Monday Missions

Monday Missions

Monday I woke coughing... as I have for days. The meds wear off around 5 a.m. I got up, drank some water and we bumped the air up. It seems to get very hot that time of the morning and I was sweating and that is when I start coughing. I got it under control but went back to bed for a short while. Only to wake again around 9 coughing. We all got up then and dressed.

We decided yesterday in our rambles that we would have breakfast at IHOP on Monday. My cousin and his family were to drive down and join us for the week so this would be our last day of somewhat isolated rambles. I don't know what they will want to do but it appears we will be going to a dinner theater one night and then perhaps to Disney World. I've never been and while I like theme parks, they aren't much fun if you are alone. Jerry and I loved going to theme parks when we first married. We didn't have children for five years and even when we did, we loved taking the boys. I know, there will be family here but it isn't the same as having a companion to do things with. And I can't write more about that at this point. It is much too painful and I'm here to enjoy myself.

We went to a mall after breakfast and shopped. I found a shop that sells luggage at a discount price and found a nice piece that would be a good size. My aunt thought it would be too expensive and I could find some at Wal-mart cheaper. I have decided that if I'm going to do this traveling thing, I have to have good luggage. So, I will probably go back and buy it before I leave. And they had a nice laptop case I could get too, with wheels. I will have to see if I want to do that.

When we came back we checked on internet and found they have a business center here where we can get on when we want to check our mail and read our blogs. Posting is still a problem but I am going to try and buy a flashdrive that will hold what I've been writing and take it over to try and post it.

I'm going now to dress for the pool. I love the pool and they have really nice ones here. I don't know what we will do for supper.

On Our Way!

Well, I am up, dressed and getting ready to load the car. I'm officially on my way to... well, the airport, silly. Two hour drive ahead and there was a bit of shuffling when everyone who had said they'd drive me couldn't make it. So, I'm driving myself and parking my car at the airport for a week. I'm nervous about that but has to be done.

I will check in as soon as I get somewhere that has internet!

Feel much better this morning although the throat is still sore and I woke coughing around 3 a.m. The codeine does help the cough quite a bit I found last night. I may take a small dose before I fly because it sure didn't knock me out! Didn't even make me terribly drowsy. I took my melantonin and that put me to sleep. LOL. I just don't do narcotics well. They either have NO effect or they cause all manner of unwanted effects. Oh well.

We're off! More late!

Dragged Through a Hedge

That's how I feel, as if I were dragged through a hedge backwards. That is another old saying. Death warmed over. The end of the week is here and I'm supposed to fly out to my unknown destination tomorrow morning. I am still sick. If you have watched the videos, you know, like my baby sister so eloquently put it, I look like crap. I said earlier this week I felt like three kinds of crap.

I saw an urgent care doctor yesterday afternoon. Mike took me and he said the guy is an idiot to say I can still fly on Saturday. He gave me a Z-pac antibiotic to prevent a secondary infection and some of what I am already taking but free meds are always good. The Z-pac upset my stomach a bit last night. I will take the next one when I eat later.

I have a regular appointment today with my doctor at 8:15 so he will be the final say as to whether I fly or not. Mike will be impossible to life with if he says I can't fly. Mike will think he has a PHD. He won't be happy if I'm cleared either. He doesn't want me to go.

Frankly, I am so tired. Despite the codeine cough medicine I did not sleep too well. Woke up at 4 a.m. and it had worn off and I was coughing again. I couldn't take it again because I have to get up at 7 a.m. I did take something for the stuffy nose and it helped but the cough medicine in what he gave me, well, I can't tell if it is working or not. I will take it all early tonight because 4 a.m. is an ungodly hour.

My cold sounds wet. Mothers will know what that means. My lungs are rejecting the crap that is in them. So, it is breaking up but I feel absolutely horrible. I just want to go to bed and stay there. I have to come back and pack for a week of vacation. Yipee. I do hope I feel better tomorrow. I can't imagine driving two hours to the airport and spending the day in the airports with this. I probably will be over the worst by Monday anyway but getting there is a long way. And I can't change my flights with that in mind.

Well, I'm going to get ready for the doctor's office.

The Best Laid Schemes O' Mice An' Men

Gang aft agley, .--Robert Burns

I've lain in the chair for hours with movies going. My head hurts when I cough and I am coughing a lot. My chest is still tight and my throat hurts... probably from coughing too. I've been drinking sodas most of the night but I'm going and drink a big glass of cold water in a minute. I did eat something earlier but now wonder why I did that.

I am so miserable and for the 1000th time wish Jerry were home to at least bring me a drink now and then. Or just pat me on the head. Sometimes when I was sick at night, he'd rub my back. It didn't make me feel better. It just was something to let me know I wasn't alone. I am.

