Tuesday, September 14, 2010
History
Because I have posts kind of all over the place on social sites I decided to put them in one place. So I did. If it's an old post, which they all are previous to this one, it states it's "From" and the date. :*) Anything from here out will be new. It may be sporadic or lots in a row, who knows with me. Thanks for reading! Fair warning stuff in the past has a fair amount of cussing. Some of the stuff in the future might, it really depends on how angry I am at the time of posting. I try to keep it less offensive and such. It's something I'm working on. :)
Life's Little Lessons (Courtesy of Friends and Family)
From Monday, August 16, 2010
"We all begin with good intent
Love was raw and young
We believed that we could change ourselves
The past could be undone
But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
In the lonely light of morning
In the wound that would not heal
It's the bitter taste of losing everything
That I've held so dear.
I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so..." - 'Fallen' by Sarah McLachlan
Over the years I have, of course learned a great many things as one might expect (and hope) out of any one person. I can attribute a lot of these things to my family and friends naturally since they are such a large part of my life. Some of them are the most important bits and pieces that have truly stuck with me over time, memories maybe I will always have. Not all are pretty little things, but they are worth remembering because they made the next life changing subtlety or, slap in the face altering moment worthwhile.
As a child I had a friend named Jennifer G. Kind of funny since we shared the same first name and the same last initial. We were practically inseparable. Despite practically living at her house on occasion I still never called her mother, Mom, because I just didn't do that. It just never occurred to me when I was little. But she was a second mom to me and Jennifer was like a sister. We moved away when I was 8, nearly 9. I went back at the age of 11 to visit; meanwhile I had been writing to Jennifer and keeping in contact. She was a "prep"or a "bow-head" if you will and I was merging into "new-age" and wearing a lot of black and other dark colors at the time. She virtually shunned me as politely as she could. Her mother still treated me the same because she was still the same lovely woman she had always been. Jennifer started me on my hatred of not only the prep and bow-head crowds back then, but of blonds. She was only one of about 6-8 blond best female friends I had who did something nasty to betray my trust or friendship and so I developed a huge distrust and a very unhealthy dislike for the fair haired population as a whole because of these 9 or so women. No worries, it wasn't to last forever.
There was my mother who taught me the love of music. We used to drive along in the car on long road trips for instance and we would sing along with Anne Murray or any of the other various artists she loved and I grew up loving. At the age of 6 she taught me harmony (I apparently started singing at 2, probably not well, but there you have it) which lead to even more love and more avenues for us to practice and explore. This blossomed into so much more later when I joined choir in elementary school and the school musical in 5th grade with a lead part, such that they were. I loved them and that's what mattered.
It's pretty safe to say I'm an independent person. That could be putting it mildly, maybe. This is another attribute my mother gave me. I can remember so many conversations with her where I would tell her something and she would just laugh, and looking back now, it was my independence rearing its head pretty hardcore, at four, five, and six and so forth. My father was not amused. Seriously, he was really not amused. He wanted a wife to cook and clean house for him, he didn't get his wish. On top of that his daughter was definitely NOT learning these traits. Oops. One of the funniest stories to illustrate this was when I was around five or six and we were in a boot store, shopping for, what else but cowboy boots. This was back in the day when kids wore their names on their shirts. 'Hi! Wanna kidnap me? Well here's my name. Excellent!' Anyway, a drunk tipsy cowboy was rambling by and paused, tilted his head, looked at my shirt and then me. "Jennifer? That's a pretty name for a pretty little girl. How would you like to come home and cook and clean house for me?" I looked up at him with a blink of my "pretty little lashes" and said "My mommy isn't raising me just to cook and clean house for a man." He looked startled, shrugged and lumbered off. My mom started laughing. My father turned more red than usual and looked thoroughly embarrassed. Yes folks, it started early.
As mentioned above, my mother taught me to love music when I was little. Loving music is beautiful and brings something into our lives that can do so much for so many of us. But, a love for music allows for only so much. My grandfather, Pepaw as we called him, taught me the Joy, and the passion of music. I couldn't help but be swept up in that magical world surrounding him. I remember that for the longest time as I was growing up there was always music on visits. Organs, which I loved to pretend to play, banjos, guitars, singing, etc. And when I got old enough to make my own music, even though it wasn't his style, he still listened and told me how wonderful I was and it was. He has passed now but his memory lives on in me, and the rest of his grandchildren who sing, play or write music.
My sister Vicki has always been the caretaker. She was like a secondary mother to me for a very long time, at least until she had her own kiddos. I always looked up to her. Endlessly she tries to help people. And, while it may end in disappointment I have never seen it stop her. It was she who taught me that trying to save someone was a worthwhile feat. I have tried this with people and I have found (as many have) that unless someone wants to help themselves you can't help them. As this is so, I tend to focus my efforts on animals. Generally, this is much to the chagrin of whomever it is that lives with me, that would make my husband the lucky one now!
It seems most people are of the general thought that young people don't remember things or don't grasp things very well. I think this is quite untrue. When I was six, my brother Scottie was a big influence on me. I can hazily remember sitting on his shoulders and having to duck as we went in through doorways because otherwise I'd smack right into them, face first. He was tall. More than that, he was kind. Even someone as young as I was noticed this. It is a personality trait that draws people in and it worked on me. I haven't always managed to master this skill but I assure you, it is something I have and I have even managed to use it over time here and there, more than folks might know.
Ah, my dear, brother Bryan whose cynicism and sarcasm has certainly had a huge impact on me throughout the years. His intelligence, analytical skills and ability to assess a situation, even though not always accurately, have always made me think twice about things... once I got past my know-it-all stage. So, two years ago, more or less. Just kidding, sometime during my teen years he ripped into me about being a huge know-it-all and made me feel like an idiot. He was younger then too and a little less diplomatic with his baby sister than with everyone else. He has never been the protective brother, willing to beat up guys who messed with me, no I took care of that. He took situations in which I was upset and helped me figure out a different side, a better answer, or perhaps just calmed me down. I have always been a little over the top with my anger and naturally, he knew it. He would gladly laugh at me which would anger me more but now I look back on it, I'm sure it was meant to show me I was over reacting. My whole family is sarcastic but I'm quite sure Bryan and I take the cake on this, at least on my mother's side. I'm very sure my heightened level of sarcasm was learned from my brother and I appreciate every bit of that sarcasm, analyzing, self assessing, the little bit of diplomacy he taught me (the rest came from Apple), and lack of know-it-all-ness I have now thanks to him.
Leann, another of my sisters, really taught me a love of cats. For, if not for her, Frodo would never have come to Bryan as a gift. And I would not have become super attached to Frodo. Instantly at the age of four I was enamored and it was over for Bryan. When he eventually moved out, he didn't take Frodo with him. I know this was mainly because of me. Frodo had become just as attached to me and slept with me nightly, hugging me. Leann also brought her other cats for us to babysit whom I remember were stolen from our house but I will never forget that she introduced me to cats and that because of her I adore them so.
The youngest of my three sisters next to me, Sherri, was my tomboy idol when I was really young. I thought it was so cool that she played sports and did the same things that the boys did. I did these things as well but because she did them, I knew I could too. I often got in fights with little boys because they would tell me I should be playing with dolls instead of cars, or that I couldn't do certain other things because I was a girl. They soon found out how wrong they were. I was empowered by my older sister but she never knew. Of course I had no idea what empowered meant at the time or that I was, but who cares, I was beating up little boys and playing with cars.
