4:00 a.m. and I can't sleep. Actually, I have been asleep for about 4.5 hours and that seems to be all I can get in. My mind is all over the place. So much has been happening and I have to admit that I am quite anxious.
I am so very close to getting answers that I have been looking for. For years. At the same time, even though I have been reassured that this will not be the case, I am afraid of no answers, again, at all. I am stuffing anger and frustration down like an awful meal at a very kind friends house. Trying to ignore how bad it tastes and can feel it about to erupt at any time. I am waiting. And Lord knows, I suck at that.
I have been feeling awful, crappy, honestly for a very long time. The worst of it being the past eight plus months. If it were just me, if nobody depended on me. If I wasn't a mother and a wife, among other things, it would be easier. But I, like most people, hate to disappoint. I hate to deliver any less than what is expected of me. So feeling like this, puts me in an awful position and often makes me feel much frustration. That smile on my face...not sure, some days, how I get it there. Wait. I do. My kids. The absolute love for my three beautiful children. I don't want to nor can they afford for me to fail them.
For the past three weeks I have been on this incredible ride. All of the sudden there is this acute awareness that there has been and is something really going on with me. My body is being tested at constantly changes levels of steroids. With this has been the reality that I have to really check in. Get over the fear that I will be, once again, given the shoulder shrug as to what is going on with me. There has been this chatter...with nothing coming of it, of a couple of autoimmune diseases. But, hey, I know that my doc is dealing with this with another patient. If it was to be true, there is no way he'd miss it right? Especially when he questioned it so many months ago. Right? I mean, really, if there were suspicion, he would have addressed it, right. Wrong.
I was told, at first, that the exhaustion was due to the "virus" (they think) that I had over the winter. You know, no biggie, a little fluid around the heart and lungs. A month or so later, when I still was struggling greatly, the answer was that I was probably not moving around as much because of the unexplained whatever (they never had an answer) from the month or so prior. Really? Because I have three kids (that's the least of my crazy life). Not moving? Enough? I wish I would have told him to kiss my ASS! But, once again, I did not push. He's the doc, right? He has my charts, labs, etc. He knows. Right...
Just so we are clear, I know that doctors are NOT magicians or miracle workers. For the most part, I love my practice. I trust them with my children's health. But, there have been some changes there. Some not so desirable. I am not the only one with this complaint. I will also share that at a very high point of frustration, about a month or so ago, I called the office and expressed this. I was angry. They agreed that my concerns were brushed off where they shouldn't have been. They told me that I should have called back in and expressed this sooner. I wanted to let them know that I was beginning to feel like a complainer, that I wasn't being taken seriously because I was an overweight, busy mom. They said, "We know our frequent flyer's, our complainers. You are not now or have ever been one." There was admission that the docs have about 15 minutes per patient and unfortunately, some get lost in the shuffle. Assumptions are made. For me, this is a really bad combination. If I even begin to sense that the docs think it is no big deal, I back off. I am afraid of sounding like, well, a complainer. I know that this is my fault. However, I did an awful lot of pushing this year. Which is very hard for me to do. That is how bad I was feeling.
I decided to take matters into my own hands. I am glad I did. Can't imagine what I would be feeling like right now if I didn't. After complaining, a lot, of all over joint pain, I was given a script for Prednisone. In that same visit, after insisting to them that they let me pee in a cup (they were convinced, again, that my flank pain was muscle related. I knew they were wrong), they came back and said, indeed, the infection was back and that I had to hold off on the Prednisone until the kidney infection was clear. Fine. That was in June. I waited. Kidney infections weren't getting better. Nobody had answers. Surprise. I was so sick of being sick. I called both my primary and nephrologist (as though I was a hostile kidnapper or something) and said, "I am taking the Prednisone (having very little faith that anything would actually come of it). I don't care any more. I can't go on like this." And so I did. Thank God I did.
Everything has gone from a slow moving pace to this frantic, "OMG! We need to get her fixed!" Seriously though. Whatever the outcome. Whichever category I fall into, I am alright with that. You see...I will have a PLAN! That is the part that is killing me. Just tell me what I am dealing with and lets move on. Move forward. I don't like this gear I am in and have grown quite restless with the scenery.
With a few exceptions, I am not really all that bummed with what I am most likely facing. The reality is that I have had this for what seems like forever. The best part is about to begin. The part where I don't have to feel like nobody gets it. I can and will allow myself rest, if needed, where needed and not feel guilty or weak about it. When I wake in the morning and feel that familiar feeling of, "I don't think I can do this today", I will be alright with that. I will do what I have always done. Get up and do it. It will be different because there won't be this helpless feeling that I usually keep stuffed inside. I will have a PLAN. Answers. Freaking ANSWERS! It won't be an excuse for me to expect any less of myself (if you ask around, the most common complaint is that I expect too much of myself). I know that I will test my limits. But I will understand those limits if they are not what I hoped or expected them to be. There are so many other diseases, illnesses out there. I'll take one of these.
I got an amazing e-mail from a friend. She has Lupus. She wrote to me of her story, her battle for a diagnosis and the course she has been on since. I admire her. She so much looks at this as I do. She wrote about the day she was diagnosed. She couldn't help but smile when the news was given to her that she had Lupus. I get that. I have been there (with other issues). I know that feeling. You can't help but smile. For me, that smile is a mixture of, "YES! ANSWERS! Somebody gets it, they believe me, I am NOT crazy!". And of course, to those who doubted..."IN YO FACE!!" And ultimately, knowing that a plan was soon to follow. A better life was to begin.
So the anxiety, is more because of the waiting. Also because, I want to inform myself, but am still struggling with that "what if they can't find anything". I don't like starting fires where they aren't needed. So as much as I think I have pulled my head out of the sand, I keep finding myself wanting to stick it back in. I have to keep reminding myself that, as the doctors keep putting it, "The red flags are up and flying!". I have to have faith. That's a tough one. Because I am exhausted and I don't know what's next if there is nothing there to be found. Understand that I have been dealing with unexplained medical issues for nearly 16 years. Not saying that they are all related, though, I suppose they could be. But so many unexplained things. So much head scratching and guessing. With no answers. This is where my fear stems from.
So, as crazy as it is, my fear does not lay in the final diagnosis, it lies in not having one at all. I am not hoping for illness. I am there. Just answers and a plan. So I can be all I am needed to be.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Tic-Tok...
So clearly this blog has not gone in the direction it was originally intended to. I offer no apology for this because it has been a release for so many issues. I know that I am not alone in this and that most likely, those issues, they contribute in some way to my current shape (ha-ha). There is something freeing about putting down, in writing, what is going on. To look back and read my previous posts, is actually pretty empowering, for me. I see where I have been and how strong I am. Somehow, in writing, I am very clearly able to express what is in my heart and head. I don't care who reads it. There are no lies. If you don't like it, you should examine why. Shame can come in many forms. Just like hurt. I usually get angry before I realize that what I truly am is, well hurt.
I had no intention of releasing some of what I have. But, this blog, had been named, "Putting it ALL Out There". As with any injury, a Band-Aid will work, temporarily, but if you don't examine how it happened, you risk the injury again. That's where I was stuck. This issue with weight, we all know is not about the number on the scale or the image in the mirror. It is about the person, carrying all that extra poundage. There is no blame. Nobody sat there and shoved the food in. I did this. I know that. Granted, I do have a few factors contributing. I understand, however, that had I made myself a priority sooner, maybe things would not have gotten so out of hand. That is all on me. I know that I have a tendency to put too much ahead of myself. We all do that. Especially women. We look to our left, right, in front of, and behind to see if we are measuring up to some ridiculous standard. Although, women are incredibly smart, if were were smarter, we would look closer and see that nobody is really getting it all done. We all have areas of failure. It is how we accept those areas. What I mean is that I would sit there and beat myself up relentlessly about all that I wasn't able to get done. Now I know that nobody gets it all done. It is how you choose to deal with that. I am learning.
