Best Comment to date on OBL death
I got this from a comment feed on Michelle Malkin’s facebook page…
“
MEN OF GENIUS. Today, we salute you, Mr. “I Killed Osama” Guy. You
blame your failures on your predecessor, and your media kiss your feet.
You voted against funding the troops for Iraq AND Afghanistan, and
fooled enough voters to get into the
White House. Now, even as war protestors scratch their heads about
whether it is good news, you claim credit for what the American troops
deserve ALL credit for. So, Mr. “I Killed Osama” guy… we salute you.
Even though we all know that without President Bush, your big day would
not have been possible.”
Yeah…Thank Bush 43, Thank the Military and General Petraeus, Thank you Intelligence Community, and Remember the Fallen.
The most Obama deserves is a handshake and “Thanks for maintaining Bush policy” even though he has fought tooth and nail against it.
The “Urge” v “Reality”
Ok, so right now I am making an entry because I am procrastinating on actually doing anything else. I started out the day by waking up…no earlier or later than usual. Except I decided that I’d play a couple of levels of Angry Birds. My sister-in-law told me about that game and I have been addicted to the stupid thing! Anyway, a few hours and three levels of Angry Birds later I get my butt out of the bed. I need to do so many things and there is not an iota of motivation to get them done.
I determined that I would let the dogs out (which they certainly were begging for at that point), get myself a cup of coffee and then start in on the day. We are up for our six month inspection and so there are a few things that I’d like to have cleaned up before the day. I seriously need to do dishes and laundry as well.
So I let the dogs out, then proceeded with my plan. Cup of coffee.
I figure I can drink my coffee and check the interwebz for all the trivial things going on in the world. I am gonna start what needs to be done as soon as I finish my caffeine intake- only I decide that my “cup” is going to be my largest cup…which happens to hold about three and a half normal cups of coffee. So yeah, right now I am still working on that first step.
I do seriously need to get this stuff done…that’s the urge. The reality is that I just am so friggin tired.
Same thing happens with the blogging too. I think of something great, or see something I want to comment on- but then I sit down to the computer and my mind goes blank!
OR…like now…there are serious things going on that I really want to comment about, but they are pretty serious to the point where I just don’t know where to start or how to really say something without sounding like a major cow. So I’ll leave the post trivial…and maybe take on a couple more levels of Angry Birds
Wanting to Reconnect
I’m actually making a post, y’all.
Of course, most folks won’t even know that I have because I’ve been so non-posty for awhile now. The why are pretty much the same reasons why I state in every other post in the last year or two- but ALAS! I will be making no promises today for the future.
I am only in one class this term and so I have a bit of time on my hands. There has been some IF stuff going on that I may get to later, but today I am just typing to kill time. I figured I should probably let y’all know I’m still alive and breathin on the other side of the screen. That and I don’t really want to read- I’ve literally read 12 novels in the last 8 weeks and written somewhere around 16k words of papers in the same amount of time.
Can you see why I just don’t feel like typing any more! Or reading much anymore either.
For those of you who might still see this, let me know in the comments how y’all are doin! I haven’t been plugged into the IF community for awhile now so, with a exception of about 10 people, I have no idea whats goin on!
Just Not Answering the Question
Lately it seems like people ask me questions I just don’t want to answer- but I don’t want to lie. I have a real aversion to lying- even those white lies that everyone tells. Not saying that I don’t lie because there is no way I can get away from being human. Most times if I lie its not on purpose…one of those “Wait a second…was that true? Really?” I do have the tendency to talk (in person or on the phone) without thinking about everything relevant. It isn’t like typing things out- cause even when you are typing it requires a bit more thought than just speaking. Sometimes I ramble on and on though so it comes across as me just moving my fingers across a board and letting things flow. Hum. Some of that didn’t make sense- I don’t know if that proves my point or not.
Anyway, back to those questions. I think people are catching on to my subject aversions. Lately they seem to be less transitory- I don’t just act like they didn’t say anything at all. That, by the way, is completely different then acting as if I didn’t hear them at all. I find that to act like I am just not hearing them prompts them to just keep asking- which is annoying. So I just skip all that polite stuff in the middle and make the point with a “Hum” and then move on in the conversation.
It is more than just about infertility though. I pretty much just let them be uncomfortable with the answer since they don’t usually seem to think there is anything wrong with asking about our lack of children- ultimately our sex life. Its been more than six years- at this point it just doesn’t make sense to be anything but blunt.
I don’t like questions about my husband. Weird, right? I should probably specify that it isn’t general questions about him but when it comes to his deployment or our relationship status because of his deployment. It annoys me to no end when women go online and carry on about their husbands being gone. I understand it the first few days after they leave…even the first few days after they have to go back from their R/R leave…but six or seven months into a year or 18 month deploy…constantly…and then asking for others to join them (specifically asking me questions whose answers would essentially force me to join them) grates on my last nerve. C’mon folks! Everyone doesn’t need to know every time you talk to him, or think about him, or someone references his name. Everyone doesn’t need to know…period. The Hubbs and I do talk– but not where everyone can see cause its none of their business.
Just like if I don’t know you I don’t want to know about your sex life- or lack thereof (this is definitely not in reference to any of the IF community because well- what is fertility without sex, right?). I don’t want to know about your plans for him coming home or your body image as you dwell on him coming home. Live life! Geez. It is a private reunion and no one needs mental pictures about what you will- or will not be- wearing.
The Hubbs asked me just a little bit ago why I had cut myself off from the FRG (Family Readiness Group) here while he is gone– and what I have written is a large part of the reason why that is. I’d rather not know or participate in these activities if its just gonna be a complain-fest. Same thing with connecting through social networks online- cause the majority of women who do participate pull that complaining into every aspect of the online world. So my friend lists get shorter and I grow less annoyed…which can only benefit me even if my social circle is limited to just a few people here.
There isn’t a real point to this post…just letting out the annoyance. Figured that I have this place and so I should probably use it instead of just bypassing. Maybe I’ll be able to concentrate on my school work now.
It Is A New Year
I’ve sat in front of this screen for a few minutes…wanting to write but not knowing exactly what to say. I am listening to a song that is beautiful and really its what I need right now : Be Still My Soul
There is alot of disquiet goin on inside of me- not that it’s anything new. This year- this 2011- hasn’t exactly started in a great and uplifting way. I admit that I am anxious about what the year will bring. Last year really sucked…even throwing the good things that happened into the equation it doesn’t balance out. You know I made a resolution this year: to not place any unreasonable expectations on myself. I am left wondering- just 10 days in- what it is I can expect for myself?
My Uncle Steve died yesterday afternoon.