This brings me to my niece Mandy. She was the one who started healing my dislike for the fair haired folks. It's very hard to dislike someone you love so much just because of their hair color. It was an irrational dislike of a populace for their hair color in the first place but people are not always rational are they? Unfortunately, I'm pretty positive my dislike had a negative effect on her which I am sorry for; but I am forever glad she grew up and decided it didn't matter what I thought and grew out her beautiful blond hair. It just so happens she is very intelligent, creative and she doesn't play to the stupid stereotype for which I am also happy. I love her spirit and her giving nature and she is so much like her mom, Vicki. Mandy gave me back some of my belief in people.
Jeni, a very good friend of mine has also restored my faith in the fairer haired folk. She started off with light hair and though it has darkened to a very light brown, I count her as one of the intelligent "blonds" since I knew her when she was blond. Ha! She has been a true friend and she has been there for me in a very rough time. She has understood my issues (of which there have been a lot in a little time) and she has been patient. And even when I didn't always have the time to stop and be the best of friends, she was still there. This has restored the rest of my faith in people, the faith that I had lost anyway.
My nephew Matthew has given me a lot to think about. Sometimes you have to forgive and forget. He was my little sweet Matthew as he grew up. He always ran to give me hugs and I can't tell you the kind of joy this gave me. Even as a teenager he still gave me hugs, when you know, it wasn't "cool". Things happened; he fell into some bad stuff as some of us do growing up and even then, even when things were at their worst for him, he pulled himself up, with the help of family, and got himself through it. It wasn't easy, it wasn't quick and I was upset deep down for a while. But I found that as hard as it is, it's sometimes easier to forgive someone of their dumb mistakes than it is to hold on to the upset over it. Not to mention having my own dumb mistakes naturally. I have had plenty. I can't say that about everything, but I can say that about a lot of things now. He has shown me people can be very strong. I think I knew it, but seeing it is often stronger than knowing sometimes.
Polly and Steve, two people who helped me learn to live life in a very small town. They helped me adapt, as well as I possibly could to Krum. I was a skater chick with uneven hair in a town with 2000 people and a school with 50 people in the High School section. It was massive culture shock. I had moved half way through the year from a school with 3000 + people and within a few minutes of arriving it felt like most of the people in my grade knew who I was. It was awful. On top of that they were holding auditions for the school play which I would have adored trying out for but I held back because I was new to the school; and honestly, I had come from places where the new girl didn't get parts. I found out later in drama class if I had auditioned I would likely have made it. Back to Steve and Polly... because of them, I tried new things, things I wouldn't have normally tried previous to moving to Krum. They are two of the best friends I have ever had.
Chris, my husband has taught me a lot. I think the biggest and truest thing he has shown me is real love. We know our limits, we know we mesh, we know that we work well together. At least I know these things to be true. I can't speak for someone else really. Trusting another human with my feelings has been difficult because of the road I have traveled. I have met some very unkind people along the way. Unfortunately Chris has had to deal with some of the walls that went up because of that. I think I can say that most of those walls have come down because of him. I am learning to trust completely, despite personal insecurities and let me tell you people, that is hard! He gets frustrated with me and I can always tell, but because I am me, I make him talk to me and work it out. I never let things just drop because it's not worth holding it in. I know when to pick my battles (mostly) and I feel we have a healthy way of handling things. He's so very clever and funny. Get him and my brother in a room and it's over for my ribs. They will be hurting forever. Well at least for that night, maybe the next day.
The rest of my family through recent re-connections has taught me to open my eyes and see anew. Things change as I well know from my jobs and life in general, mostly from my jobs though. People can grow, and become something different and though you may hold certain expectations you should really look past those because they are often wrong. At least in my case they are. I find that first impressions are not usually correct and it's best to wait 'til second or even third meetings before casting "judgment". Don't get me wrong, I'll still make comments and make fun if I wish of whomever I like, but that doesn't mean I won't feel bad later or change my mind about people I meet. I'm still me after all and I'm nothing if not cynical, nothing if not honest about how I feel about things and nothing if not able to realize I can be wrong. Best of all, I am adaptable. :*)
Love was raw and young
We believed that we could change ourselves
The past could be undone
But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
In the lonely light of morning
In the wound that would not heal
It's the bitter taste of losing everything
That I've held so dear.
I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so..." - 'Fallen' by Sarah McLachlan
Over the years I have, of course learned a great many things as one might expect (and hope) out of any one person. I can attribute a lot of these things to my family and friends naturally since they are such a large part of my life. Some of them are the most important bits and pieces that have truly stuck with me over time, memories maybe I will always have. Not all are pretty little things, but they are worth remembering because they made the next life changing subtlety or, slap in the face altering moment worthwhile.
As a child I had a friend named Jennifer G. Kind of funny since we shared the same first name and the same last initial. We were practically inseparable. Despite practically living at her house on occasion I still never called her mother, Mom, because I just didn't do that. It just never occurred to me when I was little. But she was a second mom to me and Jennifer was like a sister. We moved away when I was 8, nearly 9. I went back at the age of 11 to visit; meanwhile I had been writing to Jennifer and keeping in contact. She was a "prep"or a "bow-head" if you will and I was merging into "new-age" and wearing a lot of black and other dark colors at the time. She virtually shunned me as politely as she could. Her mother still treated me the same because she was still the same lovely woman she had always been. Jennifer started me on my hatred of not only the prep and bow-head crowds back then, but of blonds. She was only one of about 6-8 blond best female friends I had who did something nasty to betray my trust or friendship and so I developed a huge distrust and a very unhealthy dislike for the fair haired population as a whole because of these 9 or so women. No worries, it wasn't to last forever.
There was my mother who taught me the love of music. We used to drive along in the car on long road trips for instance and we would sing along with Anne Murray or any of the other various artists she loved and I grew up loving. At the age of 6 she taught me harmony (I apparently started singing at 2, probably not well, but there you have it) which lead to even more love and more avenues for us to practice and explore. This blossomed into so much more later when I joined choir in elementary school and the school musical in 5th grade with a lead part, such that they were. I loved them and that's what mattered.
It's pretty safe to say I'm an independent person. That could be putting it mildly, maybe. This is another attribute my mother gave me. I can remember so many conversations with her where I would tell her something and she would just laugh, and looking back now, it was my independence rearing its head pretty hardcore, at four, five, and six and so forth. My father was not amused. Seriously, he was really not amused. He wanted a wife to cook and clean house for him, he didn't get his wish. On top of that his daughter was definitely NOT learning these traits. Oops. One of the funniest stories to illustrate this was when I was around five or six and we were in a boot store, shopping for, what else but cowboy boots. This was back in the day when kids wore their names on their shirts. 'Hi! Wanna kidnap me? Well here's my name. Excellent!' Anyway, a drunk tipsy cowboy was rambling by and paused, tilted his head, looked at my shirt and then me. "Jennifer? That's a pretty name for a pretty little girl. How would you like to come home and cook and clean house for me?" I looked up at him with a blink of my "pretty little lashes" and said "My mommy isn't raising me just to cook and clean house for a man." He looked startled, shrugged and lumbered off. My mom started laughing. My father turned more red than usual and looked thoroughly embarrassed. Yes folks, it started early.
As mentioned above, my mother taught me to love music when I was little. Loving music is beautiful and brings something into our lives that can do so much for so many of us. But, a love for music allows for only so much. My grandfather, Pepaw as we called him, taught me the Joy, and the passion of music. I couldn't help but be swept up in that magical world surrounding him. I remember that for the longest time as I was growing up there was always music on visits. Organs, which I loved to pretend to play, banjos, guitars, singing, etc. And when I got old enough to make my own music, even though it wasn't his style, he still listened and told me how wonderful I was and it was. He has passed now but his memory lives on in me, and the rest of his grandchildren who sing, play or write music.
