Semi-Homemade or Half-Baked?

     I was just trying to take a nap this afternoon. I was on the couch all snuggled in a puppy pile with my boys & I was awoken by a voice that was attached to a woman that was a cross between June Cleaver & Sandra Dee.  I opened my eyes & saw this perky blonde in this brightly decorated kitchen. John was watching a cooking show called Semi-Homemade with Sandra Lee. It wasn't along the line of the normal cook shows we watch but I gave it a try.
     It started out ok. Beef tips simmering in gravy with peas, pearl onions & artichokes. The veggies were all frozen but I didn't see anything wrong with it because the main part of the recipe was actually homemade. But then she broke out a tub of pre-made mashed potatoes & the doubt started to creep in. I mean, really, how long does it take to mash some potatoes? She heated them up & stirred in some roughly chopped basil. I thought this was an odd pairing but maybe it was because I put chives in mine. Then there was the coffee with the orange vodka & coffee liqueur topped with Cool Whip that had some orange extract added to it. But the worst part was the cheesecake. Now maybe I'm prejudiced because I make cheesecake from scratch that happens to be delish. But her creation appeared to be far from that. She made an orange sauce that used orange slices with the rind on. I assumed that she was going to take the orange slices out but she didn't. I could have dealt with the sauce but the frozen cheesecake she used looked like a pan full of really thick cottage cheese.
     Apparently, this isn't only a cooking show. It's a decorating one as well. She shows you how to use things around your house to make coordinated pieces for your dinner table. There were some really good ideas. The only problem was during this segment, every other word was sweet. This was sweet. That was sweet. Everything was sweet. From the candles to the flowers to the tablecloth to the favors. Sweet, sweet, sweet & sweet. I told my husband that I really hoped she didn't say that word anymore because I was starting to feel nauseous. Sure enough, 5 seconds later, she said it. He looked at me like, "please don't throw a dog at the TV."
   So then I start discussing the show with him. What was the purpose of the show anyway? You're showing me how to cook pre-made foods. It would be no different than me having a show making Salisbury Hamburger Helper with frozen peas & carrots added to it. To which he replies, "Well, she said it was semi-homemade." That did not make it better. You would think after almost 17 years he would know better than to side with a perky blonde when I am tired & trying to make a point. But, alas, he is a man & I must make allowances. Especially, when he caught his mistake & said that if she served him that junk cheesecake he would throw it at her. I'll let you know when my show is on YouTube. I'll be making simple everyday meals without pre-made food.