He was my favorite Uncle. Wait. Not “was”, but still is. The last time we were together he was making me laugh. He made me get up and dance with him–in his wheelchair. We stood outside to watch the 4th of July fireworks. He was laughin and his carefree self lookin up into the sky. He held my hand and called me little one.
He by no means was anywhere close to perfect but he was a good man. He was a womanizer- we called him Bull. He took care of his kids though and he never lied to the women he was with. They knew what he was before they jumped in the bed (or-ahem-where ever). I think its a testament that all of his kids and baby mama’s are active in our family and always welcome. My cousins never had to wonder about their Daddy or felt treated poorly by any member of the fam. The women knew they could call on aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins if they needed help with the kids. Softball, football, track, birthday parties were attended by everyone.
It is so odd for people to imagine that my favorite Uncle was so different from me. I have…had…other Uncles that were more like me and I loved them but its…was… a different relationship. I am really going to miss him.
I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Just like with my brother last year.
My Dad and Aunt are the last one’s left and I am so scared that I’ll not be able to say goodbye to them either. My Dad is sick…we are waiting for them to schedule him for a kidney transplant…we have been waiting for almost three years now. Been trying to get him transfered out here to the East Coast but they have plugged up the paperwork. They don’t need to find a donor or anything- my baby brother is a perfect match. It is just waiting for the Doc who can wield a knife to do the surgery. What if something happens this year? Is it bad that I am saving as much money as possible just in case Daddy dies? So that I can be there for this one thing at least?
Morbid, right?
“That’s Logistics”
Today has been long.
My Grandma- who I love more than anything- was at the MetroTech in Downtown Brooklyn this morning. She was there when they didn’t know if this package was or wasn’t a threat- and it was worse than Sept 11 for the simple fact that I KNEW she was there. When Sept 11 happened she worked directly across the river from the towers, but her job dictated that she make home visits. In those days she lived in Manhattan and often started her day later than she would normally. She could have been at home, in the subway, at work or on visits at any point that Sept AM.
Today I knew she was there. If it had been an active threat there would have been no getting away for her…
I have a far greater appreciation for UPS and their “That’s Logistics” slogan today than I did yesterday.
Making it Easy…
So, I have now set up the blog here so that I can post but not actually be on the site- though I am not entirely sure how that will motivate me seeing as it really isn’t that big a difference to type in Windows or actually on WordPress. Maybe me posting this is a good sign?
I don’t know but kudos to Windows Live for making it easier!
Happy Birthday, Bro
Happy 27th Birthday, Brother!
Today would have been Germy’s birthday and I am conflicted about what the importance of a birthday is when someone has passed away. It isn’t really something I can put into words…at least not yet. What I have been thinking over lately that Germy was so talented that maybe he was only supposed to be here for 26 years. If it was supposed to happen though- that is a pretty rough way to make the transition. When I say Germy was completely talented I really mean that he was. He was playing first chair violin and could rock out with his band. Music was his hobby though- food was his love (which kind of surprised everyone when he said he wasn’t going to school for music). He, at 25, became the executive chef at a small, atmospheric place in Missouri. Oh man and he could bake! Pastry chef was his goal in culinary school- and he did make it- then got something better. I wrote before that I am having some issues – a kind of stunted grieving. This knowing that he isn’t in the world being happy scares me- so I tuck it away for awhile.
I miss you Germy and I love you always
❤ “The Short One“
RIP Lori
I don’t know how many actually have heard about what happened here at Ft. Stewart over the last week. One of our unit wives, Lori Arrowood, (whose husband is serving with mine in Iraq) went missing Saturday, 25 September 2010. Her body was found early Wednesday morning and later in the day an arrest was made. She was a mother and a newlywed- this October would have been their first anniversary. My heart breaks for her husband and her children because the man charged was no stranger to the family.
He started his trip home to search for his wife and arrives stateside with the worse possible news to greet him.
If you are a praying person then please pray for this family and her friends. Our FRG (Family Readiness Group) and the community are very supportive but there is no possible way to even imagine how they are processing this.
Someone- I don’t know who- put together a kind of tribute of Lori’s life the past couple of years so I thought I would post it.
A New Nephew
I have a new nephew as of today: Riley Paxton
Happy Birthday Lil One
He was 5lbs 14oz and 19in long. My brother cried when he held him. My baby brother- the one I taught to walk- now has a baby of his own.
It is interesting how life works…my brother, Germy (Jeremy), died in March and a month later my sister gave birth to our precious Azik. Today is 09 September- six months since Germy died. His 27th birthday would have been a month from today.
My heart is joyful but it is sad too. I can’t even bring myself to delete his phone number from my cell. I miss knowing he is alive in the world- and I wish he could have seen his nephews.
Worst.Year.Ever.
and only half way through. I dread what comes next.
RIP Cousin Miguel
Killed in Florida
15 August 1979- 8 July 2010
Survived by his Wife and 5 children
Hit by a Truck
We’ve all heard the saying before- But I mean it quite literally. A truck…well- an SUV (but I don’t know anyone who doesn’t call an SUV a truck).
As I seem to begin most of my posts- it has indeed been awhile since my last post. I still feel odd about posting in the new space. It isn’t “broken in”. I want to say its like breaking in new shoes but I love shoes and I kinda just suck up the pain of breaking them in whereas a new blog I kinda of just avoid posting in it.
Anyway back to the truck.
No one in Hollywood could possibly write my life. Not in one script. I don’t think they would think it completely possible that so much can happen in so short a time. I read that I think “Oh my Lord! Does my self-centered-ness know no bounds?!”. It is my blog though so really what else would I focus on, right?
Anyway- back to the truck- for real this time.
About a week and a half ago I got a phone call from my Dad. My Grandma was hit by an SUV. Literally.
She doesn’t drive.
She was standing at the corner waiting to cross the street. She was on her way to catch the bus to a birthday party of the little granddaughter of one of her friends
A guy was so busy trying to text and drive that he checked the curb and didn’t even realize he hit her.
He dragged her behind his truck for a block and a half.
She was standing in front of our building so thank God the tenants were outside and saw everything. These people have been renting the space from us for years (over 20) and so really they are like extended family. One of them literally picked her up and ran her to the hospital (its not the greatest hospital in the world but it is the closest). Another called my Uncle since they all have his number because he is the emergency contact for them. He lives an hour away in Long Island. A group of them detained the driver and called the cops. It helped that my Uncle is a cop- he’s almost retired and has been teaching at the NYC Police Academy for the last 7 or 8 years. I don’t know what is going to happen with the driver. I can say that I am not yet reasonably objective about what happens to him at the moment. Whatever time can be slapped on him I want him to get, whatever punishment.
Who knows? Maybe that is reasonably objective, right?
When my dad called he asked me if I was home and if I was sitting down. When he said “There’s been an accident” my heart started racing.
