Now that I have recovered enough mentally, emotionally AND physically from one of the worst things that anyone has ever done to me, I feel writing about it will help in the healing process even more. This is in no way an attempt for anyone reading this to take my side. This is just a way for me to hope maybe this will make me feel better. God knows because of the randomness, I know I will never understand it. I DEFINITELY don't expect any feedback or sympathy or especially pity. I just want to be heard.
Many of you know I was dating a guy named Ronnie Wilson. He was a friend of mine in school and because he had never done me wrong I trusted him whole-heartedly. He left his baby momma when his son was 2 months old and, skipping some details of getting together and such, we'd been dating for four months. We'd had no disagreement, no arguments, nothing but bliss.
No man had EVER treated me so well or been liked by my parents as well either. His son is two now. In the four months we've been together I have watched his son for him, discovered his son was allergic to polyester and raised him as my own. Ronnie and Logan were the first to bring out that caring instinct I'd thought had long disappeared. Ronnie would tell me more than three times a day how much he missed me and that he was excited that he'd be having a short work week at work over Christmas and New Years, but it didn't matter about the money because this all meant he could spend more time with Raigen and I over break.
Everytime his son would get to his house I would get a text saying, "Logan's been here less than five minutes and hes asking where you and Raigen are". A little over a week ago, he text me some pictures of a vacation spot and told me that was where he wanted to take me when he got his tax check. One night he was bitching about his room mates and I said, "then why don't you just move in with me?" His response was, "serious?!?! YES!! I'm falling for you Kristy. You make me so happy and I didn't think that would ever happen again. Just give me 'til February so I can give Jay notice."
I was so ecstatic. He was going to help me fix my stove, he was taking me on vacation - no man had ever wanted to do that before - he was giving me a washer and dryer, my daughter loved him as a father. He'd even asked me to help him write a book. It was my fairytale. I was finally getting what my daughter and I deserved.
Then a week and a half before Christmas, I ask him if he and Logan are coming over that following Sunday and his response is "for sure". Then nothing. That Sunday, I text him twice asking if everything was ok. No response. Then I get this jumbled message I had to decipher over Facebook that said "my phone broke." I responded with "your phone is broke? So you're not coming over?" Then nothing.
Three days later, after worrying my ass off and having a friend of mine leave messages at work for him because I just wanted to make sure he was ok and all of it just seemed weird, I finally got the nerve to stop by his house and make sure he was alive. He acted completely surprised I was there. He kissed me, hugged me over and over because he could tell I was pretty shaken up over being worried about him, goofed around for a bit, he apologized again because with todays technology there shouldn't be any excuse he couldn't have at least let me know he was ok until he got his new phone and HE was the one who said that, not me.
I had to go to work, but before I left we kissed again and I let him know my landlord approved him moving in and that he was excited I'd finally found a decent man. Ronnie said that was good. On my way out the door, he handed me a movie to watch.
I never did ask him why it was he never made it over that Sunday because his phone breaking is a pretty dumb excuse.
The next day, I'd sent him a couple texts: one "I miss you" and one "how was your day?" just our normal stuff and no response. Then I get this text that says he needs to come over and talk at 930p. I knew as soon as I read it something was wrong. I racked my brain for something I'd done wrong. I couldn't come up with anything. I fell asleep on the couch, but he showed up and he was very fidgety...
He explained to me that when Brittany came to pick Logan up the Sunday he never showed at my house, Logan tried to push his and Brittany's heads together to kiss and they did. I didn't see where this was a big deal because Raigen had done that a MILLION times when she was that age. Apparently this was enough for Ronnie to say he was leaving me because he didn't want his child growing up with his parents not being together.
I understand he's thinking he's doing it for his son. What doesn't make sense is that he's told me the stories about what Brittany has done to him. How he can't have a conversation with her because she doesn't understand some of the words he says, meaning her vocabulary is smaller than his. How she's hit him because she knows he won't hit her back. How she gets pissed because he's asked Brittany nicely not to feed Logan so much junk food and pop, but she insists on doing it anyways. I've heard even worse stories from his friends. All these horrible bad things he's told me about her, but he leaves something that is unbelievably perfect, something that would've made his son happier in the long run, for something that is going to make him miserable, something that his son is going to grow up thinking its ok for parents to treat each other the way they do.
Logan saw Ronnie and I kiss and cuddle for four months. He's GOING to think that's what people do. He doesn't understand relationships. Logan did it because he thinks that's what people do and Raigen did it as well. Ronnie's excuse was that I didn't know what it was like to grow up with divorced parents, yet he always said his Step-dad probably saved his life and he loved him to death. My daughter's parents are divorced and you could ask my ex-husband that if we hadn't gotten divorced, Raigen would not be near the great kid she is today.
My family found out about all of this over Christmas, including my ex-husband. Scott said he was sorry he actually liked the guy and that he's been through exactly what Ronnie's going through and that they won't last. If he pulled the asshole card and left Brittany when his son was 2 month old, it'll happen again, but the longer he waits, the more damage it will do to Logan. He should've just stayed with me and we could've given Logan and Raigen the lives they deserve - a STEADY household. My family said that nothing was making sense and he must be pretty fucked up in the head and it wouldn't last. They asked how much I loved him. I told them I would've taken a bullet for him. I would've sacrificed myself for him. I would've walked to the ends of the Earth for him. I've never said that about anyone in my entire life and it was because we've known each other forever and I trusted him more than I trusted myself.
