With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair...

I was in my neurologist's office, talking about the increase in my migraines. She hemmed and hawed and finally said, "Michelle, I think you're depressed again."

Something about chronic pain and depression feeding off of each other, blah blah, and all I could think was, I KNOW, I've been here before, but I got better. Aren't I still better? Plus, my psychiatrist seems to think I'm okay... But all I could really do was start crying and say, "It's been a really bad week."

It didn't seem to matter; she said I was as dysphoric as she's ever seen me, so now I have to go to therapy again. I hate therapy - my secrets are perfectly fine hidden down deep where they belong.

...

We buried my grandfather almost two weeks ago, right next to my grandmother, in our family cemetery in Blackwater, Kentucky. It was humbling, to see the number of people who drove 180+ miles from Louisville to a tiny place that's not even on the map, a holler in the Appalachian foothills - all to attend the graveside service for my grandpa.

I heard several people say it at the funeral home, but I always feel like I said it first - Popa was the best man I've ever known.

You couldn't ask for a better legacy than that.

...

Popa's oldest son and I were in Popa's hospital room when the nurse came in and suggested we should start calling people. Pretty soon we had four more in there, plus our preacher. It was so crowded, and I just wanted everyone to leave - all I could think was, is Popa somehow hearing all this noise?

But there's really no tactful way to kick your own family out of the room.

So we waited, and Popa's breathing got more and more shallow. There were conversations going on around us, but my eyes were glued to Popa's chest - as long as he was breathing, he was okay. I noticed my brother doing the same thing. 

My brother and I clash a lot. We're extreme opposites, and also extremely similar, sometimes.

My grandpa's breathing stuttered a few times, which I had read was normal. The Hosparus wing that my grandfather was in was such a helpful, wonderful place. They let us know what was happening and what to look for, every step of the way. We were prepared.

Then, Popa took a breath, and then half a breath, and then he didn't breathe again.

I wasn't as prepared for it as I thought I was.

Keep on moving though the waters stay raging

I'm coming back, I swear.

It's so hard to express what's happening right now...for all that my family is extremely close, we don't spend a lot of time talking about our feelings to each other.

Well, I don't, anyway.

Since my grandfather's brain tumor, he's had surgery and more surgeries, and chemo and relapses and more surgeries, and he's just unrecognizable now from the person he was two years ago.

Losing my grandmother was devastating. Now I'm losing my grandfather, but it's in increments, day to week to month, and the way I feel about it is something I can't describe. He's still here, but not really, and I hate it, I just hate it so much, and I feel so powerless.

When Dwayne was in the hospital I had a taste of what it would be like without my person, and I don't ever want to have to face that again. I wonder if that's how my grandpa feels...kind of at sea, without his person, my grandma, there to anchor him.

Besides Dwayne, my other people are my mom and Chelsea. (I'd kinda include my kitty in there but most people wouldn't call her a person.) I'm sure I'm one of Dwayne's people...I'm not so sure who my mom's and Chelsea's people are.

Your people are the ones you trust, and who text you all the time, and nag at you to do stuff, and you talk to them all week. They're the people you can't do without, and you tell them everything. Mostly. Do you know who your people are?

I fall down sometimes, sometimes I come back flying

Longest May ever.

I missed more days of work than I actually worked. MIGRAINES.

Dwayne was in the hospital for a week. He's home and doing physical therapy.

My grandfather is home from the rehab place. He's not really doing better.

My mom fell down and broke her wrist. She's who I get it from, obviously.

On my zillionth day or something of missing work this year, my neurologist called and suggested, again, that I have the Botox treatment for migraines. I've been refusing all this time...why would I want to get toxic shots in my head? How could that possibly be good?

But she caught me at a weak moment. This whole month has been a weak moment, really, and so I agreed. I just wanted to not be in pain anymore.

I had the procedure last week and did you know that it was 31 SHOTS?

