Finger pointing

Without being able to punish the gunman, we begin to point fingers. Lax gun laws, overwhelmed mental health programs, parents, the media - We need to "nail" somebody. A 20 year old, for reasons we will never know, committed an act so heinous it belies comprehension. I am outraged at the loose way some media outlets are using the terms "autism" and "Aspergers Syndrome." 27 years of teaching children with special needs-these ill-informed references could set back all the strides we have made in bringing students back from the mainstream. The usage of these "labels" serves no purpose and it provides no answers. Many people, myself included, have reported that we went to school with God-in those times mass shootings didn't happen in schools. I did not fact check but I believe that. Teaching a curriculum void of conversing about evolution and creationism, well it gives half the recipe.  
I do not believe in evil. People commit horrendous acts. I do not believe they do so because the devil was within them. Mental illness still carries a stigma. Wasn't it Tom Cruise who hinted people with mental health issues are only weak. Depression is only weak, lazy, unmotivated individuals looking to avoid personal responsibilities. We, you and I, we need to direct a national conversation about both issues in mental health and gun control. Reinstate dodge ball in schools-Little League games should keep score. Not everyone wins. If you want to be best you must work hard. Instead of Standard Based instruction how about human being instruction. Instead of forcing teachers to "get through" the pacing plan, let's allow teachers to teach life! You and I need our own education. We need to know our neighbors. We need to remember how strong children are-so if we just stayed out of the way, the children would figure it out. A box, empty wrapping paper roll, and some popcorn are fantastic tools. In real life when you shoot someone they are injured.  Get off video games, television, or earphones in their ears. We must do the work. We must be heroes to our children! We have to learn, education is power. We must get started, work on your list. 

12/14/2012

We won't forget this day, this school, the name of the town - not forgetting is not the same as working for change - change so we have no more such dates to remember.
I watched a little of the news coverage. Then I turned the channel to Hot in Cleveland. The images, the reality of it, my goodness the utter grief. Hot in Cleveland is so silly it will make you laugh.
As a I was trying to fall asleep I was wishing I was dead. Not because I don't want to be here; I wanted to be there in heaven. I wanted to hold those babies. I wanted to do something.
When I finally drifted off to sleep I dreamt - this was my dream. It was today, Saturday, December 15, 2012. As those in power can do an entire parade had been set up for children. Each child would ride in a car with their favorite celebrity; Dave Winfield, Justin Bieber, Derek Jeter, Magic Johnson, Taylor Swift.  At the Stadium people were excited. I was selected to sit in the stands. Every where you looked there were politicians, sports figures, celebrities...the cast of Glee was performing. President Obama, Michelle and their two girls were there. Billy Crystal in his seat. Mayor Guiliani in his seat. It was a party atmosphere. Everyone was so excited. Then the cars began to pull up. A child alone would see their parent and say; "I want you mommy," "I want you daddy." The cars were not convertible tops with happy children on their way to see Santa at Yankee Stadium.  The cars were white hearse's. We weren't at Yankee Stadium. We were at St. Patrick's Cathedral. Each time I woke up crying. I would feel so crappy because of my excitement-being a part of it all. If I fell asleep again back to the same dream.  As I poured my morning Mountain Dew I cried. I felt guilty. I was excited to be a part of something so horrendous. My mind was in two places. I could not bring it all together. The shooter was a young man - his mother owned these weapons.
27 years I taught children with special needs. There were a few students who had what we called "empty eyes." These were the children whose families we stayed in constant contact with. We called social services, county mental help, private counseling and therapy groups. Some students were 7 or 8 years old. Some of these students were in their teens. Any teacher worth their salt will tell you of the child with the "empty eyes."
Politicians make races for highest test scores student needs be damned. Administrators push teachers to push students because you must swallow this much of material in this amount of time - oh you need it a little slower, sorry. Oh, you need it a little faster - sorry. Don't say God in school. Don't speak of faith. Holiday shows not Christmas Shows. Frosty the Snowman is a Jolly Happy Soul! He is not of faith?
I can't think anymore - I wish I was in heaven to hold those babies.

Haven't Found Me Yet...

So I have been looking for me-the me I was four years ago before everything changed. My wise friend, Shari, says that I need to grieve for what I have lost, what I wish I still had, and for that person I can no longer be. Well, I have cried a billion tears. (seriously, a billion tears) I don't reckon crying is grieving. I do not know exactly what grieving means. In our family we didn't do a lot of grieving. Someone died, we had a wake, funeral, party - then it was on with life, until someone else died. I often wonder if I ever grieved for my birth mother. Can you grieve for someone you never knew? My father did not speak of her. People around town would give me bits and pieces about her. I know she was unhappy, had been unhappy for a long time. I think she died from unhappiness. Hell, what do I know? The me who I was - I was a teacher, I was in love, I became a mother, I played softball, bought a townhouse - I was living the American dream. Turns out the person I was in love with wasn't really in love with me. On her 35th birthday I asked her to marry me. She said no. A smart person would have recognized that as a good time to bail. Ah, but the heart is not always making the smart choice. And there was Emily, my sweet little girl. I never thought I would be a mother, then I was. I loved it! I loved to pick her up from school, listen to her talk about her day, help her with her homework, make supper, get her ready for bed, read to her - children do grow up fast! On Liz's 35th birthday she knew she had no plans on staying with me forever. I sure wish she w0uld have told me. It would have made things a lot easier. Saved a lot of pain, loss, and hurt for everyone. Not a day goes by when I don't miss Emily. Wishing I could hear about her day; she is a freshman in high school. She is smart, kind, she knows about the world - sees beyond being a teenager; she will change the world! So yes, I can't grieve that loss. Even as my eyes well with tears I can't grieve that loss. I believe one day Em will remember how much I love her - one day she will want me in her life. Divorce is ugly when one loses a child. Grieve for the loss of my profession. It sucks! I am desperately trying to find a doctor who can fix me. I want back in the game. I have more to give and more to learn. I miss playing softball. I played team sports since I was 9. Almost made it 40 years. I am having a hard time getting over my anger. From  the moment I was injured at work it has been one clusterfxxx after another. No one did their job right. No one was on my side. Not even my lawyer.  He just wanted to settle. My neck, back, and leg - not a waking moment am I not in pain. Then that nummnut neurosurgeon; "We'll be in and out in 30 minutes." They call it medical practice for a reason - I coded on the table, 6 hours in ICU. They didn't notify my family. I have requested the OR report. No reply. Blinding headaches, falling down, loss of memory, my right eye closes for no reason...this is why I can't grieve. There is no reason for any of this. I paid my dues when I was just a child. I found the love of my life, I became a mother, I had a great job at a wonderful school with the greatest group of people you could ever meet. I don't want to grieve I want to scream! I want to storm into every one of their offices and tell them; "You took away my life." I chuckle, I don't do well with people in authority - Catholic School teaches you fear those in authority, they can send you to hell. Hell, that lesson stuck. The blessings in my life have been plentiful. At times I wonder why God is so good to me. He is not responsible for all of this - he gave us free will. Unfortunately I encountered a bunch of people who choose to better their lives at the expense of others. Yes I know, I do count my blessings - I am grateful for all I have - but don't you just want to punch the smug bastards who toy with our lives like the hat on a Monopoly board, then pull the chance card and you get to go directly to hell.
OK, I have ranted enough. Enough self pity. I truly do not know what my next move will be - but I sure would like to find a corner to stand on, maybe on Beaudry Blvd. hold a sign and sing a jingle. Do you think they would haul me away? Who cares, I have nothing to lose. Perhaps awareness will help someone else. A girl can dream.  Peace out! And be nice to one another -