Then my Grandma asks, "if he realizes how stupid he was, do you think he would come back?" My answer was no. Then she asked, "would you want him to come back?" My answer was yes. Her final question was, "would you take him back?" My answer was, "I don't feel like I am in the right state of mind to answer that at this time. I am having to go to therapy because since none of it made sense I lost my temper physically this time. My hand was the grossest thing I've ever seen and my kitchen looks like I murdered someone in it.
Here's another messed up part. I have NEVER physically lost my temper over a guy. I've always just blown it off because it's not like it's real hard for me to find someone - not trying to brag, just being honest - but Ronnie completed me- HE GOT ME...we had almost everything in common. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." He told me that I got him (understood him). Then as he walks out my door he tries to tell me he meant everything he said. How the FUCK is that possible?!?!
Instead, my daughter doesn't understand why someone who cared for me and her and told us so more than once every single day, would just leave to be miserable. I was so blindsided. Within a week it was: I'm moving in with you and falling for you and I'm happy and taking you on vacation and can't wait to treat you better than you've ever been treated before to I'm going back to a girl I left when my son was 2 months old because she was a psychopath. When I told him about how much of a liar he was he tried to tell me about how much he cared, but I interrupted and told him he better not dare patronize me because I am not a fucking idiot.
Another question pops into my mind. He left me to "whatever" with Brittany, whom his friends and himself have made fun of repetitively in the four months we dated officially, because she had his child. What if - and this is STRICTLY just a "what if" - but what if I was pregnant right now? What would he try to do then, be with both of us? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA...the look on his face if I told him that would be enough to laugh at for a lifetime. I'm sorry if some of this sounds harsh or spiteful, but things were perfect and he left that to hide behind his child instead of thoroughly thinking about how much better things would be for Logan if he was in a relationship where they didn't fight or try not to beat the hell out of each other constantly.
For the record, I don't know Brittany and I liked her. She tried getting Logan to hug me and tell me bye when Ronnie and I first started dating. It took a while for Logan to warm up to me, but that's normal in kids that age. All of this is based from what people I loved and trusted told me about her. These are NOT my assumptions.
This is not your typical Shakespeare love story tragedy...this is real life...and I understand life is a bitch and not fair, but I didn't deserve this and neither did my daughter...not so unexpectedly...not when I thought he was the most brilliant, unbiased, logical man I'd ever met...this is a story of betrayal...
What keeps me going every day, besides my daughter, is the fact that I know at some point, if he hasn't already, Logan is going to ask about Raigen and possibly even me...and Ronnie and Brittany are just going to explain that it's not going to happen anymore...just like they could've when he tried to push their heads together...
...and I still think about how I would STILL take a bullet for him...so when Brittany pulls one of her episodes I've heard about, make sure someone calls me...
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Serenity with Lois Conway: My Great Grandmother
Today (Wednesday, November 2nd) around 130pm, I was at a hiring interview for my new job when I got a phone call from my Mother. My Great Grandmother, Lois Conway, had hospice care called in for her. We only knew bits and pieces, but what we did know is that she didn't have long. I got the feeling my Mom knew I'd know what to do and that's why she called so quickly. I finished the interview, picked my daughter up from the babysitter, changed clothes and packed for a trip.
When my sister and mom got home from work, we got into my dad's car and started driving to Seymour. We weren't sure what to expect. We'd heard it was bad. We'd heard we wouldn't recognize her. We also heard she would probably be medicated to make her comfortable. We already knew she probably wouldn't remember any of us because it's been that way for 10 years. She had advanced dementia, high blood pressure, a pacemaker - you name it. We were still so proud she'd made it as long as she has. She's 90 years old. We have five generations of females alive as of right now. Not many families can say that.
When we got to the Lutheran Community Home an alarm was going off and we couldn't get in. Apparently one of the patients had tried to escape so no one could leave or enter. We called the front desk and explained we were called in to see our Grandmother. The nice lady asked what unit she was in and we didn't know, but I barely got out her first name and the nurse immediately said she'd be right there. This worried us a little. We thought maybe she'd already passed on. My mom started to panic. I told her to quit expecting the worst. I told her most likely they just felt bad it was taking them so long to get the alarm and lockdown system taken care of when we needed to see a family member as soon as possible.
We stopped at the bathroom because of all the McDonald's tea we'd drank on the way down, but I think primarily it was to gather our wits and clear our mind. I know I wanted to be rid of the preconceived notions of what we were about to encounter. Plus, I'd always had a problem with this home because it always seemed so dirty and smelled - and I was chased down the hall one time by an old lady in a wheel chair that swore I was her daughter the last time I was there, but that's another story for another time.
The building had been redone, the food and the building smelled great and the only joke made was that they probably should've consulted with my sister about the new interior design - LMAO...it helped lighten our mood. I'm sorry, but the design was just plain awful. It was like the Red & Gold Fairy had thrown up all over the place and a little Blue & Green Pixie had tried to graffiti on everything.
Anyways, we found her room and went in. She was by the window so we actually saw her roommate first. Her name was Lois as well. When we reached Grandmother's side of the room, we were in awe. She looked AMAZING! Her teeth were white as snow, she'd lost a proper amount of weight, her skin was super soft and her nails had been painted red. Her hair was the longest any of us had ever seen. She was sleeping and had a cool washcloth on her forehead which led us to believe she had a fever. I gently touched her face and she still felt warm and the washcloth on her forehead was warm too. I found another cool one and changed it for her. Her skin was so soft and felt extremely healthy.