You Gotta Have Faith

     I'm just going to say from the beginning that some of you may not agree with what I have to say. But these are my thoughts, feelings and questions. I am on a journey to find religion. I think I am more of a spiritual person than a religious one. I have the faith part down - goodness knows that I probably wouldn't have made it through all I have without it. And I believe in a higher power. I like to think that there is something out there bigger than all of us keeping watch. But that's where it ends. My family wants to start attending church, but with all of the doubts floating in my head, I feel like a hypocrite if I go.
     I was raised & baptized in the Methodist church. My paternal grandfather was a Methodist minister. My maternal grandmother was one of the most religious people I know. My mom & I went to church pretty regularly until I reached junior high & started questioning everything. My mom tolerated my doubts but cautioned me not to speak of it to my grandmother. Even evolution was a taboo subject. When I was in junior high, I became obsessed with a TV show of Richard Roberts - Oral Roberts' son. My whole life revolved around that show. Which was difficult because it was on when I was supposed to be in school. For two weeks, I stayed home "sick" just so I could watch it. This was a secret I kept for many years. I suppose I was embarrassed that I got sucked into it all. I began to understand how so many elderly people freely sent every dime they had to ministers like that.
     For as long as I can remember, I've questioned the Bible. Not that the historical events didn't occur but how much of their factuality got lost in the translation over the years. And how there are so many verions of the same text. People can - and do - take the meaning of the words in so many different ways. Lots of times in ways that benefit them the most. I know that many versions exist because I have several in my home.
I've always felt that when you worship something, there should be a ritual involved. I think the Catholics have the closest thing to performing rituals of all the religions I have been exposed to. I don't understand how a minister speaking of his beliefs and translations of the Bible are supposed to help me worship God. Isn't he really telling me that I should believe as he does? But didn't God give me a brain so that I could have my own thoughts? I also don't understand how they use God & Jesus Christ interchangeably. Wasn't Jesus the son of God? So how are they the same? 
     I also have "issues" with certain religions. Like the Jehovah Witnesses. They don't celebrate their children's birthdays. Only Jehovah's. But aren't children a gift from God? So shouldn't we celebrate the wonderful gifts He has given us? They also don't believe in America, or so I've been told. With several friends and family members that have served in our Armed Forces, that doesn't sit too well with me. I had some come to my door a few months ago asking me about my feelings on the war. Jehovah must have given them some extra strength to enable them to walk past the American flag that we put up. I ran them off the porch. I think their mouths may still be hanging open after they heard what I had to say. And how about the religions that tell their followers to kill those that have different beliefs than them? What kind of god is that? I also have issues with Christian schools, especially when my preschooler comes home and says, "Guess what Mom? I have two moms and two dads." The other parents being Mary & God. It's amazing how literal a small child can take a statement like that.
     I feel at peace and the closest to God when I am surrounded by nature. It may sound silly, but when I am on the back of the motorcycle going down the road through the trees, I feel Him there. When I am in the ocean, surrounded by the vastness of the water or flying in a plane, high over the clouds or working in my gardens, digging in the earth, nurturing the plants & fighting the weeds or floating in the pool watching the clouds constantly changing shape - I feel Him in all those places. All those things make me pause and take notice of all that has been provided to us. I don't get that feeling that sitting in a pew listening to a minister drone on about something that we are supposed to derive a message from that is somehow related to a passage from the Bible.
     For several years now, I have been seeking a religion. I have known for a long time that I am not a conventional church-going person. There are just too many things that I don't appreciate about it. Off and on, I have been reading about Wicca. I find it very interesting. Their main belief is very basic but true. "If it harms none, do what ye will." How wonderful would the world be if everyone felt this way? If everyone focused on the positive in their life & those around them instead of all the negative? When I first started my reading, I had to do it in secret. My husband was adamant that he would have no devil-worshipper in his house. Ironically, Wiccans neither believe in or worship the devil. After he stopped long enough for me to explain that to him, he began to actually listen instead of criticize. This caused me to want to learn more as though I could prove all the theories I have considered for a very long time. Wicca has been around a lot longer than Christianity. In fact, in the beginning, Christians made their holidays close to the Pagan calendar so it would be easier to convert the Pagans to Christianity. For example, Christmas is at the time of the Winter Solstice or Yule. Christianity also made the satanic references to the pentagram. Which is interesting because until the medieval times, the pentagram was a Christian symbol of the 5 wounds of Christ. Little facts like this make me question conventional religion more and more. It also makes my quest to find what I'm looking for all that more important.
     Irregardless of where I end up or how I get there, I will always have faith in God. He has shown me much love and mercy in my life and that cannot be disputed.

