2012

This year has been....a year.

I've joked with John all year long that the catastrophic events of this year were all his fault. He was the one who said that 2011 was the year that all years would be compared against as far as the level of suck was concerned. John lost both of his grandfathers that year, and we had a huge falling out with his brother, sister, parents, and remaining grandmother. He was quite sure it couldn't get worse. However, before February was even over with, God decided to take his challenge and make sure that those were not words that John will ever utter again, especially if he wanted to live and do well with me.

January:
John lost his job. We found out that my niece and possibly my nephew were being sexually abused by their father. He was arrested. My sister-from-another-mother and good friend Andrea was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer.

February:
Andrea went to Houston because her colon was so messed up none of the local doctors would even touch her or begin treatments of the cancer. John's cousin's wife committed suicide.

March:
Andrea was still in Houston. My dad was hospitalized for what we thought was pneumonia. He ended up having both strains of the flu as well as pneumonia. He was so deprived of oxygen and sick that he ended up being put on a ventilator for 4 days. They were concerned  that because of the lack of oxygen because of how sick he was that he might have suffered brain damage. Fortunately, his brain was only as damaged as it was before all of this.

April:
One year since Grandpa passed away. One year since all of the fallout with the family began.

May:
Finals. Need I say more.

June:
Summer school - thankfully this month wasn't so bad, and we were thinking that the year was looking up.

July:
Just trucked along

August:
School. Hate most of my professors. Liked the classes. Hated the professors. Arg.

September:
Andrea's colon ruptures. She spent a week on a ventilator. Worried that she might not make it out of the hospital. But thankfully she rallied, and went home. She spent almost the entire month in the hospital. Her husband suckers my husband into going to the lease. Thankfully no dead animal adorns my walls..yet. I discover that something isn't right with my innards. Go to ER the day after my 33rd birthday. Told to go home and take the narcotic pain meds. Tried that, but didn't remember going to school and a variety of other things, so just took thousands of ibuprofen trying to survive the worst of it.

October:
Felt so bad that I don't remember anything, other than trying to make it to class and to work. Pretty much quit cooking and cleaning completely. Basically didn't study much either. Just felt so, so bad.

November:
Finally got the referral to the specialist. Had actual surgery to remove very, very sick gallbladder the week before Thanksgiving. Felt some relief for the first time in months. Then the joys of a body adjusting to no gallbladder.

December:
Finals. Failed my first class. Probably because I shouldn't take a final the same day that I had to say goodbye to my sister-from-another-mother. December 6th, Andrea went home. There's a post in there somewhere about her. But I just can't write it yet. I barely could type those words without breaking down into tears. Stressed about followup with gastro, because the pain was back. Thankfully gastro thinks it's just my body adjusting.


Sure, there have been some high points, and some of the issues, like John losing his job, actually have turned out to be a blessing. And well, some of them, like losing Andrea just suck. So while most of this year was events that I could have done without, like the gallbladder epidemic, I don't know that I would change any of it. Even Andrea. As much as that breaks my heart to say, I think that her being a part of my life served a purpose, and I think that losing her will serve a purpose too. Even though I'm not sure what it could possibly be at this point. She did teach me a great amount about forgiveness, faith and believing in myself. But that's another post entirely.

So, my request for 2013 - Lord, give me the strength to make it through whatever it is that you throw at us this year. Help me to have more patience during those moments of insanity and suck, and help us find peace, not matter what the situation. And if you could help out with my GPA, I'd be eternally grateful.

Danger Will Robinson, Danger.

I have used this blog as a place to vent to and share deep and not so deep thoughts. Well, today this blog is going to become a personal outlet for some current frustrations in my life. Namely my mother. Don't get me wrong, I do love her, even though this post will probably not portray that.

Saturday evening we took my dad to the emergency room. Which right now seems like a lifetime ago, could be because I'm exhausted. But, I digress, and it's way to early to do that.

I don't understand how she couldn't see how very sick he was. I walked in the door and after 5 minutes of conversation with him, I knew that he wasn't ok, even though he insisted he was. He was panting like my dog does when he lays in the back yard in 100* weather and sun bathes. Yet, he was sitting almost completely still in a chair. He assured me that he was just having a bad day. Um. No. He wasn't thrilled to be going to the doctor when my grandmother, his mother, and I convinced him that he should be going to the doctor. But he finally caved. Which, I'm very thankful for, otherwise we would be planning his funeral. His doctors have assured me of that fact. Another couple of days and it would have been too late. Right now he lies in an ICU bed with a tube shoved into his stomach to provide him some type of nourishment, as well as on a ventilator. There isn't a doubt in my mind that another day and he would have died.