Mom tried to wake her, but I wanted to talk to a caretaker before we tried too hard in case there was a reason we shouldn't continue trying to wake her. I went around the corner and talked to a male caretaker. I asked him if she was medicated. He said she was on a low dose of morphine every six hours or so to keep her comfortable. I asked if that was why she was so unresponsive. He said unfortunately, that had little to do with it. He said she ate pretty well yesterday, but since then she'd been almost entirely unresponsive and she hadn't eaten anything today. It was almost as if he could read my mind because the next thing he said was, "if you want to try to wake her and get her to respond that would be fine - great, in fact." I told him thank you and returned to the room and informed my mom what the caretaker had told me.
We talked to her while she slept and snored to beat the band for about 10 minutes or so until her hospice nurse came in to talk to us. She had very little to say at first, but as you all know - I took care of that. I asked if they were worried about pneumonia or if they were turning her occasionally. She said yes, they were making sure she was getting moved around and that the nurses were about to come in and do that now.
I asked about the morphine and she explained the dosage and that she could have more if we noticed she was in pain while we were there. At that time, the nurses came in to move her around so we all left the room to continue the discussion in the hall while the nurses did their jobs. One nurse told us there was a cart of food, water and coffee for us waiting outside the room and to help ourselves. Raigen jumped all over that. My mom and I were excited about the coffee - LOL.
While in the hall with the hospice nurse, she explained her and another hospice nurse were on call constantly. I started asking the harder questions. I asked what exactly the issue was. The hospice nurse said it was mostly her dementia and that it was just her time to go. She normally has high blood pressure, but now she was on the low end of normal. They'd stopped giving her all her medications - no seizure meds, no blood pressure meds, not even her diabetes medications - because at this point it wouldn't do her any good. It might even speed things up for the worst.
Then I asked it. I had to. "How long?" The hospice nurse was very professional. She said her professional opinion was that there was no way to tell for sure, but based on her unresponsiveness, she had days at most. We took it better than I expected, but as anyone can imagine it was still painful. While the hospice nurse was talking I swore I kept hearing Great Grandmother call out. By the time our hallway discussion was over, the nurses were done moving her so we went back in the room.
She looked more comfortable and she was facing the window. I walked around her bed to see her face because I noticed she wasn't snoring anymore and I jumped for joy because her eyes were open! I immediately started talking to her. I introduced myself and told her who all was there. I told her my sister had something exciting to tell her. At first we thought maybe she was out of it, but I got my sister to come around the bed by me and she told Great Grandmother she was engaged. Tracey showed her the ring and she SMILED! Tracey talked to her for a bit about how Jimmy proposed to her and when they were getting married and Grandmother just smiled and smiled and SMILED!
We told her how beautiful she looked. We told her how we were jealous of how perfect her teeth were and how I was jealous at how perfect her feet were. We told her it was nice to see her big baby blues just a showin' and twinklin'. She acted like she wanted to speak. I asked her if she was hungry because if she was I could get her something to eat if she wanted it. Then I asked her again if she wanted something to eat and she said "YEAH" plain as day. My heart damn near jumped out of my chest to hear her speak and respond when the nurses said they couldn't get her to respond at all, let alone eat. I sprinted to the nurses station and told them. At first they looked at me in shock as if they couldn't believe it either, but I think the excitement on my face convinced them I knew what I heard.
While the nurses got her some food I went back in the room and told her to be patient that food was coming. Mom and Tracey kept talking to her too. For the most part we were just trying to keep her awake so we could get some food in her. The nurses came in and were surprised when they noticed she was still awake and responding. They sat her up and gave her some orange juice. She had trouble swallowing at first, almost like she'd forgotten how, but between the nurses and us she finally got it figured out. She was doing so good with the orange juice they gave her some chicken. She did amazing! It even got to the point where we didn't have to keep reminding her to swallow because she started doing it on her own!!!
There was one point that made me want to cry, but they would've been tears of joy. My sister has a knack for people with disabilities and such. She's an aid at Monrovia for the Special Education kids. She knows how to get them to respond. At this point, Great Grandmother had only responded with her face. My mom and Raigen had gone to the bathroom. Tracey and I noticed it seemed like she was trying to move her right arm. It was pretty warm and her arms were under the covers so I moved the blanket, lifted her arm and put it on top of the blanket. She smiled as if to say thank you.
Then my sister did something that just mesmerized me. She reached out and held Grandmother's hand. Grandmother seemed like she liked it so my sister did her thing and asked, "Lois, I'm holding your hand. Your hand is very soft. Can you squeeze my hand back?" Sure enough, it took her moving each finger seperately a little bit at a time, but she squeezed back! We told her how great of a job she was doing and she smiled again. After holding her hand for a while my sister said, "Lois, your hand feels very soft, but now, can you relax your hand and release my hand?" Again, each finger seperately and a little bit at a time, she released my sister's hand. My sister told her how wonderful she'd done. Grandmother smiled again.
We all talked to her for a little while longer. I reintroduced everyone again. I let her see how Raigen got her red hair since it skipped me and my sister's generation. Then something funny happened. Grandmother plays this game. She always has. When she doesn't know what to say or do, she pretends she's asleep then when you look or walk away, she'll open her eyes. My sister had made a comment that talking to her like she's a child may help her to understand easier and this gave me an idea.