I don't really have anyone to take care of me but me. Funny, I've said a million times I could take care of myself. Now I get to prove it. Sometimes we do get justice.

I don't dare let the kids come over. I couldn't bear it if I made Sarah sick. We are already terrified to let her play with anyone or go anywhere.

Friday morning I see my doctor, if I don't go somewhere before then. I may see if there is a urgent care clinic somewhere I can go to tomorrow. The ones on my insurance are closed now but they are not the best ones anyway. I'd rather go to St. Mary's but my insurance won't cover them.

I suspect I'm going to have to cancel my trip. I don't see how I can fly with this.
I'm sure it is a bad cold and I hope a good sleep will bring some relief. I don't actually want to give this to anyone else so I'm not concerned with the trip a whole lot. I can take another trip a bit later if I want. My boss is very good that way.

I'll just go to work instead of leaving town. But I really wanted to get away for a bit. I'll just have to think of something else if this doesn't happen. I could just drive down and take a long weekend with my aunt and uncle... once I'm well. They just got over some kind of bug where they were vomiting so.... this is just lousy.

More later. I'm truly hitting the sack now.

It Is Official

I am sick. I have a full blown cold. I just went and bought cough medicine cause I'm coughing my head off. I have a stopped up nose, sore throat, and the elephant on my chest.

So, not sure what I'll be doing the next couple of days. I don't even know if I'll be able to fly. With this congestion in my head I could rupture an eardrum. I have a doctor's appointment on Friday morning so I will wait to consider this until after that.

Bottom line, I feel like three kinds of crap. Take your pick.

Not a Good Day

I have to be at the dentist in about 40 minutes to get crowned and my day will probably run pretty fast after that. I work four days this week and then I'm off for a week.

It isn't a good day. I woke up and immediately and thought "I need St John's Wort." I can't take it however. The hair loss seems to have come to a relative halt. I'm losing hair but it seems to be a normal amount when I brush and not coming out all over the place. After I ate breakfast I had a bad spell. I'm under control at the moment, but it doesn't bode well for the day.

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. That's what I do under my breath. I figure if I say it enough it will be true. That will be never the case but we all live in hope to some degree. I see my doctor on Friday and I'll mention it to him. I'm sure he will recommend a prescription antidepressant but that's not going to happen.

I've got too many examples of people who now have to take antidepressants for life. This is a 20th century phenomena. The increase in the incidence of depression is related to the industrial revolution. As we got wealthier, we got depressed. As the rat race increased, we got depressed. We became nastier people and we got depressed. The world became more aware of itself and we didn't like what we saw so we got depressed and made other people depressed. Depression is an illness that we caused. It has become a slavery. However, as long as I can deal with it I'm not picking up the chains willingly. I know my limits and I know how hard it is to come out of it. But I've done this before and I will do it again.

Maybe I just don't want to go to work. Well, that too. I don't feel tired or anything. In fact, I woke before the clock went off and a good thing. The alarm wasn't on. I distinctly remember setting it so not sure what I did.

I enjoyed my time off and doing what I wanted to do. And I got so much accomplished I should feel thrilled. But the hard work is still to do. I need to call the person I was told might be able to do some things for me.

Since it is early, there is nothing to write about but how bad I feel and I don't want to keep harping on that all the time. Although, I suppose that is what a journal is supposed to be used for, to spill all the chaos of life onto it's pages. It does help to write it but there are times I want to have something positive to write.

I've been telling you all that I'm going on a trip next week. In fact, I fly out Saturday from Louisville to an, as yet, undisclosed location. I am going to meet my aunt and uncle again. I will be telling you more later. Right now, it is a secret. I decided it would be more fun to keep people guessing than just give it all away. Actually, I don't remember the name of the place we are going. They are picking me up at an airport on the way. However, I will tell you the location is in the South. It is near a body of water. That's all for now.

I'm going to brush my teeth and go to get my crown. About time someone recognized my worth.

Labor Day Begins

I got up at 9:00 a.m.! Wow! I slept LATE!

I have spent the last two and a half hours catching up on blogs, playing a game, reading and answering email. Now, I'm wanting food. My church has a labor day picnic and I was going but I think this is one "first" I elect NOT to have this year. My husband loved to go to the picnic and we'd just sit in our chairs and watch the games or he'd stand and talk to the menfolk. He just loved being there. I can't do that today. I'm been feeling better and I just don't want to go there. Since I'm not taking anything for depression, it is too easy to do.

I am going to try and pry Mike out of is bed so we can eat and get started on the real work!

What's Wrong with Me?

