Yes, you read that right. I know, I'm usually not given to freaking out. And I'm definitely not given to public acknowledgement of freaking out. But there you have it. Why this behavior you ask? Because Friday is the day. The day of my knee surgery. Um. Yeah. I do know that it's supposed to be a very simple surgery. Yes. I do know that the incisions are tiny and require only one stitch. Sure I know that I should be completely healed up in a week. So why am I freaking out? Because last summer they gave me the same song and dance and I ended up with a 4 inch gash and major recovery, oh yeah and then it go infected and then I found out they nicked an artery while they were in there. So pardon my freak out, but me and surgery are not on good terms.
I visited Mike's aunt yesterday and we got to have a long chat. We have very much the same personalities and outlook. Having been through what she's going through just last year, we were able to really connect. I zeroed in on her exact fears because they were the same ones I had harbored. I think our talk helped some. And I know the trashy magazines, travel bottles of soap and shampoos, and Lindor Truffles I took her helped. A girl has got to have her stuff. Fortunately, so far they haven't found anything that specifically points to cancer. Now it's a waiting game til surgery when they can remove the cyst and biopsy it.
Lu and I both have doctor appointments today. Mine to discuss some hopefully minor stuff and hers with her hematologist to check her blood counts. Positive thoughts that they are good please. Then she sees the surgeon on Thursday and she's hoping to get released for work.
After the doctors visits we will be going to the visitation for my friend's husband. I'm wearing tons of waterproof mascara.
Sean started his full time job today. I think I was ten times more nervous than he. I packed him a lunch. I can't wait to hear how it goes.
And Mike and I had this conversation this morning~
Me: (knocking on his office door and entering) Um. So I wanted to give you the bad news in person since I'm such a supportive wife and all.
Mike: (turning to me expecting a money issue I'm sure) What?
Me: I'm really sorry, but Bob from "Bob and Tom" died.
Mike: Um. Ok.
Me: He was in a car accident in Arizona.
Mike: Um. Huh.
Me: I thought you loved that show?!
Mike: Well I don't get to listen to it very often.
Me: Whatever. That's the last time I break things to you gently. Next time you get a Post It note.
And today I received an email from one of my Kindle readers. How cool is that?! I always wonder about them. You know, who they are and how they found my blog, ect. So thank you Donna from Texas for the blog love! It was great to hear from you.
Happy Tuesday,
♥Spot
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
The one where I look for the silver lining but can't find it...
So on the whole, I'm really not a big fan of this year so far. And this weekend? Well, it's been a triple slam dunk of bad news. Friday a woman I call friend lost her husband. I'm still unsure of the details, a mutual friend of ours was trying to get things pieced together. But the details don't really matter. Her husband is gone. He was a vibrant fun-loving guy and the few times I actually spent with him were great. He had "lived" if you know what I mean and had great stories to tell. And together they were a fabulous couple. They were very close. He had retired a few years back, and she'd cut her hours back, both kids were out of college and settled. And they had a few grand kids. It was definitely their "golden years", but now he's gone. Suddenly. And my heart aches for her.
Next, a man we call friend and who's very close to my husband was diagnosed with prostrate cancer. Now prostrate cancer does have a 93% survival rate so his odds are good. Of course, they won't know for sure until they do the surgery. He too is a healthy active retiree enjoying his golden years with his wife. Again, they're one of those awesome couples who enhance each others personalities. Fingers crossed for him.
And the last blow...my husband's aunt may have ovarian cancer. She went to the ER Friday with intense pain and they admitted her. Her obgyn called in an oncologist (who just happens to be Lu's doctor so at least she's in good hands). There is a cyst the size of a tennis ball on her ovary. They're sending her to a larger hospital in a bigger city to do the surgery and biopsy. Of course, we won't really know anything til then. She's an amazing woman. For any of you who think I'm an inspiration, let me tell you, she wrote the book. She has a son with Downs that she's never stopped working with. Another son was paralyzed in a car accident and she quit her job to become his full time aide and activist. She is the one that everyone leans on when they need a shoulder.
So in conclusion, bad shit happens to good people. All. The. Damn. Time. And life is seldom fair. So you better count your blessings while you have them and don't let a day go by that you don't find something to appreciate about your life or the day that you were given. Because every day is a gift. And don't put off the little rewards you owe yourself. Don't spend your time thinking about doing something in the future. Do it now. Live in the day. You don't know how many days you have left.
Sorry for the seriousness, but it's been that kind of weekend (year).