I thought maybe she'd like to make her game a real one. She kept closing her eyes and it was obvious she was faking sleep. When she opened her eyes again I explained to her that if she kept pretending to sleep I was going to play a game with her. Well, sure enough, she smirked and closed her eyes again. I covered my face and peeked between my fingers. Everyone got quiet. The silence must have made her curious because she opened her eyes and when she did, I took my hands off my face and said, "PEEK-A-BOO!" She smirked and squinted at me like I was crazy then closed her eyes again. I covered my face and did the same thing. When she opened her eyes, I took my hands off my face again and said, "PEEK-A-BOO!" She smiled so big and made a noise like she was trying to laugh. If she could've laughed I really believe she would've.
We did it several more times. At one time, she kept her eyes closed for almost a full minute trying to trick me. I took my hands off my face and started to walk away. Then I noticed she was trying to peek out of one eye. I hurried back, covered my face and said, "PEEK-A-BOO!" one last time. I told her how she'd almost tricked me. Then Raigen tried it with her. We also explained to her how Dora the Explorer says, "boo-hoo" instead of "peek-a-boo" but we don't like saying it that way because the phrase "boo-hoo" seems sad.
After our game of "peek-a-boo" she got pretty wore out. She started grimacing in pain. I mentioned something to the nurse and they came in and moved her again. I think she was trying to fight sleep. I think she was truly entertained whether she remembered us or not. We knew she needed the sleep so Mom suggested Raigen sing to her. Raigen sang her ABC's and Great Grandmother grinned ear to ear the whole time. Then Raigen sang Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and Grandmother seemed like she was trying to sing it with her. Raigen wanted me to sing Hush Little Baby because that's her favorite song for me to sing to her. I sang it. Pretty soon, she was asleep, yet smiling.
It was awesome being there with her. I am glad we went and I don't have any regrets. If we hadn't gone because of what we'd heard, not just me, but every single one of us would've regretted it. For those nurses and caretakers to tell us they couldn't get her to respond and we practically had a play-day with her was one of the most wonderful things I've ever experienced. She knows now, she's not alone. She knows now, she has real family and not just random faces coming in to bother and pester her every so often.
Another good thing is, she has two of the best nurses taking care of her. There is one young girl named Jessica. She tells Lois she loves her and she sounds genuine like she's family. I just think that is amazing. I can't remember the other nurses name, but she was happy for us. She was happy we got her to respond. She said it was rare for a patient to be at her level and suddenly start responding. She even got in trouble for us because we wanted Grandmother to eat and the evil nurse didn't because if she'd gotten sick she didn't want to have to clean it up. She was crazy. She was yelling at a patient that was still hungry and had stolen a dirty plate off the dish cart and started eating the scraps off of it while we were on our way out. Poor lady, if I was her, I'd thrown the plate at her and said, "THEN GET ME SOME MORE FREAKING FOOD! I'M STILL HUNGRY DAMNIT!"
Once we knew she was asleep for the night, we all gave her kisses and whispered good-bye. Raigen melted my heart. She saw how we were telling her bye and she started pulling on my shirt and she says, "I wanna give Great Grandmother Lois a kiss good-bye too." So I told her to go over by my mom and my mom lifted her up. It was the most precious thing and I couldn't be more proud of my daughter to be so positive and supportive in a time like this.
When my sister and mom got home from work, we got into my dad's car and started driving to Seymour. We weren't sure what to expect. We'd heard it was bad. We'd heard we wouldn't recognize her. We also heard she would probably be medicated to make her comfortable. We already knew she probably wouldn't remember any of us because it's been that way for 10 years. She had advanced dementia, high blood pressure, a pacemaker - you name it. We were still so proud she'd made it as long as she has. She's 90 years old. We have five generations of females alive as of right now. Not many families can say that.
When we got to the Lutheran Community Home an alarm was going off and we couldn't get in. Apparently one of the patients had tried to escape so no one could leave or enter. We called the front desk and explained we were called in to see our Grandmother. The nice lady asked what unit she was in and we didn't know, but I barely got out her first name and the nurse immediately said she'd be right there. This worried us a little. We thought maybe she'd already passed on. My mom started to panic. I told her to quit expecting the worst. I told her most likely they just felt bad it was taking them so long to get the alarm and lockdown system taken care of when we needed to see a family member as soon as possible.
We stopped at the bathroom because of all the McDonald's tea we'd drank on the way down, but I think primarily it was to gather our wits and clear our mind. I know I wanted to be rid of the preconceived notions of what we were about to encounter. Plus, I'd always had a problem with this home because it always seemed so dirty and smelled - and I was chased down the hall one time by an old lady in a wheel chair that swore I was her daughter the last time I was there, but that's another story for another time.
The building had been redone, the food and the building smelled great and the only joke made was that they probably should've consulted with my sister about the new interior design - LMAO...it helped lighten our mood. I'm sorry, but the design was just plain awful. It was like the Red & Gold Fairy had thrown up all over the place and a little Blue & Green Pixie had tried to graffiti on everything.
Anyways, we found her room and went in. She was by the window so we actually saw her roommate first. Her name was Lois as well. When we reached Grandmother's side of the room, we were in awe. She looked AMAZING! Her teeth were white as snow, she'd lost a proper amount of weight, her skin was super soft and her nails had been painted red. Her hair was the longest any of us had ever seen. She was sleeping and had a cool washcloth on her forehead which led us to believe she had a fever. I gently touched her face and she still felt warm and the washcloth on her forehead was warm too. I found another cool one and changed it for her. Her skin was so soft and felt extremely healthy.