My mom wanted me to take him to the doctor while she watched over her grandkids, my niece and nephew who were visiting for Spring Break. Her reason was that he would change his mind. We intended to follow her with the children in tow. It wasn't the ideal situation, but you do what you have to do. My husband dealt with the children while I sat in the room with my father waiting on the test results. My mom debated leaving once we discovered that he was going to be admitted. I'm glad she didn't, simply because when his CO2 levels got too high, he kinda flipped out, and I was thankful that I wasn't there alone with him. Not because I was afraid of him, but because we needed 2 hands so he didn't rip his IV and stuff out, which could have been a disaster.

We finally got him moved to ICU and about 3am went home. She stopped by my house and we called my step-sister and shared with her the latest information. At 4am the hospital called to tell me that he was being moved to a ventilator, because his blood gases still weren't where they needed to be. Awesome. They also informed me that they were taking him for a CT scan, because they were concerned that something else might be wrong.

We finally managed to make it to bed, but at 5am, I heard my cookoo clock chirp. The nurse called again at 6:45, and my alarm went of at 9 so that I could call my grandmother and give her an update. As far as they knew, he only had pneumonia, they didn't know he was in ICU and I didn't want them to show up and the hospital and not be aware of what was going on. So I called and gave them the low down.

Sundays at my house usually involve a lot of things. Like cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping and homework, but since I'm on Spring Break this week, homework is just a very bad dream. My grandmother was at the hospital, so I figured that I would take the opportunity to clean and do a little laundry and that I would take the afternoon shift. So we spent an hour mopping and scrubbing, just in case my mom needed somewhere to crash, my house was neat and clean. Not that it's usually a mess, considering it took us a whole 60 minutes to get it done.

We got ready and headed to the hospital. We chatted with the nurse and got the low down on how he was doing today, and what the plan was now. My mom was planning on coming for the evening shift. But her electricity went out and she refused to leave. So she didn't come Sunday.

Monday, I had to work. I had planned on working full time this week, and even though he was in the hospital that was still my plan. I wanted the extra cash to help to catch us back up after John's bought with unemployment. So I got up and went to work. There was a misunderstanding between my mom and my grandmother and if not for my insistence, she probably wouldn't have made it on Monday night either.

There house was horrific when I was there Saturday. There kitchen was buried, their dining table buried, it was like watching an episode of hoarders unfold before my very eyes. There was trash, and groceries that needed to be put away, it was just horrific. So I'll admit that she needs her house cleaned. Bad. So Sunday afternoon and Monday she did just that. She has been cleaning and organizing her house. She blames it on my father that she can't accomplish this any other time, yet I remember when they first got married that he typically helped her, or at least left her alone to get it done.

Yesterday, she was supposed to come to the hospital. I called her at 8:30 and she was a no show. She was cleaning up my father's man cave and just wanted to get it done. Which, is fine, but if that were my husband laying in ICU on a ventilator, I would be there with him. Granted, I would need to be practical, and I might not be there every second, but I honestly don't know. I'd rather not find out how I have to react to that situation. He almost died and she is worried about cleaning her house than about him. Granted he is oblivious either way, but still.

She's never been one to visit people in the hospital. She doesn't come see her mother in law, she often didn't come see my grandfather when he was in the nursing home. And once we moved him to Lubbock, I'm not sure that she ever stepped foot in the door any other days other than the day he moved in and the day he died. She's not a visitor. She would rather you come to her, which I understand too. But life doesn't work that way. It makes me wonder what is really going on between her and my dad. It makes me wonder if they have quit being married and are more like roommates who are affectionate of each other, yet wouldn't mind it if the other walked off a tall cliff.

I was telling a good friend about how crazy it drove me, and she said it seemed heartless. She's right. It's also loveless. Sure, I can think of a million other things that I would rather be doing during those brief visits to the hospital. Yet, I'm there. Every.single.day. I'm exhausted. I had things I wanted to accomplish over Spring Break, and all of that has taken a back seat. It can wait. It's important that my father knows that someone loves him. That someone cares about him. It's important that he hears my voice. Even though I've had some odd conversations with him. I told him last night that his "food" looked like Eagle Brand Milk, but probably tasted like poo. Then that conversation continued on to discuss how exactly one knew what poo tasted like. I don't eat poo, I'm sure he doesn't. I'm pretty sure that's when I realized that I was exhausted. But he looks peaceful, which gives me a sense of comfort in hopes that he will be ok. That he is just busy getting better.