I had a question in the previous post. Beefreelady asked why I had pain in my joints and extremities. Anyone who has read the blog for a year knows that I have rheumatoid arthritis and fibromalgia

I wake up with pain and I go to sleep with it. No cures for it and no meds will eliminate the symptoms. It is what it is. So, because of that, I'm going to pick up heavy items and walk for miles when my legs hurt. Type all day when my hands hurt. Work in the yard when everything hurts and I can't get out of bed the next day. I simply refuse to stop living to become a slave to these diseases.

So, I do what I have to do and it punishes me later. That's o.k. cause I'm just going to do it again tomorrow. I may have them, but they don't have ME.

Not yet, anyway.

Seven Thirty Sunday

The clock went off at 7:30 and I thought it was a work day! I jerked awake think "Oh my goodness! I'm gonna be later!" I HATE that and it has been happening a lot on the days I am off. Perhaps the days are running together or something. I don't know but I really hate waking up like that. I may change my alarm sound for a bit to see if it helps.

Or maybe on weekends I can use a different sound. My sleeping brain won't be yanked back to reality so hard. . . maybe. {sigh} Just a thought.

Slept fine, I think. Kind of hard to tell if you slept well when you get jerked awake like that. At any rate, I slept hard.

I"m not writhing in pain this morning so that is a plus. Feet hurt. They usually do but not quite so much. Hands hurt. This happens off and on too but is more so today. As for the rest of me, well, not so bad considering it is a gloomy, drizzly day. My knees hurt a bit too but I think I can walk. Geezzzzz, I sound like a train wreck! Or that I was hit by something traveling at high speeds.

Anyway, I am going to get ready for church. I have several people who are supposedly going. We will see. Usually they don't. Mike will be so sore he can't walk. He doesn't get enough exercise and he's gained a l lot of weight since Jerry died. So, I don't expect he will be out of bed soon.

I am going to fix my hair and get dressed. I will be back after church but my plan is to sit down to the laptop and write some. Been working on mist a bit more since I go it. I'm trying to get into it again. November is coming and I want to have myself disciplined for it. This will not be impossible but it will be difficult. It has been my practice to find something to keep my mind off what has happened. That usually involves computer games and internet cruising, and visiting everyone's blog, and my Facebook account (I really am not crazy about Facebook but I do have some friends I like there, so I keep it.)

In fact, the game Farmtown on FB has been a great diversion. I realized when I got bored with it a few weeks ago that it was probably coming to an end. Seven months of planting, plowing, and harvesting and flowers etc have served their purpose. They have kept me from thinking many nights. Now, I want to do something else.

So, first vacation, then writer's group, then Nano, and then holidays............I forgot holidays.

I'm stopping there. I'll think about that later.

Writing Again....

I've been pretty busy during the day this week and pretty tired at night. I've come home, watch a couple of shows, and gone to bed.

But. . . my new toy arrived Wednesday and I am so excited. I got a new laptop! Yes, yes, yes! I did it! I have been playing with it to see what I could do with it. So far, I think I like. I have a web-cam built into it so I will be able to chat on Windows Live messenger with my family and do some video blogging too. I can take it outside and enjoy the outdoors if there is any more lovely days when I'm off! Keeps raining or is too hot. I will have it on my trip, too.

Today, for the first time, I took it to McDonald's on my lunch hour and spent the time writing! I was just so tickled to be able to do that. They don't have Wi-fi there so the internet was not a lure. I didn't go with anyone to lunch so no distractions. It worked great! And I'm ready for November write-ins if we have any here.

And we might! Recently, I was contacted by a woman who moved into the area who was a participant in NaNoWriMo in another state and wanted to meet those in this area. Well, now there are six of us emailing and trying to arrange to start a writers group. We're looking possibly meeting in late September or October. I'm really looking forward to that.

I've finally realized that I have got to find new friends and let go of the old. Well, not you folks . . . you know what I mean. But honestly, I don't guess there are any to let go of. You can't let go of what you never had to begin with. So, I'm looking for ways to meet other people with similar interests to my own. Just like I did on Multiply.

I got to thinking that since life as I knew it is dead and buried with most of my heart, there is no one to notice if I move on to other interests and friends. No, I'm not over it. I just can't stay here and survive. I can't stay in this house, in the dark and stay sane.

I am beginning to feel the effects of no SJW for three days. No terribly so but a bit. We'll see if the hair lost lessens. Just keep me in your prayers. I have no desire to start falling apart again. If that happens, I'll have to take it, hair or no hair.

