Ten Moments That Changed My Life...

So far...and yes, I totally stole the title.

1. My child was born.

Every parent's going to say that, right? 

Because it's true. There's a clear before and after line in my life - the moment Chelsea was born, and I looked at the beautiful screaming baby in my arms, and said, "Hi." (Profound, wasn't I?)

2. I received the gift of life.

I had been checked into the hospital for emergency surgery, but they couldn't do the surgery until I received blood. 

I was so sick. I remember looking at that blood coming into me and feeling so grateful to whomever had taken time out of their busy life to donate. 

I've donated blood before; but it's a completely different thing to receive it. It's  life, and it's a gift. 

3. I entered the psychiatric hospital (aka The Place).

It was a humbling thing, admitting I needed help. After that, the hits kept coming. A physical, endless interviews, and I had to give up my distractions - no cellphone, e-reader or laptop while I was in there. 

My first days were spent staring at walls, and I wasn't alone. Other 'psych' patients were with me, along with alcoholics and drug addicts. We all stared at the walls, and slept a lot. 

This was my first step in facing my depression instead of hiding from it; in realizing that help was available; in realizing that I wasn't alone. 

4. I got laid off from Ford.

The Ford Experience Of 1998 changed the course of my life. I think. When I got hired there, I was prepared to work the most mind-numbingly boring assembly line job for the rest of my life. 

I was laid off within five weeks; devastated, but secretly relieved. I got hired back at my old company, but in a much better job. I also went back to school and finished my degree two years later, and got my current job a year after that. 

You just never know what's a blessing in disguise. 

5. 9/11/01

Not all changes are good. 

The events on 9/11 didn't affect me directly. But the way I think and act every day are affected by it. I don't ever see myself on a plane again. I can't ever go to work in the morning without thinking about what other workers in other high rise buildings were doing that Tuesday. 

Clear blue skies are the worst. 

6. Dwayne finally asked me out.

Enough said. (Okay, well, read further entries down for reference.)

7. Cancer found its way into the family.

My grandmother was the center of our family, and she molded me into who I am today. The day I found out she had ovarian cancer was the worst day of my life. 

That was 2009. She died in 2011, then my grandpa got brain cancer, and my brother got leukemia. My grandpa died July before last; my brother has just achieved remission. But I still feel like I'm in 2009 - cancer? What?

8. I got a kittycat.

The most rewarding thing I ever did was adopt a kitten. I didn't know at the time that she was a Maine Coon mix and that she would grow to gargantuan proportions! I just knew she was small and fluffy and adorable. 

Now she's nine years old, 18.5 lbs, still fluffy and I love her so much! 

There's nothing like having a pet to remind you to love all animals, and to support shelters, sanctuaries and the ASPCA. 

9. I lost my job.

I'm still in the midst of this one. I'd worked for the same company for nineteen years, and then it was all gone.

I have a new job now, but I'll never get over the loss, and the feeling that I let somebody down.

10. I had to go back to the The Place.

The second time around, I thought I knew what to expect. More of the same, digging into my brain, experiencing lots of shame... 

On my first day back, though, I found I wasn't the only repeater. There were other people there, who had been there with me the first time three years before.

I realized then that there's no shame in admitting I needed help, AGAIN. It changed the way I viewed my disease. There should be no shame in it, because that prevents you reaching out and grabbing a lifeline.

I learned that I can fight and struggle and maybe fall down but I can and will always get back up.

:)

I'm bleeding out...

I'm sitting in the living room of my new apartment with my darling daughter...we're both on our computers and watching an awesome comedian named Gabriel Iglesias on TV, and laughing hysterically.

The fact that we're in our living room and watching TV is something I still can't quite get over. For over a year, Chelsea and I hadn't been able to relax in our living room and hang out together, and this is just. so. nice!

I love our new place. It's full of natural light, and the hardwood floors are so shiny and beautiful, and it has such possibilities. It's true, it needs a lot of work, but I don't care. The feeling of freedom I have here is priceless.

We're on the second floor again, but with a huge difference. Just to get up to our building we have to walk up a gauntlet of steps on a very steep hill; by the time I get to the actual steps to get up to my apartment, I have to stop and take a breather. When I'm carrying groceries or something, forget it - I start seeing black spots before my eyes on the last flight of stairs, it's pretty funny.

This is the type of place where everyone knows everyone else and hangs with each other. It makes me a little uncomfortable, actually, because I'm not the social type. I've already told Chelsea she will have to do all the socializing for us.