♥Spot
Next, a man we call friend and who's very close to my husband was diagnosed with prostrate cancer. Now prostrate cancer does have a 93% survival rate so his odds are good. Of course, they won't know for sure until they do the surgery. He too is a healthy active retiree enjoying his golden years with his wife. Again, they're one of those awesome couples who enhance each others personalities. Fingers crossed for him.
And the last blow...my husband's aunt may have ovarian cancer. She went to the ER Friday with intense pain and they admitted her. Her obgyn called in an oncologist (who just happens to be Lu's doctor so at least she's in good hands). There is a cyst the size of a tennis ball on her ovary. They're sending her to a larger hospital in a bigger city to do the surgery and biopsy. Of course, we won't really know anything til then. She's an amazing woman. For any of you who think I'm an inspiration, let me tell you, she wrote the book. She has a son with Downs that she's never stopped working with. Another son was paralyzed in a car accident and she quit her job to become his full time aide and activist. She is the one that everyone leans on when they need a shoulder.
So in conclusion, bad shit happens to good people. All. The. Damn. Time. And life is seldom fair. So you better count your blessings while you have them and don't let a day go by that you don't find something to appreciate about your life or the day that you were given. Because every day is a gift. And don't put off the little rewards you owe yourself. Don't spend your time thinking about doing something in the future. Do it now. Live in the day. You don't know how many days you have left.
Sorry for the seriousness, but it's been that kind of weekend (year).
♥Spot
Saturday, April 10, 2010
I'm back...sort of...
I'm back. Back to blogland. Back to the Internet. Back to work. Back to life. And yet, some days I'm still feeling like a sleepwalker. Someone who's observing, but not really participating. I think grief does that to you. It creates an insulating wall between you and the rest of the world. I guess that's why they say "numb with grief". It's not all the time, just in those quiet moments when I'm left alone and my mind invariably turns to thoughts of my grandma. Not the way she was near the end, but the way she was in my childhood, early adult years, and until about a year ago. She was feisty. I think that's the one word that sums her up. Others would of course be devoted, determined, and vibrant. Grandma was a feminist, long before feminism was popular. She'd had a hard life, but she was determined to make the best of it. Life gave her lemons, but by God she made some damn fine lemonade. She was a woman to admire and emulate. She was my hero. Way back in fifth grade we had to write a paper about our hero and mine was about grandma.
She was born in 1923 to a Scottish immigrant named Harold Macready and the daughter of German immigrants, Helen Charlotte Schaefer. A year later her mother died in childbirth and Harold had to leave baby Helen (named for her mother) with his wife's parents, August and Minnie Schaefer. They were farmers and were also raising her uncles. When Harold remarried, he came back for her, but August and Minnie refused to give her up. They legally adopted her. I don't know that she ever had much of a relationship with her father after that, but she did have several half sisters that she knew and spent some time with.
She grew up poor and used to hard work. She didn't have many playmates on the farm but she was close to her uncles and grandparents. She dropped out of school after 8th grade. In 1946 she was working for her aunt and uncle who owned a tavern when she met Clyde Graham. They began seeing each other and soon she realized she was pregnant. In 1946 there were few options for unwed mothers; illegal back alley abortions, having the child and being ostracized by everyone, or marrying the father. She ended up marrying even though she didn't want to. Clyde was an abusive alcoholic, who often drank most of his paycheck. They went on to have 7 live births, 1 stillbirth, and one miscarriage that necessitated an emergency hysterectomy. My grandma used to say she got pregnant every time my grandpa laid his pants across the bed. She raised four sons and three daughters on very little money but with a strict sense of right and wrong. She was very short at only 4'11", but she had a fiery temper when crossed.
My grandmother put up with my grandfather's abuse, alcoholism and affairs until her last son was in high school. Then she finally sought a divorce. I was 7 at the time. She got royally shafted in the divorce proceedings, but she didn't care, she just wanted out. After the divorce, she worked hard to get her GED and worked outside the home until she was no longer able to due to health reasons. She rode the bus, never having learned to drive. I offered to teach her once, but she declined, saying she'd made it this far in life without it, she figured she'd make it the rest of the time. She was not a bitter woman, though she had reason to be. She was always full of laughter and she loved a good prank, which is good, because my uncles were serious mischief makers! Often using masks and sneaky techniques to scare the crap out the grandchildren. She stayed close to my grandpa's parents even after the divorce. And shared our grief when great grandma passed and a year later great grandpa followed. She also grieved for my uncle's wife and then my uncle when he passed. We also lost my cousin and his wife several years ago to a car crash. But through it all, Grandma persevered. She was the heart of our family. She kept us coming together for Sunday dinners and holidays, until she was no longer physically able. She was my friend and confidante and I could always count on her for good advice.
