Babe, Where's My Drawers?

Drastic Measures

2011-08-10T12:15:00.000-05:00

I haven't spoken about it in a long while, but most everyone I know, knows how badly JT & I want a kid. I drove myself crazy (crazier?) thinking of ways to bring a lil Star Key into the household, but alas, its just not meant to be. Maybe at some point down the road, we'll be able to afford adoption or surrogacy, but at this point, a biological child is not in our cards.

Which got me thinking . . . Why am I holding on to parts that I don't really need? Life would be so much simplier if I got rid of the old baby baker (which is just collecting dust and causing all sorts of problems). I could go swimming, ride ponies, wear white hot pants - all kinds of craziness could ensue. But seriously, why go through the heartache each and every month, the constant reminder of what will never be? And this would put an end to the little, bitty, tiny piece of hope I have that this month something might have slipped by the BC Enforcers.

So what do you think? Should I shed an organ or at least get the play pen lasered out?

Somebody Give Me Back My Rug!!!!

2011-08-09T06:44:00.000-05:00

I know, its been awhile. Blah, blah blah, I'll try to do better. Blah, blah. I've said it all before. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Anyway!

I have a new shrink, Dr Shrinky Do. She's quite good, but she is on my crap list. You see, I'm schizo-affective. I was devastated when I got the diagnosis, but after doing the research, I realized it actually fit me and made sense. It resonated with me. So I was a happy little schizo, doing my happy little schizo dance between normalcy and psychosis. All was right in the world, until 2 weeks ago when Dr Shrinky Do decided to she wanted to steal my rug. Not only did she steal that bitch, she ripped it right out from underneath me. She decided that I was not, nor have I ever been, schizo-affective. I am bipolar. What the hell?! I've researched bi polar (seeing as JT is bipolar, I have to know what I am dealing with). I am not bipolar. There is no resonance there. Just a loud clanging that is jarring to my soul. Bipolar my ass.

When I asked Dr SD about this new diagnosis, she stated that I was too clean and well kept to be schizo. Um, well I'm also medicated. Unmedicated. . . let's just say things get real ugly, real fast. Showers are optional to say the least. I can't believe I'm sharing this, but even medicated, showers are a forced hobby that occur hopefully every other day. I really do try for every day, but some days, getting in the that little rectangle from hell is just too much. God only knows what would happen if I didn't have to go to work everyday. Wait, I do know what happens. Hygiene goes right out the window and I'm asking Jeff to check my pits just to watch his reaction (which is really funny to watch someone give themselves whip lash just from a smell). It slays me, but I digress. Sure I fit some of the things of bipolar, but I am more schizo with a bipolar flair.

I don't know why her changing my diagnosis bothers me so much. I talked to my therapist about it and even she agrees with me; Schizo is a much better fit. My first 3 shrinks each diagnosed me as schizo, as well as my therapist. Now suddenly, I'm supposed to be bipolar? Something stinks and its not me. Therapist is trying to get me to understand that it is just a label and I am not a label, but a real person. But when your label has become your reality for over a year and suddenly someone is telling you that your reality is wrong, but here, try shoving this new reality down your gullet and see how it fits, it puts all kinds of doubts in your head about what is real and what isn't.

I guess one up side to all this is that the treatment is the same for both diagnosis and so far the meds seem to be helping for the most part. Therapist suggested I get a second opinion, but I don't want to change shrinks again. I finally found one I like and as long as the meds are working, I guess I can't complain too much. I can keep doing my schizo dance, in private.

My Nemisis- The Book of Face

2011-02-07T17:41:00.000-06:00

Oh Book of Face . . . How you have betrayed me! You were supposed to make it easier to keep up with friends and all the going ons in their lives. Instead you made me a lazy friend. A really lazy friend. The type of friend who has no idea what is actually going on in the Friendship World. And I hate you for that.

Sure, I get the happy little glimpses and the tip of the surface that they allow me to see. But the real stuff, the actual things that matter, no freakin idea until its too late and they're gone. Where were you on that BoF?

So I bid you adieu Book of Face. You suck. Bawls. Big hairy bawls. With bawl cheese.

Guess There's Always a Puppy

2010-09-30T21:42:00.000-05:00

A boxer puppy that we'll name River. Wait, 2 boxer puppies named River & Rex. And they'll be so well behaved everyone will love them and want to snuggle them forever. Or a tortoise.

As I stated before, I was nervous about this appointment. So my mom picked me up from work to come with me. I needed a little fortifying, so we stopped at happy hour for some happy juice. After the juice kicked in, we headed over to Dr Baby Maker's office. The one downside to his office is that he always runs late. Like really late. My appointment was at 2:45 and I wasn't called back until 3:30ish. He didnt actually come in the room for another 15 minutes or so. The giant collage of happy babies on the wall had me sweating bullets by the time he showed up.

After the introductions, he jumped right into it. I have a bun in the oven. Don't get excited. Its a moldy loaf that has been getting bigger and has possibly been impeding my conception chances. Its not cancerous, but it has to come out. So sometime in November I'll be having surgery to remove the loaf. But there's good news. All my other tests came back negative. Once I get the mass out, I'm in the clear fertility wise. Then the fan started up and shit started flying.

Due to other circumstances, the only chance we have of conceiving a biological child will be IVF. $10,000 per session IVF. And I can only do it if I get my BMI below 40. And there's no guarantees that it will work. This was a tad disheartening. On one hand, our new insurance will probably cover it. On the other, is the emotional and physical stress of it. There would be intensive testing and meds and jumping through hoops while juggling poodles. And do I really want to go through that?

Our other option is adoption. I have no qualms about adoption, especially if it means finally having a child of my own. But adoption isn't feasible for us right now. It would be several years down the road before we could even start the process. I guess I'm being greedy, but I want a baby now. My goal was to have a child by next year. I see my family getting older around me and I want my child to be able to grow up among them, with cousins close in age and grandparents that are still around and mobile. With adoption, that's just not possible. Who knows where we or our family will be in the span of time it takes for us to adopt?

Its a lot to process and I've only just begun doing it. The rational side of me says to take it one step at a time, which means starting with the surgery in November. The emotional side of me has already skipped forward to the decision of IVF vs adoption. Which side will win out?

First, You Get a Turkey Baster

2010-09-29T18:07:00.000-05:00

So I didn't get the surgery. It's probably a good thing since I'm still playing around with my meds. Also I'm not happy with myself and having surgery isn't going to fix that. It would help immensely, but it's not a cure all. My new therapist on the other hand, she's doing some things and I must admit they're working. I like her alot. I can say anything to her and I know that she's not judging me, nor will she betray my trust. I feel safe with her, safe enough to trust. That's what I'm working on right now. I'm learning how to let my guard down and trust that everything will be ok. Its not as easy as it seems and is quite daunting, but I'm making good progress. I'm hoping that people will notice and if they don't, just means I need to open up even further. Scary thought, but its refreshing to do. I've been surprised by the reactions I get. I kinda like it.

I also kinda like my new doctor, Dr Baby Maker. He is so funny. He offered to steal a baby for me at my very first appointment. I like that type of forward thinking. Not sure insurance would cover it though. So we stuck with more traditional treatment. He has sent me for numerous tests and blood work. Tomorrow is the big day where we get to go over the results. If I said I wasn't nervous, I'd be a complete liar. We've already gotten some semi-bad news on the baby making front, so I'm preparing myself for the worst tomorrow. Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst. Worst case: I'm a mess inside and wont be able to carry a baby or even use my eggs for surrogacy. The plan for this scenario is to put the baby making aside and try for adoption in a few years. Maybe get a puppy in the mean time to ease the want. Or a fish. A kick ass beta fish that we can enter in underground Fish Fights. We'd dress him in a mini ninja suit and put spurs on his fins. He'd take every opponent down in 5 seconds flat. The Splish Splash of Death- Beta style. Who am I kidding? I hate fish unless they're breaded and deep fried. I digress.

So that's the goings ons in my world. Trying to stay sane and make a baby. Can't be that hard. Everyone else seems to be doing it.

Take a Ride with Me

2010-06-27T22:27:00.000-05:00

I've been on a roller coaster for awhile now. Its jostling me and throwing me all over the place, but I'm trying my best to hang on for the ride.Some days I'm ok. I might even be on the verge of good. I have my smile plastered on and I'm making it.Lately, I've been more down than up. Everything seems to be weighing down on me and I can hardly lift my head, let alone move my body to do anything. Its easier to lay in bed curled under my quilt and think what a failure I am. Needless to say, this isn't healthy for me. I spend more time crying than anything else and the tears aren't helping. They leave me more frustrated and heartbroken. I need a change.

But change is what scares me the most. I'm not having my surgery and return to work on Wednesday. I was actually looking forward to it, but now I'm terrified. The what-ifs are plaguing me. What if they fire me anyway? What if I've forgotten everything I learned? What if? What if? What if I just try and damn the results? It scares me to think that way, but its the attitude I need. I can only do my best and right now I'm no where close to doing that. What if I got out of bed and started working out again? What if I just got out of bed?

I've been putting off this post because I haven't actually worked it out in my head. I re-read some of my old entries and I realized I'm still hanging onto the damn bird. I need to be ok with me as I am before I can start changing things. Otherwise I might change some of the good things and let the bad fester.

The Birds

2010-05-19T17:49:00.001-05:00

As I sat in group today, I came to a realization. She, a patient with no nickname yet, talked about how she could not let go of a relationship, because she was not in control when it ended. She was extremely adamant about getting her questions answered, but rejected group feedback unless it was what she wanted to hear. Holding on was tearing her up, but she wasn't ready to face reality. It got me to thinking about birds, hunting birds more specifically.

I couldn't get the picture of a falconer and a falcon out of my head. The falconer was urging the bird to take flight, but every time the bird lifted off, the falconer would grasp the bird's legs preventing it from take off. Of course a battle would ensue, the bird pecking and shredding the falconer, but she being determined to hold on. How many of us are faced with the same battle? What is the one thing in our lives that we know we need to let go off but can't let our hands rest so the beast can finally take flight?

For me, it's my self doubt. The voices really did a number. I no longer truly trust what I think as rational thought. It could be so many other things that it never occurs to me that it could just be me. I haven't had a voice in over a week, but the doubt still eats me up. It gnaws on me, infecting me with negative thoughts until no positive can possible thrive.

So the real question remains: When will I let the damn bird go?