For all the craziness that has been my life, I turned out alright. I am amazingly blessed with some beautiful people in my life. They are my brass rings. I am sure that I have said this before, I'll say it again. I believe that everything in life happens for a reason. A very smart friend of mine added something that makes that statement even better. She said, "We may never know or understand the reason for it, but there is a reason." . That made it all the better for me. Because as much as I believed that there is a reason for everything, the "why" always bothered me. In my situation, I have always thought that my purpose was to end a cycle and to prepare me for, give me the emotion to, raise my children. One in particular. I know I was right. Because it was actually said to me that he may not have fared as well in the environment that was my childhood. I know that is true. I also believe that it is what you make of the situation, once you are freed from it. That's is where I have been for a long time now. It hasn't been easy, because I find it easy for me to empathize on an unhealthy level. Sometimes, an all consuming level. There needs to be a distance so that I can remain objective and guide or care as needed. That takes time to learn. It is a painful lesson.
Healing. I think that is path I have been on over the past year. First with the recognition that I am neither truly happy or healthy in this state and that I needed to do something about it. Secondly with the truth that I was putting myself, for the most part, in that unhealthy state. Ultimately, I am responsible for me.
At a crazy chance the other day, I was sitting and folding laundry. I picked up the remote and started to flick through the channels. Since we don't have cable, this was a short experience. I saw Oprah. Didn't think she was on anymore...however, there she was (a REASON, perhaps?). It was a "Look at me! I lost XXX pounds!" episode. Blah blah blah blah blah. I sighed. Really? Now? I need this like another pair of sock to match! I was just about to change the channel when one of the women were asked by Oprah what the change was. The woman's reply, "I realized my life was running me and I wasn't running my life.". AHA! There it was! I was clutching an unfolded item and just sat there while her words ran through my head, over and over and over. That is exactly how I feel!
I want to run my life. I want to flip it around. The best I can describe this is as is labor. Sorry, but it is perfect. When you are having a contraction, the game, the rule is to stay on top of it, stay ahead of it...don't let it get above your level of control. Otherwise...you will loose control and the pain is overwhelming and exhausting. You become drained and unable to focus for the next one. And there WILL be a next one! I know this...I was good at this! Trust me, between child labor, gall bladder disease, rupturing cysts and kidney spasms...I am damn good at this! This is what I need! Now, how do I apply this to life?
Right now, to keep you updated, I am still not in a most healthy state. Currently, I am taking steroids. It was a shot in the dark to see what would happen if we tried. OMG! I feel/felt AMAZING! I could move. I was a REAL mom. The stairs weren't a painful obstacle and the cane at my bedside was beginning to collect dust. I could stand from a sitting position, without pain and I could open and close my hands. However, that was for 5 days. On day 7 (there was no wean down) I hit the wall. My body started to cease up and I felt awful. My lungs felt as though they were being squeezed. I have been put on to wean down again until I can get into the Rheumatologist (not until 10/01, they are working on getting me in sooner). I can feel the clock ticking and my body is already reacting to the weaning process. I am not a medicine person. This is one of two drugs that have ever scared me to be without. I understand the risks of steroid treatment and that scares me too. BUT...the feeling of only slight discomfort...and the look of my ankles...I HAVE ankles again! They are cute in their non-swollen state! Not only did the meds take care of the joint pain, but I haven't had ANY kidney issues and there was another issue that was cleared up as well...had that one since a teenager (stomach issues)! Again though, I wish I could express to you the fear I have of the pain returning. It is very stressful. There is so much I want to do. Tic. Tok.
I guess the point of this somewhat random topic blog is to let you all know that I have not forgotten and I have not given up, still. This journey has been more of a process than I bargained for. I am alright with that. Except for this nearly 9 month illness track I can't find my way off of. Again, a reason for everything, right? I hope that the reason for all this is that, in my journey, I can help someone else too. If it counts for anything, I have had a great loss in the time since I started this. Nothing measurable on a scale. Hugely immeasurable lessons in life.
Next lesson: Learning to run my life....
I had no intention of releasing some of what I have. But, this blog, had been named, "Putting it ALL Out There". As with any injury, a Band-Aid will work, temporarily, but if you don't examine how it happened, you risk the injury again. That's where I was stuck. This issue with weight, we all know is not about the number on the scale or the image in the mirror. It is about the person, carrying all that extra poundage. There is no blame. Nobody sat there and shoved the food in. I did this. I know that. Granted, I do have a few factors contributing. I understand, however, that had I made myself a priority sooner, maybe things would not have gotten so out of hand. That is all on me. I know that I have a tendency to put too much ahead of myself. We all do that. Especially women. We look to our left, right, in front of, and behind to see if we are measuring up to some ridiculous standard. Although, women are incredibly smart, if were were smarter, we would look closer and see that nobody is really getting it all done. We all have areas of failure. It is how we accept those areas. What I mean is that I would sit there and beat myself up relentlessly about all that I wasn't able to get done. Now I know that nobody gets it all done. It is how you choose to deal with that. I am learning.
For all the craziness that has been my life, I turned out alright. I am amazingly blessed with some beautiful people in my life. They are my brass rings. I am sure that I have said this before, I'll say it again. I believe that everything in life happens for a reason. A very smart friend of mine added something that makes that statement even better. She said, "We may never know or understand the reason for it, but there is a reason." . That made it all the better for me. Because as much as I believed that there is a reason for everything, the "why" always bothered me. In my situation, I have always thought that my purpose was to end a cycle and to prepare me for, give me the emotion to, raise my children. One in particular. I know I was right. Because it was actually said to me that he may not have fared as well in the environment that was my childhood. I know that is true. I also believe that it is what you make of the situation, once you are freed from it. That's is where I have been for a long time now. It hasn't been easy, because I find it easy for me to empathize on an unhealthy level. Sometimes, an all consuming level. There needs to be a distance so that I can remain objective and guide or care as needed. That takes time to learn. It is a painful lesson.
Healing. I think that is path I have been on over the past year. First with the recognition that I am neither truly happy or healthy in this state and that I needed to do something about it. Secondly with the truth that I was putting myself, for the most part, in that unhealthy state. Ultimately, I am responsible for me.
At a crazy chance the other day, I was sitting and folding laundry. I picked up the remote and started to flick through the channels. Since we don't have cable, this was a short experience. I saw Oprah. Didn't think she was on anymore...however, there she was (a REASON, perhaps?). It was a "Look at me! I lost XXX pounds!" episode. Blah blah blah blah blah. I sighed. Really? Now? I need this like another pair of sock to match! I was just about to change the channel when one of the women were asked by Oprah what the change was. The woman's reply, "I realized my life was running me and I wasn't running my life.". AHA! There it was! I was clutching an unfolded item and just sat there while her words ran through my head, over and over and over. That is exactly how I feel!
I want to run my life. I want to flip it around. The best I can describe this is as is labor. Sorry, but it is perfect. When you are having a contraction, the game, the rule is to stay on top of it, stay ahead of it...don't let it get above your level of control. Otherwise...you will loose control and the pain is overwhelming and exhausting. You become drained and unable to focus for the next one. And there WILL be a next one! I know this...I was good at this! Trust me, between child labor, gall bladder disease, rupturing cysts and kidney spasms...I am damn good at this! This is what I need! Now, how do I apply this to life?