CHASING ME

I have been lost...five years now I have truly been dust blowing in the wind. Were it not for those who love me I do not know where I would be - I am without my own home, I have over a million dollars in medical bills - I am permanently disabled, unable to receive treatment unless I return to CA. So back to CA I will go - in this process of life - I have been up and down, ran circles around trees, climbed the hills then slid down the other side. It has been laughter and tears. I have felt agony and joy. Each moment left its mark, thus I have learned from my mistakes. In all of it I found I was chasing me - the me who I once was. The me I can no longer be. Thus I grieve the loss of that person. I liked her. She was fun! Always up for an adventure. Ready to take on the world-right all the wrongs. Oh yes she had opinions and she was not afraid to share them. Stubborn as an ox, just as strong. She made a lot of choices for which later she had regret. But she stood by her decisions knowing she did the best she could with the information and tools at hand. She found the love of her life, then she lost her. She became a mother to a beautiful little girl - and guided her, held her, loved her, cheered for her, admired her as that little girl became a young woman - biggest hole in her heart is where her little girl once filled. That me had friends who held her up when she could not stand - loved her when she was really a bitch - stood by her when she was wrong - cheered her success - she was very lucky. Now I am chasing her. Looking for bits and pieces; the good stuff! The good parts of who I was. Trying to be better than I was. Trying to make amends for my wrongs. Rebuild bridges - let go of the past. I have a lot of work to do, Reinventing me. I am sorry for the mistakes. I am sorry for the moments I just gave up. I am sorry I leaned so hard on my friends I broke their backs. I am sorry I was weak and selfish and swam in the self-pity pool. I do not know how I became that me - it is not me. Now I will chase me, and I will catch me. The me who laughs abundantly, loves freely, lives completely. The me you want to be around. I know I am here, that me. I know I will find her - I hope when I do my friends will recognize me, forgive me, love me still! I will work hard to be a better me. A stronger me! A me you would want to be around - a me I would want to be around.
Reckon we don't imagine after 50 years of living we would have to start over - life and its change ups; I am still in the game chasing me -

That quote

Y'all have heard that quote about they came for Jewish people, it was not me so I said nothing...and it goes on and on ending with; when they came for me nobody was left to speak for me. I need to look that up, it's a powerful piece of prose. Over the past years, in our own country so many people have struggled, just trying to survive. It is in times such as these when people start looking out for themselves. The conspirator in me ponders are those in power  dragging their heels. Like the song says; "United we stand divided we fall." is it possible that our House and Senate, or whomever pulls the president's puppet strings, is it possible "they" want to divide us? In splintering us "they" can better control us. In the mandatory crisis management/physical containment class we are mandated to take, (by we I mean those of us who work with populations who may become violent.) in this class they repeatedly tell us when there is a fight identify the aggressor and contain him/her first. So I ask myself, "self, are "they" wanting to dig a canal between the have's and have nots?" Homo-sapiens are after all animals. Pushed into a corner it is flight or fight. When we reach the hanging by a thread place - we will do one or the other. Looking up from the bottom of a sewer, well that is just no place any person should be. I should have been born in another era. Back when folks looked out for one another. Back when people fought for equality. Back to a time when faith, family, and country were what people stood for. In the book, Shock and Awe or The Shock Doctrine; Friedmen, the author hypothesizes the government uses natural disasters, wartime, or 09/11 to pull a bait and switch on the American people. During such crisis, "they" pass laws that reduce our freedom. We willingly go along because we are in shock. It is not until much later we realize we'd been duped. So, by this theory the government is attempting to bypass both the Constitution and The Bill of Rights. "They" are in fact looking to divide us in order to control us. (no wonder I always get the x-ray machine and a TSA note, informing me my baggage had been searched.) In dividing the citizens of the U.S., racism, bigotory, biases come back - front center. For the life of me I don't understand why, but I believe it could be true. Lyrics from another song just popped into my head: "You've got to stand for something or you'll fall for anything." during this recession illegal immigrants have endured much hate. Why those illegals are taking jobs legal citizens could do. Really, then why are the jobs available? You know, we must think about the consequences of our choices. We must think about who we are, who we want to be - When you look in the mirror who do you see? Has the person looking back at you a person you like. During this election time there is so much BS. It seems no one can be trusted.  It is all just so much rhetoric. I don't know what to believe. Who can we trust? Is our government working for us or against us?  Scary isn't it! Who will speak for you?

Nuggets Of Wisdom

Don't back up more than you need to

No matter how hard you work, they won't erect a statue of you out front

Better to ask for forgiveness than ask for permission

Do not ask questions if you don't want to know the answer

When you pass a water fountain - take a drink, so little is free these days

Conduct yourself as if TV cameras were capturing your every move

Go forward, not straight

If someone asks you for a dollar, give it to them

Look people in the eye

If you walk in a room and it goes silent, yes, they were talking about you

Beware of the words you choose, words have power

Is that what your mother would want you to do?

It is not hoarding if yo are going to use it

When you buy a new shirt, give one away

Remember, we are all doing the best we can

Do it now you will feel better about yourself

Do not mistake activity for achievement

Meandering is just fine

This is your journey

Faith, Hope and Charity

Put your oxygen mask on first, before attemting to help others

No matter where you go, there you are

Free Write

In honor of my cliched English Professor we shall start the day with a free write. "Siri, please set the timer to 15 minutes.

"15 minutes and counting."

make a list of things to do today if i have a list i am more likely to complete it though it is really cold out how did i write for fifteen minutes remeber the days of typing your research papers one mistake then you had to start the whole page over or trying to use carbon paper so you could get to copies for the price of one that never worked so wellI should go to the post office mail back the jacket and boots for Zuko the jacket was too small he really is an odd size medium is too small large is too big he is a special dog i think one day he is going to speak words he gets so excited when eileen comes home he dances and dances eileen is Zuko's girlfriend seriously how did we ever get by with a typewriter for my graduation gift mommie bought me new typewriter I don't remember the brand what was a typewriter brand the most common one I mean I can'trecall in high school I took atyping class my long narrow fingers fley across the typewriter at the end of each line you grabbed a lever and pushed it back to the beginning anybody remember those shucks now i will be thinking about that all day well better to think about that than to chase the thoughts racing in my head hard morning to get up and out and darkness comes early by seven it is pitch black when we turn the clocks back it will be dark before six that is crazy can't think can't think what amuses you the hiccups amuse me of course when someone else has them when i have them they are straight out annoying but to watch a grown adult hiccup hiccup hiccup that is funny you know that feeling when your leg falls asleep and you have to move it or slap it so it will wake up that burning in your leg this is what my body feels like in the morning my entire body has fallen asleep while i s;ept then to awaken it i must move and slap it my whole body on fire not such a great feeling oh shucks i forgot to get peanut butter yesterday i did buy eggs though think i will make some egg salad today if I have olives Mr. Johnson was taught typing I think he also taught business math that is the math for people who are not good in math math was the only subjects I didn't earn a regents in therefor it prevented me from earning a HS regents diploma geometry was mine enemy three times i took the class went to summer school had tutoring the last time i took the test my grade wa 64 always believed that teacher whomever graded my paper could have found one point somewhere so i could pass whatever score you earned on your regents you earned as your final grade for that class oh that "crazy" english teacher in high school she did not care for me one bit gave me a failing grade then i scored 98 on the regents English is my first language after all so i failed the class took the regents earned an A but that teacher was one unhappy camper amazing what teachers got away with back in the day having parties providing alcohol and drugs to teenagers hitting belittling demeaning these were the things people did with the shoot lost my train of thought easier and easier to do as you get old though i am not old i am well worn but not old when you are 13 30 seems like a really old person then your 29 and thirty is young turning 30 feels like over night your body changed very bizarre feeling i am in my fiftieth year of life i dont feel old i am just well worn i like that phrase i think i will keep it i could have soup for lunch or left over spaghetti and meatballs don't much care for the meatballs i like the flavor of meat in my food not the actual meat biting into a lot of meats is just wrong except turkey breast from a fresh roasted turkey i like it dry that texture and taste doesn not bother me wonder how many typos i have comitted and no spell check who knows who can understand I am reading a book "Just Fine" it is the story of a trained psychologist oh that fifteen minutes whent fast enjoy the ride

 

 