Okay, let me just stop here for a second and make an observation before I continue. It is relevant so it isn’t really one of those rabbit trails that I am known for.
This whole experience has me wishing that family feuds were as easy to resolve as it is on television or in the movies or books. Its not that easy though. My Uncle (subsequently his wife and my cousins) has had minimal contact with our entire side of the family- with the exception of my father- for the last 20+ years. I won’t air out all the dirty laundry by going into all the reasons but I will say that the separation was sustained by my Uncle and Aunt and then for whatever reason my cousins took up the banner. I’ve always been really – proactive- in sending cards for Christmas and inviting them to our wedding. Anything big so that it can’t be said that I perpetuated this. My Grandma and I had decided awhile ago that it would be a policy of politeness- only its been one sided.
I have great memories of my Uncle from when I was really young and wonderful memories that are shared with my cousins. Fact of the matter is that they are strangers to me now and based in actions that they have chosen to make in the recent past, I don’t trust them. I don’t trust them and neither does anyone else on this side of the family- my Grandma’s nieces, nephews, brothers, sisters, etc. Yes, he and my Aunt were at the hospital first but I wasn’t comfortable until I called my cousin and he was there as well.
I’ve had to suck it up though and it has been alot harder than I thought it would be. I am not a rude person and I am so grateful that he and my Aunt are stepping up to care for her now. Especially since I can’t be. I can’t afford the plane ticket. My husband is deploying within a week. When I got the phone call I hadn’t been home an hour from the hospital.
Oh yeah, I was in the hospital for two days. I had a couple/few of “severe” infections (UTI, bladder and kidney) with everything that goes along with those and with the stress that created within my body triggered a fibro flair and a CFS flair. So when my dad called and asked if I was at home and sitting down I literally had been home about 45 minutes and was just beginning a week of ordered bed-rest. I couldn’t lay on my back or my front because of the tenderness. I missed the first three of his phone calls because of all the situating that happens when one gets home from the hospital.
Life is odd. My Uncle is all of a sudden making plans to come down and visit me in September. I didn’t tell him no- no matter how much I dislike family I don’t ever say no to something reasonable. Now, I’ll kick them out if they bring something I don’t agree with into my home but for family my home is open if they want to come. It’s the way my Grandma raised me. Like I said before- I won’t be the one to perpetuate separation when the issue isn’t mine. It’s kinda throwing me off though cause he’s never wanted to come. He lied to me about coming to my wedding so I am not exactly holding my breath. They are taking far better care of my Grandmother than either one of us expected- though part of it could be that the eyes of the family are all on him while he has my Grandma.
While the estranged son makes his way into the family, my father withdraws from it. When he called he told me in a very matter of fact matter and then ended with “Well, I am going back to sleep- I have to go to work in the morning.” He didn’t ask if I understood what he’d said, if I was going to be okay, or anything. He spoke directly to me and is probably the only one that doesn’t know that I was in the hospital. The whole situation with my Uncle isn’t my issue but the situation with my dad is my issue. You know he’s only called my Grandmother ONCE since she was admitted to the hospital and then it was for less than a minute. She termed it a ‘courtesy’ call. But he had plenty of time to go to the movies, out to eat, spend time in front of the television and going to friends houses (we do have mutual friends even though we don’t actually talk to each other). Those of you who read here know how I’ve written of the betrayal I have felt from him before. You would also know how much I love (and how much I value) my Grandma. If this incident were stand alone I would have a really hard to get past but as it stands I don’t see how that is going to happen.
What kind of person shows such disregard for their own mother when she is in such a situation with no reason to warrant the action?
Maybe That’s It
Sometimes I am confused.
Well, that really something that isn’t new. I don’t know — well, remember– if I wrote here about this situation with our oldest Niece and Nephew (ages 9 and 12 respectively). In case I didn’t let me briefly review: The Man’s oldest two years ago was completely unknown to our side of the family. My husband’s parent weren’t married and not even 18 and so when C was born she was taken to be raised by a distant relative. Two years ago she found my sister in law Rae. When asked why his mother failed to mention another sibling, my Mother-In-Law told them she was waiting for the right time to tell them. I find it interesting that in 28 years there was no moment good enough. I would have like to invite them over for our wedding.
Anyway, they live in the Philippines and C approached my Mother In Law about having the kids sent over because the opportunities in education and living conditions are getting poor. She- in turn- mentioned it to the Man and at the time we agreed to take them both should the family choose to help out. We scheduled a “family meet” to talk about options for next week.
Naturally, when my Grandma called I told her about what was going on. After I told her the background and the tale she says we shouldn’t adopt the kids (which C and their father were willing to do so they could be here without worry about their resident status). Then she says that they should go and we chip in money. Then she says chip in money and keep them over there because I shouldn’t want to separate the children from their mother. Basically what the conversation meant was that I wouldn’t know how to be a good mother and that I wouldn’t even if I created a support around me. We should not adopt at all. I am just lonely .She asked about the Man’s other siblings and why they haven’t offered to do anything. When I told her of J and D (sister and brother in law who have recently moved to Jersey City from Cali) and their deep desire to not be parents she says “They are smart”.
And in the meanwhile she can help plan the 125 guest baby shower that the family is throwing for Aracely- my 19 year old, unmarried cousin who apparently is somehow more able than I am. The Seattle branch of the family are flying to NY to attend. See this will be the first baby born to the younger generation so there is a lot of excitement
Maybe therein lies this lesson that I am not learning.
I am going to go ahead and tuck that into another compartment in my head and stack it on top of the rapidly growing compartments . I don’t know how much more I can take or how much longer I can keep tucking these things away to deal with individually.
I love my family but recent comments have left me scratching my head about how it is they see me exactly
I Miss My City
I am having terrible home-sickness. Its almost been 10 years since I’ve been in New York and now is when its setting in. It was the last place in my life that was honest. Not easy or without its pains but it was honest.
I never felt rejected or lied to– not in anything that mattered.
Im broken now. Completely. Fully. In a way I never expected to be.
I can’t seem to bring myself…to anything
The World is Against Me
That certainly sounds pretty self centered huh? I guess though that is really the only way to view things seeing as outside of my experience things are still pretty abstract.
You know I said that I was going to stop writing here- and I went and got a beautiful blue journal with gilded pages. I even set up a new blog and gave that address to my family and friends so that they would be able to keep up with how I am doing with the Man going off to the sandbox here in a few weeks. I don’t think they have any idea how long I’ve been blogging because to be very honest none of them have taken the time to look since we came out of the IF closet. It kind of brings a relief of sorts that they choose not to come here to see what may be going on with me – or what has gone on with me in the past four years- but at the same time it kind of hurts to know that there is at least a low level of indifference there. That I can brush off my shoulder though. The new blog I want to be happier than this one is. I want it to be funny and random. All these things I used to be and I really want to get back to that-buuuut I am not thinking that is going to happen. I suppose that I still write here because it is still my safe place.