My sister Vicki has always been the caretaker. She was like a secondary mother to me for a very long time, at least until she had her own kiddos. I always looked up to her. Endlessly she tries to help people. And, while it may end in disappointment I have never seen it stop her. It was she who taught me that trying to save someone was a worthwhile feat. I have tried this with people and I have found (as many have) that unless someone wants to help themselves you can't help them. As this is so, I tend to focus my efforts on animals. Generally, this is much to the chagrin of whomever it is that lives with me, that would make my husband the lucky one now!
It seems most people are of the general thought that young people don't remember things or don't grasp things very well. I think this is quite untrue. When I was six, my brother Scottie was a big influence on me. I can hazily remember sitting on his shoulders and having to duck as we went in through doorways because otherwise I'd smack right into them, face first. He was tall. More than that, he was kind. Even someone as young as I was noticed this. It is a personality trait that draws people in and it worked on me. I haven't always managed to master this skill but I assure you, it is something I have and I have even managed to use it over time here and there, more than folks might know.
Ah, my dear, brother Bryan whose cynicism and sarcasm has certainly had a huge impact on me throughout the years. His intelligence, analytical skills and ability to assess a situation, even though not always accurately, have always made me think twice about things... once I got past my know-it-all stage. So, two years ago, more or less. Just kidding, sometime during my teen years he ripped into me about being a huge know-it-all and made me feel like an idiot. He was younger then too and a little less diplomatic with his baby sister than with everyone else. He has never been the protective brother, willing to beat up guys who messed with me, no I took care of that. He took situations in which I was upset and helped me figure out a different side, a better answer, or perhaps just calmed me down. I have always been a little over the top with my anger and naturally, he knew it. He would gladly laugh at me which would anger me more but now I look back on it, I'm sure it was meant to show me I was over reacting. My whole family is sarcastic but I'm quite sure Bryan and I take the cake on this, at least on my mother's side. I'm very sure my heightened level of sarcasm was learned from my brother and I appreciate every bit of that sarcasm, analyzing, self assessing, the little bit of diplomacy he taught me (the rest came from Apple), and lack of know-it-all-ness I have now thanks to him.
Leann, another of my sisters, really taught me a love of cats. For, if not for her, Frodo would never have come to Bryan as a gift. And I would not have become super attached to Frodo. Instantly at the age of four I was enamored and it was over for Bryan. When he eventually moved out, he didn't take Frodo with him. I know this was mainly because of me. Frodo had become just as attached to me and slept with me nightly, hugging me. Leann also brought her other cats for us to babysit whom I remember were stolen from our house but I will never forget that she introduced me to cats and that because of her I adore them so.
The youngest of my three sisters next to me, Sherri, was my tomboy idol when I was really young. I thought it was so cool that she played sports and did the same things that the boys did. I did these things as well but because she did them, I knew I could too. I often got in fights with little boys because they would tell me I should be playing with dolls instead of cars, or that I couldn't do certain other things because I was a girl. They soon found out how wrong they were. I was empowered by my older sister but she never knew. Of course I had no idea what empowered meant at the time or that I was, but who cares, I was beating up little boys and playing with cars.
This brings me to my niece Mandy. She was the one who started healing my dislike for the fair haired folks. It's very hard to dislike someone you love so much just because of their hair color. It was an irrational dislike of a populace for their hair color in the first place but people are not always rational are they? Unfortunately, I'm pretty positive my dislike had a negative effect on her which I am sorry for; but I am forever glad she grew up and decided it didn't matter what I thought and grew out her beautiful blond hair. It just so happens she is very intelligent, creative and she doesn't play to the stupid stereotype for which I am also happy. I love her spirit and her giving nature and she is so much like her mom, Vicki. Mandy gave me back some of my belief in people.
Jeni, a very good friend of mine has also restored my faith in the fairer haired folk. She started off with light hair and though it has darkened to a very light brown, I count her as one of the intelligent "blonds" since I knew her when she was blond. Ha! She has been a true friend and she has been there for me in a very rough time. She has understood my issues (of which there have been a lot in a little time) and she has been patient. And even when I didn't always have the time to stop and be the best of friends, she was still there. This has restored the rest of my faith in people, the faith that I had lost anyway.
My nephew Matthew has given me a lot to think about. Sometimes you have to forgive and forget. He was my little sweet Matthew as he grew up. He always ran to give me hugs and I can't tell you the kind of joy this gave me. Even as a teenager he still gave me hugs, when you know, it wasn't "cool". Things happened; he fell into some bad stuff as some of us do growing up and even then, even when things were at their worst for him, he pulled himself up, with the help of family, and got himself through it. It wasn't easy, it wasn't quick and I was upset deep down for a while. But I found that as hard as it is, it's sometimes easier to forgive someone of their dumb mistakes than it is to hold on to the upset over it. Not to mention having my own dumb mistakes naturally. I have had plenty. I can't say that about everything, but I can say that about a lot of things now. He has shown me people can be very strong. I think I knew it, but seeing it is often stronger than knowing sometimes.
Polly and Steve, two people who helped me learn to live life in a very small town. They helped me adapt, as well as I possibly could to Krum. I was a skater chick with uneven hair in a town with 2000 people and a school with 50 people in the High School section. It was massive culture shock. I had moved half way through the year from a school with 3000 + people and within a few minutes of arriving it felt like most of the people in my grade knew who I was. It was awful. On top of that they were holding auditions for the school play which I would have adored trying out for but I held back because I was new to the school; and honestly, I had come from places where the new girl didn't get parts. I found out later in drama class if I had auditioned I would likely have made it. Back to Steve and Polly... because of them, I tried new things, things I wouldn't have normally tried previous to moving to Krum. They are two of the best friends I have ever had.
Chris, my husband has taught me a lot. I think the biggest and truest thing he has shown me is real love. We know our limits, we know we mesh, we know that we work well together. At least I know these things to be true. I can't speak for someone else really. Trusting another human with my feelings has been difficult because of the road I have traveled. I have met some very unkind people along the way. Unfortunately Chris has had to deal with some of the walls that went up because of that. I think I can say that most of those walls have come down because of him. I am learning to trust completely, despite personal insecurities and let me tell you people, that is hard! He gets frustrated with me and I can always tell, but because I am me, I make him talk to me and work it out. I never let things just drop because it's not worth holding it in. I know when to pick my battles (mostly) and I feel we have a healthy way of handling things. He's so very clever and funny. Get him and my brother in a room and it's over for my ribs. They will be hurting forever. Well at least for that night, maybe the next day.
The rest of my family through recent re-connections has taught me to open my eyes and see anew. Things change as I well know from my jobs and life in general, mostly from my jobs though. People can grow, and become something different and though you may hold certain expectations you should really look past those because they are often wrong. At least in my case they are. I find that first impressions are not usually correct and it's best to wait 'til second or even third meetings before casting "judgment". Don't get me wrong, I'll still make comments and make fun if I wish of whomever I like, but that doesn't mean I won't feel bad later or change my mind about people I meet. I'm still me after all and I'm nothing if not cynical, nothing if not honest about how I feel about things and nothing if not able to realize I can be wrong. Best of all, I am adaptable. :*)
The Secret Marriage
From Thursday, June 11, 2009
I have to start off with an apology to everyone. Chris and I have been married for a long time now and haven't been honest about it. Chris came over from the UK March 31 of 2003. We pretty much instantly fell in love and decided to get married because that was the only way to keep him in the country and we wanted to get married at some point. August 26th that same year we got married. The preferred date was October 30 eventually. :D
Anyway, we wanted to have an official wedding for everyone including us but it never happened. We didn't have the money, we got fat, my medical issues, it's just been ongoing. :/ We finally just got tired of lying to everyone so we decided to start telling people a couple of weeks ago on my birthday. So now it's out and you know. I'm sorry to those I haven't been able to tell in person. I'm sorry to those who feel betrayed.
