Dear Jordy,
Twenty three months ago you changed our lives. Most people don't realize that one action can change everything. In Chaos Theory it is called the Butterfly Effect. In your case it was a larger action, but an action all the same. In January of 2013 there was a soccer tournament in Beaverton. It should have been a very routine first tournament of the season. My son Kyle was set to start for the A team under a new coach. He was excited and I was nervous. I don't usually get nervous but that day I was. I stayed back in the truck to pray for both teams because I felt strongly that something was going to happen. You are a very aggressive player. This can be good at times, but frustration and aggression can be a dangerous combination. You were frustrated in the first half and I told those around me that if the ref didn't start controlling the game you were going to hurt someone. In the second half Kyle was playing very well. So well that the coach did not pull him as he planned. He was going to give him a rest but decided that a few more minutes wouldn't hurt since he was having such a great game. I only looked away for a minute. I greeted a friend. When I turned back a player was down on the field. I didn't see the hit when it happened. I saw it later on video. A late hit, a hard hit with no whistle from the ref. It took me a second to realize that it was my son down. Usually when he is hurt he doesn't like to have attention on him. He will get back up then signal the coach that he needs a sub. He didn't get up that day. He couldn't get up. He heard four distinct pops as he went down. He had to pretty much be carried to the truck. This is a nightmare for a soccer player. Especially one that worked hard year round because he wanted to be the best he could be. He didn't expect a big scholarship, but he had hoped for a small one to a small school so that he could continue playing the game he loves. Those dreams didn't die that day. On that day there was still hope.
The next time we played your team you went out of your way to make fun of him. You and your friends pretended to kick one another and held your knees saying "oh my ACL, my ACL". This is what has made me angry. The hit was part of soccer. It happens. Refs let games go, players get hurt--it happens every day. The cruelty and disrespect were what stayed with me. The thought that you could leave another player with deep scars that he will carry forever and not even apologize or wish him well in his recovery. Did you ever give any thought to your actions?
Luckily Kyle is an amazing person with a big heart and a genuine love for the game. He couldn't get back on the field but he did attend practices and games with his teams, cheered them on and gave support. He first hoped to be back on the field his Junior year. He was recovering well when a wrong move tore his graft. He was bummed and blamed himself. The next surgery was done to get him back for his senior year. It had to be done in two stages which meant two surgeries and twice as much pain. He did everything right, worked hard and believed there was still a chance to play. He did get to play three games. He could only play partial games because they wanted him to come back slowly. He looked good, he felt good--in the fourth game it tore again. He knew his senior year was not lost as well as any hope for a small scholarship. We took him to a new surgeon to find out why the grafts weren't taking. He was hit harder in the initial injury than anyone had guessed. The MCL was damaged which meant that any ACL that was attached would fail because it wasn't getting the support it needed. He went through three surgeries and lost two hamstrings before this diagnosis was made. Yesterday he went in for the fourth time. They could not do it all in one surgery which means a fifth surgery will happen in 2015. You have probably forgotten all about that fast kid that you took out in 2013, but he hasn't forgotten you. He has pretty much forgiven you because he has a big heart. He just wishes that you would have told him you were sorry. Now his ordeal will continue. It will be almost two and half years from the injury when he goes in for his final surgery. It will take another two years to heal. The next surgery is more invasive than any of the prior surgeries and much more painful.
He has changed direction. He will study physical therapy and sports medicine. He will help players with sports injuries. Maybe he will be able to get many of them back on the field where he wants to be. He will coach someday as well and will be an excellent coach. He will not only teach the game but teach sportsmanship and compassion also. Soccer isn't just about winning and losing. It is a game that is supposed to teach you life skills. You may not have had the right coach for those qualities. For that I am sorry. Kyle has had awesome coaches who were great role models.
Today I am going to let go completely of anything that I have held onto. Any animosity that I have felt towards you, the ref, your coach and the powers that be that came together that day. His coach needs to let go of his guilt for not pulling him out sooner. I need to let go of my guilt for not knowing that my sense of dread was aimed directly at my son. What could we have done differently? The outcome is what it is. We have learned and we have grown. I pray that you will learn and grow as well. I hope that as you graduate this year and go out into the world that you will learn other ways to vent your anger and frustrations. I pray that you will learn to be caring and compassionate. I want good things for you in the future just as I want good things for everyone. Your actions broke my heart but I underestimated my son's strength and determination. He is a fighter and will make it through all of this a stronger person with his own scars to show future patients~he's been there, he can relate. He lost a dream, but realized that there are other dreams. Life isn't always fair, but there are always new possibilities.
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Friday, December 5, 2014
Hooked on a Feeling
I believe that I have mentioned in a post or two before that I have Monkey Brain. That is what my mediation teacher told me. My brain is busy constantly which can be exhausting. That is why I need to meditate more, but that's another story. My monkey brain keeps me awake some nights. It is hard to sleep when you are juggling so many different thoughts. Last night I was plagued by a song that wouldn't stop playing in my head. Does that happen to everyone. A song will just start playing and won't shut the hell up.
Sometimes my memory fails me. I can remember phone numbers of at least three of my childhood friends and maybe even my grandparents. I can remember the names of grade school teachers, kids who only lived in the area shortly, the lyrics of thousands of songs, but I can't remember the cell phone numbers of my own children. I lose words sometimes. I will be talking and it will be a normal every day word that stops me in my tracks. Something like coincidence or compare. I have to stop in the middle of a sentence and actually think.
Somewhere in my brain there is a store room filled with song lyrics. Something will start playing on the radio and I can sing along. Ask me to sing it without the music and I may only know a word or two. Sometimes, like last night a song that I haven't heard for years will high jack my brain for no apparent reason. I was able to do at least one verse of that song. You must remember it--Blue Suede--1974. Ooga Chaka, Ooga Chaka, Ooga-Ooga-Ooga Chaka. I I I I I'm Hooked on a Feeling (bomp bod da ba) High on Believing (bomp bod da ba) that I'm in love with you........ I picture myself in Pam and Shelly Kerber's basement singing along at the top of my voice. Nine years old and independent as Hell. I really thought I could sing too. I didn't know what "tone deaf" meant! As soon as I typed in "Pam and Shelly Kerber's basement" more songs came into my head--The Locomotion, One Tin Soldier and another song sitting on the periphery of my memory teasing me with the words motion and ocean. Of course I am Googling like mad--hoping to find it before it drives me crazy. "Girl I'd like to know where you got the motion, girl I'd like to know where you got the motion--rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby, rock the boat, don't tip the boat over, rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby". Okay--Google found it. My nine year old self did not know the word notion. It is "So I'd like to know where you got the notion". No motion, no girl, just rocking the boat like a ship on the ocean. I don't even remember a band called the Hues Corporation. It seems this is another 1974 song under that lovely genre of disco.
My husband and I have a different take on music because he is interested in the music portion which is important, but I am all about the lyrics. There are a few songs that I admit are very catchy and get in my head even though the lyrics are not at all what I would want them to be. The one that cracks my daughter up is Buck Cherry's "Crazy Bitch". If you don't know it, Google the lyrics. Just remember that it is very graphic and if you dislike cursing it isn't a good idea for you to go there. It is very inappropriate, but it has a great beat and gets stuck in my head. It sometimes lodges itself in my head at the most inopportune times. It isn't a song you want anyone to hear you singing.
For whatever reason there are songs out there that repel me. I hear them and want to immediately change the station. I cannot stand "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga. Why? No clue--maybe it got stuck in there one night and my subconscious mind decided that it had enough and vetoed it for life. Anyone with children of a certain age may cringe if they hear the Barney Song. This year there is a Shutterfly commercial that has driven me insane. It is the one where they sing "I'm gonna mail myself to you.". I may have found it a little cute the first time that I heard it. By the fifth time I was over it. Now that it has played over and over since before Thanksgiving I want to shoot the TV whenever it comes on. Antone is the master of the remote, so he of course either turns it up or starts singing along to it. Would it be assault if I threw my shoes at him? Earlier this week the damn song wouldn't let me sleep. I decided to re-write it. I came up with two viable options. Instead of "Mail Myself to You" I took the liberty of changing it to "Sell Myself to You".
Version 1:
I'm gonna paint my face with makeup
I'm gonna show my stamp tramp tattoo
I'm gonna put on a short skirt and high heeled shoes
Then I'm gonna sell myself to you
Version 2:
I'm gonna shoot some crystal meth
smoke a joint and and drink a brew
I'm gonna do a line of cocaine
Then I'm gonna sell myself to you
Of course I have no idea what people do with Crystal Meth so not sure if they shoot it but for the sake of the song I decided it was valid. I could Google that, but what if my kids look at my Internet history and see me Googling Crystal Meth use. They may think that I'm getting ready to start a new fad diet. Doubtful, but you never know. As a curious writer I google a lot of weird stuff. Thank God for Google. If it wasn't for Google I may be singing the word douche in Blinded by the Light or about motion instead of notion in rock the boat. Google is also the great tool that taught me to correctly spell Ooga Chaka from Hooked on a Feeling which started this whole tirade. I may have typed Ugga Chugga!
Sometimes my memory fails me. I can remember phone numbers of at least three of my childhood friends and maybe even my grandparents. I can remember the names of grade school teachers, kids who only lived in the area shortly, the lyrics of thousands of songs, but I can't remember the cell phone numbers of my own children. I lose words sometimes. I will be talking and it will be a normal every day word that stops me in my tracks. Something like coincidence or compare. I have to stop in the middle of a sentence and actually think.
Somewhere in my brain there is a store room filled with song lyrics. Something will start playing on the radio and I can sing along. Ask me to sing it without the music and I may only know a word or two. Sometimes, like last night a song that I haven't heard for years will high jack my brain for no apparent reason. I was able to do at least one verse of that song. You must remember it--Blue Suede--1974. Ooga Chaka, Ooga Chaka, Ooga-Ooga-Ooga Chaka. I I I I I'm Hooked on a Feeling (bomp bod da ba) High on Believing (bomp bod da ba) that I'm in love with you........ I picture myself in Pam and Shelly Kerber's basement singing along at the top of my voice. Nine years old and independent as Hell. I really thought I could sing too. I didn't know what "tone deaf" meant! As soon as I typed in "Pam and Shelly Kerber's basement" more songs came into my head--The Locomotion, One Tin Soldier and another song sitting on the periphery of my memory teasing me with the words motion and ocean. Of course I am Googling like mad--hoping to find it before it drives me crazy. "Girl I'd like to know where you got the motion, girl I'd like to know where you got the motion--rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby, rock the boat, don't tip the boat over, rock the boat, don't rock the boat baby". Okay--Google found it. My nine year old self did not know the word notion. It is "So I'd like to know where you got the notion". No motion, no girl, just rocking the boat like a ship on the ocean. I don't even remember a band called the Hues Corporation. It seems this is another 1974 song under that lovely genre of disco.
My husband and I have a different take on music because he is interested in the music portion which is important, but I am all about the lyrics. There are a few songs that I admit are very catchy and get in my head even though the lyrics are not at all what I would want them to be. The one that cracks my daughter up is Buck Cherry's "Crazy Bitch". If you don't know it, Google the lyrics. Just remember that it is very graphic and if you dislike cursing it isn't a good idea for you to go there. It is very inappropriate, but it has a great beat and gets stuck in my head. It sometimes lodges itself in my head at the most inopportune times. It isn't a song you want anyone to hear you singing.
For whatever reason there are songs out there that repel me. I hear them and want to immediately change the station. I cannot stand "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga. Why? No clue--maybe it got stuck in there one night and my subconscious mind decided that it had enough and vetoed it for life. Anyone with children of a certain age may cringe if they hear the Barney Song. This year there is a Shutterfly commercial that has driven me insane. It is the one where they sing "I'm gonna mail myself to you.". I may have found it a little cute the first time that I heard it. By the fifth time I was over it. Now that it has played over and over since before Thanksgiving I want to shoot the TV whenever it comes on. Antone is the master of the remote, so he of course either turns it up or starts singing along to it. Would it be assault if I threw my shoes at him? Earlier this week the damn song wouldn't let me sleep. I decided to re-write it. I came up with two viable options. Instead of "Mail Myself to You" I took the liberty of changing it to "Sell Myself to You".
Version 1:
I'm gonna paint my face with makeup
I'm gonna show my stamp tramp tattoo
I'm gonna put on a short skirt and high heeled shoes
Then I'm gonna sell myself to you
Version 2:
I'm gonna shoot some crystal meth
smoke a joint and and drink a brew
I'm gonna do a line of cocaine
Then I'm gonna sell myself to you
Of course I have no idea what people do with Crystal Meth so not sure if they shoot it but for the sake of the song I decided it was valid. I could Google that, but what if my kids look at my Internet history and see me Googling Crystal Meth use. They may think that I'm getting ready to start a new fad diet. Doubtful, but you never know. As a curious writer I google a lot of weird stuff. Thank God for Google. If it wasn't for Google I may be singing the word douche in Blinded by the Light or about motion instead of notion in rock the boat. Google is also the great tool that taught me to correctly spell Ooga Chaka from Hooked on a Feeling which started this whole tirade. I may have typed Ugga Chugga!
Protesting Violence with Violence
As I sit on the sidelines and watch the visions of angry rioters looting and burning businesses I have to ask myself what it' all about. I mistakenly thought that we had come much further and had learned lessons from the race riots in the 60's or the Rodney King beating in the early 90's. The differing reports on what happened in Ferguson, Missouri on August 9th are confusing--it is hard to say what actually happened and who to believe. It is amazing to me how the press sways public opinion depending on how they want to spin the story. They want to sell papers, so sensationalizing any story is a win-win situation for them. They may incite violence with their words, but violence breeds more stories for them to cover. The killing of Michael Brown was the result of several decisions made by both Brown and Wilson. Somehow their actions at that particular moment in time brought a less than ideal outcome out of what seems to be a very bad situation. Was extreme force warranted? I don't know, I wasn't there. I don't put my life on the line every day. I can't say what was going on in the minds of either of them. I know that officers are trained to shoot to kill. There are times when it is necessary. I'm not sure that this is one of those times. I often wonder why suspects can't be shot in the leg or better yet shot with pepper spray. I can honestly say that I don't believe that race had anything to do with it. I also believe the ensuing riots have anything to do with Michael Brown anymore, at least not the majority of them. I have seen coverage of peaceful protests who actually are thinking of the family and wanting justice. But most have other agendas in mind.
In trying to give our children a better life have we raised a generation of young adults who believe they are entitled to certain things? What happened to respect for others? I know there are some bad officers out there, but the majority of them are awesome people who put their lives on the line daily to keep us safe. Officers are killed daily. There are those who target police officers including hate groups who like to feed the fire when an incident like Ferguson happens.
Prejudice goes many ways. When we hear it we think of whites being prejudiced against blacks. There are just as many blacks who are prejudiced against whites. We have people who are prejudiced against the police, against immigrants, against women. It is a cycle of mistrust and hate that needs to be broken. There are peaceful ways to go about creating change. Using violence to protest against violence is counter productive. I believe many of the protesters are anarchists who just want to add fuel to the fire and cause major disturbances. The looting of stores and burning of businesses in their own community is ludicrous.
I realize that people are disillusioned with the justice system; that politicians have become puppets to big corporations and that America has lost its identity. Change is needed, but the rioting across the country right now isn't solving anything. It is taking the focus away from the major issues and leaving us to clean up messes made by angry masses caught up in the mob mentality.
I'm not political enough. I try to just live and let live. I am disturbed by what I am seeing though. Change starts from within. We need to think before we speak, try to see things from all angles and remember that the media is not always accurate. We may never know the facts.
In trying to give our children a better life have we raised a generation of young adults who believe they are entitled to certain things? What happened to respect for others? I know there are some bad officers out there, but the majority of them are awesome people who put their lives on the line daily to keep us safe. Officers are killed daily. There are those who target police officers including hate groups who like to feed the fire when an incident like Ferguson happens.
Prejudice goes many ways. When we hear it we think of whites being prejudiced against blacks. There are just as many blacks who are prejudiced against whites. We have people who are prejudiced against the police, against immigrants, against women. It is a cycle of mistrust and hate that needs to be broken. There are peaceful ways to go about creating change. Using violence to protest against violence is counter productive. I believe many of the protesters are anarchists who just want to add fuel to the fire and cause major disturbances. The looting of stores and burning of businesses in their own community is ludicrous.
I realize that people are disillusioned with the justice system; that politicians have become puppets to big corporations and that America has lost its identity. Change is needed, but the rioting across the country right now isn't solving anything. It is taking the focus away from the major issues and leaving us to clean up messes made by angry masses caught up in the mob mentality.
I'm not political enough. I try to just live and let live. I am disturbed by what I am seeing though. Change starts from within. We need to think before we speak, try to see things from all angles and remember that the media is not always accurate. We may never know the facts.
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Tis The Season
I have sat in front of the computer several times over the past months. Blog ideas come and go, I start writing then lose my train of thought. I know it is the grieving process, I know that the holidays are making it worse~I just don't always have a lot of patience with myself. It is frustrating knowing what you need to do and not being able to muster the energy to actually do it. I feel like I'm waiting for something, God knows what. Life is happening around me here and now.
Here and now it seems the holidays are upon us. I struggle with them each year and seeing Christmas displays earlier and earlier doesn't help. I'm not sure what it is about Christmas that fills me with dread. I loved it as a child. I loved it when my children were little. I'm not sure when I stopped decorating. I know that I used to. Sometimes I would bake even. For those of you who know my aversion to the kitchen and all things related to cooking picturing me baking may be a stretch. It's true though. I would make sugar cookies to decorate and even attempted "No Fail Fudge". Yes--I failed but the messy goop tasted really good.
I believe it was commercialism and high expectations that made me lose my way. As the bills got higher and the Christmas list grew longer I stressed on how I was supposed to afford the holiday. There were homeless people and those struggling to even eat on a normal day and here I was worried because I couldn't afford big presents and prime rib. I lost the true meaning and I'm know I'm not alone in that. I think a lot of people have lost the meaning. Those who start filling the store shelves in August, the stores who now open up on Thanksgiving to get a jump start on sales, the lists of popular items that are going to be hard to find--they all feed the desperation of making the holidays some picture post card that should look the same for each and every red blooded American. Let's buy more high tech gadgets for our children so they can open them up in a frenzy on Christmas morning then retreat back to their rooms to live in their virtual worlds. Two of my children recently complained about how hard it is making new friends as young adults. It is hard. They do everything instantly on line so making friends with actual flesh and blood people is hard. You have to take time to grow and nurture friendships. Who has time for that?
For several years we have had a house full of people on Christmas Eve. Each year we brought gifts for the gift exchange. It was one of those deals where everyone brings a gift, you take turns choosing and can steal something from someone else when your turn comes along. It was fun for a few years--though there were a few people who griped about what they got. They felt that they brought something much better than what they ended up with. Hearing this took the fun out of it for me. I found that most of us bought gift cards and ended up trying to steal back our own gift. What is the point in that?
Last year we traveled to Idaho to see our granddaughter for Christmas. We had to cancel Christmas Eve at our house since we wouldn't be home. Instead we were with a small group of people in a big house in the woods. Snow was on the ground. In my step-son's family they have a tradition of making homemade pizzas on Christmas Eve. They make it a tradition to try to come up with the best pizza. We baked, we played board games and actually interacted with one another. There was no big gift exchange, just small gifts. It was one of our Christmas' in a long time. It made me want something more for future holidays. Old fashioned family fun and small, simple gifts. I want to create new traditions for our family, traditions that will fit our lives and make us happy. Maybe we'll make sushi, maybe we'll watch old movies--I don't know what they will be. Our family will work together to create something new. We'll have our own personal picture post card just like other families should have their own. Maybe we will include some friends who are on their own or rent a cabin on the mountain.
This year will be a hard one for me and my family. It will be the first holiday season without my dad. This explains why I want to hibernate right now. Why I want to crawl into books and live in them for hours at a time. Why I have cancelled a few plans with friends. I am grieving this year--but I also have hope. I sent out a note to the extended family. I told them that I would host Christmas Eve again this year but if I did there would be changes. We would draw names and buy small gifts that we know the other person will like. Those receiving the gifts should feel blessed by them. They are opening something that was bought with them in mind from someone who cares. I told them the kids would be decorating cookies and maybe even making ornaments. I told them that I wouldn't be at all offended if they decided not to come. I suggested that they concentrate on coming up with new traditions for their own families. Change is hard, but it can be rewarding as well.
Tis' the season of "Black Friday" riots, rude drivers, overflowing parking lots, long lines and desperate attempts to find hard to get items. It doesn't have to be that way for all of us though. It is also the season of hope, love, good cheer, cheesy movies and family--whoever you choose your family to be. You don't have to spend miserable holidays wishing for spring. Change your attitude, make your own rules and learn to make it what it was meant to be. A time for giving to others and being thankful for what we have. I know dad would have approved.
Here and now it seems the holidays are upon us. I struggle with them each year and seeing Christmas displays earlier and earlier doesn't help. I'm not sure what it is about Christmas that fills me with dread. I loved it as a child. I loved it when my children were little. I'm not sure when I stopped decorating. I know that I used to. Sometimes I would bake even. For those of you who know my aversion to the kitchen and all things related to cooking picturing me baking may be a stretch. It's true though. I would make sugar cookies to decorate and even attempted "No Fail Fudge". Yes--I failed but the messy goop tasted really good.
I believe it was commercialism and high expectations that made me lose my way. As the bills got higher and the Christmas list grew longer I stressed on how I was supposed to afford the holiday. There were homeless people and those struggling to even eat on a normal day and here I was worried because I couldn't afford big presents and prime rib. I lost the true meaning and I'm know I'm not alone in that. I think a lot of people have lost the meaning. Those who start filling the store shelves in August, the stores who now open up on Thanksgiving to get a jump start on sales, the lists of popular items that are going to be hard to find--they all feed the desperation of making the holidays some picture post card that should look the same for each and every red blooded American. Let's buy more high tech gadgets for our children so they can open them up in a frenzy on Christmas morning then retreat back to their rooms to live in their virtual worlds. Two of my children recently complained about how hard it is making new friends as young adults. It is hard. They do everything instantly on line so making friends with actual flesh and blood people is hard. You have to take time to grow and nurture friendships. Who has time for that?
For several years we have had a house full of people on Christmas Eve. Each year we brought gifts for the gift exchange. It was one of those deals where everyone brings a gift, you take turns choosing and can steal something from someone else when your turn comes along. It was fun for a few years--though there were a few people who griped about what they got. They felt that they brought something much better than what they ended up with. Hearing this took the fun out of it for me. I found that most of us bought gift cards and ended up trying to steal back our own gift. What is the point in that?
Last year we traveled to Idaho to see our granddaughter for Christmas. We had to cancel Christmas Eve at our house since we wouldn't be home. Instead we were with a small group of people in a big house in the woods. Snow was on the ground. In my step-son's family they have a tradition of making homemade pizzas on Christmas Eve. They make it a tradition to try to come up with the best pizza. We baked, we played board games and actually interacted with one another. There was no big gift exchange, just small gifts. It was one of our Christmas' in a long time. It made me want something more for future holidays. Old fashioned family fun and small, simple gifts. I want to create new traditions for our family, traditions that will fit our lives and make us happy. Maybe we'll make sushi, maybe we'll watch old movies--I don't know what they will be. Our family will work together to create something new. We'll have our own personal picture post card just like other families should have their own. Maybe we will include some friends who are on their own or rent a cabin on the mountain.
This year will be a hard one for me and my family. It will be the first holiday season without my dad. This explains why I want to hibernate right now. Why I want to crawl into books and live in them for hours at a time. Why I have cancelled a few plans with friends. I am grieving this year--but I also have hope. I sent out a note to the extended family. I told them that I would host Christmas Eve again this year but if I did there would be changes. We would draw names and buy small gifts that we know the other person will like. Those receiving the gifts should feel blessed by them. They are opening something that was bought with them in mind from someone who cares. I told them the kids would be decorating cookies and maybe even making ornaments. I told them that I wouldn't be at all offended if they decided not to come. I suggested that they concentrate on coming up with new traditions for their own families. Change is hard, but it can be rewarding as well.
Tis' the season of "Black Friday" riots, rude drivers, overflowing parking lots, long lines and desperate attempts to find hard to get items. It doesn't have to be that way for all of us though. It is also the season of hope, love, good cheer, cheesy movies and family--whoever you choose your family to be. You don't have to spend miserable holidays wishing for spring. Change your attitude, make your own rules and learn to make it what it was meant to be. A time for giving to others and being thankful for what we have. I know dad would have approved.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
The Truth About Sushi.......
This is a public service message for all of you who are not into Sushi because you "don't like raw fish". Don't worry--there are many of you who believe that is what Sushi is. It is a myth perpetuated by hamburger eating Americans who saw one type of sushi and labeled it as "raw fish". Wikipedia describes sushi as a Japanese food consisting of vinegared rice combined with other ingredients. The fancy stuff that you see on television and in magazines is not typical sushi. A common type is the rice rolled around cucumbers which would be a "cucumber roll". If you have never actually been to a sushi bar before it is worth a stop to see what comes around on the conveyor belt or what is pictured on their bright menu. You will find a variety of flavors many of which don't include any raw fish at all. Don't get me wrong--there are some of those, but they are easy to spot and can be avoided if you have a major aversion to them. I am sure that it was hard for my parents to believe that their once finicky child actually eats raw octopus and raw squid. I had the pleasure of taking them out for their only Sushi venture a couple of years ago. They agreed that the seared salmon was good and enjoyed some of the vegetable rolls. It was an experience that they enjoyed but they weren't in a hurry to do it again. Besides the raw stuff they were probably just as shocked that one of my favorites is the Egg Plant Tempura Sushi. Me eating Egg Plant? Stranger things have happened.
When I was growing up I did not want to try new foods. I knew that I liked cheeseburgers, pizza, lasagna, macaroni and cheese a few other things. I steered clear of Chinese food that looked and smelled funny and most sea foods, vegetables and Mexican food. Okay--tacos were okay, but my family makes weird tacos that consist of corned beef deep fried in corn tortillas. Maybe it is a Southern thing, who knows. I thought that was what all tacos were like! I did become a fan of yakisoba noodles and shrimp when I was in high school. This was a major step for me.
I didn't even try Chinese food until I was in my twenties. Surprise, surprise, I liked it. I was married and pregnant before I liked Mexican food. I spent three years of my life in a job where I had to go to Mexico every few months. On those trips I would find American restaurants or order re fried beans and cheese quesadillas. I was horrified that two months after my last Mexico trip for the company I became pregnant and craved Mexican food!
What does all of this have to do with Sushi? Probably not much--I'm just trying to point out that taste buds change and some foods do deserve a chance. I was able to finally eat watermelon with my dad the last week of his life. I spent my childhood reminding him how much I hated watermelon. He thought it was funny because as a very small child I would get annoyed and remind him that I had told him fifty thousand times that I hate watermelon. I love it now.
I will probably never like salmon eggs, raw eel or dozens of other offerings on the menu of a sushi bar. Thankfully there are a lot of choices and I like many of them. California rolls are safe and consist of rice, crab salad and cucumbers. They are refreshing on a hot day. Americans have gotten pretty creative in their quest to make signature sushi's so even Japanese people are surprised by some of the pairings. I myself once teased a Southern cousin that I was going to make him some Texas Sushi with Spanish Rice, pulled pork and corn. I haven't actually tried concocting that since I'm not really allowed in the kitchen much. I can see someone coming along though and inventing it.
I have had the pleasure of introducing many of my friends and family to sushi. It really is delicious. I know there are still some of you who will steer clear. Maybe you don't like rice or just the smells of the sushi bar make you nauseous. If you have avoided it until now I dare you to take a chance. Just go and try to find one thing that you like, you may be surprised. If nothing else you can make it an adventure. I have proceeded to make myself hungry. I wonder if I can talk my husband into taking me for sushi.
When I was growing up I did not want to try new foods. I knew that I liked cheeseburgers, pizza, lasagna, macaroni and cheese a few other things. I steered clear of Chinese food that looked and smelled funny and most sea foods, vegetables and Mexican food. Okay--tacos were okay, but my family makes weird tacos that consist of corned beef deep fried in corn tortillas. Maybe it is a Southern thing, who knows. I thought that was what all tacos were like! I did become a fan of yakisoba noodles and shrimp when I was in high school. This was a major step for me.
I didn't even try Chinese food until I was in my twenties. Surprise, surprise, I liked it. I was married and pregnant before I liked Mexican food. I spent three years of my life in a job where I had to go to Mexico every few months. On those trips I would find American restaurants or order re fried beans and cheese quesadillas. I was horrified that two months after my last Mexico trip for the company I became pregnant and craved Mexican food!
What does all of this have to do with Sushi? Probably not much--I'm just trying to point out that taste buds change and some foods do deserve a chance. I was able to finally eat watermelon with my dad the last week of his life. I spent my childhood reminding him how much I hated watermelon. He thought it was funny because as a very small child I would get annoyed and remind him that I had told him fifty thousand times that I hate watermelon. I love it now.
I will probably never like salmon eggs, raw eel or dozens of other offerings on the menu of a sushi bar. Thankfully there are a lot of choices and I like many of them. California rolls are safe and consist of rice, crab salad and cucumbers. They are refreshing on a hot day. Americans have gotten pretty creative in their quest to make signature sushi's so even Japanese people are surprised by some of the pairings. I myself once teased a Southern cousin that I was going to make him some Texas Sushi with Spanish Rice, pulled pork and corn. I haven't actually tried concocting that since I'm not really allowed in the kitchen much. I can see someone coming along though and inventing it.
I have had the pleasure of introducing many of my friends and family to sushi. It really is delicious. I know there are still some of you who will steer clear. Maybe you don't like rice or just the smells of the sushi bar make you nauseous. If you have avoided it until now I dare you to take a chance. Just go and try to find one thing that you like, you may be surprised. If nothing else you can make it an adventure. I have proceeded to make myself hungry. I wonder if I can talk my husband into taking me for sushi.
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
Purging Losses
Those of you who read my blogs know that sometimes I just need to purge. I will go for long times without writing and then I need to just get it out and be done with it. This has been a hard year--I need to focus on the future, so I am going to lay it all out and be done with it. Well sort of be done with it. I'm sure some things will be easier to banish than others.
Grief comes in many forms. We grieve for things that we've lost both big and small. The first thing we think of when we hear that someone is grieving is the loss of a loved one. People are harder pressed to understand when we grieve the loss of a job, a friendship, a dream or our youth. My quest for a more simple and positive life has been held back a little from several losses over the past year. The biggest of course is the loss of my father. This has affected me in ways that I wouldn't have expected. I have lost the desire to juggle several things at once and to raise my hand to volunteer for things. I have beloved volunteer gigs--I work with the high school soccer program, TOPSoccer, PNBA, Willamette Writers and usually head the reunion committee for my graduating class. I also have enjoyed my bunco groups and writing groups. I am having trouble mustering up the energy and enthusiasm to keep going with them. I will, I have a strong sense of duty and will follow through in case this is a temporary thing. I am so grateful for those who have stepped in and taken over the planning of our 30 year class reunion this summer. I needed to delegate and found very capable hands who are doing an amazing job. I just need to muster up the energy to go.
As most of you know my son was injured playing soccer in January of 2013. Kyle started playing soccer in Kindergarten. He wasn't sure if he wanted to continue with it at first. His friends played so he kept with it but didn't always like going to practice. Things changed for him when he was 12. He decided that he wanted to put everything he had into it. He made goals and worked hard to achieve them. His club coaches worked with him and were happy with his dedication and his desire to get better. He wanted to make Varsity as a freshman and letter all 4 years. He also hoped that just maybe a small college would pick him up so that he could play a few years after high school. He did fulfill his wish to play Varsity as a Freshman and would have lettered all 4 years if things had been different. After 17 months of hard work and three surgeries Kyle was excited to finally get the okay to play again. He was given the Green light and we limited his play. He was playing well in his first tournament back when he felt a familiar pop. His ACL just isn't going to allow him to play anymore. It is sad. Sad for us as parents who supported him and cheered him on and sad for him who wanted to at least play his senior year then leave the sport on his own terms. I know that there are worse things in life. He is alive, he is healthy and he is strong. He will have a wonderful life without having played soccer his junior or senior years. It is just a loss for us that we have to grieve. We have been reminded that it is God's plan for him and have been told that our sadness over this is annoying. We do have the right to grieve this small loss and the right to heal. There are many emotions tied up in these 18 months of ups and downs. We fought hard to get him the surgery and the physical therapy that he needed. In the end it wasn't meant to be. We get it, it is just bittersweet. We are sad that he has had to learn this lesson but he will be a stronger person for it. We shared a few tears after the call from the surgeon this afternoon and we had a good talk. We were prepared for this. We have had a couple of weeks to prepare since this most recent injury. Kyle loves soccer--he will help manage the team, he will help train volunteers for TOPSoccer, he will coach younger kids and he will keep loving the game.