So...I think the current school of thought on me is, um, crazy, flaky, scattered, suggestible and absent. That's just the impression I have, anyway.

I think it's because I moved, and so quickly. People aren't used to me doing anything, much less in a hurry. I'm definitely more of a turtle type. I've only made a few major decisions in my life:

1. I had a daughter.
2. I decided NOT to work in a factory.
3. I graduated from college with a degree in Philosophy.
4. I moved.
5. I moved again.

That's all I can think of.

But anyway, this is what I come up with when people ask why I moved:

To co-workers: I had to move because my floor-sleeper wouldn't leave.
To family: Um...because...it's closer to work?

Neither of these seem to be an acceptable answer to people. I wonder why?

.......................................................................

It's 2 a.m., and I've relocated to my bedroom. I'm trying desperately to end this useless post, but my daughter followed me in here and is playing with my kitty. Chelsea isn't going to bed anytime soon, she came home from work at 9 p.m. and this is Happy Hour.

I am sooo old!

I'm not giving up, I'm just giving in

Chelsea helped me with my room yesterday. We're packing this week, among other things.

When I learned of my grandmother's cancer, back in 2009, that's kind of when things went south for me, and my room reflected that. 

We got through piles of books, DVDs, CDs, papers...the stuff on the bottom was stuff that I'd last seen 5 years ago. It was kind of like an archaeological study on depression symptom #2: not having the energy or the interest to take care of things.

I'm much better now. In the past year, especially, I've come a long way from the dark place that landed me in the hospital back then. I think I've finally hit the right combination of medicine, I have figured out coping mechanisms, I know my triggers...

But this month, I'm desperately wishing to be anywhere else. Isn't that awful? I want to drown my sorrows in something...check myself in the hospital...just lay under my covers and hide forever!

But I can't, because I'm stronger now. My brother has cancer and the pill he takes makes him sick and my grandfather had brain surgery again and he's in the hospital and I have to divide my time between packing up my life to move this week and visiting my grandpa in the hospital.

My grandfather also has cancer again, and this time they can't do anything with it. They're giving him six months to a year.

My mom and my aunt, wimps that they are, sent my brother to tell me the news. He was very no nonsense about it, much like he was when he told me that he himself had cancer.

I just want to cry.

Well okay, I have. But only in my room, late at night. 

I just can't even express how much I hate cancer.

I woke up late, guess I'm never really early...

Hello...

There is just not enough time.

I have twenty-five blog posts to read. Y'all are prolific this week.

I've been lazy. It's not ENTIRELY my fault. I somehow contracted a computer virus and my floor-sleeper has been fixing my computer for two days.

I don't know if I'm thankful or irritated.

We went out to eat with the family on Monday and my brother, after one week of treatment, is showing the effects. His color is terrible, he looks exhausted, his hair looks like it's falling out. He won't tell us, but my sister-in-law told us that he has been experiencing some of the severe side effects of the drug.

But now, the good news - his white blood cell count dropped from 79,000 to 39,000. In just one week. The drug is working.

More good news - my brother was as obnoxious as ever. I never thought I'd be happy about my brother being a big jerk, but I am. If he's arguing with me for an hour and a half across a crowded dinner table at Texas Roadhouse, that means he's feeling well enough to fight this thing.

That is all.

Oh wait.

One last thing...

Something made me think about this movie the other day, and this scene is one of my all-time movie favorites. If you haven't seen The Contender, I highly recommend it, and don't watch this [spoiler alert]! Otherwise, here's the awesome final scene:

Tonight's the night the world begins again...

There's so many scary things happening right now, and all I want to do is hide.

If I could just stay in bed and cuddle my kitty forever, I'd be content.

I guess I can't do that.

Treasure your family and make time to be with them. Appreciate your good health. If you can walk and run, do it! Drink in the beauty around you and listen to music...and if you are artistically talented, use your talents! Paint, draw, dance, sing and play the piano...the world needs it.

And I meant what I said about family! You blink and they're gone, or different, and all you have left is your memories. Cherish what you have, and make the most of it.

Family = everything.

When the darkness closes in...

I'm furious with my big brother.

I've documented in great detail here about how obnoxious and annoying my big brother is; how he's a terrible loser and an even worse winner, how we still pick at each other like we're 5 and 10 years old and no one can stand to be around us because we're so much alike; and how he's the best dad and big brother in the world.

He's a big jerk.

On Monday, he told me he had leukemia. Chronic Myelocytic Leukemia.

My stupid brother has stupid cancer.

I'm so, so mad at him.