The Gut Feeling

All Thursday evening my stomach has bothered me. I would say it was my cooking except that no one else is sick & my cooking has never been that bad. Well, except the time that I cooked my mom a salad on the stove with mustard & ketchup. But I was only 7 at the time! And, yes, she choked down every bite! That alone should have earned her Mother of the Year for at least a decade!
This used to happen to my mom a lot. Her stomach would get upset whenever something bad was about to happen. Sort of a gastrointestinal ESP or something. I was like that growing up. Only I didn't have stomaches, I just "felt" things. Like the time when I was 9 and I knew something was wrong with my Gramma who was 50 miles away. I called home from my Dad's house & sure enough my Gramma had broken some toes. It's not like I'm psychic. I can't tell your fortune or predict the near or distant future. Unless of course it is my child's future & she is in trouble! And Josie is even starting to show the signs. She told me that she didn't trust a certain relative of ours. She said that he was going to cheat us. Now she had no reason to say these things. She had no knowledge of what was going on with my mom's Trust. A few months later, I took over the responsibility of the Trust. Much drama ensued & I found things weren't entirely kosher with the whole situation. I suppose she was right after all. I have a few memories of my mom telling me things about my Gramma too but not a lot. Gramma was too God-fearing to acknowledge the possiblity of such things.
So instead of sleeping, I've been running through an equation in my head. For once, I'm sorry that it's not the mathematical kind. I have had a lot of Christmas spirit this year. I always do but more so this year. It hit me right after Thanksgiving. I have been baking and cooking like crazy - and NOT complaining about it. I even thought about going to the Christmas Eve service tonight. I usually only listen to the Christmas radio station at night when we are falling asleep because this is John's favorite holiday. But I have been listening to it in my truck and in the house for weeks. Nothing but Christmas music. I have heard so many variations of 'Oh, Baby, it's Cold Outside' that I've lost count. Who would have thought of pairing Rod Stewart & Dolly Parton together? And every Christmas song seems romantic to me. Causing to gaze at my husband like a goofy schoolgirl and just love everybody. But there is one song that I cannot listen to. The Christmas Shoes. I used to be able to and think that it was a touching song. But since my mom passed and with all the medical issues I have, it hits a little too close to home. Josie knows this & when it comes on the radio she will change it to the other Christmas station! So you can imagine how overwhelming it was when I was forced to watch the movie tonight.
So the equation goes something like this. Abnormal amount of Christmas Spirit plus overwhelming sadness caused by a movie multiplied by nausea & pain in stomach. Then factor in my newest heart issues & the fact that I will be having heart surgery after the first of the year. Also factor in that my husband's heart isn't in the greatest shape either. (I think the cardiologists are covertly prepping him for the possibility of a heart transplant.) An equation like this does simply not allow the rational part of my brain to take charge. The worry-wart part of my brain has convinced itself that some tragedy is about to take place. But what makes it worry more is that it cannot pinpoint what the tragedy is. Or maybe it is working with the perceptive part of my brain, which in turn is kicking in the gastrointestinal ESP. I suppose I won't really know until it happens considering my ESP is more the I-told-you-so kind. Which, I might add, is not very helpful whatsoever!
In the meantime, I'm going to go crawl in bed with my daughter. She still makes baby sounds in her sleep & it is very soothing. Hopefully I'll be able to say that the I-told-you-so wasn't as bad as I fear.

You can't pick your family!

My family is nuts! Well, not my entire family, just a select few. And I'm not including John's side of the family in this - believe me that's a blog of its own. You wouldn't believe half of it anyway. It would read like a work of fiction! Hmm...there's a thought! I'll let you know when I'm done writing it!
Anyway, it seems as though since my family's matriarch (my Gramma) passed away, the family has went to hell in a handcart. I suppose they knew better than to mess with her & her mighty self. All 5 feet of her! My Mom tried to keep it together afterwards but it wasn't the same and the family had already started to go in different directions. The lines had already been drawn with us kids. There was one of us that was raised to think he was better than the rest of us - even though his mom was a teacher & his dad worked in a factory. Consequently, the rest of us didn't take too kindly to his parents either. He still maintains that attitude today, thinking he is more than he really is. He is the kind of only child that gives the rest of us "only's" a bad name. He's the only person I know whose parents remodeled an entire house for him to live in. And now it's nicer than theirs! His mom still comes over to clean his house & cook for his friends. And he will be 40 next year.
When I was in the hospital, I asked for him to come. I was missing "family" & people I thought mattered. I told him I missed the big family dinners at the farm & wished that we could do it again. He told me that when I came home that we would do it again - even though the old farmhouse was new again & not exactly the same. Two years have passed since then. I realized a long while ago that he didn't think I would be coming home or he just wanted to tell me what I wanted to hear since he was in front of an audience. So today my husband & I were shopping for Christmas Eve dinner & I saw him walking down an aisle. I asked John if he had seen him & of course, he had a few choice things to say. As we were getting in line, I saw him heading toward us. He must have realized he was spotted because he did an about-face & headed in the other direction. After I unloaded the cart, John asked me to move so he could get past me. When I looked up, guess who was behind him? You got it - my cousin! Knowing him as I do, I wasn't going to speak first only to be ignored. So, I acted like I was involved in my purchases. And then my text message. And then digging for my Visa card. The whole time I could see him watching me out of the corner of one eye. Maybe it was because he was contemplating talking to me in - oh no! - public or maybe it was because John was giving him the evil eye from the other side of me! So that's how it was left. Two related strangers going through a check-out line. Funny thing is, we were the close ones when we were little. Who knows what changed or what influenced his choices in abandoning his dad's side of the family. Oh yes, wait, I do know! But she is a blog entry all in her own!