Right now I am working on catching up where the events of the last 10 days or so have pushed me behind. I woke up at like 0730 and after breakfast I’ve been in front of this computer just trying to bust out the work. I was up until I think 4 this morning working on my English Lit course- easy peasy. Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130. And a comparison of Shakespeare’s Sonnet 60 to a contemporary sonnet called “Anthem for Doomed Youth” by a 24 year old Wilfred Owen. I’d definitely suggest looking it up for a read. Let me stray from my intent (by the way I’m procrastinating if you hadn’t noticed) and tell you about this young man. He joined the Army and was sent to Scotland to recover from shell-shock. He was in the trenches of the First World War. He wrote poetry while he was recuperating and wrote this sonnet in 1917 while being treated for what we would classify as PSTD (post-traumatic stress syndrome) and trench fever. When he was discharged he re-enlisted to fight again in the war. He died in battle– one week before the war ended 11 November 1918. He was only twenty-five years old. For those of us who have family and friends who sacrifice themselves in part or in whole this sonnet is really one that hits kind of close to home. Then take a peak at Shakespeare’s Sonnet 60. Ok, let me put my literature nerd away.
Sigh.
For anyone who has kept semi-interested in this abandoned bloggy home of mine, you guys know that this year hasn’t exactly been great if one were to look at everything that has happened. I thought I was dealing pretty well with everything to spite the stress making me very literally sick. Believe me, that is all you would ever want to know about that. Anyway, so I never really had to utilize the whole “compartmentalization” method until 10 days ago.
Where to start?
Job hunting is not going well for me and based on a number of different people I really should not expect a job in the first nine months of looking. I started looking back in October 2009 and had one really good prospect until they changed The Man’s report date and she couldn’t wait that long. One lady was here two and a half years and couldn’t ever find anything– that is until her husband got orders, of course. I did go to the career fair (I won’t even get into what people interpret “business casual” to be) but the only thing I was qualified to do was a contractor job- in Kuwait. UHH, no thanks. First, I have no intent in going to the Middle East unless I am a tourist. Second, I am still unpacking boxes so there is no way I am going to go and pack everything up again. Third, I am not leaving my dogs behind or leaving them with anyone but myself for longer than a few weeks.
My doctor here sucks already. And the provider list they have for Pain Management Centers is ridiculous in how out-dated it is. The first referral the people had been out of business for over a year. Instead of them going and looking for another doctor they gave me a website and told me to call them when I found a doctor who was taking new patients. Two of the numbers were also disconnected and one of those I actually drove to the address and it was just an old building. No idea where they went and no idea of how to find them. So I found that the second to last provider on the list was in fact taking new patients so I called the referral office and they faxed the letter to the office. I called and the woman on the other end (Lord help me) told me that I couldn’t make an appointment even though I was on the phone with her and she knew that the letter was in the process of being faxed at that very moment. She told me (with no small amount of attitude by the way) that she would call me to schedule an appointment. So I waited a week… then a week and a half. I called again and this woman had the ovaries to catch an attitude with me talking like “I SAID I would call you to make an appointment. NO you can’t make an appointment now because I am not ready to call you yet”. Geez! If a hand could go through a phone I swear I’d have gotten myself into trouble. I hung up and called the referral office to file a complaint and tell them that I don’t want to go to a doctor whose nurses and staff think they can speak to a person that way. How are they gonna act while I am having a treatment? So there was only one provider left and I must say that I was dreading the phone call to see if they would accept me as a patient. The woman who picked up the phone was very nice and she said to go ahead and send the referral. I told her I would hang up and let the referral office know so they could send my information. So she calls me and is asking me the preliminary questions. She asks what the source of my pain and when I say fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome there is that pause– you know the kind…the one where you know that there isn’t a darn thing they are gonna be able to do for ya– and she says that he doesn’t usually treat fibromyalgia but he would see me anyway. Translation: we can’t do one thing for you but we are gonna take the referral, make the appointment and get the money.
I’m in an incredible amount of pain that honestly is at a level I’ve never been to. Its beyond a ten. Its at the point where I just move because I know there are things that need to get done. This typing means I won’t be liking my fingers tonight. My knees hurt… not just like achy knees but if I bend them they hurt. If I straighten them they hurt. Elevated. Lowered. Supported— it all hurts. My feet hurt from walking- my heels, arches and balls of my feet. My head I wish I could disconnect and there are no words to describe my neck. I tried to get a massage but that was a bad idea because it only teased the muscles and I literally could feel it days later. I can’t get through a day without sleeping in two or three different times. (sigh)
I found notes for two loans that I knew nothing about in the closet. (I’m sorry if I don’t provide a great amount of details but I am gonna guess that most of you will understand- if you get this far down the word ladder). Sunday I could feel that there was something else. Down in the pit of my stomach. The Man lied straight to my face and after just asking the same question over and over again he told me that he cheated on me while we were in EP.
I never really comprehended true brokenness until last Sunday. Infertility was a painful throb. A sore spot that gets kicked really hard once a month or more. By the way, on Sunday I was already six days “late”. I would bet everything I have that I didn’t even ovulate last cycle and that my lining was virtually non-existent. Anyway, quite apropos, that is the day my cycle started. It was amazing (not in a good way) how much faith I put in him and deep down somewhere everything would be okay because no matter what I had him. Betrayal like this is more encompassing than I could have ever thought I would be. The best way I could put it is that before I was like a crisp picture- maybe my edges weren’t sharp anymore because of what has been thrown into my path but the picture was still whole- still one discernible and definable thing. I have no doubt that personally I will get through this but it broke my heart even more that I can never be that person that I was Sunday morning. I’ll make a mosaic and it will be beautiful but it won’t change that its just a bunch of pieces that don’t fit together without some sort of mortar- or is it grout.
You know that our Pastor has begun a new Sunday morning series called “Family Planning”. Not in the reproductive kind of way but in how a family supports each other spiritually, emotionally, physically. Yesterday his message was on marriage and while I had already made my decision about how to move forward it was like the message was God-ordained to be given yesterday- just for me. I have a long road ahead of me. My Grandma told me about my Grandfather and that she’d been through all this as well but she was rash and made decisions that she wishes she didn’t make. A side-note: My Grandma is the best woman in the world. For two days I didn’t know how to pick up the phone to call her. I wanted my Grandma and I wanted my Mama. I just wanted a hug and had no where to turn to get one. I didn’t know who to call or what to say if they had picked up the phone. The Man and I had a conversation and everything he had sugar coated and lied about and simply omitted came to the fore. It hurt, I am not even gonna lie- but I think that really I was already numb to it all- which was probably the best way for me to hear what needed to be said. I can’t say more right now…just because it needs to go back into its compartment. One day at a time and only as much time to think of it that doesn’t render me incapable of doing anything.