I'm crying even as I type this. How dare he have this happen to him? We've always been Johnny and Michelle, and now he's going through something I can't help him with.

My typical brother:

John: I have leukemia.
Michelle: (crying)
John: Why are you crying? Other than the leukemia, I'm in perfect health!

And later:

John: (blah, blah, blah)
John:...And no matter what, do NOT ask me how I'm feeling, I'm already sick of it, I feel fine! I mean it! Don't ask me!!!

(sigh)

The prognosis is good. I just feel a little beat down, what with my grandma's cancer and then my things and then my grandpa's brain tumor and I don't wanna hear the prognosis is good I wanna hear that my brother is going to be perfect as good as new as obnoxious and annoying as ever.

I love my big brother. I'm not really mad at him...well, no more than usual. :)

Love y'all, goodnight. :)

Whatever's meant to be will work out perfectly...

So I went to Google looking for the Olympic thing:

But instead, I found this:

Google said Happy Birthday to me!

I know that Google is telling me Happy Birthday because I'm logged in somewhere or other...but it's a little, um, freaky... The machines are poised to take over. We are almost in the land of Terminator and The Matrix, I know it. The other day, I went to send an email at work, and my computer very helpfully told me I forgot to attach my spreadsheet.

They are alive.

So, for my birthday tonight we went out to eat, and my birthday party is on Sunday; tomorrow night Dwayne is making me dinner, because he's perfect and wonderful. He is in pretty bad shape now, and pretty confined to the wheelchair and in very low spirits. He is in constant pain, yet apologizing to me because he can't help. 

Doesn't he know he's my hero?

I have much to say, but not the will...my headache has been hanging on for a good long while this time around. At this point, who cares? Migraines are just a given...like the SNOW, and the COLD; and never going away!

Ahem.

Still celebrating my tenth anniversary of blogging, here's a birthday throwback...

Sunday, February 6, 2005:

Before I left for Germany, when I was ten years old, my family had an early birthday party for my brother and me…who knew when we would be home again? My grandmother decorated a huge cake, with one side of it with Smurfs (for me J ), and the other side of it with a UK wildcat (for my brother)…

We got lots and lots of presents that day. One of my presents was a tape recorder…one of those huge black and silver things… On that day, with my family all together for the last time in what would be years, I made all of them speak into the recorder and record a special message for me.

I took that tape with their special message with me to Germany, where I kept it for all three years I was there, and whenever I was desperately homesick for my family I would play it…

The message was simple: It was my mom, my brother, my grandma, my grandpa, my aunt, my great-aunt…everybody recorded the same thing… 

"I love you, Michelle…"
"I love you, Michelle…"
"I love you, Michelle…"

I no longer have the tape, but I can still hear it, in my head…

Today, my family had an early birthday party for me (my birthday is actually Monday)…They called me into the kitchen, and I walked in to the crowd of people, my mom, my grandparents, my brother and sister-in-law and nephew, my daughter, my aunts, my boyfriend…

I knelt down to blow out the candles on my cake…

And I realized that all the people that had left me the messages on my tape so long ago were still right here…

I nearly cried as I realized how blessed I was, that over twenty years later, I’m still a member of this wonderful, sometimes maddening, always loving family,

And they were able to tell me again, today, that they loved me…

Instead of a wish for something I didn’t have, this year, before blowing out the candles, I just thanked God…for everything.

I promise you there's hope...

Sometimes it seems like I'm wasting space. Well, a lot of the time it feels like that.

I promise I'm better, comparatively! It's just a habit, I think, along with feeling a little at odds in my environment. Now that I'm feeling a little healthier, I don't even know where to start.

:)

I asked Chelsea for ideas on how to celebrate my 10th anniversary of blogging and she was way too important and busy.

She used to be a proper minion who did all my work for me but now she has a job and thinks she's allowed to like, live her own life and stuff.

What's up with that? Children just think they can grow up and move on and OMG! - NOW I understand why my mom is always so mad if I don't talk to her on the weekends!

*Epiphany*

:)

Sooo...

Here is a look back ten years ago at one of Chelsea's and Mom's favorite posts:

Good Memories, Part 1

Wednesday, March 3, 2004

We spent Memorial Day at my grandparent's farm last summer.  My grandparent's farm - this is the place where I love to go for the peacefulness and the woods and the brilliant night sky.  I guess it's nice during the day, too, if it wasn't for the bugs and the heat and the sun and that since it's a family picnic you're not supposed to stay inside and read your book.