Right now, to keep you updated, I am still not in a most healthy state. Currently, I am taking steroids. It was a shot in the dark to see what would happen if we tried. OMG! I feel/felt AMAZING! I could move. I was a REAL mom. The stairs weren't a painful obstacle and the cane at my bedside was beginning to collect dust. I could stand from a sitting position, without pain and I could open and close my hands. However, that was for 5 days. On day 7 (there was no wean down) I hit the wall. My body started to cease up and I felt awful. My lungs felt as though they were being squeezed. I have been put on to wean down again until I can get into the Rheumatologist (not until 10/01, they are working on getting me in sooner). I can feel the clock ticking and my body is already reacting to the weaning process. I am not a medicine person. This is one of two drugs that have ever scared me to be without. I understand the risks of steroid treatment and that scares me too. BUT...the feeling of only slight discomfort...and the look of my ankles...I HAVE ankles again! They are cute in their non-swollen state! Not only did the meds take care of the joint pain, but I haven't had ANY kidney issues and there was another issue that was cleared up as well...had that one since a teenager (stomach issues)! Again though, I wish I could express to you the fear I have of the pain returning. It is very stressful. There is so much I want to do. Tic. Tok.
I guess the point of this somewhat random topic blog is to let you all know that I have not forgotten and I have not given up, still. This journey has been more of a process than I bargained for. I am alright with that. Except for this nearly 9 month illness track I can't find my way off of. Again, a reason for everything, right? I hope that the reason for all this is that, in my journey, I can help someone else too. If it counts for anything, I have had a great loss in the time since I started this. Nothing measurable on a scale. Hugely immeasurable lessons in life.
Next lesson: Learning to run my life....
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Bite Your Tongue!
The past couple of weeks have been quite incredible. Actually, I could say that about this past year. I have this strength, that others very close to me are confident I have always had. I can't say I ever really thought so. Looking back, I should admit that I have always been strong. In the past that strength was used where I needed it most, without me realizing. It is what made me who I am today, what saw me through many rough times. That strength was what made me stand and not crumble in the face of life's awful realities. It has always been there. I just needed to shake the crap off of it.
I constantly find myself conflicted, about who I am. At the core of that are the unpleasant things that have been said to me in my life. Harsh, sometimes hateful things no child should ever have to hear. Those words stick with you and echo in your mind. In those moments, it is hard to believe anything else to be true. Mostly because they came from a source that was supposed to be of unconditional love. I have to work very hard to shake those words and sometimes relive what was really going on to remind myself that those words should have NEVER been spoken. You would think that was enough. It's not. I am so blessed to have many around me, who think a lot of me. I am sometimes so uncomfortable with their compliments, because as each kind word pours out, the harsh echoes in my head bounce relentlessly as if I am not to forget who I really am.
The words will always be there. It is the power I struggle to take from them. Because they were delivered by someone that I sought much needed approval from, for years. I can honestly say I no longer require approval or praise from that source. I have forgiven, but my heart still hurts. That is OK. That hurt makes me a more compassionate person and sometimes, I think, really good at examining all sides of a situation. I have been told I am a great listener, I think my experience has lended to that attribute as well. Not being heard, is an awful feeling. So I forgive. Forgetting is a whole other experience. You simply cannot control what your mind recalls. I look at it as a defense mechanism; remember, so this doesn't happen again.
Now, it's not that I think there are people out to get me, or anything like that. However, I have a tendency to want to fix and shield others from hurt. In the past, I was able to help some, but I also got burned. We all do. Life's lessons, I guess. There are things about all of us that draw certain others to us. I am loyal and honest. I am compassionate. I am a hard worker that will do whatever I can to help you. I want you to be happy. I want everyone to be happy. Sometimes these traits are a huge target. I have been hit many times. And I stand up for more. I am sorry, but I am not a fool, not any more.
Don't ask me to engage in your games because you know that I "understand" what you are going through. I am not responsible for your choices. Please don't try to make me feel guilty about that. I am done taking one for the team. It was a lousy team anyhow. Understand that I do love you, because that is who I am, but I am unsure that you truly deserve my love. I will continue to give it because I cannot control my heart and I don't have it in me to be anything but loving to you. Appreciate that and be proud of me for it. Know that this has to be incredibly hard for me. Understand me. Don't come to me, even though you know I'll most likely say yes. Because I will try very hard not to. Step back, look at what is happening here and show some compassion. I am more than fair to you, please be the same to me. Stop being so selfish. Listen, as I have listened to you. With an open mind please. I no longer have the desire to engage with a closed mind. I don't care how long you have been on this earth, there is always something to learn. Stop being so critical. Walk a mile, baby...or less. Know that I am fully aware of all that you have going on (and extend the same to me/us). I am sorry for that, but it is not for me to fix. Please stop being angry with me because of it. Stop. Look. See that it hasn't been easy and there will most likely more rough spots ahead. I will do the best I can to deal with them, will you? Lastly, (know that this is hard for me to write because I am not good at self praise) LOOK AT ME! Look at all I have come through and who I am. There are many who have been through less and come out far worse. Give me some credit. Stop trying to break me down. I no longer care if it makes you feel better about yourself (the only reason I can think someone would do these things). Find something else to make you feel better about yourself. It can no longer come at my expense.
The numbness has faded. The guilt no longer works. My focus remains on my family and those truly in need of what I have to offer. I find it funny how this seems to anger some. Oh well. I guess I would be upset too, if an old reliable toy broke down after years of abuse. The difference is, I would look at it and think about why it stopped working and maybe realize had I taken better care of it...I'd still have it. Others see it as a stupid broken toy. That's their perspective.
It is a hard thing for a person like me to say, "I don't care". But, for the most part, I don't. I know that things do, will and are going to get to me. The hope is not as much as they used to.
Right now, I feel like I have lost a good ten pounds, physically. Emotionally...immeasurable!
I constantly find myself conflicted, about who I am. At the core of that are the unpleasant things that have been said to me in my life. Harsh, sometimes hateful things no child should ever have to hear. Those words stick with you and echo in your mind. In those moments, it is hard to believe anything else to be true. Mostly because they came from a source that was supposed to be of unconditional love. I have to work very hard to shake those words and sometimes relive what was really going on to remind myself that those words should have NEVER been spoken. You would think that was enough. It's not. I am so blessed to have many around me, who think a lot of me. I am sometimes so uncomfortable with their compliments, because as each kind word pours out, the harsh echoes in my head bounce relentlessly as if I am not to forget who I really am.
The words will always be there. It is the power I struggle to take from them. Because they were delivered by someone that I sought much needed approval from, for years. I can honestly say I no longer require approval or praise from that source. I have forgiven, but my heart still hurts. That is OK. That hurt makes me a more compassionate person and sometimes, I think, really good at examining all sides of a situation. I have been told I am a great listener, I think my experience has lended to that attribute as well. Not being heard, is an awful feeling. So I forgive. Forgetting is a whole other experience. You simply cannot control what your mind recalls. I look at it as a defense mechanism; remember, so this doesn't happen again.
Now, it's not that I think there are people out to get me, or anything like that. However, I have a tendency to want to fix and shield others from hurt. In the past, I was able to help some, but I also got burned. We all do. Life's lessons, I guess. There are things about all of us that draw certain others to us. I am loyal and honest. I am compassionate. I am a hard worker that will do whatever I can to help you. I want you to be happy. I want everyone to be happy. Sometimes these traits are a huge target. I have been hit many times. And I stand up for more. I am sorry, but I am not a fool, not any more.