31 SHOTS?

I didn't. Not until the doctor walked in and started getting the needles ready. 

So. The three shots to my forehead were the worst - they really, really hurt. The three shots in each temple hurt the least, at the time, but they are really sore now. Three in each shoulder, three at the base of my skull, three behind each ear. I can't remember the rest, I've probably blocked it out.

My head has hurt all week, and I have another full-blown migraine today.

My forehead is distressingly numb.

And to think movie stars do this on purpose.

I was supposed to go to a wedding today, but I didn't. Migraine.

I'm hoping that with June, I can start over. 

You know...living.

I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve...

You know, I just looked at this picture and remembered that movie Lawnmower Man from a zillion years ago...I remember actually going to the dollar theater and seeing it with a friend of mine, back when we were in high school.

I'm so old.

That theater is now a Steak n' Shake, I think.

So weird, the stuff you suddenly remember out of nowhere. :)

My week has been filled with migraine, work, rehab place to visit my grandpa, moving boxes around my apartment, moving boxes around some more, migraine, migraine, work, migraine.

I also fit in some time to watch the MTV Movie Awards, read a little, tweet a little, play Legend of the Cryptids a little, and I felt terribly guilty THE WHOLE TIME.

And...I went to the basement by myself for the first time to wash clothes and nearly died on the stairs. It was dark, and I managed to miss the last step completely. Luckily, there was a wall right in front of me for me to smash into.

Staircases - I just don't do well on them, for some reason.

So...you know my co-worker Mark, right? The one who's now my landlord? Well, we're old cronies at work, we've sat next to each other for years...he's the one I bestowed my window seat to earlier this year.

We've worked in the same office at the same job for the last 15 years or so, and we're considered 'old-timers' on our team. We recently acquired a new person, who's been with the company maybe 7 or 8 months...and wow, I just don't know how we're going to break her in.

I've caught her several times asking our supervisor for MORE WORK. Then, I heard that she went and asked ANOTHER team's supervisor for more work. THEN, if that wasn't bad enough, I overheard her bragging about the fact that she had to go and ask for more work.

Oh, boy.

But the really funny, awful thing happened on Tuesday.

Tuesday, I was sitting at my desk, typing up an email, minding my own business, when I heard New Girl walk up behind me and start talking to Mark. So of course, I immediately ceased minding my own business and started listening.

New Girl: Hi Mark...
Mark (warily): Hi...
New Girl: Um, I was working on some of your accounts...

(Here's me, thinking, OMG, if you even so much as touch one of MY accounts I will END YOU!!)
(sorry...I have rage)

New Girl: And um...don't take this the wrong way...

(Here it comes, that phrase is never followed by anything good)

New Girl: But...WHAT do you DO all day?

(??? Oh no she didn't!)

New Girl: I mean, these are in such bad shape, some of them, and I was just wondering, why...

Mark, after being momentarily stunned into silence, very gracefully told her what he did all day, as he is the leader of our group and does all the things that we don't have to do.

Finally, New Girl left.

Seconds pass by, then, at the same time, Mark and I slowly scoot our chairs back until we can see each other behind the cubicle wall.

Gut-splitting laughter ensues.

We're trying to talk as we're gasping for air.

"Did you hear-"

"Did she just say-"

Finally, Mark gets it out...

"If she'd been one of us, I would have told her the truth.

"What do I do all day?

"AS LITTLE AS POSSIBLE!"

This is the mantra of someone who has worked in the same job for years and years and years.

:)

Poor New Girl. It's not her fault she's new and gung-ho, but it IS her fault that she asked one of the rudest questions I've ever heard, and jokes have abounded in our pod the last couple of days about what we do all day.

Besides work, that is.

Miss you all...

:(

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.

We're one, but we're not the same, we get to carry each other...

Well.

You know, my mind tries to look at what's going on objectively, and it can't...it veers away. Weird. My only issues are that this stupid migraine won't go away; also, I'm apparently going to need to pry my floor-sleeper out of the apartment because he hasn't budged. Is he going to just keep sitting there even after we move?