My daughter was doing softball at the time at the Y and I suggested we play baseball so she could get some practice.  My bossy brother heard me and insisted we play kickball instead.  I'm 31 and my brother is 36 and we still regress back to our childhood roles of him being bossy and me being sneaky.

He decided we were going to choose teams, that archaic schoolyard practice that still haunts me - I was always chosen last in elementary school.  But this time, my daughter was picking - she picked me first!  She also picked my 73-year old grandfather.  

This is the part that makes it my favorite memory.  I never knew anything until I saw my grandfather, who I love and admire and who I placed on a pedestal when I was five years old, playing this kickball game.  Determination.  Coaching - "Michelle, you need to run fast!".  Verve.  

And the best moment of all, Popa sprinting around third base and heading for home, with my bossy brother aiming for him, and so my 73-year old grandfather slides into home plate.  SAFE!  And the crowd roared.

 It was a perfect moment. 

You get what anyone gets...you get a lifetime.

I guess I'm not as healed as I thought.

My brother had to use nephew guilt to get me out of the house tonight.

I'm okay now that I'm here, though. The whole 2 minutes it took me to get here.

:)

My grandpa is home from the hospital, with orders for a nurse and a physical therapist to visit every day. The physical therapist is a real blessing and just what he needs to get him up and moving.

:)

We're scattered all over town tonight. New Year's Eve used to be mandatory event, but now it's always a last-minute thing...because New Year's Day IS a mandatory event. We have Christmas Eve, my brother's birthday, and New Year's Day all in a week, that's a lot of family time even for us! Because, you know, some of us are a little obnoxious and hard to get along with.

I'm not naming names or anything...

So all we've got here tonight is me, my mom, Chelsea, and my brother's family. Dwayne's at home hurting (I miss him!).

:(

I had a lot of hopes for 2013 and I can't be disappointed...I'm not at all where I wanted to be, but I'm not where I was either. If I've learned anything, it's that any progress at all is good progress. My mind and body have healed some...not as much, not completely, but COMPARATIVELY.

I'm smiling more, and I can laugh.

I can even look forward to 2014.

Love you all...

When there's nothing left but you, and me, and the wind

My grandpa's in the hospital with pneumonia, again.

He called my mom, my aunt and the ambulance late Christmas night, because his head was hurting so bad. We worry about his head ever since his brain tumor last year.

But no, they admitted him for pneumonia. His CT looks okay - well, it did after we explained to the tech that Popa was missing a large portion of his cerebellum due to the brain tumor. I swear the tech had written a book about how the CT was inconclusive because no one had thought to give the poor guy my grandpa's history beforehand.

So after all the XRays and CTs and bronchio-thingies, he definitely has pneumonia, and they're saying it's OLD pneumonia - meaning he's never gotten over the pneumonia he had in June.

And this all does lead back to the brain tumor, because he won't get up and be active anymore.

Before the brain tumor, my grandpa looked more like he was 60 than 80. He was in top physical condition, and the only thing that had slowed him down was my grandmother's death the year before.

And then he went to the doctor because he was dizzy, and was immediately hospitalized for a massive brain tumor, had two major surgeries, a bout of intensive radiation, and is still here today, 83 years old.

The doctors say most people his age would not survive this, but this is my grandpa we're talking about.

But now we're here, and he has to get up and moving to get better, and he will not get up.

The lack of a cerebellum in his brain makes him dizzy. He has fallen quite a few times. He needs to go slow and use his cane and walker. I know he has never had to use it before, but neither has Dwayne, who is 40 years younger than him!

The doctors say walking walking walking will cause Popa's brain to remap around the cerebellum and he will get less dizzy as time goes by.

But he's still not doing it. So he won't get up and the pneumonia won't go away and I am so frustrated.

My grandmother and my grandfather were perfect soul mates and both stubborn as mules.

My grandmother would just worry my grandfather to death until he gave in. My grandfather was more sneaky in his approach to getting my grandmother to do what he wanted, he picked and chose his battles so that when he asked, she said yes.

My grandmother would know how to make him get up.

So...second year in a row we're spending New Year's at the hospital. Ya-ay?!

December Photo A Day, Days 13, 14 and 15 - Composition, Drink and Lights

More Photos for December:

Day 13: Composition - The building I work in, and the tree I like to gaze at during meetings (I think I took this in September)

Day 14: Drink - My drink is still Diet Pepsi

Day 15, Lights: My grandpa's tree...Chelsea took this picture today

I'd say more but I'm still recovering...The immediate care center gave me an antibiotic, and I'm actually taking it, that's how bad I feel. Well, felt - I am feeling better than I was.