I'm not sure what's going to happen when he wakes up, or even when he goes home. But I have a funny feeling that this is going to change a lot of things in his life and my mothers life, whether they want it too or not. There is definitely going to be an intervention. He's in for a rude awakening. Wake up from a drug induced coma and suddenly your a non smoker, and a health food junkie.  That'll teach him.

Traveling with Parents

I love my parents. I promise, I really do. There are days, and times though, where I can imagine happily choking them.

If I ever have the urge to go out of town with them again, please shoot me. Please. You have my permission.

This past weekend, we went to the big city of Abilene, Texas to spend some time with my niece (who turned 11 yesterday) and nephew. My parents went too. So they could see the kids and spend some time with both of them before school started and play the birthday fairy. 

My parents aren't the most organized or the best planners. We left on Friday and came home early Sunday afternoon. We needed clothes for 2 days. They had like 8 bags of various sizes. 8 bags. For 2 days. My husband and I had one big suitcase, a cooler bag with snacks (in case we were hungry after swimming) and 2 smallish boxes with the kids birthday stuff in it. Obviously we didn't come home with the boxes, we carried everything into the hotel and out of the hotel in one trip. No luggage rack needed. My parents on the other hand, had a luggage rack half full. For 2 days.

I don't know if it's because they are retired, or because they are old, or because they think that they are old, but they have no plan. It's a go with the flow mentality. Which is fine, when others aren't involved. I'm a planner. I like to have a game plan, and when dealing with my step sister, plans are always good, because she never has any. Kinda like my parents. Figuring out when to eat and where to go was like pulling teeth. It was an ordeal that shouldn't have been. A simple, pizza sounds good, or whatever would have been nice. Instead it was a "oh, I don't care." I'm pretty sure that my head came close to exploding a few dozen times.

Then it was "I'm tired, and too old, too fat, too sick because I smoke 12 packs a day" to have any desire to do anything other than sit in a hotel room all day. I get that they aren't in the best of health. I get that. I do. But, lose some weight, quit smoking, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Don't just sit around and complain how crappy you feel when you won't do anything about it. My grandmother did that, and it drove me crazy, and now I see the same behavior in my mother and father. It sucks. But to 2 adults who are in good health, sitting around the hotel on a Saturday afternoon, doesn't really sound all that appealing. We are usually out doing things and moving around. We ended up going to the zoo. Me, John, Sophie, and Scott. Both of the kids whined because it was hot and humid and after 10 minutes they were ready to go. We spent 2 hours at the zoo. It was fun. It hot and humid and getting miserable. I will give them that.

They aren't planners and like to have a game plan in place. They aren't OCD like I am. They didn't have to have their car cleaned out and detailed before they left. They didn't stay up late the night before cleaning their house so that they could come home to a nice sparkly clean place. Nope, they stayed up late doing laundry and packing, which I had done days before. That's them. That's me.

However there were times that I just wanted to scream at them to get there crap together and act like an adult. Not like some person who was lost and didn't have a clue. Yet, they have been like that my entire life. My mom has always been a procrastinator to the extreme. She has always waited until the last minute to pack and do laundry. She doesn't do laundry now until she is out of underwear. And only then, she digs around hoping for clean ones to put it off a few more days. My dad is different, he gets all excited about something and then his excitement quickly fizzles out.

Then there is the smoking. After my dad had his heart attack they had quit, for about 8 months. They were fighting all the time, and being snippy with each other, and decided that they would start back and it would solve all of their problems. They don't realize that they are adding to them. My father couldn't even walk from the restaurant to the truck without huffing and puffing like he had just ran a hard mile. It was maybe, maybe 40 feet. Maybe. It screws with my asthma, Sophie's asthma and it makes me and them smell like we have wallowed in an ashtray and not taken a shower in days.

There were parts of the weekend that were fun. There were parts that I could have done without. I just wish that they would try to be more willing to meet us halfway, than just sit back and let the majority of the decision making be done by John and myself.

Family

The last few weeks have been mentally and emotionally draining as we have battled through the drama with John's family. And just when we feel comfortable about our choices and our decisions, my family rears it's ugly head.