Another loss that we are dealing with is the impending loss of my job. I absolutely loved my job and the company that I was working for. I had big dreams and high hopes. The economy, changes in the industry and other factors made it impossible for the company to go on so it will be closing. I will miss my co-workers though I know we will all find something new. There have been many emotions these past few weeks as we prepare for the end. It is just another small loss to add to the pile.
Our son Josh will be deployed to Bahrain for a year and Kelli will move out to go to college. Nicholas will be adopting one of our dogs who will move in with him and his girlfriend. The loss of my job will necessitate me getting a new job which means I will not be able to travel to South Dakota for my brother's retirement from the Air Force. So these things are all bundled up in my grief. The good thing about grief though is that it does get easier. I have many things to look forward to and with the exception of the loss of my father, the other losses open doors to new possibilities.
Kyle is no longer looking at small colleges with men's soccer teams. This frees him up to attend his first choice college which has an awesome Bio Chemistry program. Kelli will be working towards a degree in teaching. Josh will put in his year of deployment then come back to move his family closer to friends and relatives. He will get a choice as to where he will go next. Nicholas and Hannah are enjoying life and Nick is happier than I have ever seen him. I have a job interview tomorrow. It may or may not work out, but it is an interview and with each one there is hope.
I am blessed to have an awesome support group of friends and family. They will be here as I get my sense of humor back, find a new path and discover joy again. My husband continues to love me despite some of the major flaws that I have discovered recently. There are those who make fun of Facebook, but I have a small community there who lifts my spirits as well.
Recently I went to a therapy session. I do that from time to time just to see if I've gone completely insane yet. This therapist told me that each day I need to spend a little time with my worries and my grief. She says that if they are there they deserve validation but looking at them also makes them a little less scary. There is some wisdom in this. Maybe that is why she gets paid the big bucks.
This week I will continue to work hard until the last day of my job. I will sign up for my reunion, I will do a huge spring cleaning a bit late, I will count my blessings and I will laugh. Every day I will find something to laugh about and make sure that there is someone to laugh with. I don't want to just be sitting around by myself laughing. Okay--the strange sense of humor is coming back. The writing of this blog has done it's job. Thanks for reading--sorry for the depressing parts. I will try to get back to funny soon!
Grief comes in many forms. We grieve for things that we've lost both big and small. The first thing we think of when we hear that someone is grieving is the loss of a loved one. People are harder pressed to understand when we grieve the loss of a job, a friendship, a dream or our youth. My quest for a more simple and positive life has been held back a little from several losses over the past year. The biggest of course is the loss of my father. This has affected me in ways that I wouldn't have expected. I have lost the desire to juggle several things at once and to raise my hand to volunteer for things. I have beloved volunteer gigs--I work with the high school soccer program, TOPSoccer, PNBA, Willamette Writers and usually head the reunion committee for my graduating class. I also have enjoyed my bunco groups and writing groups. I am having trouble mustering up the energy and enthusiasm to keep going with them. I will, I have a strong sense of duty and will follow through in case this is a temporary thing. I am so grateful for those who have stepped in and taken over the planning of our 30 year class reunion this summer. I needed to delegate and found very capable hands who are doing an amazing job. I just need to muster up the energy to go.
As most of you know my son was injured playing soccer in January of 2013. Kyle started playing soccer in Kindergarten. He wasn't sure if he wanted to continue with it at first. His friends played so he kept with it but didn't always like going to practice. Things changed for him when he was 12. He decided that he wanted to put everything he had into it. He made goals and worked hard to achieve them. His club coaches worked with him and were happy with his dedication and his desire to get better. He wanted to make Varsity as a freshman and letter all 4 years. He also hoped that just maybe a small college would pick him up so that he could play a few years after high school. He did fulfill his wish to play Varsity as a Freshman and would have lettered all 4 years if things had been different. After 17 months of hard work and three surgeries Kyle was excited to finally get the okay to play again. He was given the Green light and we limited his play. He was playing well in his first tournament back when he felt a familiar pop. His ACL just isn't going to allow him to play anymore. It is sad. Sad for us as parents who supported him and cheered him on and sad for him who wanted to at least play his senior year then leave the sport on his own terms. I know that there are worse things in life. He is alive, he is healthy and he is strong. He will have a wonderful life without having played soccer his junior or senior years. It is just a loss for us that we have to grieve. We have been reminded that it is God's plan for him and have been told that our sadness over this is annoying. We do have the right to grieve this small loss and the right to heal. There are many emotions tied up in these 18 months of ups and downs. We fought hard to get him the surgery and the physical therapy that he needed. In the end it wasn't meant to be. We get it, it is just bittersweet. We are sad that he has had to learn this lesson but he will be a stronger person for it. We shared a few tears after the call from the surgeon this afternoon and we had a good talk. We were prepared for this. We have had a couple of weeks to prepare since this most recent injury. Kyle loves soccer--he will help manage the team, he will help train volunteers for TOPSoccer, he will coach younger kids and he will keep loving the game.
Another loss that we are dealing with is the impending loss of my job. I absolutely loved my job and the company that I was working for. I had big dreams and high hopes. The economy, changes in the industry and other factors made it impossible for the company to go on so it will be closing. I will miss my co-workers though I know we will all find something new. There have been many emotions these past few weeks as we prepare for the end. It is just another small loss to add to the pile.
Our son Josh will be deployed to Bahrain for a year and Kelli will move out to go to college. Nicholas will be adopting one of our dogs who will move in with him and his girlfriend. The loss of my job will necessitate me getting a new job which means I will not be able to travel to South Dakota for my brother's retirement from the Air Force. So these things are all bundled up in my grief. The good thing about grief though is that it does get easier. I have many things to look forward to and with the exception of the loss of my father, the other losses open doors to new possibilities.
Kyle is no longer looking at small colleges with men's soccer teams. This frees him up to attend his first choice college which has an awesome Bio Chemistry program. Kelli will be working towards a degree in teaching. Josh will put in his year of deployment then come back to move his family closer to friends and relatives. He will get a choice as to where he will go next. Nicholas and Hannah are enjoying life and Nick is happier than I have ever seen him. I have a job interview tomorrow. It may or may not work out, but it is an interview and with each one there is hope.
I am blessed to have an awesome support group of friends and family. They will be here as I get my sense of humor back, find a new path and discover joy again. My husband continues to love me despite some of the major flaws that I have discovered recently. There are those who make fun of Facebook, but I have a small community there who lifts my spirits as well.
Recently I went to a therapy session. I do that from time to time just to see if I've gone completely insane yet. This therapist told me that each day I need to spend a little time with my worries and my grief. She says that if they are there they deserve validation but looking at them also makes them a little less scary. There is some wisdom in this. Maybe that is why she gets paid the big bucks.
This week I will continue to work hard until the last day of my job. I will sign up for my reunion, I will do a huge spring cleaning a bit late, I will count my blessings and I will laugh. Every day I will find something to laugh about and make sure that there is someone to laugh with. I don't want to just be sitting around by myself laughing. Okay--the strange sense of humor is coming back. The writing of this blog has done it's job. Thanks for reading--sorry for the depressing parts. I will try to get back to funny soon!
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
19 Days
There is one thing that my mother has asked for in the past few months. Something that to some may seem so simple to give, but to me it has been a struggle. Today on what would be their 58th wedding anniversary I will try to recall the final weeks of my fathers life and note the dates that they happened. Mom wants to remember since it happened so fast that she lost track of time. I will do my best to journal the days. I know I should have been doing it as it was happening. I couldn't bring myself to write it down. Writing it down makes it real and there are still days when I can pretend that he is lying in bed watching the news or feeding his dogs treats as he warms himself by the pellet stove. These are my memories, but I will share them in hopes that she will remember snippets of those days as well. Time has erased some of the small details but I will do my best. This may take awhile for me to do--not sure I can do it in one sitting, or even two.
Saturday, March 15th, 2014
Dad went to the Elks for their Prime Rib dinner with Mom and Nelda. He had been fighting pneumonia for several weeks and was able to finally get out and enjoy himself. The dinner was too big for him to finish that night. He took leftovers home to enjoy on Sunday.
Sunday, March 16th, 2014
I called mom and dad in the evening to check in on them. Mom told me about the dinner the night before. She and dad were just eating the leftovers. I asked to talk to dad so that I could see how he was feeling. Dad was cheerful on the phone and talked for a few minutes. He suddenly started coughing a deep and terrible cough that I had not heard before. I asked him if he was okay. He dropped the phone. I could hear him in the background and tried to call out for either him or mom to pick up the phone. As she got him water and helped him out I was forgotten. I had no choice but to hang up and try back. The phone was busy. I would have to check in on them the next day.
Monday, March 17th, 2014
It was a typical Monday at work. My friend Lori and I were checking messages and getting things caught up. I received a phone call from my brother Larry. He told me that dad was in the ER at Skyline hospital and that he had lung cancer. I was shocked. Dad had been fighting pneumonia, but he had always been so healthy. How can someone go to the ER and get diagnosed with cancer? I hung up and called Antone. I wanted him to come right away. In the meantime I cleaned up what absolutely had to be done at work because I wasn't sure when I would be coming back. My Aunt Nelda called to see if I had heard and if I was coming, they planned to transport him to The Dalles Hospital. Antone and I decided that I would go to The Dalles. He and Kelli were coaching a youth indoor soccer team that had practice that night. We decided that Kyle and I would go. We headed to The Dalles not really knowing what we would find. Mom, Dad, Nelda, Larry and Star were at the hospital when we arrived. Dad was still in the ER as they prepared a room for him. He was thirsty and hungry so we asked for coffee and a banana which he requested. He was hallucinating. He thought my Aunt Lucille was in the room, talked about my niece's dog and thought that a picture on the wall was a team of fire horses. I can't remember what it was but it wasn't anything even remotely close to what he thought he saw. I learned from mom that in the middle of the night dad got up and was looking for my Aunt Nelda. He was sure she was in the house. He was acting very strangely. At one point he was on his hands and knees with a small pocket knife trying to dig something out of the carpet. Mom couldn't think straight. She asked him if she should call an ambulance, he said no, so she decided to take him to the hospital. He fell twice, once in the house against a chair where he received a cut on his arm. She bandaged him up and attempted to get him to the jeep. He fell in the yard and it took her awhile to get him up. Her phone was dead and she didn't know our phone numbers. She didn't want to bother anyone in the middle of the night anyway and decided that she could handle it. In the emergency room they did X-Rays. The ER Doctor told my mom that it was cancer. She said it bluntly in a matter of fact way that completely caught mom off guard. She broke down and called Nelda. Lance had also been called. Lance felt completely helpless being stationed in South Dakota. Dad was finally given a room on the 3rd Floor. They made him comfortable and talked about the various tests he would go through in the coming days. He didn't want to be in the hospital. He has never liked hospitals. He lost his mom to cancer when he was only 12 and a week later he lost his grandmother. He had never spent the night in one even though he was days away from turning 81. Mom decided to stay at the hospital with Dad. Kyle and I headed back to Oregon City so that I could attend a meeting at work the next morning, then come back and do what I could to help.
Tuesday, March 18th, 2014
I headed for The Dalles late Tuesday morning. I advised the office that I would be out for awhile until I knew what would be happening with my father. The Doctors were treating his dehydration and breathing issues. He had an abnormality in his heart as well. They said that he was not strong enough for the test that they would have to do in order to diagnose the cancer. The doctor offered my mother a little hope as she told her that without a diagnosis they couldn't determine the severity of it. It could be that it wasn't cancer at all. We asked if he should be seeing a cancer specialist. They informed us that without a diagnosis we couldn't be referred to an oncologist. My Aunt Nelda, Lance and I all wondered if he should be moved to Portland. We were assured that they had a wonderful Cancer Center right there affiliated with the hospital. There was also talk of the VA Home in The Dalles. If dad needed care after the hospital he could go there for awhile. Dad had only one thing on his mind which was going home to his pellet stove and his little dogs. Mom needed to get out for awhile so I sat with dad for a couple of hours in the evening. He did not like her out of his site. He seemed lucid enough at first, but then the hallucinations started again. He woke up from a nap to find me there instead of mom. I told him that she had to run some errands but would be back soon. He then looked around and asked where we were going. It was soon clear that he was under the impression that we were traveling in a driver-less car. He had never seen one before. He wanted to know what that guy in the other car was doing. I told him I wasn't sure but he needed to learn to drive it better. He then commented on how sparse the landscape was and asked if we would be pulling over soon to get something to eat. I ordered him a chocolate shake. Chocolate shakes became the one thing we could count on him enjoying in the hospital. That night I went to White Salmon to sleep at my Aunt Nelda's house. Mom had a rough night; my usually gentle and loving father became belligerent. He cursed and swore he was going home. He was sure that his fire was going out and he needed to get back to the dogs. Mom said that the nurses were wonderful with him.
Wednesday, March 19th, 2014
The hospital days seem to melt together as long days with little answers. The doctor came once or twice a day to check in. Dad's heart had some irregularities that made it too risky to do the tests that they would need to determine the severity of the cancer--they wouldn't even say it was cancer without the conclusive tests. They could tell us there was a dark mass in his lungs and that it was large. Mom was tired from the hard night before so I spent a long night at the hospital. Mom slept in the room with dad so I caught a few uncomfortable hours on a couch in a lounge. It had windows on all sides so if felt like I was trying to sleep in a fishbowl. Dad had a better night and was eating well. There was no word on when he would be able to go home though and that is what he wanted most.
Thursday, March 20th
There was frustration about the tests that my father needed. His heart was experiencing arrhythmia--at times it was too fast and other times too slow. They were giving him medication to try to regulate it. They believed that he was not strong enough to withstand the test. Without the test we did not have a diagnosis. Meanwhile dad was making friends with all of the nurses and enjoying the chocolate milkshakes. Physical therapy gals came to get him up and around. He was restless and tired of being away from home. He was lucid and had not had any hallucinations for a few days. It was believed that the hallucinations were from dehydration. An MRI showed that his brain was clear. There was worry that the cancer had traveled there. Again, they could not call it cancer yet, but still checked to see if it had spread. The bad news was that it had spread and was in his lymph nodes. I learned that there is a lymph node in the middle of your chest. I had never really thought about it, but never pictured one there.
Friday, March 21st
Antone came to visit and brought Kyle with him. Kyle decided to spend the night with me since I was taking a break and going home for a few days. We learned that they were going to try to do the test over the weekend since it didn't look like they were going to get him regulated. Since everything seemed to be going okay at the hospital Kyle and I went to dinner and got a hotel in The Dalles so that we were close by. My hope was that in a hotel I could finally get a good nights sleep. I had spent a few nights at my Aunt's house which was great, but I wanted to be a little closer to the hospital that night. Unfortunately there was a domestic violence issue in the middle of the night at the hotel that woke everyone up. It was loud and involved the police. Needless to say my idea about getting more rest didn't really work.
Saturday, March 22nd
Dad got up today and walked around with the physical therapists. I took a video off him. He looked good and was happy. It was great to take a video of him smiling. They decided that the test would be done on Sunday and that the results would be available on Tuesday. Mom went home to shower, pick up some clothes and take a break before we left. The nights in the hospital were hard on her and she was not taking her medications. I was worried that she would be admitted soon.
Part of the problem with writing this over a number of days is that I don't feel like singling out the days today. Maybe I will actually finish it today since I have been at this for 9 days now. The memories are painful. I know that many of them are probably suppressed because the last days were some of the hardest I have ever lived.
I went home with Kyle on Saturday but came back with Antone, Kelli, Nick and Hannah on Sunday so that they could see him. He had had the test that day and came through it okay. They didn't expect the results until Tuesday at the soonest so I went home with my family.
The results showed that he did have an aggressive form of cancer that is common for people who have smoked. Dad had smoked for many years. The mass was large and in the middle of his chest. One of his lungs was not functioning well because the mass blocked the tubes that connected the top part of the lung from the bottom. The problem with waiting so long to write this is that the fine details that were so imprinted on my brain at that time are fading. I think we forget some things to protect ourselves from the pain.
I can't remember the exact days that things happened that week. I do know that my dad was released from the hospital on Tuesday, March 25th and referred to an oncologist. The hospital wanted him taken to the Veteran's Home in The Dalles to stay until they felt he was strong enough to go home. I met them at the Veteran's home on Tuesday after he had arrived. The room was sparse, he had a roommate and there really was no place for anyone to sit to visit. He hated it instantly. My parents did not realize that my mother would not be allowed to stay overnight in the home. It was some type of insurance liability and also had to do with the privacy of the roommate who was non verbal and unaware of his surroundings. My father refused to stay if my mother couldn't stay with him. He wanted to be released immediately. The director was called and they decided to let her stay for a couple of nights but no more. Dad said that he would stay the night but that was all. I didn't want his last weeks to be miserable so asked him to stay until Friday and I would work to get the house ready for him. He wouldn't agree so I called Antone and told him that I needed him to come right away to help me clean my parents house. Our friend Terrie had been coming by and doing a lot of cleaning and helped the neighbors take care of the dogs. It still needed a lot of work and I knew I couldn't do it alone.
A man from the Veteran's office in White Salmon had offered to sell us a hospital bed. I had told him that I wanted it and he was going to deliver it on Friday. He lived in the Vancouver area and would be back in White Salmon Friday. I called to see if he could bring it that night instead. It was pouring rain but he agreed. I offered $30 extra dollars for gas money. Meanwhile after my Aunt took us to dinner Antone and I got to work on the house. We had bought cleaning supplies at Walmart and stayed up all night rearranging furniture, mopping and sterilizing the house so that it would be ready for dad to come home. A family friend came and helped us for a few hours from about 10pm until Midnight. He helped us with the bigger furniture and helped to get the bed in and set up. I wanted him in the living room so that he could easily watch television and visit with people.
On Wednesday dad checked out of the Veteran's Home. He almost didn't make it one night there. He was always cold. He had spent a year in a wet, cold trench in Korea and hated being cold more than anything. His bed at the Veteran's home was right under the air conditioning vent. They were unable to get anyone to bring them extra blankets in the night. My mom took things out of his suitcase and covered him with his clothes and coat. He told her he wanted to just leave and get a hotel. Mom said it was one of her worst nights ever. That day we saw the Oncologist. He told us that dad had about six months to live, that it was stage III and inoperable. He wanted to do one dose of radiation on Friday to hopefully shrink the tumor a little and maybe buy him some time. He suggested that we call Hospice and wanted to make sure that we were able to keep him comfortable at home. We brought dad home to the clean house and his beloved dogs. He was very happy to be home. I knew that bringing him home was the right thing to do. After getting dad settled in, Antone had to head back to our family. My brother Larry was there to help and my brother Lance was on his way from South Dakota. Lance retires from the Air Force this year and had limited leave. I am so happy that he decided to come when he did. Dad thanked me for the work I had done cleaning the house and told me that I didn't have to do it. I told him that I knew I didn't have to--I wanted to. I wanted to do all that I could to make him happy and comfortable as did the rest of the family.
Mom wanted to continue sleeping by dad and brought a chair over by the bed. The dogs would not leave his side. He was in good spirits and was sure that he was going to beat it. I was trying to be organized and think ahead. I wanted to make a calendar so that we could be sure someone was there to help take care of dad at all times. I didn't want mom to be left alone. It was too hard and I wanted her to have support. Family and friends stepped up to help. Lance arrived with his wife Shenna and it was good to see the joy on dad's face.
Friday, March 28th my dad turned 81 years old. For his birthday he had a radiation treatment and a visit from Hospice. Lance grilled him some salmon for dinner and he was able to have chocolate cake. I had asked him the day before what he wanted for his birthday dinner and chocolate cake was it. Lance helped him to go upstairs to bathe and shave. My dad had a routine over the years. He would bathe at night and then watch the news in bed. He had not been able to bathe in his own tub in days and just that one luxury was one of the best birthday presents he could have. My aunts and my cousin came to see him. He enjoyed the company but tired easily.
On Saturday I left for the weekend. My step-son, his wife and our granddaughter were coming to visit for the weekend. This would be the last visit with him before his deployment to Bahrain. I hated to leave but knew that Lance, Shenna, Before I left dad asked if I thought he should go to the hospital for a few days. I asked if that was what he wanted. Going to the hospital would mean leaving Hospice Care. It was his call though, I would do anything he asked. He told me that he wanted to go to the hospital so that I could get some rest. He didn't like being an imposition. I assured him that we were getting rest and that we were fine. Larry, Star and others were there to help mom through the weekend. I still believed that we had months of this and thought that being away for a weekend would be okay. Hospice planned to come again on Monday. I planned to be back on Monday night.
The last week is a blur of memories and strong emotions. I am probably forgetting key things that my mom, brothers and others remember. Dad was eating less when I returned. Hospice ordered oxygen for him and a commode. On Monday night we had corn beef tacos which was a favorite in our family. Lance had to cut things up and feed them to him slowly. The patience and love that my brothers and my husband showed to dad that week was very moving. We expect that type of gentle caring from women, but to see these men in my life showing respect, love and compassion for my dad was a blessing in all of this. Antone lost his dad in 1990 the same way. He learned he had cancer in April and was gone at the end of May. These weeks with my dad brought back many painful memories for him. He was able to step in and help in ways that he wished he could have years before. I can't remember whether it was Monday or Tuesday, but on one of the days I was home alone with dad while everyone else was running errands. He wanted to go up and bathe. Lance had been taking him up and I wanted to be able to help him. He leaned heavily on me as we made our way up the stairs. About halfway up he had to sit down. It seemed to be a turning point for him. He couldn't believe how weak he was. He was truly surprised. He asked me to just take him back down the stairs.
We were making mom sleep in her own bed on several nights so that she could get good rest. We weren't sure how she was going to be able to handle things when Lance and I had to go back to work. Lance had to leave that Thursday and I was planning to go back to work the following Monday and drive back and forth. I was still attempting to work out a calendar with friends and family. I marked the days that I would be down and tried to fill in the rest. Star changed her schedule around so that she had Monday's off. Larry had Friday's off . We were going to make it work.
On Monday night Lance and I slept downstairs to keep an eye on dad. We both were so exhausted that we dozed off. I woke up to find dad trying to get up. Lance woke up at the same time. He talked dad into just sitting. Dad was pretty talkative and wanted to just sit and talk for awhile. We may have talked about more if we would have realized it was our last real conversation with him. It is so easy to look back and count the what if's. We were doing the best we could in a situation that we weren't prepared for.
Tuesday was hard. He was up and down a lot. Antone came that night after work to visit for awhile. He saw a difference and was worried. That night after everyone went to bed there were some complications. We had to call the Hospice Nurse in the middle of the night for help. Lance, Shenna and I were up with him and it was hard to see him in pain. It was the only time I saw him complain. All of his nurses both in the hospital and with Hospice were amazed by his kindness. He was polite and always thanked him. Even that night as he was in pain and the nurse had to hurt him a bit more to make it better he was telling her it was okay.
On Wednesday Hospice came to visit in the morning. They felt that he was declining faster than first anticipated. They believed instead of months we only had weeks. This was hard to hear. Lance and I asked for bed rails for dad since he had tried to get out of bed the night before. We didn't want him to fall our and hurt himself. They planned to deliver them on Thursday. Shortly afternoon I took my mom to the doctor. I was worried about how she was holding up with all of this and wanted to make sure she was okay health wise. We went to the store after the appointment and picked up some pajamas for dad and some softer foods that we were going to attempt to feed him since he was having trouble eating. We ordered lunch for everyone. When I called to see what everyone wanted I was told that dad seemed worse and that we should come home. We hurried home to find a notable change since just that morning. He was very quiet. Longtime friends called to say that they were coming to see him. They were a few hours away and wanted to know what flavor milkshake he liked. They planned to play a little music for him. Just two weeks earlier I had told dad in the hospital that I wanted him and his friends to play some music together when he felt up to it. I wish I could have made that happen.
Less than two hours before the friends arrived dad slipped into a coma. I didn't have the heart to call them and tell them. They were looking forward to the visit. They showed up with milkshakes and a fiddle. Dad had music played for him that evening. He tried to open his eyes a few times and made a little noise like he was trying to talk. That night Lance, Shenna and I were taught how to mix my dad's medication and give it to him through a syringe in his mouth. He had to have it every two hours. I set alarms on my phone and we slept by him so that I could administer it. Lance and Shenna left with a heavy heart the on Thursday. They didn't want to leave but we were told that he could last in the coma for a week to 10 days. Lance had used most of his leave and wanted to be able to return for the inevitable funeral. I had to go to the Antone, Larry and Star came that night to stay up to give the meds so that I could sleep 6-8 hours straight. Hospice wanted the meds given every hour that night so they had a tougher time than I did. They were exhausted by morning when I took over again. The Hospice nurse decided that a double dose every two hours would be better so I was back to the two hour regiment. Antone had to go home on Friday but planned to come back Saturday afternoon. During these final days there were visitors. I don't want anyone to think that I forgot them. His grandchildren, relatives and friends all came. Mom had a couple of people come to pray over him that last week.
One vivid memory that I have in those final days was having to leave dad to go to the drugstore. He was low on meds and they wanted to make sure I didn't run out over the weekend. I didn't want to go to the pharmacy but I had to because they knew me and would fill the prescription. When I got there the line was long. I was so upset because I didn't know how long dad had. He was in the coma and I knew every minute counted. I got in the back of the line and tried to be patient. A few minutes after I arrived I was called by the pharmacist. I was surprised because I hadn't even gotten to the front of the line to hand in the prescription yet. The pharmacist told everyone that I had an emergency and needed to get my order quickly. She came out from behind the counter and hugged me as she gave it to me. That is what happens in a small town. That act of kindness made me cry.
Friday we were told that it was very likely he would go over the weekend but it could be a week depending on his will to hang on. I noticed a change in his breathing on Friday night. It was a subtle change but I could tell that he was deeper into the coma. Larry, Star my Uncle Jeral and I stayed up with him Friday night. We wanted mom to rest because she would have to stay up with me on Sunday. I taught Star how to do the medication on Friday night so that we could have longer rest periods. Mom was having a hard time but was trying to be brave. She was receiving a lot of calls from friends and family and they gave her love and support.
On Saturday I didn't want to leave his side. Mom played music for him for awhile. I turned on some old television shows and westerns that he liked. I held his hand all day and talked to him. Antone got to the house around 3pm. He brought pizza and turned on the soccer game for us to watch. Dad's breathing changed again at about 3:50pm. Mom was close but I told her she needed to move closer and I told Antone to turn off the TV. We gathered around him. Mom and I held his hands. He opened his mouth a couple of times, a peaceful look crossed his face as he took a couple more breaths that were spread out, then a sigh that sounded like his voice. He passed away peacefully at 4pm.
We called Hospice, my brother Larry and my Aunt Nelda. When the Hospice nurse arrived mom and I helped dress him in a new pair of blue pajamas that his sisters had given him for his birthday. They matched his eyes. It was the first time he was able to wear them. We put socks on his feet because he hated to be cold. My friends from the funeral home showed up quietly. They hugged us and gently put him in the bag and took him away. It was all surreal and all too sudden. What happened to six months? We had plans, there were things left to do and say.
I could go on and on about the days following, but I have typed enough. This was for you mom. It isn't my best writing. I am not going to spell check it or read it over. I let out everything that I could for now. I love you and am proud of how our family came together to make dad's last days peaceful and how he got to stay at home. The Hospice workers were all wonderful. I have so much respect for them. It has been three months and I still can't come to grips with the fact that he is gone.
Saturday, March 15th, 2014
Dad went to the Elks for their Prime Rib dinner with Mom and Nelda. He had been fighting pneumonia for several weeks and was able to finally get out and enjoy himself. The dinner was too big for him to finish that night. He took leftovers home to enjoy on Sunday.
Sunday, March 16th, 2014
I called mom and dad in the evening to check in on them. Mom told me about the dinner the night before. She and dad were just eating the leftovers. I asked to talk to dad so that I could see how he was feeling. Dad was cheerful on the phone and talked for a few minutes. He suddenly started coughing a deep and terrible cough that I had not heard before. I asked him if he was okay. He dropped the phone. I could hear him in the background and tried to call out for either him or mom to pick up the phone. As she got him water and helped him out I was forgotten. I had no choice but to hang up and try back. The phone was busy. I would have to check in on them the next day.
Monday, March 17th, 2014
It was a typical Monday at work. My friend Lori and I were checking messages and getting things caught up. I received a phone call from my brother Larry. He told me that dad was in the ER at Skyline hospital and that he had lung cancer. I was shocked. Dad had been fighting pneumonia, but he had always been so healthy. How can someone go to the ER and get diagnosed with cancer? I hung up and called Antone. I wanted him to come right away. In the meantime I cleaned up what absolutely had to be done at work because I wasn't sure when I would be coming back. My Aunt Nelda called to see if I had heard and if I was coming, they planned to transport him to The Dalles Hospital. Antone and I decided that I would go to The Dalles. He and Kelli were coaching a youth indoor soccer team that had practice that night. We decided that Kyle and I would go. We headed to The Dalles not really knowing what we would find. Mom, Dad, Nelda, Larry and Star were at the hospital when we arrived. Dad was still in the ER as they prepared a room for him. He was thirsty and hungry so we asked for coffee and a banana which he requested. He was hallucinating. He thought my Aunt Lucille was in the room, talked about my niece's dog and thought that a picture on the wall was a team of fire horses. I can't remember what it was but it wasn't anything even remotely close to what he thought he saw. I learned from mom that in the middle of the night dad got up and was looking for my Aunt Nelda. He was sure she was in the house. He was acting very strangely. At one point he was on his hands and knees with a small pocket knife trying to dig something out of the carpet. Mom couldn't think straight. She asked him if she should call an ambulance, he said no, so she decided to take him to the hospital. He fell twice, once in the house against a chair where he received a cut on his arm. She bandaged him up and attempted to get him to the jeep. He fell in the yard and it took her awhile to get him up. Her phone was dead and she didn't know our phone numbers. She didn't want to bother anyone in the middle of the night anyway and decided that she could handle it. In the emergency room they did X-Rays. The ER Doctor told my mom that it was cancer. She said it bluntly in a matter of fact way that completely caught mom off guard. She broke down and called Nelda. Lance had also been called. Lance felt completely helpless being stationed in South Dakota. Dad was finally given a room on the 3rd Floor. They made him comfortable and talked about the various tests he would go through in the coming days. He didn't want to be in the hospital. He has never liked hospitals. He lost his mom to cancer when he was only 12 and a week later he lost his grandmother. He had never spent the night in one even though he was days away from turning 81. Mom decided to stay at the hospital with Dad. Kyle and I headed back to Oregon City so that I could attend a meeting at work the next morning, then come back and do what I could to help.
Tuesday, March 18th, 2014
I headed for The Dalles late Tuesday morning. I advised the office that I would be out for awhile until I knew what would be happening with my father. The Doctors were treating his dehydration and breathing issues. He had an abnormality in his heart as well. They said that he was not strong enough for the test that they would have to do in order to diagnose the cancer. The doctor offered my mother a little hope as she told her that without a diagnosis they couldn't determine the severity of it. It could be that it wasn't cancer at all. We asked if he should be seeing a cancer specialist. They informed us that without a diagnosis we couldn't be referred to an oncologist. My Aunt Nelda, Lance and I all wondered if he should be moved to Portland. We were assured that they had a wonderful Cancer Center right there affiliated with the hospital. There was also talk of the VA Home in The Dalles. If dad needed care after the hospital he could go there for awhile. Dad had only one thing on his mind which was going home to his pellet stove and his little dogs. Mom needed to get out for awhile so I sat with dad for a couple of hours in the evening. He did not like her out of his site. He seemed lucid enough at first, but then the hallucinations started again. He woke up from a nap to find me there instead of mom. I told him that she had to run some errands but would be back soon. He then looked around and asked where we were going. It was soon clear that he was under the impression that we were traveling in a driver-less car. He had never seen one before. He wanted to know what that guy in the other car was doing. I told him I wasn't sure but he needed to learn to drive it better. He then commented on how sparse the landscape was and asked if we would be pulling over soon to get something to eat. I ordered him a chocolate shake. Chocolate shakes became the one thing we could count on him enjoying in the hospital. That night I went to White Salmon to sleep at my Aunt Nelda's house. Mom had a rough night; my usually gentle and loving father became belligerent. He cursed and swore he was going home. He was sure that his fire was going out and he needed to get back to the dogs. Mom said that the nurses were wonderful with him.