Conclusions

2010-04-28T23:17:00.000-05:00

As I sit here unable to sleep, I came to a conclusion. I need to get more involved in group. I go and participate, but no one knows anything about me except that I hear voices. I'm Voices or Voices Girl (I assume that is the name they have given me seeing as I give everyone their one "nickname". There's Helga, Marlee, Stuff There, Rashes, etc). I know just about everyone's back story, but no one really knows mine. Of course I only have myself to blame for that. I'm used to keeping everything close to the chest. I'm afraid of sharing and not knowing what the response will be. So in a way, I'm still wearing a version of my Happy Mask, which is what got me in this situation to begin with. I want to have the breakthroughs I see everyone having. I guess I feel left out, which is hard to do in a group setting, but it is possible.

I also decided that I need to start journaling. Of course I blog here and most of what I journal could probably go here, but there are some things that I want to keep to myself. Especially as I start digging through my past and figuring out what the hell went wrong. I've only done one vent rant on here about one part of my past and I deleted it before I connected this to my FB acct. It was just too personal. It felt great to finally get those issues off my chest, but it could have been potentially damaging to certain relationships.No regrets about censoring myself on that one occasion, as it was for the best, but I need a space to vent similar issues without fear of damaged relationships or misunderstandings. This is the most I have blogged recently so, maybe it's not so bad here, but sometimes a pen & paper gets the job done.

I think the skittles may be kicking in, which would be awesome. Time to slide down the rainbow on my tongue.

My Jubbles

2010-04-26T11:31:00.001-05:00

Dear Jubilee,
Mommy loves you so much. So much in fact, that she has decided that it'll best if you find a new home. It hurts her immensely to have to even think of letting you go, but she thinks you'll be much happier. Mommy has already found your new home and she thinks that your new mommy is going love you as much but never more. Always remember that.

I love you Jube!

I Am

2010-04-22T22:32:00.000-05:00

I am not stupid.

I am not pointless.

I am not worthless.

I am not the voices.

I am not the delusions.

I am not the paranoia.

I am not a letdown.

I am not a failure.

I am not my past.

I am not my mistakes.

I am not anything that someone else thinks of me.

I am not nothing.

I Am.

Breath

2010-04-22T21:40:00.001-05:00

Any singer worth his salt know you have breath. Not only do you have breath, you have to have breath control. So remember in life, when you hit a sour note, breath through it- slow and steady until you get back on pitch.

Therapy

2010-04-22T08:42:00.001-05:00

Morning therapy sucks. Its a fight to keep my eyes open, so I lose my focus because I'm concentrating so hard on staying awake.

Afternoon therapy is much better. I get a charge from lunch so I'm actually able to participate. So far, therapy has been interesting. Just seeing where everyone is at gives me hope.

I didn't have a good night last night. Didnt sleep very well either. thats my main goal with my dr today: get my meds adjusted so I feel more like me. That is if she ever gets here. Appt was at 8:30. My crazy demands meds.

My Fantasy Future (A Homework Assignment)

2010-04-20T16:01:00.000-05:00

She smiles at her 2 children, finally quiet at play. Young Jango assembling his Star Wars models as Pixie Lu draws her friends in her new sketch pad from her daddy. Seeing her children safe and trying to kill each other, She returns to her studio where the familiar walls are covered in the art of her husband and her gifted little Pixie. Settling in at her desk, she pushes play on her mp3 player and the room fills with the soothing sound of worship and unconditional love. She sings along as she pulls up her latest work and decides between her writing or her photography. Her mind itches with new ideas and she clicks open her word processor, eager to get ideas on paper.

Eventually, sometime not nearly long enough, her 2 silly monkees run into her studio, covered in Pixie Lu's paint. Grinning at them, she takes off after them, running through the house to the delight of their squeals, her heart pumping with love. As they end up outside, She finally catches them and the chase turns into a tickle war as they roll in the warm, green grass, the bright sun beaming down on them. She laughs at their goofiness and 2 sets of flushed cheeks smile back.

Suddenly, their attention shifts and just as quickly they're off, shrieking towards the gate as their father appears. A wide smile creases her face as She follows suit, running into his arms, his strength and love wrapping around her. They whisper their love to each other as Pixie Lu and Jango dance around them, eventually squeezing between them to break up the mushy stuff. Holding hands, they all troop into the house where it is decided that it is Picnic Night, once 2 little paint bugs are clean.

After a long soak in the tube for the monkees, She lays out a blanket in the den. The monkees sprawl across it, picking at their picnic food. She and her husband rest against the couch after their fill, while Jango and Pixie Lu veg out watching Star Wars for the umpteenth time. Eventually Jango crawls into her lap as Pixie does the same to her father. Snuggling into his sweet dark curls, and warm body, She is happy.

The Red Pill or the Blue?

2010-04-18T22:52:00.001-05:00

Its amazing looking back after a psychotic break and realizing how fucked the world I lived in was. I knew without a shadow of doubt that I was going to die young. As I grew older, that turned into someone was following me and watching my every move. Then the "Grand Evolution" was when everyone had a knife and was waiting for the right moment to stab me.

Then the voices. I have always heard voices. I assumed everyone did. When I was a kid, I heard and saw multiple personalities. Most were good, but there were a few that were bad. Eventually those dwindled down to just 2 main characters. Well, those 2 and just random audio. Sometimes kids crying or singing or seeing things moving in the room or across the floor/wall. That was all normal for me.

Now with meds, most of the visual stuff is gone. But the voices are slowly making a come back. The good voice is completely back. The Witch is gaining ground and she is pissed at being forced to leave. that scares me. I know they aren't real, but they are extremely compelling. The Witch wants blood and I'm not sure my current meds will keep her at bay. Which means more little blue pills for me. I want to be mentally healthy, but not at the cost of becoming a zombie. How long will it take to find the correct dosage to combat the voices AND the depression? Both are a hell I don't want any part of.

The Ballad of Lady Izzle and Her Fight Against the Evil Witch

2010-04-16T22:16:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time, in The Land of The ALF, there was a young lady who ruled a kingdom with her Love. This lady was known as Lady Tay Izzle and her Love was Sir J Izzle. Their's was a peaceful land. Though many troubling events had transpired in recent history, Lady Izzle believed that all was well again and that Styrofoam Cup had many good things in their future.

That was until one troubling day when Lady Izzle realized that things weren't quite as they seemed. She wore her Happy Mask daily, assuring her subjects that everything was fine, but inside they were not. An Evil Witch had taken root the Lady Izzle's chambers. She told the Lady how the world really was: how no one was how they really appeared, that they all spoke behind her back and wished the Lady was not around. She convinced the Lady that everything she did or said was just another failure to add to the annuals. The Evil Witch sent many of her servants to confuse the Lady, to watch her to point out everything that she did wrong, to whisper of her failings to all of the Lady's subjects. The Lady Izzle was much tormented, but she still put on her Happy Mask. Cracked as it was, it still did the job of convincing everyone that everything was fine.

Until the one day the Mask shattered . . .

The Evil Witch snatched at her chance. She told the Lady Izzle the only way to make right for her wrongs was to make a blood sacrifice. The Lady was desperate to get a new mask so she did as the Witch said and lashed her legs. But still, the Witch was not satisfied. She told the Lady that her failures had become too grave. The only way to pay for them was with her life. The Lady Izzle knew that she was right and began to plan. She gave away her treasured pets and tried to make things easier for Sir Izzle for after she was gone. She loved him with all her heart but knew that the Witch was right. He and everyone else would be better without her & her never ceasing failures. She planned a photobook with a note for each of her loved ones to help them grieve and leave her in the past. The Lady gave up her hope.

In one final attempt, she sought out her Soothsayer for answers. He quickly saw the Lady Izzle's dilemma. He only knew of one way to vanquish the Evil Witch, but it would involve a quest. The Lady Izzle was scared, but began her journey to the Land of All Saints. . .

And it was from there that my adventure truly began. I was transported to Hugley hospital and admitted to their psychiatric unit. The voices, delusions, and paranoia had gone from worse to hell. But luckily, my team there sees hell daily and knew how to pull me from it. A lot of things happened there (medication being the priority) but the most important thing I learned was that everything that I believed to be true for most of my life was a lie. The voices in my head, the belief that "They" were out to kill me, and all the visual things I saw for most of my life weren't real. I finally had a diagnosis: chronic major depression with psychosis.

I was in Unit 300 for 4 days. The voices are mostly gone, as are the delusions & paranoia. I still have my moments, but I'm able to recognize them for what they are now. And I'm happier for it. To know that all the hell that I was (and still ) going through is able to be treated and has a name is like having a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. I'm going to start my intensive outpatient therapy after my surgery and will probably continue to have my meds adjusted as my Drs figure out if the depression caused the psychosis or if it is the other way around. I'm just glad for the help.

What does this mean to you? Possibly nothing. And not nothing in the sense that you don't care. I know now that I have a great group of friends and family who love me regardless. You'll probably notice some things that I won't. Like I said, this a complete work in progress. Right now I'm stable for the most part. And God willing, that will continue to improve as my treatment progresses. I just wanted to shine some light on the darkness that I've been living in. It'll probably come as a complete surprise to some, maybe not so much to others. Either way, just keep loving me the same as you did before, because I'm learning to love you all again, as well as myself.

I'm in a Good Place

2010-03-21T13:43:00.001-05:00

The past few week has been hellish to say the least. From Bd's stay in a pysch ward, to my own near breakdown, life has been interesting Thanks to the wonders medicine, were back on the right track. theres a few things coming up that could change that. But for now, I'm in a good place.

I'm in a Good Place

2010-03-21T13:42:00.001-05:00

I'm in Love with a Droid

2010-03-19T18:20:00.001-05:00

Maybe this will mean more posts. Or just dirty time with my new phone. Either way, I like it.

Go Brahmas!

I'm in Love with a Droid

2010-03-19T18:19:00.001-05:00

Maybe this will mean more posts. Or just dirty time with my new phone. Either way, I like it.

Go Brahmas!

Dr Friend: The Friend That Isn't

2010-02-27T21:53:00.003-06:00

Well, my affair with Dr Friend is over. She's back to eating her shitty yogurt. I couldn't taker her judgment any longer. I won't pay anyone to judge me and doubt myself. No thank you.

Instead, I will be having biweekly sessions with my friends to drink, facebook, and laugh our faces off. I think it is much healthier that way. AND my friends don't judge me. They love despite all the crazy shit I do. So in your face Dr NOT Friend.