A friend offered the possibility of their back yard for a ceremony so we may have one yet but it hasn't been decided. When we know, you will know. :*)
I have to start off with an apology to everyone. Chris and I have been married for a long time now and haven't been honest about it. Chris came over from the UK March 31 of 2003. We pretty much instantly fell in love and decided to get married because that was the only way to keep him in the country and we wanted to get married at some point. August 26th that same year we got married. The preferred date was October 30 eventually. :D
Anyway, we wanted to have an official wedding for everyone including us but it never happened. We didn't have the money, we got fat, my medical issues, it's just been ongoing. :/ We finally just got tired of lying to everyone so we decided to start telling people a couple of weeks ago on my birthday. So now it's out and you know. I'm sorry to those I haven't been able to tell in person. I'm sorry to those who feel betrayed.
A friend offered the possibility of their back yard for a ceremony so we may have one yet but it hasn't been decided. When we know, you will know. :*)
Introduction Remy
From Sunday, May 24, 2009
One day after my dear Squeekie passed on, I felt very sad and very depressed. So I went by the pet store to look at the cats. I just can't help myself. Every time I go to the pet store I look at all the little babies in there.
There was an older kitten there and I fell in love with him. He was gorgeous. Black but with marbled grays and whites mixed in a muted fashion. The eyes were as green as can be and reminded me so much of Squeeks. At the time, he was named Boo and he was wary of people who walked by the window. I asked if I could see him and after managing to coax him from the cage they had him in, he started rubbing all over me. That was it, I was done. My heart was breaking and I felt like this little baby could help repair it. I wanted another cat that was mine, and mine alone. Yes, Chris would pet him and love him, but he would be my baby just as Squeek was. He most certainly wouldn't be a replacement...just someone to take over where Squeekie left off.
I asked if it was possible to save him for me so I could come back and purchase him the next day. They did so and even though I was meant to come back the next evening, I went at lunch time and paid the adoption fee for Boo. After work I went and signed the adoption paperwork and of course, take him home. Unfortunately I forgot to bring a cat carrier and so they put him in box with holes and that is how he was transported.
We managed to get home and inside and I put him in the bathroom so he could acclimate. I ended up taking him out so Chris could see him and the other cats were shocked, and surprised. It was a little bit early for them, they too were grieving. That is the only thing I regret about getting Remy so quickly after Squeeks death.
Remy was placed back in the bathroom and I went often to visit him so he would feel comfortable and feel better about his new home. He was scared and spent a good portion of the first two weeks in the bathroom cupboards. He would come out if I was in the bathroom and he would rub all over me. I loved it.
I spent the first week or so trying to decide if I wanted to stick with the name Boo or if I wanted something else. I made a list, got opinions and in the end I decided on Remy. He immediately took to the name. It was rather amazing. Almost like he was happy with a different name. Honestly I can't describe how amazingly fast he took to the new name. After a couple of weeks I let him out and we started integrating him with the other two cats. Snorkle took to him, but was obviously still missing Squeek. Ana was just bitchy. She still doesn't really like him but she tolerates him. Snorkle adores him and they play and wrestle often.
It has been 4 months now and a few days and Remy is finally getting used to Chris but he visits me several times a night to lick my nose and face and love on me. He will sometimes come and sleep with me which makes me happy since I miss having my Squeekie Bear laying with me. Remy is nothing but love. He is not bad on purpose, he is just sweet. He even tries to rub on Ana until she gets bitchy to him.
Here is my new sweet baby boy. I love him very much and I hope things continue to progress as they have been.
One day after my dear Squeekie passed on, I felt very sad and very depressed. So I went by the pet store to look at the cats. I just can't help myself. Every time I go to the pet store I look at all the little babies in there.
There was an older kitten there and I fell in love with him. He was gorgeous. Black but with marbled grays and whites mixed in a muted fashion. The eyes were as green as can be and reminded me so much of Squeeks. At the time, he was named Boo and he was wary of people who walked by the window. I asked if I could see him and after managing to coax him from the cage they had him in, he started rubbing all over me. That was it, I was done. My heart was breaking and I felt like this little baby could help repair it. I wanted another cat that was mine, and mine alone. Yes, Chris would pet him and love him, but he would be my baby just as Squeek was. He most certainly wouldn't be a replacement...just someone to take over where Squeekie left off.
I asked if it was possible to save him for me so I could come back and purchase him the next day. They did so and even though I was meant to come back the next evening, I went at lunch time and paid the adoption fee for Boo. After work I went and signed the adoption paperwork and of course, take him home. Unfortunately I forgot to bring a cat carrier and so they put him in box with holes and that is how he was transported.
We managed to get home and inside and I put him in the bathroom so he could acclimate. I ended up taking him out so Chris could see him and the other cats were shocked, and surprised. It was a little bit early for them, they too were grieving. That is the only thing I regret about getting Remy so quickly after Squeeks death.
Remy was placed back in the bathroom and I went often to visit him so he would feel comfortable and feel better about his new home. He was scared and spent a good portion of the first two weeks in the bathroom cupboards. He would come out if I was in the bathroom and he would rub all over me. I loved it.
I spent the first week or so trying to decide if I wanted to stick with the name Boo or if I wanted something else. I made a list, got opinions and in the end I decided on Remy. He immediately took to the name. It was rather amazing. Almost like he was happy with a different name. Honestly I can't describe how amazingly fast he took to the new name. After a couple of weeks I let him out and we started integrating him with the other two cats. Snorkle took to him, but was obviously still missing Squeek. Ana was just bitchy. She still doesn't really like him but she tolerates him. Snorkle adores him and they play and wrestle often.
It has been 4 months now and a few days and Remy is finally getting used to Chris but he visits me several times a night to lick my nose and face and love on me. He will sometimes come and sleep with me which makes me happy since I miss having my Squeekie Bear laying with me. Remy is nothing but love. He is not bad on purpose, he is just sweet. He even tries to rub on Ana until she gets bitchy to him.
Here is my new sweet baby boy. I love him very much and I hope things continue to progress as they have been.
Squeek: Le Chat est Mort, Viva Le Chat!
From Tuesday, January 20, 2009
On Sunday evening, approximately around 10:05 PM, Squeek passed away from liver cancer.
I guess around 6-7 months ago he began losing weight and because he was 13, I attributed this to his age. I never would have thought it meant he had a tumor eating away at him. The thought makes me so sad, I can't express it.
Squeek wasn't just a cat to me. He was my Squeeky Bear. My kitty cat teddy bear. He would cuddle me at night, sleeping right next to my face, the closer the better for him. Without fail he was there when I went to sleep and he would be there when I woke up. In the morning, I would give him a kiss, go to the bathroom for a shower where he would wait for me to finish. He was my sweet baby, when he wasn't being obstinate about something.
