway.

The intense pain in my left hand, and its rather deformed shape led to an immediate self-diagnosis of a broken bone. I didn’t need to hear the husband’s, Your hand looks funny. But then he and our friend probably didn’t appreciate my repetitious not again and a bad word I spoke.

I don’t recall much about our drive across Faribault to the ER except urging Randy to drive faster. He replied that he needed to obey traffic laws. Well, if you insist.

After some 2.5 hours in the ER–I was bumped to position two out of eight patients–I was back home with my left arm newly-splinted and tightly wrapped in a trio of bandages. The good  news–the break of my left radius was clean with no surgery needed. For you non-medical types, and that includes me, the break is in my forearm right above my wrist. Yes, I’m still in pain. Yes, my arm from elbow to fingertips is swollen. And, yes, I feel like my splinted arm/hand/fingers are gripped in a vise.

Later this week I see my wonderful ortho doctor, at which time I will request a frequent flyer discount. He’ll laugh. Dr. Armitage has a great sense of humor and I really do like him. Eventually, I’ll get a cast.

And eventually I will be able to type two-handed again and use my camera. For now, my blogging will be limited. For all you language purists, you will have to excuse the errors in my writing. Remember, I am typing with one hand, uh, mostly one finger. It is slow and tedious. I’m hoping I can still complete some freelance writing obligations by deadline.

To my husband, I am sorry for ruining a second summer in a row. Thank you for all the extras you are now doing. You are patient even when I snap at you due to pain and lack of sleep.

To the staff at Allina Health District One Hospital, especially Clare, Michelle, Vanessa, Sam, Sandy, and the others whose names I didn’t catch, thank you for your kind, attentive and compassionate care. We are blessed to have these medical professionals working at this hospital in our community.

I will close for today as I need to elevate and ice my arm.

But just one more thing–that rhubarb never got picked.

copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling

 

 

 

 

Father’s Day love in memories & greeting cards June 15, 2018

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A greeting card from my sister and me to our dad, circa early 1960s.

 

AFTER MY DAD DIED 15 years ago, Father’s Day lost significant meaning to me personally. I had no dad to give a card to or to call.

 

The message inside the duck card, signed by our mom for her daughters.

 

I love giving and receiving greeting cards. But I’ve observed that fewer people send cards these days, choosing instead to text, email, call or simply ignore important personal days of loved ones. I noticed that with my birthday last fall. Birthday cards, especially from family, once stuffed my mailbox. No more.

 

The verse inside this card reads: “For being all that a Father could be/ Loving, gentle and good;/ For your patience and generosity/ In caring for your brood;/ For the happy glow of family love/ That other folks can see–/ Darling, for all of these and more/…A million thanks from me!” My mom signed the card, “Love, Arlene.”

 

Greeting cards, past and present, still hold a place of importance for me. I especially treasure the cards my mom saved through the decades. I have some of those, among them a handful of Father’s Day cards given to my dad.

 

Three of the four of us were old enough to sign this Father’s Day card to our dad. Two more siblings would be born after this.

 

I selected a few to share here because they hold a certain sweetness in messages, graphics and signatures. They are all vintage early 1960s.

 

Dad farmed, in the early years with a John Deere and Farmall and IH tractors and later with a Ford. (Photo by Lanae Kletscher Feser)

A photo of my dad, Elvern Kletscher, taken in 1980.

 

While I don’t have my dad anymore, I still have those greeting cards. And I hold memories of my farmer father who loved me and my five siblings deeply and taught us the value of faith, family and hard work. He wasn’t perfect—no one is. But he was a good man, an honest man, a man of the earth. And if I could, I’d send him a card today telling him how much I appreciated him and loved him.

 

© Copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling