As I sit here tonight- feeling miserable- yes miserable- a feeling one is allowed to have when one is actually going through life being one had awful news time and again- I have to wonder how I got here.
I thought maybe if I tried very hard and took the correct medication and followed the doctor’s orders just right that nothing else would be handed to me (and us - meaning my John and my Olivia) in a small windowless emergency room that barely had a television or a properly working telephone.
It’s the sort of news that comes to someone in pieces because it’s such weird and unusual health related news. When one gets the news we got, it’s almost as if all other news given to us was pointless.
Like just recently I had a long conversation with someone I used to consider kind and someone I could count on- no matter our differences. After I received the news I got, that conversation seemed - well... pointless and unnecessary and even ridiculous.
We even got a letter recently that said we were so close to paying off a loan - a loan we took out a year and a half ago. That letter we were waiting for? The one that could possibly make or break a score of credit? That letter seemed - all of the sudden - comical and again; pointless....
You see...
It started out so subtly. At first a small, but rather sharp and unexpected pain on my right side.
The next day, a little bit more pain and a lot less subtle. This day, this time, it was if the new pain was saying, “Hey. I’m here. I’m not gonna go away.”
By day three, the pain was starting to interrupt my very short - but very needed- sleep time. Ya see, my small fiber neuropathy already disturbs my sleep. And by day three of this brand new unexpected and uninvited pain guest, I was starting to vocalize my concern.
First to my husband, then to my mom...
And then all of the sudden, the pain just stopped.
You’d think that was it. And that was gonna be the end of all of this...
But, we’re talking about me.
Me.
The only sibling (5 of us) with a multitude of health issues. The only family member whose life has been subjected to a lifetime of disability payments. Payments that I earned, mind you... but I never thought that at my age I would be a shut in with pain that would make me cry.
This past Wednesday, I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t find comfort. Not on our very new and very expensive king size plush mattress. No comfort found on our brand new sofa. Sitting in a chair brought no relief.
By the time John awoke to get ready for his day, I told him to dial 911. The pain on my right side - lower, middle, and upper abdominal pain that radiated to the back - again; all right sided. The pain was so intense and so bad that 911 seemed the only logical thing to do.
Was it my appendix?
Gallbladder?
Did I have stomach ulcers?
Well, during the what seemed like a 10 hour ambulance ride to the hospital (and I swear the driver hit every single pot hole he could) the EMT I was stuck with kept asking me the same questions over and over again. Is your appendix still in? Is your gallbladder still in? Have you ever been told you have ulcers?
By the time we got to the hospital, I was finally given something rather strong for the horrible pain that had me cursing and crying...
then, all the tests started.
First, a barrage of questions. Drinking? Drugs? Pregnant?
Blood tests, ultrasound, CT scan....
Then, a nurse came in to ask me if I could perhaps give a urine sample. I tried (with assistance) to get up and walk the 10 steps to the restroom. I immediately cried out in pain. Those 10 steps weren’t happening. They brought in a portable toilet for me to go in.
After that, the nurse had gotten some results all at once on her computer screen. We had yet to see the actual ordering doctor. I mean, we had seen one, just not the one who was ordering all the tests...
Knowing better, but desperately seeking answers anyway, I asked the nurse to tell us anything- ANYTHING...
The words I heard were
‘very enlarged liver’
‘a team of surgeons on their way’
‘liver biopsy’
‘spending several days here’
John would later tell me that I lost all color in my face, grabbed his hand and said “I need Olivia.”
He said I also asked for my mom.
Then the doctors came in. The tests have all confirmed what I was about to say. They just couldn’t believe what was happening. They seldom come across people who never drink and people who never do illegal drugs. They just met one on Thursday though.
My liver was so enlarged, and we could see the images of it- it was actually crushing a few organs. One of my kidneys is being bent in half, my liver is also hitting the diaphragm so abruptly and abrasively, that every time I take a sharp or deep breath, it’s so incredibly painful. I also had one of those upper GI’s done. That test showed several stomach ulcers.
Since the liver is still a fully functioning and operational liver - meaning- the only problem is that it’s just really big hitting organs and that any jolts to my person / body may make it hit vital organs- so I have to practice an abundance of caution, they say I don’t have a diseased liver. Just a HUGE liver. All tests prove it.
So, they think maybe some autoimmune attack happened to make my liver so large.
That’s where some of my pain was coming from. I am to have CT scans done every 3 months to monitor the growing or lack of growing (hopefully) of my liver. If the surgeon sees it approaching things that may kill me, they said they would operate. If I start to have severe trouble breathing, they will go in and operate.
As far as the ulcers are concerned; just some prescribed medication to help with that... taken around meal schedules and what not...
So there you have it.
A huge liver.
No fun in getting it that way. Just another shitty playing card in our already shitty hand of dealt cards.....
If I seem like I am miserable at times; I have every right to be... walk a minute; hell, walk a fucking second in my shitty ill healthed life and let me know how you feel...
Maybe you can find a magical chiropractor to fix ya...
But I doubt it.
Sunday, October 28, 2018
Saturday, September 29, 2018
Moments of Seniority
As a partial insomniac and someone in massive amounts of neuropathy pain, I find myself awake at the awful hour of 2:00 am.
On the heels of being really ill as well. I had some sort of chest cold/flu thing for the last several days... coughing, high fevers, some vomiting, joint pain, chest pain - on top of my chronic pain. Ugh. It has not been fun around our house lately. Just a blur of Lysol, NyQuil, tissues, antibiotics, electric heating blankets, orange juice, chicken noodle soup... you name it.
If the cliche’ image of a sickly person pops up in your head; complete with a cartoon bubble with an insanely big red nose and a thermometer sticking out of their mouths, chances are it has made at least one appearance at our place.
We all had our time with this awful sick big too. It always starts off with our daughter who goes back to school and brings it home and we all shake hands with the mighty big SICK bug.
No fun around here lately. Not at all.
But, we’re all getting a little better... a little. And the antibiotics seem to be working for all of us... so, with the illness of the flu leaving our house;
“Goodbye you evil bastard! Thanks for leaving! And no, we don’t validate parking!”
We now turn our attention to more important things. Things like senior pictures. That’s right. Our daughter has a picture frame that sits in our home- one of those picture frames that has a small photo of the years’ school picture in it. Starts at Kindergarten and ends with 12 th grade (and hopefully for all parties involved, there’s only one picture per school year. )
And the last slot filled was - can you guess?
Yes!
Her junior year was last filled...
tomorrow she is sitting for her senior portraits! How exciting!
In 4-6 weeks time, John and I can sit down and choose one or two exciting photos for her last year of school. We may even do a “baby ad” for her senior year. Lord knows I have a billion and a half baby pictures of our (not so little) little girl.
John is picking her up a bit early and I am going to provide her with a casual top. Her cap and gown portrait will be done as well... and of course a formal picture as well... oh gosh!!! Her senior year!
Our daughter is just growing in wonder!
And our daughter is so amazing too. A bit of time ago, she even stood up for me against something that was said to me and was a bit hasty in what she said, but nonetheless she stood up for me...
I just can’t get over how much time has gone by! I am just so thrilled that her last year of school is happening as I type up this new blogpost...
our little girl is going to be getting a dress this year (a fancy and gorgeous dress) and attending her senior prom. she will also probably skip school in the traditional honor of ‘senior skip day’. she will also be going on her senior class trip. there is just so much to enjoy during ones senior school year.
and my biggest wish is that she does them all and enjoys each and every senior year opportunity.
I look back at my own senior school year and I remember enjoying most of those aforementioned things.
So, as I end blogpost, I will just say that my daughter is going to love her senior year; if I can remember to just chill (for the most part) .
And as I bid you good night and try to get some sleep - despite my incurable and chronic neuropathy pain- I will try to sleep thinking of my daughter and her (hopefully outstanding) amazing senior school year.
Thursday, August 30, 2018
Do Some Googleing
Day two (in a row that I am writing in my blog). Day two million - or so it feels - that I am in such bad and unextinguishing (sp?) pain.
It starts in my toes (or toenails) and creeps up the actual toes and from there shoots up the foot (each one) and into my calves and passed my knees and into my thighs and straight into my forever hurting hips and of course up the spine where it takes its gruesome and beastly turns into the rest of my body (and if you’re wondering; yes, even my hair follicles hurt some days).
I do not expect anyone to completely fathom or interpret the abhorrent agony or beastly burning that I comprehend each and every day. There’s hardly sufficient or even suitable enough words (or variations thereof) to clearly demonstrate what it is I am trying to describe when it comes to my daily struggle - both physical and emotional. I need to rectify my own painful misery and also try to help and encourage my daughter and husband. And they both need to ward off many of their own physical afflictions. Life in our household has become a constant struggle with pain and woeful experiences.
As I stated above; I do not expect everyone to understand what we go through.
(and this is not a ‘Hey chick, there are those that have it worse.’)
Yes. I fuckin’ know that. I’ve been living underneath that umbrella of thought since my ordeal has started.
Those who have it worse than me and my own?
Read another blog and/or better yet, start your own.
Our spilling over plates just don’t have the adequate space for you and your ‘worse off’ issues.
Anyway.
If you don’t get what we go through; google our issues to at least attempt to perceive and discern them. That’s what I do when I don’t get something. I whip out my smartphone and google the shit out of e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.
Back when I was your age, I had to actually go to a set of books called encyclopedias
(What? Encyclopedias? Is that like Wikipedia? Sure sounds like it.)
to figure shit out. I also frequently visited secret societies called libraries. Libraries were full of encyclopedias and other rectangular shaped items called books that were chock full of Wikipedia information. Then, and only then, did I open my mouth with an opinion on what I did not have previous knowledge of. (the preposition there can kiss my ass)
Good words to google are
- type 1 (that’s one and NOT two) diabetes
- small fiber neuropathy
-dysphagia
- Addison’s Disease
- Graves’ disease
When you’re brushed up on what plagues us everyday, please ask us questions. We’d be happy and actually relieved to answer your insightful queries on our health related problems.
I have had it to my eyeballs hearing how because you know a nurse in a doctor office or your cousins sister great aunts cat had the exact same health problem or problems that you’re now the ‘go-to-guru’ on all things health.
And for those who do not understand but who actually have sympathy and compassion for others who suffer an invisible ailment, thank you for your kindness and understanding. It truly means something to us. It really does.
Facebook and Instagram and all of those other ‘social’ websites are becoming more dopic by the day. So, by allowing stupidity to rear its head over and over again, these social websites are less social and more repulsive.
I hope that there will be days when the world and its goings on will look a bit brighter to me, because right now, all I see is painful despair. And in 2010, before my pain started, despair wasn’t even a word I would look up in the dictionary (oops; I mean I wouldn’t google it)
Let’s try to understand and uplift people. It’ll do a world of good for someone, I promise.
It starts in my toes (or toenails) and creeps up the actual toes and from there shoots up the foot (each one) and into my calves and passed my knees and into my thighs and straight into my forever hurting hips and of course up the spine where it takes its gruesome and beastly turns into the rest of my body (and if you’re wondering; yes, even my hair follicles hurt some days).
I do not expect anyone to completely fathom or interpret the abhorrent agony or beastly burning that I comprehend each and every day. There’s hardly sufficient or even suitable enough words (or variations thereof) to clearly demonstrate what it is I am trying to describe when it comes to my daily struggle - both physical and emotional. I need to rectify my own painful misery and also try to help and encourage my daughter and husband. And they both need to ward off many of their own physical afflictions. Life in our household has become a constant struggle with pain and woeful experiences.
As I stated above; I do not expect everyone to understand what we go through.
(and this is not a ‘Hey chick, there are those that have it worse.’)
Yes. I fuckin’ know that. I’ve been living underneath that umbrella of thought since my ordeal has started.
Those who have it worse than me and my own?
Read another blog and/or better yet, start your own.
Our spilling over plates just don’t have the adequate space for you and your ‘worse off’ issues.
Anyway.
If you don’t get what we go through; google our issues to at least attempt to perceive and discern them. That’s what I do when I don’t get something. I whip out my smartphone and google the shit out of e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.
Back when I was your age, I had to actually go to a set of books called encyclopedias
(What? Encyclopedias? Is that like Wikipedia? Sure sounds like it.)
to figure shit out. I also frequently visited secret societies called libraries. Libraries were full of encyclopedias and other rectangular shaped items called books that were chock full of Wikipedia information. Then, and only then, did I open my mouth with an opinion on what I did not have previous knowledge of. (the preposition there can kiss my ass)
Good words to google are
- type 1 (that’s one and NOT two) diabetes
- small fiber neuropathy
-dysphagia
- Addison’s Disease
- Graves’ disease
When you’re brushed up on what plagues us everyday, please ask us questions. We’d be happy and actually relieved to answer your insightful queries on our health related problems.
I have had it to my eyeballs hearing how because you know a nurse in a doctor office or your cousins sister great aunts cat had the exact same health problem or problems that you’re now the ‘go-to-guru’ on all things health.
And for those who do not understand but who actually have sympathy and compassion for others who suffer an invisible ailment, thank you for your kindness and understanding. It truly means something to us. It really does.
Facebook and Instagram and all of those other ‘social’ websites are becoming more dopic by the day. So, by allowing stupidity to rear its head over and over again, these social websites are less social and more repulsive.
I hope that there will be days when the world and its goings on will look a bit brighter to me, because right now, all I see is painful despair. And in 2010, before my pain started, despair wasn’t even a word I would look up in the dictionary (oops; I mean I wouldn’t google it)
Let’s try to understand and uplift people. It’ll do a world of good for someone, I promise.
Tuesday, August 28, 2018
Wonderland Liquor
The pain on a given day; any given day is sometimes very difficult to put into writing. And let’s be honest here... it’s not just my physical pain and anguish; My Olivia has been dealing with much of her own pain, intolerable heartache and personal anguish herself. And we shouldn’t forget my dear and sweet loving husband. His own pain; what with never eating anything solid or delicious again and his day to day just becoming an older man pain that he experiences. It’s like we were all dealt this one hand of shitty playing cards and for some reason it’s missing all 52 cards. We’re short a shit ton of needed cards to be able to play a fair game of life.
Between our rare and abnormal health issues, we experienced a fire two years ago that made us realize how people treat those in need ... family or friends ... it didn’t matter. We got to know how those who hear about ones they love (or have said that they loved) - they hear we lost everything and still we were punished with heartache and disappointment.
In fact, it was my own father in law- someone none of us even speak to or even think about for that matter- who on the day I and John and Olivia lost ALL our worldly possessions (as few as they were) told me to “GO TO HELL” and called me a bitch. Yes, that is some of the responses we received after losing our home...
of course, there was much more saner responses that were kind and compassionate and many people- friends and family alike who helped or at least offered to help. So it wasn’t all bad. It’s just; there were others who were truly close to the situation and just did nothing. Nothing. And that was a shock and surprise to the three of us as we spent the holidays in a hotel room...
If I wasn’t in the terrible physical shape I am in, I would probably start to help others who truly need it. Because I know. I know what it’s like to be short a whole hand of cards and still lose at life.
It’s a hole that I and my family have been living out of for years now.
My spinal stenosis is getting worse. Yes. Worse. It was already horrible to begin with. But now I cannot walk the length of my house without crying out - wailing out - like just taking the next step is gonna literally kill me because it hurts that bad.
The doctors don’t think an operation can help. I mean, sure, they could go in and try, but I don’t think I wanna face anesthesia and the physical and unbearable pain of an operation for a “we’re not sure it would help” .
Yet, I guarantee that at the next gathering of my rather large family, I may not make it to because the literal even getting ready may be too much to take.... no matter the doses of large prescription painkillers that I use...
And I am sure there will be some of my extended family there that simply won’t understand and may make the usual comment of my absence- as if my presence at a gathering - no matter how much it hurts me not to go and spend that precious time... my not being at any family gathering breaks my heart each and every time.. these moments are a fleeting thing and one that cannot be given back...
But someone will ultimately and ignorantly mention how I am “not there again” and “I bet she doesn’t even like us” or “what a bitch” ... and that’s ok, because nobody understands me or my unbelievable horrible pain - pain that gets worse and more depressing every day. And again, it is the three of us who are experiencing various amounts of personal pain...
the last two months have been hell for me. Hell. I am unsure if actual Hell will be like this; but if it is, I will consider myself prepared nicely for it.
The hot burning in my feet is a great start for the lake of fire I will be swimming in.
Truthfully, I am almost positive that Heaven is where I’ll spend eternity; even so; it’s nice to know I am prepared for the worse while still hoping for the best.
Tonight is considerably difficult for me. The pain cannot be subdued for some reason. The tears have fallen and I have created a nice little collection of tissues and wipes and find myself wading in a lake of tears fit for Alice in Wonderland (minus the blue Eat Me cake).
If I do come across anything from Alice in Wonderland, I hope it’s a bottle that says “drink me” on it, and I truly hope it’s filled with hard liquor.
Between our rare and abnormal health issues, we experienced a fire two years ago that made us realize how people treat those in need ... family or friends ... it didn’t matter. We got to know how those who hear about ones they love (or have said that they loved) - they hear we lost everything and still we were punished with heartache and disappointment.
In fact, it was my own father in law- someone none of us even speak to or even think about for that matter- who on the day I and John and Olivia lost ALL our worldly possessions (as few as they were) told me to “GO TO HELL” and called me a bitch. Yes, that is some of the responses we received after losing our home...
of course, there was much more saner responses that were kind and compassionate and many people- friends and family alike who helped or at least offered to help. So it wasn’t all bad. It’s just; there were others who were truly close to the situation and just did nothing. Nothing. And that was a shock and surprise to the three of us as we spent the holidays in a hotel room...
If I wasn’t in the terrible physical shape I am in, I would probably start to help others who truly need it. Because I know. I know what it’s like to be short a whole hand of cards and still lose at life.
It’s a hole that I and my family have been living out of for years now.
My spinal stenosis is getting worse. Yes. Worse. It was already horrible to begin with. But now I cannot walk the length of my house without crying out - wailing out - like just taking the next step is gonna literally kill me because it hurts that bad.
The doctors don’t think an operation can help. I mean, sure, they could go in and try, but I don’t think I wanna face anesthesia and the physical and unbearable pain of an operation for a “we’re not sure it would help” .
Yet, I guarantee that at the next gathering of my rather large family, I may not make it to because the literal even getting ready may be too much to take.... no matter the doses of large prescription painkillers that I use...
And I am sure there will be some of my extended family there that simply won’t understand and may make the usual comment of my absence- as if my presence at a gathering - no matter how much it hurts me not to go and spend that precious time... my not being at any family gathering breaks my heart each and every time.. these moments are a fleeting thing and one that cannot be given back...
But someone will ultimately and ignorantly mention how I am “not there again” and “I bet she doesn’t even like us” or “what a bitch” ... and that’s ok, because nobody understands me or my unbelievable horrible pain - pain that gets worse and more depressing every day. And again, it is the three of us who are experiencing various amounts of personal pain...
the last two months have been hell for me. Hell. I am unsure if actual Hell will be like this; but if it is, I will consider myself prepared nicely for it.
The hot burning in my feet is a great start for the lake of fire I will be swimming in.
Truthfully, I am almost positive that Heaven is where I’ll spend eternity; even so; it’s nice to know I am prepared for the worse while still hoping for the best.
Tonight is considerably difficult for me. The pain cannot be subdued for some reason. The tears have fallen and I have created a nice little collection of tissues and wipes and find myself wading in a lake of tears fit for Alice in Wonderland (minus the blue Eat Me cake).
If I do come across anything from Alice in Wonderland, I hope it’s a bottle that says “drink me” on it, and I truly hope it’s filled with hard liquor.
Friday, October 24, 2014
Consistently Constant
I don't have much to say tonight.
Mostly, it's because I spent the better part of my fall - thus far - being sick in some sort of way. Between the flu, bronchitis, and that mysterious stomach bug, I've been to preoccupied to even care about posting on my blog.
Tonight, while I sit here and sip on my delicious mug of hot apple cider, I finally feel well enough, not just in body, but in my soul as well, to post a little something for my few but dear readers.
I have been doing an awful lot of TV watching lately. I really don't fill my days up with productive work anymore since becoming disabled, so TV is my buddy through out the day. TV is what keeps me company while she is at school and he is at work...
All I see anymore is what's going on with the Ebola scare and ISIS. People with protective masks on their faces and other people with guns on their backs. Lots of scary stuff is going on in this crazy messed up world.
I am thankful that my problems aren't nearly as tough as others have it. I am grateful that my biggest concern is where to get my flu shot or when availability is to have blood work done.
And as my hours of TV watching turn into hours of falling asleep in my comfortable bed, I am really happy that I have the two most awesome people in the world to wake up to in the morning.
Things like ISIS and Ebola don't bother me here in my little and tiny part of this world. My biggest scare is whether or not Apollo was able to catch the mouse in time before said mouse scurried back into its hole. And I am unsure if this makes me really really appreciative and thankful or if it makes me really really selfish, but I am going to continue to be happy that I (for now) don't have to worry about the war going on across the world or the deadly virus that is taking over our TV screens...
John and Olivia are always going to be my constants.
My constant joy.
My constant happiness.
My constant concern.
My constant love.
Sure, I know that using that word - constant - is me just lying to myself. Nobody lives forever, therefore neither one of them can be my constant anything. But, for now, that's exactly what they are...
Those two are my constants.
John and I have been watching Olivia go through some tough times. These awkward teenage years are proving to be a "constant" stressor in Olivia's life. We have been noticing different ideas, different thought patterns, different ways of speaking in our teenage daughter. Not all of it is a bad thing. But, for the most part, being a teenager is becoming a bit too much for Olivia to bear.
Some of you know the worst of it, most of you don't. And John and I plan on keeping the "worst" of it to ourselves. Reserved for those that just "need to know" or those we choose to tell. That's ok... We're our own family We're our own unit of support and guidance throughout these difficult times. And I know that because we have raised our daughter right, and we have removed things and people from her life that no longer make her life positive, that she (and us as well) will get through this...
We have no doubt that our constant love and never ending support will help Olivia stay afloat and thrive during her teen years - and God willing, beyond.
So, I guess that's it for now... Sorry that this is one of those "vague" posts, but I am sure you understand...
Mostly, it's because I spent the better part of my fall - thus far - being sick in some sort of way. Between the flu, bronchitis, and that mysterious stomach bug, I've been to preoccupied to even care about posting on my blog.
Tonight, while I sit here and sip on my delicious mug of hot apple cider, I finally feel well enough, not just in body, but in my soul as well, to post a little something for my few but dear readers.
I have been doing an awful lot of TV watching lately. I really don't fill my days up with productive work anymore since becoming disabled, so TV is my buddy through out the day. TV is what keeps me company while she is at school and he is at work...
All I see anymore is what's going on with the Ebola scare and ISIS. People with protective masks on their faces and other people with guns on their backs. Lots of scary stuff is going on in this crazy messed up world.
I am thankful that my problems aren't nearly as tough as others have it. I am grateful that my biggest concern is where to get my flu shot or when availability is to have blood work done.
And as my hours of TV watching turn into hours of falling asleep in my comfortable bed, I am really happy that I have the two most awesome people in the world to wake up to in the morning.
Things like ISIS and Ebola don't bother me here in my little and tiny part of this world. My biggest scare is whether or not Apollo was able to catch the mouse in time before said mouse scurried back into its hole. And I am unsure if this makes me really really appreciative and thankful or if it makes me really really selfish, but I am going to continue to be happy that I (for now) don't have to worry about the war going on across the world or the deadly virus that is taking over our TV screens...
John and Olivia are always going to be my constants.
My constant joy.
My constant happiness.
My constant concern.
My constant love.
Sure, I know that using that word - constant - is me just lying to myself. Nobody lives forever, therefore neither one of them can be my constant anything. But, for now, that's exactly what they are...
Those two are my constants.John and I have been watching Olivia go through some tough times. These awkward teenage years are proving to be a "constant" stressor in Olivia's life. We have been noticing different ideas, different thought patterns, different ways of speaking in our teenage daughter. Not all of it is a bad thing. But, for the most part, being a teenager is becoming a bit too much for Olivia to bear.
Some of you know the worst of it, most of you don't. And John and I plan on keeping the "worst" of it to ourselves. Reserved for those that just "need to know" or those we choose to tell. That's ok... We're our own family We're our own unit of support and guidance throughout these difficult times. And I know that because we have raised our daughter right, and we have removed things and people from her life that no longer make her life positive, that she (and us as well) will get through this...
We have no doubt that our constant love and never ending support will help Olivia stay afloat and thrive during her teen years - and God willing, beyond.
So, I guess that's it for now... Sorry that this is one of those "vague" posts, but I am sure you understand...
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Three Stages of Hell (of sicknesses)
We all go through friends in our lives. Some are there to listen to our troubles and maybe even give some much needed advice. Some friends are out to party like it's still 1999 and they are the ones that just wanna get shit faced with you all weekend long. Yet, there are the other friends we have in our lives. Friends I bet you wouldn't of thought of to even call them friends.
This is what my post today is about...
This post is about the friends that nobody thanks when the war inside of our bodies has finally relented. You all know what I am talking about too. Don't pretend you don't. You certainly do...
Here it goes
Week One
"John, I am not feeling that hot. I'm gonna go lay down for awhile and see if that helps."
"You mean that little car ride killed you?" John says this with a little smile. He knows how I am. Disabled, sure. But, usually a car ride doesn't do me in like the one we were just on. A quick trip here, another quick stop here. And then we're on our way home.
I got home, looked back the hallway where my bedroom was and immediately went that direction. No force in nature would have stopped me from doing that. I didn't even bother removing my shoes as I flew myself onto the bed and stayed there. In my mind, I was going to stay till John had dinner cooked and then I was going to get up, feeling refreshed and have dinner with my family. That never happened.
In fact, the next time I opened my eyes, it was 3 in the am .... I had slept from 4 pm to 3 am and, of course I had missed dinner.
Not that I was feeling that hungry anyway. At 3 am, when everyone (including Apollo) is out, there's not much to do except look for meds to try and make yourself feel better.
Because by this time, I was certainly NOT feeling my hottest. Knowing of my pharmacy in the bathroom and the slightly smaller pharmacy in the kitchen, I started to dig for something to bring my fever down, to make me stop shaking, and to make the cough go away, which was getting worse as long as I was standing up...
The usual find came in the form of Nyquil. That stuff rocks. Especially taken with the right additives. I was going to take my last dose of my Oxycode for the day with this shot of Nyquil. That oughtta get the zzzzzzzz's rolling, huh??
And it did. I slept rather good that night, despite being so sick. The Nyquil was helping with the incessant cough, but it was also helping to bring my 103 fever down. The Oxycodone was for the small fiber nueropathy that I experience on a daily and nightly basis. Something that WILL never go away and something I WOULD NEVER WISH on my own enemy...
So, that is how the next week and a half had gone. Crying for more Nyquil and Oxycodone and sucking on cough drops and checking blood sugars and checking to see how high my fevers were going....
Days and days of that. Up and down numbers on my glucometer.... can't wait to explain that one to the endocrinologist. I had watched hours and hours of TV and Netflix. Both were useless because once my meds had kicked in, I was asleep within a half hour anyway... not a fun week and a half.
But, the flu seemed to go away on it's own. I slowly started to come out of my sickness funk and slowly but surely rejoined the land of the living. I noticed their faces when they both looked at me.
"Hi Mommy. Feeling better?" Well, as better as I am going to feel now anyway.
Week Two
After the flu, I was really surprised that I had fought it off with things we have here in the house. Hot tea, Nyquil (Gallons of Nyquil) and loads of cough drops. Tylenol and Ibuprofen to combat any persistent fevers. I was really proud that I had not once even called my family doc. I mean, I call him and he always gives me the same stuff anyway. And the stuff he gives me, I still have in my house. So, I saved myself a frustrating call to him and decided to get better all by myself. Which I did.
Until....
That's when Bronchitis hit. And that HIT HARD.
The flu was a freakin walk in the park complete with care bears and unicorns and rainbows. This bronchitis was mean and wicked and didn't want to see me survive. I could tell it's evil motives from within. Don't ask me how. I could just tell...
Bronchitis is a very painful condition that may or may not lead to pneumonia. Seeing as I had just received both the flu shot (yeah, I obviously got one that I didn't get protection from) AND a pneumonia shot in the hospital during my two stays with them, I felt confident in my abilities to knock this bronchitis out without outside help as well. The only thing I wouldn't mess with would be my blood glucose numbers. If they started to go crazy and stay crazy despite all of my help, I would've went straightaway to the closest emergency room.
I started to drink crazy liquids. Water, hot tea, sometimes cold tea, and if the stomach started to hurt from nausea, a little bit of ginger ale was thrown in there as well... light eating. didn't have much of an appetite to speak of anyway. It was as if my body was trying to keep me sick to lose weight. I was not eating, I was really trying to drink, but nothing seemed to go as planned there either...
With every positive step I took, I seemed to have made two or three in the opposite direction. Quite frustrating. So, this whole time, I am checking my blood sugars every hour during awake hours and peeing badly at night. My sugars were starting to go in that dangerous direction of up, and not down. A serious situation. One that does require medical care immediately. So, I told myself that when John got up the next morning and my sugar was still crazy high I would treat myself to a ride to the ER.
That never happened. I woke up with John, and I checked my blood sugar and it seemed to go back down to it's normal limits. Surprise, surprise.
The next day or so, I had started to feel like my old self again. I wasn't crying all the time. I was finally showering when I needed to. I was doing light household chores.
It seems as though I was on the way to recovery. And I was going to stay that way...
Or so I thought....
The next few days went by rather quietly. No real illness to speak of. I remember telling my mom on the phone how sick I had been for almost three weeks and she felt bad but was wondering how I was feeling now. Not bad, I'd say. Not bad at all. I was once again sipping on hot coffee in the morning, and john and I finally changed the germy sheets so we could cohabit the same bed again. So, things were finally starting to look up... I was catching up on all the TV shows I had missed while sick. THANK GOD for DVR...
WEEK THREE
Ok, you can't call this next bout of illness week three, as it only hit over a long holiday weekend. It seemed the germs in my body were not quite done with their attack on my body just yet. They still wanted to rule the body, and my body didn't like it.
Between the CONSTANT vomiting and even more constant diarrhea, this third and final illness wasn't going to let me go so easily. No fevers to speak of. And since I was so incredibly sensitive in the stomach area, I couldn't even take my pain killers for the neuropathy pain. I was a mess. Vomiting and diarrhea and my painful condition of small fiber neuropathy.... there were many many many many many many many many tears going on during this illness. There's absolutely nothing I could do to help myself from this one. This one was going to have ride it's course. And I was going to be a miserable rider...
My blood sugars, despite my body fighting this third infection, stayed normal. Probably because of the lack of nutrients that was going in. I did try. A nibble on a cracker here, a sip of ginger ale there... but every time I ate or drank anything - no matter how tiny - the vomiting always reared it's ugly head.
I was a freakin mess. At one point, I looked in the mirror when I stumbled into the bathroom to wipe my face off, and I hardly recognized myself. I really looked sick. My hair was all curly but a messy curly that if you stared at it too long, you'd be turned to stone.
And the face looking back at me looked so pale. Where did all of the blood go??? And my face was so skinny too.
Between the flu, having bronchitis, and this latest battle with a various stomach ailment, I may have lost a total of 25 to 30 pounds - no kidding...
So, there you have it. The Wicked Three Illnesses that wanted to kill me. But, it didn't. These different illnesses weren't expecting an awesome man like John by my side. (can I just add here, that John reminds me of Bruce Willis from Unbreakable, I mean he never gets sick!) But, John stayed by my side, as long as he was not working and he helped bring me ice for my head, he cleaned out the puke bucket for me. He would hold my hair back so no flakes of vomit would get into it. He took care of all the household chores and really spent alot of time with Olivia so she wasn't bothering me for anything...
I think next time I have a trio of infection, the first thing I am going to do is INSIST I go to the nearest ER. I am not sure I could fight anything off anymore. I think I have had my breaking point. The next time something goes wrong with me, I am just going to get a ride to the hospital...
This is what my post today is about...
This post is about the friends that nobody thanks when the war inside of our bodies has finally relented. You all know what I am talking about too. Don't pretend you don't. You certainly do...
Here it goes
Week One
"John, I am not feeling that hot. I'm gonna go lay down for awhile and see if that helps."
"You mean that little car ride killed you?" John says this with a little smile. He knows how I am. Disabled, sure. But, usually a car ride doesn't do me in like the one we were just on. A quick trip here, another quick stop here. And then we're on our way home.
I got home, looked back the hallway where my bedroom was and immediately went that direction. No force in nature would have stopped me from doing that. I didn't even bother removing my shoes as I flew myself onto the bed and stayed there. In my mind, I was going to stay till John had dinner cooked and then I was going to get up, feeling refreshed and have dinner with my family. That never happened.
In fact, the next time I opened my eyes, it was 3 in the am .... I had slept from 4 pm to 3 am and, of course I had missed dinner.
Not that I was feeling that hungry anyway. At 3 am, when everyone (including Apollo) is out, there's not much to do except look for meds to try and make yourself feel better.
Because by this time, I was certainly NOT feeling my hottest. Knowing of my pharmacy in the bathroom and the slightly smaller pharmacy in the kitchen, I started to dig for something to bring my fever down, to make me stop shaking, and to make the cough go away, which was getting worse as long as I was standing up...
The usual find came in the form of Nyquil. That stuff rocks. Especially taken with the right additives. I was going to take my last dose of my Oxycode for the day with this shot of Nyquil. That oughtta get the zzzzzzzz's rolling, huh??
And it did. I slept rather good that night, despite being so sick. The Nyquil was helping with the incessant cough, but it was also helping to bring my 103 fever down. The Oxycodone was for the small fiber nueropathy that I experience on a daily and nightly basis. Something that WILL never go away and something I WOULD NEVER WISH on my own enemy...
So, that is how the next week and a half had gone. Crying for more Nyquil and Oxycodone and sucking on cough drops and checking blood sugars and checking to see how high my fevers were going....
Days and days of that. Up and down numbers on my glucometer.... can't wait to explain that one to the endocrinologist. I had watched hours and hours of TV and Netflix. Both were useless because once my meds had kicked in, I was asleep within a half hour anyway... not a fun week and a half.
But, the flu seemed to go away on it's own. I slowly started to come out of my sickness funk and slowly but surely rejoined the land of the living. I noticed their faces when they both looked at me.
"Hi Mommy. Feeling better?" Well, as better as I am going to feel now anyway.
Week Two
After the flu, I was really surprised that I had fought it off with things we have here in the house. Hot tea, Nyquil (Gallons of Nyquil) and loads of cough drops. Tylenol and Ibuprofen to combat any persistent fevers. I was really proud that I had not once even called my family doc. I mean, I call him and he always gives me the same stuff anyway. And the stuff he gives me, I still have in my house. So, I saved myself a frustrating call to him and decided to get better all by myself. Which I did.
Until....
That's when Bronchitis hit. And that HIT HARD.
The flu was a freakin walk in the park complete with care bears and unicorns and rainbows. This bronchitis was mean and wicked and didn't want to see me survive. I could tell it's evil motives from within. Don't ask me how. I could just tell...
Bronchitis is a very painful condition that may or may not lead to pneumonia. Seeing as I had just received both the flu shot (yeah, I obviously got one that I didn't get protection from) AND a pneumonia shot in the hospital during my two stays with them, I felt confident in my abilities to knock this bronchitis out without outside help as well. The only thing I wouldn't mess with would be my blood glucose numbers. If they started to go crazy and stay crazy despite all of my help, I would've went straightaway to the closest emergency room.
I started to drink crazy liquids. Water, hot tea, sometimes cold tea, and if the stomach started to hurt from nausea, a little bit of ginger ale was thrown in there as well... light eating. didn't have much of an appetite to speak of anyway. It was as if my body was trying to keep me sick to lose weight. I was not eating, I was really trying to drink, but nothing seemed to go as planned there either...
With every positive step I took, I seemed to have made two or three in the opposite direction. Quite frustrating. So, this whole time, I am checking my blood sugars every hour during awake hours and peeing badly at night. My sugars were starting to go in that dangerous direction of up, and not down. A serious situation. One that does require medical care immediately. So, I told myself that when John got up the next morning and my sugar was still crazy high I would treat myself to a ride to the ER.
That never happened. I woke up with John, and I checked my blood sugar and it seemed to go back down to it's normal limits. Surprise, surprise.
The next day or so, I had started to feel like my old self again. I wasn't crying all the time. I was finally showering when I needed to. I was doing light household chores.
It seems as though I was on the way to recovery. And I was going to stay that way...
Or so I thought....
The next few days went by rather quietly. No real illness to speak of. I remember telling my mom on the phone how sick I had been for almost three weeks and she felt bad but was wondering how I was feeling now. Not bad, I'd say. Not bad at all. I was once again sipping on hot coffee in the morning, and john and I finally changed the germy sheets so we could cohabit the same bed again. So, things were finally starting to look up... I was catching up on all the TV shows I had missed while sick. THANK GOD for DVR...
WEEK THREE
Between the CONSTANT vomiting and even more constant diarrhea, this third and final illness wasn't going to let me go so easily. No fevers to speak of. And since I was so incredibly sensitive in the stomach area, I couldn't even take my pain killers for the neuropathy pain. I was a mess. Vomiting and diarrhea and my painful condition of small fiber neuropathy.... there were many many many many many many many many tears going on during this illness. There's absolutely nothing I could do to help myself from this one. This one was going to have ride it's course. And I was going to be a miserable rider...