Wednesday, March 19th, 2014
The hospital days seem to melt together as long days with little answers. The doctor came once or twice a day to check in. Dad's heart had some irregularities that made it too risky to do the tests that they would need to determine the severity of the cancer--they wouldn't even say it was cancer without the conclusive tests. They could tell us there was a dark mass in his lungs and that it was large. Mom was tired from the hard night before so I spent a long night at the hospital. Mom slept in the room with dad so I caught a few uncomfortable hours on a couch in a lounge. It had windows on all sides so if felt like I was trying to sleep in a fishbowl. Dad had a better night and was eating well. There was no word on when he would be able to go home though and that is what he wanted most.
Thursday, March 20th
There was frustration about the tests that my father needed. His heart was experiencing arrhythmia--at times it was too fast and other times too slow. They were giving him medication to try to regulate it. They believed that he was not strong enough to withstand the test. Without the test we did not have a diagnosis. Meanwhile dad was making friends with all of the nurses and enjoying the chocolate milkshakes. Physical therapy gals came to get him up and around. He was restless and tired of being away from home. He was lucid and had not had any hallucinations for a few days. It was believed that the hallucinations were from dehydration. An MRI showed that his brain was clear. There was worry that the cancer had traveled there. Again, they could not call it cancer yet, but still checked to see if it had spread. The bad news was that it had spread and was in his lymph nodes. I learned that there is a lymph node in the middle of your chest. I had never really thought about it, but never pictured one there.
Friday, March 21st
Antone came to visit and brought Kyle with him. Kyle decided to spend the night with me since I was taking a break and going home for a few days. We learned that they were going to try to do the test over the weekend since it didn't look like they were going to get him regulated. Since everything seemed to be going okay at the hospital Kyle and I went to dinner and got a hotel in The Dalles so that we were close by. My hope was that in a hotel I could finally get a good nights sleep. I had spent a few nights at my Aunt's house which was great, but I wanted to be a little closer to the hospital that night. Unfortunately there was a domestic violence issue in the middle of the night at the hotel that woke everyone up. It was loud and involved the police. Needless to say my idea about getting more rest didn't really work.
Saturday, March 22nd
Dad got up today and walked around with the physical therapists. I took a video off him. He looked good and was happy. It was great to take a video of him smiling. They decided that the test would be done on Sunday and that the results would be available on Tuesday. Mom went home to shower, pick up some clothes and take a break before we left. The nights in the hospital were hard on her and she was not taking her medications. I was worried that she would be admitted soon.
Part of the problem with writing this over a number of days is that I don't feel like singling out the days today. Maybe I will actually finish it today since I have been at this for 9 days now. The memories are painful. I know that many of them are probably suppressed because the last days were some of the hardest I have ever lived.
I went home with Kyle on Saturday but came back with Antone, Kelli, Nick and Hannah on Sunday so that they could see him. He had had the test that day and came through it okay. They didn't expect the results until Tuesday at the soonest so I went home with my family.
The results showed that he did have an aggressive form of cancer that is common for people who have smoked. Dad had smoked for many years. The mass was large and in the middle of his chest. One of his lungs was not functioning well because the mass blocked the tubes that connected the top part of the lung from the bottom. The problem with waiting so long to write this is that the fine details that were so imprinted on my brain at that time are fading. I think we forget some things to protect ourselves from the pain.
I can't remember the exact days that things happened that week. I do know that my dad was released from the hospital on Tuesday, March 25th and referred to an oncologist. The hospital wanted him taken to the Veteran's Home in The Dalles to stay until they felt he was strong enough to go home. I met them at the Veteran's home on Tuesday after he had arrived. The room was sparse, he had a roommate and there really was no place for anyone to sit to visit. He hated it instantly. My parents did not realize that my mother would not be allowed to stay overnight in the home. It was some type of insurance liability and also had to do with the privacy of the roommate who was non verbal and unaware of his surroundings. My father refused to stay if my mother couldn't stay with him. He wanted to be released immediately. The director was called and they decided to let her stay for a couple of nights but no more. Dad said that he would stay the night but that was all. I didn't want his last weeks to be miserable so asked him to stay until Friday and I would work to get the house ready for him. He wouldn't agree so I called Antone and told him that I needed him to come right away to help me clean my parents house. Our friend Terrie had been coming by and doing a lot of cleaning and helped the neighbors take care of the dogs. It still needed a lot of work and I knew I couldn't do it alone.
A man from the Veteran's office in White Salmon had offered to sell us a hospital bed. I had told him that I wanted it and he was going to deliver it on Friday. He lived in the Vancouver area and would be back in White Salmon Friday. I called to see if he could bring it that night instead. It was pouring rain but he agreed. I offered $30 extra dollars for gas money. Meanwhile after my Aunt took us to dinner Antone and I got to work on the house. We had bought cleaning supplies at Walmart and stayed up all night rearranging furniture, mopping and sterilizing the house so that it would be ready for dad to come home. A family friend came and helped us for a few hours from about 10pm until Midnight. He helped us with the bigger furniture and helped to get the bed in and set up. I wanted him in the living room so that he could easily watch television and visit with people.
On Wednesday dad checked out of the Veteran's Home. He almost didn't make it one night there. He was always cold. He had spent a year in a wet, cold trench in Korea and hated being cold more than anything. His bed at the Veteran's home was right under the air conditioning vent. They were unable to get anyone to bring them extra blankets in the night. My mom took things out of his suitcase and covered him with his clothes and coat. He told her he wanted to just leave and get a hotel. Mom said it was one of her worst nights ever. That day we saw the Oncologist. He told us that dad had about six months to live, that it was stage III and inoperable. He wanted to do one dose of radiation on Friday to hopefully shrink the tumor a little and maybe buy him some time. He suggested that we call Hospice and wanted to make sure that we were able to keep him comfortable at home. We brought dad home to the clean house and his beloved dogs. He was very happy to be home. I knew that bringing him home was the right thing to do. After getting dad settled in, Antone had to head back to our family. My brother Larry was there to help and my brother Lance was on his way from South Dakota. Lance retires from the Air Force this year and had limited leave. I am so happy that he decided to come when he did. Dad thanked me for the work I had done cleaning the house and told me that I didn't have to do it. I told him that I knew I didn't have to--I wanted to. I wanted to do all that I could to make him happy and comfortable as did the rest of the family.
Mom wanted to continue sleeping by dad and brought a chair over by the bed. The dogs would not leave his side. He was in good spirits and was sure that he was going to beat it. I was trying to be organized and think ahead. I wanted to make a calendar so that we could be sure someone was there to help take care of dad at all times. I didn't want mom to be left alone. It was too hard and I wanted her to have support. Family and friends stepped up to help. Lance arrived with his wife Shenna and it was good to see the joy on dad's face.
Friday, March 28th my dad turned 81 years old. For his birthday he had a radiation treatment and a visit from Hospice. Lance grilled him some salmon for dinner and he was able to have chocolate cake. I had asked him the day before what he wanted for his birthday dinner and chocolate cake was it. Lance helped him to go upstairs to bathe and shave. My dad had a routine over the years. He would bathe at night and then watch the news in bed. He had not been able to bathe in his own tub in days and just that one luxury was one of the best birthday presents he could have. My aunts and my cousin came to see him. He enjoyed the company but tired easily.
On Saturday I left for the weekend. My step-son, his wife and our granddaughter were coming to visit for the weekend. This would be the last visit with him before his deployment to Bahrain. I hated to leave but knew that Lance, Shenna, Before I left dad asked if I thought he should go to the hospital for a few days. I asked if that was what he wanted. Going to the hospital would mean leaving Hospice Care. It was his call though, I would do anything he asked. He told me that he wanted to go to the hospital so that I could get some rest. He didn't like being an imposition. I assured him that we were getting rest and that we were fine. Larry, Star and others were there to help mom through the weekend. I still believed that we had months of this and thought that being away for a weekend would be okay. Hospice planned to come again on Monday. I planned to be back on Monday night.
The last week is a blur of memories and strong emotions. I am probably forgetting key things that my mom, brothers and others remember. Dad was eating less when I returned. Hospice ordered oxygen for him and a commode. On Monday night we had corn beef tacos which was a favorite in our family. Lance had to cut things up and feed them to him slowly. The patience and love that my brothers and my husband showed to dad that week was very moving. We expect that type of gentle caring from women, but to see these men in my life showing respect, love and compassion for my dad was a blessing in all of this. Antone lost his dad in 1990 the same way. He learned he had cancer in April and was gone at the end of May. These weeks with my dad brought back many painful memories for him. He was able to step in and help in ways that he wished he could have years before. I can't remember whether it was Monday or Tuesday, but on one of the days I was home alone with dad while everyone else was running errands. He wanted to go up and bathe. Lance had been taking him up and I wanted to be able to help him. He leaned heavily on me as we made our way up the stairs. About halfway up he had to sit down. It seemed to be a turning point for him. He couldn't believe how weak he was. He was truly surprised. He asked me to just take him back down the stairs.
We were making mom sleep in her own bed on several nights so that she could get good rest. We weren't sure how she was going to be able to handle things when Lance and I had to go back to work. Lance had to leave that Thursday and I was planning to go back to work the following Monday and drive back and forth. I was still attempting to work out a calendar with friends and family. I marked the days that I would be down and tried to fill in the rest. Star changed her schedule around so that she had Monday's off. Larry had Friday's off . We were going to make it work.
On Monday night Lance and I slept downstairs to keep an eye on dad. We both were so exhausted that we dozed off. I woke up to find dad trying to get up. Lance woke up at the same time. He talked dad into just sitting. Dad was pretty talkative and wanted to just sit and talk for awhile. We may have talked about more if we would have realized it was our last real conversation with him. It is so easy to look back and count the what if's. We were doing the best we could in a situation that we weren't prepared for.
Tuesday was hard. He was up and down a lot. Antone came that night after work to visit for awhile. He saw a difference and was worried. That night after everyone went to bed there were some complications. We had to call the Hospice Nurse in the middle of the night for help. Lance, Shenna and I were up with him and it was hard to see him in pain. It was the only time I saw him complain. All of his nurses both in the hospital and with Hospice were amazed by his kindness. He was polite and always thanked him. Even that night as he was in pain and the nurse had to hurt him a bit more to make it better he was telling her it was okay.
On Wednesday Hospice came to visit in the morning. They felt that he was declining faster than first anticipated. They believed instead of months we only had weeks. This was hard to hear. Lance and I asked for bed rails for dad since he had tried to get out of bed the night before. We didn't want him to fall our and hurt himself. They planned to deliver them on Thursday. Shortly afternoon I took my mom to the doctor. I was worried about how she was holding up with all of this and wanted to make sure she was okay health wise. We went to the store after the appointment and picked up some pajamas for dad and some softer foods that we were going to attempt to feed him since he was having trouble eating. We ordered lunch for everyone. When I called to see what everyone wanted I was told that dad seemed worse and that we should come home. We hurried home to find a notable change since just that morning. He was very quiet. Longtime friends called to say that they were coming to see him. They were a few hours away and wanted to know what flavor milkshake he liked. They planned to play a little music for him. Just two weeks earlier I had told dad in the hospital that I wanted him and his friends to play some music together when he felt up to it. I wish I could have made that happen.
Less than two hours before the friends arrived dad slipped into a coma. I didn't have the heart to call them and tell them. They were looking forward to the visit. They showed up with milkshakes and a fiddle. Dad had music played for him that evening. He tried to open his eyes a few times and made a little noise like he was trying to talk. That night Lance, Shenna and I were taught how to mix my dad's medication and give it to him through a syringe in his mouth. He had to have it every two hours. I set alarms on my phone and we slept by him so that I could administer it. Lance and Shenna left with a heavy heart the on Thursday. They didn't want to leave but we were told that he could last in the coma for a week to 10 days. Lance had used most of his leave and wanted to be able to return for the inevitable funeral. I had to go to the Antone, Larry and Star came that night to stay up to give the meds so that I could sleep 6-8 hours straight. Hospice wanted the meds given every hour that night so they had a tougher time than I did. They were exhausted by morning when I took over again. The Hospice nurse decided that a double dose every two hours would be better so I was back to the two hour regiment. Antone had to go home on Friday but planned to come back Saturday afternoon. During these final days there were visitors. I don't want anyone to think that I forgot them. His grandchildren, relatives and friends all came. Mom had a couple of people come to pray over him that last week.
One vivid memory that I have in those final days was having to leave dad to go to the drugstore. He was low on meds and they wanted to make sure I didn't run out over the weekend. I didn't want to go to the pharmacy but I had to because they knew me and would fill the prescription. When I got there the line was long. I was so upset because I didn't know how long dad had. He was in the coma and I knew every minute counted. I got in the back of the line and tried to be patient. A few minutes after I arrived I was called by the pharmacist. I was surprised because I hadn't even gotten to the front of the line to hand in the prescription yet. The pharmacist told everyone that I had an emergency and needed to get my order quickly. She came out from behind the counter and hugged me as she gave it to me. That is what happens in a small town. That act of kindness made me cry.
Friday we were told that it was very likely he would go over the weekend but it could be a week depending on his will to hang on. I noticed a change in his breathing on Friday night. It was a subtle change but I could tell that he was deeper into the coma. Larry, Star my Uncle Jeral and I stayed up with him Friday night. We wanted mom to rest because she would have to stay up with me on Sunday. I taught Star how to do the medication on Friday night so that we could have longer rest periods. Mom was having a hard time but was trying to be brave. She was receiving a lot of calls from friends and family and they gave her love and support.
On Saturday I didn't want to leave his side. Mom played music for him for awhile. I turned on some old television shows and westerns that he liked. I held his hand all day and talked to him. Antone got to the house around 3pm. He brought pizza and turned on the soccer game for us to watch. Dad's breathing changed again at about 3:50pm. Mom was close but I told her she needed to move closer and I told Antone to turn off the TV. We gathered around him. Mom and I held his hands. He opened his mouth a couple of times, a peaceful look crossed his face as he took a couple more breaths that were spread out, then a sigh that sounded like his voice. He passed away peacefully at 4pm.
We called Hospice, my brother Larry and my Aunt Nelda. When the Hospice nurse arrived mom and I helped dress him in a new pair of blue pajamas that his sisters had given him for his birthday. They matched his eyes. It was the first time he was able to wear them. We put socks on his feet because he hated to be cold. My friends from the funeral home showed up quietly. They hugged us and gently put him in the bag and took him away. It was all surreal and all too sudden. What happened to six months? We had plans, there were things left to do and say.
I could go on and on about the days following, but I have typed enough. This was for you mom. It isn't my best writing. I am not going to spell check it or read it over. I let out everything that I could for now. I love you and am proud of how our family came together to make dad's last days peaceful and how he got to stay at home. The Hospice workers were all wonderful. I have so much respect for them. It has been three months and I still can't come to grips with the fact that he is gone.
Monday, June 30, 2014
Too Much Information Friday........
My friend Brad has encouraged us all to join him in celebrating "Too Much Information Friday" on Facebook. Fridays will be a day when you can pronounce to the world silly little facts that you may not usually share. I am capable of being the queen of "Too Much Information". The thought of sharing completely random and unnecessary tidbits crosses my mind quite often. I try hard not to act on it. The most embarrassing information is kept under wraps which some of you may find hard to believe! I have just finished reading Chelsea Handler's first 4 books and must say that compared to her I am one of the most tame, uptight people on the planet. She leaves nothing to the imagination and throws it all out there. I was highly entertained and inspired to try to let loose a little more. This won't happen overnight. All things take time and in some instances high quantities of alcohol.
This morning I was thinking about the loaded question: "How Are You Doing?". Most of us ask this of people we run into and haven't seen in awhile. The majority of them will say they are doing fine--and you? You will reply that all is fine in your world and then you can go on to talk about the weather or whatever safe topics come to mind. Some people take the question literally and give you much more than you bargained for. Some of us are very patient and kind, but others, such as my husband have a hard time standing still when acquaintances go into graphic detail about the size of the kidney stone they just passed or their arthroscopic anal probe. I've had women I barely know get descriptive about issues with their menstrual cycles or other "lady" part problems that I really would rather not know about. In my adult life I have never even considered giving my private parts names or titles. They really don't need to figure into any conversations. Don't even get me started on bodily fluids. It appears that I am squeamish when it comes to secretions that originate from inside the body. I've had people laugh and tell me they sharted. I would be mortified if I somehow ended up with a large brown stain on my underwear. I wouldn't want anyone to know. Skid marks and speaking of them should be avoided at all costs. Nursing as a profession is obiously out for me. I can actually hold it together with family members or close friends until it comes to mucus. Even typing that word makes me gag.