Mom tried to wake her, but I wanted to talk to a caretaker before we tried too hard in case there was a reason we shouldn't continue trying to wake her. I went around the corner and talked to a male caretaker. I asked him if she was medicated. He said she was on a low dose of morphine every six hours or so to keep her comfortable. I asked if that was why she was so unresponsive. He said unfortunately, that had little to do with it. He said she ate pretty well yesterday, but since then she'd been almost entirely unresponsive and she hadn't eaten anything today. It was almost as if he could read my mind because the next thing he said was, "if you want to try to wake her and get her to respond that would be fine - great, in fact." I told him thank you and returned to the room and informed my mom what the caretaker had told me.
We talked to her while she slept and snored to beat the band for about 10 minutes or so until her hospice nurse came in to talk to us. She had very little to say at first, but as you all know - I took care of that. I asked if they were worried about pneumonia or if they were turning her occasionally. She said yes, they were making sure she was getting moved around and that the nurses were about to come in and do that now.
I asked about the morphine and she explained the dosage and that she could have more if we noticed she was in pain while we were there. At that time, the nurses came in to move her around so we all left the room to continue the discussion in the hall while the nurses did their jobs. One nurse told us there was a cart of food, water and coffee for us waiting outside the room and to help ourselves. Raigen jumped all over that. My mom and I were excited about the coffee - LOL.
While in the hall with the hospice nurse, she explained her and another hospice nurse were on call constantly. I started asking the harder questions. I asked what exactly the issue was. The hospice nurse said it was mostly her dementia and that it was just her time to go. She normally has high blood pressure, but now she was on the low end of normal. They'd stopped giving her all her medications - no seizure meds, no blood pressure meds, not even her diabetes medications - because at this point it wouldn't do her any good. It might even speed things up for the worst.
Then I asked it. I had to. "How long?" The hospice nurse was very professional. She said her professional opinion was that there was no way to tell for sure, but based on her unresponsiveness, she had days at most. We took it better than I expected, but as anyone can imagine it was still painful. While the hospice nurse was talking I swore I kept hearing Great Grandmother call out. By the time our hallway discussion was over, the nurses were done moving her so we went back in the room.
She looked more comfortable and she was facing the window. I walked around her bed to see her face because I noticed she wasn't snoring anymore and I jumped for joy because her eyes were open! I immediately started talking to her. I introduced myself and told her who all was there. I told her my sister had something exciting to tell her. At first we thought maybe she was out of it, but I got my sister to come around the bed by me and she told Great Grandmother she was engaged. Tracey showed her the ring and she SMILED! Tracey talked to her for a bit about how Jimmy proposed to her and when they were getting married and Grandmother just smiled and smiled and SMILED!
We told her how beautiful she looked. We told her how we were jealous of how perfect her teeth were and how I was jealous at how perfect her feet were. We told her it was nice to see her big baby blues just a showin' and twinklin'. She acted like she wanted to speak. I asked her if she was hungry because if she was I could get her something to eat if she wanted it. Then I asked her again if she wanted something to eat and she said "YEAH" plain as day. My heart damn near jumped out of my chest to hear her speak and respond when the nurses said they couldn't get her to respond at all, let alone eat. I sprinted to the nurses station and told them. At first they looked at me in shock as if they couldn't believe it either, but I think the excitement on my face convinced them I knew what I heard.
While the nurses got her some food I went back in the room and told her to be patient that food was coming. Mom and Tracey kept talking to her too. For the most part we were just trying to keep her awake so we could get some food in her. The nurses came in and were surprised when they noticed she was still awake and responding. They sat her up and gave her some orange juice. She had trouble swallowing at first, almost like she'd forgotten how, but between the nurses and us she finally got it figured out. She was doing so good with the orange juice they gave her some chicken. She did amazing! It even got to the point where we didn't have to keep reminding her to swallow because she started doing it on her own!!!
There was one point that made me want to cry, but they would've been tears of joy. My sister has a knack for people with disabilities and such. She's an aid at Monrovia for the Special Education kids. She knows how to get them to respond. At this point, Great Grandmother had only responded with her face. My mom and Raigen had gone to the bathroom. Tracey and I noticed it seemed like she was trying to move her right arm. It was pretty warm and her arms were under the covers so I moved the blanket, lifted her arm and put it on top of the blanket. She smiled as if to say thank you.
Then my sister did something that just mesmerized me. She reached out and held Grandmother's hand. Grandmother seemed like she liked it so my sister did her thing and asked, "Lois, I'm holding your hand. Your hand is very soft. Can you squeeze my hand back?" Sure enough, it took her moving each finger seperately a little bit at a time, but she squeezed back! We told her how great of a job she was doing and she smiled again. After holding her hand for a while my sister said, "Lois, your hand feels very soft, but now, can you relax your hand and release my hand?" Again, each finger seperately and a little bit at a time, she released my sister's hand. My sister told her how wonderful she'd done. Grandmother smiled again.
We all talked to her for a little while longer. I reintroduced everyone again. I let her see how Raigen got her red hair since it skipped me and my sister's generation. Then something funny happened. Grandmother plays this game. She always has. When she doesn't know what to say or do, she pretends she's asleep then when you look or walk away, she'll open her eyes. My sister had made a comment that talking to her like she's a child may help her to understand easier and this gave me an idea.