Her Hands

Her hands held and raised her three children. They worked a farm. They prepared everyday and holiday meals with love and skill. Her hands crocheted and sewed and planted. They harvested and canned and made her best bread and butter pickles. Her hands cared for piglets, calves, lambs and chickens. They tended her favorite flowers and picked apples for her wonderful apple butter. Her hands decorated the farmhouse for Christmas and hid Easter eggs all around the farm. Her hands lovingly held four precious grandchildren and tried to teach them to play the piano. They held her husband's hands for over 50 years. Her hands were wrinkled and crooked from arthritis. And my grandmother's hands were beautiful.
Her hands played the saxophone and the piano. They helped care for two brothers. They fed lambs, calves, piglets and gathered eggs from chickens. Her hands sewed and knitted and helped around the farm. They cared for others when she became a nurse. They lovingly held and raised a daughter. Her hands held the books she read to her daughter every night. They planted and nurtured flowers, herbs and a garden. They learned to cook and make the best cheesecake in the world. Her hands made homemade pizza every Saturday and banana bread every Christmas without fail. They held and nurtured a granddaughter. As she grew older, they began to resemble her mother's hands.  And my mother's hands were beautiful.
Her hands played with dolls and her mother's homemade playdoh. They weren't quite big enough to hold all the cards when they played Go Fish. Her hands tried to learn the piano but they never got the hang of it. They cared for countless gerbils and goldfish. They scratched at the chicken pox, even though they weren't supposed to. They learned to cook, well enough to earn awards. They learned to french braid her hair as though they had eyes of their own. Her hands held her new husband's as they were wed. Her hands felt her baby kick. They held her beautiful baby girl, all tiny and pink. They dried tiny tears and soothed her daughter. Her hands planted flowers and fed hummingbirds. They knitted, sewed and turned wrenches on motorcycles. Her hands have held tightly onto her husband's as they faced illness, hard times and special moments. Her hands are beginning to look like her mother's and grandmother's...and they are beautiful.

Dragonflies

A wonderful surprise arrived

The dragonflies came today

They brought happiness

To chase away the gray

They carefully carried love

On their delicate wings

A very special kind that

Only truest friendship brings

They flitted all about

Making me smile

Trying their best to ease

My burden for awhile

Now I send them to you

To help ease your pain

Until you are ready

To smile again

Letters From the Dogs

The dogs went to Circleville Pet Services today to get a bath & a puppy pedi for Christmas. Wolfie has been there lots of times. This is Skully's first trip. This is what I thought they would say to me, knowing their personalities.


Dear Mom,
        Thank you for my annual trip to Troy's to have my Christmas bath & puppy pedi! I knew where we were going as soon as you turned down the road. I always remember how to get home & how to get to Troy's - because that's where the puppies are! I love it there &, best of all, they love me right back!! Mom, they took my picture today! Not all of my groupies were there today so a picture will have to last them until I get to go again. I always feel like a famous pup when you take me there! And, Mom, they gave Skully & me both goodie bags & bandanas for Christmas! I had such a good time there today - even though they have a different groomer than last time. Um...Mom, could you tell her NOT to use the blower anymore? It scares Skully. I mean, I was brave cause I'm the big brother. But I think it scares him when they use it on me too. So, can you tell her Mom? Tell her the fans are a better way to dry off. But I like the puppy cologne she put on me. Don't I smell good?!