Of course not all detailed answers have to do with medical issues. I have heard religious, political and other rants. Most of the time I really don't mind letting people vent. It can honestly be said that I care about people and want to help anyone in any way that I can. There are a couple people in particular who I know of that cross the line on personal information though. There is one in particular that I only run into every few years. I am not alone in trying to get by undetected. I feel terrible that I want to run away and hide when they are in the immediate area. I want to be a better person--to stand and take one for the team. I t is so hard though. This person can talk without taking a breath for hours. They don't realize that your eyes are glazing over and you are looking for an exit. Every terrible thing that has ever happened to this person spews forth in great detail. You can't even get a word in edgewise. You are held prisoner to graphic accounts of terrible situations. You feel so badly but at the same time wonder if it is karma.
This morning I was thinking about the loaded question: "How Are You Doing?". Most of us ask this of people we run into and haven't seen in awhile. The majority of them will say they are doing fine--and you? You will reply that all is fine in your world and then you can go on to talk about the weather or whatever safe topics come to mind. Some people take the question literally and give you much more than you bargained for. Some of us are very patient and kind, but others, such as my husband have a hard time standing still when acquaintances go into graphic detail about the size of the kidney stone they just passed or their arthroscopic anal probe. I've had women I barely know get descriptive about issues with their menstrual cycles or other "lady" part problems that I really would rather not know about. In my adult life I have never even considered giving my private parts names or titles. They really don't need to figure into any conversations. Don't even get me started on bodily fluids. It appears that I am squeamish when it comes to secretions that originate from inside the body. I've had people laugh and tell me they sharted. I would be mortified if I somehow ended up with a large brown stain on my underwear. I wouldn't want anyone to know. Skid marks and speaking of them should be avoided at all costs. Nursing as a profession is obiously out for me. I can actually hold it together with family members or close friends until it comes to mucus. Even typing that word makes me gag.
Of course not all detailed answers have to do with medical issues. I have heard religious, political and other rants. Most of the time I really don't mind letting people vent. It can honestly be said that I care about people and want to help anyone in any way that I can. There are a couple people in particular who I know of that cross the line on personal information though. There is one in particular that I only run into every few years. I am not alone in trying to get by undetected. I feel terrible that I want to run away and hide when they are in the immediate area. I want to be a better person--to stand and take one for the team. I t is so hard though. This person can talk without taking a breath for hours. They don't realize that your eyes are glazing over and you are looking for an exit. Every terrible thing that has ever happened to this person spews forth in great detail. You can't even get a word in edgewise. You are held prisoner to graphic accounts of terrible situations. You feel so badly but at the same time wonder if it is karma.
Friday, May 30, 2014
Spin Doctor Needed......
An acquaintance once mentioned that I change jobs more often than I change my underwear. That is a bit of an exaggeration since I religiously change my underwear at least once per day. This statement has made me a bit insecure about my job history. I once dreamed of finding the right job and staying with it forever~fate had other plans. Friends try to make me feel better by telling me that I am well rounded, have vast life experience and have picked up numerous skills. Last night I tried to recount my employment history; in doing so I gave myself a massive headache and was shocked by the amount of jobs that I have held. There may be cause for concern. I attempted to count them all in my mind which was pretty much impossible since I was trying to go chronologically and kept remembering obscure jobs that I had blocked from my memory. The only thing to do was to promise myself that this morning I would sit down and type out a list and try not to faint when I saw the final number. The best way to look at it is to say that I have met a lot of amazing people through various jobs and have enjoyed the majority of them. I don't remember ever being fired. I was laid off once at a job where the company was closing forever--I was one of the last to go a few weeks before the doors closed. I could have stayed with Sunmakers, my favorite job ever, but I would have had to move my husband and pregnant self up to Seattle which was not possibly since his job was here. To the best of my memory, here is my list:
Before Turning 20:
1. Picking Beans at Dickey Farms
2. Babysitting for various people through jr high and high school
3. Snack Shack at the high school
4. Life Guard for the City of White Salmon
5. Life Guard for Clark College
6. Sales Clerk at a Sporting Good Store at Vancouver Mall
7. Possibly lasted one day as a telemarketer--I have a vague and highly unpleasant memory of this
8. Live in Nanny for a family in Vancouver
9. Waitress at T & C Restaurant in White Salmon
10. Booking Agent for Portland Night and Day
11. Cashier at Flaky Jake's
From Age 21 til Marriage at 25
12. Photo Developer at Hour Photo Lab
13. Sales Clerk in Hallmark like store at Mall 205
14. Customer Service Rep for Larger Photo Lab (loved this-they went out of business though :( )
15. Production Line for Different Large Photo Lab--worked all night so you'd have photos next day
16. Snack Counter at Movie Theater
17. Telemarketing again for a few days to help a friend--Hate it--reason I STILL hate talking on phone
18. Waitress at Farrell's
19. Receptionist and switch board operator at Moyer Theater Main Offices--left to go to Travel School
20. Receptionist/Agent in Training at a Travel Agency
From Right Before Marriage through 30's
21. Agent and Mexico Group Coordinator for a Travel Wholesaler-Favorite Job EVER we were sold :(
22. A/R person for an Office Supply Company (to get by until new job)
23. Accounting Manager at a Corporate Travel Agency---Liked a lot but left during 2nd pregnancy
24. Home Daycare Provider-----Hard Work-Not Favorite-Paid Bills with Toddlers in house
25. Group Coordinator for Summer Exchange Students--This was my longest running gig
26. After School Enrichment Class Teacher
27. Pre School Assistant Teacher in Lake Oswego
28. Booking Agent for Travel Wholesaler--didn't work with toddlers at home and newly preggo with 3rd
29. More Home Childcare
30. Community Coordinator for HS Exchange Students
31. Regional Coordinator for 2 companies at once--Summer Students and Winter Students
32. After School Program Leader for Grant Program---Grant Ended after 3 years
In my 40's
33. 2 Years of Americorps doing the Aspire Program at Colton High School
34. 1 Year Temp Job at Colton HS as Counseling Secretary---Loved it--temp position :(
35. Kinderday Leader at Holcomb Elem. for 1 year while also Homework Club Lead at Beavercreek
36. Kinderday Leader at King Elem.
37. District Sub for several years for Teacher's Assistant Position
38. Bookkeeper helper for a friend for awhile--Not my thing. :( Decent at it--hated 8 hours of numbers
39. Library Worker in Canby--Hated Working EVERY Saturday. Missed Family Time :(
39. Cashier at Target
41. Cashier at Used Furniture Store--Loved the people and old furniture--heavy lifting and weekends again
42. Assistant to a friend with a Travel Agency--She was helping me out between jobs. :)
43. Administrative Assistant at Creative Childcare Solutions currently
Okay old friends--did I forget anything? I am only 5 jobs away from my age!! This is scary. The funny thing is that besides my 17 years of working off and on with Compass USA, my longest running job is as a volunteer for PNBA. I have worked for them once or twice a year for 15 years. Not sure what I will do with this information. Maybe I will use it as a teaching tool for my children. I will tell them that if they want a decent retirement independent from their spouse they may want to think about longevity at a job. I would not recommend job hopping to anyone. Job hunting stresses me out but thankfully I have always ended up with something. This list makes it extremely difficult to form a convincing resume'. Celebrities have publicity agents or "spin doctors" that help them to "spin" things into a positive light. I need one of these to help with my resume'. Yes, I am a writer, but when it comes to attempting a resume' for myself it always seems lacking. If you are good at spinning, any help would be appreciated!!
Before Turning 20:
1. Picking Beans at Dickey Farms
2. Babysitting for various people through jr high and high school
3. Snack Shack at the high school
4. Life Guard for the City of White Salmon
5. Life Guard for Clark College
6. Sales Clerk at a Sporting Good Store at Vancouver Mall
7. Possibly lasted one day as a telemarketer--I have a vague and highly unpleasant memory of this
8. Live in Nanny for a family in Vancouver
9. Waitress at T & C Restaurant in White Salmon
10. Booking Agent for Portland Night and Day
11. Cashier at Flaky Jake's
From Age 21 til Marriage at 25
12. Photo Developer at Hour Photo Lab
13. Sales Clerk in Hallmark like store at Mall 205
14. Customer Service Rep for Larger Photo Lab (loved this-they went out of business though :( )
15. Production Line for Different Large Photo Lab--worked all night so you'd have photos next day
16. Snack Counter at Movie Theater
17. Telemarketing again for a few days to help a friend--Hate it--reason I STILL hate talking on phone
18. Waitress at Farrell's
19. Receptionist and switch board operator at Moyer Theater Main Offices--left to go to Travel School
20. Receptionist/Agent in Training at a Travel Agency
From Right Before Marriage through 30's
21. Agent and Mexico Group Coordinator for a Travel Wholesaler-Favorite Job EVER we were sold :(
22. A/R person for an Office Supply Company (to get by until new job)
23. Accounting Manager at a Corporate Travel Agency---Liked a lot but left during 2nd pregnancy
24. Home Daycare Provider-----Hard Work-Not Favorite-Paid Bills with Toddlers in house
25. Group Coordinator for Summer Exchange Students--This was my longest running gig
26. After School Enrichment Class Teacher
27. Pre School Assistant Teacher in Lake Oswego
28. Booking Agent for Travel Wholesaler--didn't work with toddlers at home and newly preggo with 3rd
29. More Home Childcare
30. Community Coordinator for HS Exchange Students
31. Regional Coordinator for 2 companies at once--Summer Students and Winter Students
32. After School Program Leader for Grant Program---Grant Ended after 3 years
In my 40's
33. 2 Years of Americorps doing the Aspire Program at Colton High School
34. 1 Year Temp Job at Colton HS as Counseling Secretary---Loved it--temp position :(
35. Kinderday Leader at Holcomb Elem. for 1 year while also Homework Club Lead at Beavercreek
36. Kinderday Leader at King Elem.
37. District Sub for several years for Teacher's Assistant Position
38. Bookkeeper helper for a friend for awhile--Not my thing. :( Decent at it--hated 8 hours of numbers
39. Library Worker in Canby--Hated Working EVERY Saturday. Missed Family Time :(
39. Cashier at Target
41. Cashier at Used Furniture Store--Loved the people and old furniture--heavy lifting and weekends again
42. Assistant to a friend with a Travel Agency--She was helping me out between jobs. :)
43. Administrative Assistant at Creative Childcare Solutions currently
Okay old friends--did I forget anything? I am only 5 jobs away from my age!! This is scary. The funny thing is that besides my 17 years of working off and on with Compass USA, my longest running job is as a volunteer for PNBA. I have worked for them once or twice a year for 15 years. Not sure what I will do with this information. Maybe I will use it as a teaching tool for my children. I will tell them that if they want a decent retirement independent from their spouse they may want to think about longevity at a job. I would not recommend job hopping to anyone. Job hunting stresses me out but thankfully I have always ended up with something. This list makes it extremely difficult to form a convincing resume'. Celebrities have publicity agents or "spin doctors" that help them to "spin" things into a positive light. I need one of these to help with my resume'. Yes, I am a writer, but when it comes to attempting a resume' for myself it always seems lacking. If you are good at spinning, any help would be appreciated!!
Thursday, May 29, 2014
In Search of.............
Once, long ago, I was actually described by someone as passionate. That seems so foreign to me now. In a world full of mortgages, college tuition, car payments and a ton of other bills I find myself mired in the drudgery of penny pinching and worrying that I will drop one of the many balls that I am juggling. I wish that I could say that I was an expert at one thing, but the truth is that I am average at best when it comes to most everything I do. I'm not trying to sell myself short, I am trying to see myself clearly so that I can move forward in life. It is said that if you find the one thing in life that you are passionate about and pursue it, you can make it into your career. I am 48 and have never actually had a career. I have worked many jobs~some I have loved and some were just to get me by. The ones that I have truly loved have disappeared by either the company being sold or by grant money running out. It was always my intention to find a job that I loved and keep it forever. That hasn't worked for me. My current job is one of those instances. I love it. It utilizes my unique skill set and keeps me engaged. I swear I have A.D.D. so keeping me engaged is important. I don't like to be bored at work. Anyone who has ever been bored at work will tell you that it makes the days drag by. The company is going to be sold. I completely understand. My boss has been doing this for fifteen years and it has become more trouble than it is worth to her. She is ready to make a big change and focus more on family. It is bittersweet for me because even though I am thrilled that she will be starting a new chapter in her life, it means that I will be back to trying to find the right fit. That is why my brain is trying to fathom just what it is that I am passionate about. I guess you could say that I am passionate about my family, my dog (sadly only one of the three if I'm honest), my friends, good books, hard cider and chocolate. Writing should be in there but I have been going through a very dry spell lately and it needs to find its way back onto the list. Writing is one thing that I do well when I take the time to actually do it. Juggling bills and schedules sometimes exhausts me to the point that there is no energy left to write.
I always pictured myself with a cozy little bookstore where people could come to chat, browse and hopefully buy once in awhile. There would be classes and meetings and people would be welcome to drink a cup of coffee and read a good book on their lunch hours. Small independent books stores are becoming extinct though. In order to pay those bills and keep the family afloat I have to actually bring home a paycheck. My small bookstore would have to have some other angle to it that would bring in money because the books themselves can be bought easily from the comfort of your own home on Amazon. There is also the fact that I am a creative person and therefore lack a few essential qualities of running a successful business. I would need a strong partner who isn't as warm, welcoming and accommodating as me. Someone who understands money and how to make it. I know how to spend it--frugally of course.
While this pipe dream winds its way through my brain, it doesn't really help with the question of what is next for me. I have several months before I need to make any decisions. I believe my job is secure until the end of the year. That could change. Maybe someone will come along, buy the company and decide that our awesome team of employees is worth keeping . We are a great team which makes it even harder. I love what I do and who I work with.
Several friends are at a crossroads in their lives as well. It is too bad that we can't come up with a business plan that would work for all of us. While most people are counting sheep I am categorizing possible career choices. If only I were younger. Casting director, funeral director, personal assistant, event coordinator, book buyer............heavy sigh. My goal this year is to find my passion, it can't be gone, just misplaced. I'm sure it is under a couch cushion, in the back of my closet or in a box in the attic. The answers will come, the right opportunity will present itself and all will be harmonious again. I need to remember to stay positive. In the meantime I'll keep daydreaming and wondering if anyone besides me would frequent a cider bar that sells books and chocolate?
I always pictured myself with a cozy little bookstore where people could come to chat, browse and hopefully buy once in awhile. There would be classes and meetings and people would be welcome to drink a cup of coffee and read a good book on their lunch hours. Small independent books stores are becoming extinct though. In order to pay those bills and keep the family afloat I have to actually bring home a paycheck. My small bookstore would have to have some other angle to it that would bring in money because the books themselves can be bought easily from the comfort of your own home on Amazon. There is also the fact that I am a creative person and therefore lack a few essential qualities of running a successful business. I would need a strong partner who isn't as warm, welcoming and accommodating as me. Someone who understands money and how to make it. I know how to spend it--frugally of course.
While this pipe dream winds its way through my brain, it doesn't really help with the question of what is next for me. I have several months before I need to make any decisions. I believe my job is secure until the end of the year. That could change. Maybe someone will come along, buy the company and decide that our awesome team of employees is worth keeping . We are a great team which makes it even harder. I love what I do and who I work with.
Several friends are at a crossroads in their lives as well. It is too bad that we can't come up with a business plan that would work for all of us. While most people are counting sheep I am categorizing possible career choices. If only I were younger. Casting director, funeral director, personal assistant, event coordinator, book buyer............heavy sigh. My goal this year is to find my passion, it can't be gone, just misplaced. I'm sure it is under a couch cushion, in the back of my closet or in a box in the attic. The answers will come, the right opportunity will present itself and all will be harmonious again. I need to remember to stay positive. In the meantime I'll keep daydreaming and wondering if anyone besides me would frequent a cider bar that sells books and chocolate?
Monday, March 24, 2014
Finding Middle Ground
As usual, this may be random, disjointed and sound like it was written by someone with A.D.D.. It was--I am taking a few minutes to clear out the clutter in my head from this last week so that I can wake up tomorrow and be ready for what it brings.
I grew up as the middle child so being in the middle is pretty typical for me. I have spent my life as the peace keeper, the diplomat, the neutral party or whatever other term there is for the "middle man". Sometimes I choose to be in the middle but more often times than not I just find myself there. Being in the middle this past week was probably one of the hardest things that I have had to endure in my life so far.