So, okay, here's a thing - today was my great-aunt's birthday party (this is my grandma's sister). We were supposed to have her party last week but we had snow and ice so we had to reschedule. 

My aunt (my mom's sister) was in charge of bringing the birthday cake this time. So, when it's time to put the candles on, this is what she comes up with:

Do you see a giant piece of cake missing from the corner? Because I do.

We all stared at Aunt Sondra in disbelief, and she said, "What? I was stuck in the house with Alyssa all week, and the cake was going to go bad, so I gave her a piece. Just don't say anything about it and no one will notice."

NO ONE WILL NOTICE?

So this cake wasn't meant to be eaten, Aunt Sondra had bought another cake that wasn't a week old to actually eat. Why couldn't we put the candles on that?

I've mentioned before that my brother is completely obnoxious, AND that we're very much alike. In unison, we both said, "I don't care how old my cake is or how hungry you get, please don't EVER give me a cake with a piece missing out of it." LOL 

So that's all...my aunt is something else. She is my grandma multiplied by about a thousand. Audacious to the most outrageous.

My great-aunt Edie is the sweetest, gentlest soul in the world, so of course she didn't say anything about the missing piece. 

Dwayne loves to point out how sweet and gentle she is and what in the world happened to the rest of us.

Giving thanks #3; When the world's all as it should be...

So we were at Dwayne's parents' house yesterday, and Chelsea, Halie, (Dwayne's niece), Dwayne and I were sitting at the kitchen table talking.

"You know," Chelsea said, "I was looking at my pictures, and this is the exact same outfit I wore last year for Thanksgiving. Right down to my hair clip."

After we got done laughing, Chelsea continued...

"You know what else? This is also the exact same outfit I wore two years ago at Thanksgiving. Also, the same hair clip."

It was hilarious.

I don't know what it is about Thanksgiving that brings out dysfunction AND humor at family dinners.

Dwayne's little brother, Jermey (yes, that is how it is spelled) has lost 150 pounds in the past couple of years, and in the process he's became a health and fitness freak.

Have you ever had Thanksgiving dinner with a recently converted health and fitness freak?

What happens is, you get a running commentary on everything you put in your mouth, interspersed with moaning and groaning about how he's eaten SO MUCH and he's going to run 9 miles in the morning to make up for it.

I heard the 9 miles thing several times.

And then this happened:

"Dude, you really need to look into acai berries. They really give your colon a good cleansing."

Really? While we're eating? LOLOLOL

So then we escaped to my grandpa's house where things were much, much worse.

We pulled into the driveway about ten seconds before my obnoxious big brother, who gets out of the car and says, "Now I KNOW we're late if we're getting here after YOU!"

He's so kind.

My mom's inside looking kind of busy so I stay out of her way.

Look...I'm slow and clumsy, and trust me, in times of high stress, she can be vicious. It's better for everyone if I DON'T HELP.

After the bad thing that happened last year, mom and Aunt Sondra decided to get turkey and dressing from Cracker Barrel and make everything else.

So Aunt Sondra comes in with the Cracker Barrel stuff and with Alyssa The Perfect, and things kick into high gear, and oh. my. gosh.

After everything calms down, everyone has food and no blood has been drawn, the analysis starts.

Mom: Next year, we're going out to eat. This is ridiculous.
Aunt Sondra: Well, when Moma was here, we all sat down, the food was passed around, and she didn't sit down until everyone got their food.
Mom: Well, I don't wanna do that.
Me: Yeah, and Moma never yelled at us.
John: Yeah.
Me: Yeah, you were really mean.
Mom: I know, I can't help it.

Here's where it gets bad, as if comparing my mother to my grandmother wasn't bad enough.

Me: You and Aunt Sondra are both really mean anymore.
John: Yeah.
John: You know what it is?
Me: What?
Me: Oh no.
John: (to the table at large) You two need to get a man!

I don't even want to talk about the discussion that happened after that.

So, Thanksgiving in a nutshell! The silent ones in these two venues are the ones who are nice and don't start trouble, including and especially Dwayne! 

As you can see, I am an instigator. The world sees me as silent and pure, but I'm really not that nice. I try, I really do. But when I see a pot, I have to stir it. 

That reminds me to tell you all sometime about the meeting at work this week...I don't know why I can't keep my mouth shut? What is wrong with me?!?!?!

I had a wonderful Thanksgiving with my two wonderful families (Dwayne's and mine), bickering and all! I am blessed and I know it!

Happy weekend!

Giving thanks #2; In the land that is plentiful...