I'm pretty tired now. Mike and I had a movie night and pizza. It was nice. We watched the move Thr3e. It was really great. I read the book last year and was so glad when he said they had the movie at the library. He watched it and loved it, too. About halfway through he said, "You know, Mom, there has not been one ugly word said in this movie." I told him I knew that but the writer was a Christian author and that movies don't have to have sex or dirty words to be good." That's true. They just have to tell a good story. And this is a really good story.

If you have not read the book, I'd encourage you to read it or rent the movie. It is a novel by a Christian but not a exactly a religious novel. It is a mystery about a seminary student that someone is trying to kill. It has a killer ending that will just blow you away. This is how they should be making suspense movies.

Afterward, I took him home and we had ice cream. It was a nice evening and I'm ready for bed. I will see you all back here sometime tomorrow. We are celebrating Sarah's birthday tomorrow night with the family. Her dad had to work on her birthday and so we are all having cake and ice cream here. And presents, of course.

Blonde Joke

An old, blind cowboy wanders into an all-girl biker bar by mistake. He finds his way to a bar stool and orders some coffee. After sitting there for a while, he yells to the waiter, 'Hey, you wanna hear a blonde joke?'

The bar immediately falls absolutely silent. In a very deep, husky voice, the woman next to him says, 'Before you tell that joke Cowboy, I think it is only fair, given that you are blind, that you should know five things:

1. The bartender is a blonde girl with a baseball bat.

2. The bouncer is a blonde girl.

3. I'm a 6-foot tall, 175-pound blonde woman with a black belt in karate.

4. The woman sitting next to me is blonde and a professional weightlifter.

5. The lady to your right is blonde and a professional wrestler.

Now, think about it seriously, Mister. Do you still wanna tell that joke?'

The blind cowboy thinks for a second, shakes his head, and mutters, 'Naw......Not if I'm gonna have to explain it five times.'

Happy Birthday to You!

Sarah Cheyenne is three years old today!

Happy Birthday, Sarah!

Passings

I just found that my friend, Just Cassandra's father passed away over night. Please keep her in your prayers. The next several months will be very difficult and painful.

Parades and Circuses

My leg was so sore when I got up this morning. Remember I woke with it hurting on Sunday. If you saw the video in my album, you know I ran all over my back yard with a certain little blond. Leg did not like it at all. I got to work at 7:45 a.m. and the day began with a roar. I limped into the building but spent the whole day on the run!

My boss walked in a few minutes behind me limping! He had sprained his ankle playing basketball over the weekend. He said he was waiting to see if it would get better. I sent him off to the doctor. LOL! Had to tell him it could be broken and he needed it checked. He came back several hours later with a boot and instructions to go back to the orthopedic clinic in 11 days.

I worked non-stop on files, stopping only to take a lunch break with my friend, Carolyn at McDonald's. We go there most days to sit and talk. Then it was back to work to try and finish my mounds of work.

In the afternoon I got an email from my author/teacher/friend, Ron Roat. You remember I mentioned him last year in a few posts and there is a link to his site, Remedial Academy, somewhere in my links section. He was my writing instructor from college. We've remained friends but he moved last year to Michigan. He was in town to drop his daughter off at the university and wanted to meet for coffee after I got off work. I agreed but had my appointment with my counselor, Dan, at 5 p.m. so it would have to be at 6.

I arrived at the clinic and had the usual "how are you" relay game where I make some attempt to prove my stability. He, like everyone that knows me, thinks I am a very funny person after a few minutes deduces that I am better.

I never understand the "you're so funny" statement. People always say it about me but I never get it. Is there something wrong with me that I don't think I'm funny? Thinking about it now, I realize that my whole family is funny. I have two brothers that can have the whole room rolling in minutes and people will be doubled over holding their sides and literally sobbing with laughter. My sisters and I seem to send people into tears over really stupid stuff. I have cousins who are hysterically funny. It seems we were blessed with this uncanny ability to make people laugh. But life was just hell for most of us. We're some of the most dysfunctional people on the planet. Well, not like the Bundys and Mansons, and those other folks. But we're not right. And people think we are just these hilarious folks! {head shake here}

Anyway, during nearly an hour of rollicking fun with Dan we discussed my concerns over my hair loss and the fact that I might soon have HIS hairstyle. I told him I thought I was better because the St. John's Wort was working but I was going to have to get off of it because I thought was causing my hair to fall out. He thinks it is possibly something else and suggest when I see my doctor in a week that I talk to him about it.

I left to meet Ron at.... McDonalds. Well it is a happening place. . . for me anyway. I seem to be destined to meet men either at parades or circuses.

Ron is always a lot of fun and I've always enjoyed our meetings. Usually it is mostly about what's he's been doing and I'm the listener. Today he was a good friend and played the listener. He asked me what happened. I told him. He seemed to know that was the right thing to do. And like all of you, said it wasn't my fault. Maybe I'll believe that someday. I doubt it but won't just toss it off.