My blood sugars, despite my body fighting this third infection, stayed normal. Probably because of the lack of nutrients that was going in. I did try. A nibble on a cracker here, a sip of ginger ale there... but every time I ate or drank anything - no matter how tiny - the vomiting always reared it's ugly head.
I was a freakin mess. At one point, I looked in the mirror when I stumbled into the bathroom to wipe my face off, and I hardly recognized myself. I really looked sick. My hair was all curly but a messy curly that if you stared at it too long, you'd be turned to stone.
And the face looking back at me looked so pale. Where did all of the blood go??? And my face was so skinny too.
Between the flu, having bronchitis, and this latest battle with a various stomach ailment, I may have lost a total of 25 to 30 pounds - no kidding...
So, there you have it. The Wicked Three Illnesses that wanted to kill me. But, it didn't. These different illnesses weren't expecting an awesome man like John by my side. (can I just add here, that John reminds me of Bruce Willis from Unbreakable, I mean he never gets sick!) But, John stayed by my side, as long as he was not working and he helped bring me ice for my head, he cleaned out the puke bucket for me. He would hold my hair back so no flakes of vomit would get into it. He took care of all the household chores and really spent alot of time with Olivia so she wasn't bothering me for anything...
I think next time I have a trio of infection, the first thing I am going to do is INSIST I go to the nearest ER. I am not sure I could fight anything off anymore. I think I have had my breaking point. The next time something goes wrong with me, I am just going to get a ride to the hospital...
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| Enemy |
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| Friend |
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| Enemy |
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| Friend |
Saturday, August 16, 2014
"And I'd Like to Thank All the Stupid People"
As far as stupidity goes, and even idiotic people go, I could rattle off names of people that I not only know, but are also in my family - and we're talking both sides of my family... They pretty much know who they are. Whether or not they read my blog posts on the other hand, I do not know. Nor do I care.
And when John and I discuss these stupid and idiotic people, we both just come to the conclusion that most of the people on my list shouldn't be getting as much thought as we are giving them.
We have so much more to worry about then the ignorance of people in our lives.
He's right.
He's so right...
Perhaps I put too much thought into smacking people upside their heads or simply just analyzing what these people do and say is taking too much of my time. Why should I give these unbalanced and rash people so much power? Why do I let them seep into my thoughts (certainly not on a daily basis, but more often than I should) and why, oh why do I even care?
I can tell you that I do care for a number of reasons.
The first reason is the most obvious one.
Some of the people on my "How Can People Be So Dumb?" list are members of my family. Some more closely related than others. And what do we do with family? We love them. We love them and we want to see these people succeed and have good lives.
But the decisions these people make are just so dumb and so "not thought out" that I am surprised to find they are still living and breathing next time I see them... No joke.
**Seriously, how some of them manage to even dress themselves is a shock to me...**
But, for the life of me, I cannot say that I understand why people are the way they are.
The ones that are really bad are the ones that are nice to your face, but mean and judgmental behind your back... Other examples of how foolish these people are, are the many bad decisions that they make for their lives, day after day and week after week, and month after month.... Again, how do they manage to even dress themselves each morning???
I really want to know... I suppose my burning question will never be answered...
As a woman of God, I can say these things without malice or ill intent.
I too was once fool hardy and I too made ludicrous choices for my own life. And as a direct result of these poorly executed ideas and thoughts, I have suffered and have paid very deep prices.
But, with each and every bad decision, I quickly learned to grow and I learned to behave and react in different ways.
Of course, that's what life is all about, isn't it?
To live your life, make certain compromises and then to learn from these either really awful judgments or really grand decisions. For example, if I prefer option A to option B, how would it make my life, or the lives around me different? How will making this determination affect those around me??
So, when I speak about these really crazy and insane decision makers in my life, I am not being mean. Just spewing out the truth. For those not yet fully immersed into the rabbit hole, you'll read this and probably smack yourself on the forehead and say, "Yup. She's right. I need to start making better choices."
But the majority of the people on my list are too far gone. They are sitting comfortably - for now - in their meaningless lives, thinking that either everyone else is at fault or that their lives are somehow good enough to keep going. To keep going making the poor and rash judgments and choices.
People who happen to be branded as stupid is often because it's the direct result of either one single massive bad choice or a whole bunch of little bad choices made time and time again.
I truly hope that these senseless and silly people will open their eyes though. One day (not too awfully far into the future) they will realize that being mean and being foolhardy in their lives not only makes people resent them, but also subtracts from the number of guests at their own funerals.
Like I said before, I am not being mean or hurtful - and should anyone reading this actually think this post is about you, it probably is - I'm just executing my right as an American to express my opinion and to memorialize my opinions onto my blog.
After all of this, you're might be thinking, "Does this girl have any friends? If she feels this way about everyone, how does she even get along with other people?"
I only have a select few of names on my list of utterly ridiculous people, and like I stated above, if you think you're included on that list, you probably are.
However, for the most part, I like to surround myself with good natured and honest humans. Though, it's not just humans of kindness that I prefer. I love most of the furry friends in my life as well. My four legged friends never ever lied to me, nor have they ever talked behind my back... (oooohhhh.... animals that act like humans. Great next blog post idea!!! LOL)
And let's not forget that the stupid morons in my life really deserve my thanks as well. For without them in my life, I wouldn't get to really appreciate those in my life that make me smile and those that make me miss them when I'm away from them.
Let me end with that...
A direct and heartfelt thanks to the people in my life that are so dumb and so idiotic, that without them, I couldn't enjoy those in my life who are truly kindred spirits and those who truly lift me up in solid and caring ways.
This goes out to the utterly stupid and highly ridiculous. Thanks!
Side note: This post isn't about anyone in particular. Just observations made in my 35 years on this planet. I come across total strangers every time I exit my house that could easily earn a spot on my "How Can People Be So Dumb" list. But, if you're thinking that this post is about you or you take offense, simply stop being so dumb. :)
And when John and I discuss these stupid and idiotic people, we both just come to the conclusion that most of the people on my list shouldn't be getting as much thought as we are giving them.
We have so much more to worry about then the ignorance of people in our lives.
He's right.
He's so right...
Perhaps I put too much thought into smacking people upside their heads or simply just analyzing what these people do and say is taking too much of my time. Why should I give these unbalanced and rash people so much power? Why do I let them seep into my thoughts (certainly not on a daily basis, but more often than I should) and why, oh why do I even care?
I can tell you that I do care for a number of reasons.
The first reason is the most obvious one.
Some of the people on my "How Can People Be So Dumb?" list are members of my family. Some more closely related than others. And what do we do with family? We love them. We love them and we want to see these people succeed and have good lives.
But the decisions these people make are just so dumb and so "not thought out" that I am surprised to find they are still living and breathing next time I see them... No joke.
**Seriously, how some of them manage to even dress themselves is a shock to me...**
But, for the life of me, I cannot say that I understand why people are the way they are.
The ones that are really bad are the ones that are nice to your face, but mean and judgmental behind your back... Other examples of how foolish these people are, are the many bad decisions that they make for their lives, day after day and week after week, and month after month.... Again, how do they manage to even dress themselves each morning???
I really want to know... I suppose my burning question will never be answered...
As a woman of God, I can say these things without malice or ill intent.
I too was once fool hardy and I too made ludicrous choices for my own life. And as a direct result of these poorly executed ideas and thoughts, I have suffered and have paid very deep prices.
But, with each and every bad decision, I quickly learned to grow and I learned to behave and react in different ways.
Of course, that's what life is all about, isn't it?
To live your life, make certain compromises and then to learn from these either really awful judgments or really grand decisions. For example, if I prefer option A to option B, how would it make my life, or the lives around me different? How will making this determination affect those around me??
So, when I speak about these really crazy and insane decision makers in my life, I am not being mean. Just spewing out the truth. For those not yet fully immersed into the rabbit hole, you'll read this and probably smack yourself on the forehead and say, "Yup. She's right. I need to start making better choices."
But the majority of the people on my list are too far gone. They are sitting comfortably - for now - in their meaningless lives, thinking that either everyone else is at fault or that their lives are somehow good enough to keep going. To keep going making the poor and rash judgments and choices.
I truly hope that these senseless and silly people will open their eyes though. One day (not too awfully far into the future) they will realize that being mean and being foolhardy in their lives not only makes people resent them, but also subtracts from the number of guests at their own funerals.
Like I said before, I am not being mean or hurtful - and should anyone reading this actually think this post is about you, it probably is - I'm just executing my right as an American to express my opinion and to memorialize my opinions onto my blog.
After all of this, you're might be thinking, "Does this girl have any friends? If she feels this way about everyone, how does she even get along with other people?"
I only have a select few of names on my list of utterly ridiculous people, and like I stated above, if you think you're included on that list, you probably are.
However, for the most part, I like to surround myself with good natured and honest humans. Though, it's not just humans of kindness that I prefer. I love most of the furry friends in my life as well. My four legged friends never ever lied to me, nor have they ever talked behind my back... (oooohhhh.... animals that act like humans. Great next blog post idea!!! LOL)
And let's not forget that the stupid morons in my life really deserve my thanks as well. For without them in my life, I wouldn't get to really appreciate those in my life that make me smile and those that make me miss them when I'm away from them.
Let me end with that...
A direct and heartfelt thanks to the people in my life that are so dumb and so idiotic, that without them, I couldn't enjoy those in my life who are truly kindred spirits and those who truly lift me up in solid and caring ways.
This goes out to the utterly stupid and highly ridiculous. Thanks!