When CJ was small and I was pregnant with Lu, if I got lonely, I could always find willing company at grandma's house. She was always proud of me, even when there was no reason to be. She encouraged me and supported me, and often took my side in disputes with my parents. My earliest memories are of grandma's house and grandma's lap. She took care of me when I was only tiny so my parents could both work. My mother says I used to cry when she came to pick me up because I didn't want to leave grandma's. I know I always cried when we would have to leave after visits, later when we'd moved. The four years I spent in England, I missed my Grandma terribly. But she was an amazing pen pal. She wrote me long detailed letters on beautiful stationary that somehow always smelled like her perfume. I lived with her for a year, my freshman year of college. I'm so grateful now to have had that time and those memories. Though looking back, I would spend even more time with her.
I know that I got my fiery temper from her, as well as my optimism. Grandma knew how to find the silver lining. She taught me how to grocery shop on a tight budget. She taught me to go after what I want with determination. It is from her I get my love of animals, she almost always had a canine companion. She taught me that hard work, sacrifice and determination pay off. She taught me that love is unconditional. And regardless of how hard life was, her hugs were sure to make it bearable. And her absence is like a huge gaping hole.
However, I will go on, with the lessons she taught me fresh in my mind. Because, if there is an afterlife, and Grandma had a firm faith that there was, I know that she is still watching and I want to make her proud.
♥Spot
She was born in 1923 to a Scottish immigrant named Harold Macready and the daughter of German immigrants, Helen Charlotte Schaefer. A year later her mother died in childbirth and Harold had to leave baby Helen (named for her mother) with his wife's parents, August and Minnie Schaefer. They were farmers and were also raising her uncles. When Harold remarried, he came back for her, but August and Minnie refused to give her up. They legally adopted her. I don't know that she ever had much of a relationship with her father after that, but she did have several half sisters that she knew and spent some time with.
She grew up poor and used to hard work. She didn't have many playmates on the farm but she was close to her uncles and grandparents. She dropped out of school after 8th grade. In 1946 she was working for her aunt and uncle who owned a tavern when she met Clyde Graham. They began seeing each other and soon she realized she was pregnant. In 1946 there were few options for unwed mothers; illegal back alley abortions, having the child and being ostracized by everyone, or marrying the father. She ended up marrying even though she didn't want to. Clyde was an abusive alcoholic, who often drank most of his paycheck. They went on to have 7 live births, 1 stillbirth, and one miscarriage that necessitated an emergency hysterectomy. My grandma used to say she got pregnant every time my grandpa laid his pants across the bed. She raised four sons and three daughters on very little money but with a strict sense of right and wrong. She was very short at only 4'11", but she had a fiery temper when crossed.
My grandmother put up with my grandfather's abuse, alcoholism and affairs until her last son was in high school. Then she finally sought a divorce. I was 7 at the time. She got royally shafted in the divorce proceedings, but she didn't care, she just wanted out. After the divorce, she worked hard to get her GED and worked outside the home until she was no longer able to due to health reasons. She rode the bus, never having learned to drive. I offered to teach her once, but she declined, saying she'd made it this far in life without it, she figured she'd make it the rest of the time. She was not a bitter woman, though she had reason to be. She was always full of laughter and she loved a good prank, which is good, because my uncles were serious mischief makers! Often using masks and sneaky techniques to scare the crap out the grandchildren. She stayed close to my grandpa's parents even after the divorce. And shared our grief when great grandma passed and a year later great grandpa followed. She also grieved for my uncle's wife and then my uncle when he passed. We also lost my cousin and his wife several years ago to a car crash. But through it all, Grandma persevered. She was the heart of our family. She kept us coming together for Sunday dinners and holidays, until she was no longer physically able. She was my friend and confidante and I could always count on her for good advice.
When CJ was small and I was pregnant with Lu, if I got lonely, I could always find willing company at grandma's house. She was always proud of me, even when there was no reason to be. She encouraged me and supported me, and often took my side in disputes with my parents. My earliest memories are of grandma's house and grandma's lap. She took care of me when I was only tiny so my parents could both work. My mother says I used to cry when she came to pick me up because I didn't want to leave grandma's. I know I always cried when we would have to leave after visits, later when we'd moved. The four years I spent in England, I missed my Grandma terribly. But she was an amazing pen pal. She wrote me long detailed letters on beautiful stationary that somehow always smelled like her perfume. I lived with her for a year, my freshman year of college. I'm so grateful now to have had that time and those memories. Though looking back, I would spend even more time with her.
