I was doing my best to catch up on everyone's blogs, but, as usual, life got in my way. Most of the time, I can ignore life and keep on doing my thing, but this time, there was no ignoring it, because it was Dwayne. Anyway, he's been in the hospital for a week now, and unless they lied, he should be coming home tomorrow. So that's why I dropped off the radar...I've been at the hospital. He's doing better. The doctors are still not sure what happened to him, but they were all fascinated by whatever it was. They stopped all his medicine, and all his symptoms stopped, so they figured it must be his medicine that caused it. There's a lot more to the story, and I know I'm not explaining it well...maybe more tomorrow? I think I'm going to sleep in my own bed tonight for the first time in a week and see how it goes. And yeah, the Ambien has kicked in. Goodnight!!! :)
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
It was hard to talk in The Place, and that's all they wanted me to do...talk talk talk all the time. How did this make me feel, how did that make me feel, and what did I think about that?
And god forbid I slipped and said something personal...they latched on to that like a dog with a bone.
For some reason they kept going back to my childhood, wanting to talk about me growing up with an alcoholic father.
It took a very long time for me to even admit that much about my family... and going into detail about it? NO. NEVER.
But they just kept at me, and kept at me.
Denial is a funny thing. I always knew, objectively, that my family was different. When my dad was out in the field, my mom, my brother and I breathed easy - we were happy. It wasn't like that when my dad was home.
So even when my dad missed my high school and college graduations, and several birthdays, and dropped off the face of the earth for a few years - even then, I still couldn't quite admit to myself that there was a problem.
And then one December he showed up again, terribly skinny, full of apologies as usual, but this time, with a different story, something about crack cocaine.
I distinctly remember now how my mind skipped right over that part. I understand now - that's how denial works. You hear it, you can even repeat it back to someone, but you don't really believe it.
The next month, in January 2001, my grandmother received a phone call from my uncle. He was at the University Hospital trauma center downtown, and he was calling because my father had been shot.
My brother, sister-in-law, Dwayne and I rushed downtown to the hospital. Uncle Gary met us down there...he had no idea how it happened. We were sitting in the E/R waiting room when the detectives came in.
One of the detectives said, "Do you know anything about your father and his association with A? Your father was found with This Substance in his possession."
That's when my world came crashing down. I don't remember anything else the detectives said. I didn't care what they said. I was broken. I had just come to the realization that my father was an alcoholic and a drug addict.
So you'd think after an epiphany like that, something would change, right? But nothing did, really, except for maybe my perception of my world.
I sat in the hospital room for days, waiting for my dad to wake up. It took a very long time. The doctors said it took longer than it should have because they had to keep him sedated due to dt's.
My brother and I had a visit while we were waiting...from Al-Anon. It seems everyone but me knew my father had a problem. They gave us literature. I was very excited but John said he wasn't going to any groups. Oh.
When my dad woke up, I told him about all the people who had visited and all the things they said. I explained his body was clean now and the hardest part, the dt's, was over.
My dad said he wasn't an alcoholic, he could quit whenever he wanted. He said he knew what an alcoholic was, because his father was one, and he was nothing like him. Oh.
So now my dad has a bullet lodged in his back, but he's otherwise recovered. We rarely talk. It's hard to talk to someone on the phone when their speech is so slurred from drinking you can't understand what they're saying.
My brother outright refuses to speak with my father at all. I've forgiven dad for what happened in our childhood. I don't think my brother ever will.
I don't know why The Place wanted to hear things like this. It's my story, but not really. It was just a turning point in my life...when the scales fell from my eyes and I saw some things as they really were.
So it was about this time two years ago that I melted down completely and went into the mental hospital. Here's some advice if you ever find yourself in the same situation:
1. They're tricky. You're saying, I know, I don't feel good, blah blah blah, and next thing you know you're locked into a psychiatric hold and you can't leave. TIP: Be prepared.