Creative Writing

My sophomore year of college I took a Creative Writing class. See, I had a dismal 1.00 GPA. If not for being an EOP student I would have been kicked to the curb. The University had to give me a a second chance. My counselor stacked my first semester sophomore year with "easy" classes - Creative Writing, Astronomy, Volleyball, American History, Business Math - If I earned all "A's" I would move my GPA up to a whopping 2.00. This would at least keep me from a lifetime of burger flipping. I looked forward to Creative Writing. Writing has always been my "go to" method for dealing with life's realities. I didn't fancy myself as the next great author, I enjoyed writing. First day of class in walks the catalog version of a college English Professor - speckled gray hair, corduroy jacket (complete with patches on the elbows), corduroy slacks, loafers, a well worn leather messenger bag. Immediately I pictured him sitting at home in a recliner reading great works of writing - or sitting at his desk pecking away at a typewriter, completing his own great work. Then he began to speak. "There are thirty of you in this class. I can't begin to read every writing assignment. You will present your assignments to the class. Your fellow students will grade you. On occasion I will read some pieces of work and give you my grade." Dang I hit the jackpot! If the bulk of grading was coming from classmates it was an easy "A." Fellow students would certainly give one another an "A." That was not the case. Turns out my fellow students took themselves as serious writers. They did not go lightly when it came to evaluating the work of their peers. I was baffled by the cold-hearts that left some students in tears, running out of the room never to be seen again. The class was creative writing. In the process of creatively writing there is not really a place for criticism. You put your thoughts on paper. If you do that well you have met the assignment. Not so much the thought process of these "budding authors." Actually, it was too bad. Writing has been a gift I could open any time I needed to-having all this frustration ripping apart my gift was disheartening. Anywho, the beginning of each class was a fifteen minute "free write." We were to open our black composition notebooks and for fifteen minutes write whatever thoughts were mingling about our heads. If we hit a block we were to write, "block" until it passed. Given that at any given time I have twenty thoughts banging around my head "free writing" was an easy task. Then the professor asked a few students to read their "free write" and the rest of us were to evaluate it. That is really silly. You cannot evaluate a "free write." It is the ramblings of a person. No punctuation and no self-editing. Of course when we found out we might be called on to share our "free write" students did self edit. The assignment was no longer creative. Students wrote hoping to impress our "out of the catalog" English Professor. One essay writing assignment, we had to write a piece comparing ourselves to an inanimate object. We could not name the object. Through our writing the object should become obvious. Each student read their piece in front of the class. The other students guessing what the inanimate object was. When my turn came around, I stood and read my piece. When I finished several classmates correctly identified my inanimate object. It was actually a piece my peers did not rip to shreds. They did not need to - Mr. Cliche English Professor did it for them. In my piece the inanimate object was a tree stump. I compared my self to an old tree stump - (The Giving Tree is one of my favorite books so I reckon my inspiration came from there) In his haughty tone, Mr. Cliche told me I was not old enough to be comparing myself to a tree stump. "You are not old enough to have the wisdom or life experiences that make you worthy of comparison to an old tree stump." Respectfully, I begged to differ. He could not possibly know what my life experiences were. (Back then, you 'member, when I looked 14 until I turned thirty. Yes, there was a time when I looked fourteen. But WOW, when thirty came, overnight I looked Forty!) We argued back and forth a bit. My classmates quickly turned on me. I was not going to back down. I met the guidelines for the assignment and I was not going to let some brown nosers and a frustrated cliche' run me out of my "A." I needed the "A" and besides I was right! Through out the semester, in-class, the voice of my peers was harsh. Outside of class many stopped me to express their true feelings. Fearing the wrath of Professor Cliche, they went with his lead. I do not like hypocrites. If you have an opinion or feeling you should stand by that. Two faced people make me angry. It worked for me anyway, this me against the class. I had felt that way so much of my life - me against the world - it was comfortable. Always good in a crisis I ended up thriving in the battle. Another piece of work we wrote about an experience using only adjectives. Again the class had to identify the experience based only on our writing - I chose an LSD experience. Mind you I have never used LSD or any other such drug. As a post 60's child I read and heard a lot about these "trips." The thought of not having control over my body or mind, along with fear of dying or disappointing Mommie - No, drugs were not my thing. Well neither were they Professor Corduroy's thing. He boisterously expressed his "Just Say No To Drugs" philosophy. (Must have loved President Reagan) The Professor said he would not give a passing grade to a paper about the use of drugs. After class he even had the audacity to pull me aside, offering me places I could go for my "addiction." Oh goodness I laughed. Not in front of him, all the way home I laughed. Ended up he did give me an "A." Actually, I earned that "A." The class was good for me. It was an artificial environment where I could practice "My Voice." Having spent so much of my youth being and seeking silence; that class, forced me to speak. Defending my position to others was good practice for me. I still do "free writing" exercises. It is a practice I used in my own classroom. For students who have learning disabilities writing is the most difficult of assignments. If you don't see words in your head it is difficult to write. Free writing does not require correct spelling, punctuation, or grammar. If students wrote the letter "X" ten times that was fine. As students began to express thoughts they also began to find their voice. At first no student would volunteer to read. Given time, one by one, each student wanted to read their free write. Their page might be blank but their souls had much to share. Students would stand up and read a three minute piece of prose off a blank piece of paper. Eventually, the pages were not blank. Students put their thoughts on paper. The practice definitely helped each student develop writing skills. Oh Professor Smoking a Pipe in your patched elbowed corduroy jacket - your teaching has helped hundreds of students with learning disabilities become tree stumps or take LSD trips. You should be proud!

Rambling

Wet Sleeves...

As summer turns to fall, the temperature is a bit low. After 20 years in Cali I am a sissy. Hence the need for long sleeves. There is a problem I have with long sleeves. When I am washing dishes, the sleeves slip down my arm. I try to slide them back up by rubbing my arm across my side, I use my chin, my nose, my forehead. Without fail I become frustrated and there goes my left hand pushing up the right sleeve - Now I am irritated, my right sleeve has a wet spot - I do not like how it feels. Finally I stop washing, dry my hands and properly roll up my sleeves or take of the long sleeved shirt. (cause you know I have on another layer, it is cold) As I finish dishwashing my mind is chastizing me for having not properly rolled up my sleeves before I began. I don't know why I do such things - then what happens? You know, it has happened to you; the dish that slipped out of your hand splashing water onto the front of the sink and you lean against the sink, what happens? The front of your shirt is wet. Ucky feeling. What is worst? Wooden spoons. Putting your hand into the water and touching a wet wooden spoon. Why do we still have wooden spoons. We don't use two rocks to make fire anymore, can't we get rid of wooden spoons. Goodness they give me the heebie jeebies! (is that really a word? I spelled it phonetically, maybe jeebies should start with a "g" geebies. geebies looks more correct)Anyway, I believe all wooden utensils, or utensils with wooden handles should be thrown away. Why can't popsicles have plastic handles.  I love popsicles! I don't like wooden handles. It is a difficult task eating a popsicle ensuring that no part of the stick touch your mouth or your hand - they use to make popsicles with plastic handles. Remember? The handles were the same color as the popsicle and crisscrossed. Oh, and my goodness I could never buy frozen lemonade at Dodger Stadium or Thrifty ice cream - Why? You know why-that stinking wooden whatchamacallit they gave you to eat it with. No way! I will tell the Dr. you may not put that tongue depressor in my mouth. My tongue will not be happy and I will toss my cookies or knock you upside your head. They don't believe you...the first time - they don't try it a second time. We are weird us human beings - nails on a chalkboard, doesn't bother me - the hum of energy saving light bulbs will make me spin. What for one is humorous for another, tortorous. Go to a garage sale to buy "stuff" someone else just wants gone, even for a quarter. Eileen, Frank, and I went to a garage sale. Everything was so cool - we were literally buying things we did not know what they were but they only cost fifty cents - we'll figure out what to do with them later. Or when you come to our garage sale you might buy them for a dollar! Can anyone else feel the ridge in their socks? Or the wrinkles in their sheets? Yes, we homo sapiens are odd ducks. Isn't it grand? 'Cause once you know someone's weak spot, well you have to hit it. Posting victory pictures because your team beat mine - popping out from around the corner shouting "boo", how silly is that - yet it is funny every time. And the laughter from our silliness is wonderful laughter - laughing like a little kid. Elton had it right..."looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid, I'm still standing." When we laugh looking like a little kid we produce endurance so we are true survivors. Laugh like little kids!