My Aunt has three "coffee table" books on her beautiful coffee table. I couldn't really tell you what the bottom two are. I know the title of the one on top though. It is called "Women to be Reckoned With". She enjoys stories of strong women who helped tame the west. I jokingly, or maybe not so jokingly tell her that the book should be about her and her three sisters. If you have ever seen Steel Magnolias or any other movies with strong, opinionated Southern women, then you can picture my aunts. My dad is the oldest of 5. He has three younger sisters who adore him and therefore will fight tooth and nail to make sure that he is getting the attention and care that he needs.
As the adult daughter of stubborn parents it isn't easy reassuring everyone that things are under control. My parents are adults themselves and are able to make their own decisions. I have no legal right to overturn any of those decisions. We all have the freedom of choice though our choices may not be understood by all. In the end the choices we make are the one thing that we truly own and they have to be made because they are what is best for us personally whether it is the popular opinion or not.
My father entered the hospital last week with what we thought was complications from pneumonia. We quickly learned that it was more than likely cancer that was making him so sick. No one is ready for an out of the blue cancer announcement. My dad has always been healthy. Until now he had never spent one night in a hospital. Though he was a smoker for years he has spent the past several trying to exercise and stay healthy. His diminished size and sudden weakness was hard for all of us to take. The decision was made by the hospital in White Salmon to send him to The Dalles. Some people did not agree with that decision. They believed the best care was in Portland and if he were to go to Portland things would have gone more quickly as far as getting his biopsy and getting the answers. I respected the doctor in The Dalles and believe that she did things in my dad's best interest. She wanted him a bit more stable before doing the biopsy. When it was apparent that his overall health was not rapidly improving the decision was made. I believe that the cancer has been in his lungs for several months. Waiting a few days for the biopsy was hard on all of us, but in the long run it isn't going to make or break what is or isn't. They know there are cancerous tumors in my father's lungs. They know that my father is too weak for most treatments at this time. Maybe by this time tomorrow we will have the pathology report that tells us what stage he is in and how aggressive his cancer is. It doesn't do any good to wonder if the cigarettes caused the cancer, why it wasn't caught sooner or whether he would be better off anywhere else right now. He is where he wants to be for the most part. He actually wants to be home. I can't blame him. He has endured a lot of poking and prodding this week.
My brother sent me a link called Lung Cancer 101 this morning. It was highly informative and stated that most lung cancer is not detected right away. Once detected it is usually in stage 3 or 4. It quietly grows and takes over while you are either oblivious or thinking it is something much more minor. Two weeks ago I thought pneumonia was bad--now I wish we had that diagnosis again.
Being in the middle has left me bombarded with questions, opinions, frustrations, guilt, anger, sorrow and a list of possible outcomes. I have done my best to sort through things, answer the questions I can, give assurances that all is in control and secretly hope that I am advocating for what my father wants and not for anyone else's agenda. There are those who will say that he is too sick to know what he wants. I beg to differ. He is sick, he is weak, but he is also stubborn. When we get the answers tomorrow I will ask him what he wants. He will be given a voice and choices. I will make sure that he is heard and that he is comfortable, happy and safe.
Days in the hospital are long. The clock moves so slowly as we sit and wait for answers that we may not want to hear. I am trying to keep the faith. A few more years would be nice. Another beach trip, a jam session with friends, that long talked about trip to Texas to visit family or to Nashville for the music.....so many moments I hope to have. He just wants to be home with his wife and his dogs relaxing and living his simple life in familiar surroundings. I always wanted bigger things for my parents than they aspired for. Maybe they have had the right idea the whole time though. Peace, quiet, love and happiness, what more could anyone really want? The answer for now is time.........
I grew up as the middle child so being in the middle is pretty typical for me. I have spent my life as the peace keeper, the diplomat, the neutral party or whatever other term there is for the "middle man". Sometimes I choose to be in the middle but more often times than not I just find myself there. Being in the middle this past week was probably one of the hardest things that I have had to endure in my life so far.
My Aunt has three "coffee table" books on her beautiful coffee table. I couldn't really tell you what the bottom two are. I know the title of the one on top though. It is called "Women to be Reckoned With". She enjoys stories of strong women who helped tame the west. I jokingly, or maybe not so jokingly tell her that the book should be about her and her three sisters. If you have ever seen Steel Magnolias or any other movies with strong, opinionated Southern women, then you can picture my aunts. My dad is the oldest of 5. He has three younger sisters who adore him and therefore will fight tooth and nail to make sure that he is getting the attention and care that he needs.
As the adult daughter of stubborn parents it isn't easy reassuring everyone that things are under control. My parents are adults themselves and are able to make their own decisions. I have no legal right to overturn any of those decisions. We all have the freedom of choice though our choices may not be understood by all. In the end the choices we make are the one thing that we truly own and they have to be made because they are what is best for us personally whether it is the popular opinion or not.
My father entered the hospital last week with what we thought was complications from pneumonia. We quickly learned that it was more than likely cancer that was making him so sick. No one is ready for an out of the blue cancer announcement. My dad has always been healthy. Until now he had never spent one night in a hospital. Though he was a smoker for years he has spent the past several trying to exercise and stay healthy. His diminished size and sudden weakness was hard for all of us to take. The decision was made by the hospital in White Salmon to send him to The Dalles. Some people did not agree with that decision. They believed the best care was in Portland and if he were to go to Portland things would have gone more quickly as far as getting his biopsy and getting the answers. I respected the doctor in The Dalles and believe that she did things in my dad's best interest. She wanted him a bit more stable before doing the biopsy. When it was apparent that his overall health was not rapidly improving the decision was made. I believe that the cancer has been in his lungs for several months. Waiting a few days for the biopsy was hard on all of us, but in the long run it isn't going to make or break what is or isn't. They know there are cancerous tumors in my father's lungs. They know that my father is too weak for most treatments at this time. Maybe by this time tomorrow we will have the pathology report that tells us what stage he is in and how aggressive his cancer is. It doesn't do any good to wonder if the cigarettes caused the cancer, why it wasn't caught sooner or whether he would be better off anywhere else right now. He is where he wants to be for the most part. He actually wants to be home. I can't blame him. He has endured a lot of poking and prodding this week.
My brother sent me a link called Lung Cancer 101 this morning. It was highly informative and stated that most lung cancer is not detected right away. Once detected it is usually in stage 3 or 4. It quietly grows and takes over while you are either oblivious or thinking it is something much more minor. Two weeks ago I thought pneumonia was bad--now I wish we had that diagnosis again.
Being in the middle has left me bombarded with questions, opinions, frustrations, guilt, anger, sorrow and a list of possible outcomes. I have done my best to sort through things, answer the questions I can, give assurances that all is in control and secretly hope that I am advocating for what my father wants and not for anyone else's agenda. There are those who will say that he is too sick to know what he wants. I beg to differ. He is sick, he is weak, but he is also stubborn. When we get the answers tomorrow I will ask him what he wants. He will be given a voice and choices. I will make sure that he is heard and that he is comfortable, happy and safe.
Days in the hospital are long. The clock moves so slowly as we sit and wait for answers that we may not want to hear. I am trying to keep the faith. A few more years would be nice. Another beach trip, a jam session with friends, that long talked about trip to Texas to visit family or to Nashville for the music.....so many moments I hope to have. He just wants to be home with his wife and his dogs relaxing and living his simple life in familiar surroundings. I always wanted bigger things for my parents than they aspired for. Maybe they have had the right idea the whole time though. Peace, quiet, love and happiness, what more could anyone really want? The answer for now is time.........
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Well, it's Cancer.........
At the end of February they said my dad had pneumonia. At 80 years old and being somewhat frail this alarmed me. I was worried but they didn't want to hospitalize him. I couldn't understand this since every day you hear of older people dying of pneumonia. It doesn't take muck for them to get dehydrated and to decline rapidly. I needed to go visit, but couldn't. First there was the awful virus that I had which had me coughing and feeling like crap. He didn't need to be exposed to that. Then there was the super busy weekend at work that I needed to prepare for and work and the freak ice and snow storm in the gorge. All of these reasons why I couldn't drive the hour to my parents house to visit them and see how things were going. I took their word for it and worried from afar. Pneumonia isn't something to mess around with.
Sunday night I called. He sounded great for the first three quarters of our conversation. He was upbeat, sounded strong and was telling me how much better he was doing. Then the coughing started. It was a scary cough. It didn't sound like he was getting better. He dropped the phone. I yelled for him and for mom for a few minutes. I wanted to get their attention so they could pick up the phone and tell me everything was okay. They didn't pick up the phone but I could hear them talking and watching television in the background so I hung up. I tried to call back but of course the phone was off the hook and they weren't answering the cell phone. I told myself I worry too much. I could always call back Monday night and check in.
Monday morning started like all Monday mornings. A little frantic, busy at work, trying to prioritize the week and get ready for another busy weekend of events. My job as the scheduler is challenging at times with ever changing circumstances and the fine details involved. I was trying to figure out how to juggle everything to make it work when my cell phone rang. My brother was calling to tell me that dad was in the hospital and that he had lung cancer. How do things change so fast? He was home the night before getting over pneumonia. Pneumonia is curable. I just wanted him to go to the hospital, rest, get some IV fluids, find a strong enough antibiotic and be back to normal in a week or two. It is noon on Monday--how does he suddenly have cancer?
My heart breaks as I hear about him waking up in the middle of the night looking for people who weren't there and having conversations with the invisible ones who were. Hearing how he fell several times, refused to let mom call and ambulance and fell again in the yard as she talked him into going to the hospital in the car. She was in her pajamas, her phone was dead, she didn't have our numbers and didn't want to bother anyone anyway. She sat in the hospital alone and waiting. She was alone when the doctor walked in and said "well, it's cancer." Cancer wasn't on her radar. It wasn't on any one's radar. The doctor was so blunt. I know that maybe blunt is best, but a little warning would have been nice. Having support there with her would have been nice. How could I be oblivious at work? I know my brothers feel the same way. We were all hit hard by it yesterday. What happened to pneumonia? Apparently the x-rays of his lungs were hazy and they thought it was pneumonia. Further x-rays showed the truth. The proposed truth. I haven't seen them yet, I haven't talked to a doctor yet--I have so many questions.
Kyle made the trip down the gorge with me yesterday. We picked up my Aunt and headed to the hospital in The Dalles. My dad went from hallucinating to lucid and back again. He asked the nurse if there was an extra bed for me in his room. I told him I had to leave but would be back the next day. He told me not to waste the gas--he'd be home the next day. I told him fine--I would visit him at home. It was hard leaving him last night. I know I will be heading back that way in a few hours and plan to stay tonight. I am hoping for some answers. I need to know as much as possible so we can plan for the coming days, weeks, months and hopefully years. I am trying to be positive so I can squelch the dread in the pit of my stomach. His age and overall health are against us, but he is a fighter.
So many things go through your mind when you hear news that changes everything. My excuses for not visiting sounded stupid. I haven't gotten around to recording his music onto a CD--I have a cassette floating around somewhere lost. I need to have his music. I didn't appreciate it as much as I should have when I was young. There aren't enough pictures of me and him together. I want a picture of me and my dad when I was little. I know there must be several in the boxes and boxes of pictures, but there are too many and I don't have time to dig through pictures right now. I am just lost. I feel like a little girl. Helpless and scared-- I'm not ready to lose my daddy.
Sunday night I called. He sounded great for the first three quarters of our conversation. He was upbeat, sounded strong and was telling me how much better he was doing. Then the coughing started. It was a scary cough. It didn't sound like he was getting better. He dropped the phone. I yelled for him and for mom for a few minutes. I wanted to get their attention so they could pick up the phone and tell me everything was okay. They didn't pick up the phone but I could hear them talking and watching television in the background so I hung up. I tried to call back but of course the phone was off the hook and they weren't answering the cell phone. I told myself I worry too much. I could always call back Monday night and check in.
Monday morning started like all Monday mornings. A little frantic, busy at work, trying to prioritize the week and get ready for another busy weekend of events. My job as the scheduler is challenging at times with ever changing circumstances and the fine details involved. I was trying to figure out how to juggle everything to make it work when my cell phone rang. My brother was calling to tell me that dad was in the hospital and that he had lung cancer. How do things change so fast? He was home the night before getting over pneumonia. Pneumonia is curable. I just wanted him to go to the hospital, rest, get some IV fluids, find a strong enough antibiotic and be back to normal in a week or two. It is noon on Monday--how does he suddenly have cancer?
My heart breaks as I hear about him waking up in the middle of the night looking for people who weren't there and having conversations with the invisible ones who were. Hearing how he fell several times, refused to let mom call and ambulance and fell again in the yard as she talked him into going to the hospital in the car. She was in her pajamas, her phone was dead, she didn't have our numbers and didn't want to bother anyone anyway. She sat in the hospital alone and waiting. She was alone when the doctor walked in and said "well, it's cancer." Cancer wasn't on her radar. It wasn't on any one's radar. The doctor was so blunt. I know that maybe blunt is best, but a little warning would have been nice. Having support there with her would have been nice. How could I be oblivious at work? I know my brothers feel the same way. We were all hit hard by it yesterday. What happened to pneumonia? Apparently the x-rays of his lungs were hazy and they thought it was pneumonia. Further x-rays showed the truth. The proposed truth. I haven't seen them yet, I haven't talked to a doctor yet--I have so many questions.
Kyle made the trip down the gorge with me yesterday. We picked up my Aunt and headed to the hospital in The Dalles. My dad went from hallucinating to lucid and back again. He asked the nurse if there was an extra bed for me in his room. I told him I had to leave but would be back the next day. He told me not to waste the gas--he'd be home the next day. I told him fine--I would visit him at home. It was hard leaving him last night. I know I will be heading back that way in a few hours and plan to stay tonight. I am hoping for some answers. I need to know as much as possible so we can plan for the coming days, weeks, months and hopefully years. I am trying to be positive so I can squelch the dread in the pit of my stomach. His age and overall health are against us, but he is a fighter.
So many things go through your mind when you hear news that changes everything. My excuses for not visiting sounded stupid. I haven't gotten around to recording his music onto a CD--I have a cassette floating around somewhere lost. I need to have his music. I didn't appreciate it as much as I should have when I was young. There aren't enough pictures of me and him together. I want a picture of me and my dad when I was little. I know there must be several in the boxes and boxes of pictures, but there are too many and I don't have time to dig through pictures right now. I am just lost. I feel like a little girl. Helpless and scared-- I'm not ready to lose my daddy.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Random Musings
Since I re-post my blog posts onto my Facebook page I should remind people that the name of my blog page is Rediscovering, Reinventing and Rewriting......Stories, Musings and Random Babbling. With that in mind you can understand a bit more why some of my posts are pretty random and may lack direction. When I haven't written in awhile there is a lot of stuff rattling around in my head which needs to just be cleared out. Kind of like the junk and cobweb in the attic. I used to be able to sit down and mindlessly write whatever came to mind. Lately I believe I have been over thinking things. I try to be funny, serious or whatever it is I think I need to be on a given day. I need to go back to just going from the gut and not thinking much about it at all. It is Random Musing so if it doesn't flow right or make sense, no worries. It doesn't always have to!
I think I lost my sense of humor recently. I have been looking everywhere for it, but it isn't in any of the usual places. I hate taking myself seriously. I guess I am supposed to--turning 48 was surreal, I know age is just a number, but 48 is different. I need to get over the fact that I am definitely middle aged, I have been in denial until now. My early 40's didn't bug me; I felt a little more adultish but not ancient. I realize that 48 isn't ancient by any means, but it is alarmingly close to 50. I have high hopes for my 50's, but what about my 60's, 70's and 80's. I need to start getting a little more serious about those healthy changes I always daydream about making. Just yesterday I was 30 which means tomorrow I will be 60. Time flies so much faster as we age. My reading glasses have gone from helpful to necessary, I have occasional short hot flashes which are irritating and I'm starting to get a little more forgetful. It would be interesting to know how many times I actually put deodorant on in the morning. I can never quite remember if I did or not--I bet there are mornings when I put it on three times. I guess over doing it is better than not putting any on at all.