2. They put psych patients in with the drug addicts and the alcoholics. Guess who's considered the scary ones in that bunch? You could always tell who the psych patients were in the room because no one would be sitting by them. And I can't blame people. I spent most of my time staring into space, sleeping or crying. One of the other psych patients in there with me tried to escape. From a voluntary check-in! TIP: Stay away from the psych patients. Unless you are one. Then, sorry. :(
3. The days go by with excruciating slowness punctuated by meetings, doctor visits, group therapy, checkups, yoga, meditation, ART TIME. I stayed in my room and slept through meetings, therapy, yoga and meditation, until they finally put their foot down and said I had to go to art time. Which was fabulously fun. Or just may have seemed that way when you've been beaten down by life and staring at the walls of a treatment facility for a few days. Whichever, the point is, art time lets you see grown adults coloring diligently around a table WITH an instructor and helps you get at your inner self. TIP: Don't miss art time!
4. The place where I stayed had a very nice kitchen. I didn't know this at first, because I refused to leave my room through two mealtimes before hunger finally drove me downstairs for supper. My fear of crowds made me very uncomfortable, but the food was great. TIP: Be ready to face your fear on a daily basis if you want to eat good. Otherwise, you'll be eating crackers.
5. Families were allowed to visit on certain days. I never missed my family so much as when I was locked in and couldn't get out. I had no laptop, no cellphone, no ebook; so I stalked my family on the public phone as much as I could. I had to take my turn, though, because everyone else was doing the same thing. The important thing was they had to come visit me on my allotted day, and bring money. Because I missed them, and snacks. TIP: STRESS to your family how important family day is, because it's really disappointing if you're one of the ones whose family doesn't show up. So that's all I've got for now...I'll tell yall later how the next two months went. Really a short time in my life, but it'll stay with me forever.
...And yes, I said she tried to escape. From a voluntary check-in. Ensuring her spot in the IV chair at the nurse's station for HOURS and then the room with the 24-hour surveillance cameras. There's crazy, and then there's CRAZY...
Top Five Reality-Check Moments After Falling Down The Stairs 1. You realize that you're on the downside of 30, which means you have no coordination and your bones are brittle. 2. Even though you have a broken leg, you still have to get back up the stairs. 3. You really have no privacy in the E/R, as evidenced by sitting out in the hallway in a wheelchair the entire time I was there, while I talked to the doctor, they medicined me, and splinted me. In the hallway. 4. All those fantasies of breaking a bone so I don't have to go to work? STUPID...I forgot that broken bones really, really hurt. 5. People come to your house to check on you no matter how messy your room is. The usual method of avoiding company by pretending you're not home isn't really an option. Where else am I gonna be with my broken leg?
My grandma's still in the hospital...last night she needed a blood transfusion. She seems to be getting sicker, the longer she's in there. I'd rather talk about how amazing my grandma is...I've covered a lot of ground here, though, so I may repeat myself. 1. My afghan. You have to see it to appreciate it. It's huge, every color of the rainbow, and some kind of complicated pattern...Moma has made many afghans over the years, but mine is the most special and beautiful thing ever. You would think I was the favorite, it's that beautiful. She loves me, and every night when I sleep under the afghan she made for me so many years ago, I'm reminded of it.
2. My books. My parents moved me away to Germany when I was ten and it devastated me to be away from my grandma, and it devastated her, too. She sent me letters, and tapes, and books... Every single book was a special, huge classic book, with an inscription inside from her telling me how much she loved me. The Little House books, Little Women, Heidi, Ballet Shoes, and more, these books still populate my bookshelf, and remind me of the time when we may have been separated by distance, but she refused to let me forget how much we loved each other. 3. Travel. I've seen so many different places, most of it thanks to my grandmother. She herself has been to 46 states and nine countries. She decides she wants to see a place and just...goes there. And sometimes, if I'm around, I'm lucky enough to get to go, too. Otherwise, I might catch her when she gets back and she says, oh, I drove to so-and-so for the week, it was great. !!! 4. Hair. I have very long, curly brown hair. My grandmother is directly responsible for this, as she kept cutting all my hair off every time she ever got me alone. You can see in photo albums from my childhood when my summer-long stays at Moma's house were, because the 'before' pictures always showed me with long tangled hair, and the 'after' pictures were always me with short hair looking like a boy, with a very sad look on my face. I rebelled at eighth grade and said no more haircuts and I meant it, I've never had short hair again. And it's all her fault.