                                                          Hugs & Cuddles,
                                                                     Wolfie

Dear Mom,
         Thanks for the bath & puppy pedi! I got a bag of treats! And a ball! I got another ball! I love them almost as much as my hedgehog! And Mom...don't I smell good? Don't you just want to snuggle me & get puppy kisses?? I had a good time on my first trip away from home without you. But can you explain why my brother acts like he is some hotshot when he is there? And acting all rowdy when they took his picture - is that what he calls flirting?? I mean, aren't they supposed to be nice to ALL the dogs? Isn't that their job? Did you pay them extra for him or something? I don't get it. I have the soulful eyes & the cute ears. I give kisses. He doesn't give kisses. Clearly, I am the adorable one. So why do they go on & on about him? Just wait until we spend the night there. Then they'll know who the lovable brother is! Oh Mom, the funky groomer with the white & pink hair used the dryer thingy on Wolfie & he freaked all out. I, uh, acted up too because I thought he did it for extra attention. But really Mom, the fans are waaay better.

                                                           Nuzzles & Licks.
                                                                     Skully

It's Beginning to Look a lot like Christmas

There's something different about this year. I can't put my finger on it but yet it's there. Normally, putting up the Christmas decorations is a necessity. This year it was enjoyable. So much, in fact, that we have added more decorations inside & out. I find myself looking for another niche to put a tree of some sort. Each one with a theme or meaning. Right now there is one in nearly every room. I always swore I would never be one of those people that had to have a tree in every room. I mean, as long as there's one to put the presents under isn't that enough? But now I have joined the ranks of the tree fanatics. In my dining room there is the Santa tree complete with a skirt that matches his suit. My daughter has a pink tree in her room where she displays all the ornaments she has received since she was born. There is a purple & gold tree in my bedroom that matches the decor. My mom had an angel tree with ornaments made by my husband in her office, it is now in mine. In the kitchen is a tree a manager from years ago made for me. Of course, in the living room is the family tree covered from top to bottom in snowpeople that were given to me by friends & family. Last, but not least, is the beach tree in the bathroom! Next year, there will be a Harley tree in the summer room for my husband - which if you are keeping track makes eight. Eight! I'm still not sure how it happened. I suppose the crafty spirit moved me. I even figured out how to make the bows for the tree toppers! Me - making bows! I am the least crafty person I know! I mean, I can throw together a wreath, but that's just some decorations & a little hot glue. I didn't even take art in school because I couldn't draw a straight line or design anything. And now I'm making bows & designing trees! Who'da thunk it?! I could see me going out & buying bows or tree toppers of some sort but making them? No way! Maybe it's all a part of the change of life. When the ability to create one thing is taken from you, are you given the ability to create something else? Like when you go blind & your other senses are sharpened? Or did the chemo bring something to the surface when it killed the cancer? I don't know. Or maybe I shouldn't question it & just enjoy the fruits of my labor. In the meantime, I think I will ponder on another crafty project since there is no more room for trees.

La mort d'une amitie. Une tragedie parce que c'est vrai.

I'm assuming you are pulling another one of your famous fall-off-the-face-of-the-earth tricks. That's nice. I thought you were over that. But maybe you are truly happy in isolation or maybe you have burned so many bridges you have no other option. The whole situation makes me wonder if the letters you sent me were your true feelings or if it was just a set-up because you knew you were going to need a place to stay. And I fell for it. Opened my house & my family up to it. Once again, my daughter got attached to someone & they walked out of her life.Yes, your daughter got attached to me but it was your doing that took me out of her life, not mine. I want to thank you. Just when I was starting to trust again, you taught me that I can't truly trust anyone. I mean, if I can't trust someone I've known for over 30 years who can I trust? No one, I suppose, except my husband and child.