I know that I got my fiery temper from her, as well as my optimism. Grandma knew how to find the silver lining. She taught me how to grocery shop on a tight budget. She taught me to go after what I want with determination. It is from her I get my love of animals, she almost always had a canine companion. She taught me that hard work, sacrifice and determination pay off. She taught me that love is unconditional. And regardless of how hard life was, her hugs were sure to make it bearable. And her absence is like a huge gaping hole.
However, I will go on, with the lessons she taught me fresh in my mind. Because, if there is an afterlife, and Grandma had a firm faith that there was, I know that she is still watching and I want to make her proud.
♥Spot
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Memories and Tears...
I want to thank everyone for their comments and warm wishes on the last blog. They meant the world to me. I haven't been home much. I've been either at the nursing home, or a hotel in town, or with my family. I can't blog or read blogs on my current phone, but I can check email. I got your comments in email when I had a chance and they made me smile.
We had a good day Saturday. My parents were able to get some rest, Hildi and her family were here. We grilled and I made homemade potato salad and mac & cheese. Lu & Luke dyed Easter eggs with Hildi's girls and helped them make Easter bags. When they were in bed, we all sat around talking, raiding the Easter candy, filling their loot bags and hiding the eggs. Easter morning was fun. Then we had a lovely brunch. Lu, Luke & Sean kept the girls so the rest of us could go to the nursing home. My grandmother was much worse. They were having to give morphine every two hours so she was never really awake. Hildi & her husband drove 4 hours round trip to see to my parents cats and gather more things. My cousin and I spent hours holding grandma's hands and talking about memories. I got some private time to tell my grandmother how much I'd miss her and how much she's meant to me. But that if she needed to go, she should go. That when the light called to her, to follow it home. She didn't need to suffer anymore. I'll never know if she heard me, but I hope she did. Lu, Luke & Sean brought Hildi's girls in to the hotel. I told them to say their goodbyes, because I didn't think she'd make it through the night. Sean and I stayed at a hotel in town that night. My grandmother passed at 3 am. My parents were with her.
Monday, my father, Hildi & I packed up my gran's belongings from the home. We all accompanied my mother to the funeral home to help the family settle arrangements. We went with my parents to order flowers and then we took them to the hotel. Hildi's hubby had taken the girls back to my house that morning and we joined them around supper time. Today has been the first day I've rested. The next two days, visitation and funeral, will be hard. Hopefully on Friday, I'll feel like posting. Thank you for keeping my family and I in your thoughts and prayers. It means alot to me.
♥Spot
RIP Helen Schaefer Graham
January 10, 1923- April 5, 2010
We had a good day Saturday. My parents were able to get some rest, Hildi and her family were here. We grilled and I made homemade potato salad and mac & cheese. Lu & Luke dyed Easter eggs with Hildi's girls and helped them make Easter bags. When they were in bed, we all sat around talking, raiding the Easter candy, filling their loot bags and hiding the eggs. Easter morning was fun. Then we had a lovely brunch. Lu, Luke & Sean kept the girls so the rest of us could go to the nursing home. My grandmother was much worse. They were having to give morphine every two hours so she was never really awake. Hildi & her husband drove 4 hours round trip to see to my parents cats and gather more things. My cousin and I spent hours holding grandma's hands and talking about memories. I got some private time to tell my grandmother how much I'd miss her and how much she's meant to me. But that if she needed to go, she should go. That when the light called to her, to follow it home. She didn't need to suffer anymore. I'll never know if she heard me, but I hope she did. Lu, Luke & Sean brought Hildi's girls in to the hotel. I told them to say their goodbyes, because I didn't think she'd make it through the night. Sean and I stayed at a hotel in town that night. My grandmother passed at 3 am. My parents were with her.
Monday, my father, Hildi & I packed up my gran's belongings from the home. We all accompanied my mother to the funeral home to help the family settle arrangements. We went with my parents to order flowers and then we took them to the hotel. Hildi's hubby had taken the girls back to my house that morning and we joined them around supper time. Today has been the first day I've rested. The next two days, visitation and funeral, will be hard. Hopefully on Friday, I'll feel like posting. Thank you for keeping my family and I in your thoughts and prayers. It means alot to me.