I thought maybe she'd like to make her game a real one. She kept closing her eyes and it was obvious she was faking sleep. When she opened her eyes again I explained to her that if she kept pretending to sleep I was going to play a game with her. Well, sure enough, she smirked and closed her eyes again. I covered my face and peeked between my fingers. Everyone got quiet. The silence must have made her curious because she opened her eyes and when she did, I took my hands off my face and said, "PEEK-A-BOO!" She smirked and squinted at me like I was crazy then closed her eyes again. I covered my face and did the same thing. When she opened her eyes, I took my hands off my face again and said, "PEEK-A-BOO!" She smiled so big and made a noise like she was trying to laugh. If she could've laughed I really believe she would've.
We did it several more times. At one time, she kept her eyes closed for almost a full minute trying to trick me. I took my hands off my face and started to walk away. Then I noticed she was trying to peek out of one eye. I hurried back, covered my face and said, "PEEK-A-BOO!" one last time. I told her how she'd almost tricked me. Then Raigen tried it with her. We also explained to her how Dora the Explorer says, "boo-hoo" instead of "peek-a-boo" but we don't like saying it that way because the phrase "boo-hoo" seems sad.
After our game of "peek-a-boo" she got pretty wore out. She started grimacing in pain. I mentioned something to the nurse and they came in and moved her again. I think she was trying to fight sleep. I think she was truly entertained whether she remembered us or not. We knew she needed the sleep so Mom suggested Raigen sing to her. Raigen sang her ABC's and Great Grandmother grinned ear to ear the whole time. Then Raigen sang Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and Grandmother seemed like she was trying to sing it with her. Raigen wanted me to sing Hush Little Baby because that's her favorite song for me to sing to her. I sang it. Pretty soon, she was asleep, yet smiling.
It was awesome being there with her. I am glad we went and I don't have any regrets. If we hadn't gone because of what we'd heard, not just me, but every single one of us would've regretted it. For those nurses and caretakers to tell us they couldn't get her to respond and we practically had a play-day with her was one of the most wonderful things I've ever experienced. She knows now, she's not alone. She knows now, she has real family and not just random faces coming in to bother and pester her every so often.
Another good thing is, she has two of the best nurses taking care of her. There is one young girl named Jessica. She tells Lois she loves her and she sounds genuine like she's family. I just think that is amazing. I can't remember the other nurses name, but she was happy for us. She was happy we got her to respond. She said it was rare for a patient to be at her level and suddenly start responding. She even got in trouble for us because we wanted Grandmother to eat and the evil nurse didn't because if she'd gotten sick she didn't want to have to clean it up. She was crazy. She was yelling at a patient that was still hungry and had stolen a dirty plate off the dish cart and started eating the scraps off of it while we were on our way out. Poor lady, if I was her, I'd thrown the plate at her and said, "THEN GET ME SOME MORE FREAKING FOOD! I'M STILL HUNGRY DAMNIT!"
Once we knew she was asleep for the night, we all gave her kisses and whispered good-bye. Raigen melted my heart. She saw how we were telling her bye and she started pulling on my shirt and she says, "I wanna give Great Grandmother Lois a kiss good-bye too." So I told her to go over by my mom and my mom lifted her up. It was the most precious thing and I couldn't be more proud of my daughter to be so positive and supportive in a time like this.
Lord, thank you for my family. Thank you for giving me a family that understands that no matter what, family sticks together. Thank you for giving my Great Grandmother a wonderful life full of kids, grand-kids, great grand-kids, peanut butter fudge and putting on Christmas parties that would make Bill Gates jealous.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
WE LOVE YOU, GRANDMOTHER.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
My ZUMBA Documentary
If you've been keeping up with my blog, you read the Life's Twists and Turns post. Since then, I've started working out. There's been good and bad that's come with this fitness. I know the first thought that would go through my head after reading that last statement would be, "bad? How could there be a BAD side to being fit?" Well, the bad side is the negative comments I receive about how skinny I am now. Nobodies that think they're somebodies saying things like, "you're disgusting" or "you need to quit throwing up". Some people insist they know me better than I do. They'll ask me what I want to eat. If I tell them I don't want anything, they fix food and bring the grossest and greasiest thing they can find.
Most of you know how I am, so you can imagine my immediate, fireball responses. For example, there's this idiot who supposedly has a thing for me. He tells me about twice a week how disgusting I am. He's said, "you look disgusting." My response was, "you're a dick. How are you gonna tell a female she looks disgusting?" He'll say, "I'm sorry, I just don't like girls that look bulimic." By this time, I'm pissed beyond all reason so I say, "I'm not bulimic. I'm healthy and if I gave a flying F*@# about how YOU think I look, I'd be dating you instead of being repulsed by you. You don't like what you see? Do us BOTH a favor and go the F*@# home!!!" I know that's pretty vulgar, but in my defense, I'm dealing with this shit at least twice a week.
On to the good part! So I kept hearing about how much fun ZUMBA is. My mom ordered the Nintendo Wii version and I made fun of it at first. We had it almost three weeks before anyone tried it and I was that first person. I felt like a flaming idiot, but I couldn't stop. I did it the next day too...and the next...and the next. I took a break from it because I had to work a couple days at the V. The following week my sister wanted to try it. I'd had so much fun and sweated so hard without severe bodyaches, I decided to put this ZUMBA to the test.