Don't ask me to engage in your games because you know that I "understand" what you are going through. I am not responsible for your choices. Please don't try to make me feel guilty about that. I am done taking one for the team. It was a lousy team anyhow. Understand that I do love you, because that is who I am, but I am unsure that you truly deserve my love. I will continue to give it because I cannot control my heart and I don't have it in me to be anything but loving to you. Appreciate that and be proud of me for it. Know that this has to be incredibly hard for me. Understand me. Don't come to me, even though you know I'll most likely say yes. Because I will try very hard not to. Step back, look at what is happening here and show some compassion. I am more than fair to you, please be the same to me. Stop being so selfish. Listen, as I have listened to you. With an open mind please. I no longer have the desire to engage with a closed mind. I don't care how long you have been on this earth, there is always something to learn. Stop being so critical. Walk a mile, baby...or less. Know that I am fully aware of all that you have going on (and extend the same to me/us). I am sorry for that, but it is not for me to fix. Please stop being angry with me because of it. Stop. Look. See that it hasn't been easy and there will most likely more rough spots ahead. I will do the best I can to deal with them, will you? Lastly, (know that this is hard for me to write because I am not good at self praise) LOOK AT ME! Look at all I have come through and who I am. There are many who have been through less and come out far worse. Give me some credit. Stop trying to break me down. I no longer care if it makes you feel better about yourself (the only reason I can think someone would do these things). Find something else to make you feel better about yourself. It can no longer come at my expense.
The numbness has faded. The guilt no longer works. My focus remains on my family and those truly in need of what I have to offer. I find it funny how this seems to anger some. Oh well. I guess I would be upset too, if an old reliable toy broke down after years of abuse. The difference is, I would look at it and think about why it stopped working and maybe realize had I taken better care of it...I'd still have it. Others see it as a stupid broken toy. That's their perspective.
It is a hard thing for a person like me to say, "I don't care". But, for the most part, I don't. I know that things do, will and are going to get to me. The hope is not as much as they used to.
Right now, I feel like I have lost a good ten pounds, physically. Emotionally...immeasurable!
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Dreams of Weed and A Plan...
I am frustrated beyond explanation. Thought about screaming, but that really, wouldn't solve anything. At this point, I am looking for results, more importantly, relief. You have no idea the restraint I am showing here. I want to drop every "bad" word there is. I am so tired of this. Last night, in my dream, I discovered weed (this from a girl who has never done ANY type of drug). I didn't smoke it. It didn't even look like it does in the show, Weeds. It was just there and somehow, I knew I had absorbed it. I felt FANTASTIC! Pain free and in my dream, I was sleeping peacefully, even waking to comment on it. Then I woke up. Nope. It surely was a dream. I was already dreading getting up and moving. Get up, go to the bathroom and be instantly consumed with the diminishing hope that today I will get some answers. Today, I know there will be no answers. Yesterday, I completed two more tests and have an MRI tomorrow. Maybe Thursday? I just need a plan...and a goal.
Stupid kidneys. Chronic infections with no real explanation. Bad, bring you to your knees, spasms, faithful evening low-grade temps, chills, freaking pain. Exhaustion. Crazy body aches. No, more than aches. Joint swelling, muscle and bone pain. Right now we have to treat the infections before the joint issues. One thing at a time.
I used to think and be told that I had great pain tolerance. I am no longer sure that is the case. I can feel all of this breaking me down. I try to remember that there are others, enduring so much more and wake to do it each day. That is endurance. I have to admit, I am ready to throw a temper tantrum. It has been 7 months now. I am tired.
I had a plan. I recovered from one illness that knocked me for a loop and was eager to start anew. Sometimes, I really wonder if this is all in my head. I mean, really, who gets this crap? I seriously start to wonder if I am crazy. I am not kidding here. We have all heard of the women who think they are pregnant and start to show signs of pregnancy, even when she is not at all pregnant. But, then I remember. The ER visits, the test concluding infections, the seemingly endless rounds of antibiotics, pain meds, the shots in the ass because I was so clearly uncomfortable. Enough already! I can't do this anymore. I don't want to.
I am now seeing a nephrologist. I have been repeating most of the same tests all saying the same. Great. So what is the plan? I NEED a plan. I am a planner, a doer. Lately I am more of a sitter, a wheel spinner. The past week and a half has been particularly rough as I currently have an infection and to get true results, I have to be off the antibiotic. I am in Ill Limbo. I hate this.
I HAD A PLAN! I know, I know...that expression, tell God your plans and watch Him laugh. Those earthquakes, that was God listening to my plan...I made Him fall on His ass, He was laughing so hard! Fantastic.
I am napping. I am talking crash hard 3-4 hour only waking because I had to pee naps. I am only able to do this once hubby gets home. Basic daily activities are exhausting to me. Sure, sure, I am overweight, you say. Really. Because before this all started I could run circles around some. I am a doer, a mover. I am NOT a sitter. Well, at least I wasn't.
I miss my kids. I feel like I am missing things. I want to do more. Don't get me wrong, I am sure that if I were anywhere near a healthy weight, I would not be as bad off. Where do I start? Shopping is a joke. Get in, get out. Our shelves are as low as they have ever been. After getting through the day, I am too mentally exhausted to put in the effort to create a real list. We have been rotating the same meals, for simplicity. Most nights, hubby comes home and cooks while I lay down. He also is doing the laundry and taking care of our children as well as other household chores. I cannot even begin to explain how hard all this is. Besides my children, he is another ray of light in my life. I am so lucky to have him. This brings on the guilt. Doesn't he deserve better? I feel like I am letting so many down.
I just want answers and a plan. I have always believed that things happen for a reason. I am and have been struggling with all of this for some time now.
I called a very good friend last week and just broke down. I had reached my limit that day. She pointed out that I have a tendency to not allow or believe myself to be sick unless it is confirmed by someone else. She is right. That adds to the stress because even though there are those around me who know that I have been sick off and on, they fail to treat me as so. There are no breaks. Then, in my (very messed up) head I think, "If they know I am sick and are still expecting the same, then maybe I am expecting too little of myself." And so I move on, feeling like crap and carrying great resentment. Deep down, I KNOW that I feel like crap and I should rest, but the feelings on the surface tell me not to disappoint. So I suck it up.. I know where this stems from. In the past, I have had significant illnesses, injuries, etc. When I brought them up, the basic response was that others have issues and they deal with them. I had responsibilities. In an effort to please, regardless of how I felt, I kept on. The ultimate validation was when a doctor would eventually say, "she needs surgery". Even then, post-op I was expected to tolerate too much too soon. I know...crazy. But these things stick. So much so, that I still act as though those expectations are still there. That is because they are. I place them on myself and crumble at the tiniest of signs that someone else expects the same, regardless. I wish I could just say to myself, "They are selfish and rely on you not to be.". It just isn't that easy. So, I rely on my good friend to shed some light and remind me that this is what is happening. But, here is the crazy, true side of what years of manipulation does to you. After admitting that she has a point, I later think that maybe I am seeing her point because that is the answer I wanted to hear. Commit me.
So, another day, no answers. I am hopeful that this time next week, I will have a plan. I need a plan. Have I said that before?
Stupid kidneys. Chronic infections with no real explanation. Bad, bring you to your knees, spasms, faithful evening low-grade temps, chills, freaking pain. Exhaustion. Crazy body aches. No, more than aches. Joint swelling, muscle and bone pain. Right now we have to treat the infections before the joint issues. One thing at a time.
I used to think and be told that I had great pain tolerance. I am no longer sure that is the case. I can feel all of this breaking me down. I try to remember that there are others, enduring so much more and wake to do it each day. That is endurance. I have to admit, I am ready to throw a temper tantrum. It has been 7 months now. I am tired.