But everything else, I just try to look at from my mother's perspective, and I want to be a better daughter. My grandfather has never quite recovered from his brain surgery last year, and tonight my mom is with him back at the hospital. My brother, in the meantime, is starting his third week of treatment for leukemia. We're still healing from the loss of my grandmother to ovarian cancer, and so learning this about my brother was a blow.

I had three hospital stays in three years, it's my time to be healthy; I just need to get there. I want to support my mom and not be so tired all the time. 

Life's too short.

So now, totally unrelated, I thought I'd cheer us up (or, well, me up) with a film clip! Have you ever seen "O Brother, Where Art Thou?"? You haven't? Why not???!!! This is my heritage, yo! LOLOL

So, this is my very favorite part of the movie, because the guys have been running from the law this whole time and have no idea that the record they made as The Soggy Bottom Boys has become a BONA FIDE hit! And if you feel the need to make fun of the accents or the dancing, go ahead, but tread lightly, because I grew up with grandparents and great-grandparents that sang and danced EXACTLY like this! :)

p.s. The clip isn't perfect but it's the best I could find...and oh, yeah, it's dubbed in French. AHAHAHA

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. 

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?!

Happy Father's Day 2013

We had Father's Day for my grandpa today.  He was diagnosed with a brain tumor in December, had emergency surgery, then radiation, and has had lots of complications since then.  The doctor said this week that he has pneumonia again.  Is it because we went out of town last weekend?  I don't know, but I'm so grateful he's still here.

Popa, Father's Day 2008

My daughter never met her father.  I have the distinction of being one of those girls who managed to give birth AND get dumped by their boyfriend on the same day.  I was the clear winner, however, because that day I met the person who I would love more than anyone else in the whole world.

Michelle and Chelsea, 1992

I've always been a single mom, but not.  Chelsea grew up with me AND my mother AND my grandmother...and Dwayne and I started dating when she was four so she really had me plus two other moms plus a kind of stepdad. So I always had help, and HELP, but it still has always felt like me and Chelsea vs. the world.  I wonder if my mom felt like that with me?

Michelle and Chelsea 1994

Michelle and Chelsea 1995

Michelle and Chelsea 2004

Us, now

Sunday after the second Saturday...

This is my grandpa putting flowers on my grandma's grave for Decoration tomorrow.

I'm not sure why we started early.

If you're not from the Appalachians you may have never heard of Decoration Day. It's what the idea of Memorial Day came from. It warranted its own paragraph in Wikipedia under Memorial Day -

"Annual Decoration Days for particular cemeteries are held on a Sunday in late spring or early summer in some rural areas of the American South, notably in the mountains.
 

In cases involving a family graveyard where remote ancestors as well as those who were deceased more recently are buried, this may take on the character of an extended family reunion to which some people travel hundreds of miles.

People gather on the designated day and put flowers on graves and renew contacts with kinfolk and others.
 
There often is a religious service and a "dinner on the ground," the traditional term for a potluck meal in which people used to spread the dishes out on sheets or tablecloths on the grass.
It is believed that this practice began before the American Civil War and thus may reflect the real origin of the "memorial day" idea." 

This is my great- grandparents grave... I called them Ma and Pa but my Grandma, in true Appalachian fashion, called them Mommy and Daddy her whole life.

Further down this way in the Taylor Family Cemetery are the graves of my great great grandparents and my great great great grandparents.  Tomorrow morning the cemetery will be full of distantly related people we don't know and lots of firsts and second cousins we haven't seen since last Decoration.

This is my first Decoration since Moma's been gone.  Two years ago we all came down here for Decoration and my grandma was so sick - she would only live for another month after that. But she went everywhere with us. She was such a fighter.

I couldn't come the next year,... I had emergency surgery and couldn't get out of bed. 