This whole thing goes way deeper than the money you owe me - although that is plenty. You & I both know you never had any intention of upholding your financial obligation to me. But the trust I had allowed me to believe that you wouldn't do that to me or my family. Especially knowing our financial situation. But you had no problem with us keeping a roof over your head, buying your food, beer & cigarettes. Makes me wonder if his family was right in not wanting him to get close to you. Maybe they could see through the facade you presented to the world. When the first payment date passed, I thought your first paycheck was delayed. But when the second date passed with no word from you I knew that I wouldn't hear from you again. It's a little sad to think that you are capable of screwing over anyone. Even the person that always supported you in all the things you did - even when they didn't make any sense. Who else can you say has done that for you?

Like I said this goes deeper than all that. The fallout is bad enough. The calls from collectors - which actually got a little fun after awhile when I would tell them everything I could to help them locate you. Listening to my husband say "I told you so." My daughter in her naivete still missing you, even though she knows the truth. My friend that couldn't look me in the eye or talk to me for over a month because of embarrassment that was caused by you. My true friends disbelief that my alleged best friend would treat me like that. You say that your daughter doesn't want to be with you. Can you truly blame her? Do you think that she can't see you for who you really are? I think blaming your parents is a scapegoat because who would want to admit that kind of truth?

Here's some more truth. I'm glad you left before the holidays. Glad because I can only imagine the drama that would have been if you had stayed much longer. And I don't just mean in my household. You would have wreaked havoc in another household that is very dear to me - even though you know it would have be wrong. I would probably have had to get into my inheritance by now considering how much the household bills increased with supporting you. And that would have been ok with you - even though it's Christmas time. And even though that money is for me to fall back on when I get older not to spend just because someone else can't pay their bills. It's amazing how many people incorrectly assume we are loaded just because my Mom passed away - why should you be any different? And I'm glad you aren't coming back. (Well, at least not to this house. There's no more room at this inn.) Now I don't have to pretend or wish that we are the same as we were growing up. That relationship is nothing more than a memory. That, too, is sad. It never needed to be that way. But maybe you thought I was too smart & I would eventually see through that facade & move out of your life a long time ago. Or maybe our whole relationship was a facade in itself. And it's also sad that I lost opportunities with many friends because I could never see past you. You were THE Best Friend. The inseperable ones. The sister I never had & thought I wanted. Thankfully, that is no longer an issue I have. Over the years I have come to learn that it's ok to have more than one close friend. That there are different levels of friendship & it's ok to have as many as there is room for in your heart.

I truly feel sorry for you. That you can't open your heart to others in a real way. That you don't allow love or trust or true emotion inside. That you don't let others in rather than keeping them at arm's length. I'm sorry for you that you are in a downward spiral & can't find your way out. I'm sorry that we will never be the girlfriends that grow old together, talking about our grandchildren & sharing memories while sipping iced tea in the swing. Most of all, I am sorry for you that you are missing out on one of the best friends you could have ever asked for.

I hope you find what you are looking for before it is too late for you to enjoy it. I hope you realize that it's ok to be happy with what you have instead of missing what you don't. I hope that one day you are able to let go of all the bitterness you hold inside so you can start to heal from all the hurt. I hope you allow someone in your heart so that you won't be so lonely & isolated.

Take care of yourself.