Side note: This post isn't about anyone in particular. Just observations made in my 35 years on this planet. I come across total strangers every time I exit my house that could easily earn a spot on my "How Can People Be So Dumb" list. But, if you're thinking that this post is about you or you take offense, simply stop being so dumb. :)
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
The Looking Back on the Summer post...
It's mid August already and this summer has just flown by. I really cannot believe how fast the summers go, for me at least...
When you stop to think about it, and I mean really stop to think about how many summers go by and how many summers you actually get to enjoy - normal life span, is like 75 to 80 years old, longer if you're lucky. So, that is only 75 to 80 summers you have to enjoy. When you start to break it down like that, it gets a little depressing.
I am currently enjoying my 35th summer and like last summer, it is going by very quickly. Before I know it, Olivia will be going on to the 8th grade (WHAT? Did I just say the 8th grade???) Wow... Time is just that partner in life that doesn't wait for anybody...
So, this summer has been spent mostly on the river with John and other camping trips with him and my other family members. I certainly have been spending alot of times outside, more so then last year, that's for sure. I have been taking care of mosquito bites and poison ivy all summer long, or so it feels. But, that is just a clear indication as to how my summer has been going.
Olivia is mostly ready for her debut to the 8th grade. I still have to acquire a back pack for her, but that's easily accomplished at my local Walmart during one of our Wednesday night grocery runs. And I need to buy her the usual new socks and underwear for the upcoming school year. Socks and underwear that I'm sure will be lost to the dryer aliens once again this year. I'll be doing the laundry and start putting socks together just to find out that not a single one of them has a match... sigh... Those darned dryer one footed aliens...
When I stop to think about the shopping and endless meals that Olivia consumes, it makes me realize just how luck John and I are.
God certainly knew what He was doing when he blessed John and me with just the one child to raise and care for. I couldn't imagine back to school shopping for multiple children. When just shopping for one makes me want to rip my hair out! And perhaps it because I'm disabled and in a constant state of pain 24/7, but I honestly don't know if I could do this "back to school thing" for more than one teenager.
Anyway, during this post of looking back on the summer, it made me realize that it has been one year since that whole "family drama" thing... And a year since Olivia has even seen the whole family that brought on all the drama. I wonder if they realize it has been that long. I couldn't tell you how many emails I have written and then deleted and then re written and then deleted once again... I have much to say, but I never want to say it in an email. Just seems so, and what's the word I'm looking for here... so... so in concise. I want to say many things, but an email wouldn't do it to get my point across. And it's not that I want to be a "right" fighter, I just need to get things off of my chest before things will ever be "normal" again. I doubt highly that things will ever go back to being normal. I just think it's sad that it's been an entire year since they have seen or talked to Olivia. Well, that's if you don't count an hour or so inside of a loud restaurant where conversation is almost impossible anyway.
So, anyway, this summer has been an enjoyable one. (and no, it's not because of the lack of the family either)... It's just been spent outside, in the sun, underneath of the bright summer sky, looking up at trees and swatting flies sort of summer. We've tried our hands at fishing, and Olivia really likes doing that. She even caught a fish or two of her own. We've hung out with our good friend Mike too, alot this past summer. It's cool to see him and John compare camping gear and talk "shop" about different methods on making their winter trips more enjoyable.
Mom and dad have spent quite alot of time with Olivia. My mom has been helping Olivia deal with some of her "girl" troubles. You know how teenage girls can be. Petty and partial to say the least. But, my own words of advice hit a brick wall when it's flying towards Olivia's ears. She has stopped listening to my sage advice a long time ago. Sure, she still is sweet and kind hearted, but nowadays, her friends and her have been going back and forth between being BFF's and EFL's...
I was published over the summer, which I loved! And I think was the highlight of my year! I mean, to write and write and finally have someone include it in a literary magazine is just an incredible high that no drug (legal or not) can help you achieve.
Speaking of drugs... my pain management doctor has upped my pain meds and I think for now, I'm finally stabilized as far as outrageous pain is concerned. I fear though that this grand feeling of just "manageable" pain won't last. I know that when he has changed my meds up in the past, that the good feeling of having manageable pain only last a few weeks. This time, though, knock on wood, my pain level has been manageable for a couple of months now. Of course, I did have to add one more pill to my daily intake of medicines, but what's one more pill when I'm already taking so many?
Well, I guess that's it for now...
Gonna hit the hay and wait for another day, so to speak. Olivia has a well child exam in the morning, and at the moment, she isn't exactly "well." Her ears are bothering her again and I know I'll have to get the doctor to give her something for it. So, maybe she won't be able to bill the insurance company as a "well child" exam and we will need to reschedule that... Oh well...
Till next time, and thanks for reading...
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| John and Olivia fishing at the river |
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| my mom and me camping |
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| it rained alot of the time while we were camping... I mean ALOT |
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| cindy and me |
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| the group at Penn's Caverns |
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| fire time! |
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| ducks that John and I saw on a day trip to Scott's Run Lake |
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| Just a view on the lake from the canoe where John and I were for a few hours of alone time.... |
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| Ducks we saw on Scott's Run Lake |
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| in the canoe on Scott's Run Lake with John |
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| the campground was surrounded by stone roads |
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| Walking down alot of steps to go swimming with Olivia |
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| very scenic swimming |
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| my little fish in the lake |
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| the walk down to Penn's Caverns was a very long and steep one |
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| family shot |
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| One of the views from atop the mountain ... |
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| this past summer wasn't all fun times... a shot of me in the hospital with a severe viral infection, had me in for three days... |
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| John and Olivia singing to me on my birthday |
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| me and John on an overnight camping trip on the river... <3 |
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| Olivia and me about to embark on an overnight camping river trip with John this summer... |
Saturday, July 19, 2014
The Family that Camps Together
Most of you know that I recently returned from a family vacation. A mom and dad, siblings and their spouses and spawn sort of vacation.
And for the most of the time, it was an enjoyable, if not eye opening time had by me and my own immediate family. Specifically speaking, my own spawn, Olivia.
When I arrived at the campground - where cell service dies and nature takes over - after a three hour long trip that left my feet in such bad shape that I all I wanted to do was cry, I bit back the tears and said a happy and grateful hello to everyone as I saw them and as they arrived - car after filled up car. All of them smiling back and returning hugs and asking the same old questions, "How was the drive?" and "How have you been?"
Just three hours after arrival, a true test to the camper in everyone came in the way that only Mother Nature can give. Rain. And not just tiny annoying drops of drizzle either. I mean, heavy and torrential rain. Rain so hard that when my sister and her clan finally arrived, they sat in their van for a good solid hour till they felt comfortable enough to set up without getting too wet.
So, with 14 people, all getting wet and soaked underneath of one small canopy start talking and catching up, that's when the eye opening began - for me at least. It was a simple request. One, that as a mom I had every right to demand. It was a simple, "Take this umbrella, go out to my car, open it up and get a fresh change of clothes. Put them on and get warm and dry."
Sure, it's almost impossible to get warm and stay that way when the rain is relentless and unforgiving. But, Olivia was soaked to the bone in her clothing. And all I wanted to do was make sure she at least got a fresh change of clothes on. If nothing else, to make me feel better. Let's put aside the wet feeling and uncomfortable "ness" of being inside of wet clothes. And despite her wanting to appear tough in front of all of her cousins, I felt it necessary to put on some dryer clothing.
But, that's when it started.
The "it" in the above sentence refers to the mixture of misspoken or misinterpreted things said by either me or people around me. And days and days of it started to get rather annoying and very unpleasant.
Olivia eventually did go out to my car and eventually did put on dryer clothing, but it wasn't without argument from ~not just her~ but from others in the immediate ear shot of the whole mom-daughter battle of wills.
And when some of what got said mostly got put out of my mind (because let's face it, most of what comes out of my siblings mouths is either ignorance or plain stupidity) I did let some of the weeks goings on get under my skin.
I am not trying to be mean. Just stating facts about being a mom on a vacation ~a mom who is in at times unbearable pain~ but also being a single mom on a vacation (because poor John couldn't join us for this week of family fun) and having a teenager daughter to deal with. Although I must say, that even though Olivia is definitely a teenager and she does give me lip from time to time, her behavior out shined her cousins rowdy and (at times) unbelievable actions. Sure, girls mature faster than boys, but please, lets not make that the sole reason and only excuse for being rude and unthoughtful.
And it seems that whenever my whole family is together, that most of the other adults in the vicinity turn into the sole guardians of the two eldest cousins of Olivia's. When it comes to parenting the two boys, I have no doubt that my brother loves his kids, but is also totally blind to their behavior towards others.
I am not saying that he is a bad father. Nope, not at all. I know he would die for his kids. But he takes advantage of those who are around in his assumptions that we don't mind disciplining and watching after his children~ without a thanks or any gratitude at all. And I think that's what bothers me most of all.
John and I took (and still do) take great care in the raising of our only child, and we both know we aren't perfect. But we are definitely trying to be as present and as involved in her life as we can. No matter who is around to help us out.
So, as far as hanging with my whole family is concerned, I am going to take a nice long big break from it.
It's the little things that count ~at least to me.
And when I need to repeat the same sentence five times because I am being ignored or when I am just forgotten about all together (with the exception of one or two) "Please, don't let me stop you from your fun. I am just trying to fix my broken back pack here. But hurry up, you may miss something vital if you don't bother to wait for everyone in your party"
I don't know. It seems to me that I wouldn't have even been missed had I stayed home with my husband. A decision that wasn't made lightly either.