I had a plan. I recovered from one illness that knocked me for a loop and was eager to start anew. Sometimes, I really wonder if this is all in my head. I mean, really, who gets this crap? I seriously start to wonder if I am crazy. I am not kidding here. We have all heard of the women who think they are pregnant and start to show signs of pregnancy, even when she is not at all pregnant. But, then I remember. The ER visits, the test concluding infections, the seemingly endless rounds of antibiotics, pain meds, the shots in the ass because I was so clearly uncomfortable. Enough already! I can't do this anymore. I don't want to.
I am now seeing a nephrologist. I have been repeating most of the same tests all saying the same. Great. So what is the plan? I NEED a plan. I am a planner, a doer. Lately I am more of a sitter, a wheel spinner. The past week and a half has been particularly rough as I currently have an infection and to get true results, I have to be off the antibiotic. I am in Ill Limbo. I hate this.
I HAD A PLAN! I know, I know...that expression, tell God your plans and watch Him laugh. Those earthquakes, that was God listening to my plan...I made Him fall on His ass, He was laughing so hard! Fantastic.
I am napping. I am talking crash hard 3-4 hour only waking because I had to pee naps. I am only able to do this once hubby gets home. Basic daily activities are exhausting to me. Sure, sure, I am overweight, you say. Really. Because before this all started I could run circles around some. I am a doer, a mover. I am NOT a sitter. Well, at least I wasn't.
I miss my kids. I feel like I am missing things. I want to do more. Don't get me wrong, I am sure that if I were anywhere near a healthy weight, I would not be as bad off. Where do I start? Shopping is a joke. Get in, get out. Our shelves are as low as they have ever been. After getting through the day, I am too mentally exhausted to put in the effort to create a real list. We have been rotating the same meals, for simplicity. Most nights, hubby comes home and cooks while I lay down. He also is doing the laundry and taking care of our children as well as other household chores. I cannot even begin to explain how hard all this is. Besides my children, he is another ray of light in my life. I am so lucky to have him. This brings on the guilt. Doesn't he deserve better? I feel like I am letting so many down.
I just want answers and a plan. I have always believed that things happen for a reason. I am and have been struggling with all of this for some time now.
I called a very good friend last week and just broke down. I had reached my limit that day. She pointed out that I have a tendency to not allow or believe myself to be sick unless it is confirmed by someone else. She is right. That adds to the stress because even though there are those around me who know that I have been sick off and on, they fail to treat me as so. There are no breaks. Then, in my (very messed up) head I think, "If they know I am sick and are still expecting the same, then maybe I am expecting too little of myself." And so I move on, feeling like crap and carrying great resentment. Deep down, I KNOW that I feel like crap and I should rest, but the feelings on the surface tell me not to disappoint. So I suck it up.. I know where this stems from. In the past, I have had significant illnesses, injuries, etc. When I brought them up, the basic response was that others have issues and they deal with them. I had responsibilities. In an effort to please, regardless of how I felt, I kept on. The ultimate validation was when a doctor would eventually say, "she needs surgery". Even then, post-op I was expected to tolerate too much too soon. I know...crazy. But these things stick. So much so, that I still act as though those expectations are still there. That is because they are. I place them on myself and crumble at the tiniest of signs that someone else expects the same, regardless. I wish I could just say to myself, "They are selfish and rely on you not to be.". It just isn't that easy. So, I rely on my good friend to shed some light and remind me that this is what is happening. But, here is the crazy, true side of what years of manipulation does to you. After admitting that she has a point, I later think that maybe I am seeing her point because that is the answer I wanted to hear. Commit me.
So, another day, no answers. I am hopeful that this time next week, I will have a plan. I need a plan. Have I said that before?
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Memories...
One of the most important and by far the most influential people in my life has been my Grandmother. Gram. Just the thought of her or simply saying, "Gram", gives me the warmest feeling. Her love, kindness and encouragement for me has, time and again, reminded me how blessed I am. I wonder if she ever knew what an incredible role she played in my life.
I am luckier than most, I guess, that my Gram is still with us. I have trouble saying this because, I am not sure, just how with us she really is. She has been, for sometime now, suffering from dementia. The worst has been the last year. She took a pretty harsh fall and hit her head, aggravating and advancing the disease further to her current state. Her short-term memory is poor. She still remembers most of us. It's the newest additions to the family that are lost to her. As well as dinner and lunch dates or parties that are on her calendar.
It has been a tough year for me. I have been racked with guilt. To the point where it is hard for me to see her. Although, I know I am not directly responsible for the state she is in today, I often find myself wondering, "if only".
I was always close with my Gram. And in the past ten years, since motherhood hit, even more so. After the age of 7 or so, I wasn't able to see her as much as I would have loved to. The years before then, we spent quite a bit of time together. I loved being at Grandma & Granddad's so much that, when it was time to leave, I would "forget" something so it could get mailed back to me. When it was returned, I would soak in the smell. It was a mixture of pipe tobacco (the sweetest smell!), wood (my grandfather was a carpenter) and just goodness that comforted me in so many ways. I knew her handwriting and felt instant love when a letter or card came addressed to me. My Grandparents had built a big red house out in the hills of Bolivar, NY. When you stepped onto the deck, you could hear the leaves softly rustle as a mild breeze moved through the trees just before it brushed across your cheeks and through your hair. Oh, and the scent of the fresh air! I loved it so much that, when my parents moved us from Tonawanda to Orchard Park (where they bought a house with wooded property), the first morning we awoke in the new house, I immediately went to the back porch to see if I could drink in the same sweetness as I enjoyed in Bolivar. It was pretty darn close, but could never be the same. Because at Grandma and Granddad's, I was safe and free.
When I was about 20, my Granddad (who was wonderful to me as well) passed away. While Gram remained in The Big Red House, she was rarely there. Shortly after my Granddad's passing, one of her daughters, my Godmother and Aunt, Kath, was diagnosed with cancer, again. Over the next seven years, Gram would dedicate her time to helping and caring for Kath, who lived in Kentucky. She did so until Aunt Kath lost her battle with breast cancer. Gram returned home. To The Big Red House where she carried on with her life. She enjoyed her local friends, meeting her kooky, lovable and fun sisters, visiting with her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She advised, listened, shared recipes and her love.
At some point in the past six years, Gram decided it was time to move. The house was getting too much for her. Although she had been told this long before, she needed to be ready herself. She was very independent. So, to my delight, she moved to an apartment that was only three miles from my house (By the way, I bought a house that offered that same sweet smell, almost). Everyone helped to get her settled. I was thrilled. I've got Gram!
My Grandmother and I are very much alike. We share the same interests such as photography, sewing, cooking, baking, planning and constructing. She was also very good at planning large meals and parties. She appreciated my knack for the fine details and always complimented me on how beautiful everything looked and tasted. She often took pictures of my place settings and food. Gram ALWAYS had a camera in her hand.
There is a funny story between Gram and me. When I was in 9Th grade and was taking Home Economics, we were to bring in a favorite recipe from home. The recipe I chose was Dutch Apple Cake. Gram made this all the time and I loved it! About 5 years ago, after apple picking, Gram came over for dinner. I asked her if she wanted to help make the Dutch Apple Cake. As we worked in the kitchen together she said, "Rach, have I ever told you where I got this recipe from?". I replied, "No Gram, I don't think you ever have!". She went on: "When I was in 8Th grade, this was the recipe the Home Economics teacher had us prepare.". You can imagine the surprise and laughter. Not to mention the irony! We had a special bond.