Dr Friend: The Friend That Almost Wasn't

2010-01-27T20:22:00.002-06:00

Finding her building was a bitch. True, her receptionist gave me directions and all that jazz, but I have google maps on my phone and damnit, I was a dispatcher. I know how to find my frigging way.

So after driving around the block I don't know how many times and trying to figure out which flipping building that was closest to the street was actually her building, I finally walked into her office.

I think I must have had shit on my shoes. No, the way she looked at me, I think I had shit smeared all over my face and offered her a shit cone with sprinkles. Needless to say, she didn't seem very impressed.

After failing to explain to her that my primary insurance (the shock and wonder that her face when I mentioned i had a -gasp- secondary insurance) has a health fund attached to it, she sent me off with paperwork & a credit card slip to fill out. I nearly walked out then. I hadn't slept at all the previous night and was already wired with nerves. Now I was on the brink of tears and this broad is already shoving me out the door to fill out a book of paperwork while she gums on her yogurt with shit flavored sprinkles (okay, they probably weren't shit flavored). I almost did it, especially when the flimsy ass bench warped, I shit you not, warped underneath my butt. I just knew my ass was going straight to the floor. But it held. I figured if that bench could tough it out, so could I.

So back to Dr Shitty Friend and Her Shit Sprinkled Yogurt. She sits in her straight from the 70's chair & ottoman set and asks me to take a seat. I have 2 choices: a really low couch or the really low identical twin to her chair. As I turn to the couch, I'm informed I only had one choice, the chair. Silly me, crazies don't get choices.

"So why are you here?"

Those 5 words were the beginning of our beautiful relationship. And you know what? Meds are great and all, but I'm still crazy!!!! She summed me up perfectly: I'm scared to die, but I'm terrified to live. I know exactly how to kill myself, but the thought of hell and hurting my family and friends keeps me from that edge. I know what I want to do with my life and how to do it, but the fear of screwing it up keeps me from that path. So I'm stuck in between and beating myself up over it. It's time to shit or get off the pot or I'm going to be stuck with monster hemorrhoids for the rest of my life.

So we set up a game plan. I have homework for the first time in years. I have assignments to write and a book to read (which I also got a copy for JT as well). And I have a sense of purpose as well. For once I know what I want and I have someone to help me get the tools so I can achieve it for myself.

As I walked out after the session, I felt proud of myself and my new pal, Dr Friend. Until I looked at the bench and the 2 heifers plopped on it. Then I just felt extremely sad for my poor, overworked bench friend. I may be crazy, but that thing is just down right abused.

Guess Who's Back? Back Again?

2010-01-25T20:32:00.004-06:00

Remember that one time, back in '09 when I said I was going to blog more often? And I did for awhile, but then totally fell off the face of the earth into a giant pit of sickness and crazies?

Hahaha, yeah, that was great. It was a total blast and a half. We should so do that again.

But this time, I'm going to actually try to blog at least once a week, maybe even once a day. Even if its just a "I'm still alive" post, I want to try to post something.

Now to an update with your host, Tayizzle.

Same old shite.

Thanks Tayizzle. Now for the weather.

Seriously, some old thing pretty much. JT is still crazy, but mostly medicated. I'm not his mother and refuse to stay on top of his meds. I can only remind so much. He knows what happens when he doesn't take them, and if that is a risk he is willing to take, I'll go along for the ride. He is usually is very good about it, but he has the habit of not taking them for a couple days then drinking Nos or Monster. After a mild freak out, he usually starts his meds again.

My surgery is still on for March. My goal is that this time next year I'll be close to my goal weight and hopefully pregnant or trying. I've had some health issues this winter, but I'm going to a specialist to hopefully clear that up before the surgery.

It was also suggested that I see a psychologist before & after surgery. SHOCKER! I'm actually completely on board with this. I know that I need some help/coping tools and that I have the potential for an awesome breakdown after the surgery if I don't have the correct help lined up. So tomorrow will be my first meeting with my new Dr Friend. I'm extremely nervous. I know I shouldn't be, but I am. Aha! That can be my post tomorrow: The Adventures of Tayizzle & Dr Friend. She is so going to be my new BFF. Of course if we get into some deep stuff, I'll never be able to look her in the eye again and we'll slowly drift apart until we only occasionally message each other on Facebook, then just the random text on holidays . . . Yeah, probably a good thing I'm going.

Grin & Bear It

2009-10-04T11:57:00.002-05:00

JT-

I understand you have a sickness. Believe me, I know what you're going through. I know what it feels like to want to lay in bed all day, not because it would be awesome, but because you can't possibly summon the energy to do anything else. Sometimes its hard to just keep breathing. Then in the next moment, you feel like you're on top of the world. Energy curses through your blood and you know you can do anything and if for some reason you can't do it, well damnit, it wasn't meant to be done. That is the beauty/curse of mental disease.

But you can't use it as a crutch. Sometimes you have to do the very thing you absolutely know that you can't. Your body aches, you hate yourself, you hate your life, you don't see anyway out of the spiraling bleakness of depression except to blink yourself out of existence. That's when you grin and bear it. You have responsibilities to others that you can't deny. So you smile through the pain, laugh away the sobs, and skip on with aching muscles so you can take care of those who are counting on you.

One day, you may not be able to grin through it anymore, but know that as long as I'm able, I will smile for you. I will giggle along with you. I will travel every painful step at your side. I will do it because I love you. No matter what, never forget that I love you more than life itself, Love of mine. I will follow you into the dark, and back into the light where we belong.

I love you Jefe
I love you Rabbit
I love you Papa Bear
I love you, You love me
I love you more, Ok
Asshole.
oxo

2009-09-30T12:40:00.001-05:00

I hate today almost as much as I hate myself. There's negative pressure building and soon it will explode.

I May Have Fibbed A Bit

2009-09-24T19:54:00.002-05:00

I'm watching Little People, Big Pregnancy and the woman just gave birth. Watching the baby cry, I wanted that. I want to feel my baby crying on my tummy after working so hard to bring him or her into the world. I teared up a bit.

But you know, I think I'd be just as happy to hold my newborn after watching one of my awesome friends bring them into the world or when I bring a little one home after the adoption is final. I think having a little Monkee in my arms would just make me happy.

The Something

2009-09-24T00:44:00.003-05:00

I've been so upset with my health lately. I feel bad, but everything comes back normal. The only thing that as been slightly abnormal is an elevated WBC, low grade fevers, and just a general sense of malaise. Basically, one big suck fest. Then over the past few months, I noticed that my cycles were getting heavier & shorter. It got to the point that I was soaking through a diaper in less than a hour. Even bigger suck fest. So after consulting Dr Gyno, he ordered an ultrasound. Normal had left the building.

At the follow up with Dr G, he informed me that he was concerned. Apparently my baby baker is on the fritz. Instead of buns, it had grown "something". He thinks from the ultrasound that it may be either a fibroid or endometrial hyperplasia. He "suggested" a biopsy right then and there, so next thing I know I'm in the stirrups and he's having bonding time with my nethers. Now for any of you that have never had a biopsy of your inner nethers, just imagine a probe grating along your insides, then suddenly pinching and slicing for all its worth and yanking out a piece baby baker. All the while this is happening, your baby baker is getting steadily more and more pissed and is fighting back by cramping. It's quite a lovely experience. Not one that I want to repeat, but lovely all the same.

After promising the baby baker a mocha & chocolate chip cookies on the way home, I was able to pay attention to Dr G again. He told me not to worry, but to come back in 2 weeks to go over the results and plan the next plan of action.

TWO WEEKS?!?!?!? Seriously? What the hell am I supposed to do with myself? I'm trying to hope for the best (polyps) but I can't help but prepare myself for the worst: Cancer. Even precancerous cells is better than the "C Word" but both are still pretty life changing.

I'm a firm believer in gut feelings. When I was pregnant with Monkee, I had a feeling from the very beginning that something was wrong. I was so thankful to be pregnant, but I just had that feeling that Monkee was not meant for me yet. I could not get blighted ovum out of my head and when I started bleeding and they did the ultrasound showing that is exactly what had happened, my fear was confirmed. I had never wanted to be wrong so much in my life, but I just knew that I was right. And I feel the same way about this.

I have had the feeling for awhile that I will not be able to have children. Not necessarily raise a child, but that I will not be able to conceive or carry my own child. Its a feeling that I've grown comfortable with. I'd love to be wrong, but again, I just know that I'm right about this. I'm looking forward to adoption or maybe even surrogacy (which I am so thankful and blessed that I have already had 2 friends volunteer to be my surrogates). So I'm okay with that option. It's the other options that scare me.

Even if the biopsy reveals that the something is a fibroid or precancerous cells that can be treated with medication, can I put myself through that? And if this treatment works, what if it comes back as something worse? If it's endometrial hyperplasia, it puts me at a greater risk of developing uterine cancer. Would it be better for me to have a hysterectomy now to prevent a what if that may or may not happen in the the future? If I had the baby baker removed now, that would put a definite end to the heavy periods & cramps that put me out of commission every month. I wouldn't have the back pain that I have now that comes with the cramps and it would possibly help with the rear plumbing issues I've been having as well. My ovaries appear fine, so I would be able to keep those and avoid early menopause, as well as harvest my eggs for future use.

But all of these are what ifs for something I don't even know is Something. It could be that my Something is actually Nothing. That is what I'm hoping. JT is extremely worried. His mother is a uterine cancer survivor, but he is afraid of losing me. It's that exact reason that I haven't told anyone else but my sister. I'm waiting to find out the results of the something before I worry anyone else, especially my parents. They both freaked out when I was hospitalized. I can't imagine what this would do to Daddio, let alone my mother.

So for now, I'm keeping this to myself and you, my invisible reader. I know you can keep a secret.

Down with the Sickness

2009-09-22T00:24:00.002-05:00

Oh to be well again . . . One of these days I will be. Just when I think that I'm feeling better, I get knocked on my ass again. I was feeling fine(ish) yesterday and decided go grocery shopping. About half way through, I knew I was going to pass out. I was using the shopping cart as a walker and mumbling to myself "push, push, push" like the cart was a sleigh dog or something. I had to sit in the car for awhile to get my barings before I could even drive home. Once I made it home, it was all I could do to make it upstairs and crawl in bed. I'm tired of feeling helpless.