You know that saying when it rains it pours? First of all the "it" that is being generally described has been a word that I really don't want to put into this blog, but it's often used when referencing poop. Yeah that. All sorts of poopy things have rained today.

Now I'm thinking about dirty diapers falling from the sky. Hundreds of thousands of dirty diapers falling.

Now your thinking of it too. You're welcome.

But I digress. Today, after almost a year of no word from him I get a message on facebook from my father. Ok, let me clarify that. My father on paper. I've mentioned him previously here and here. His name is on my birth certificate, but he has never been a father. Think glorified sperm donor. (Now hopefully your thinking less about poopy diapers falling from the sky.)

He is in town. And wants to see me. I haven't seen that man since December 18, 1999. Yes, I remember the day exactly. It was the day I got married. The last time I actually spoke on the phone to him, was in 2001. Haven't heard from him since then.

He had made contact with me on facebook last year. We messaged back and forth for several weeks and months discussing a few things in my life. I hit the high points, mostly because I didn't want him knowing too much and it coming back to bite me.

He likes to play the blame game. Everything was someone else's fault. He did absolutely nothing wrong. He was perfect. Which is the biggest crock of crap I have ever heard of.

The child that he wants to have a relationship with now is perfect. Now he thinks that I am worthy of his time and affection. He sure didn't when I was a kid. My friends who wouldn't have known what a good grade was if it bit them on the butt, were perfect. Yet, my B's should have been A's and if I got all A's then those should have been 4.0 A's. Or it was something else. Nothing pleased him, nothing made him happy.

So when I saw that message on facebook I did what any rational person would do. I logged out and logged back in, just to make sure I was signed into my account. You know, just in case.

Then I send my husband a text message. "I need to talk to you. Lee sent me a message on facebook. He is in town and wants to see me."

My husband's response "Are you serious?"

Even he was in disbelief.

And so now here I sit, trying to figure out what to do. What should I do? Do I open up a can of worms? Do I put forth the effort only to get my heart broken again, somewhere down the line? Or do I make a choice that I'll always wonder about? The "What if" I had said yes.

So here I sit, waiting and wondering. I've prayed, I've called, I've even messaged random people on facebook and asked them what to do.

Do I hold on to the past and let that allow for no room in the future, or do I walk back out on that bridge and meet him halfway? Do I save myself the heartache that I know is inevitable, or do I risk it?  This is one of those sucky situations where no matter what I do, no matter what I say, no matter which choice I make, it's always going to be regretted.

Sometimes being an adult really sucks.

~Don't ask me for the respect that you aren't willing to give, the phone call you aren't willing to make, and the visit you are too busy for. -Unknown

~Don't ask me to treat you like a priority, when I'm only an option. -unknown

~Giving up doesn't always mean you are weak; sometimes it means that you are strong enough to let go.      -Author Unknown


~Relationships are like glass. Sometimes it's better to leave them broken than try to hurt yourself putting it back together. ~Author Unknown

Motivation

There are a variety of forms of motivation.  Depends on the situation but it can be anything from smaller jeans, to a college degree, to living a longer, healthier life.  You just have to find it.

The last few weeks, I find myself saddened, by the poor choices that my father makes in regards to his health.  Almost 2 years ago he had 2 heart attacks within weeks of each other.  He tried to make the changes that were necessary for his health and well being, but unfortunately, that was easier said than done.  He is a cheeseburger-aholic and slightly allergic to most vegetables, unless large quantities of ranch dressing are involved.

The last few weeks, my mother and I have watched him and wondered how much longer he is going to be around.  When he finally caved and went to the doctor, he couldn't get shoes on because his feet were so badly swollen from the extra fluid that his body was carrying.  The fluid was up in his stomach and causing him difficulty breathing.  The doctor estimated that he was carrying around an additional 40-60 pounds of fluid.  My mom had to go buy him new pants so he could go to the doctor, because his regular sweats wouldn't go on.

This past weekend we were at there house installing a new light fixture in the kitchen, and I was amazed at his lack of thoughtfulness into his diet and efforts into getting the fluid off.  I realize that people who suffer from certain diseases, such as Congestive Heart Failure, and Diabetics are prone to their feet swelling.  As of this time he hasn't be diagnosed with either one of those conditions.