So, what did we talk about? I talked about this blogging thing and you've got to know, he's not a touchy, feely sort of person. He's really an old softy but doesn't want anyone to know. But he's not sold on blogging for the sake of blogging or of hanging out the laundry. Doesn't think I can "help" anyone by any of this. I, of course, disagree. I help me. Totally selfish.

He told me again there is no God. He does that every time we meet. I ignore him because we will never agree on this and I refuse to follow endless arguments that can't be solved with people I admire and like. You're a believer or not and that's the end of it. I lose nothing by anyone's lack of faith. I can't convince anyone who doesn't really want to believe anyway.

So, we move on to writing, his and mine - he's published- I probably won't ever be but we both like talking about it. I rave over NaNo and actually got a spark of interest from the baby blues. We talked about his daughter. I remember sitting and talking with her when she was just a little girl with freckles. Segue to my kids, his work or retirement, his trip down, my trips - past and future. My flying - He's a pilot and of course, sympathized with those really bad ones from Memphis. Whatever flew into my head pretty much flew out my mouth. And he just listened and made Roatian jokes that made me laugh.

Do you know that when I left McDonalds two hours later I was smiling on the inside as well as the outside. I felt like I was breathing again for the first time in months. I smiled all the way to Walgreen's to pick up my meds. I don't remember laughing this much in a long time. It was a good end to a busy day and I'm so thankful for a friend like Ron.

I think that's what I've been trying to say for days, or weeks maybe. Friends are what make the unbearable, bearable. It is when loads get the heaviest that friends should step in and ask to shoulder some of the weight. I supposed the depth of friendship is what gets measured during times like this. You don't really know if people care until you actually need that care. What continues to surprise me is that those who loudly say they care are often those who care the least. I don't know how to fix that but I can make sure that I'm not the problem. I can make sure when someone needs to be heard that I am the one listening.

He really is a good teacher . . and a good friend.

Oh My Aching. . .

Pick one. Anyone will do. I think it was the fibro kicking in but maybe not. The clock woke me at 7:30 and my legs were hurting. My back was hurting. My neck was hurting and my hands. I think I got chilled. I'm not sure. I seem to be more cold natured than I used to be. Some nights I get cold and my air is not set very low. I think 74 degrees. For some reason about 4 in the morning the house seems much cooler or I am much cooler.

I went back to sleep and slept until 10:30... too late for church. Sarah is sick this morning too. She's caught Mike's cold. She didn't see him that much but I suspect it is just going around. Better she catch things from us since we seem to catch less nasty bugs than some folks.

Well, I'm going now. I've been lying around, chatting with my friend Alice and that is always fun. She's a very funny person and I usually end up in stitches talking to her. I need all the laughs I can get.

Maybe I'll pop back in later today. Don't know. If the aches are not too bad I will.

Lancing

It is true that lancing a wound will make it feel better. I've had injuries that became infected and after they were drained and bandaged they felt so much better.

After my meltdown this morning I had a better afternoon. No, I can't say I'm less angry. I'm just reconciled to it. I can't fix the world. I can't fix me. It isn't really my job to fix anything.

So, having vented, I left the house and had lunch with my son, Mike and exchanged some clothes for my granddaughter, Sarah.Then, we picked up Sarah and her mother, Becca. I took Mike home and the three of us came to my house to tutor Becca in math and Sarah took a swim in the turtle pool. Dave got off around 7 and came and picked them up.

I've just had time to get a shower and sit down to read blogs and emails and comments to my blogs. My poor aunt called and thanked me for making her cry. I had warned her ahead of time not to read the post today because it would upset her. Of course, her middle name is Eve. . .

I do have to thank all you brave souls who came in and felt you could post to that frightening blog. I do read all comments and sometimes I reply but I think I'd said all I could. What I did not say, you said for me.

I am also learning things from the comments people leave. They do give me some comfort. They do make sense. There is solace in having another human being say something, even if it is "I'm sorry for what has happened to you."

I've learned that one of the most common events in life is the least understood and acknowledged by those who will experience it more than once in their lives.

Think about that for a second.

When a baby is born we celebrate with gifts, and laughter, and showers. We call and write and send toys. Every milestone is met with fanfare and thousands of dollars in long distance calls. Photos of every step, fall, and giggle are sent over the internet, in letters, cards and even calendars. Every birthday is a monumental event until you're 16. After that, the tend to decrease is importance to everyone but you. But for 16 years, you get noticed.