So I've made trips in between to decorate her grave for the seasons, but this is different.  I've never been to Decoration without her.  What do I do, how do I act without her? This is her thing and I am just a supporting player with no one here to support.

I miss her so much.

The ambien effect...

I used to sit and watch my grandpa count out his pills every night and think, wow, old people need a lot of medicine.

And now I'm pretty sure I take more pills than he does.  He's 83, and I just turned 40 and am in denial about it.

I regularly swallow 9 pills every night.  That's not including any Benadryl or antibiotic or whatever else I might sporadically need.

My most important pill is, of course, the AMBIEN.  I can't go to sleep without it.  I also wouldn't be able to explain away all my strange middle of the night behavior without it.

"Michelle, why did you buy $500 worth of music from iTunes in the middle of the night!?"

Oh, wow, it must have been the Ambien...

"Mommy, I told you to get up and put these in the fridge and lock the door!"

Oh sorry, it was the Ambien...

"Why does the cat have all these bald spots?"

I was giving her a haircut...what...it seemed like a good idea with the Ambien!

So now I'm up because this one time the Ambien hasn't put me to sleep yet.  Which means everything is suspect.  My judgment is compromised and my memory will be faulty.  Everything I'm typing right now holds the potential for embarrassment.  But I really want to go get a diet Pepsi which is full of awesome caffeine so I'm gonna hit publish and blame it on the Ambien.  

Pressure, Darkness, Freedom

Popa and I heard it firsthand from Kris this summer - `Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose.`

lost entry...

am i falling for this again?...
i put my heart and soul into an entry, clicked save, and it disappeared into aol no man's land...
what was it about? something about the cast and stitches on my hand, and how it's affected my typing ability, and how i'm using my hand anyway even though i'm not supposed to and even though it hurts really bad, and we had major drama today and i'm tired of it and i'm having trouble getting out of bed, and how i'm falling into a deep black hole of depression again even though my medicine is supposed to prevent that and that might be a clue that it might need to be changed, and i ran out of heart medicine and oh yeah i was going to go back to bed and get under the covers and not come out again until things got much much better
and then of course my plans got foiled by stupid aol losing my stupid entry.
so i restarted my computer, took a walk into the living room and rescued my kitty and put her where she belongs (you know, in bed with me)
and wrote this
and whether this one works or not, I really am going to sleep now.  Tomorrow's Father's Day and we have to honor my grandpa.  I also have to call my dad.  Father's Day makes me uncomfortable for my daughter's sake...she doesn't have a father, never has had one...I don't know how she feels about it.  I feel terrible about it.

Miscellany...