Unfortunately though, my time with Gram was slipping away quickly. She was becoming more and more forgetful. She wasn't taking her medicine (she was also diabetic) and that was making things worse. I wanted so badly to protect her. I wasn't willing to write her off. I knew how much her independence meant to her. I was doing as much as I could to help, knowing it would never be enough. My time was limited. I have 3 small children, a house and job. I was struggling to manage everything. She would come over here and I was so on edge. At times, it was like having another child. I was constantly watching so she wouldn't pick somebody up and then possibly fall. I knew that, aside from potential injuries to herself and the child, she would NEVER forgive herself if she had caused harm to a little one that she loved so much. I had to lie to her about why she couldn't be left with the children so I could run to the store. I hated all of this so much. I just wanted my Gram back!
I tried to organize visits, meal drops, medicine checks all with very little response. I knew I had to be careful. I didn't want the wrong response (prematurely sending her to a nursing home). I felt very strongly, that if I could keep her meds regulated, she would get better. There was just no way to make this happen. Remember, in all this, I am just the granddaughter who doesn't know what she is talking about. The truth was, I was the granddaughter who loved her greatly and wanted what she would have wanted for herself. There were others involved, well meaning. But, I still feel that I really knew my Grandmother and what she needed. NO! Wanted! I know that the others where also trying to do what was best. It was a hard situation.
Last September, I got a call from a sleepy, confused Gram. This was not abnormal, as she would often wake from a nap and call me to help her reorientate herself. She wanted to know where her kids were, she said they never came home from school. It was dinner/pick-up/karate time here so it was hectic. I reminded her that her children were grown and where they all were now. Convinced that this was a typical call, I wasn't alarmed. Then she said something that stuck with me, not immediately, but later. She said, "I think I hit my head, can you please give me a call in a couple of hours." I always did. So I said goodbye. After things died down, I sat to give Gram a call back. At first she seemed fine, but then she started talking about her children as though they were still little. Once she started talking about the fact that she thought she was in Mexico, bells went off. I called my mom, her sisters, her son. They, for the most part thought I was overreacting. At one point, my Aunt tried to convince me that she was fine. She had just spoken to Gram and she was doing dishes. "Fine!", I said, "But she thinks she's doing them in MEXICO!". It was well after 9:00 PM. I had to get over there. What if she really did hit her head, what if she had a concussion, what if she had a stroke? So I went.
I knocked on her door and she opened it with a great smile. I noticed the huge bruise on her forehead. I walked in and said, "Gram, please don't be upset with me. If this were me, I know that you would want the same. I am taking you to the hospital to be checked out." She smiled and said, "OK." She was in the middle of eating and I told her to go ahead and finish while I got her things in order (every time I picked her up we had to play Find the Purse. She would hide it for safety and then forget where!) . She sat and ate and we were chatting. When I found her things I was checking for ID, insurance cards, etc. She looked up at me and said, "I'll need my papers if we are returning to the US. We are in Mexico, right?" Thank you Aunt Kath! (Who's in Heaven). I needed that sign, that I was doing the right thing. Off we went...not before I noticed that there was only a quarter of the Lemon Meringue pie left. I had taken her shopping the day before and she bought it then. Remember, she is diabetic.
I went to the hospital with her and stayed until they sent me home for sleep at 6:00AM. The next morning my Uncle went in and I returned to visit later. I was so upset. She wasn't at all the same as when I had left her. I stayed there to wait for the doctor. Gram was in another time. She knew who I was, but in her mind, she was mothering her four young children. What had I done? Did she have a stroke and I didn't pick up on the signs? She told me she had a bump on her head. Why didn't I get to her sooner? This was my Gram. She cared for me and loved me and I let her down. I was too busy in my own little world and Gram needed me. She has never been the same since.
It is suspected that the combination of not taking her meds, along with eating too much of her favorite desert, caused her sugar to rise and she fell (in the bathroom) and hit her head on the sink or tub. It was a pretty good bump. I wasn't there. I could have brought her here for the day. I can't tell you how often these thoughts run through my mind. And when I see her, despite her smile and tight embrace for me, my heart breaks and I am filled with guilt and sadness. Where is Gram?
Gram never returned to her apartment. I had taken her out for the last time. In fact, she doesn't even recall that apartment or the three years she spent there. It is lost to her. She is now very happily residing in a beautiful assisted living facility. She has made friends (a special man friend!!) and tells me how she likes it there. She talks of selling her house and buying a new car. I have been drastically less worried about her. I know that she is getting her medicine and meals and constant companionship. I don't get to talk to her everyday like I used to because she is often not in her room when I call. That's OK. I know where she is. But I worry that she will forget about me. I also wonder if she feels that I have let her down. I miss her so much. I miss her advise. I miss everything.
Gram turned 80 last October. Before her fall, I was planning a party for her. It is hard for me to see others her age and older out and about, like she should be. Now I fill photo albums with pictures she has kept and taken over many years. Only a fraction of them were left here with me. She lights up each time I give her a new one. Although I know how completely unrealistic it is, part of me hopes that she looks through the memories and well...remembers. What I am grateful for is that she is happy in this state. That her life had these moments engraved in her mind to give her a home of comfort if this was what was to become of her. I know Gram is still here, but I miss her.
I am happy for the time that I had with Gram. I imagine her quickly moving from room to room and the wrinkles she would get in her forehead while in deep thought. Her endless lists and yellow notepads with pencils laid beside them, always ready for her next thought. The cup of coffee that she would loose throughout the house (just like me). The clicking noise she would make while she danced through the kitchen. The Polka music I more than tolerated. It is because of her, however, that I enjoy listening to Andre Rieu. She adored my children and they got to know her well. Gram was a Nursing Home Administrator for years and would often get upset with those that would mar the reputation and name of good nursing homes out there. I know that she must have seen the possibilities that lay before her. The saddest part of all this, is that she is healthy. It is her mind, that got her so far in life, that is now failing her.
I will most likely never know if there was something I could have done to prevent this and give her more of what she deserved. What I do know is that I will spend the rest of her life letting her know how much she means to me. I will laugh with her, listen to her, hold her and love her. The best that I know how. The way she did for me. I love you Gram.
Love,
Ra Ra
I am luckier than most, I guess, that my Gram is still with us. I have trouble saying this because, I am not sure, just how with us she really is. She has been, for sometime now, suffering from dementia. The worst has been the last year. She took a pretty harsh fall and hit her head, aggravating and advancing the disease further to her current state. Her short-term memory is poor. She still remembers most of us. It's the newest additions to the family that are lost to her. As well as dinner and lunch dates or parties that are on her calendar.
It has been a tough year for me. I have been racked with guilt. To the point where it is hard for me to see her. Although, I know I am not directly responsible for the state she is in today, I often find myself wondering, "if only".
I was always close with my Gram. And in the past ten years, since motherhood hit, even more so. After the age of 7 or so, I wasn't able to see her as much as I would have loved to. The years before then, we spent quite a bit of time together. I loved being at Grandma & Granddad's so much that, when it was time to leave, I would "forget" something so it could get mailed back to me. When it was returned, I would soak in the smell. It was a mixture of pipe tobacco (the sweetest smell!), wood (my grandfather was a carpenter) and just goodness that comforted me in so many ways. I knew her handwriting and felt instant love when a letter or card came addressed to me. My Grandparents had built a big red house out in the hills of Bolivar, NY. When you stepped onto the deck, you could hear the leaves softly rustle as a mild breeze moved through the trees just before it brushed across your cheeks and through your hair. Oh, and the scent of the fresh air! I loved it so much that, when my parents moved us from Tonawanda to Orchard Park (where they bought a house with wooded property), the first morning we awoke in the new house, I immediately went to the back porch to see if I could drink in the same sweetness as I enjoyed in Bolivar. It was pretty darn close, but could never be the same. Because at Grandma and Granddad's, I was safe and free.