And the fevers. Technically, they're low grade fevers (99.4-100.2), but they're pretty much constant. I've started coughing again and my friendly green chunks are back. I'd be willing to bet that my WBC is slightly elevated as well which would indicate infection, but I've just finished my antibiotics, Levaquin 750mg. That should have killed anything in my system. Yet the sickness continues. I go back to the dr on Wednesday, hopefully to get cleared to go back to work. I wonder if I'm ready though. I need to be ready. JT & I are broke. At the moment, we have less than $100 to live on until he gets paid in 2 weeks. Because I've been off work, but still in my 90 days, I don't have enough PTO built up, so basically I'm not getting a paycheck in 2 weeks. Stress is elevated to say the least. Thankfully everything is caught up, except rent & electricity. I have to call TXU tomorrow to beg for more time. Rent . . . I don't know. We're trying to sell JT's car. God willing that will happen soon. That will help us get caught up with rent majorly.

I just don't know what to do sometimes. I try not to stress, but with anxiety & depression, I can't help myself. I worry about it until I can't anymore and then I say screw it. I just want to get in the car and drive away from everything. That's on a good day. On the bad days, I think about my "Exit Plan". Yes, I have one. I know exactly how I would/will kill myself and I've come close to acting on it. The only thing that stops me most days is the pain that I know that it would cause JT & my family. Sometimes that's not even enough. I can't come up with a good reason not to. I know that life would be easier for everyone if they didn't have me to worry about. They would be sad for awhile, but eventually they could move on. That thought comforts me know. I've moved on to worrying about the afterlife. My fear of that is my stop button now. I believe in God and know that he does not put more on me that I can't bear, but sometimes everything hurts so much. I feel everything and everyone and I don't know how to fix it all. If I kill myself, I know that is a sin. God is a forgiving God, but I don't believe His mercy extends to suicide.

That's why I continue to pray for strength, courage, & wisdom. The strength take on each day, the courage to withstand it, and the wisdom to know how to handle it. Again, this wasn't suppose to be a downer post. I'm actually in a mellow mood right now, almost peaceful. I've come to the conclusion that I do need help. I just don't know what will occur first, or what I want to occur first. I want to be healthy for JT since he is working so hard to be mentally healthy for me. Everything is so messed up in my head though. Is it too messed up to fix?

There's No Place Like Home

2009-09-18T01:47:00.002-05:00

I am so happy to be home!!!! As much as I miss the solitude of the hospital, it feels good to back in the semi-real world. Of course that means life has dumped a crap ton of stress right back in my lap, but I've come to the point that I just don't give a damn. I'll figure it out as I go along, but damnit, I'm not going to stress too much about it. Which probably means that I'm about to start a spiral session. Great fun for me. I've already seen the signs of it about to start. This one should be fun.

JT is actually doing a lot better than I thought. I can tell that he is trying to be helpful without being smothering. It's cute. The things that I wish he would help me on, he takes a back seat. The things that I'm perfectly alright doing, he wants to jump in and do it all. One of these days he'll get it, hopefully. He's doing a lot better mentally too. He can't see it sometimes, but he is making progress. I can see the gears turning in his head when he thinking before he speaks. Yes, I said he's been thinking before he speaks. Baby steps, people. I'll take whatever I can get.

Tomorrow is my first big test outside the house. I have to drive myself to the cardiologist and I've been dying for either Olive Garden or Red Lobster so I'm hoping JT will meet me there. I haven't driven a car in since the Saturday before I went into the hospital so it should be interesting. AND I haven't had much exercise besides the stairs in our house and I avoid those like the plague. I wanted to get some grocery shopping in tomorrow as well, but we'll see how it goes. I want to push myself, but at the same time I know my asthma hinges on getting my lungs healthy and keeping my anxiety down. I've been weaning myself off my nebulizer and just using my inhaler. So far so good. I'm trending in the right direction as JT would say.

And there you have it. A somewhat happy post. Of course I'm extremely tired, but I don't think that influenced it too much. Now it's off to bed and maybe even some sleep so I'll be well rested for my outside adventure tomorrow.

I WANT FREEDOM!!!!!

2009-09-12T23:57:00.004-05:00

Well, not really. At least there's not any rush on it.

I've been trapped/admitted to the hospital since Labor Day. Almost a week now and I honestly kind of like it. It's very quiet and for the most part restful. The lack of effort on my lungs part is somewhat annoying, especially when I'm required to actually leave my bed, but its getting better. My doctor is hopeful that I will be released on Monday (at least that is the game plan) so I will finally get to see my girls! I think I'm the most excited about that, but still I have a little nagging part of me that doesn't want to leave.

Its sad, but true. I like being in the hospital. I finally have an excuse to worry just about me and for the first few days, I didn't even have to do that. I had nurses to do that for me. Sure this sitting in bed thing is getting old, but I've started working on building up some strength again by walking around the halls and doing more for myself, like sitting up in a chair for as long as I can (which is a helluva lot more draining than one would think). The best part of this whole process is not worrying about JT. It finally clicked with me. He is a big boy, no, a grown man. Even though he is mentally unhealthy right now, he can still handle things and he has to handle things right now because physically I can't. It's not healthy for me and I can't afford to be like that anymore.

When JT was sick and hospitalized, I dropped everything to be by his side every chance that I got. I balanced our household, his mother, my parents and everything else and still managed to spend time with him because I wanted him to know he was not alone and that I loved him. My first full day here, he skipped group, made excuses about doing something at the house and for his mother, spent about an hour with me, then went back home to do more "errands". And that's when it hit me. He really does think that he is doing so much and that everyone should feel sorry for him since he is "taking care of SO much" right now. Don't get me wrong, I know he is doing alot, especially taking care of the girls and his mother plus balancing his bipolar. I guess it just bugs me that he wants to make sure that everyone knows and that he gets credit for it. Where is my credit? Even during my sickness, I've continued with my grin and bear it so that way I can make it as easy as possible for everyone, especially him. Where is my credit for that?

I never meant for this post to get serious, but that's where it went. And I know JT reads this. He knows (or at least he should) that I love him immensely. I am so grateful for everything he has done for me, but he knows that sometimes it annoying that in order to get the things he has done for me, I've had to poke, prod, push, & shove him into action. I guess that is a fault of mine. Maybe I should just be happy for the things that he does and not look a gift horse in the mouth, even though sometimes I want to put the damn nag down.

Anyhow, I'm very grateful to have been so well taken care of this week, not only by JT but by the awesome staff here at the hospital. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that Monday will be the day of my release, but I'm keeping a realistic view as well. I don't want to rush out of here, and I especially don't want to rush back to work either. It's taken A LOT of hard work to get to feeling even this good and I don't want to jeopardize anything. I have a few tests that I need to do, especially a sleep study. Right now I'm failing sleep with a passion that I didn't know I possessed, which, oddly enough, is making me act somewhat possessed. Imagine that.

Lonely! Oh So Lonely!!!!

2009-09-09T00:35:00.002-05:00

Stuck in a hospital bed scratching myself raw from nerves and barely able to catch my breath when I leave my bed.

Payback is a bitch I guess.

STB

2009-09-05T22:31:00.004-05:00

***Edited just for the name, which I don't really care if the whole world knows, but I do worry about my little sister who still has to live with the bullshit***

Fucking hell, I just realized I'm pissed. I gave up every fucking thing because you said that you were my best friend, my fucking sister. Growing up, my entire life revolved around you. I got in trouble because of YOU. I got you out of trouble because I wanted to be liked by YOU! You swore that you did. You swore that we would never drift apart. You are a fucking liar. My number has NEVER changed. NEVER. Yet you ask why I don't call you? Because you changed your Goddamn number. Was I suppose to guess the fucking thing? I gave you my number again and yet you never had the fucking balls to call. We share a sister yet I don't hear anything about you from her. It's like she's not allowed to talk about you. I extend an invite to my birthday party (which you never fucking did anything for and I always did something for yours even if it was just singing you happy birthday on your stinking voicemail)and you show up with your "boyfriend". You turn your nose up at my friends like they were beneath you. Worst of all, you did the same fucking thing to me. Well fuck you. Fuck you and all the slutty shit you did that I covered. I tried to build you up when you allowed boy after boy use you as a fucking sex toy, but I was never good enough for you. You had all your other friends to confide in. All those other friend turned their backs on you and I was always there to pick up the pieces. When you didn't have shit, I gave you everything I had. If I had money, you had money. If I got something, I made sure you had the same damn thing.

I hope that you're proving yourself to everyone. I hope that your mother is proud of you. I hope that you are happy in the fake shit you surround yourself because that is all that you ever gave me. All I ever wanted from you was a friend. A fucking friend. I truly believed that you were mine. I thought you cared for me. I thought that you would always be there for me. As much as you have hurt me since high school, I still hoped that when you moved back last year that maybe we could reconnect. I didn't even get a phone call. You have my number & my address, yet still nothing. Absolutely nothing. You may not be the cause of my craziness, but you are certainly a means. I can't trust anyone because of how you treated me. I'm afraid to give my heart to anyone because you ruined it. Even my own fucking husband. I still wait for the other shoe to drop and the day to come when I realize that he no longer wants me because he's gotten everything he could from me. So thank you for that. Thanks a fucking lot.

I'm Not Feeling it Today

2009-08-30T20:33:00.003-05:00

That basically sums it up. I'm trying to be supportive of Jefe as he regains his grasp on sanity or a form of it, but it gets really hard. When I'm sick or feeling shitty, I power through the best I can and catch a lazy moment when I can. With the crazies and sickies attacking him right now, it's like I'm suppose to drop everything and wait on him sometimes.

Like today, I drove all day. Wait, let me back up. This week I was sick. Womanly sick. Depends wearing period sick. I was drained, literally. I found out Wednesday that we were booked to work this Saturday. So now I'm feeling really tired at just the thought of spending all day in the trailer working a PeeWee football tourney. So Saturday comes and as I'm leaving out the door, JT is talking to his mom about going to pick up her groceries and doing some honey do's. In the middle of a rush at work, I get a txt from JT saying he is getting sick. Okay, no prob. Finally, the games are over at 9pm and I'm heading home. I call JT and tells me he was too sick to take care of his mom's errands and that I would probably have to do it tomorrow (Sunday). Now, I'm pissed. I was sick all week, finished working my normal week, then worked an extra day Saturday and now I have to do his one true job of the week on top of all of it? And stop to get him food (after he had already ordered pizza hut)? I was beyond furious. Music wasn't soothing me either. I finally put in on the classical music station and a beautiful violin concerto was able to lull me to a semblance of calm. By the time I made it home, they had started playing old Broadway show tunes, which I love. So as I'm sitting in the parking lot, enjoying some time to myself and listening to Guys and Dolls, I notice JT poking his head out the door watching me. Off goes the engine and I head upstairs to bring in the food. When I open the door, he is sprawled on the floor in his underwear with a "pathetic" look on his face. I couldn't stop myself from rolling my eyes. After scarfing down dinner, I go upstairs and eventually fall asleep.