Thanksgiving has always been my grandmother's day - her Big Show. She would begrudgingly allow everyone to bring one (pre-approved) dish for Thanksgiving dinner, but that was it! She was determined to make and prepare everything herself, and worked for days to give us a veritable feast. 

This will be our third Thanksgiving without her, and it still hasn't gotten any easier. My family's very close, you know, and the 14 of us celebrate something at least a couple times a month, and there's always an empty space now. Thanksgiving hurts the most.

Despite all this, I'm reminded on Thanksgiving of how grateful I am. I gladly accept the pain of loss, because I wouldn't ever give up loving and having had a close relationship with my grandma. I don't know anyone who has a family like mine. I am blessed.

I am thankful.
I have my family.
I have my daughter.
I have my mom.
I have my Dwayne.
I have my kitty.
I'm alive.
I survived.
I had the best grandmother in the world.
I have a place to live (complete with a living room floor-sleeper, but that's another story).
I have a job.
I'M STILL ALIVE.

Love you all... Happy Thanksgiving. :)

Annie's Song

My beautiful Annie

I've rarely talked about my Annie in this blog, maybe a mention here or there...I've been remiss!

Every family has a black sheep, one who bucks the status quo and does her own thing, and that's my beautiful cousin Annie. I was always the oddball they didn't understand, but I was malleable. Annie, malleable? Never!

We have a family event every two weeks or so, or at least once a month. All 14 of us are expected to attend. The first time Annie didn't show up, I was shocked. You mean not showing up was an option?

Annie has tattoos. An ankh on her back, a huge tribal tattoo on her arm, a panther on her leg. I made the mistake of asking why she had a lizard tattoo on her leg and she didn't speak to me for hours. IT'S A PANTHER, NOT A LIZARD!!! 

Annie has a nose ring.

Only Annie is allowed any of these privileges. My grandmother would have spanked me with the yardstick for the second time in my life if I had showed up with a nose ring and tattoos. But I wouldn't, anyway, because long ago my grandfather told me I wasn't allowed. I guess Annie didn't get 'the talk'.

My mother and Annie's mother are sisters, so, due to the way my grandmother raised all of us, Annie and I might as well have been sisters, we grew up so close to each other. I was her maid of honor, and her beautiful little girl calls me 'Aunt Michelle'.

In the month that my grandmother died, Annie and I both ended up in the same treatment facility. Annie was admitted a few days before I was released. When I think back on it, our mothers had just lost their mother, and their daughters were in the hospital. We didn't make it easy on them, did we?

While my reaction to Moma's death was nearly killing myself by falling into the black hole of depression and never resurfacing, Annie's reaction was to dive deep into drugs to numb the pain.

We're both doing better now. I still have a ways to go, but I'm so much better than I was. Annie lives in the country in a bona fide farmhouse which is too far away for my liking, but she's become so capable, I'm so proud of her. She's a wonderful mother.

She'll be 29 in a couple weeks; and always my beautiful Annie.

He's my brother...

Me, Carol, John, Moma - 1991

Try to ignore the hair and clothing...we thought we were in style. :)

That's me, my sister-in-law, my big brother and my grandmother up there, at my brother's graduation from drill sergeant school at Ft.Something or Other in 1991.

I may have said something about my brother before in the past nine years on this blog... He IS my big brother, after all, and I think big brothers come with a secret manual or something, called 'How To Torture Your Little Sister Her Whole Life.'

They may think the same thing about us.

So we're at a family party earlier this month, and John, Chelsea, Dwayne and I are hiding down in the basement away from the annoying cousins (even though my brother and I bicker endlessly, we are also very very similar. That may be why we bicker endlessly.)

Deciding this is as good a time as any, I hand my brother the list of '20 Things About My Brother' that I had just posted on Twitter. ALL TRUE.
Here they are:

1. Loud
2. Good dad
3. Obnoxious
4. Obsessive
5. Protective
6. Former drill sergeant
7. Refuses to lose
8. Loud
9. Obnoxious
10. Able to make sisters, nieces, aunts, mothers, cousins and grandmothers cry
11. Charming to everyone but his family
12. My rock when we were growing up
13. Loud
14. Obnoxious
15. One of the best men I know
16. Can be a big jerk
17. A great big brother
18. An annoying big brother
19. Loud and obnoxious
20. Loves me

He reads it over, hands it back, and says, "I can't believe you said all those mean things about me!"

"What mean things? I said a lot of good things! And it's all true!"

"Not all of it."

"What isn't true?"

"I'm not obnoxious."