When I was about 20, my Granddad (who was wonderful to me as well) passed away. While Gram remained in The Big Red House, she was rarely there. Shortly after my Granddad's passing, one of her daughters, my Godmother and Aunt, Kath, was diagnosed with cancer, again. Over the next seven years, Gram would dedicate her time to helping and caring for Kath, who lived in Kentucky. She did so until Aunt Kath lost her battle with breast cancer. Gram returned home. To The Big Red House where she carried on with her life. She enjoyed her local friends, meeting her kooky, lovable and fun sisters, visiting with her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She advised, listened, shared recipes and her love.
At some point in the past six years, Gram decided it was time to move. The house was getting too much for her. Although she had been told this long before, she needed to be ready herself. She was very independent. So, to my delight, she moved to an apartment that was only three miles from my house (By the way, I bought a house that offered that same sweet smell, almost). Everyone helped to get her settled. I was thrilled. I've got Gram!
My Grandmother and I are very much alike. We share the same interests such as photography, sewing, cooking, baking, planning and constructing. She was also very good at planning large meals and parties. She appreciated my knack for the fine details and always complimented me on how beautiful everything looked and tasted. She often took pictures of my place settings and food. Gram ALWAYS had a camera in her hand.
There is a funny story between Gram and me. When I was in 9Th grade and was taking Home Economics, we were to bring in a favorite recipe from home. The recipe I chose was Dutch Apple Cake. Gram made this all the time and I loved it! About 5 years ago, after apple picking, Gram came over for dinner. I asked her if she wanted to help make the Dutch Apple Cake. As we worked in the kitchen together she said, "Rach, have I ever told you where I got this recipe from?". I replied, "No Gram, I don't think you ever have!". She went on: "When I was in 8Th grade, this was the recipe the Home Economics teacher had us prepare.". You can imagine the surprise and laughter. Not to mention the irony! We had a special bond.
Unfortunately though, my time with Gram was slipping away quickly. She was becoming more and more forgetful. She wasn't taking her medicine (she was also diabetic) and that was making things worse. I wanted so badly to protect her. I wasn't willing to write her off. I knew how much her independence meant to her. I was doing as much as I could to help, knowing it would never be enough. My time was limited. I have 3 small children, a house and job. I was struggling to manage everything. She would come over here and I was so on edge. At times, it was like having another child. I was constantly watching so she wouldn't pick somebody up and then possibly fall. I knew that, aside from potential injuries to herself and the child, she would NEVER forgive herself if she had caused harm to a little one that she loved so much. I had to lie to her about why she couldn't be left with the children so I could run to the store. I hated all of this so much. I just wanted my Gram back!
I tried to organize visits, meal drops, medicine checks all with very little response. I knew I had to be careful. I didn't want the wrong response (prematurely sending her to a nursing home). I felt very strongly, that if I could keep her meds regulated, she would get better. There was just no way to make this happen. Remember, in all this, I am just the granddaughter who doesn't know what she is talking about. The truth was, I was the granddaughter who loved her greatly and wanted what she would have wanted for herself. There were others involved, well meaning. But, I still feel that I really knew my Grandmother and what she needed. NO! Wanted! I know that the others where also trying to do what was best. It was a hard situation.
Last September, I got a call from a sleepy, confused Gram. This was not abnormal, as she would often wake from a nap and call me to help her reorientate herself. She wanted to know where her kids were, she said they never came home from school. It was dinner/pick-up/karate time here so it was hectic. I reminded her that her children were grown and where they all were now. Convinced that this was a typical call, I wasn't alarmed. Then she said something that stuck with me, not immediately, but later. She said, "I think I hit my head, can you please give me a call in a couple of hours." I always did. So I said goodbye. After things died down, I sat to give Gram a call back. At first she seemed fine, but then she started talking about her children as though they were still little. Once she started talking about the fact that she thought she was in Mexico, bells went off. I called my mom, her sisters, her son. They, for the most part thought I was overreacting. At one point, my Aunt tried to convince me that she was fine. She had just spoken to Gram and she was doing dishes. "Fine!", I said, "But she thinks she's doing them in MEXICO!". It was well after 9:00 PM. I had to get over there. What if she really did hit her head, what if she had a concussion, what if she had a stroke? So I went.
I knocked on her door and she opened it with a great smile. I noticed the huge bruise on her forehead. I walked in and said, "Gram, please don't be upset with me. If this were me, I know that you would want the same. I am taking you to the hospital to be checked out." She smiled and said, "OK." She was in the middle of eating and I told her to go ahead and finish while I got her things in order (every time I picked her up we had to play Find the Purse. She would hide it for safety and then forget where!) . She sat and ate and we were chatting. When I found her things I was checking for ID, insurance cards, etc. She looked up at me and said, "I'll need my papers if we are returning to the US. We are in Mexico, right?" Thank you Aunt Kath! (Who's in Heaven). I needed that sign, that I was doing the right thing. Off we went...not before I noticed that there was only a quarter of the Lemon Meringue pie left. I had taken her shopping the day before and she bought it then. Remember, she is diabetic.
I went to the hospital with her and stayed until they sent me home for sleep at 6:00AM. The next morning my Uncle went in and I returned to visit later. I was so upset. She wasn't at all the same as when I had left her. I stayed there to wait for the doctor. Gram was in another time. She knew who I was, but in her mind, she was mothering her four young children. What had I done? Did she have a stroke and I didn't pick up on the signs? She told me she had a bump on her head. Why didn't I get to her sooner? This was my Gram. She cared for me and loved me and I let her down. I was too busy in my own little world and Gram needed me. She has never been the same since.
It is suspected that the combination of not taking her meds, along with eating too much of her favorite desert, caused her sugar to rise and she fell (in the bathroom) and hit her head on the sink or tub. It was a pretty good bump. I wasn't there. I could have brought her here for the day. I can't tell you how often these thoughts run through my mind. And when I see her, despite her smile and tight embrace for me, my heart breaks and I am filled with guilt and sadness. Where is Gram?
Gram never returned to her apartment. I had taken her out for the last time. In fact, she doesn't even recall that apartment or the three years she spent there. It is lost to her. She is now very happily residing in a beautiful assisted living facility. She has made friends (a special man friend!!) and tells me how she likes it there. She talks of selling her house and buying a new car. I have been drastically less worried about her. I know that she is getting her medicine and meals and constant companionship. I don't get to talk to her everyday like I used to because she is often not in her room when I call. That's OK. I know where she is. But I worry that she will forget about me. I also wonder if she feels that I have let her down. I miss her so much. I miss her advise. I miss everything.
Gram turned 80 last October. Before her fall, I was planning a party for her. It is hard for me to see others her age and older out and about, like she should be. Now I fill photo albums with pictures she has kept and taken over many years. Only a fraction of them were left here with me. She lights up each time I give her a new one. Although I know how completely unrealistic it is, part of me hopes that she looks through the memories and well...remembers. What I am grateful for is that she is happy in this state. That her life had these moments engraved in her mind to give her a home of comfort if this was what was to become of her. I know Gram is still here, but I miss her.
I am happy for the time that I had with Gram. I imagine her quickly moving from room to room and the wrinkles she would get in her forehead while in deep thought. Her endless lists and yellow notepads with pencils laid beside them, always ready for her next thought. The cup of coffee that she would loose throughout the house (just like me). The clicking noise she would make while she danced through the kitchen. The Polka music I more than tolerated. It is because of her, however, that I enjoy listening to Andre Rieu. She adored my children and they got to know her well. Gram was a Nursing Home Administrator for years and would often get upset with those that would mar the reputation and name of good nursing homes out there. I know that she must have seen the possibilities that lay before her. The saddest part of all this, is that she is healthy. It is her mind, that got her so far in life, that is now failing her.