Only to be awaken by my phone at 9am. Its CareNow saying they are ready for JT and we can head that way. I poke JT and "calmly" tell him to wake up. 15 minutes later he finally gets up to take a shower just to realize that he is too sick to go to CareNow right then. He then tells me to call them back and cancel. Thats right, he told me. Thats a common theme. Rarely do I get asked for something. I'm told what to do and when I get upset, then I get pissy hurt JT who doesn't understand what he did for the next hour or so.

I make the call and go back to sleep to be awaken again 2 hours later by my mother. As I'm talking to her, I start to realize I'm not feeling so hot. Well, actually I'm feeling quite hot. And achey. And my lungs feel like fiber glass. After getting off the phone with my mom, I throw on clothes and head downstairs, fully expecting JT to be dressed and ready to go. Its been 2 friggin hours. Nope. Underwear & socks, sprawled on the couch JT greets me. Tells me I don't look so good and to web check in the both of us.

Thus begins my Sunday drive. 2 hours in CareNow to get a diagnosis of bronchitis and otitis for me and an upper respitory infection and otitis for JT. Of course the Doc mentioned something about pneumonia so JT thinks he has a borderline case. Which means that he is "sicker than me". Translation: Tay needs to do everything for me cause she's feeling better than me. By the time we had made it to CVS, I had had enough. After mentioning for the 5th time about him needing me to go with him to the store, I was at the point of telling him exactly where he could. Luckily for him (and me) he finally realized we were both too sick to visit any store. He compromised with his mom to bring her lunch and take her bills to the post office.

More driving for me and more sleeping for JT. Oh, have I not mentioned that JT has been sleeping every time we head somewhere in the car? I'm talking to myself at this point to stay awake. I forgot I was driving several times and had many realizations that I was in a moving vehicle surrounded by traffic. When we finally make it to his mom's house, he tells me to "hop my delirious ass out the car and go get the bills". Seriously? I had a Did That Really Just Come Out His Mouth moment. I refused in so many words. So out came pissy pouty JT because he had to walk all the way into the house and right back out. It took less than 2 minutes, but I'm the bad wife.

I guess what this whole rant is about is that I'm just tired. I'm tired of being sick but not being able to show that I'm sick because it might hurt someone's feelings. I'm tired of taking care of everyone else but me. I couldn't even grieve the loss of my Amazing Monkee because I had to make sure everyone else, including JT, was ok first. When I had my mental breakdown last year, there was no one there to tell me to get help. I've bottled all of this up inside for so long I don't know how to express it anymore. I'm just a character in everyone else's life. When I do decide that I've had enough and I'm just going to let my hair down, I get judged for it by people I've had to take care of when they've done the exact same fuckin thing. It's not fair. Life isn't just unfair, its a bitch. Every single happy moment that I have is always tainted by someone or more often than not me because I'm worried about what others are thinking or what I can do to make them happy.

I want to be selfish. I want to only care about me for once. I don't want to have to take care of anyone or watch what I say or do. I thought that by having gastric bypass surgery I would finally be able to have something for me, something that would make me happy. But I don't even have that anymore. Now I'm worried that my deciding to have surgery is part of the reason that JT has cracked. I don't want to worry about my life anymore. I just want to live it for me and let everyone else worry about themselves.

And the Duck Says "Moooo"

2009-08-17T20:43:00.004-05:00

That basically sums up how everything feels right now. I know how the world should look and sound, but its all showing up differently in my head. I have my strong smile face on, but beneath the cracks are beginning to show. I can only be so strong for so many for so long. I feel hunched over by the weight of it all, but honestly who can help me carry this load but myself?

I know if I keep going like this I'll hit that wall where I throw everything down and just say "screw it". That is my cycle. If I can't fix it, I destroy it and when I get to that point I end up hurting others as well as myself. I keep wondering if my craziness is affecting Jefe's crazy. Did the stress of living with me finally make him crack? The few who are close to me will think that I'm crazy for even thinking that, but that is how long I have lived with the "smileys". If you keep a smile going for long enough, people stop looking beneath it. They don't notice the strain etched around your mouth and eyes from forcing it for so long.

I tired of being negative about me. I have so much good stuff going on now. My surgery is looming on the horizon. I really like my job and besides Mother retiring from her brief "roofing" career, my family is doing really well. I can't see it though. I worry how long before it all comes crashing down. I keep to myself to avoid being the tipping point that brings it all down. I've already driven Jefe up a wall. We'll soon be running out of space.

So for now, I clutch the daisy in my hand, smiling to cover the sting of its hidden thorns.

Ugh . . .

2009-07-26T01:19:00.004-05:00

Not much going on. The house is an absolute mess. I couldn't find drawers if my life depended on it. Sadly, I'm perfectly okay with that. Gives things a chance to air out a bit. Quite refreshing actually.

I went to a worship thing at church this week. It really helped with where my head has been lately, but at the same time, its been messing with my head as well. One of the preachers was talking about how God wants to answer all of your prayers, you just have to be willing to ask and be accepting of his answer. He then gave a scripture from 2 Kings, chapter 4 about God providing an otherwise barren woman with a son within a year of telling her she would conceive. I can't help but ask myself, I've been praying for a son, daughter, something for so long now and I don't have much to show for it. I don't want this to come across wrong. I'm extremely thankful for the life that I have, but I still have an empty place in my heart for the Monkee that I lost. I've tried filling that place with just an increased faith in God, but as that increases, so does the ache for Monkee. Some days are easy. I can see kids or pregnant women and I'm happy for the joy in their lives. Then I have days like the past week and I'm so jealous. I physically hurt with the longing to feel the soft skin of a chubby lil Jefe or me. I go to sleep at night clinging to one of the many stuffed monkeys that share our bed, pretending to smell the sweet scent of baby.

And then I think about where I am in life right now, between health issues and everything else and I know that we are better off without lil Monkee in our midst. It doesn't mean that I don't want it any less, but I can deal with it a little easier. Maybe that goes back to the asking God for our heart's desires and being okay with his answers. I honestly don't know.

Bah Humbug

2009-07-16T21:54:00.001-05:00

Drs Suck. That is all.

I Want Gastric Bypass Because . . .

2009-06-26T22:43:00.000-05:00

To steal a line from the movie “Serenity” ‘To Hell with this. I’m gonna live!’

By having this surgery, I hope to finally be 26. I want to go out with my friends and not be the fat one with a cute face. I also want to go to a regular store (not the local or online Lulu’s Muumuus Barn) and find a cute, maybe even sexy outfit and not feel like an old woman. I want to walk into a room and for people to take notice of my presence, not the way I gasp from waddling in from the parking lot. I hope that this surgery will reveal the sweet girl that everyone sees in me, but that I can’t see in the mirror. For the first time in my nieces and nephews lives, I want to run with them, chase after them, and wrestle on the floor without worrying about what is jiggling, how bad I’m going to hurt, or will I be able to get off the floor without embarrassing myself. Speaking of embarrassing, I want to enjoy a ride at Six Flags again without worrying if I’ll even fit in the “plus size” seats.

And by God, I want to not only be healthy, I want to feel healthy. I want to wake up in the morning and the only pill I have to take is a vitamin. I don’t want to worry about what my pulse is doing and whether my asthma is going to flare up. I want to feel the accomplishment of going for a jog with my dogs and for once tiring them out. I don’t want anyone to have to ask how I’m feeling. I want them to be able to see it written all over my face that I feel not just great, but AWESOME!!!

But most of all, I want to clear my conscience. I’ve had the dream of having children since before I can remember. I’ve cared for children all of my life. I just knew that I would be done having my kids by the time I reached 30. I have yet to realize my dream and there is no explanation for it, except possibly my weight. The one thing that I might have had some control over is preventing me from achieving my dream.

It’s time for a change. It’s time for me to start living my life and to stop letting my fat live for me.

Oh Silly Me

2009-06-23T22:36:00.000-05:00

I didn't forget about you. I promise. I have an awesome post I've hidden up my sleeve. Well actually my backpack. And its downstairs. And I'm already in bed. . .

Right. So tomorrow, when I'm downstairs I'll try to remember it. Or better yet, if I ever make it back to work, I'll email it to myself and post it. It's about my decision to have gastric bypass surgery. It's actually the essay they assigned me to write. Okay, actually it was just suppose to be a short paragraph, but once I got started on all the reasons I wanted the surgery, I couldn't stop. But it's a good one. I promise.

2009-05-12T21:43:00.001-05:00

I would cut the normal out, but would there be anything left of me?

2009-05-09T21:53:00.001-05:00

Dear Paxil,
You can start working anytime now. My husban thanks you in advance.
Love,
Tayizzle

2009-04-23T17:02:00.001-05:00

Why is it so hard to get better? I think I'd rather be sick. Or just maybe its all in my head & not my heart?

2009-04-20T16:20:00.001-05:00

So sick of drs. Sick of meds too. Apparently my heart issues are in my head because I'm a fat ass. I could have diagnosed that.

2009-03-04T11:22:00.001-06:00

Why is it that when men get sick they turn into babies, but women turn into Superwoman? *shrug* If he asks for juice one more damn time . . .

Seriously?

2009-02-14T22:34:00.002-06:00

I have lesbian dogs. Jube is in heat & Boo is taking care of it. Should I be proud that Jube is so secure to come out so early? Should I buy them rainbow collars or would that be tacky? It's sorta sad. My mom just bought Jube a boyfriend, well I guess he's all the girls boyfriend (polygamy is okay when you have four legs apparently). Maybe (hopefully) she's just experimenting. She is sorta in her teen years.

2009-02-12T20:34:00.001-06:00

Dear Job Fairy, Please, please, please let me have done well during my interview. I really liked that place and she seemed to like me. Pretty please?