It saddens me, because I look at him, and wonder if he realizes that his stubbornness is going to cause so much hurt when he is gone.  Which, without some major lifestyle changes, might be sooner than we want it to be.  I'm sad that he doesn't realize that those choices are robbing his two grandchildren of their "Bop-pop".  I'm sad that more than likely he won't be around to see me graduate from Tech, or his grand-children graduate from high school.  I'm sad that he can't see the stress that this is putting on my mother, his mother, his father, his sister, my husband, his grandkids and even on myself. 

I realize that giving up salt and fried foods and the other junk that he eats is hard.  I realize that following a diet sucks.  But when it's a life or death situation what do you do?  I could stand to lose a few pounds too, but for the most part, my diet is healthy, and since I've started at Tech, I get more exercise in a day that I probably was getting in a week.  So too a certain extent, I'm preaching to the choir.

I wish that there was something profound that I could do or say, or that I could wave my magic wand and make him better.  Or at least make him want to get better.  Instead I think that he has given up on doing anything to make the situation better.  It broke my heart when we left on Saturday and I wondered on the way home, if it was the last time I would see him.  That's not a thought I want to have every time I walk out of their house.

I hope he realizes that you only get so many chances to make things right.  Once you have polluted and worn out your body, there isn't much more that you can do.  God only gives you so many chances, and sometimes one is all you get.

Saying Goodbye

Several months ago, I was contacted on Facebook by someone I had managed to avoid for the last 8 years.

My father. At least on paper. Insert sperm donor joke here.

We played catch up. Well as much catch-up as one cares to share with someone whom they were leery of reconnecting with.

Facebook has been great. It has allowed me to get to know some of the classmates that I didn’t bother with in high school. It has allowed me to stay connected to family and friends and watch their children grow up and change. Yet, this was always something that was in the back of my mind that could happen, that he could “find” me.

As I emailed back and forth with Lee, a part of me wanted to see that he had changed, that the last eight years had brought some sort of growth to him, so that he would understand things differently. The other part of me was quite prepared for him to prove that he was still the same person he was the last time I saw him.

The more we chatted, the more I had hoped that we could build some sort of relationship. Probably not father-daughter like, but maybe we could be friends who happened to be related.

I sent the last message to him July 17th, inquiring about the type of surgery that my stepmother would be having in a few weeks. I’m still waiting for that response. Could I have sent another message? You bet. I figured I would give it a few weeks and see what happened. Actually I was waiting for my birthday. I figured that if he was serious about some sort of relationship that he would have made sure to send a message for my birthday. Instead I get nothing.

I would love to say that I’m hurt, or even disappointed, but the funny thing is, I’m not. I’m just saddened by the fact that this man is too concerned with his own life to really put forth the effort to try to have a relationship with me.  I'm sad that he made his choice, I'm sad that his previous choices have finally all caught up to him, and he is paying for the bad choices he has made where I was concerned.  He will miss out on so much.

Me, not so much.

See, my mom got remarried when I was 17. While my relationship with my stepfather was rocky when they first got married (I was 17, I thought I knew it all), he is more of a father to me than to the man whose name is on my birth certificate.

I’m sad that Lee will never realize what he is missing, and what he missed out on. Granted, my life isn’t that glamorous or exciting, but, on paper, I’m his child, and personally I wouldn’t care if my child sat in a padded room all day, I wouldn’t want to miss a thing.

I would like to say that I have regrets about this, but the choice has always been his.  He just so often chooses everyone else over me. 

~The people you hope will change don’t, and the people you hope won’t change, do.

~To bring up a child in the way he should go, travel that way yourself once in a while. ~Josh Billings

~Don't worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you. ~Robert Fulghum

~It behooves a father to be blameless if he expects his child to be. ~Homer

7 Days of Thanksgiving

Today I am thankful for my parents.

I have a decent relationship with my parents.  Sure, they get on my nerves from time to time, but isn't that what parents are supposed to do?  I know that if I genuinely needed them that they would be there. 

Sometimes I wish that I had a couple of brothers and sisters that they could annoy as well.  I mean, why should I get to have all the fun.  I love you mom, please don't send my Christmas presents back. 

I really do love my parents.  They are considerate, they are always telling me how proud of me that they are, and not just with school.  They heap praise on my cooking, on school, and even on this blog. 

They provide me with insight and more sarcastic thoughts to make my day complete.  I'm not really sure what I would do without them.  I'm not really sure how they put up with me.

~Don't worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you. ~Robert Fulghum


~If there is anything that we wish to change in the child, we should first examine it and see whether it is not something that could better be changed in ourselves.  ~C.G. Jung