Like I didn’t and do not have enough on my plate to deal with my Mama was arrested for felony theft and some old warrants originated in 1995 and we thought had been taken care of two and a half years ago. Right now, that is about as much as I am going to say because it does require a bit more mulling over.
Actually right now I don’t think I can deal with dealing with it- if that makes sense. So, I’ll get back to this in some way, shape, or form in the possibly near future.
I’ll leave you with two very random thoughts:
1. My hot water hose on the drier must not be on tight Because as I sit here I can see water flowing in my general direction
2. I really like Almond milk. Just regular- not the vanilla flavored one. Try it… its nice
Compartmentalization
I never really felt a need to utilize this mental method until now. I don’t physically have the time to write all that I feel like writing. I’ll just have some words- phrases that one should keep in mind have happened in just the last two weeks.
The last two…the things before that are crazy too but its not whats fragmented in my mind. I didn’t have to put things away in my head just so I can function though a day. The last two weeks have been hard (mildly speaking) for my siblings, myself, my parents. I won’t be grouping the words/phrases into which part of the family it pertains to – but be assured that I am going to have to pull out at least each of them to just be able- for a moment- try to at least sort out the details in my mind.
eviction. fiances. its a boy. infidelity. gut wrenching illness. pain. pain management. transfer. arrest. theft. nonsensical. commercial real estate. wills. adoption. nieces. nephews. death. infertility. loneliness. deployment. FRG. betrayal by “friends”. omission. school. guitar. unpacking. job-hunting failure. faithfulness.
Interesting.
I find it interesting that I still write here..or rather that I am. This being the most public of each of them but the least known to my family or my friends. I don’t think any of them have read here in the past and if they don’t ask I just don’t tell.
Its. Interesting.
Anyway, I hate my doctors here and want to scream and cry. Well I’ve done that already but who’s to say that I won’t do it again. For example my new PCM (Primary Care Manager): it took me almost six weeks to get an appointment, then I saw her and she basically told me she wasn’t really going to do anything but change my beta blocker (personally I don’t think its working as well as my little old pill used to). She referred me to a pain clinic. She told me she wanted to see me in a month. I went to the appointment desk to do that very thing and the lady says they can’t book that far ahead and they would be calling me when the window opened.
I waited for my letter to come in the mail and when it did I called the number- which was disconnected. I looked for an alternate number. There was none.
I drove to the address and its an empty building.
I call the referral line and get another referral and while doing that I asked why they can’t keep their provider list current.
They give me a new person in Richmond Hill. They tell me they will fax my new letter and I can call and set up my first appointment. It took me two days for someone to actually answer the phone and then the woman on the line told me that they didn’t have the letter yet and when they get it she will call.
So I waited a week… and called to see what was going on. The woman snaps attitude at me and tells me that she will call me with an appointment. I asked her if they received the referral and she says “yeah.” That’s it. Just “yeah”. I asked why I couldn’t make an appointment since I am already on the phone with her. She raised her voice at me and was all like “I TOLD you I would call you to set up an appointment”. I hung up the phone. Called the referral office and told them I didn’t want to go to that clinic. I’ll not accept that kind of behavior. They obviously don’t want me as a patient and if I see that woman face-to-face I might not be so nice.
Only one other listing on the provider and its on the other side of Savannah. I called the number to see if they were accepting any new patients and the answer was yes. The woman was completely courteous and helpful. I call the referral line and once again get my letter changed. The woman calls back to get some information and when she asks me the reason why I would be attending the clinic and when I said “Fibromyalgia and CFS” she said, “Oh.”
That’s it. Just “oh”.
She goes on to say that the doctor doesn’t usually treat Fibromyalgia patients and doesn’t know if he will accept me. He may because I am a Tri-Care patient. That’s code for “we’ll take the initial appointment– even though we know we aren’t going to do anything for her– so we can get the money”.
The skilled doctors who practice integrative therapy are few and none of them are taking new patients without referrals. Even though I am willing to pay out of pocket- it doesn’t matter.
I usually try not to say too much about FMS since I gripe enough about the infertile part, but I am in so much pain. Literally. My last treatment was 05 February. I usually had two appointments in a month. Its now been about three and a half months and I am not doing well at all. These people don’t seem to care though.
Remember when I wrote that my PCM told me to come back in a month? And how the appointment desk told me they would call me? Well, a month has passed so I call to find out why I don’t have an appointment and the guy says no one put in for one. I asked him when the next available appointment is and he says 13 June.
I ask if there is nothing sooner because this is a follow-up appointment and he tells me no. Did you, reader, notice when that date is? A month from now. After they told me at the desk that they can’t schedule that far out.
At least my guitar lessons are going well. Yesterday was fun in a completely non-productive way and I learned three things. The guitar pick is my nemesis. They go missing apparently straight out of the neck of my guitar (who is named Cealy by the way). I much prefer just using my fingers but then I tend to strum. Because of this preference I can hold the pick as long as I am not playing but want to stick it in my mouth as soon as I begin. Which is the second thing I learned: make sure I bring gum so that the mouth is “occupied”. The last thing I learned is that I focus alot better when I have a hat one.
Don’t ask me how that works cause I don’t know. Its like it keeps my brain together. The same thing happens when I clean the house. I have to have my head covered or I’ll just go from one thing to the next- leaving everything unfinished.
I’ve Got A Feeling…
I have this admittedly odd habit of being a human music reference machine. My friends find it both amusing and annoying (which is understandable for drives that last more than 6 hours) that I have all this music just stuck in my head. Sometimes the words will pop out of my mouth unbidden. This is especially uncomfortable when I am talking to someone I don’t know and they say something that triggers this odd reaction. It sounds like I am being rude for interrupting and/or not really listening to what they have to say and nothing can be farthest from the truth.
Why did I say all that?
No reason in particular. It’s just that I have been sitting here in front of the screen trying to sort myself out. The radio isn’t on or anything– Black-Eyed Peas just popped into my head- so there ya go.
To be complete forthright I had thought of naming this post something like “The Feeling Is Beginning”
You know Mother’s Day is coming up. The dreaded holiday for people in my particular branch of the fertility tree. I feel like this time around things are some how worse. I hate to sound like a broken record year after year…after year…after year
To spite my attempting to be positive throughout every other holiday of the year it just doesn’t seem possible with this one. I don’t want to celebrate motherhood and yet am forced to by having a mother (which I am so very grateful for and love dearly) and now my sister is a mother. I can’t even type it without tears.
When my nephew A was born I was on with Skype and my sister-in-law was all like “Welcome to the Club”. I feel like I’m not the one she will turn to when she has a question. Already I feel like I am just on the outside looking in. No one thinks to ask me anything seems like lately.