And So It Was

Five years ago at 8:03 am I was tossed into a blender - the system, doctors, lawyers, people, they have all had a turn pushing the buttons.  Blend, chop, puree, mince, dice...I am not the same person & my life is way different. Life changes in the blink of an eye. I didn't know, of course we never do, I didn't know a 9 year old boy striking my right leg would make me a plastic figurine in a snow globe. Nor did I know that one eye blink was to change everything. Growing up with "secrets" you become a chameleon - you do anything to remain unnoticed. You are certain that people can see the "ugly" in you. Discovery of the "ugly" would make you a social outcast. Blending into the background is a 24 hour a day job - but you do it. You have to do it. Each of us choose right or left, up or down, early or late; our choices are made as best we can based on the knowledge and ability we posses. Sitting on the outside others may empathize, sympathize, judge, or criticize-if a "secret" gets out, well the people in your life will empathize, sympathize, judge, or criticize. They will also say they understand. It is not possible to understand. Life is truly an "until you walk a mile in my shoes" kind of thing. How many times have you cried because someone you love is hurt? Hundreds, thousands - since becoming the plastic figurine in that snow globe- the love, support, & kindness from my family and friends has been humbling. I don't know what I would have done without love. When someone hit the liquefy button on the blender - someone loved me through the spin. None of us make it anywhere without love. Now I felt guilt. Each time I need something I feel guilty - now I feel my existence is a burden. People worrying about me, doing things for me, supporting me - heck sometimes holding me up completely, for these acts of kindness I feel I am a burden. Logically I know this is not the truth, emotionally, well it is just how I feel. Don't reckon I know what to do to change that. At 49 years old reinventing oneself is a bit of a challenge. One foot in front of the other and remember to breathe. Accept the gifts. When the globe is shook close your eyes and hold on tight. My addiction to pain medicine is predicated upon my desire not to feel pain. That isn't important. Addiction is addiction and very few addictions are healthy. Losing independence, losing your career, losing your family, well losing sucks. Rebuilding will require a lot of hard work - Yup, just in the blink of an eye, that is all it takes. I am the one who takes care of other people. I am the gardener, correction, I was the one who took care of others - I was the gardener. Who I am now, I'll get back to you when the shiny silver snow flakes settle to the bottom of this snow globe.

Will We Ever Learn?

I do not know at what point the "clapper" claps on and we get It. I can tell you I have been at "places" in my life; places-points when I looked around me smiled and thought; hey I made it. You know the moments. You have felt them. You have strutted just a little bit more than usual. And those moments have felt so good we believed in their infinity! Righteously, they do go on forever...we just lose our place. Hit a low point. Some days we forget we are just fabulous! We put our selves on the wrong side of ourselves and life gets twisted and we hit the pavement - thunk! How often do we just stay down? It's easier. Your feeling like "I just want to stay down here . Let someone else be responsible. Let someone else carry the load. I am going to lie here." How long do you stay there? How long? Ah we get up. For the people who don't get up, shame on you! You quit? You cast aside the gift of sunflowers, doggie kisses, the smell of a babies head? You walked out on us. You suck! Lie down for the minute or two it gets better! I didn't say easy I said better!

No, I don't know what "better" looks like. I know how it feels. It feels like a slice of Chicago Style, in Little Italy, San Francisco. It feels like the chills seeing Trish on GLEE! It feels like my arms aching to hold all my babies. It feels like a summer cottage worth more than any million dollar lodge! Right now though-I have hit hard. I will get up...this is me, I always get up! I am tired. Too many people to worry about. Sitting here in this hospital bed wondering what I am doing to piss off the floor staff? How can I fix it? We are all on this big teeter-totter....what you need on one side-what you can give on the other--How are we going to keep that piece of wood level? Alright people, we need a plan here. We need to figure this out! 

It Is Time!

Chuckling to myself as the clock strikes exactly 3:00 am on Thursday September 13, 2012. Those are questions doctors will ask me in the morning. By days end I will be a big ball of frustration, guilt, anger, and forgiveness. I must forgive myself for the anger - no one at the hospital wants my life miserable; but I have played this role before...right down to the hospital is so full we only have one sort of room on maternity. Great place for mommies & babies. When you have pain on this floor they offer Tylenol. The child/mother bonding nurse-nice young lady she admits to not knowing about Percocet, Valium, Zoloft...what are these for? Innocently she asks because she really does want to help. I know the props, the prep, the lines...I know the darn ending - complicated many factors to be considered - a lot of pieces hard to put together...contact your primary---don't have one because no one I have contacted is taking new patients...or my history is a bit complicated---urgent care says get a Rheumotologist in the greater northern NY area there is one Rheumotologist. We did not hit it off, he doesn't believe he has room for me right now ---------- only rheumy for counties around & I scared him off because he felt my manner was"mean" are we in kindergarten?No I. Don't know, but it is time! There must be one doctor on this continent with curiosity of a cat! You know the one who took things apart just to see what makes it tick?  Why won't they just give me the meds pharmaceutical companies made so I would not have to suffer? That is a no brainier! I do not know how I will ever repay the gifts of family and friends - I am carrying the Catholic, Jewish, & Protestant guilt, it has just been too long, too much, too many have sacrifed for me & it is time for me to cowgirl up I believe it is time I find a little room for Zuko & I. I can't do it anymore. Spend so much time feeling guilty an worrying how my health is taking away from the people I love most - and they want to...I am so blessed cause these people, I don't know what they see in me-don't get me wrong I am glad they see it -think my dad would trip over to BTV if he heard I was in hospital. Finally that really doesn't matter; still I am not a misery doesn't love company. With the Internet we are more connected than ever. Zuko & I will find the place we are suppose to be; we will be safe-live on the cheap would manage.  That is the next step on this life's ladder and up it I must travel  its cool though I'll keep my feet back under me and away we'll go. 4:00am now - morning blood draws from Drs. Office orders...shucks none there for me, makes for a confusing morning. I sure hope we make it home in time to watch GLEE, Trish is going to be on it-isn't that great?!!!!!! The times have turned & we have all been here & there - those moments in time y'all with share with next crew @ pre-school, &Mommie & me movies, and bring your Dad to work, and the Emmy, Golden Globe People's Choice. How sweet we came around that corner together! Thanks for bringing me on for the ride. 

Night 5

So this is night 5 of minimal sleep. One or two hours a night - not sure what is preventing me from sleeping. A lot of it is pain - I fall asleep then pain wakes me, what a lousy alarm clock. I have been able to catch up on some Netflix movies. We do the best we can...it isn't always enough, it is what it is. Each of us moving our pile of rocks from one side of the road to the other. Some folks accomplish this task every day while others are only able to move one or two rocks...either way is fine. As long as you try, as long as you do the best you can-that is all you can do. Love is a fickle partner. Without love we are lost. With love we are both filled up and emptied out...we do not know which lot is ours so we keep on moving. Movement is life (from that movie with George Clooney) Keep moving and you are still in the game. Do not mistake activity for achievement - some people put their life in neutral then give it a lot of gas, only spinning their tires - no movement, a lot of noise and activity - no achievement. At the end of the day I ask myself; "Lisa did you do your best today?" Some days the answer is yes. Some days the answer is no. Either way that day is emptied out so I throw it away and start moving those rocks. In the end, when the meter of our life has run out of time and we've no more quarters what is it we want to be remembered for? I imagine famous people have a difficult time deciding if they want  fame to be their legacy or their life to speak for itself. Either way, our scars become visible - whatever we attempted to hide when we had sight, we get to see all of it. Reckon everyone who knows us sees those scars. This is why I see no need to play "make believe." I am who I am, scars and all. My hands calloused from my daily rock moving. My soul grateful I had the day. My heart humbled because at least once a day, someone has given me laughter, love, faith, hope-either way the meter for that day has expired...moving on. The Serenity Prayer, where does that come from; "the courage to change the things I can." That is the tough part. Finding the courage to make change in our life (without the change we have no coins for the next days meter." That is funny. As Frankie said; "Regrets, I've had a few." Yup, we all have a few. Regrets are not failures. This is a tough distinction! Probably the majority of us are tough critics. It is not regrets which add rocks to our daily pile-it is when we have not tried our best. How many cliches are there about it isn't the times we fall that count, it is the times we get up. Sometimes such simplistic ideology makes me want to puke. Ah the cynic in me...of course there are more days when holding on to simplistic ideology is a gift. KISS-keep it simple stupid. Another good idea often lost somewhere between the white lines. Are there easy days? I don't know. Rock moving is hard work. Simple days, days when we have only to focus on the rocks. Life is difficult, that is not a bad thing - it is what it is, why do we fight so hard. We want the simple days, not because we are weak or lazy. Simple is good. It is better not to perseverate on the rocks we didn't move. It is better to keep our focus on the rocks we did move and marvel at our strength! It would be cool if we could get a mulligan, we can't. We get the day and the rocks - maybe we do nothing with any of it. Perhaps we leave our pile, go work with someone else. There is no correct answer. Just keep some change in your pocket so you can feed the meter-maybe even feed someone else's meter. If you come across the instruction manual could you post it online or mail a jazillion of them to the jazillion people on this planet. Would we then hit the mark with every arrow we shot...I don't think so. Who reads instruction manuals anyway? We look at the picture on box and have at it. More fun that way - ultimately, there is one screw, washer, hook, thing a majig left over. I figure the manufacturer was being kind and put an extra in the box. You should see the coffee cans I have with all those "extra" pieces. I can't throw them away, one never knows when a screw will disappear (insert your "screw loose" joke here) Well the light of day is upon me, best get to moving my rocks or maybe i will just rest my eyes for a few minutes - Peace Out!