With that declaration, Dwayne, Chelsea and I all shouted in laughter. We couldn't help it. Look obnoxious up in the dictionary, you'll see my brother.

We went upstairs and he told on me to my mom. My mom said, "Wait, when you used to run around with Rich, didn't you use to call yourselves 'Loud and Obnoxious'? In fact, wasn't Rich 'Loud', and you were 'Obnoxious'?"

I love it when my mom takes my side.  Even now when we're 40 and 45 and we regress 35 years in her presence.

I also really do love my big brother, I don't know what I'd do without him.

Go Wherever You Wanna Go

In the few days before my grandma died, she slipped into a coma and never woke up.

I had trouble understanding the concept. In the back of my mind, I always thought she would get better.

We spent all of our time at my grandparent's house. I would sit in Moma's room and hold her hand, while her favorite band, Dailey & Vincent, played softly in the background.

At Dwayne's insistence, I called my dad. I honestly hadn't even thought about it. My grandma had always thought of my dad like a son, and my dad loved my grandma.

My dad came to see her and admonished me for not calling sooner. I hadn't talked to him in over a year. And I was still in denial...thinking my grandma was going to wake up.

That same night, the night before she died, I was talking to my grandpa about her terrible breathing. She seemed to be struggling... My grandpa said that was the 'death rattle'.

The next day I sat with Moma some more...I held her hand, and told her I loved her, and begged her to wake up, but she never did. I finally kissed her goodbye, and Dwayne, Chelsea and I left.

We weren't gone five minutes before my mom called me and said just two words, "Come back."

We went back and I ran in the house and my grandpa said, "She's gone."

.....................................................................................................

After everything was over, after the wild grief that I hope to never ever have to go through again, my mom told us,

She was sitting with Moma and holding her hand, and suddenly Moma's breathing eased up, and she was breathing so easily. My mom called out for everyone to come. Moma was lying there, so peaceful, breathing so easily, and while Mom was still holding her hand, Moma just slipped away.
..................................................................................................

That was two years ago. I was in no shape to write about this until now. I'm still writing it with tears running down my face, but it's really okay.

Missed.

Two years ago, we celebrated Fourth of July at my grandparents house. My grandma was in the last weeks of her two-year struggle with ovarian cancer, and we were all aware that this was likely the last holiday we would all be together.

As I sat and gazed at my beautiful grandmother, I thought about Thornton Wilder's "Our Town". I felt like the young female protagonist who died and visited her life as a ghost, and implored everyone to appreciate their life and loved ones while they could.

I struggled to take in every moment of the day: my family laughing as we cooked out in the backyard; sitting in the family room with my grandma and my daughter; setting off fireworks in the street while my grandma watched from the porch. She had to be so exhausted, but she stayed up and with us every moment of the day.

Eight days later, my grandmother slipped into a coma. She died on July 16, 2011.

We didn't celebrate Independence Day at all the next year.

This year we did get together for our family thing. The pain is still there but time has eased it, and now we can smile and laugh and remember without our heart always breaking in two.

This holiday, though, is no longer just a holiday. It's the last holiday I spent with my grandmother, and will always be the most precious to me.

Safe

Music: In My Arms - Plumb

My grandma's been in the hospital since Tuesday. She had her first and only chemo treatment and she still hasn't recovered. Her remaining chemo schedule has been put off indefinitely, and now they're talking feeding tube.

How did we get here? She was fine three months ago...

I guess I should say she seemed fine three months ago. Even then, the cancer was eating away at her, and we didn't know it.

I love a lot of people...my family, and my friends, and my coworkers...sometimes my heart feels almost too full when I think about all the wonderful people in my life. Sometimes I might get hurt, if I expect something from someone and it doesn't happen... but then I laugh it off, and forgive if needed. There's no room for resentment in my heart. It just doesn't go well with the love...

This has been a more disjointed entry than usual...I'm just finding it hard to focus lately, I guess. Worried, and disappointed. The world turned upside down when my grandma got sick, and it still hasn't righted itself.

Family

My family... My whole life, whenever I refer to my family, it's always been my mom's side. I do have some family on my dad's side - cousins, uncles, an aunt - but my paternal grandparents both died when I was a teenager, and my dad, an alcoholic, drifts in and out of my life.

My family on mom's side, however, is extremely close and has been the same tight family unit for as long as I can remember. Mom (mom). John (brother). Moma (grandmother). Popa (grandfather). Edie (great-aunt). Aunt Sondra (aunt). Annie (cousin). The unit has of course gotten bigger over the years, first by me with the addition of my daughter and my SO, and then my brother got married and had my nephew and niece. Chelsea (daughter). Dwayne (SO). Carol (SIL). Johnny (nephew). Chloe (niece).