And I have to admit that I am so incredibly jealous. I don’t even know if there is a stronger word but if there is then that is where I am on the scale. I’m jealous because I wanted to be the daddy’s girl who … I don’t know
We were very close to losing our Daddy just a couple of months ago. It’s a very real possibility that he’ll be gone and I won’t get those looks of pride and joy.
Yesterday was a potluck at The Man’s Battalion. Everyone there had kids. Everyone asks “Do you have kids” and having to answer it over and over again has not helped this depression from setting it. I just wanted to get up on the stage and make an announcement but somehow I don’t think that would reflect greatly on The Man- you know- to have a crazy wife.
Useless. Insignificant. Irrelevant. Invisible.
Those are the feelings setting in. These television commercials. Going to the store or a restaurant and everywhere I see pregnancy and motherhood. What did I do in a previous life to deserve this? What lesson am I not getting that warrants the continuation of this misery?
You know I’ve stepped far away from the IF community over the last year or so because I know I can’t handle it. I’ve tried to approach our childlessness a few different ways and while it seems to work for a little while it always comes down to those four words. I tried to be positive. I tried to be helpful to other women who have questions and I can’t just keep answering questions and watching the anonymous people have success. I decided with The Man’s help that I just can’t do that anymore.
In the last two years all three of my younger siblings will have become parents.
In the last two years all of my very best friends have become mothers. The most recent being my very best friend who married in March and became a step-mother- which is perfect for her because she never actually wants to be pregnant or particularly wants to deal with those early years. She is happy with her place in her daughter’s life.
And I swear on all that I hold dear if one more person tries to tell me I am a “mother” because I have dogs might just be the straw that breaks this camel’s back.
SocialVibe: Ovarian Cancer Funding
Hey all!
So I am sure most of you noticed the new widget I have in my sidebar.
If you haven’t then I would ask that you please have a look in my sidebar.
Ovarian Cancer needs more funding. This is close to my heart because about 12 years ago my favorite Aunt (my Grandma’s sister) died from ovarian cancer. To click on the link will not cost you any money- just a couple of minutes and some space on your Facebook (or Twitter or MySpace). The sponsor listed will donate money for every minute logged in from this blog.
As the majority of my readers here are women I am hoping that you will all help out. I mean the most of us have reproductive issues as it is (thus infertility) but our paths- while difficult- are not fatal. I ask that you click the link as you would for the Breast Cancer Awareness movement. Ovarian Cancer deserves the same level of research and that can’t be accomplished without funding.
And for those of you who are men- please click the link to honor the women in your family.
If you’d like to make a monetary donation then please go to: Ovarian Cancer National Alliance
From OvarianCancer.org :
- Each year in the United States, more than 21,000 women are diagnosed with ovarian cancer and about 15,000 women die of the disease
- The American Cancer Society estimates that about 21,550 new cases of ovarian cancer will be diagnosed in the United States during 2009
- A woman’s lifetime risk of developing invasive ovarian cancer is 1 in 71
- A woman’s lifetime risk of dying from invasive ovarian cancer is 1 in 95
Ovarian cancer survival rates are much lower than other cancers that affect women.
- Overall, the ten-year relative survival rate for ovarian cancer patients is 39%.
- The relative five-year survival rate is 46 percent. Survival rates vary depending on the stage of diagnosis.
- Women diagnosed at an early stage have a much higher five-year survival rate than those diagnosed at a later stage.
- Fewer than 20 percent of ovarian cancer patients are diagnosed early.
Comparison of cancer survival rates:
- Women diagnosed with breast cancer in 1975 experienced a five-year survival rate of 75.3 percent; today, the American Cancer Society estimates the rate to be 89 percent.
- Women diagnosed with cervical cancer in 1975 experienced a five-year survival rate of 69 percent; today, the American Cancer Society estimates the rate to be 71 percent.
- Women diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 1975 experienced a five-year survival rate of 34.8 percent; today, the American Cancer Society estimates the rate to be 46 percent.
Life.. and whatnot
I know that by the title of this particular post- those of you who actually still read this thing will be expecting it to be long, but it won’t be. I only have one thing to say and it is so pathetic and … well I won’t expand the idea or try and dwell on it because there really isn’t any use in that.
Life is passing me by
April 1, 2010 (Really Long… Really)
***A more appropriate title of this post is Catharsis but I’ll leave it as is- but it is certainly a warning***
Life is definitely circular.
My nephew was born 20 days early and sure did take his sweet time to get here. He was born on April Fool’s day and God help him he will not trust any of his Tio’s one iota on his birthday after age 7! He is healthy and alert. To the day, he came home a month from the date my step- brother passed and the fact did not escape my notice. Here we are a week later- 12 days to go to his due date- and he continues to do well.
I don’t want to say that I have not thought about posting but really it was (and continues to be) a strange bag of emotions… a bag that apparently is deeper than I originally thought.
My husband is leaving Sunday for a month to train for his deployment…again… to Iraq.
We weren’t even here three weeks before he got his orders.
So I sigh and figure that this is what God/fate has handed to me though I don’t know why. Like there is some major lesson that needs to be learned and I am too obtuse to figure it out so I continue to get crap piled on my plate.
I should also mention that as far as my Fibro/CFS is concerned I am on a quick down-ward spiral. My last appointment with the acupuncture was well over a month ago. I have never gone more than 3.5 weeks and have many times had to ask for an appointment before that. My meds are running out and I couldn’t get an appointment here earlier than the 13th- though I call every morning and see if there is a cancellation. Either I call too early or there are people calling before I do- I don’t know but the result is the same. Yesterday, I was up for about six hours of the day… that is 18 hours of sleep… and while today has been a bit better it certainly hasn’t been pain free. My knees hurt, my ankles and feet hurt, my elbows, wrists and fingers hurt. The worst is the headaches because there isn’t anything I can do about those. As the weeks passed I could feel the muscles knot- from my head to my neck into my shoulder blades and lower back. My left shoulder is sitting higher than my right because of the knots. My bra is unbearable and the seat belt of the car just barely so.
But here they don’t cover acupuncture. As a side note: they also don’t cover anything related to fertility outside diagnosis and I have already been handed one of those- infertile. All those months of waiting for my turn at the fertility clinic in San Antonio went straight into the trash since the referral is no longer valid with the move.
Which means (or rather- what I am expecting) that they will just put me on more drugs- something I had cut back on already (happily so) by going through weeks of playing with med combos. All I can really hope for is a great doctor right off the bat though that isn’t my history at all. I am scared that I won’t and will end up in the ER again before I get the right doctor… and my husband won’t be here.
I have come up on a wall here…
not that I don’t have anything to say, but the opposite. I don’t even know where to continue….