August 16, 2012

This was my yesterday...After waiting nearly 3 months for an appointment with the only rheumotologist Wanda picked me up and off we headed to Saranac Lake. The Dr.'s nurse spent approximately 1 hour and 45 minutes logging my medical history and medicines into the computer - before she left to let the Dr. know I was ready to be seen she leaned close my ear and whispered: "Go to Burlington and find a Dr. there." Remember, I waited almost three months to see the rheumotologist in Saranac Lake - I politely smiled & nodded. Then he walked in, THE SPECIALIST DOCTOR! He inquired as to why I was seeking his expertise,(did I mention he is a specialist?) Looking at the notes the nurse had taken, looking at the bag'opills I take he asked me why I was there?

"Well," I responded,"I am going to spend more time in NY so I will need an established relationship with a rheumotologist." He asked me who my primary care Dr. was? I explained the difficulties in finding a primary care Dr in the Malone area...there are 4 doctors from which I have to choose. 2 of them are not accepting new patients, the other  2 doctors felt my medical history was too complicated and they did not wish to interview me for the position of patient in their practice. Unfortunately, I have heard that phrase uttered many times since arriving in NY. It is my humble opinion that this particular "specialist" failed or missed the bedside manner class because he then tells me if I did not tell the Dr's. about my medical history one of them would accept me as a patient!! I might be wrong, however, isn't it mostly sick people with medical needs & histories whom seek medical care? By the way - those angels God sends down here to look after me, Wanda is one of those angels. Bottom line with the specialist - he does not know shingles, in adults, is caused by the herpes's virus, he does not know about Bynlesta, the first drug in a coon's age developed for individuals with SLE, seriously I mean it! Here is  a new treatment or SLE & the specialist does not know about it. I showed him the rash on my midsection, which I typically get prior to a flare up - he told me it wasn't  a pre-flare rash.  I told him about my recent bout with extremely high blood pressure - that is not his speciality, he didn't want to hear it. When we began to discuss the family tree I told him my mother died moments after  I was born therefor I could not provide any information about the maternal side of the family trees' health. He inquired as to the cause of her death, "I mean other than having you." Oh yes he did!

He then began asking the checklist questions, the form I had already filled out and his nurse had inputted the data into the computer from which he was reading - "Any history of heart disease in your family?" "Yes" I replied "My paternal Aunt and Grandfather had medical histories concerning their hearts." Want to know what he said? Come on you know what he said - "What about on your Mother's side?" Oh yes he did! I did not notice noise cancelling ear phones in his ears, I sure did want to ask him if he even had a heart. After about the third question he told me, I really just want you to tell me yes or no, I don't need to know the history behind the answers...this was the family history questionnaire, which Eileen had already filled out, the family history questionnaire I had just spent almost 2 hours going over with his nurse-just answer yes or no.

But wait it gets better! He orders a bundle of blood tests, something I expected - I asked him why he was doing a thyroid function test; well he said because your the area around your thyroid is tender and swollen. I don't suppose he could connect the dot between synthroid as one of my medications with the fact I had a thyroid disorder - in this condescending tone he said; "you could have told me you had a thyroid condition." In my head I'm thinking I assumed a specialist can read-silly mean...reading is not for "specialist"

He ordered an xray of my right hip. Fool I am I asked him why. Apparently, upon his physical examination of me, when he applied pressure to nerve pockets around my right hip I flinched. I have SLE and fibromyalgia, all my nerve pockets are sensitive (even the pockets in my favorite pair of pants) Again, fool that I am I voiced an obvious medical fact...Xrays reveal nothing relating to nerves, I mean it, xrays reveal nothing relating to nerves!

Off to lab where they draw a quart of oil, and a pint of urine - then to the xray machine which will provide no medical information about the nerves in my right hip.  Finished with xray, get dressed - Passed out, fell out - the young woman who had taken my xrays caught me, thank goodness. Then it is off to the ER - I was fine, my BP is high - So we now know the secret for prompt, efficient, and timely discharge from an ER...be sick. While in the ER they brought me a plate of food, a hospital administrator kindly cut the chicken for me.

You never saw a hospital want a patient out of their ER faster than Saranac General Hospital wanted me out of the country.

It was some day-yesterday was one for the great stories to tell which no one will believe. Unbelievable!

Cages

Its all about the cages. Society picks labels, boxes, and cages - we even choose, at times to live in the cages others put out there for us. Zuko, he had a cage, we had to put a lock on it because he could get out by himself. So I'm thinking if Zuko can figure out how to get out of the cage we all can. Life is too short, which is a boring cliche', yet none the less true. My 83 year old father says life is too short - 83 years a good long life - still it is too short. 48 years & 17 days, well that is way too short.
We really must find a way to break out of these self imposed, or society imposed, or family imposed, or expectation imposed cages! At present my cage is medically imposed - but the cage is in the garage. I refuse it. Past few days I have! paid a price for refusing the cage.  Good for me! Today is the last day of Harness Racing.  Reckon the last time I will stand next to my Dad and watch the horses through turn 1 & 2, then sprinting down the backstretch. I have been in bed the past couple of days. Got out of that cage and really tore up the town! I cant miss this day.  It is going to rain, Daddy will know what horses are mudders - he picks the winners.  I pick the horses with the nice names...or the horse Mr. Smith is driving - he seldom loses. If he loses the first heat, he won't lose the second heat, guaranteed - well, unless his horse breaks.
Yes I will get down to the fairgrounds today, stand next to my father and marvel at how far we have come...and how far we need to go - though I have come to realize this is as far as he can go. He loves me in the way he can. That is it!
Oh, and the other day I saw the "bastard" he was walking towards me and I towards him - there was a brief moment of eye contact, the question hung in the space between us "Are you going to speak?" Hell no, I said that with my eyes - we passed without a glance. He sells insurance and financial planning things - I want to take out a full page ad in the local paper telling people not to buy anything from this rapist, child molester, thief of innonence! Could I be sued for slander. I am telling the truth. Paper probably wouldn't print it anyway, oh but a great cage to tear to shreds, wouldn't it be.
The elephant in the blog - my medical cage sucks! I am sorry, I am no longer able to just smile and say "fine." I am going to be fine! I am going to do everything on my "Bucket List", it is a mighty long list! Shari, I am coming to Hawaii! However, I have to vent more. Get some of this frustration out. I do that through writing - don't take it all serious...and do not feel sympathy for me! There are many people with far heavier crosses than mine. I don't know, maybe a peek inside the window of a spirited woman who happens to have this blasted medical cage, well who knows, maybe it will help someone else or provide a bit of insight. If nothing else, it will help me lighten my load - and it is my blog! I don't mean that. I don't want to burden anyone, don't you go worrying about me...God made one tough cookie here...oooooh, I have Grandma's Peanut Butter cookies in the kitchen, mmmmmmm!
Had fried dough last night, not a good night time food - but man it tasted good.  Frenchy's Fried Dough, its delicious - absolutely bad or you, but so good for you - thats another cage - the whole eat this don't eat that, your too fat, your too thin (yes you can be too thin) this causes cancer, this causes your hair to fall out, this will help you live longer...PLEASE!!!! Moderation, fried dough I eat once a year, with a couple hot sausage from JO JO's (man are they good) you know what, if that is going to kill me, the joke is on those Drs. at Cedars! Ha, that would be funny! The whole weight cage and food cage, it is all propaganda put out by prescription drug companies so we get more prescription drugs.  Insurance companies and Prescription drug companies, they run our country.  It is not the President, or Congress - nope, Drug & Insurance companies decide what happens - oh and China because they pretty much own us - Who has the most Olympic Medals? Coincedence? I think not!
Until then - Peace Out