And she is still trying to this day, I don't think a conversation goes by without her mentioning haircut this or haircut that, or how good I'd look with short hair, etc. When my grandma doesn't get her way she never stops trying until she does get her way. Every conversation, every day, forever. 5. Inspiration. She didn't go beyond the eighth grade, but she studied and got her GED. She was the daughter of a tobacco farmer, born and raised in the holler, and she married and divorced and at twenty-two was a single mom. She made the hard decision to leave the babies with her mom while she left the holler and went north to work, and then when she had made enough to buy a house, she moved the babies and her mom up north to Louisville to live. My grandma was the original working, single mom, way before it became fashionable. She's the strongest person I know. Yes, we just have to remember that...she's the strongest person we know.
Yesterday was both much better than I expected, in some ways...but the news we got from the doctor wasn't as glowing as I wanted! Her surgery was at the Children's Hospital, which we've never been to before...and now I refuse to go anywhere else! Is is made especially for children, and it's all about making them comfortable, easing their fears, etc. It was perfect! The last time she had to get an IV she cried and cried...but yesterday, she barely knew it was happening, the RN doing it was so good. AND they let her take Purr (stuffed kitty) back into surgery with her...they even gave Purr a matching hospital bracelet to go on her paw, with her name on it! My daughter was thrilled by that one... The doctor came out after the surgery and let us know that there were layers of layers of gunk that she hadn't expected...and that she found a tiny hole on the edge of the graft (that had repaired the previous hole)...and lots of granulation tissue (whatever that is, I didn't think to ask so now I'll have to remember to ask at the follow-up appointment!). As she's not sure that the infection's completely gone, C will have to take eardrops for five more days, and oral medicine for another week, and then go back in for a checkup, and then they'll see if the tiny hole is still there...and if it is, she may need additional surgery to repair that. And wow, we were NOT expecting to hear 'additional surgery' yesterday, that really bummed us out for a while... So then we brought her home and she laid in bed for the rest of the day and we waited on her hand and foot, because the nurses at the hospital told her that we would (Thanks, nurses, I appreciate that! LOL)... At the hospital, a whole troop of our family was there, me, and D, my mom, and my grandparents, and our preacher from church... And when we got home, phone calls from my brother, my aunt, and her friends, checking on her... And a balloon bouquet from my friends at work arrived at the door for her - that was thrilling! She also came out of this with the new 'Incredibles' DVD (D bought that for her...). I'm very grateful to have such a support system of people who love my daughter, it means so much to me. p.s. As for how she's doing now...she was very pale the rest of the day...so pale it really had us worried and we kept trying to push food down here so as to get our rosy-cheeked girl back...she cried and cried last night with the eardrops, which the doctor had told us to expect they would sting a little...she's also having some bloody drainage which really freaked her out but she's a lot better now after I talked her down...this morning she was MUCH better, still a little wobbly-legged but back to rosy cheeks, no drainage, no fever, and so I sent her off to school. She's doing great!
Today is hospital day! I've been so nervous about this day for weeks, and now that today is here, I'm perfectly calm...the nerves seem to have finally caught up with my daughter, instead! She's been assuring me for weeks that today was "no big deal"...but last night and this morning she's REALLY started to get nervous...maybe only one of us can be nervous at a time! I'm dreadfully behind I'm on my journaling, I'm kind of hoping I'll get a chance to do it today after we get back home and I get her tucked safely into bed... She's wondering if she can take her "Purr" (stuffed kitty) into surgery with her...I've assured her I'll keep Purr safe until it's over, and then she'll have her in recovery... Now I'm going to go get in the shower and get ready for our trip downtown and only envisioning best case scenarios today!
I had to take my mom to the E/R Friday night, as she started having terrible pain and pressure...she knew right away it was a kidney stone, since she's had one before. It took the doctors and nurses several more hours and labs and scans and tests before they also came to that conclusion and finally injected her with some awesome pain medicine, gave her a prescription for more, and sent us on our way... I've been watching lots of ER lately on TNT and so I half expected some beautiful doctors and nurses to be taking care of us, but no...they were just regular people. How disappointing! LOL! My daughter was a big hit, she had taken her drawing pad and pen to work on her comic books (that's her current project, she's back making comic books)...all the doctors and nurses and patients had to stop by and take a look and praise her work... Mom's okay, although she's still very uncomfortable...she's drinking lots of of water and taking lots of pain pills. Hopefully she'll pass it this weekend. I hope hope hope... D and I went and saw 'Sideways' tonight...it was so good! Except that I left the movie theater with such an urge to go and buy an expensive bottle of wine, so that I could have some idea of what they were talking about in the movie (I know nothing about wine...first of all, I'm from Kentucky, we're famous for Bourbon and Whiskey, we don't do wine!...and secondly, I don't drink anyway...). But other than feeling a little out of the loop on the wine thing (well, actually, I guess you could say I'm out of the loop on the whole alcohol thing!), it was such a good movie...all about love. I'm definitely a romantic...if there's any kind of love in a movie, that's what I pick up on and think about. I guess you could say I LOVE love!