Death, on the other hand, is a hurried affair. Ideally you want it over in four days and you don't want to EVER repeat it. The widow can cry all she or he wants until after the funeral but is then expected to appear in public fully in control of his or her faculties and ready to function normally. If you are fortunate to be able to take time off, well, two weeks should do it. The widow is expected to smile when meeting friends but no mention should be made of the deceased. After all, its over and done. It isn't like a first tooth after all.

No, dying is an embarrassment to everyone. I mean, it even out ranks prostitution. And guess what? It is contagious. If you live long enough, it will catch you.

Imagine also. At some point both of your parents will die. If you marry, you or your spouse will die. Losing a spouse is worse than losing a parent. I've lost both. Believe me. I adored Mama above every one else but losing Jerry was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I lost half my identity. The only thing I can think of that could be worse is the death of a child. God deliver me from that! And if you have children they could die before you. If you have siblings one or more of these could die before you die yourself.

Imagine now, after you have read all my raging against death, imagine the feelings of the wives whose husbands died on 9/11. Imagine the husbands, and children, and parents who death slapped that day. Imagine all the horror, all the pain, all the nightmares you've read in my blogs and that also followed their lives and still follow. Do they wonder if one of those who jumped out the windows was their loved one? Thousands of people were jerked into a nightmare from which there is no waking.

Think about all that for just a minute. All those points at which death can reach out and touch you personally. How quickly, unexpectedly and cruelly it can come. And yet, we don't know how to deal with it? Even worse is that we don't know how to deal with the people who are dealing with death!

Imagine that. . . . . I can't.

How did we get to this place where we do not know how to comfort the grieving? Exactly when did we become so disinterested in human suffering that we forgot compassion?

Anger Phase

WARNING: This blog post deals with graphic and raw emotions surrounding grief. If you are upset or offended by emotional displays or strong language, leave now.

It is Sat-ur-day. That's right. This is Ur day to sit. Says so on the label. I've been up since 6:30 more or less. Clock kept going off, I kept hitting the snooze until around 7 a.m. Actually I woke before the clock and dozed off until it sounded. I can't sleep anymore. Before Jerry died, I could spend half a day in bed lazing around. I loved it. Now, it is as if I not going to be allowed to enjoy sleep and rest again.

I've had two cups of coffee since then and done pretty much what the day demands. I have no interest in life at the moment... truly. Those who know me know this is not normal.

Am I better today? You know, everyone says (and I've repeated it before), "It will get better." "You will get better." I get really tired of it. I suppose they are tired of my grief by now. Most people were by the sixth week. You can tell. People stop talking to you. They don't call. They don't send cards or letter. Does anyone do that anymore? Probably not so it doesn't really count. Oddly, even people who used to email me don't any more. So, I've been cleaning my contact list, my email list, and my Facebook. To be a bit dark, they are dead weights.

You do not get over this, folks. You learn to breath underwater or you drown. If people are uncomfortable with what they read here, that's good. I hope someone gets so uncomfortable that the next spouse you run into or the next parent or next sibling you meet who has lost someone in death you will reach out and wrap them in your arms and tell them how very much you care and want to be there for them. And I hope you will mean it in six months, a year, or two years. If you can't do that, then walk away and never, ever speak to them again. They don't need you giving them anymore grief.

As a point, name the people you know that have lost a spouse or child to death. Now, at which point did you begin to think, I mean really think they should be better? How many of you made statement like these: "I just don't see why she's still carrying on this way." "He needs to move on." "She really needs to get over it." "Her husband died a year ago and she still gets upset? What a drama queen!" "He has other children...." "She can get married again...." "How long are they going to grieve?"

My bet is that those thoughts or similar ones, even if not put into words, have passed through everyone's mind after six months. I don't care how kind, considerate, compassionate you are, you've thought those kinds of things about someone you know who has suffered a loss by death. You were wrong.

I told a friend last night that I am cursed with an over abundance of conscience. I also have a memory that won't turn lose of trauma. I relive events years after they have happened. I had a traumatic childhood and so I suspect that turned on a switch that can't be turned off. I am predisposed to bouts of severe depression as a result of trauma. The last day of my husbands life are engraved in living color on my memory, right down to the smile he gave me as he shoveled the snow that probably killed him. Watching my husband die in my bed is not going away. My failures that led to that are not going away. All of it is in perpetual rerun. I'm not going to get over it. Those who think this way need to get over it.

I believe I've reached the anger phase everyone always talks about. I'm angry. Angry at God for the injustice I perceive this to be. Yea, yea, yea, I know he's God and we can't call him unjust. Actually, he will probably be less annoyed at me than you are. I don't know that he doesn't think the same thing about Jerry's death. I was unjust in so many ways. So many things I could have done differently had I not been so self absorbed and selfish and miserable with the way life had turned for us. It was ALL about ME. I forgot Jerry in the end and what he was going through. He'd been sick so long that I just got used to it and failed to notice the serious changes that were occurring.