My family has no idea the lengths my husband goes to when it comes to me. What he does to make sure I am comfortable and in as little agony as possible. I made the decision to be with my family, (people I do love, but who are entirely ignorant to my health needs and pain) and left the only person who really and genuinely cares for me. I left him behind to get talked down to, to get disrespected, to be belittled and to be unheard.
A mistake that I can promise you will not happen again.
It seems that the family I love and adore are the quickest to let me down.
And no, it wasn't constant let downs. And no, the entire trip wasn't horrible. In fact, I have some fond memories of this past week with the fab five and their spouse's and spawn. And it wasn't everyone either that let me down. Just a few here and there ~ just a few people that left me more opened eyed than before this trip happened.
Like I said, next time the entire family is getting together and John cannot make it, I will not be attending. John is the only one that keeps me sane and collected when there is so many people talking at once. He is the only one that truly cares for me ~when I say care, I mean cares for me in the way a disabled person needs care...
I thought I did a good job of making it without him though. Some of the time, I didn't even need my walking cane. But, pain killers in high enough doses will do that to someone.
So, let me end this with this;
I do not hate anybody in my family. Siblings and newbies alike. I have a deep and unfailing love for everyone. I just know that the extended time with them has left me with hurt feelings (and perhaps it's because I have always worn my heart on my sleeve) and has also left me with more questions than answers. Questions like, "If I decided to stay home, and not killed myself on this trip, would I have even been missed???"
and
"Can I really count on everyone in my family when and if it really counted??"
Oh well.
I suppose every family has this problem. Someone who feels left out and perhaps unheard. I just never thought that someone would be me....
And for the most of the time, it was an enjoyable, if not eye opening time had by me and my own immediate family. Specifically speaking, my own spawn, Olivia.
When I arrived at the campground - where cell service dies and nature takes over - after a three hour long trip that left my feet in such bad shape that I all I wanted to do was cry, I bit back the tears and said a happy and grateful hello to everyone as I saw them and as they arrived - car after filled up car. All of them smiling back and returning hugs and asking the same old questions, "How was the drive?" and "How have you been?"
Just three hours after arrival, a true test to the camper in everyone came in the way that only Mother Nature can give. Rain. And not just tiny annoying drops of drizzle either. I mean, heavy and torrential rain. Rain so hard that when my sister and her clan finally arrived, they sat in their van for a good solid hour till they felt comfortable enough to set up without getting too wet.
So, with 14 people, all getting wet and soaked underneath of one small canopy start talking and catching up, that's when the eye opening began - for me at least. It was a simple request. One, that as a mom I had every right to demand. It was a simple, "Take this umbrella, go out to my car, open it up and get a fresh change of clothes. Put them on and get warm and dry."
Sure, it's almost impossible to get warm and stay that way when the rain is relentless and unforgiving. But, Olivia was soaked to the bone in her clothing. And all I wanted to do was make sure she at least got a fresh change of clothes on. If nothing else, to make me feel better. Let's put aside the wet feeling and uncomfortable "ness" of being inside of wet clothes. And despite her wanting to appear tough in front of all of her cousins, I felt it necessary to put on some dryer clothing.
But, that's when it started.
The "it" in the above sentence refers to the mixture of misspoken or misinterpreted things said by either me or people around me. And days and days of it started to get rather annoying and very unpleasant.
Olivia eventually did go out to my car and eventually did put on dryer clothing, but it wasn't without argument from ~not just her~ but from others in the immediate ear shot of the whole mom-daughter battle of wills.
And when some of what got said mostly got put out of my mind (because let's face it, most of what comes out of my siblings mouths is either ignorance or plain stupidity) I did let some of the weeks goings on get under my skin.
I am not trying to be mean. Just stating facts about being a mom on a vacation ~a mom who is in at times unbearable pain~ but also being a single mom on a vacation (because poor John couldn't join us for this week of family fun) and having a teenager daughter to deal with. Although I must say, that even though Olivia is definitely a teenager and she does give me lip from time to time, her behavior out shined her cousins rowdy and (at times) unbelievable actions. Sure, girls mature faster than boys, but please, lets not make that the sole reason and only excuse for being rude and unthoughtful.
And it seems that whenever my whole family is together, that most of the other adults in the vicinity turn into the sole guardians of the two eldest cousins of Olivia's. When it comes to parenting the two boys, I have no doubt that my brother loves his kids, but is also totally blind to their behavior towards others.
I am not saying that he is a bad father. Nope, not at all. I know he would die for his kids. But he takes advantage of those who are around in his assumptions that we don't mind disciplining and watching after his children~ without a thanks or any gratitude at all. And I think that's what bothers me most of all.
John and I took (and still do) take great care in the raising of our only child, and we both know we aren't perfect. But we are definitely trying to be as present and as involved in her life as we can. No matter who is around to help us out.
So, as far as hanging with my whole family is concerned, I am going to take a nice long big break from it.
It's the little things that count ~at least to me.
And when I need to repeat the same sentence five times because I am being ignored or when I am just forgotten about all together (with the exception of one or two) "Please, don't let me stop you from your fun. I am just trying to fix my broken back pack here. But hurry up, you may miss something vital if you don't bother to wait for everyone in your party"
I don't know. It seems to me that I wouldn't have even been missed had I stayed home with my husband. A decision that wasn't made lightly either.
My family has no idea the lengths my husband goes to when it comes to me. What he does to make sure I am comfortable and in as little agony as possible. I made the decision to be with my family, (people I do love, but who are entirely ignorant to my health needs and pain) and left the only person who really and genuinely cares for me. I left him behind to get talked down to, to get disrespected, to be belittled and to be unheard.
A mistake that I can promise you will not happen again.
It seems that the family I love and adore are the quickest to let me down.
And no, it wasn't constant let downs. And no, the entire trip wasn't horrible. In fact, I have some fond memories of this past week with the fab five and their spouse's and spawn. And it wasn't everyone either that let me down. Just a few here and there ~ just a few people that left me more opened eyed than before this trip happened.
Like I said, next time the entire family is getting together and John cannot make it, I will not be attending. John is the only one that keeps me sane and collected when there is so many people talking at once. He is the only one that truly cares for me ~when I say care, I mean cares for me in the way a disabled person needs care...
I thought I did a good job of making it without him though. Some of the time, I didn't even need my walking cane. But, pain killers in high enough doses will do that to someone.
So, let me end this with this;
I do not hate anybody in my family. Siblings and newbies alike. I have a deep and unfailing love for everyone. I just know that the extended time with them has left me with hurt feelings (and perhaps it's because I have always worn my heart on my sleeve) and has also left me with more questions than answers. Questions like, "If I decided to stay home, and not killed myself on this trip, would I have even been missed???"
and
"Can I really count on everyone in my family when and if it really counted??"
Oh well.
I suppose every family has this problem. Someone who feels left out and perhaps unheard. I just never thought that someone would be me....
Sunday, June 29, 2014
The Whistle Blower of the Schuylkill River
It was 11 pm or so on the island, along the Schuylkill River. Small fire going in the ring. Olivia already in her tent, sleeping soundly. Insects buzzing around every now and again. John and I are sitting by the fire just talking and watching the flames start to dim down.
Then something weird.
Normally, if you heard it, you wouldn't think twice about it. But, alone on an island, already dark outside, and thinking you're all alone - hearing that sound was sort of - well - weird.
A whistle. Like the ones you hear on a life vest. Some life vests come equipped with whistles the user can blow into to get attention of emergency personnel. We heard that whistle three times Friday night. Three different times.
Like I said. Usually, when you hear a whistle, it's easily identifiable. Like, a train's whistle. Or a coach or referee at a sporting event. But, after dark, alone on an island that is so remote that it's even hard to see from the river, hearing that very human sound makes one a little nervous. On edge even.
John doesn't spook. He's been camping - and I'm talking real time camping, none of this motor home and RV stuff. He's been camping in tents, hammocks, and without the pleasantries of bathrooms, electricity, and running water for many years. He knows what makes which noise and what you're supposed to hear out in the woods. So, when he turned to me with a concerned look of bewilderment on his face, my heart skipped a beat.
He looked at me and said, "What was that?"
I shrugged my shoulders and told him that I had no idea. I mean, I knew that we heard was a whistle, but as to why we hearing it though, I had no idea...
About a thousand thoughts start running through my mind. Like, is there someone else on this island? Some lost night fisherman that stumbled onto it completely by accident?
Let's break for a movie reference for a moment here:
Inigo Montoya: You are sure nobody's follow us?
Vizzini: As I told you, it would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways inconceivable. No one in Guilder knows what we've done, and no one in Florin could have gotten here so fast. Out of curiosity, why do you ask?
Inigo Montoya: No reason. It's only... I just happened to look behind us and something is there.
Vizzini: What? Probably some local fisherman, out for a pleasure cruise, at night... in... eel-infested waters...
Anyway, there were literally a thousand different reasons why we could have been hearing a whistle. And most of those scenarios were creepy to say the least. We discussed some of the more reasonable explanations for some time before we decided that we were just too tired to care.
So, we climbed into our hammocks for the night and were determined to get some sleep. After all, what's to be afraid of? We had many usable weapons on hand, had we needed them. But, alas, that night, there was no need for picking up the fire poker in order to beat someone's brains in.
Other than the strange noises we heard after the sun had set (and believe me, the mysterious whistle wasn't all we heard either) we had a really nice time camping. It's nice to get away for a night or two, out into nature. Getting eaten alive by mosquitoes and imagining bludgeoning someone to death for blowing a whistle is always something fun to do when otherwise bored at home.