Near the end of September I was worried about him but I thought it was maybe just an bacterial infection or something. In October I went on my first work trip and Squeek appeared to be doing fine, with the exception of that original weight loss. I came back two weeks later and he appeared to a little thinner but no worse for the wear really, just seemed to miss me. I missed him too of course...I hate being away from my baby.
I had to leave for work travel once again two weeks later so off to Phoenix I went. During my time away I was keeping up with my family via my home computer's video camera. They couldn't see me but I could see them. It made my journey away a bit less harrowing. I saw Snorkle a lot, he seemed to pop into the room when he heard my voice. Squeek and Ana, far less so. When I came back from that trip, Squeek had lost enough weight for me to be really worried. I wondered if he was having separation anxiety. Cats are known for this, especially if their owner is gone for a significant amount of time. Naturally, we went to the vet at this time. They did lots of tests on him, including an x-ray searching for tumors. None were found. I was told all his organs looked really healthy and he didn't have FIV or Leukemia. The vet wanted to do an ultra-sound but I didn't see the point of that since nothing showed up on the x-ray. Assuming it was an infection at that point, he was given an anti-biotic. He improved a great deal, evening gaining weight but I had to leave again.
This time I was gone until nearly Christmas, another two week trip. When I came back he was good for about a week and a half and then he was running fevers and feeling ill. I called the vet hoping to get a refill on meds. I had to take him in once again and this time I saw my regular vet. The time before it was one of his younger doctors. This time the doctor pointed out that Squeek had Jaundice. I was naturally worried because I know this can kill. He showed me that the original blood test showed a higher number of Bilirubin. Normally, bilirubin passes through the liver and is excreted as bile through the intestines. Jaundice occurs when bilirubin builds up faster than a cat's liver can break it down and pass it from the body. Just in case you didn't already know that. The normal bilirubin in a cat ranges between .01 and .04, Squeek had .05 so it wasn't terribly high. The doctor was afraid it might be a tumor but hoped it was just a bad infection. He did give me more meds and I gave them to Squeek. It took about 3 days but he started looking better. The jaundice actually got worse but then it started receding. I could tell by shining a light through his ear. The yellow at once point was at the tip of his ear but then it started going back down his ear. I had high hopes.
When I called the doctor again he suggested fluids under the skin. I did this too for four days. Squeek was ok and then on Friday he jumped from my lap to Chris' chair. I guess he just wanted some alone time which I took to be a good sign. However, in the process of jumping, he missed with his back legs and his body slammed into the side of the chair. This made me cringe and coddle him, hoping it was just a one time thing. He started having more difficulty getting into chairs after that and I noticed a limp. By Saturday he wasn't eating nearly as much. Saturday night he didn't sleep with me. I pretty much didn't sleep that night, every noise woke me and I heard him struggle to go to the liter box which is in the secondary bathrooms bathtub. I got up and grabbed a spare liter box and set it up on the bathroom floor, I couldn't have him suffering. I found throw up of his food from a few hours before on the floor.
When I woke up at 9 AM Sunday to prepare for work I was so exhausted I felt nauseous. I checked on Squeek and worried. I wrote an email to my boss to tell him I wasn't coming in due to exhaustion and Squeek. He already knew things weren't going well. I picked Squeek up and brought him back to bed with me where he stayed for perhaps a couple of mins. I got back up and offered him food. He liked the smell, it interested him. He loves Tuna and I had been feeding him that fairly often recently. He took one lick and then went away. He wouldn't eat. He did however drink a ton of water. This kept him going for most of the day.
By early evening, he could barely walk, couldn't meow and was still refusing to eat. Chris even cooked him shrimp which Squeek adored more than Tuna and he smelled it but then wouldn't eat. He finally stopped even drinking water.
At one point, I grabbed a book and went to the living room and sat in his and my favorite chair. I pulled him onto my lap where he laid for hours. When he lost the ability to get up to go urinate I knew it was the end of the line for my poor baby. I cleaned myself up and changed and went back to the living room. That is where I found Squeek, on the living room floor, just staring and laying in a horribly uncomfortable position. I picked him up and headed back to the comfy chair where we sat for an hour or so.
Chris had been sleeping and I yelled to him. Thankfully he woke up and we had a talk about taking Squeek to an emergency Clinic for a peaceful death. Originally we decided to take him to my regular vet for this the next day. Squeek wasn't going to make it that long and I didn't want my baby suffering any more, no matter how much it was going to kill me. My heart was breaking...all day it broke a little more.
We finally made our way to the vet, me holding my limp baby who cried in a scared fashion several times. I couldn't stand it. I didn't want him to be scared just before dying. It ripped my heart to pieces. When we got there, I couldn't talk at all, I could only hold Squeek and cry. Some lady whose dog was on morphine (thankfully) grabbed a box of tissues for me. I don't think she knew what was going on with my situation but she obviously felt bad. Squeek finally noticed the dog and got scared all over again. I shielded his eyes and this calmed him down. Eventually I had to turn him towards the wall to resolve this issue.
They called us into the room and so I gathered Squeeky in my arms once more and walked down the never ending hallway. I started crying more and Squeek suddenly twisted and contorted, his paws shooting out and reaching for something but only finding air, and cried out. I couldn't figure out why but Chris and my mom both feel that perhaps the way I held him caused some shooting pain. I thought perhaps the smells made him realize where he was. I calmed him down and we reached the room where a towel was laid out. As instructed, I laid him down and began to pet him. He just laid there without moving.
The assistant took him away for a few mins to insert a catheter in his leg. When she brought him back he was sprawled out in what I can only assume was the more comfortable way for him to lay. We had a few mins before the doctor came in and I was able to tell him how much I loved him and how much I would miss him. I also told him that this was so he wouldn't suffer any more and he could find peace. He was only able to focus on me with one eye at this point and he seemed to respond to me. The doctor came in and explained what was going to happen. She turned him to where she could reach his paw and he was staring at me. I told him I loved him once again. She gave him a sleep anesthetic which basically made him sleep as if for surgery. After that, she injected what is effectively an anesthetic over dose and stops his heart. My baby was gone. She gave us a few minutes with him before taking him away to put him in a box for us. All I could do was pet him and pet him over and over.
Behind me, and a bit to my surprise Chris was crying too. Not that I thought he didn't care, I was just surprised to see that he was going to miss Squeek that much too. I just didn't know he cared that much for Squeek.
The doctor came back, collected Squeek and they put him in a box for us, closed his eyes and I assumed, curled him up a bit like a cat sleeping. I didn't look because I couldn't. They told me they would close his eyes but nothing about his positioning.
We took him home and placed him in the living room until bed time (many hours of drowning myself in TV to dull the pain) when I put his box in my office chair where he liked to sit if I wasn't there. Early this evening, we buried my baby in my mothers back yard after making a pine coffin for him. We built it around the box he was put in.
I don't have enough pictures or video of him. I spent so much time taking pictures of Snorkle I never thought to snap more of Squeek. This is something I will always regret but I will cherish the pictures I do have. I expected him to be around for quite a few more years. His spirit was so strong and so sweet, how could I have seen something like this coming?
And now I mourn for my baby called Squeek. He was the light of my life for 13 and 1/2 years. I will miss him so much he will never know. He made my day when things were hard, he comforted me when things were bad, or I was ill. His hugs made me happy, his antics made me laugh, and his obstinate behavior at times made me angry, but most of all he made me love him. It's so hard for me to sleep now because he isn't here. There is a void in my life that is so blatantly obvious; and I try not to think about him because it only makes me cry for the loss of him. I have cried so much I think I shall run out of tears soon.