We forgot each other. We sort of lived in the same house. Our work hours were not the same anymore and we seldom got to be together as a couple anymore, just talking and going places together. Our children were constantly after us for something. The "I need" syndrome. We loved doing things for them but financially, they were breaking us. After all these months finding receipts he stashed and remembering events, I realized he was giving a whole paycheck away every month "for the kids" "for Sarah". My God, he shouldn't even have BEEN working! How selfish we all were! We pushed him to work and he worked himself to death. In the last seven months I have realized that had we shut off the money anything but OUR living expenses he would not have had to work for the last two years! We could have managed on my income and his pension.

No, no, no, no! I could not have saved him from heart failure. I'm not God. I do realize my limitations. But I am a realist. His life could have been prolonged had I paid attention. His life could have been happier and more meaningful had I paid attention. I could have had good memories of our last days together! I DID NOT pay attention.

Do not patronize me by saying I couldn't know. I know MY failure. I know what I did, did not do, ignored, over looked, and simply remained blind to. And it is MY nature to admit when I failed. It is MY nature to regret being an ass. It is MY nature to wish, fervently, with every shred of my being that I could roll back the clock two years and start over at that point knowing what I know so that I can be a better person. It is MY nature to feel remorse and guilt and sorry for my behavior. I did not, do not want to be that selfish. And it is far to late.

Thank God for a conscience.

I'm angry at people who have done the same to me. They've looked the other way because they are uncomfortable, don't know what to say, don't know how to act, or the just did not give a damn to start with and were only pretending because it was their duty. You need to get over it. Life was not designed for your comfort. You weren't put here to make YOU feel better. I'm not the last person you will meet like this.

So, yes, I am at the anger phase.

In the first days of this I had so many people who helped with the funeral and feeding my huge family and for that I am truly grateful. But in six weeks, every person I spoke with disappeared. I've had superficial conversations when we "bump" into one another, you know the ones, "Hi. How are you. Good to see you." That's it. I've sat in my home for seven months and of all the people I know here, three have called my house three times. I see no one and I hear from no one... unless I go to church where I get that lovely little greeting. My blood relatives call daily and weekly.

Alice and I talk via chat frequently. Her sister died almost two years ago. My co-worker, one of the best friends I've ever had, has lunch with me EVERY DAY unless we have other obligations that prevent it. Her son died in September. These two women and I understand each other. We know you need, desperately need, human contact and companionship at this point more than you need food.

Do you know the salvation the internet has been? That's crazy! I have been blessed by the people who have reached out without regard to their own comfort level.

Does anyone know that some nights I sit and read my blogs comments and cry because someone, someone actually said something that made me think they cared what I was living in, someone wanted to make it better? They can't but they extend that hand. Maybe 100 words but certainly more than a front door greeting. It doesn't take much to be human.

No one knows who sent me the books in the mail on grief that have been so very helpful. I don't even know but I know they came from someone I've never met on my Multiply contact list who knew that was the only way they could help me. And honestly, they have.

My blog started years ago as a fun, carefree way to explore my writing and get acquainted with interesting people. It has more than met that expectation. I love the people I've met on my Multiply blog. But with Jerry's death, it has also become a vehicle to expose this reality I am living for the hell it is and that most people never realize it is. That I never realized it could be. It is a vehicle to put on "paper" what I can't put into words.

If I said these things to some people, they'd be pretty annoyed. Some who read this will be offended. It is unfortunate if someone is made uncomfortable by this. You will just have to get over it.

Maybe you'll be better by morning. But if you aren't, well, I guess it isn't MY problem.

Yes, I'd have to say I'm at the anger phase.

Was Ever a Day So Welcome

Friday at last. I'm so glad. My headache is more or less gone and the pain in my neck abated with that. It still hurts but within managable range. Guess we know another factor in that saga. However, I found that I had not taken my bp medicine for a couple of days. I had the scripts refilled early in the week but forgot to put them in my pill minder with the rest of the meds. So, my headache was probably a couple of things. I didn't realize it until yesterday.

Last night was really not good at all. I did manage to sleep ok. I dreamed of a dark haired man that I didn't recognize but he lay next to me on the bed and put his arms around me. I don't remember anything else. And now, after remembering it, I can't write anything more.

Nearing Nadir

The weekend is a day closer. I have had a terrible headache all day. I forgot to take an allergy pill but did after I got to work. I did my exercises, too.