A Non Nerd Gal's Take on Star Wars

2009-02-12T12:08:00.005-06:00

Because BD is a gimungous Star Wars nerd and I've never watched any of the original Star Wars trilogy through, I believe this video best represents my feelings on the movie. Enjoy.

http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/e34ed3fcba/star-wars-retold-by-someone-thats-never-seen-it-from-joenick

2009-02-12T10:00:00.001-06:00

Oh and i'm a bum & haven't walked in weeks. But we do have our tv again so now I can mix in the wii workout.

2009-02-12T09:55:00.001-06:00

Maybe this will motivate me to blog more. So much to talk about. New Fro, new job (maybe), new puppies... Where to begin?

Just Keep Walking

2009-01-12T20:13:00.003-06:00

That is my mantra lately. After being pestered by my sister for the past few weeks about being healthy in the new year, I finally break down and do it. I load up Boo & Jube and head to the new park. I turn up my zune, wrap the leash around my hand and start the first step to a new me. I promptly trip over Jube, barely avoiding a face plant as she lets loose an ear splitting scream. Thanks Jube for bringing the entire park to a screeching halt as everyone turns to see who is killing a poor defenseless puppy. No, really, thanks.

I untangle myself and try to speed waddle as fast as I can to the nearest trail. It isn't until I've already gone too far down the trail to turn back without looking like an idiot that I realize that the one that I saw marked on the ground wasn't the start to a 1/2 mile. Hell no, its the start to a full blown mile. Me, who hasn't walked further than the friggin mailbox in months is now trotting my happy tail down the mile to Hell. Too late now. I continue to drag Jube (who has suddenly forgotten how to walk and has locked her legs out) and pray that I can make it back to my car.

So I huff & puff down the path, my Boo piggy finally encouraging Jube to walk like a semi normal dog. I can see the 1/2 mile marker in the distance and I can't believe I'm actually there in almost 15 minutes. It's then that the burning starts. My ankles feel like they've been set on fire and are trying to turn in on themselves. Every step is torture but I keep telling myself, "Just keep walking". I finally reach the actual 1/2 mile marker and realize the trail has stopped. There is no continuing path across the street. Nothing. As I stop to catch my breath, I look down at my girls and they look back up at me, then turn around and start back down the path, tugging at their leashes. I think it was their version of encouragement or they may have been dragging me to a more private spot to collaspe. Either way, I just keep walking.

I finally make it back to civilization. My legs are on fire & I'm sweating in places I haven't sweated in a long time. But I did it and I'm proud of myself. Part of me is a little underwhelmed. I mean, it's only a mile, but that is the biggest step I've taken to getting my weight under control in several years. I usually lose weight pretty easily if I put my mind to it, but I haven't put my mind to anything lately except to comfort food. So pride is winning out. I went back the next day and only did a half mile, but at least I was out there. I've cut back on my food intake, as well as making better decisions on what I'm putting in my body. My goal is to give up all animal products by the end of year. So far I've had no success whatsoever, but I'm going to start taking baby steps. I haven't weighed myself, but I don't plan to do that except at the doctor's office. I don't have a certain goal I want to reach, just a general feeling of what I want to look/feel like. If I can get back down to where I was when I met BD in 2002, then I will be ecstastic. If I can even get close, that will be great as well. And if I can get to a point where I get pregnant again, well, I don't know how I can beat that.

Until then, I've got to keep walking.

Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I Grow Older Tomorrow!

2008-12-22T12:05:00.002-06:00

26 is only a day away . . . And I'm surprised. I don't feel 26. I feel old. No, seriously, like Nana old. Maybe it's the people I hang around. I can't help that some of my closest friends are 60+. You get really close to people when you're sitting around the cardiologist waiting room for an hour. Yeah, I said cardiologist. Luckily, it looks like we got everything under control now, but for awhile my pulse was averaging nearly 200 bpm plus skipping beats. It was fun times. Now it's down to 120 bpm, which is still high, but both me & my drs can live with that for now.

Back to being old. I do, I feel old. Maybe not Nana old yet, but at least mid 30s. All the miles I've put on my body, I should at least be 35. Christmas is coming and I'm not the least bit excited. I didn't even put up the Christmas tree this year. I just didn't feel like it. I'm too busy trying to put up & deal with bills and finding a job... I did put up my door wreath though. I even made it this year. I guess that counts, but even that made me feel old. Sitting with my hot glue gun on a Friday night, all the Christmas ornaments set just right around my wreath while I try unsuccessfully not to burn myself with friggin hot glue. Isn't that what all 25ish gals do? Hell, I was excited that a I got a quilt at my OB (Old Broad) Birthday Party. Me & the OBs sitting around, drinking coffee, oooing & awwing over a quilt & the cook books I got. Seriously?

I guess it doesn't really matter. I can never remember how old I am anyhow. Is Old Timers contagious?

Thank You Bipolar Bear!

2008-12-21T21:51:00.003-06:00

Not to be confused with Bi Polar Bear.

Since discovering my long lost blog of yesteryear & an old diary my mother found and swore she didn't read, I've decided to shake things up. I've combined both blogs onto this profile, but shall divide the topic of each blog. Drawers will be my normal everyday blog. Be it happy, sad, crazy or lazy, it'll be here. Ex-Lax shall be reborn into my baby jealously, er making, blog. I know not everyone wants to hear me vent about our lack of a uterus parasite and the loss of Monkee, but for those of you who do, there it will be. Not promising what exactly will be posted there, but I can almost guarantee on Missing Monkey days, there will be some venting. So there's that. Amen & pass the collection plate.

Oh Memories, how I adore thee

2008-12-21T21:37:00.003-06:00

You know what's funny? No seriously my imaginary friend, do you know what funny is? No? Well, try stumbling across an old blog that you set up and forgot about and reading what your mindset of a mere year ago. WOW^2. How simple things were back in the day when your big worry was starting your first job in years outside the home and making a black friend. Its a shame I lost that black friend, but I've since made new ones in her place, so it's all good (look, a blackism). So for your viewing pleasure, I present to you a snippet of "The Ex-Lax of Constipated Thought":

My First Day of Work 9/10/07

A Time Line

12am~ Finally laying it down in bed, unable to fall asleep.

4am~ After tossing and turning all night, stressing, I am undeniably up. I continue to stare at the ceiling from my bed, the betrayer.

4:50am~ Alarm goes off. I lay in bed another ten minutes then drag myself to the shower.

6:00am~ After showering, staring blankly at the tv, dressing, watching an episode of Buffy & realizing I have no appetite nor anything to eat if I did, I decide to leave early and treat myself at Sonic.

6:10am~ Car starts screeching at me and after making a popping nose and starting a deathly shudder, I limp her up to the Chevron on Confederate Parkway. I proceed to get out of the car and attempt to open the hood after calling Jeff to come pick me up.

6:15am~ I give up on the stupid hood and try not to cry. Attempt to start car again hoping playing with the hood might have excited her a bit; immediately turn it off as she pings and screams at me in pain. Try harder not to cry.

6:30am~ After promising my Indian friend the clerk, who I will call Raj Ma Taj, that I will indeed be back for my car later, Jeff picks me up to take me to work. I cry the whole ride there while trying not to choke on the chocolate mini donut that I stuffed in my mouth to muffle the crying. I try not to choke harder.

6:45am~ Have a near panic attack as Jeff pulls into the parking lot, try to figure out how to convince him that I dont need an outside job. I can sell flies & stray cats out of our apartment or became that creepy neighborhood lady who sells frozen kool-aid and cheap candy from her porch & bitches at you the whole time for being on her porch. For some reason it does not work.

6:48am~ Jeff finally "pep talks" me enough for me to get enough confidence to open the door and get out. He yells good luck as he peels out the parking lot, cackling "SUCKER!!!!!" the whole time (okay maybe he really said "I love you baby and you'll do fine"; its really hard to hear through crazy). I get buzzed in by the guard who then tells me to go wait in the breakroom with all the other victims, er newbs.

7:00am~ Try not to start crying because I dont know anyone and the one guy who looked like my sister in laws brother and my one hope at salvation in this barren friendless hell known as outside employment is not the kind soul I know. I tried to pretend he was anyway and that he just wasnt talking to me because he hit his head that morning and has no memory, but eventually it would come back and we would be best friends. He moved to another table.

**** This pattern continues for the rest of the day. I think tomorrow his memory will return for sure****

12pm~ I've made a black friend & a crazy white lady who likes Schnauzers. We take our breaks together and my black friend has promised to sit with me at lunch.

12:15pm~ I try not to cry because my black friend did not save me a seat while I was waiting on the mexican quesadilla maker to make my forgotten food treat. I go sit by myself and pretend to use my phone.

12:20pm~ Try harder not to cry when I realize she did indeed save me a seat, but I was too much of a schmuck to see it. Now I really do call my mom to play it off. Then I call my sister. Still time left during lunch. Wander the halls until only a few minutes are left then go casually sit in the seat she saved. We pretended like it never happened and walk back to class together. We sit next to each in class. Everything is beautiful again.

4pm~ My black friendship is really taking off. At the end of class, we've pledged to be blood sisters and we're going to make each other god parents of our kids. We'll be vacationing together in Cabo this summer after we have that wild girls weekend in Vegas we are planning. At least that is what I heard. She may have only said "See you tomorrow, girl!". I think I'll knit her a blanket tonight, rather a blanket for my future godchildren.

*** I feel I should add here that I'm very happy to have made a black friend. Being black myself, but never considered "black" enough for my black friends in school, this is a very big deal for me. I woke up from a dream over the weekend highly upset because the black people in my dream were mean to me and made fun of me. This has been my biggest fear with starting this job because I know a lot of black people work there and I wanted to make friends with them. I'm not being racist or anything else. I like my new schnauzer crazy white friend along with the tattooed white friend I met today.****

Happy Damnit

2008-11-30T20:39:00.003-06:00

Quick note:

Before deciding to suddenly stop taking your "Think before you stab in the face" pills, make sure that it is a really sound decision. If you were already convinced that your "TBYSITF" pills weren't working like they should, quitting cold turkey may not be best idea. Because now instead of taking "TBYSITF" pills, you'll be begging your doctor and frothing at the mouth while laughing & crying for the "Please Don't let me kill, harm, maim, or seriously injure (though mildly injury would be okay) with a dull spoon today" pill.

Just a publice service announcement.

Fear of the Closet

2008-10-23T11:29:00.003-05:00

I'm designing an awesome Halloween costume. I absolutely can't wait for Halloween so I can wear it. I'm having problems with the top though. I need a boobirrific black top & I think I might have one in my closet, but I'm terrified to go in there. Its silly really, but I just can't bring myself to open the door & go inside. There's clothes in there that I haven't worn in almost a year just for this reason. The memory of Monkee is too strong there.