I can start with the death of my step-brother I suppose. When I posted I think I was still kind of in shock which is why I posted minimally. Things were hectic here with the moving and unpacking. I was up late a few nights later and watching Celtic Women on PBS. Maeve, the violinist, came out for her first set and it really did hit me like a ton of bricks– reality. My brother played the violin and was very very good at it. He could have made a name for himself in that area, but he chose to be a chef. I’ll get back to that in just a minute. I have always loved the violin and now I think the music holds far more meaning than it did just a little of a month ago. The feelings are odd. On the one hand it doesn’t seem possible that it has been that long and on the other it seems like just yesterday. I think that there may even be a small part of me that is probably still in a kind of denial. I can say though that I didn’t cry.
I mean, how could I? Unless it was for myself.
The amount of pain he was in and the weariness that comes with round after round of treatment then having a procedure which should have saved his life but instead had taken it. How could I not be glad that he wouldn’t be in that pain any more?
This is where I find extraordinary peace when it comes to my step-brother: I saw him accept Christ and was there to see him baptized. I would consider myself a person of faith and it is in faith I believe him to be exactly where he should. The day after my hit of reality I opened a box and there at the top was a picture of us. It was just thrown there into the box but it was the only thing not wrapped in white paper. It was him- straight out of the baptismal pool- with his arm around me. We were standing at the base of the stairs in our church with my friends all crowded around. We used to joke that I was his leaning post because he was soo much taller than I. We are all smiling. It is now a picture I cherish far more than I ever thought it would.
I pray that God will spare me from losing another one of my siblings.
Let me just write a bit more about my little Bro. He was kind. He was shy unless he had an instrument in his hands. He was strong.
You know how it seems like someone is not meant to live long in the world? When I look back I see everything he has accomplished in his 25 years I feel as though perhaps this notion is true in some sense. He accomplished far more than I. We have cut outs of him in the local paper when he was just in elementary school. He made all state in band and was asked to be in several community orchestras. He decided in his Junior year to take a Home Ec class to finish out his schedule for the year and that’s when he fell in absolute love with baking. He was accepted into one of the prominent culinary schools in the US and focused on the pastry side of things. It wasn’t too long after that he got a job doing what he loved, but felt to expand his knowledge base. He became a sous chef and then was offered a position as a head chef at the age of 23 at a small place in St. Louis.
He’s left his mark on the world and it certainly is a good one. I couldn’t be prouder to say, “That’s my Brother”
Moving on to the drama that is boiling under the surface of a particular branch of my family. My dad (the one I don’t speak to at this point) decided the best way to tell me that my brother passed was by text message. I found out how bad he was doing just a few days before from my dad’s0 facebook status. I knew he was fighting the cancer, but had no idea that he was losing and had been for almost a month. I called and left messages for Germy letting him know that I was just praying for him… no need to try and call me back. He had enough on his plate without having to worry about returning phone calls, though he did call.
One thing about my family that I both love and hate (and this comes from almost all sides) is that they are so very willing to candy coat things so I don’t stress out. This is especially true when it comes to hospitalizations. I almost never get a call until the person is out of the hospital or in a position where danger is past. See my Fibro is triggered by stress, and my CFS is triggered by sustained stress. I’ll get back to this in just a bit.
Really… I will. Probably in this post as well– surprise of surprises.
Anyway, so I am pretty sure that I have posted about my very non-relationship that I have with my father since he chose his wife above me. That sounds really selfish I know. Kinda bratty too, right? When I say he chose his wife above me I don’t mean in a way of the stereotypical step-mother/step-daughter relationship. He chose her over me in that true anger was generated in my direction with things that weren’t entirely true. Situations where there were witnesses to my “innocence” and over looked. I am not afraid to say here that I didn’t realize that what I went through was very much like mental abuse and in some cases resulted in some physical altercations. She’ll tell you though that she protected me. She really believes it as well and I think my Dad does too. They are very much revisionists when it comes to their lives and no matter what the rest of the world saw- it is the world that is wrong.
So I have to say that I didn’t call them and I replied with a text as well. I did, however, send my condolences and prayers. I also passed on that my friends (the same ones from the picture) sent along their prayers and condolences as well. So it isn’t as though I ignored them.
At the same time- to spite that I did do those things- all that will matter to them is that I didn’t call her. I do understand that she is a mother who lost her only child. I get that and I paid my respect insofar as that goes. She wasn’t ever a mother though- not beyond the biological- to her son and when he was 16 he asked that she give up any parental rights she still had concerning him. Yes, he could have waited two years and it wouldn’t have mattered but instead he chose to sever that connection with her. And she didn’t fight for him.
I will admit that I only have two sides to what is honestly a three sided story- Germy’s and my fathers wife. It is my Nana (my step-grandmother if we are going to label the legal connection) who raised him and who he chose to legally take on the role that she had filled for 15 years of his life. Its so hard to realize all this happened just 10 years ago. I was a Senior in High School… anyway back to the drama boiling.
I haven’t heard from them at all and I am really very okay with that. I haven’t seen them since September 09 and it was then that I told them if they wanted a relationship the phone did work both ways. I am more than okay with that part of things as well. With them it is always the other person who has to make the effort, but also the other person who gets the blame for what may (or even may not) have happened. The responsibility and the fault never lie with them in their own minds. I am not really looking forward to really running into them anywhere either because I know that the whole situation will get thrown in my face. It is kind of like watching a storm on the plains in Texas: you can see it building but it takes days to come. I guess I’ll deal with that whenever (if ever) it happens.
Let me go back to this whole thing with my family and not telling me things.
I do appreciate the support that they show but at the same time I am frustrated with it all. It is as if they called some sort of pow-wow and made this default course of action.
Days after the death of my step-brother (father’s wife son) I got a text from my sister that said she was taking my Big Daddy (mother’s husband) to the ER. Not too long after that I got a phone call from my mom telling me that things were dicey. I should probably get a bag ready to go.
I should probably provide some back up info here. My Daddy has been diabetic since he was a child and it is something that his whole family deals with and in the past couple of years have had several deaths dealing with direct complications from diabetes. My Daddy had triple by-pass surgery three weeks before I got married and rented a van he could lay in to make it there for me. My Daddy is also in full renal failure and spends close to 7 hours every other day at the dialysis center. We have a perfect match in my baby brother and since we finished the testing to ensure a match it has been a year and a half. I think that they are waiting for him to die. They told him since then that he needs to lose 15lbs before they’ll do the surgery, but they pull out close to 15lbs of fluid every other day. It makes no sense.