The Test

December 21, 2007 I came home for Christmas. I wasn't supposed to. Even though everyone outwardly hoped that I would, they inwardly thought I wouldn't. But I did.
I was admitted to the hospital in July of that year. Just because simple pre-admission tests for a biopsy went awry. Long story short, blood clots were caused by an improper blood draw. I was admitted twice in July due to a reaction to Coumadin. The second time I stayed for six months. The second time I was diagnosed with Stage IV non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. After the biopsy, I deteriorated rapidly. Test after test, procedure after procedure. Blood draws, IVs, blood gases, respirator - all a normal daily routine for me. Soon, chemo would be added to the list along with radiation. It was an ordeal to take me to any test or procedure. I needed no less than 3 escorts, a portable ventilator & the good fortune to have two empty elevators at the same time. We simply couldn't all fit into one with all I required. Eventually, the tube down my throat was replaced with a trach because I could not wean myself off of it. I was able to wean off the trach. Mostly because of my determination, John's insistance that I be home for Christmas & the wonderful respiratory therapists at Select. My leg muscles atrophied from being in bed 24/7 & I had to learn to walk again. It was such a long, tiring process. I often wondered how babies do it. Why they don't get frustrated & just give up. Because I was on so many drugs when I was in ICU & Select, there are many days & things I don't remember. Some of the drugs in ICU caused odd hallucinations. At the time I thought they were dreams, but looking back I realize that they were freaky interpretations of what was really going on around me. Every day in ICU brought a small army of doctors, residents & interns - not to mention the students. All with differing opinions, each one contradicting the one before, confusing & aggravating me to tears. I had no way to communicate with them - to tell them they didn't have a clue- except for writing it down. Because of the drugs & my weakened state my handwriting looked like a 2 year old right-hander writing with their left. Thank goodness my mom was able to decipher & translate for them. It was one-step-forward-two-steps-back nearly every day. I would improve, satisfying the doctors enough to move me to a regular room & then when I got there, I would have a cardiac or respiratory issue & head on back to ICU. Maybe I felt safer there right in front of the nurses' station or maybe I had a sense that my body wasn't really ready for the next step in healing. Whichever it was, it caused a lot of people a lot of worry & stress.
While I was in the hospital I missed a lot. My baby's 7th birthday, her first day in first grade, taking her to get her first pair of glasses, Halloween & trick-or-treating. The only holiday I didn't miss was Thanksgiving. John & Josie brought it to me. While I was gone my husband had heart attack # 7, which I didn't find out about until 3 months later. Turns out he was on the floor above me in CICU. And on September 11th, my mom passed away. She had been at my side every day since I was admitted. Proving, until the night she died, that a mother's love knows no limit. My daughter says that Mom asked God to take her instead of me because she needed me too much. I remember that there was so much Atavin in my system that I had no emotional reaction when they told me. Just another event that happened. I pleaded with my doctors to let me attend the funeral. I didn't really care about all the machines I was hooked up to. I just knew that I needed to be there. But it wasn't to be. There was no charming or bargaining my way out of that hospital.
I suppose that was the thing that kicked me in the butt & made me realize I had to start working twice as hard to improve & go home. Soon after, I had a trach put in & I stabilized enough to move to a regular room. Soon after that, I was admitted to Select for rehabilitation & to wean off the trach. That was the hardest & scariest time in my life. The therapists assured me that I would breathe on my own again & respiratory therapy wouldn't do me in. I did not agree! Once again Ativan became my best friend & helped me to overcome my fear so that I could do the work I needed to. Once the trach came out, I moved on to another rehab area & worked on building up my muscles & learning to walk again. I had a lot of work to do, John had told the doctors that I would be home for Christmas - no matter what. Talk about pressure - I had less than a month to undo what had been done over a 5 month period!
But I did it. I kicked butt & took names & pleasantly surprised the hell out of a lot of people. It would take another 5 months to get back to "normal", but I was home & that made all the difference. And I'm still improving, beating the odds that I wasn't supposed to. I'm in the home stretch to my second year in remission, which in itself is a miracle. Now I am dealing with the fallout from the chemo & radiation. Finding out the things they didn't tell me would happen - or I was too drugged up to understand. But the end result is worth it as long as my daughter has a mom to bug her everyday & my husband has a wife to make him smile.
Looking back, I think my experience was a test from God. To remind me of what was important that I forgot. To make me stop & appreciate my surroundings. To prove to myself that I am stronger & braver than I thought I could be. I think I passed.