On Sunday evening, approximately around 10:05 PM, Squeek passed away from liver cancer.
I guess around 6-7 months ago he began losing weight and because he was 13, I attributed this to his age. I never would have thought it meant he had a tumor eating away at him. The thought makes me so sad, I can't express it.
Squeek wasn't just a cat to me. He was my Squeeky Bear. My kitty cat teddy bear. He would cuddle me at night, sleeping right next to my face, the closer the better for him. Without fail he was there when I went to sleep and he would be there when I woke up. In the morning, I would give him a kiss, go to the bathroom for a shower where he would wait for me to finish. He was my sweet baby, when he wasn't being obstinate about something.
Near the end of September I was worried about him but I thought it was maybe just an bacterial infection or something. In October I went on my first work trip and Squeek appeared to be doing fine, with the exception of that original weight loss. I came back two weeks later and he appeared to a little thinner but no worse for the wear really, just seemed to miss me. I missed him too of course...I hate being away from my baby.
I had to leave for work travel once again two weeks later so off to Phoenix I went. During my time away I was keeping up with my family via my home computer's video camera. They couldn't see me but I could see them. It made my journey away a bit less harrowing. I saw Snorkle a lot, he seemed to pop into the room when he heard my voice. Squeek and Ana, far less so. When I came back from that trip, Squeek had lost enough weight for me to be really worried. I wondered if he was having separation anxiety. Cats are known for this, especially if their owner is gone for a significant amount of time. Naturally, we went to the vet at this time. They did lots of tests on him, including an x-ray searching for tumors. None were found. I was told all his organs looked really healthy and he didn't have FIV or Leukemia. The vet wanted to do an ultra-sound but I didn't see the point of that since nothing showed up on the x-ray. Assuming it was an infection at that point, he was given an anti-biotic. He improved a great deal, evening gaining weight but I had to leave again.
This time I was gone until nearly Christmas, another two week trip. When I came back he was good for about a week and a half and then he was running fevers and feeling ill. I called the vet hoping to get a refill on meds. I had to take him in once again and this time I saw my regular vet. The time before it was one of his younger doctors. This time the doctor pointed out that Squeek had Jaundice. I was naturally worried because I know this can kill. He showed me that the original blood test showed a higher number of Bilirubin. Normally, bilirubin passes through the liver and is excreted as bile through the intestines. Jaundice occurs when bilirubin builds up faster than a cat's liver can break it down and pass it from the body. Just in case you didn't already know that. The normal bilirubin in a cat ranges between .01 and .04, Squeek had .05 so it wasn't terribly high. The doctor was afraid it might be a tumor but hoped it was just a bad infection. He did give me more meds and I gave them to Squeek. It took about 3 days but he started looking better. The jaundice actually got worse but then it started receding. I could tell by shining a light through his ear. The yellow at once point was at the tip of his ear but then it started going back down his ear. I had high hopes.
When I called the doctor again he suggested fluids under the skin. I did this too for four days. Squeek was ok and then on Friday he jumped from my lap to Chris' chair. I guess he just wanted some alone time which I took to be a good sign. However, in the process of jumping, he missed with his back legs and his body slammed into the side of the chair. This made me cringe and coddle him, hoping it was just a one time thing. He started having more difficulty getting into chairs after that and I noticed a limp. By Saturday he wasn't eating nearly as much. Saturday night he didn't sleep with me. I pretty much didn't sleep that night, every noise woke me and I heard him struggle to go to the liter box which is in the secondary bathrooms bathtub. I got up and grabbed a spare liter box and set it up on the bathroom floor, I couldn't have him suffering. I found throw up of his food from a few hours before on the floor.
When I woke up at 9 AM Sunday to prepare for work I was so exhausted I felt nauseous. I checked on Squeek and worried. I wrote an email to my boss to tell him I wasn't coming in due to exhaustion and Squeek. He already knew things weren't going well. I picked Squeek up and brought him back to bed with me where he stayed for perhaps a couple of mins. I got back up and offered him food. He liked the smell, it interested him. He loves Tuna and I had been feeding him that fairly often recently. He took one lick and then went away. He wouldn't eat. He did however drink a ton of water. This kept him going for most of the day.
By early evening, he could barely walk, couldn't meow and was still refusing to eat. Chris even cooked him shrimp which Squeek adored more than Tuna and he smelled it but then wouldn't eat. He finally stopped even drinking water.
At one point, I grabbed a book and went to the living room and sat in his and my favorite chair. I pulled him onto my lap where he laid for hours. When he lost the ability to get up to go urinate I knew it was the end of the line for my poor baby. I cleaned myself up and changed and went back to the living room. That is where I found Squeek, on the living room floor, just staring and laying in a horribly uncomfortable position. I picked him up and headed back to the comfy chair where we sat for an hour or so.
Chris had been sleeping and I yelled to him. Thankfully he woke up and we had a talk about taking Squeek to an emergency Clinic for a peaceful death. Originally we decided to take him to my regular vet for this the next day. Squeek wasn't going to make it that long and I didn't want my baby suffering any more, no matter how much it was going to kill me. My heart was breaking...all day it broke a little more.
We finally made our way to the vet, me holding my limp baby who cried in a scared fashion several times. I couldn't stand it. I didn't want him to be scared just before dying. It ripped my heart to pieces. When we got there, I couldn't talk at all, I could only hold Squeek and cry. Some lady whose dog was on morphine (thankfully) grabbed a box of tissues for me. I don't think she knew what was going on with my situation but she obviously felt bad. Squeek finally noticed the dog and got scared all over again. I shielded his eyes and this calmed him down. Eventually I had to turn him towards the wall to resolve this issue.
They called us into the room and so I gathered Squeeky in my arms once more and walked down the never ending hallway. I started crying more and Squeek suddenly twisted and contorted, his paws shooting out and reaching for something but only finding air, and cried out. I couldn't figure out why but Chris and my mom both feel that perhaps the way I held him caused some shooting pain. I thought perhaps the smells made him realize where he was. I calmed him down and we reached the room where a towel was laid out. As instructed, I laid him down and began to pet him. He just laid there without moving.
The assistant took him away for a few mins to insert a catheter in his leg. When she brought him back he was sprawled out in what I can only assume was the more comfortable way for him to lay. We had a few mins before the doctor came in and I was able to tell him how much I loved him and how much I would miss him. I also told him that this was so he wouldn't suffer any more and he could find peace. He was only able to focus on me with one eye at this point and he seemed to respond to me. The doctor came in and explained what was going to happen. She turned him to where she could reach his paw and he was staring at me. I told him I loved him once again. She gave him a sleep anesthetic which basically made him sleep as if for surgery. After that, she injected what is effectively an anesthetic over dose and stops his heart. My baby was gone. She gave us a few minutes with him before taking him away to put him in a box for us. All I could do was pet him and pet him over and over.
Behind me, and a bit to my surprise Chris was crying too. Not that I thought he didn't care, I was just surprised to see that he was going to miss Squeek that much too. I just didn't know he cared that much for Squeek.
The doctor came back, collected Squeek and they put him in a box for us, closed his eyes and I assumed, curled him up a bit like a cat sleeping. I didn't look because I couldn't. They told me they would close his eyes but nothing about his positioning.
We took him home and placed him in the living room until bed time (many hours of drowning myself in TV to dull the pain) when I put his box in my office chair where he liked to sit if I wasn't there. Early this evening, we buried my baby in my mothers back yard after making a pine coffin for him. We built it around the box he was put in.