No school tomorrow for my daughter...it's the first day of spring break.  So she is spending the night at her best friend's house.
So what did I do on my big Thursday night out with no responsibilities, not a care in the world?
I got off work, came home, and took a nap.  D called and woke me up twice.  He didn't come over because he has to work at the crack of dawn tomorrow... The second time he called and woke me up, I gave up, got up, and went into the kitchen.  I was starving...no one but me to fix dinner for...I fixed a can of ravioli and ate at the table while studying my laptop. 
And once I finished my ravioli, I signed off my laptop in there and came and got on my computer in here (my bedroom).
My life is obviously very, very sad, when there's no daughter around to fill it up!
But at least I got to eat ravioli.
LOL! Okay, I'm done now...I really did have about a million other things I could have done, but the prospect of having an evening where I did absolutely nothing but sleep and whatever else I wanted was too good to pass up...I would have turned the phone off but I was afraid my daughter would call so I couldn't...no phone really would have been the perfect evening!
NEWS OF THE WEEK:
1.  I took C to the ear doctor this week and she is healed!  Even the hole the doctor had seen has healed up...the doctor was amazed, she wanted to know what else we had done at home because she had been sure that we were going to need additional medicine and/or surgery.  As it is now, she goes back in two months for another check up.
I am just so thankful that this day is here...more than five months later, she is finally free of all that infection and pain.  Thank you thank you thank you...
2.  I am going to New York in less than two weeks and I have nothing to wear...
3.  Saturday evening, D bought me a present for the trip.  Yes...he took the hint...I can't BELIEVE he took the hint but then again I've never gone to NYC before...
I am now the proud owner of an iPod shuffle! Yay!
It only took me two days to figure out how to make it work with my computer, but it's oh so cool...
4.  After the good news about my daughter, I was on a wave of relief that lasted for approximately one day...then my mom told me that she has to go see an oral surgeon about a spot on her tongue...and then my grandpa's outpatient surgery on his nose that was scheduled for tomorrow was cancelled this week due to his heart rate being extremely low (40 instead of 80 where it's supposed to be) and he instead had to go see a cardiologist and is taking a stress test tomorrow...and my aunt has a place on her pancreas that the doctors are looking at...
What in the world?  I kind of felt like, sheesh, get rid of one worry, pick up three more...but I'm refusing to worry about it.  Breaking news today from the cardiologist was that my grandpa's low heart rate may be due to some medicine that he's been taking, so hopefully that's that and once he weans himself off it he'll be fine.  And God and the doctors will take care of my mom and my aunt and there will be no problem...I mean it!
5.  And now, to end on a positive note...you should be here in Louisville to feel how excited my city is about being in the Final Four this year, for the first time since 1986!  Pep rally downtown yesterday at Fourth Street Live...16,000 people attended it!  Even most...some...die-hard Kentucky fans are excited about it!  Go Cards...
(sigh)
I'm really missing my daughter...I'm sure SHE'S having all kinds of fun...here's the current background to my desktop, my daughter made it for me a couple of weeks ago...

Good night!

Well, Hello...

Christmas Blessings 2004:
1. I am blessed by all my wonderful J-land friends, who prayed for and sent healing thoughts for and asked about my daughter...
2. I am blessed by my daughter, who, even with her leaky, itchy ear, dived right into enjoying every minute of Christmas...
3. I am blessed by Him, who managed to look over me in the past seven days and helped me take care of getting my insurance card, my license tags, my traffic ticket, my Christmas presents, my brother's birthday present, my daughter's doctor appointment...I managed to finish decorating my tree...my daughter had her oral antibiotic twice a day all week, as well as her antibiotic eardrops twice a day all week, I caught and got over a terrible headcold and cough that stuck me in bed for a day, and we had a blizzard that dumped ice and snow on the ground and then brought subzero temperatures and my car wouldn't get out of the driveway and there's still cars getting stuck around town...and yet I'm still making it...
4. I am blessed by Himself, the reason for it all...
5. Special recognition goes out this year for the most useful blessing: That of an SUV in the family when a blizzard hits the Ohio Valley three days before Christmas...The 9-12 inches of ice then snow then ice then snow meant that the roads of my city were impassable by all but four-wheel drive vehicles...my mom and her Ford Escape became very, very popular this week...
I've been extremely neglectful of my journal this past week...just too, too much to deal with...My daughter is doing okay...her ear has been draining for almost two weeks now, but it's less swollen than it was...I have no idea if this is good or bad...her ENT appointment will be Jan. 10.  She has been having a real problem with it itching, especially at night! We've had several sleepless nights lately, with her crying and wanting me to hold her ear...I feel like this has been going on forever...I think it has, right?
And the combination of the foot of snow outside and the girl who loves to sled and make snow angels inside was almost too much for me to take...I couldn't let her go out because of her ear...that was a rough one!
But things are good! I drove my car today for the first time since last Monday...and didn't even get stuck in the snow, like many people in my city are still doing on a daily basis...My daughter has jumped into decorating for the next holiday, Valentine's Day, and already has hearts all over her room (don't ask me what happened to New Year's, I don't know...)...We went to my brother's house for his birthday party and enjoyed a nice, restful evening (always a pleasant surprise when my brother's involved!)...my favorite moment of the day was watching my nephew play with my grandpa...my nephew is named after my grandpa...it was quite a wonderful sight, seeing the 74-year old J.W. sprawled on the floor playing GI Joes with his great-grandson, the 3-year old J.W....and best of all, I caught up on my journals and even got to make a journal entry!
I am...accomplished!