We ate most of our Mountain House meals while we were away. And we stuffed ourselves with marshmallows till we felt sick to our stomachs. All fun. All needed.
Next time we go away, we are going to camp on a different island. No, we weren't scared off by the whistle blower... It's just that we've been going back to this island time and time again, and we feel that we need a change of scenery from our ....... change of scenery. If you get what I mean, and I think that you do...
We found out that Olivia isn't the happiest camper in the world. She (and let's see if I can directly quote our 13 year old attitude filled teenager here) "hates bugs" and "is completely bored" and "uncomfortable" when she joins us for camping.
Next time we venture out, she will be staying with my folks. Maybe my sister could take her for a couple of nights and let her swim... But, she definitely won't be joining us next time. Don't get me wrong, she will be coming with us most of the time, but next time, it's just going to be John and me.
Some pictures are below... Enjoy....
Oh yeah, almost forgot...
John chopped down a tree... The tree didn't need to necessarily come down, but it made him so uncomfortable because he thought it was rotted enough to fall on top of one of us... So, he chopped it down before setting up camp. Talk about fun!
Thanks for reading, as always. And take care!
Then something weird.
Normally, if you heard it, you wouldn't think twice about it. But, alone on an island, already dark outside, and thinking you're all alone - hearing that sound was sort of - well - weird.
A whistle. Like the ones you hear on a life vest. Some life vests come equipped with whistles the user can blow into to get attention of emergency personnel. We heard that whistle three times Friday night. Three different times.
Like I said. Usually, when you hear a whistle, it's easily identifiable. Like, a train's whistle. Or a coach or referee at a sporting event. But, after dark, alone on an island that is so remote that it's even hard to see from the river, hearing that very human sound makes one a little nervous. On edge even.
John doesn't spook. He's been camping - and I'm talking real time camping, none of this motor home and RV stuff. He's been camping in tents, hammocks, and without the pleasantries of bathrooms, electricity, and running water for many years. He knows what makes which noise and what you're supposed to hear out in the woods. So, when he turned to me with a concerned look of bewilderment on his face, my heart skipped a beat.
He looked at me and said, "What was that?"
I shrugged my shoulders and told him that I had no idea. I mean, I knew that we heard was a whistle, but as to why we hearing it though, I had no idea...
About a thousand thoughts start running through my mind. Like, is there someone else on this island? Some lost night fisherman that stumbled onto it completely by accident?
Let's break for a movie reference for a moment here:
Inigo Montoya: You are sure nobody's follow us?
Vizzini: As I told you, it would be absolutely, totally, and in all other ways inconceivable. No one in Guilder knows what we've done, and no one in Florin could have gotten here so fast. Out of curiosity, why do you ask?
Inigo Montoya: No reason. It's only... I just happened to look behind us and something is there.
Vizzini: What? Probably some local fisherman, out for a pleasure cruise, at night... in... eel-infested waters...
Anyway, there were literally a thousand different reasons why we could have been hearing a whistle. And most of those scenarios were creepy to say the least. We discussed some of the more reasonable explanations for some time before we decided that we were just too tired to care.
So, we climbed into our hammocks for the night and were determined to get some sleep. After all, what's to be afraid of? We had many usable weapons on hand, had we needed them. But, alas, that night, there was no need for picking up the fire poker in order to beat someone's brains in.
Other than the strange noises we heard after the sun had set (and believe me, the mysterious whistle wasn't all we heard either) we had a really nice time camping. It's nice to get away for a night or two, out into nature. Getting eaten alive by mosquitoes and imagining bludgeoning someone to death for blowing a whistle is always something fun to do when otherwise bored at home.
We ate most of our Mountain House meals while we were away. And we stuffed ourselves with marshmallows till we felt sick to our stomachs. All fun. All needed.
Next time we go away, we are going to camp on a different island. No, we weren't scared off by the whistle blower... It's just that we've been going back to this island time and time again, and we feel that we need a change of scenery from our ....... change of scenery. If you get what I mean, and I think that you do...
We found out that Olivia isn't the happiest camper in the world. She (and let's see if I can directly quote our 13 year old attitude filled teenager here) "hates bugs" and "is completely bored" and "uncomfortable" when she joins us for camping.
Next time we venture out, she will be staying with my folks. Maybe my sister could take her for a couple of nights and let her swim... But, she definitely won't be joining us next time. Don't get me wrong, she will be coming with us most of the time, but next time, it's just going to be John and me.
Some pictures are below... Enjoy....
Oh yeah, almost forgot...
John chopped down a tree... The tree didn't need to necessarily come down, but it made him so uncomfortable because he thought it was rotted enough to fall on top of one of us... So, he chopped it down before setting up camp. Talk about fun!
Thanks for reading, as always. And take care!
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
The Grumpy Tomato
The joys of summer are here. Long days that seem to go on forever. Sleeping in till all hours of the day, sometimes till 10 or 11 in the morning. Sitcom reruns. Little trips on the river or on the trail. Sitting inside to enjoy the air conditioning, but also being outside in the sun. The smell of sunscreen and aloe vera gel alike...
All the joys of summer.
Sigh...
Although Olivia doesn't think so anymore.
The tears on her face as soon as her friend left from dropping her off said it all.
"Mommy, I hurt so bad!"
"I gave you two bottles of sunscreen and even gave you a demonstration as to how to apply it. Why do you look like a grumpy tomato?"
She immediately broke down and started to bawl.
Can't do anything about the past, but sometimes that child should start listening instead of just saying, "Yeah."
She went swimming two days in a row at a friends house. I made sure to pack her bag with plenty of sun block and I even showed her how to correctly apply it. I also told her to have her friend help her with the back so that her back wouldn't get sun burnt either. I gave her both the spray on kind and the rub on kind. Just so that I could cover any bases.
Did she listen?
Not really, no.
She applied it once, and that was it. Perhaps I should have stressed the "re-application" part more than 5 or 6 times. Maybe it would have sunk in at time 7. I don't know... Maybe she just likes pain.
Her tears tell me that she doesn't like pain. They tell me so much more than, "It hurts to move at all."
Her tears tell me that she's sorry she didn't heed my advice. They tell me how sorry she is that she didn't use enough sunblock. They tell me that she won't be making this same mistake twice this year. They tell me that she has learned her lesson.
Today's agenda includes application after application of aloe vera gel. Some Ibuprofen for the pain and maybe something tonight to help her sleep. Lots of cold (but not frozen) compresses and many hours of TV time.
I do feel quite badly for her. No good mother wants to see her child in so much agony and discomfort. It rips a big chunk of my soul every time she uses her muscles to do anything. I mean she winces when she puts on deodorant. Poor girl...
But, there's that tiniest of tiny voice in my head saying, "Hmm... I guess I'm not so full of crap now. Mommy was right, and you should have listened." I will never say those words aloud. She's suffering so much that adding to it would just be torturing the sad and grumpy tomato that my daughter has become...
But, one of these days, probably *way* in the future, when she's holding a baby of her own, I'll hear those words...
Those words every mom yearns to hear...
"Mom, you have been right about everything."
That's when I finally realized my own mom wasn't full of it. That's the moment when all of her words of incredible wisdom and all of those "Because I said so" and "Because I'm your mom" came flooding to my brain...
I was holding Olivia and said (more to myself than anyone),
"Mom was right."
All the joys of summer.
Sigh...
Although Olivia doesn't think so anymore.
The tears on her face as soon as her friend left from dropping her off said it all.
"Mommy, I hurt so bad!"
"I gave you two bottles of sunscreen and even gave you a demonstration as to how to apply it. Why do you look like a grumpy tomato?"
She immediately broke down and started to bawl.
Can't do anything about the past, but sometimes that child should start listening instead of just saying, "Yeah."
She went swimming two days in a row at a friends house. I made sure to pack her bag with plenty of sun block and I even showed her how to correctly apply it. I also told her to have her friend help her with the back so that her back wouldn't get sun burnt either. I gave her both the spray on kind and the rub on kind. Just so that I could cover any bases.
Did she listen?
Not really, no.
She applied it once, and that was it. Perhaps I should have stressed the "re-application" part more than 5 or 6 times. Maybe it would have sunk in at time 7. I don't know... Maybe she just likes pain.
Her tears tell me that she doesn't like pain. They tell me so much more than, "It hurts to move at all."
Her tears tell me that she's sorry she didn't heed my advice. They tell me how sorry she is that she didn't use enough sunblock. They tell me that she won't be making this same mistake twice this year. They tell me that she has learned her lesson.
Today's agenda includes application after application of aloe vera gel. Some Ibuprofen for the pain and maybe something tonight to help her sleep. Lots of cold (but not frozen) compresses and many hours of TV time.
I do feel quite badly for her. No good mother wants to see her child in so much agony and discomfort. It rips a big chunk of my soul every time she uses her muscles to do anything. I mean she winces when she puts on deodorant. Poor girl...
But, there's that tiniest of tiny voice in my head saying, "Hmm... I guess I'm not so full of crap now. Mommy was right, and you should have listened." I will never say those words aloud. She's suffering so much that adding to it would just be torturing the sad and grumpy tomato that my daughter has become...
But, one of these days, probably *way* in the future, when she's holding a baby of her own, I'll hear those words...
Those words every mom yearns to hear...
"Mom, you have been right about everything."
That's when I finally realized my own mom wasn't full of it. That's the moment when all of her words of incredible wisdom and all of those "Because I said so" and "Because I'm your mom" came flooding to my brain...
I was holding Olivia and said (more to myself than anyone),
"Mom was right."
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