With the loss of my sense of humor I have been having to do mandatory things like work full time. I haven't done that in years. I am so sorry to all of my hard working friends and family who couldn't make time for lunch, movies or fun weekends. The time for those things is hard to find when you are working. I get it now! I love my job but am wiped out at the end of most days. I can't fill every night of the week anymore, I used to be on the go constantly. I need two or three nights to just chill out now. Crap, I'm 48--am I supposed to say chill out? I need to relax more often than before. I work occasional weekends-my free weekends are spent cleaning, doing laundry, paying bills and trying to do all of the things I used to do when I had more free time. Facebook is no longer a daily thing, blogging has become harder to accomplish once a week and I go weeks without calling people that I really need to call. I have never liked the telephone, but lately I like it even less. I need to make more of an effort to call my mom, my aunt, my mother-in-law, my two sons who don't live with me, my brothers and friends. That is a lot of people to call--I would much rather e-mail or text. My 22 year old son informed me that he was going to go ahead and visit my husband last night even though I wouldn't be home because at least my husband calls him to check in. I text--shouldn't that count? I try to put important things in my Facebook Status so that friends and family see them. I know they would rather get phone calls. I get that. I wouldn't post super important life events like births, deaths or terminal illness on there before calling certain family members and friends, but it is the fastest way to get other news out there quickly without spending endless hours on the phone saying the same thing over and over and over......I swear I am not whining, just trying to justify my preference for e-mail and social media. I know it isn't as personal. For those of you who are awaiting phone calls from me-have mercy and allow me to e-mail and text the majority of the time--please! I would like to look at my cell phone and not feel tremendous guilt for not actually using it to make phone calls. I use it as an alarm clock, the check the weather, to play Words With Friends, to check my e-mails, text my children, listen to music and occasionally to Google something. The actual phone feature is probably used the least. I have a lot of available minutes left over each month! I am digressing from my lost sense of humor. I guess I am blaming my guilty conscience for not being in touch with relatives on my increasingly grumpy moments.
Recently my daughter told me that she prefers me when I am hanging with friends relaxing and being silly. She doesn't like seeing my serious side--I am different and not much fun. I want to be fun more often but can't justify humor 24/7. I have to be somewhat grown up since I am 48 now. Not everyone is amused when I channel my 13 year old boy silliness or make sarcastic remarks. Luckily they put up with me at work. Sometimes they even laugh at my jokes. I guess I do have a bit of a sense of humor. I have to in order to cope. I handle stress best when I can laugh about it. There are those who frown and think I don't take life seriously enough. Those people need to see my super serious home side when I am trying to balance the check book or figure out how to juggle my to do list. I don't laugh at home as much as I should. Wow, I just solved the mystery--my sense of humor is somewhere in my desk at work. I will dig it out tomorrow and bring it home with me! My seriousness at home seems to stem from the guilt that I am not managing my time wisely. There are nights where I actually plop down on the couch and watch mindless television for an hour or so. I could be using that time to make phone calls, clean the house or pay bills so I don't have to waste precious weekend time doing chores. I am getting old. As a teen I would never have lumped phone calls in with chores.
I vow to quit harping on my advancing age. I will stay the same silly, random person I have always been both at work and at home. I will attempt to laugh at home at least once a day and occasionally pick up the telephone. Am I the only person who sometimes picks up my cell phone and listens for a dial tone? I really shouldn't admit to that, but it has happened more than once recently. Of course I am the only one who knows what I am doing. Others probably just think I am making a call~which is something I should do now. Since I have figured out where my sense of humor is I can stop writing and go call my mother.
I think I lost my sense of humor recently. I have been looking everywhere for it, but it isn't in any of the usual places. I hate taking myself seriously. I guess I am supposed to--turning 48 was surreal, I know age is just a number, but 48 is different. I need to get over the fact that I am definitely middle aged, I have been in denial until now. My early 40's didn't bug me; I felt a little more adultish but not ancient. I realize that 48 isn't ancient by any means, but it is alarmingly close to 50. I have high hopes for my 50's, but what about my 60's, 70's and 80's. I need to start getting a little more serious about those healthy changes I always daydream about making. Just yesterday I was 30 which means tomorrow I will be 60. Time flies so much faster as we age. My reading glasses have gone from helpful to necessary, I have occasional short hot flashes which are irritating and I'm starting to get a little more forgetful. It would be interesting to know how many times I actually put deodorant on in the morning. I can never quite remember if I did or not--I bet there are mornings when I put it on three times. I guess over doing it is better than not putting any on at all.
With the loss of my sense of humor I have been having to do mandatory things like work full time. I haven't done that in years. I am so sorry to all of my hard working friends and family who couldn't make time for lunch, movies or fun weekends. The time for those things is hard to find when you are working. I get it now! I love my job but am wiped out at the end of most days. I can't fill every night of the week anymore, I used to be on the go constantly. I need two or three nights to just chill out now. Crap, I'm 48--am I supposed to say chill out? I need to relax more often than before. I work occasional weekends-my free weekends are spent cleaning, doing laundry, paying bills and trying to do all of the things I used to do when I had more free time. Facebook is no longer a daily thing, blogging has become harder to accomplish once a week and I go weeks without calling people that I really need to call. I have never liked the telephone, but lately I like it even less. I need to make more of an effort to call my mom, my aunt, my mother-in-law, my two sons who don't live with me, my brothers and friends. That is a lot of people to call--I would much rather e-mail or text. My 22 year old son informed me that he was going to go ahead and visit my husband last night even though I wouldn't be home because at least my husband calls him to check in. I text--shouldn't that count? I try to put important things in my Facebook Status so that friends and family see them. I know they would rather get phone calls. I get that. I wouldn't post super important life events like births, deaths or terminal illness on there before calling certain family members and friends, but it is the fastest way to get other news out there quickly without spending endless hours on the phone saying the same thing over and over and over......I swear I am not whining, just trying to justify my preference for e-mail and social media. I know it isn't as personal. For those of you who are awaiting phone calls from me-have mercy and allow me to e-mail and text the majority of the time--please! I would like to look at my cell phone and not feel tremendous guilt for not actually using it to make phone calls. I use it as an alarm clock, the check the weather, to play Words With Friends, to check my e-mails, text my children, listen to music and occasionally to Google something. The actual phone feature is probably used the least. I have a lot of available minutes left over each month! I am digressing from my lost sense of humor. I guess I am blaming my guilty conscience for not being in touch with relatives on my increasingly grumpy moments.
Recently my daughter told me that she prefers me when I am hanging with friends relaxing and being silly. She doesn't like seeing my serious side--I am different and not much fun. I want to be fun more often but can't justify humor 24/7. I have to be somewhat grown up since I am 48 now. Not everyone is amused when I channel my 13 year old boy silliness or make sarcastic remarks. Luckily they put up with me at work. Sometimes they even laugh at my jokes. I guess I do have a bit of a sense of humor. I have to in order to cope. I handle stress best when I can laugh about it. There are those who frown and think I don't take life seriously enough. Those people need to see my super serious home side when I am trying to balance the check book or figure out how to juggle my to do list. I don't laugh at home as much as I should. Wow, I just solved the mystery--my sense of humor is somewhere in my desk at work. I will dig it out tomorrow and bring it home with me! My seriousness at home seems to stem from the guilt that I am not managing my time wisely. There are nights where I actually plop down on the couch and watch mindless television for an hour or so. I could be using that time to make phone calls, clean the house or pay bills so I don't have to waste precious weekend time doing chores. I am getting old. As a teen I would never have lumped phone calls in with chores.
I vow to quit harping on my advancing age. I will stay the same silly, random person I have always been both at work and at home. I will attempt to laugh at home at least once a day and occasionally pick up the telephone. Am I the only person who sometimes picks up my cell phone and listens for a dial tone? I really shouldn't admit to that, but it has happened more than once recently. Of course I am the only one who knows what I am doing. Others probably just think I am making a call~which is something I should do now. Since I have figured out where my sense of humor is I can stop writing and go call my mother.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Annoying Dog Mom
Have you ever seen one of those annoying dog mom's who talk baby talk to their dogs, treat them like humans and get offended by people thinking anything even remotely negative about their dogs? Well, I've become one of them. I didn't intend for this to happen. I was happy being the owner of a couple of dogs who are nice enough, even family members, but not connected to me as much as other dogs in the past. Last January my family coerced me into getting a puppy. I was not thrilled with the idea. I had often said that if we were ever to get another dog it would be an older rescue. I barely survived Sydney's puppy hood and there was no way in Hell I would go through that again. Like many mothers, I have a hard time saying no to my youngest. As the baby his siblings often label him as the "favorite" child and believe he has it so much better than they ever did. I don't agree with that. I believe that each child is loved and has gotten perks that the others didn't. Nicholas is my firstborn, Kelli is the only girl and much to his dismay, Kyle is the baby. His injury last January deeply upset me and made me susceptible to moments of weakness. I can only say that I must have been momentarily possessed when I agreed to a pit bull rescue puppy. I am not a stranger to pit bulls. We had a couple of very sweet ones when I was in high school. They have big hearts and are unfailingly loyal. They love with all of their being and want only to please their people. This naive desire to please is what gets them into trouble. Many dogs of this breed have been trained to fight or have been abused so badly that it is their only recourse. They have gotten a bad rap. No one looked at lovable Pete, the dog friend of the Little Rascals and claimed that he was dangerous and would probably mall one of the kids on the set. I have seen viscous dogs of all breeds. Believe me if poodles, shih tzus and chihuahuas weren't so little they would be in the headlines daily. Those little things can be mean and like to bite. Don't even get me started on mini dachshunds or mini pincher's. Pit bulls are big, they are strong, and when you run into a bad one it does more damage then other breeds. That doesn't mean that the whole breed is bad. They are completely misunderstood, labeled and unfairly hated. For this reason I was not keen on the idea of bringing one into our home. I knew all to well how neighbors would feel and the public would react to him.
As I said, I lost the battle and Rooney was picked up and brought home on a Sunday while I was at work. The dog was to be Kyle's so I didn't have any choice in which dog he would get so the family went to the shelter without me. They went to look at a puppy they had seen on line. They made the trip across the Columbia to a little shelter in Washougal, Washington. The dog that had caught their attention was spoken for but he had siblings and there were other puppies at the shelter. Rooney won their hearts and I came home to a little guy who was cuter than I wanted to admit. He was a fast learner and was soon potty trained and didn't do as much damage in chewing as I expected him to. Unlike Sydney he didn't dig giant holes in the grass, eat my shoes or wreak havoc with the neighbors. He was sad that the two older female dogs weren't readily charmed by his cuteness and didn't want to cuddle with him. He cuddled with everyone else. He was affectionate and before I knew it, I was hooked. I worried about him being in his kennel too long, I bought him toys at Ross where they are cheaper, created a toy box for him and spoiled him rotten. When no one is around I talk baby talk to him. It makes me throw up in my mouth when I realize what I'm doing, but I go on doing it. He is sweet and deserves to be loved back. He wants the world to love him. When new people come into the house it is hard to control his enthusiasm. He wants to kiss them and play with them and make them his best friends. He doesn't understand how big he is and that for most people he isn't really a lap dog. Our family has adjusted. We cuddle on the couch with him and treat him like the lap dog he believes he is. We deal with the occasional eaten sock and the "pit fits". His pit fit is when all of the sudden he just has so much energy that he picks up a toy and runs full speed through the house several times. He circles things, knocks a few things over and jumps furniture. When he is finished he drops on the floor exhausted by his efforts and gives a big loud sigh that signals that he is ready for a long nap.
My daughter informed me today that although Rooney is cute, he isn't the sharpest tool in the shed. This made me sad. I don't want anyone to think he is stupid. He is my baby. He is big, clumsy and sweet. He may chase his tail and think that the dogs on TV will come out and play with him, but he isn't a complete idiot. He can undo knots in ropes and socks, he shares his toys with Sydney by playing with it in front of her, then pushing it over to her. He does taunt her with toys at times, but that is when he is trying to get her to play.
We also have a neighbor who lives next door to the house behind us. Sometimes Rooney lifts himself up to look over the fence to see what is going on in their yard. He is super curious. He likes to get into grocery bags, boxes and laundry baskets. He just likes to see what things are and when he hears a noise in the yard he wants to investigate. The irate man came to inform us that our pit bull looks at them and that they feel threatened because they have dogs and kids. Well, we have dogs and kids. We feel completely safe. He do our best to keep Rooney away from the fence now. That neighbor doesn't deserve Rooney's curiosity. He is shortsighted and shallow minded. See--I am labeling a man I don't even know because he dared to make assumptions about my dog. I've lost it. I take pictures of him watching TV with me. We record Pit bulls and parolees every Saturday night because he loves that show. I love that show. When I first heard the title I pictured something completely different. When I watched if for the first time and learned what big hearts they had and the passion they have for the rescue work they do I was hooked. Like many on the show who adopt rescue dogs, they end up believing it was actually the dog who rescued them. Does Rooney make me a better person? Maybe. He makes me laugh, exasperates me at times and loves me with the unconditional, adoring love that only a dog can give. My children are growing up and distancing themselves from me. They are becoming their own people and asserting their independence. My motherly instincts are now focused on a 70 pound pit bull who has stolen my heart. I am not the over the top annoying dog mom, but annoying dog mom I am. :)
As I said, I lost the battle and Rooney was picked up and brought home on a Sunday while I was at work. The dog was to be Kyle's so I didn't have any choice in which dog he would get so the family went to the shelter without me. They went to look at a puppy they had seen on line. They made the trip across the Columbia to a little shelter in Washougal, Washington. The dog that had caught their attention was spoken for but he had siblings and there were other puppies at the shelter. Rooney won their hearts and I came home to a little guy who was cuter than I wanted to admit. He was a fast learner and was soon potty trained and didn't do as much damage in chewing as I expected him to. Unlike Sydney he didn't dig giant holes in the grass, eat my shoes or wreak havoc with the neighbors. He was sad that the two older female dogs weren't readily charmed by his cuteness and didn't want to cuddle with him. He cuddled with everyone else. He was affectionate and before I knew it, I was hooked. I worried about him being in his kennel too long, I bought him toys at Ross where they are cheaper, created a toy box for him and spoiled him rotten. When no one is around I talk baby talk to him. It makes me throw up in my mouth when I realize what I'm doing, but I go on doing it. He is sweet and deserves to be loved back. He wants the world to love him. When new people come into the house it is hard to control his enthusiasm. He wants to kiss them and play with them and make them his best friends. He doesn't understand how big he is and that for most people he isn't really a lap dog. Our family has adjusted. We cuddle on the couch with him and treat him like the lap dog he believes he is. We deal with the occasional eaten sock and the "pit fits". His pit fit is when all of the sudden he just has so much energy that he picks up a toy and runs full speed through the house several times. He circles things, knocks a few things over and jumps furniture. When he is finished he drops on the floor exhausted by his efforts and gives a big loud sigh that signals that he is ready for a long nap.
My daughter informed me today that although Rooney is cute, he isn't the sharpest tool in the shed. This made me sad. I don't want anyone to think he is stupid. He is my baby. He is big, clumsy and sweet. He may chase his tail and think that the dogs on TV will come out and play with him, but he isn't a complete idiot. He can undo knots in ropes and socks, he shares his toys with Sydney by playing with it in front of her, then pushing it over to her. He does taunt her with toys at times, but that is when he is trying to get her to play.
We also have a neighbor who lives next door to the house behind us. Sometimes Rooney lifts himself up to look over the fence to see what is going on in their yard. He is super curious. He likes to get into grocery bags, boxes and laundry baskets. He just likes to see what things are and when he hears a noise in the yard he wants to investigate. The irate man came to inform us that our pit bull looks at them and that they feel threatened because they have dogs and kids. Well, we have dogs and kids. We feel completely safe. He do our best to keep Rooney away from the fence now. That neighbor doesn't deserve Rooney's curiosity. He is shortsighted and shallow minded. See--I am labeling a man I don't even know because he dared to make assumptions about my dog. I've lost it. I take pictures of him watching TV with me. We record Pit bulls and parolees every Saturday night because he loves that show. I love that show. When I first heard the title I pictured something completely different. When I watched if for the first time and learned what big hearts they had and the passion they have for the rescue work they do I was hooked. Like many on the show who adopt rescue dogs, they end up believing it was actually the dog who rescued them. Does Rooney make me a better person? Maybe. He makes me laugh, exasperates me at times and loves me with the unconditional, adoring love that only a dog can give. My children are growing up and distancing themselves from me. They are becoming their own people and asserting their independence. My motherly instincts are now focused on a 70 pound pit bull who has stolen my heart. I am not the over the top annoying dog mom, but annoying dog mom I am. :)
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