For two weeks, I did ZUMBA for almost every single day and here is the proof of my progress:
After two straight weeks of having a blast while working my ass off, I'd definitely say it paid off. Obviously the baby bump is still gonna be there after only 2 weeks, but you can see the difference between days 2 and 14 BIG TIME! I still look a little mushy around the middle in the Day 2 pic. Whereas I look much firmer in the Day 14 pic. I started to show the muscle definition around my love handles and actually lost my love handles almost completely.
Bob Harper is so positive. Not to mention, absolutely adorable. He's very modest and motivational. He supports starting out just taking the stairs instead of the elevator. He doesn't expect you to be able to do the moves as fast as him or as perfect as him. He even has modified versions of every exercise he does for people that are having difficulties. He just wants you to keep moving. If you aren't coordinated, he's got a simpler modified version for you. If you're having trouble catching your breath, he says to keep moving, but just march in place or don't go down as far in your lunges or don't use the weights if you feel like you can barely handle it without the weights to start with. Bob understands that every person is different. Jillian expects everyone to do what SHE did to lose weight. She'll even make little nits and digs about how Bob runs his programs. When they discontinued Bob's exercise program On Demand and added Jillian's (because her team has won the most challenges on the TV show and she felt she wasn't getting the credit she deserved), I started doing Jillian's program. I mentioned before that Bob has modifications for his exercises for those who don't feel like they can make it. Well in Jillian's program, at one point she says, "DO NOT STOP. DO IT EXACTLY LIKE THIS AND ONLY LIKE THIS. NO MODIFICATIONS. MODIFICATIONS ARE THE WUSSY WAY OF GETTING OUT OF HARD WORK."
As you can see, I had my initial measurement. After the initial measurement, I would compare the current measurement and the previous measurement to track my progress. For example, my initial measurement was on 5-13-09. Hips: 43 1/2", Waist: 43 1/2", Chest: 45", Thighs: 25 1/2", Biceps: 12 3/4". This was immediately after I'd drastically changed my diet. Then on 5-16-09: Hips: 43 1/2" (+-0"), Waist: 43" (-1/2"), Chest: 44" (-1"), Thighs: 24 1/2" (-1"), Biceps: 12 1/2" (-1/4"). Then, after each category I'd lost in, I'd add a star - kind of like getting a gold star if you went a week in school without getting in trouble or something...lol. I would also put an "X" next to a category I'd gained in.
Most of you know how I am, so you can imagine my immediate, fireball responses. For example, there's this idiot who supposedly has a thing for me. He tells me about twice a week how disgusting I am. He's said, "you look disgusting." My response was, "you're a dick. How are you gonna tell a female she looks disgusting?" He'll say, "I'm sorry, I just don't like girls that look bulimic." By this time, I'm pissed beyond all reason so I say, "I'm not bulimic. I'm healthy and if I gave a flying F*@# about how YOU think I look, I'd be dating you instead of being repulsed by you. You don't like what you see? Do us BOTH a favor and go the F*@# home!!!" I know that's pretty vulgar, but in my defense, I'm dealing with this shit at least twice a week.
On to the good part! So I kept hearing about how much fun ZUMBA is. My mom ordered the Nintendo Wii version and I made fun of it at first. We had it almost three weeks before anyone tried it and I was that first person. I felt like a flaming idiot, but I couldn't stop. I did it the next day too...and the next...and the next. I took a break from it because I had to work a couple days at the V. The following week my sister wanted to try it. I'd had so much fun and sweated so hard without severe bodyaches, I decided to put this ZUMBA to the test.
For two weeks, I did ZUMBA for almost every single day and here is the proof of my progress:
This was after day 2 of ZUMBA
This was after day 14 of ZUMBA
After two straight weeks of having a blast while working my ass off, I'd definitely say it paid off. Obviously the baby bump is still gonna be there after only 2 weeks, but you can see the difference between days 2 and 14 BIG TIME! I still look a little mushy around the middle in the Day 2 pic. Whereas I look much firmer in the Day 14 pic. I started to show the muscle definition around my love handles and actually lost my love handles almost completely.
All of this seemed to happen so quickly, the rude "you're disgusting" comments started flying even more often. The only people that were truly positive about it for me were my current boyfriend and my ex-husband. They were very supportive and proud of how hard I'd worked even before I started exercising. If you remember right, I actually lost most of my weight switching my diet. When people say it's hard to make such a change, they mean it. It's not just a change in eating habits. It's a change in lifestyle and lifestyle changes are the hardest to overcome. If I had tried doing exercising before losing at least 60 pounds, I would've ended up with even more health problems than what I had to start with because of all the stress I was putting on my body.
I stopped weighing myself when I reached 200 pounds. I couldn't handle looking at the scale anymore. I started checking into the Biggest Loser. Jillian Michaels is a psychotic bitch that thinks she's better than what she is. Bob Harper was DEFINITELY more up my alley. He uses more positive reinforcement and positive motivation to get you to realize: "I CAN DO IT!" Jillian is like a drill sergeant from Hell. She is too hard core - almost to the point she makes it sound like if you don't follow her rules to a "T", you're sinning and God will punish you by making you fatter. I understand where Jillian is coming from, I really do. She looks at the weight loss she went through as hard work and without hard work, you get nowhere. What she doesn't understand is that there are different levels of hard work. Starting out just making small steps and working you're way up can tend to be more motivational to a larger demographic than practically beating their mental awareness to a pulp. She almost makes it seem like she's brain washing you. For example, she'll say something like, "you're never gonna get anywhere unless you work you're ass off. It doesn't matter if you weigh 10 pounds or 1000 pounds, you HAVE to do this move to get anywhere and you WILL complete it." Then she'll add this little, "you can do it," at the end as if she had a cue card in front of her saying, "HEY! YOU'RE BEING A BITCH. CHILL THE F*@# OUT!" Lmfao.