When I returned from the Dr's office after finding out that Monkee was gone and I was still numb, I quickly packed everything I had bought for him ( I still like to think that Monkee was my curly dark haired boy), returned it to my baby hope bin and stuck it in front of my closet. I knew I still had a few online purchases coming in, so once the arrived, I buried the bin in the very back of my closet and tried to forget about it. Trying worked as long as I didn't actually go in the closet. Every time I tried to enter, I would be flooded by his memory and what could/should have been. Eventually, I just gave up trying to go in there. The clothes hang inside, collecting dust. The shoes go unused and Monkee lingers there in the far dark corner.

But now, I need a shirt. A shirt that I am pretty sure is there, dusty, but there hanging. I'm past my due date, but I still don't know if I have the courage to face that dark corner, until yesterday.

I visited a friend yesterday who is a bit down on her luck. Frankly, if the world ever stops shitting on her, it'll probably take up sharting in her face. She told me she had something for me and out of one of the many shelves in her trailer (travel, not mobile home; again the world & shit), she pulls out a plastic figurine of a monkey. Not a realistic monkey, but one that looks like my monkee. She said she was out walking on her daughter's babies' daddy's grandmother's property (yeah, long story) where she lives. Mind you, its ten acres out in the asscrack of the middle of nowhere. So anyway, she's walking out in their field when she happens to look down and there in the grass & dirt it was. No other toys were around. None of her grandkids had been playing anywhere nearby. It was just a small monkee, out in a field all by itself. She said she picked it up and immediately knew it was mine. She just knew that she had to bring that monkee home and take care of it until the next time I came by.

So now my new monkee rides in my pocket or in my wallet. Usually my pocket so I can reach in to touch it throughout the day. I don't know why that little wayward monkee is a comfort, but it is. It makes me think that maybe I can face my closet today and not be so afraid of the memories & comfort I got from my Amazing Monkee.

Just for today, maybe

2008-10-13T10:46:00.003-05:00

"I Don't Feel Like Loving You Today" Gretchen Wilson

I don't feel like loving you today
So don't you even try to change my mind
The best thing you can do right now is just go away
Cause I don't feel like loving you today

I don't want to talk about last night
I'm angry and haven't had much sleep
And I'm so tired and bloodshot, there ain't no telling what I'd say
Cause I don't feel like loving you today...

[Chorus:]
But you know I will anyway
Even though we make it hard sometimes
I'll wind up forgiving you
And probably loving you for the rest of my life...
But I don't feel like loving you today

And I've got sixteen hours left to go
I might tell you that I'm leavin' even though you know I'll stay
Cause I don't feel like loving you today...

[Chorus]

But I don't feel like loving you today
I just don't feel like loving you today.

I'm hoping that this feeling only lasts today. It just gets harder & harder. How can I love someone who is set on eating themselves to death? Someone who cares more for themselve and their next moment of gratification, than a single moment with me? I didn't sign up to be a widow by the time I'm 30. I don't want to be an excuse or a convienent inconvienence. I want to be loved as deeply as I love. I want to be wanted. I want someone who will not only hold me when I need their warmth & comfort, but someone who can be just as happy holding my hand. Is that too much to want?

All Wrapped Up

2008-10-02T20:00:00.003-05:00

I decided against posting when September 16th came around. I did okay, but I did miss what might have been. I thought about Monkee alot that week, but I didn't have the words to put down exactly how I was feeling. I chose to keep to myself that week. I don't think that BD & I even talked about it. We just went our own ways and dealt with it separately (which has been happening alot lately, but that is a whole other story). I had made my peace with it. Somehow it made pieces of me.

Driving home from "Driving Ms Lullu" (not nearly as bad as it could be), she started talking about her friend, Ruth, who died a few months back. Ruth loved me dearly. I have no idea why. I had only met her once, but every time she saw Lullu, she made sure to ask about me, even though she never asked about BD. Ruth was an awesome knitter. She wanted to teach me to knit, but I just never got around to it. Okay, I never wanted to. I just couldn't see myself in her living room surrounded by old women, clinking metal pokey things together unless it was to jab them in my eye.

When Lullu told Ruth that I was pregnant, she immediately went to work on a blanket for the Monkee. She insisted that no child of mine would be without one of her blankets. Not even half way through the blanket, I lost Monkee. She was just as devastated as if it was her own grandchild. I didn't think anymore about it or anything else related to Monkee. I packed everything away almost immediately, only waiting for things that I had ordered online to come in so I wouldn't have to drag everything out again. Flash forward to today, Lullu lets me in on a secret. Before Ruth got sick this last time, she told Lullu that she couldn't rest until she had finished that blanket. Well, she did finish it. The only problem is, we don't know where it is.

As much as I would love to have that blanket, just the thought of it touches me. Every time I think of it, I tear up. Lullu is going to ask Ruth's daughter if she knows where that blanket might be, and if I can have it. I hope the answer is yes on both accounts so one day I'll be able to wrap a future Monkee up in a blanket made from the love & determination of a little old lady who barely knew me, but loved me all the same.

Three Seconds to Scheduled Self Destruct . . .

2008-10-01T18:07:00.003-05:00

Why is it that when things get at their worse, I fight tooth & nail to hang on? To prove that I can do it? That I am not a weak person and that I can persevere through anything? Why? No one else really cares. Well, I mean they do care, but they'll love me regardless, or at least I hope they do. So, why is it that when things are going great and that I am at my happiest, I constantly look & wait for the other shoe to drop? Why do I slam that shoe down so often for myself? Every time I start to get happy, I have to sabotage it in some way if it doesn't go bad by itself. Is it some deep rooted need to get back to the hard times just to prove that I can survive it? Or can I just not be happy?

I look at my life and its nothing like I pictured it when I was younger. Of course, for the longest time, I thought I was going to die before I turned 18 because I could never see myself past that age. So once I reached 18, I realized I had some planning to do. I look back now and I realize that I was sabotaging myself even then. Rather than accept a full scholarship to an awesome college in Massachusetts, I took the "easy" route and stayed here in Texas to be close to my "best friend". Where would I be now if I had taken it? Would I have a degree right now? Would I be married? Would I have kids? I wouldn't have met BD. I wouldn't be paying off student loans to a university that I didn't even finish. I wouldn't be trying to find the money to go back to school now. That was such a huge turning point in my life and I have to ask myself, did I make the wrong decision? I'm hopelessly in love with BD, but at the same time, what if I had just finished school? Hell, if I had even finished school before marrying him? Would I be in the situation that I am in now?

So many times I've been presented with awesome opportunities, things that I would have to absolutely stupid to turn down, and for some reason, I STILL turn my back on them? What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I so scared of doing something with myself? Why am I so scared of myself? I'd rather just do the impulsive thing and hope for the best. When will I grow up?

Houston, You Were Great, but I Gotta Jet

2008-08-28T11:33:00.004-05:00

Well lonely reader, you may not be aware of this, but my daddio is a very lucky man. See back in the day (I believe it was a Wednesday (and if you know where that is from, you indeed deserve to be my friend)), Daddio had rheumatic fever. Said fever caused his heart to enlarge and damaged a valve in his heart. After a valve replacement in '80, the new valve decided it did not like its new home and refused to work. So fast forward to '88 when there was a motorcycle accident where the motorcyclist did not survive . . . but is size XL heart did. Which may have presented a problem for Daddio. Daddio is a small, though he pretends to be a medium, but due to the swelling of his old heart, his chest was stretched just enough to accommodate the XL heart. Isn't that awesome? And speaking of awesome, the operation left a huge scare down the center of his chest (imagine open heart surgery doing that?). When the Little Sis was later born, she had a matching birthmark running down the center of her chest. Weird ain't it?

Anyway, because of his transplant, Daddio has to travel down to Houston every year to get a check up and make sure everything is still working correctly. Because Daddio is also hard headed, he skipped last years check up, but decided to be good and rescheduled for April of this year. Then Daddio almost died so he missed that appointment. So here we are, nearly 5 months later. Daddio is doing well with dialysis and Houston has "requested" his presence in order to check the heart they so carefully placed in him over 20 years ago. After spending the night in a questionable hotel and being sent on laps around the hospital, we finally got checked in Monday morning and the tests began.

Right away, ultrasounds revealed large amounts of fluid in his abdomen & around his lungs. We knew about this because it looks like Daddio is about 12 months pregnant. Echo cardiograms looked ok. The next big hurdle was his heart cath & his Tuesday dialysis and then we would be on our way home. Yeah, so about that heart cath. Dr Looks Too Hot to be the Guy Who Operated on Daddio 20 Years Ago (or Dr LTHGWOD20Y) saw something that had him "concerned". That concern warranted an extra day of tests and pills to make Daddio's heart race. And the possibility of surgery to correct the problem. Fun times.

So Wednesday morning they were up bright & early to wheel Daddio off to take more tests. And the waiting began. . . Mind you this whole time I've been sleeping on a fold out chair in his room. It was all that bad, but its a friggin fold out chair. Also, I had only packed enough clothes to last me definitely through Wednesday, pushing it for Thursday. Guess who got to find a Walmart? Thank God for gps. If it werent for gps, I would still be driving the loop around Houston 3 weeks from now. So after stocking up on clean drawers & a couple of cheap shirts & shorts (curse you Houston Walmart with your lack of decent clearance plus size clothing), I fought the crazy Houston traffic back to the hospital (which has valet parking, now thats classy). My hopes were dashed when I found that Dr LTHGWOD20Y had not been by with results, but the rumor of a second heart cath had been started. Silly gossips.

Another night on the fold out chair and a 4:30 wake up call from Nazi Nurse, and the results were finally in. Heart looks great . . except for the leaky right tricuspid valve thats causing back flow . . . due to all the fluid that the dialysis is not getting off . . . oh and there's no way to fix it except with more dialysis. So now rather than 3 times a week, Daddio will be getting it 4 times a week. And hopefully that will work, otherwise, it'll just be something he has to live with. ummm, yea?

So after a really long week, we are going home. I am so friggin ready. I miss BD, I miss Boo, I miss Tivo, hell, I even miss Shiner Bock. But there is one ray of sunshine . . . Jubilee comes home tomorrow!!!! I wonder if Boo is ready for that . . .