Okay. I knew things were bad when I got the text because since my diagnosis they haven’t ever told me of his hospitalization until after he was out and relatively alright. When my mom called I just didn’t know what to do. We’d only been here in Georgia about two or three weeks and I felt like life just slapped me in the face. For almost three years I lived in driving distance and almost three weeks from when I move is when I can’t just up and leave. My Daddy had been admitted to medical ICU and not even my Mama was allowed to see him. My sister got sent to Labor and Delivery shortly after our Daddy’s admittance because the stress was causing contractions and she was only 32 weeks. Mama told me that they had tubed him up because he had pneumonia and was basically drowning in himself. While in ICU he had another heart attack and they had to place another stint.
Then they told us in regards to his transplant that he wasn’t well enough to get it done- yet all the stress on his body is coming from not having that surgery.
There is no way I can put into words how I felt. So completely useless while scared to death that I was about to lose someone else in so short a time without being able to say goodbye. Add into the mix my sister’s contractions being serious enough for admittance and it was four days of a stress level I don’t think I’ve ever experienced.
Three days after being admitted my Daddy was moved to a regular room and my middle brother called me… sibling conference call.
It was decided that should it be necessary our parents were going to move in with us. I know that there comes a time in life when the child takes care of the parent. The Man and I didn’t ever realize the time would come quite so soon. I still think they should move in with us because here we have far more access to various medical centers than they do out there. We have Savannah, Brunswick, Charleston, Atlanta, Jacksonville, and even Augusta. Outside of my oldest brother (who I don’t think is in a relationship) we are the only one’s who won’t have children at the end of this year and this is the only time I have ever seen that as an advantage.
Let me move back to the beginning of this post (though there is so much more to write about). My sister gave birth and joined a club that I doubt highly I will ever be a member of- but I am not going to focus on that.
My nephew has proved already that he will do things as he sees fit without regard for anyone else. He was gaining weight pretty rapidly and then one week after the issue with the contractions he hadn’t grown at all. They told my sister they were setting her an induce date of 13 April.
Then we found out The Man was leaving for training for the whole month of April- which of course means that I can’t leave because we have no one to care for the dogs.
The next week they decided that they would check for lung maturity that Friday and ended up going the steroid route. They told her that they would induce no later than the 31st. So while concerned we believed that there was just enough of a window for me to fly out for a few days so I could be there— except Southwest doesn’t have a terminal in the Savannah Airport and I couldn’t find a price less than 700… which we couldn’t afford.
So I said that I would go out as soon as The Man got back for training- and the day after that we found out that he would be deploying only weeks after his return. So at this rate it will be quite some time before I will be able to meet my nephew and it does make me sad. I need to find a job and can’t stretch that long financially without one. Probably (hoping and praying that nothing happens to contradict) I won’t be able to go out until my baby brother’s child is born- and even then I might not be able to see him/her because of drama with the Baby Mama (another post another time). Anyway that is September and the little man will already be almost six months.
We all know that there are a whole lot of changes in that time.
Anyway, so she was induced the night of the 31st. I swear I did not sleep. My niece was born via emergency c-section and so there was no time for all this. That and I knew that it wasn’t my brother in pain.
This labor was awful and I fear that had I been there physically I may have just gone out of my mind. They had to do her pain meds three times before she felt any relief and I was ready to go through the phone. I mean, after the second time didn’t they think to themselves, “Humm, maybe this isn’t working. Maybe we should try something else”.
I seriously had some major nausea going on… I went through two and a half packs of saltines in just the last three hours. All three of my brothers were the same. Stomach issues from knowing that she was going through pain. Do we all have some strange connection? I dunno but we do usually have the same reactions to things even when miles apart. I like that.
I must say we discovered Skype during this experience. When my sister was admitted we had a test run and it was so much fun. Our niece LOVES that she can see us! The only thing is that she always cries when we leave and the same is apparently true when the web-cam goes off. But now we know about Skype and have set up “appointments” so we will be able to see them on a regular basis! 20 minutes after our nephew was born we were allowed to turn on the cam again and I got to “see” him and they set me down on a tray next to my sister so that I could make sure she was doing well from her own lips. I also got to talk to and see my Big Daddy for the first time since his hospitalization and while he looks gaunt he sounds strong.
There I will end this post: my nephew entered the world, my brother remembered, family crisis (whats the plural for that?). I doubt anyone will read all this but I think that I can’t relieve the stress unless I write about it so this is the route I went.
8:50 PM EST
That’s the time my step brother lost his fight with cancer- a kind of leukemia. In all actually it is more like complications from cancer treatment. At the end of January he had a bone marrow transplant. From what I understand this particular complication is called “”graft vs host” disease. Basically his body didn’t accept the marrow and attacked itself.
I am kind of making a note about it now, but think I will refrain from my own thoughts and feelings about everything for a few days.
Moving days v.2
So this is my first post living in a new house. Its also my first post from my phone, which is something new for me. I am waiting for the cable dude to show. Okay so I am gonna sign off for now
Moving Days
So I was going to title this “day one” but it wouldn’t be technically correct. Right now we are at the Inn and the dogs are getting used to having people moving around- the adjustment a bit loud though.
Anyway, we checked in yesterday because today is going to be busy- but not really. The Merry Maids are going to be cleaning the house this morning. I should be gettin ready to head back to the house here in a minute- so this may be a post that takes me all day to finish. I am hungry but the main building is all the way over on the other side of the complex and I don’t feel like walkin down there. I will grab myself a cup (probably not as I don’t have a debit card at this point and I don’t want to write a check for a cup of coffee).
We have had a semi-good time of it so far. If the Man will quit pouting like a four year old whenever I tell him I need help things would be more than semi-good. Our packers were really nice and efficient. If I didn’t literally tell them not to touch something they literally took everything else. Things I had sorted into boxes already they unpacked and then repacked themselves. Serial numbers noted on both the box and packing list.
Our movers were fast! They started at exactly 8- when I did the walk through. They were done by noon-even with a breakfast break (the Man brought home some breakfast). They were hilarious as well. The driver of the truck- Terry- cracked me up the whole time they were workin. He’s from South Caroline so if you visualize a tall man of dark color from S.C. then I am pretty sure most would be right on the mark. He is picking up another load next week so he can drive a full-load and gave us his number in case we are fortunate enough to get into a house right away. We can call and he’ll do drop off at the door as well. If not then it has to go into storage, which of course means another moving crew.
Tomorrow we have the house inspection (which I am going to have to write more about later- involving mulch, the front yard, and shenanigans). We turn over the key and hopefully get back some of our security deposit, because even just patching the holes that were already present in the house and giving it a good clean AND getting the carpets shampooed put the house in better shape than we got it.
Anyway from there we have to stop by the library (to return books), get the trailer for the Neon (I may or may not remember to relay that particular story in a future place), turn in the cable stuff (because today I need the interweb at the house to work on school work.
Bring On The Rain…
Living A New Life .... 