When I was at the hospital Friday to see my aunt, the rest of the family left and it was just us and my cousin, Amy. We left my aunt while the nurses came in to help her, ostensibly to go downstairs, but really to go to the waiting room and talk about things we couldn't talk about in front of her. We settled down on the waiting room couch, me on the right, Amy on the left, and my mom in front of us. And while Amy gave us the updates, I couldn't help but think about how thankful I was, to Amy, and to my aunt, for being in my life, and how often through the years Amy and I had slouched, in those same positions, next to each other on a couch, through good times and bad. We were born within a month of each other, and were always together growing up, interrupted only by my frequent moves around the world as an Army brat. When I came back home for good in 1986, we were best friends. All through middle school and high school, we were a constant presence in each other's house. She always wanted to come to mine, because it was cleaner, and I always wanted to go to hers, because there was less supervision. I spent days on end at her house...I was my aunt's fourth daughter, and she was my second mom, only without the constant monitoring I got from my real mom! Amy and I were with each other when we learned our grandmother had died, and again when our grandfather died. We got in trouble all through high school together. Courtesy of Amy, who fixed me up with my first boyfriend, I got my first kiss...and also my Junior Ring Dance date with a different guy, when I no longer had a boyfriend! We continued in this vein, through a lot of ups and downs and tragedies, and through my one girl and her three boys, not seeing each other nearly as often, but, when we do talk on the phone or see each other, as comfortable and comforting as always. I'm so proud of her for what she's accomplished. Also a little worried, as most of the burdens of this are falling on her shoulders, even though she has two sisters. It's Amy who always goes to every doctor visit with my aunt and uncle, because she acts as their interpreter (my aunt and uncle are deaf). I could tell she was unraveling there, in the waiting room, even as she made us laugh as usual. You know one of those people who can always make you laugh? That's Amy. So anyway, I felt that one moment of grace when I was sitting there, as usual, beside my lifelong best friend, who saved my life many times as I was growing up. Tears, and uncertainty, but also grace, which hopefully she felt as well. I know she'll always be there for me, and I will always be there for her. Here we are, circa 1973:
Thank you all so much for the kind words and prayers, you have no idea how much it meant to me that you were thinking about and praying for us. I'm truly grateful.
My aunt is home from the hospital and things are okay...she had surgery while she was in there, and lots of tests, and still no clear answers. But she is feeling better, and so we're thankful, and still praying. We're going down to my mom's (and grandma's and aunt's) hometown down in the mountains of eastern Kentucky this weekend. For Decoration. Or, to the kids, for the vacation where the whole family hangs out by the pool for a few days, except on Sunday when we go to the family cemetery in the holler and decorate great-grandparent's and great-great-grandparent's and countless aunts', uncles', and cousins' graves. The new twist to this story in the past couple of years is that both my aunt (the one who just got out of the hospital) and my mom have put up their tombstones already there, next to my great-grandparents. My mom and my aunt are still alive, but we can stand now over their gravesite. I understand, them wanting to get this taken care of so we don't have to when the time comes. But it was such a shock the first year, walking up that hill to Ma and Pa's graves and coming across my mother's. I cried. That time will come soon enough without a reminder, you know? But I'm thankful my mother was there to comfort me, just like she always has been.
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...
I just got in from staying the night at the hospital with my aunt, who's been there since Sunday. We're all taking turns so she won't be there by herself, and last night was my turn. We still don't know what's wrong with her, just waiting... Now I have to get in the shower, go pick up my daughter from my grandparents' house, take her to camp, and then go to work. I have one hour to do all this. So of course I'm writing in my journal! Can I just say that I love Willie Nelson?