Therapy

I think I was around 9 years old when I began writing my thoughts. Not coincedetally, this was also when I began to comprehend I was "different." Inside, how I felt, that was different - I did not have a word for it, nor any understanding of it - but I felt it. Many of these "journals" I have been able to hold on to.  When I go back to look at some of the things I wrote I laugh my butt off. When we are young everything is so serious. Always and Never cross our lips a hundred times - only with experience can we begin to comprehend few things are always or never. Writing has been a great source of comfort for me. It has helped me through many a difficult time. It has made me laugh. It has provided insight into many of the twists and turns of my life. Writing has been a means of expressing my feelings toward others, and hopefully, been a gift to others. It has not always been pretty and my grammar is poor.  I use a lot of - marks because I don't really know what punctuation mark should go where. And yes, writing is, for me a means of letting out feelings which scare me, or confuse me, or anger me. Through my 48 years & 18 days of life putting my thoughts and feelings on paper, well, it normally makes me feel better. Purging I reckon - put it down, get it out & its done.
Yes, I am going through a particularly difficult time right now.  4 years of a difficult time - ever since that child fell into my leg, it seems my life has just been a slippery slope in the wrong direction. Human as we all are I get frustrated and angry. As much as I would like to be a brave soldier and not complain - sometimes we all need to let it out. When I started writing this blog I did so for all the reasons I write, and I thought it would be cool to share some of my silly thoughts and foolish rants. And it has been. Even though a post from the other day upset folks it was a blessing - because it reminded me how much I am loved! Isn't it amazing? Losing my mother at birth and yet I have the most amazing family anyone could ever ask for? This is also my core truth - for every cross I bore I never carried it alone. Every single moment of my life, God has blessed me with people whom loved me without condition, expectation...just love! It is so humbling knowing how much I am loved - with my flaws, foibles, idiosyncricies - even these stupid red puffy cheecks, (goodness they bother me) I am loved.
Yes, right now is a difficult time for me. After 20 years I left CA. The person I was in love with fell out of love with me. My little girl Emily, she is growing up & I am not there. I came home because that is where you go when the chips are down and you need others to help you stand up - since I arrived, that is exactly what I have received - In Texas with my Poopy Sister & here in Malone. Yup I cry, and darn I hurt. It is not over though! I don't quit. Asking others for help is not my best skill, I am getting better. I know whomever I ask, they would drop everything and be right here for me. Isn't that amazing? It is, really, trust me...it is!
No, I can't always put on a smile and march on bravely. Right now, there is an ice pick piercing my right temple, forcing my right eye closed, and causing a pain like you wouldn't believe - I will go lie down now. When I wake the pain will be gone. I miss not being at the fair today. I love the fair. Pushed myself too much this week. Reckon I wanted one week of being "normal." I have to change my perception of normal. It is time for reflection, introspection, and a reality check - this is why I write. Please do not be alarmed. I share because I know the people who read what I write, all 4 of you, I know you care - writing helps me let things out or express feelings I can't speak. Fear not, this young broad, has a lot of living to do. Today I need to rest - but tomorrow is a new day, I will fill it with harness racing, hot sausage, fried dough, walk around ice cream sundaes, friends, laughter, maybe even a Tilt a Whirl ride. (maybe the spinning of the ride will balance the spinning in my head) Speaking of which I need to go put mine back on its pillow.
Peace out my Peeps - keep on keeping on, I will & so must you!
And would somebody have a strawberry daquiri for me? I love those drinks. Suppose I could get a virgin one. We use to order those at the Lakesider Restuarant when we ate there with Chickie - Now its a camp, Monettes bought it and made it a camp.

Core Truth - read at your own risk

1. Purple is my new favorite color!

Beyond here I have to do some mental housekeeping. I have not written in a long time - does anyone else have a running conversation in their head they mean to write down, just never get around to it? All my health woes are well documented...blah, blah, blah, Lupus sucks! I can feel pain in my eyelashes then someone says how healthy I look.FYI-that is the medicine giving a bright red fat face. I do not like a fat red face! When a person asks; "How are you feeling?" it is nice, polite, social - can I scream? "My bones are on fire, my head is going to explode, everyday I notice my eyesight lessening, and if I had 10 Percocet i would take 5 !" and that is another thing...NY laws regarding prescription pain meds are barbaric. I bet inmates have an easier time getting pain meds than regular folk. Am I addicted to pain med? Uh yeah, because i am opposed to pain! It is a quality of life issue-no I don't want to be addicted to anything, but I am. I have SLE 20 years, cuts in my brain leaking brain fluid, white matter in my brain which is inoperable cause I coded the last time & Dr. Brainiac says I won't survive another operation. I have vasculitis, fibromyalgia, CNS Lupus, hypo thyroid disease, secondary Cushing disease 

high blood pressure (like 135/107) injured at work there is a nerve impinged between my tib/fib head joint, C4 & C5 are    compressed and impinging another nerve, T3 was moved right of my spinal column, T2 slid to the right. That'sthe big stuff...do I require medicine to help ease my pain? Heck ya! Does this make me an addict? Do I care? With the appropriate regimen of medicines I get to participate in life-without them I am a spectator. Those of you who know me, know I like to participate-Tiddlywinks, cards, maybe even swing a golf club again. This menagerie of illnesses forced me to retire on disability...50% of my previous income & Medicaid. I know I am 48'years & 20 days, this is not where I ever thought I would be. My home is the kindness of those who love me or i would be homeless...just Zuko & I living in a pickup! Good country song in there somewhere.  I don't have any sense  taste, brain Dr. Took that. The upper quadrant of peripheral vision in my right eye is gone Sometimes i fall down. Standing one moment, 

 

next thing I know Zuko is licking my face. When I was staying at Poopy's I apparently slept for several days-we affectionetly called them "coma sleeps." my Jessica Rosemis 10, she need not watch Aunt Lee Lee "coma sleep."  i write all of this as background to th core raw...i do not live more than any 5 minute span when either the physical pain hits or the emotional reality hits. I cry myself to sleep. (which does not help under eye bags or dark circles) I avoid mirrors for i find the red bloated cheeks hideous! They are, they aren't healthy robust cheeks they are damaged forever so I don't look in mirrors. I am fat. For my comfort I am fat, an athlete all my life reduced to a comfy chair and blanket. Have you any idea how much that sucks? I know, I know, I am luckier than so many others...we all have our cross to bear-I am so tired! If I could take away a child's cancer or a soldier's PTSD'i would. Right now, here tonight, i am dishing my core truth...I believe I should be like a wounded animal & go off alone for this leg of my journey. No matter how much someone wants to see you through, that is too darn hard & too much to ask. And sometimes what others believe you should do is not whatmy

I Was Thinking

Now I Lay me down to sleep I pray the Lord my soul to keep, and if I die before I wake...SCREECH - wait a minute! This is a child's bedtime prayer? 5 year olds are suppose to kneel by their beds & say "if I die before I wake." What is wrong with this picture? No wonder millions of people have sleep disorders. Should a 5 year old think about dying right before bed or anytime for that matter? I picture a little girl lying in bed, forcing her eyes to remain open for fear she will die should she fall asleep! How did such a prayer even come to pass - and why would we teach it to children? Goodness, this is just wrong. Don't all children go to heaven? If I watch CSPAN am I a nerd? Does this mean I am old? Is there something wrong with watching CSPAN? When you get into it, it is quite fascinating - and oft times frustrating. You'd be amazed at how many Senators don't show up for votes. Some senators rattle on for hours about obscure bills they would like to get passed. Did you know there is a sub-committe studyiIng whether or not people want clean drinking water? Duh, "No thank you, I would like dirty water to drink." that Obamacare health plan - it is for healthy people. Don't get sick or become old - if you do you are screwed. Sure they can't deny you health insurance if you have a pre-existing condition...the catch - Drs. don't have to accept you. So you can have health insurance, good luck finding a Dr. Who will treat you. The Senator from Idaho wants the Federal Government to subsidize potato priced. Shocking isn't it? The Senator from NC would like to see less regulations for growing & selling tobacco. Last week the Senator from RI rattled on about taxing tourist more than residents of the state. Can you guess the #1 industry in RI? Everyone has an agenda. A bill regarding updating aquatic reservoirs also has a ride-along bill to enforce the cost of parking meters in Nevada. Go figure. And what is this "Wait for the other shoe to drop?" Do shoes drop? The stock market drops, rain drops, Walmart has price drops...but shoes? Does the first shoe dropping have no significance? Why is that? And how do I know which shoe is " the other shoe?" should I be alarmed when the "first" shoe drops? Is the 1st shoe different from the "other" shoe? Do you know how to tell them apart? What kind of shoe is it? Tennis shoe, running shoe, high heels? If its a boot does that count? What of sandals or flip flops? Where does the shoe come from? It is a very odd expression. Baseball players catch " A can of corn." Why? There is no corn on a baseball diamond. The expression means the ball is easy to catch-would a can of corn hit at 90 MPH be easy to catch? I think not! That would hurt, & the can would bust. Corn would be every where. Catching a box of rice would be easier-a can of corn/how silly is that! Yesterday I bought a moped. 50CC Frank says his weed whacker has a bigger motor. Reckon an expert bike rider could beat me in a 50 yard dash. No matter, I am not wanting to go fast-I can go as slow as I please...isn't that beautiful? I need to make a basket on the back for Zuko. What a hoot. Now I will be the crazy hair cat lady with a dog on a moped. Excellent fodder for the gossip hungry porch sitters. Last week someone asked Eileen if I was her mother. Ouch! That hurts. We are the same age. Her mother for goodness sakes-I would Definetely take that person off my Christmas card list if I had a Christmas card list! Perhaps I will make a Christmas card list just to take this person off of it. Is it me or is the general population just lost their manners? What happened to common courtesy? When did we stop respecting our elders? Is it now wrong to address people as "sir" or "mam?" However, people who still write checks need a checkout isle of their own. Stores don't even keep the check. They scan it then the buyer has to sign on that gray pad & press enter and the money is automatically taken from your account then they give you back the check you just wrote. It takes too long! Yes, check writers need their own checout lane. Woke up @ 2:31 am with an ice pick headache its 6:20 now. Reckon I will try to go to sleep. Good morning-night John Boy.