♥Spot
RIP Helen Schaefer Graham
January 10, 1923- April 5, 2010
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Honey, whatever you do, don't get old...
Why do old people say this? Really? My grandpa used to say this all the time. And I always think what's the alternative? Death? Hmmm...I think I'm going to go with the getting old. Because no matter how bad it sucks it's got to be better then dying. Or sometimes, I just want to shout "WHAT??! I had the choice to stay young and not age?? WTF? Why didn't I get the memo?! Did you get the memo. Flip! Did anyone get the memo?!" Or really, if getting old sucks that badly, that death is preferable, can you tell me what age it started sucking at? You know, so I can plan my demise. I mean like was it 50? 65? 39? Wait...I am 39! No! I don't want to die! I want to get old!!! If only so I can say "don't get old" to my kids and grandkids and totally confuse them too.
Of course, as we were reminiscing today, this is the same man who used to order a BLT but he didn't want any L and could he have the T on the side? So basically he wanted a bacon sandwich with sliced tomato on the side. But he never said it that way.
And every time we went to Village Inn, he'd lean over and ask my dad if they had Bud Light there. And every time my dad would explain that they didn't serve alcohol at Village Inn. Mostly because pancakes and beer would be totally gross, I'm sure.
And one time we went to this really fancy restaurant and grandpa broke the toilet in the men's room and water started leaking out onto the carpet in the hall and my dad made us hurry up and leave. And as he was paying the bill, the bartender was totally bitching about how it was a Sunday and they had to call the plumber and pay him double time and the carpet would probably be ruined, while we all stood around trying to look innocent and I had my hand over Sean's mouth because he was 4 and couldn't be trusted not to blurt out that it was grandpa. I don't know how innocent you can look when you have your hand over a kids mouth but I tried.
And how he could make the best gravy ever, even though he was shitfaced and paying no attention to it. The man was talented that way.
And how he called me his angel, even though my husband says I'm nobody's idea of an angel and he's pretty sure that angels do not run to the gas station to buy beer and cigarettes for old people. Even though they're in a wheelchair. But I did.
And how the doctors told him he had 5 different kinds of cancer and 6 months to live and he refused treatment, told everyone the doctors were wrong and he didn't have cancer, took a Bayer aspirin everyday, ate bacon and tomato sandwiches every morning, drank like a fish, smoked like a chimney and lived another 3 years. And in the end, it wasn't even the cancer that killed him.
He used to frustrate me to no end, act like an ass every time I took him to the doctor, and drunk dial me at least once a day but I miss his crazy ass anyway. So cheers grandpa. Wherever you ended up, I hope to hell they serve bud light and bacon sandwiches.
♥Spot
Of course, as we were reminiscing today, this is the same man who used to order a BLT but he didn't want any L and could he have the T on the side? So basically he wanted a bacon sandwich with sliced tomato on the side. But he never said it that way.
And every time we went to Village Inn, he'd lean over and ask my dad if they had Bud Light there. And every time my dad would explain that they didn't serve alcohol at Village Inn. Mostly because pancakes and beer would be totally gross, I'm sure.
And one time we went to this really fancy restaurant and grandpa broke the toilet in the men's room and water started leaking out onto the carpet in the hall and my dad made us hurry up and leave. And as he was paying the bill, the bartender was totally bitching about how it was a Sunday and they had to call the plumber and pay him double time and the carpet would probably be ruined, while we all stood around trying to look innocent and I had my hand over Sean's mouth because he was 4 and couldn't be trusted not to blurt out that it was grandpa. I don't know how innocent you can look when you have your hand over a kids mouth but I tried.
And how he could make the best gravy ever, even though he was shitfaced and paying no attention to it. The man was talented that way.
And how he called me his angel, even though my husband says I'm nobody's idea of an angel and he's pretty sure that angels do not run to the gas station to buy beer and cigarettes for old people. Even though they're in a wheelchair. But I did.
And how the doctors told him he had 5 different kinds of cancer and 6 months to live and he refused treatment, told everyone the doctors were wrong and he didn't have cancer, took a Bayer aspirin everyday, ate bacon and tomato sandwiches every morning, drank like a fish, smoked like a chimney and lived another 3 years. And in the end, it wasn't even the cancer that killed him.
He used to frustrate me to no end, act like an ass every time I took him to the doctor, and drunk dial me at least once a day but I miss his crazy ass anyway. So cheers grandpa. Wherever you ended up, I hope to hell they serve bud light and bacon sandwiches.
♥Spot
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