I don't have enough pictures or video of him. I spent so much time taking pictures of Snorkle I never thought to snap more of Squeek. This is something I will always regret but I will cherish the pictures I do have. I expected him to be around for quite a few more years. His spirit was so strong and so sweet, how could I have seen something like this coming?
And now I mourn for my baby called Squeek. He was the light of my life for 13 and 1/2 years. I will miss him so much he will never know. He made my day when things were hard, he comforted me when things were bad, or I was ill. His hugs made me happy, his antics made me laugh, and his obstinate behavior at times made me angry, but most of all he made me love him. It's so hard for me to sleep now because he isn't here. There is a void in my life that is so blatantly obvious; and I try not to think about him because it only makes me cry for the loss of him. I have cried so much I think I shall run out of tears soon.
Monday, September 13, 2010
The Evil Grandmother that I Love
From Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Sunday, I went to say goodbye to my grandmother whom I've despised for years now. She is going to die any day now and this past weekend was my last chance to go see her.
In the beginning the trip was for my grandfather, to support him and show I care. In the end, it ended up being about my grandmother.
She's a racist, bigoted, superficial woman who believes that women are only worth something if they are married, and beauty is more important than brains. It's all very old fashioned, and without making excuses for her, she grew up in Georgia before segregation was demolished. While my grandfather moved on, she didn't and stuck to her horrible ways. She's never told anyone that she loved them, she was always judgmental, speaking loudly and embarrassingly about other people's faux pas. She was bitter and honestly, I think my grandfather is a saint for staying with her all these years. They married when he was 21 and she was 25 (an old maid back then). He is now 90 and she is 94.
When I got to Waco, I met everyone at the Golden Corral and from there we went to the nursing home in which my grandmother has been placed for comfort and safety. It's a really nice place as far as nursing homes go...granted I don't make a habit of visiting them. They very kindly put her in her own room so family members can say goodbye. She has congenital heart failure, an intestinal disease of some sort and a malignant tumor in her intestines. No doubt she is in pain.
Last time I saw my grandmother she was skinnier than normal but when I saw her Sunday it was shocking. She looked like a skeleton with skin. I sat next to her and talked to her while my Mom dripped water into her mouth with a straw. That's the only way she can drink now and she gets really dry mouth and throat because of the oxygen and keeping her mouth open so much. She has always been small in stature but lying in that bed, she looked absolutely tiny.
At one point everyone (Mom, Aunt and Uncle) left the room to talk about arrangements and my Grandfather went and stood in the doorway leaving just me and my grandmother. I've dealt with death so many times in my life it's almost natural to deal with now. Sitting there talking to her and looking at her, I started crying. I didn't want anyone to see though, especially my grandfather because he has had such a hard time dealing with her decline.Apparently my grandfather saw me crying even though I refused to sob out loud and I kept drying my eyes...a lot. I tried so hard not to cry but it just kept coming. It was kind of shocking because I've despised her and the hateful things she would say to me and about others, yet here I was crying...and I was the only one! The others told me they hadn't cried. I don't know about my sister or my cousin Lisa because they have been to take care of my grandfather and visit my grandmother but my grandfather treated me like I was the only one who had cried. He kept telling me what a great person I was and how sensitive I am. That made me cry even more. Thing is, he knows how I feel about my grandmother because my Mom told him when he asked why I didn't come to visit very often.
It just really broke my heart seeing her in that condition and deep down I really do love her. It was the same with my father though, I was so mad at him and hated him for things he did and said but I loved him and miss him, sometimes terribly so.
So, I am waiting, along with my family, for my grandmother to pass on. And it makes me sad.
Sunday, I went to say goodbye to my grandmother whom I've despised for years now. She is going to die any day now and this past weekend was my last chance to go see her.
In the beginning the trip was for my grandfather, to support him and show I care. In the end, it ended up being about my grandmother.
She's a racist, bigoted, superficial woman who believes that women are only worth something if they are married, and beauty is more important than brains. It's all very old fashioned, and without making excuses for her, she grew up in Georgia before segregation was demolished. While my grandfather moved on, she didn't and stuck to her horrible ways. She's never told anyone that she loved them, she was always judgmental, speaking loudly and embarrassingly about other people's faux pas. She was bitter and honestly, I think my grandfather is a saint for staying with her all these years. They married when he was 21 and she was 25 (an old maid back then). He is now 90 and she is 94.
When I got to Waco, I met everyone at the Golden Corral and from there we went to the nursing home in which my grandmother has been placed for comfort and safety. It's a really nice place as far as nursing homes go...granted I don't make a habit of visiting them. They very kindly put her in her own room so family members can say goodbye. She has congenital heart failure, an intestinal disease of some sort and a malignant tumor in her intestines. No doubt she is in pain.
Last time I saw my grandmother she was skinnier than normal but when I saw her Sunday it was shocking. She looked like a skeleton with skin. I sat next to her and talked to her while my Mom dripped water into her mouth with a straw. That's the only way she can drink now and she gets really dry mouth and throat because of the oxygen and keeping her mouth open so much. She has always been small in stature but lying in that bed, she looked absolutely tiny.
At one point everyone (Mom, Aunt and Uncle) left the room to talk about arrangements and my Grandfather went and stood in the doorway leaving just me and my grandmother. I've dealt with death so many times in my life it's almost natural to deal with now. Sitting there talking to her and looking at her, I started crying. I didn't want anyone to see though, especially my grandfather because he has had such a hard time dealing with her decline.Apparently my grandfather saw me crying even though I refused to sob out loud and I kept drying my eyes...a lot. I tried so hard not to cry but it just kept coming. It was kind of shocking because I've despised her and the hateful things she would say to me and about others, yet here I was crying...and I was the only one! The others told me they hadn't cried. I don't know about my sister or my cousin Lisa because they have been to take care of my grandfather and visit my grandmother but my grandfather treated me like I was the only one who had cried. He kept telling me what a great person I was and how sensitive I am. That made me cry even more. Thing is, he knows how I feel about my grandmother because my Mom told him when he asked why I didn't come to visit very often.
It just really broke my heart seeing her in that condition and deep down I really do love her. It was the same with my father though, I was so mad at him and hated him for things he did and said but I loved him and miss him, sometimes terribly so.
So, I am waiting, along with my family, for my grandmother to pass on. And it makes me sad.
The Saga Continues
From Wednesday, May 28, 2008
I went to see the regular GP doctor yesterday and he told me something I find to be rather scary. It scared me so much I spent a good portion of the day crying and even called my mother after the appointment. He's been giving me medications like Cymbalta and Lyrica, telling me they are medications for seizures and things like that but they work for headache suppressants as well. Then he was asking me questions about other pains in my body and we talked about that for a bit. He asked me about my moods and asked me if I was forgetful or ditzy or anything to which I laughed and said no more than usual lately. He nodded and typed that up. Then at the end of the session he said he thinks I might have Fibromyalgia. That pretty much slapped the good(ish) mood right out of me. I only know about Fibro because of my niece who has it. I know it's not a pleasant disorder and I sincerely hope my doctor is wrong. (No offense Jodi.) He asked me to go back to see my neurologist and to get an MRA done to make sure I don't have an aneurysm as well.
I saw the Neurologist today, the same one as before as apparently other neurologists in town don't want to specialize in headaches and suggested I go back there. So I did. Well she treated me much better after hearing everything I've been through and that the other doctor thinks it might be Fibro. After we talked for a while she seemed to be in agreement with him. :/ So I'm going to be taking Lyrica and starting very slowly to see if I can tolerate it that way and see how it goes.