It's the change-up

Everyone must contact the members of the senate, congress, all the way to the president if need be! They wasted millions of taxpayer dollars investigating the use of steroids in baseball - overlapping MLB's own investigation...while our soldiers died on foreign soil & the rate of unemployment skyrocketed - they were more interested in whether Jose Canseco injected fellow players in the backside! It was embarrassing. This though, this is important! See we have frequently heard the expression, "sometimes life throws you a curve ball." However, coming out of the pitcher's hand, the curve ball has a distinct spin. With practice and experience a batter can identify the spin on the ball and not swing. If the pitcher throws it for a strike, you tip your cap. If he misses you have gained the advantage. Now you sit "dead red!" A fastball is a coming! However, the change-up, leaves the pitchers hand looking like a cookie. A fastball headed right for your sweet spot. You twist your back toe just a little deeper into the dirt - Oh yeah, this baby is all yours! Thus you swing, and think "WOW" the ball was so sweet coming off my bat I didn't even feel it. Then just as you begin looking up, looking for your "home run" you hear the ball THUD into the catchers mitt! There you stand, feeling so foolish, the change up messed you up. Now when the pitcher throws his fastball, you swing late - THUD again. Might as well head back to the bench! It is life's change ups that leave us befuddled. What we believed we saw did not jive at all with reality...so there we stand having taken our best cut only to strike out. Experience teaches us, that yes life can throw us curve balls - it also teaches us to recognize the rotation, or the next turn in the road, even when to just let it go. Can't hit the darn thing so just let it go! Most of us have a difficult time letting things go. It erodes our sense of control. It engages our minds in doubt and suspicion. When we don't let the curve ball go, we our bound to hit and miss. Identifying the spin of all things & those who encompass our lives becomes an adaptive, adjusting, & moving on, which we learn everyday. When we believe what we see, the baseball, ergo life - when we believe we have whittled away at many of our weak spots - this is when life throws the change up! Just as we have begun to amass some confidence and understanding regarding the people in our lives, just when we gain a bit of confidence in our ability to see people and events with a clear filter...the dreaded change up comes at us, leaving us feeling naked & most vulnerable in front of 50,000 people. It is when we truly believe we know someone, when we think we might have a few things figured out - there is never a good time for life's "change up." With one swing, everything we believed as reality, well, it gets foggy. Back to T'ball and training wheels. You may see the change up coming - yet it so appears a fastball, a much easier pitch to hit, imagine our utter dismay at failure yet again. When we miss the change up we doubt everything we have ever thought as truth. Literally, we must reevaluate a Our relationships, a job choice, even the cereal we bought. Doubts become larger, we become smaller. For if we learned as we lived we would not be so easily fooled or duped! Not to mention most of us have a difficult time with change. Consistency and structure, this serves best. You know your friends, your family, your work, perhaps, you even know your "calling." The "change up," when life throws us a change up it can drop us to our knees. If you ever watch baseball you have heard the expression, "corkscrewed." This is when the batter has dug that back foot in so deep...when he believes he can trust his knowledge and experience, when he truly feels confident and peaceful..."THUD" into the catcher's mitt goes the ball & in that single moment everything we thought we knew we now must question. Back to square one! This is why we must correct the metaphor (it is a metaphor isn't it?)Why we should notify news outlets and computer media, Anderson Cooper (he is such a handsome man) should do a twelve part series: "Change ups: How they have stolen our confidence & eroded our trust!" He'll report, we'll decide. Yes, life throws us curve balls, and lemons - I like lemonade. I can see the spin on a curve ball, it is the change up that forces me back to life's classroom, for I really don't know anything at all.

Statute of Limitations

There has to be some point when we stop using our screwed up childhoods as an excuse for being unhappy adults. Holding on to anger and bitterness eats you alive - it knows at your insides just a little bit every day until one day you are a hollowed out gray ghost wandering the cereal isle with no idea if you want high fiber or sweet circles. I'm not saying the pain of a messed up childhood won't reach up & bite you now and again...lord knows it will. I'm just saying there are 1,000 moments in between in which you decide how you wish your life to be. Given that the past cannot be changed holding onto it serves no purpose. The past is not an excuse for being unhappy. Many of us have required professional help to recover from childhood trauma. For some the trauma was too great, the scars too deep, there was no way to completely heal - however, if you have a "life" today, you are now the responsible party for your life. That may be one tough nut to crack - the past may be a heavy trailer hitched to yor tail...it can be released - there are means through which you can free yourself from all tha weight. No one says it is easy, just seems to me the work is worth the reward. All we have in our control is this moment, this measure of time, & it is so precious - so valuable, giving away any more of it than was taken by a messed up childhood - well, don't do it! You made it out, you survived - now thrive...show whatever or whoever that they can no longer ruin one second of your life because you have control-you are in the drivers seat and you will go wherever you darn well please however you darn well please so they can just go suck raw eggs because this is your life and you are going to have a ball - you are going to celebrate every moment. You are going to give each day one heck of a ride...open every morning like Christmas! Yes, some days will snap up and bite you - PTSD does not give you fair warning - the rest of the time though, goodness, celebrate,enjoy, be happy - it is your life now! You are the person deciding how your life is going to be - happiness is in your hands - I sure wish there was a road map...if you survived then you have the power & strength to thrive. Don't sell yourself short. You can do it! Now, the choices are yours! Choose life! Choose happiness! Choose joy! Choose forgiveness! Choose you!