I need the hope...

Not a very fun day...
When I got home from work this evening, my dad called me.  He was upset with me, because he had been leaving me voicemails since yesterday and I hadn't called him back, and it was bad...my aunt is in the hospital.  Not the same aunt that was in the hospital a few weeks ago, this time it's my dad's sister.
I haven't been listening to my messages lately. 
My aunt went to the hospital with pains.  They thought it was her heart, and so they did a heart cath.  Her heart was fine.  Then they thought it was her gallbladder.  She had her gallbladder removed this morning.  During the surgery, they saw her liver.
They came out of the surgery, saying everything went fine, but...
And they showed my cousin, my aunt's middle daughter and my best friend, a picture of my aunt's liver. 
They said, "Your mother will have to stop drinking.  We're going to schedule some programs for her...".
She has cirrhosis of the liver.
The doctors didn't know then that my aunt doesn't ever drink.
And they didn't know that those were the only words that had the ability to put my family in a tailspin and strike fear in our hearts. 
My aunt's dad, my grandfather, died of cirrhosis of the liver.  He actually was an alcoholic.  He hemorrhaged to death in his apartment.  It was...terrible.  Terrible.
My aunt doesn't drink.  She doesn't have hepatitis.  But she has cirrhosis of the liver.  It may not be that advanced, and it may be manageable.  We'll know more when the real doctor comes in tomorrow.
But the gut reaction of my family was the reaction of a family who has already been torn apart by this disease.  My dad, sobbing over the phone, wondering why his sister, who has never done anything wrong, has this.  My uncle, hovering in the hallway.  My cousins, disbelieving and in tears.
They haven't told my aunt yet.  She was devastated when my grandpa died the way he did.  My cousins decided she wasn't in any condition, after her surgery today, to hear this.  I don't agree with their decision, but there's nothing I can do about it.  I felt horribly guilty sitting by her bed and knowing something she didn't. 
I hope that tomorrow the doctor will come in and say, this is not as bad as that, this can be managed...
I just didn't realize that the pain of my grandfather's violent death, over fourteen years ago, still had the ability to destroy us this way.

Mood: Moody

I think AOL should add more moods up there.  I'm hardly ever any of those moods they have listed.
I haven't had much time to stay on here, lately, with my aunt in the hospital...hopefully things will get back to normal soon.  Not that normal is really normal, but anyway...
The washer broke Wednesday night and flooded my utility room.  Now all the wood furniture that was in there is in the living room and there's about 1 foot of space to walk around.  My grandpa did fix my washer, though, so yay!  He's the best, he can fix anything, I don't know what I'd do without him.
My daughter went on a field trip with camp yesterday to the water park.  I was so worried about her going there without me.  She'll be 12 next month but she's still my baby!  I dropped her off at camp and went on to work, worrying the whole day that she'd get a sunburn (she is extremely fair-skinned and doesn't tan) because she wouldn't remember to reapply her sunblock...worrying that she'd get in the wave pool and lose her glasses...worrying about anything that could go wrong.  I was told at work to relax, stop worrying, and let her experience things.
So what happened?  She has a terrible sunburn on her face now.  She DID lose her glasses in the wave pool, but found them again.  And, to top it off, she lost her inner tube in the wave pool, while the waves were on, couldn't handle the waves, and the lifeguard had to jump in and get her.
OH MY GOSH!
See?  I KNEW it.  I don't think I can let her go back, they go to this waterpark every Thursday.  I think she's just too young to handle it without me.
I don't know.  Maybe I'm still a little too stunned to think about this clearly...

Good memories, part 1

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.