Seriously, I'm Serious This Time

2008-08-28T00:09:00.003-05:00

Heheheh, yeah, remember back a month ago, when I said I was soooo going to get on the band wagon and start posting to this thing? Yeah, that was just practice. I wanted to just see how the words felt to put them down on the internet. It felt good. Really. But this time, I am sooooo serious. Like everyday there will be something new even if its just rambling. Pinkie swear promise ring, pinch poke you owe me a coke serious. Right now though, its too frigging late, my back is stretched all funny from typing while laying in hospital fold out bed and I have to get some sleep before the Nurse Nazi comes in at 445. Oh, why am I typing this from the hospital? Guess my nonexistent readers will have to turn in tomorrow to find out. Hahahaha, who's serious now?

Ripples

2008-08-27T11:46:00.001-05:00

This is a post from my other blog that sorta explains what happened back in April of this year with my dad, which will better explain later blogs. Just go with it, it'll make sense eventually.

I’ve come to the conclusion that not only does God have a hand in things, but He likes to make His presence known with ripples. . .

Last Thursday I got a ticket. I had failed to have my car inspected and apparently Fort Worth Marshalls frown upon that. Friday rolls around and my brother was supposed to work some overtime but his boss cancelled the overtime due to the fact he missed a day earlier in the week. Rather than waste the day, he heads to my house so I can do his invoices and he can use my fax/computer. As I’m finishing up, he tries calling our dad, but he doesn’t answer. No biggie. Daddio always calls back within a few minutes. I mention my ticket to my brother & he asks why I haven’t gotten it done. He offers to take me to get it done and I figure ’Why not? I don’t have anything better to do’.

So we hop in my car and off we head to the magical inspection place where my car passes with flying colors. Meanwhile, my brother agains tries to reach our dad & again, no answer. This is not typical Daddio behavior. Once again we hop in my car and roll out to my dad’s house. After pounding on his door for about 10 minutes, a man who can barely talk, let alone breathe answers his door. After staring at this wobbly figure for a second, I realize the gasping man before me who can hardly keep his feet is my daddy. Something is not right; things are far from alright. I call my sister who comes over immediately. In the short time it takes her to get there, my daddy quickly begins declining. He props himself in a chair, face so swollen with fluid, his eyes barely close. Every breath a desperate gasp at air. Its all he can do just to sit there and breathe. I’m scared.

My sister arrives and after a quick assessment, its a dash for the hospital. Riding in a car, counting every breath that my daddy takes, hoping & praying that there is a next one to count is not a ride I want to repeat. When we arrive at the hospital, the medical staff immediately rush him to a trauma/work room where he is intubated and placed on a respirator. His O2 levels were hovering around 40%. His body temp was 89.3. His blood sugar level was 19. Most of his organs were shut down or shutting down. As a nurse later put it, those stats are not compatible with life.

The rest of Friday is a blur. I just remember being told repeatedly by many different doctors prepare ourselves for the very real possibility that this would be our last night with our father. The chances of his survival were slim to none. We should hope, but we should also prepare. The words grave, critical, & overwhelming were in continous use. I was blank. All I could think is that I’m not ready to be a member of That Club yet. I know it was selfish, but I couldn’t help praying that God would be satisfied with Monkee. I asked Him to at least let me have my daddy if I couldn’t have Monkee. I was really scared.

While Daddy was in the ER & after he was intubated, he was responsive. We were able to talk to him and he would nod or wiggle his eyebrows. He clinged to whoever’s hand he was holding. The nurses were amazed he was so responsive & calm. I told them my daddy was a trooper. Daddy eagerly nodded his head in agreement.

Eventually, Daddy stabilized enough they could move him upstairs to the icu unit where he remained in critical condition. By this time, it was very early Saturday morning so we all said our goodnights and headed home. Daddy remained at Harris Southwest until Sunday. He was eventually diagnosed with an overwhelming case of pneumonia that went untreated ultimately causing his body to become septic. His kidneys shut down & his liver has some damage as well. They moved him to Harris Downtown Sunday. He became agitated during the move and his breathing became strained even on the respirator, so they sedated him to give his lungs a rest. He’s still in ICU and remains on a respirator & sedated. Dialysis started this week as well. Today he had a chest catheter placed for dialysis as they don’t know if his kidneys will function again. Everyday is filled with good news, then bad news, followed by okayish news. I’m still very scared.

I’m trying to remember that my daddy is a fighter. He had a heart transplant in 1988. The doctors are amazed that he has had the heart for over 20 years now and has had no previous health complications prior to this. Of course he’s way too stubborn to get let germs & sickness get over on him, but this time they did. And now he’s struggling for his life. I’m struggling with my faith. I’m hopeful & I pray for my dad’s recovery, but losing Monkee has left a doubt in me that I don’t know how to fix. I don’t want to get my hopes up that everything is okay only to have it come crashing down on me again. I can’t take that pain anymore. I’m still struggling with the loss of my baby. I don’t know that I can handle the loss of my daddy too.

But my mom pointed something out to me. If it hadn’t been for the ripples that God put in motion- my ticket, my brother’s overtime being cancelled- my daddy could very well be gone right now. I’d like to believe that since we were able to find him in time, that its not his time yet. But I’m still scared- very, very scared.

I'm a Slacker Baby

2008-07-29T17:19:00.002-05:00

Geez, guess I'm a little neglectful. My blog baby has been suffering and I've been turning a blind eye to it. I really do have every intention to write every day, but then I pull up a word pad and my mind goes blank. All the wonderful blog ideas that I come up with while I'm tossing & turning trying to fall asleep seem to drift away once I do. Le sigh.

Speaking of tossing & turning, sleep is not my friend right now. For the past few nights, I absolutely cannot fall asleep. I lay in bed feeling not the least bit sleepy until finally I can't take it anymore and go downstairs. So then I watch tv until I finally pass out from exhaustion around 4 or 5, only to wake up a couple of hours later. And trying to nap during the day is pointless. I feel so tired that I think surely to goodness I'll be knocked out in no time, only to lay there until I just get back up again. So everything is a fog right now.

Meh, I meant to write so much more, but I'm afraid this will start turning sad. Monkee should be 33 weeks today. Should be, but isn't. Where did that time go?

Oh my love will fly
to you each night
on angel's wings
Godspeed, sweet dreams

Brinner. It's What's for Dinner

2008-06-18T13:08:00.002-05:00

What is with the obsession that BD has with Brinner? For those not in the know, Brinner is breakfast for dinner. BD is all about Brinner all the time. I used to think he was crazy. Breakfast is for breakfast. Dinner is for. . . You guessed it, dinner. But because I’m the loving wife that I am, I indulged every once in a blue moon. That was before The Episode of Scrubs. Now, there are many The Episodes because BD is a die hard Scrubs fan. He nearly cried at the end of this season. Of course that may have had something to do with the fact that I told him it was the last episode, EVER. I guess I failed to mention it was just moving networks. Big baby.

So back to this particular The Episode (Season 7, episode 7), Turk is secretly learning Spanish to surprise Carla. At dinner one night, he begs & pleads for her to cook Brinner for him, but adamantly refuses. Later He listens in on a conversation she is having with her cousin in Spanish and learns that she would be willing to fix him Brinner if he would only pick up around the house. Turk quickly jumps up and cleans before she finishes her phone call. After seeing how well he did, she agreed to cook him Brinner.

*Cue the light clicking on in BD’s head*

“Babe, even Turk got Brinner . . . .”

“Turk cleaned up around the house”

“I would so clean up if you cooked me Brinner”

“I let you touch my naughty bits & you still don’t clean”

“If they came with Brinner I would”

*Eye Roll*

So now we have Brinner almost once a week. It’s probably for the best. Its cheaper, easier to cook, and my naughty bits get touched a little more often. Even if the touching has a hint of turkey bacon.

Disclaimer

2008-06-16T19:19:00.000-05:00

Okay, every blog wont be a Dear God Letter. But it just might be. It helps me to pray if I can see my prayers. I’m a visual person. Some blogs will be random crap that pops in my head. Others will just be rants about the lack of a fetus in my uterus. There’s no telling what things will wind up here. All I know is if there is anyone out there, just sit back and watch me go. And if you are out there, let me know. I’d love to know everything about you and maybe you’d like to know more stuff about me. Maybe.

Its Me, T

2008-06-16T19:07:00.002-05:00

Dear God,

First, let me apologize. I know, I know- I haven’t been around much. I’ve been pissed, well not so much pissed, but just really disappointed with you. I hoped & prayed for a baby for so long. I admit, I finally just gave up. I turned it over to you and you blessed us with a baby. I was so happy & thankful for that baby. I just knew that our baby was finally going to join us and everything would be back on track again. Well, you know how that turned out. I’ve already asked why too many times to even bother asking it again because I still don’t know and I haven’t gotten an answer that I recognize yet. Eventually maybe I’ll be able to recognize the answer but for now . . . I’m still disappointed.

With that disappointment, I’ve tuned you out. I still hear you & I still feel you hanging about, but I’m not ready to acknowledge you yet. I’m thankful for everything that you’ve blessed us with this year. You literally pulled Daddio back from the point of no return. You’ve made a way for BD & I when I quit my job & wasn’t as positive as I made BD believe that we would be okay. So I know you are there and even though I’m still not quite ready to deal with you, I’m realizing I don’t really have a choice in the matter. No matter how hard I pushed you away, you just pulled me closer & held on tight. Now here I am. I’m opening myself back up to you. I want you to come back in my life & maybe we can work on our relationship again.

I’ve been asked to pray for some many, and sometimes I actually do, but most times I don’t. So here it goes:

Help Mom & Pops open up the lines of communication in their relationship. Help Pop and his need for alcohol. Help Mom address her health issues and realize they’re not just going to go away if she ignores them.
The Brother . . . wow. You know what needs to be done with him. He has so much courage & smarts to start his ideas, but I pray that you give him the wisdom to know when enough is enough and when to give it one more try.
Watch over Lulu. Keep her safe and healthy. Please keep allowing us to be a part of her life in a positive so that our relationship will continue to grow.
Keep pouring out the blessings on The Sister & her crew. Let Q’s photography take off so he will be able to provide for his family.
My Daddio . . . please let his strength return. Heal his body as well as his mind. Keep giving him the strength & focus to get well.
And for BD & I- heal our hearts. Help us get to that place we were at in December. Allow us to be happy as a family of 2 again so that when we are blessed again, we can share that happiness with our new Monkee.