I will most likely never know if there was something I could have done to prevent this and give her more of what she deserved. What I do know is that I will spend the rest of her life letting her know how much she means to me. I will laugh with her, listen to her, hold her and love her. The best that I know how. The way she did for me. I love you Gram.
Love,
Ra Ra
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Camp
"You're in!". A friend said this to me after hearing I had been invited out to "Camp". This was 19 years ago. I had only just met this group of new friends a few months prior and apparently, being invited to camp was the ultimate form of acceptance. "Fun...I guess", that 's what I thought. I love to camp, but what was the big deal here? What made this such a special invitation?
For me, it's close to 20 years later and that invitation was, indeed, something special. At the time, the big deal about being invited just meant that you were seen as fun enough and responsible enough to go. A friend that could be trusted not to get themselves or anyone else into trouble. Back then, camp was run by the "rents" and the "kids" had to stay out of trouble.
Trust me, we drank...a lot. We laughed...a ton!, Played tricks, dehydrated ourselves, sat by the fire, listened to our fav songs, danced (sometimes on the tables!) and snacked. We learned and played games like Beer Pong, Euchre, 3 Man, Spoons & Asshole. There was "Big Ball" (a game of volley ball with a HUGE ball. I played once, got crushed and decided it was more fun to watch!). We crashed into our tents hours past midnight and woke to have the sun beating down on us, turning our tents into roasting domes. That was because it was close to and sometimes after noon. Even though there were fantastic breakfasts prepared, most of us often missed them because we slept through them.
We also created life-long bonds full of friendship and love. Over the years we grew up, got married, bought houses, had children and our tents have turned into campers with all the luxuries us campees could ever need.
These days the thought of going to Camp is still exciting. The drinking, still happens, though not nearly as much. Seems our bodies and level of responsibilities (children who wake early top the list!) make the thought of a heavy hang-over super scary. The laughter and time spent around the fire with such wonderful friends, almost like family, at night is my favorite.
This new generation of Camp includes us girls planning the menus, prepping and cooking fantastic meals, just as the amazing women before us did. The men now really kick in to help with the prep and clean-up, as well as tending to the children, our children. In the morning, we are awakened by a new kind of sunshine, our little ones. They are excited to wake and start the day...and their equipment! They eat and gear up to ride quads and dirt bikes. It is too cute.
Camp really is a magical place. It's were men become boys and leave the women folk to go and build a fort up on "The Mountain" to protect themselves from bear. This is no joke. They also disappear for hours on end with gallons of water and chainsaws and come back sweaty and happy. Boys and girls leave trails of dust while riding and return with dirt bike face (only the spot where the goggles were is clean). In the past few years a private pond has been added where you can jump off a dock, swim, canoe and soon fish. The women have a chance to sit and chat, sometimes. Often we sit for a bit and then start the prep for the next meal when the hungry people come back. And they ALWAYS come back!! Even though it can be work, I enjoy doing it with my favorite gals. We make amazing meals together and it is always appreciated. Camp, for the most part, is the epitome of teamwork.
The most incredible part of all this is that "Camp" started out as a ride in the country for a father, his wife and their children. I have no idea how long ago that was. Since then, they and countless friends and family have come to gather in this special place to enjoy each other, fine food and God's land. So many have stood to admire the view at peak season in the fall. It serves as a hunting camp as well ( I don't want to know what happens at hunting camp!). Camp has taught many great lessons and served the family well over the years. In the past, potatoes have been grown and harvested as well as Christmas trees. The value of hard work and the dollar it earns was learned. Working together as a family. All four of Larry and Sharon's children have grown and now own a piece of this heaven. There is tradition here.
This weekend I saw the excitement in my children too. All the way there, my littlest kept asking, "Are we at camping yet?". One morning, my oldest little guy, lay in his bed, looking up, hands behind his head and said, "I never want to leave Camp, mommy". I know Bubba, I know just how you feel. I am so greatful for that invitation so many years ago. It has been, by far, the most priceless invite I was ever given.
For me, it's close to 20 years later and that invitation was, indeed, something special. At the time, the big deal about being invited just meant that you were seen as fun enough and responsible enough to go. A friend that could be trusted not to get themselves or anyone else into trouble. Back then, camp was run by the "rents" and the "kids" had to stay out of trouble.
Trust me, we drank...a lot. We laughed...a ton!, Played tricks, dehydrated ourselves, sat by the fire, listened to our fav songs, danced (sometimes on the tables!) and snacked. We learned and played games like Beer Pong, Euchre, 3 Man, Spoons & Asshole. There was "Big Ball" (a game of volley ball with a HUGE ball. I played once, got crushed and decided it was more fun to watch!). We crashed into our tents hours past midnight and woke to have the sun beating down on us, turning our tents into roasting domes. That was because it was close to and sometimes after noon. Even though there were fantastic breakfasts prepared, most of us often missed them because we slept through them.
We also created life-long bonds full of friendship and love. Over the years we grew up, got married, bought houses, had children and our tents have turned into campers with all the luxuries us campees could ever need.
These days the thought of going to Camp is still exciting. The drinking, still happens, though not nearly as much. Seems our bodies and level of responsibilities (children who wake early top the list!) make the thought of a heavy hang-over super scary. The laughter and time spent around the fire with such wonderful friends, almost like family, at night is my favorite.
This new generation of Camp includes us girls planning the menus, prepping and cooking fantastic meals, just as the amazing women before us did. The men now really kick in to help with the prep and clean-up, as well as tending to the children, our children. In the morning, we are awakened by a new kind of sunshine, our little ones. They are excited to wake and start the day...and their equipment! They eat and gear up to ride quads and dirt bikes. It is too cute.
Camp really is a magical place. It's were men become boys and leave the women folk to go and build a fort up on "The Mountain" to protect themselves from bear. This is no joke. They also disappear for hours on end with gallons of water and chainsaws and come back sweaty and happy. Boys and girls leave trails of dust while riding and return with dirt bike face (only the spot where the goggles were is clean). In the past few years a private pond has been added where you can jump off a dock, swim, canoe and soon fish. The women have a chance to sit and chat, sometimes. Often we sit for a bit and then start the prep for the next meal when the hungry people come back. And they ALWAYS come back!! Even though it can be work, I enjoy doing it with my favorite gals. We make amazing meals together and it is always appreciated. Camp, for the most part, is the epitome of teamwork.
The most incredible part of all this is that "Camp" started out as a ride in the country for a father, his wife and their children. I have no idea how long ago that was. Since then, they and countless friends and family have come to gather in this special place to enjoy each other, fine food and God's land. So many have stood to admire the view at peak season in the fall. It serves as a hunting camp as well ( I don't want to know what happens at hunting camp!). Camp has taught many great lessons and served the family well over the years. In the past, potatoes have been grown and harvested as well as Christmas trees. The value of hard work and the dollar it earns was learned. Working together as a family. All four of Larry and Sharon's children have grown and now own a piece of this heaven. There is tradition here.
This weekend I saw the excitement in my children too. All the way there, my littlest kept asking, "Are we at camping yet?". One morning, my oldest little guy, lay in his bed, looking up, hands behind his head and said, "I never want to leave Camp, mommy". I know Bubba, I know just how you feel. I am so greatful for that invitation so many years ago. It has been, by far, the most priceless invite I was ever given.
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