I discovered have to stop taking the St. John's Wort, at least for a bit. My hair loss has escalated to worrisome proportions for me. I'm losing it at an rate that I feel is not normal. I see my doctor in a couple of weeks and will bring this up. But, I did research again on SJW and found hair loss is a side effect. I do not remember this being a problem when I took it over 10 years ago and I took it for several years! But I also was not taking other medications that also can cause hair loss. My BP medicines can cause this and I suspect it is possible that combinations may cause the problem to be worse. So, for now I'm taking it in the a.m. and will reduce that in a week or so.

I had to stop after that paragraph at work today because I got busy and the headache was just awful. When I came home I took an Imitrex. Only in the last 30 minutes have I felt any relief from that.

Tonight I am very bad. I can't watch movies very often anymore because I can't predict what will set off the flashbacks. No, they have not stopped. I'm just avoiding things that cause them. I happen to run across a Tommy Lee Jones movie. I have always loved to watch him in anything. He was dressed in a military dress green like they wore when we were in Germany. His build and coloring were so much like Jerry when he was in service that I simply imploded. I turned off the t.v. but the damage was done. Practically had to crawl up the hallway to the bed but then couldn't stay there and tried to walk the hallway. Couldn't walk either. Found myself more or less screaming in an empty house. I probably am fortunate that I live on a dead end street with old people. No one will hear me.

I can't do this. I simply can't do it. This is so horrendous and so unfair. I wish I had words to convey the impact of living a nightmare. I can't wake up! Sometimes I catch myself clenching my fist. Other times I find myself holding my breath, so much so that one day I nearly fainted before I realized it. I stopped but I started to notice that during the worst moments I can't breath. Maybe that's poetic justice.

It was not supposed to be this way. We were going to get old together. Life was going to get better now. We had hope for the new year, the first hope in so long, that things would be better this year. We were making plans. He wanted to know if he'd done the right things. I told him he had and we were going to start doing things for us.

I made him shovel the snow that morning. Even though I knew I'd never get out of that drive I had to try. And I couldn't do it. I knew I couldn't do it. I made him do it instead. He would never say no. Never say I'm sick. When he didn't finish it I fussed at him about it. He said he'd do it later but he never did. He got worse as the day wore on but the house was full and I was busy with them. I never saw it.

I should have been taking care of him. All I did was complain about everything. I never looked beyond me. I was hurting all the time and that is all I saw. I watched him die and never lifted a hand, never saw him suffering, never realized that he was dying minute by minute right in front of me. In FRONT OF ME!

It all was my fault. How do you live with that? How do you get up, walk through a day and go to sleep with that pounding you over the head, stabbing you in the chest, punching you in the stomach? You can pull the covers over your head for a while but not forever.

I don't know. I don't know. I am just tired, really, really tired. I want to break the clocks, all of them. I hate watching them move forward. I hate the alarm more than I've ever hated any single thing.

I don't know how to salvage what is left. Maybe because there is nothing left. I don't leave this room except to eat, sleep and go to work. I don't want to go anywhere. I have no contact outside except my children and people I see at work. And I don't care anymore. It just doesn't really matter that much.

Saturday will be seven months. There isn't really light at the end of the tunnel. It is just more tunnel, a grave with the ends knocked out and a road laid for gawkers.

Emptiness

We all know when something is empty. It is without contents. Take an empty glass. It is a glass filled with nothing. But that isn't true really. The glass is filled, just not with something you can see or touch. It is filled with a gas. Air. So, in truth the empty glass isn't empty, and in fact, it is never in an empty state at all.

I suppose this would be true of all empty things. They say space is not empty, even though there is no air in space. There is lots of other stuff in space, some visible and some invisible. Science says that nature abhors a vacuum. So even nature doesn't acknowledge the existence of emptiness. It will rush to fill the emptiness, crushing the container if necessary, to fill the void. Everything is filled with something, even when you can't see it.

I am always gratified when spiritual concepts are confirmed with science.

In the center of my chest is a spot that you could fit both fists and still not fill it. Nothing is there but this great emptiness. The things that were there have been torn out, leaving ragged edges that scream in pain when something comes in contact. The walls have sealed off to protect and maintain the integrity of the structure. Still, it is a void, dark and hollow surrounded by a container attempting to maintain its form beneath the pressures of existence.

But science says this is impossible. I suppose in once sense it is filled. It is filled with the most terrible pain. Still, this is no protection from a vacuum. Breathing in a vacuum is impossible. Lungs collapse and blood will boil. Your body will explode as nature attempts to reinstate balance.

Unfortunately, when you are missing some of the parts of the structure, there is no way to maintain the integrity of the structure. It will collapse. It will be crushed. Nature. . . and I abhor a vacuum.