Needless to say I'm not a happy camper at all. My sinus surgery went ok on the other hand. I can smell REALLY well now. I was able smell pretty well before but now it's just kind of obnoxious. Breathing through the nose is better. Now if the nasal drip would stop all would be well. :*) Yummy. My nose still hurts though, but I go to see the doc who did the surgery on a followup tomorrow so we see how things are going on that end. Hurrah.
I went to see the regular GP doctor yesterday and he told me something I find to be rather scary. It scared me so much I spent a good portion of the day crying and even called my mother after the appointment. He's been giving me medications like Cymbalta and Lyrica, telling me they are medications for seizures and things like that but they work for headache suppressants as well. Then he was asking me questions about other pains in my body and we talked about that for a bit. He asked me about my moods and asked me if I was forgetful or ditzy or anything to which I laughed and said no more than usual lately. He nodded and typed that up. Then at the end of the session he said he thinks I might have Fibromyalgia. That pretty much slapped the good(ish) mood right out of me. I only know about Fibro because of my niece who has it. I know it's not a pleasant disorder and I sincerely hope my doctor is wrong. (No offense Jodi.) He asked me to go back to see my neurologist and to get an MRA done to make sure I don't have an aneurysm as well.
I saw the Neurologist today, the same one as before as apparently other neurologists in town don't want to specialize in headaches and suggested I go back there. So I did. Well she treated me much better after hearing everything I've been through and that the other doctor thinks it might be Fibro. After we talked for a while she seemed to be in agreement with him. :/ So I'm going to be taking Lyrica and starting very slowly to see if I can tolerate it that way and see how it goes.
Needless to say I'm not a happy camper at all. My sinus surgery went ok on the other hand. I can smell REALLY well now. I was able smell pretty well before but now it's just kind of obnoxious. Breathing through the nose is better. Now if the nasal drip would stop all would be well. :*) Yummy. My nose still hurts though, but I go to see the doc who did the surgery on a followup tomorrow so we see how things are going on that end. Hurrah.
Cell phones while driving should be banned!
From Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Today some fucking prick hit me from behind because he was talking on his cell phone and wasn't paying attention like he should have been. It was on the highway in stop and go traffic. I wrote down stuff from his no name insurance card which was confusing and wrote down the wrong stuff, so now I can't fix my car unless I pay a $500 deductible. I'm not having a good day. This is why people shouldn't talk on their cell phones while driving. I kept seeing him looking down and everywhere but the road. I'm so mad. I think I scared him cause he was really nervous and I got out yelling at him. Course I should've written down his correct info and gotten his phone number but I was more concerned about not getting run over by someone else not paying attention. What a shitty day. :*(
Today some fucking prick hit me from behind because he was talking on his cell phone and wasn't paying attention like he should have been. It was on the highway in stop and go traffic. I wrote down stuff from his no name insurance card which was confusing and wrote down the wrong stuff, so now I can't fix my car unless I pay a $500 deductible. I'm not having a good day. This is why people shouldn't talk on their cell phones while driving. I kept seeing him looking down and everywhere but the road. I'm so mad. I think I scared him cause he was really nervous and I got out yelling at him. Course I should've written down his correct info and gotten his phone number but I was more concerned about not getting run over by someone else not paying attention. What a shitty day. :*(
An end in sight...yay!
From Thursday, April 17, 2008
Ok, went to my fourth doc, second specialist today. Wooooooo. This one is an ear, nose, throat specialist. I explain my history from Feb, my history before that, etc. He looks at my CT scan and points out that I have tiny nasal passages. Basically my sinuses can't drain properly. He said I also have inflamed turbinates and a deviated septum (knew the last part).
So he gives me a couple of options. The most aggressive and likely to resolve the issue is balloon sinuplasty. It's minimally invasive surgery that opens the nasal passage ways by pushing the bone out of the way by inflating a balloon in again the bone. He's also going to fix the turbinate thing...not going to describe that cause it was gross and he may or may not fix the deviated septum, I guess he'll decide while he's in there. mmmm. So that's what we're doing. Unfortunately he doesn't have anything open 'til May 15. :/ And that's the week before my birthday. Boooo. Oh well. C'est la vie.
This should resolve the migraines and the sinus infections though...sweet deal. :*) Woot! And then I can go back to work and no more cabin fever.
Ok, went to my fourth doc, second specialist today. Wooooooo. This one is an ear, nose, throat specialist. I explain my history from Feb, my history before that, etc. He looks at my CT scan and points out that I have tiny nasal passages. Basically my sinuses can't drain properly. He said I also have inflamed turbinates and a deviated septum (knew the last part).
So he gives me a couple of options. The most aggressive and likely to resolve the issue is balloon sinuplasty. It's minimally invasive surgery that opens the nasal passage ways by pushing the bone out of the way by inflating a balloon in again the bone. He's also going to fix the turbinate thing...not going to describe that cause it was gross and he may or may not fix the deviated septum, I guess he'll decide while he's in there. mmmm. So that's what we're doing. Unfortunately he doesn't have anything open 'til May 15. :/ And that's the week before my birthday. Boooo. Oh well. C'est la vie.
This should resolve the migraines and the sinus infections though...sweet deal. :*) Woot! And then I can go back to work and no more cabin fever.
I’m sorry, did you say fungus?
From Thursday, April 03, 2008
So the last three days or so I’ve felt like I’ve been hit by a wrecking ball physically. my sinuses haven’t really cleared up much but as I mentioned before the headache got less intense. Yay! So naturally I thought I was getting better. Well the doc says no. He says what I have can’t be bacterial, it must be fungal. Basically, bacteria shouldn’t still be here this long this strong. So he scrapes my tongue looking for yeast. I think good lord that’s disgusting. He finds some, I think that’s even more disgusting! He says it must be fungal. Basically my sinuses are clogged with a fungal infection. WTF!? Apparently I have been on too many freaking anti-biotics this last year or something and the last time...in November... all the bacteria was killed including the good stuff which is normal, but the good stuff didn’t come back, which is not. Boo. I would now like to strangle the back-up doc I saw who kept putting me on anti-biotics so much. grrrr.
Now I’m on an anti-fungal med as well as the 10 other medications I was recently put on. I’m a little worried for my liver at this point. :/ The headaches persist but that’s because the infection isn’t truly under control yet. And they put me on a steroid today which makes me very very unhappy. I don’t want to be a manly girl ffs. It’s short term though so if it helps this go away I will deal with it. But I’m not happy about it! Grrr.
I guess the good news behind all this is maybe if I get all this cleared up I can hope that all my illnesses are a thing of the past except the occasional sinus infection. *crosses fingers*
Oh and the weirdest thing about all of this is I drink a Dan active yogurt drink every freaking morning for breakfast so how can I NOT have good bacteria???????????
Now I’m on an anti-fungal med as well as the 10 other medications I was recently put on. I’m a little worried for my liver at this point. :/ The headaches persist but that’s because the infection isn’t truly under control yet. And they put me on a steroid today which makes me very very unhappy. I don’t want to be a manly girl ffs. It’s short term though so if it helps this go away I will deal with it. But I’m not happy about it! Grrr.
I guess the good news behind all this is maybe if I get all this cleared up I can hope that all my illnesses are a thing of the past except the occasional sinus infection. *crosses fingers*
Oh and the weirdest thing about all of this is I drink a Dan active yogurt drink every freaking morning for breakfast so how can I NOT have good bacteria???????????
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