So for all of my 36 years, I've experienced the joys of a close family... The now thirteen of us not only gather for every birthday, every holiday and every summoning by my grandmother, but we also travel, en masse, every year to vacation together for a long weekend to coincide with our family's Decoration Day at our ancestral home. These have been our traditions forever. I can only vaguely remember when our family unit included one more, my great-grandmother (Ma), who lived one street over and died when I was seven. My grandmother still calls her Mommy and cries when she talks about her.

Another of the hard times our family endured was when my dad was stationed in Germany for three years and took us with him. I cried for my grandmother every night for a week, but from what I hear, my grandmother took it much worse, having her babies so far away. My aunt got pregnant and had a baby and my mom, her sister, was an ocean away and couldn't be there with her. My brother graduated from high school in Germany but my grandmother crossed the ocean and came to Germany for that one!

When I graduated from high school and again, from college, my whole family was there to see me. I have been so lucky, my whole life, to have been blessed with my family, no matter how infuriating and annoying I may sometimes find them. They are family, you know!

And since this is Kentucky and everyone has kids when they're teenagers, my grandparents are only 75 and 79 years old. I've been expecting to have at least fifteen more years with them.

So when Mom told me that Moma was being tested for ovarian cancer, it was really the last thing I ever expected to hear.

Retrospect

November:

My pretty bought-new UK blue car broke to pieces when I hit that tree, and after more than a month of waiting and then car shopping, I ended up with a brand new used car...

I had bought my last two cars new, both, again, UK blue... but nowadays, times are tough and I had to go for used only, with what the insurance paid off when they totaled out my car.

So my mom and my grandma are out looking for cars while I'm at work, and one day they call and tell me they've found my car and they've had my mechanic check it and all they need is my social security number...

So now I have a little nondescript dark green car, and it looks like every other car in the parking lot. It doesn't stand out like my pretty bright UK blue car did! But that's okay, because I'm in love with the inside of it. It's an LS, nicer inside than any of my new cars ever were, and best of all, the stereo is awesome...

Which is really all I care about. I always offer my car to drive anywhere now, because of my really cool stereo. I LOVE my stereo...

Yeah, I offer my car to drive - not me driving. Other people drive my car alot. I don't wanna drive, and for some reason, people don't seem to want me to drive them around... I can't imagine why...

December -

By December I'm so tired I can barely make it in to work. My arms get tired just blow drying my hair and folding clothes. Once I'm down, I'm down... at home that means going from my bedroom to the kitchen is impossible, and at work that means going from my desk to the breakroom is impossible.

My brain finally remembered that I felt this way a year ago and my anemia had gotten really, really bad... It took me a while to catch on because this year I didn't have any symptoms exacerbating it like I did last year.

So I start taking some over the counter iron pills, but they're not helping...

January -

Cyst on my neck. Surgery to remove it. Stitches. Scar. Ow. At least it's benign.

Oh, and the doctor tested my blood, said my anemia has my blood count almost down to the levels it was last year (8), and got me off the stupid self-medicating and on some proper pills.

My post-op check was delayed by the ice storm that knocked out everybody's power for a week and destroyed all the trees.

Yeah, first the windstorm caused by the hurricane, and then less than six months later, we have the ice storm.

At least all those generators everybody bought the first time around got put to good use....

But I can't stand to see all the broken trees.

February -

Birthday time. After last year's debacle I said, no birthday party. So when my aunt called to let me know that the time of my birthday party had changed, I figured out quickly that my mom had planned it against my wishes...

So, halfway through the party, celebrating it the day after my birthday, with one family member having left the house in anger and walking aimlessly around the neighborhood, and another family member in the kitchen talking angrily about leaving and how they shouldn't have even came, there was me in my mom's bathroom crying and desperately wishing to go back to the day before.

My mom came in there and told me she was sorry, she knew I had said no party, and next year we would just go out of town.

Cool. Or, how about, just. no. party.

On the up side, I'm feeling much, much, much better. The doctor's prescription for my anemia has worked like magic. I'm actually able to go for walks now...

This time, I'm going to keep taking the pills even though I'm feeling better. I've been anemic since I was a teenager, and have gone through spells ever since of my iron dropping to really low levels, but never like it has the past two years.

Take your medicine! It's my new motto... I'm not getting any younger, obviously, with the way these dreaded birthdays keep coming around...