I Know This

I know this - it is more difficult to care for a sick loved one than to be the sick loved one. I know this because I have walked a mile in both pair of shoes. When I was caring for Mommie, I think I held my breath for the better part of three years. I wanted to do everything I could to make her comfortable and happy. I did not leave the house without hugging & kissing her, making sure to say "I love you." when I was out I picked up a treat for her...magazine, ice cream, candy bar, rag sheet - something, anything. When I returned I practically sprinted to her room, praying the whole way that she would be fine. I weighed 86 pounds when she passed. I slept in the hospital 24 straight nights. The one night I stayed home, she passed. I reckon she didn't want me there. If she just sneezed I panicked. Taking care of Mommie was difficult, it was also the best thing I have ever done. Dr.'s appointments, chemo treatments, blood transfusions, all of it scared me - all of it filled me with strength I never knew I had. There was the constant worry, the fear I wasn't doing a good job, or doing the right things. Sometimes she was so sick I wanted to take her to the hospital...she inevitably denied my urgings. Only one time did she let me take her to the ER. There were moments of great frustration. There were moments of deep connecting. She would be sick for days, just sleep-refuse to eat-then someone would come to visit, she would sit up, even get out of bed and go sit in the living room - all jovial, laughing and chatting. I'll tell ya I would get frustrated. I'm telling folks how sick she was & when they visited she was just fine. People must have thought I was nuts. I was happy she would get up & dressed for company, but I knew how hard it was for her. She was strong, stubborn, & didn't want anyone to know how she really felt. Unfortunately I find myself wearing the other shoes. I need help with daily living. Some days are good - some days are bad. I know the weight of caring for someone you love-it is darned hard...yet, you want to do it - and you want to be perfect. You strive to anticipate every need - yet you never feel your doing a good enough job. It is not for lack of trying, caring for a loved one is hard...yet there will come a day when you realize you have given that person the greatest gift - one day it will sink in, your love & care filled you as much as it filled the person you were caring for. And I'm a stubborn sucker! And I am sometimes angry - not exactly how I envisioned my life at 49! Yet I am humbled, for my Poopy Sister would walk a thousand miles to get me something I wanted. She keeps ice water in my cup, my favorite snacks on the end table - she anticipates my needs before I need them. I know I frustrate her. I sit up & chat when company comes... This is a big adjustment for a previously very independent woman. I plan to get better. I plan to prove the Dr's wrong. I believe I can heal myself - I am strong & stubborn! I have things left to do - now I'm up here in Malone...Eileen is wearing the caretaker shoes, Poopy is in Texas worrying about me so much more. I feel like crap for making so many folks worry. It is what it is - each of us doing the best we can...love is amazing! It empowers us to accomplish feats we would never thought of! I am humbled for the lengths my Poopy Sister has gone to for me. She is amazing. And Eileen, my Malone family - I am so blessed! I still plan on getting better, I'm just not done with my business here...I need to learn to ask for help, to accept help, and I need to keep fighting to do for myself. Keep fighting to get stronger, better. I know it is more difficult wearing the shoes of care provider. Especially when your dealing with someone stubborn as I am - I also know there are going to be moments of collosal frustration, and moments of peace...it's a moment by moment journey we are on, we will get through - love is a strong platform. I am blessed. Humbled, grateful, unmanageable how much kindness I receive every day - we are going to beat this. Ultimately, we are all going to learn valuable lessons - perhaps not in the middle of the storm...they are there. Life is truly amazing!

Our Pets

Our Pets...Zuko had another seizure this morning.  It was a  bad one and his second in two weeks - he is my constant companion. When I am sick he won't leave me.  He doesn't go to pee or eat - he just stays in the bed with me. Doesn't matter if I am gone a day or a month - He welcomes me home with the same happy dance and kisses. I know seizure disorders are common in his breed...yet I think my heart will shatter into a million pieces when he goes. I also know the shards will dull, and in time I may get another dog.  No Dog will be Zuko - Aldona Mae has two cats. They hiss at him, growl at him, claw at him - he does not do anything; well he comes and cries to me.  He doesn't understand why the cats don't like him.  The neighbors have two puppies.  Both puppies are bigger than Zuko and weigh a lot more than he does - the puppies are kept outside in a fenced area.  They are puppies and they do find ways out of the fenced area.  I pet them, give them some cookies or treats - their owners feed and water them, that's it.  They are starved for affection.  Zuko, no he does not like this.  He jumps in to rescue me, ready to take on both those dogs! He made the trip from Cali like a champ - no complaining, in the truck out of the truck, different motel, not much time to walk - he didn't mind.  He slept on the front seat between Aldona Mae and I, or when I was not driving he would sit on my lap.  Since we have been here in Texas he just goes with the flow.  He goes around the backyard, instinctively knowing it's boundaries.  He loves it when Jessica or Robert get home - he does his happy dance as he runs out to greet them.  Jessica likes to take him for a walk, he goes with her.  She likes to give him a bath - she gets in the tub with him - Zuko does not like a bath but he sits in there with her and endures the water and shampoo.  Dogs really are people - they are so smart, so in tune with their owners. Their love is without condition.  Their loyalty has no measure.  I wish I had a big piece of land so I could take all the dogs from the shelter - there really is nothing quite the same as a wet kiss on a bad day.  Still I know, one day, I will have to make the choice what is best for Zuko or perhaps God will take matters into his own hands.  Odd how sometimes we measure life by the losses instead of the victories.  I have had many pets, each special in his/her own way.  None quite like Zuko - I do believe he would do anything for me, as I would for him.  So I am just going to enjoy every second we share, every game we play, every wet kiss, and every happy dance - and if that time comes I am going to remember how many days he lied in bed with me because I could not get up, sacrificing his own needs and wants.  We, people I mean, we could learn a lot from a dog like Zuko - no judgements, no conditions, love and acceptance - loyal and ever ready to help - I need to be more like Zuko - he is a good person!

Why I Believe

A few weeks ago I received very disappointing news...I went to sit on the back porch, being outside - with the birds and squirrels, that comforts me. Most of you remember the events of last summer;the caterpillar Eileen found, it's well chronicled journey through the stages of a cocoon, than a chrysalis, until a beautiful butterfly emerged. Her name was Hope. Well on this day a few weeks ago, as I was pondering the sum of my parts a Monarch butterfly, the first I'd seen this year lit on the railing beside me. In seeing "Hope", I was reminded our challenges are more often opportunities for growth & we should never give up hope. Everyday since I have watched a butterfly flit about me. Each time reminding me the power of holding on to hope...even when doing so defies logic - though I have never been a logical person. The path of my life required me either to be bitter and angry or hold on to faith and hope. My niece Jessica, believes Cardinals are Grandma Murtagh keeping an eye on us - we see red Cardinals everyday - yes, I know it is birthing season for butterflies...that would be logic! Instead, I believe "Hope" had sent her friends to remind me I should continue believing in the power of hope. This week I received good news, sitting on the back porch, I was sending a text to Eileen sharing the good news - when I looked up, there on the table, no more than 6 inches from me a Monarch butterfly sat. She stayed there a good minute or so. Through my tears I offered thanks to God & to so many people who pray for me and keep me in their thoughts. So this is why I believe - a butterfly, sat vigil with me- reminding me that hope can actually move mountains, it can sustain us though our darkest hours, and yes hope alone can make the improbable absolute reality. It is easy to forget to remember how a seed of hope can bloom into a bushel of possibility, watering our souls - most of our days our filled with work & worries...we have little time to watch a caterpillar become a butterfly - I think we need to make the time. Life is truly wonderful. Miracles happen all the time, prayers are answered, butterflies are born. My hope for all of you would be for you to see a lost loved one in a bird or find hope in a butterfly!

The Journey

We don't really know where life is going to take us. We set out with goals and ideas; we make plans, we have dreams - one day we are sailing on a smooth body of water, with the sun warming our face and the wind clearing our mind...the next day we are standing at a crossroad, with no idea which way to go. If we are lucky (and I am) when at this confounding crossroad we won't be standing alone. The love of family & friends will help us find the correct direction. I don't know about tomorrow. My life, at 48, this isn't how I planned my life! Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men! Here I am though, what am I suppose to do? I am so blessed! My Poopy Sister flew to LA, packed my stuff, then drove with me back here to TX. She is sick with exhaustion, I am numb. We just don't know do we? I have spent most of my life being the strong one, the dependable one, I had a life plan...then one day all of that is changed. Adapt, adjust, overcome - What am I going to do with the rest of my life? It is mind boggling, yet I know moving forward is the only thing to do. Movement is life! Empty the backpack, give thanks for what you have, and remember to breathe! That is an important one...the breathing! Has anyone seen me? Ha, that's how it feels! I reckon at one time or another we all face this question. Has anyone seen me? Maybe I am on a milk carton somewhere! No, I wasn't expecting, at 48, starting over...I am the fortunate one - all the people who love and support me have made a soft place for me to land. Now I have to find my legs again, find a new voice, reinvent myself...shucks that sounds like a lot. Adapt, adjust, overcome...and remember to breathe. Guess I better keep it simple for a while. Besides this could be fun, recreating yourself - right? I know I am never alone, I know I am loved, I know there is a reason for everything...I only need be patient and quiet - I only need to still my mind so I might hear the message that will direct me. I can do that - I won't become homeless, I won't be hungry, my heart won't become cold, I will not stop seeking the good in people, I will continue with humble gratitude, I will believe everything happens for a reason - I just need patience until the reason is revealed; I will laugh more and worry less - OK, I am a born worrier, but I'm going to try. Dang, this reinventing oneself...I'm too old for this-or maybe I'm too young for this. Either way, a girl has to do what a girls has to do! Will someone wake me when it's over?