Bob Harper is so positive. Not to mention, absolutely adorable. He's very modest and motivational. He supports starting out just taking the stairs instead of the elevator. He doesn't expect you to be able to do the moves as fast as him or as perfect as him. He even has modified versions of every exercise he does for people that are having difficulties. He just wants you to keep moving. If you aren't coordinated, he's got a simpler modified version for you. If you're having trouble catching your breath, he says to keep moving, but just march in place or don't go down as far in your lunges or don't use the weights if you feel like you can barely handle it without the weights to start with. Bob understands that every person is different. Jillian expects everyone to do what SHE did to lose weight. She'll even make little nits and digs about how Bob runs his programs. When they discontinued Bob's exercise program On Demand and added Jillian's (because her team has won the most challenges on the TV show and she felt she wasn't getting the credit she deserved), I started doing Jillian's program. I mentioned before that Bob has modifications for his exercises for those who don't feel like they can make it. Well in Jillian's program, at one point she says, "DO NOT STOP. DO IT EXACTLY LIKE THIS AND ONLY LIKE THIS. NO MODIFICATIONS. MODIFICATIONS ARE THE WUSSY WAY OF GETTING OUT OF HARD WORK."
Now, I'm a firm believer in hard work, but after doing Bob's workout and hearing her slam her own teammate from the Biggest Loser television show, I was done. I finished that session and I never did her show again. They never brought Bob's program back so I felt screwed. I knew I had to do something. I'd worked hard for two straight months and still weighed over 200 pounds. Remember, I stopped weighing myself when I hit 200 because I couldn't handle the depression it was sending me into. I started doing some research. Facebook has weightloss application that are absolutely amazing and also offer group support with others in the same predicament as you. We were having trouble with our internet connection when I was using those types of things though so I couldn't put everything into my food journal all the time.
Finally, I went old school. I went back to the eating patterns I had during high school. I also found out that when you have a crappy metabolism, you're body can only handle 360 calories every two hours (including what you drink). Anything over 360 calories is automatically turned into fat. Your body uses carbs while you sleep to keep your heart beating and your breathing going so eating a ton of carbs within an hour or two before bed would be a bad idea. I started with small steps. If I wanted a snack before bed, I would slice up an apple or eat a WHOLE bag of Orville Reddenbacher's Smart Pop popcorn. Yes, both of those have carbs, but not enough to cause any weight problems. The popcorn I mentioned, eating the whole bag is only 45 calories. If you work out at night and then eat an apple to curb your appetite, your body ends of burning most of the apple off before you go to bed.
Now, the rest of my weight loss had a little help from life or it's pretty extreme. I do not eat beef. I LOVE tofu and veggies. When you make Kraft Mac 'n' Cheese, do the reduced calorie version. Put 1/4 block of extra firm tofu in a food processor until its like a cold white cheese dip. Add that to the reduced calorie version of the Mac 'n' Cheese. Now you have a complete meal and you can't even tell you're getting a "meat" version at the same time. It doesn't even change the flavor. Then, if you add hot sauce (which Kraft Mac 'n' Cheese with hot sauce is my favorite meal), you're digestion gets sped up and you'll lose a little weight that way too. Instead of weighing yourself, MEASURE, MEASURE, MEASURE!!! You will lose inches before you'll lose weight. The roller coaster of losing one pound then gaining two, then losing three pounds and gaining two is FRUSTRATING AS ALL HELL. Honestly, I probably got up to about 215 pounds. But, when I hit 200 and started measuring myself instead, the progress I was making made me happier than I'd been in a long time. I kept a journal of "Inch Loss Measurements." I wouldn't measure myself every day. I didn't measure myself even once a week. Here are the pics of the two pages of my "Inch Loss Measurements:"
As you can see, I had my initial measurement. After the initial measurement, I would compare the current measurement and the previous measurement to track my progress. For example, my initial measurement was on 5-13-09. Hips: 43 1/2", Waist: 43 1/2", Chest: 45", Thighs: 25 1/2", Biceps: 12 3/4". This was immediately after I'd drastically changed my diet. Then on 5-16-09: Hips: 43 1/2" (+-0"), Waist: 43" (-1/2"), Chest: 44" (-1"), Thighs: 24 1/2" (-1"), Biceps: 12 1/2" (-1/4"). Then, after each category I'd lost in, I'd add a star - kind of like getting a gold star if you went a week in school without getting in trouble or something...lol. I would also put an "X" next to a category I'd gained in.
There are six measurements on each page in two columns. At the end of each column, I'd add up how much I'd lost and put the total at the bottom of the column. When both columns were finished, I'd add the column totals together. My first page total was 7". When I hit the second page, the weight started melting off. In three out of six measurement dates there are huge stars next to the dates. Those are the dates I had lost in ALL categories. Those were my favorite! On the second page, I lost 12 1/2" in the first column and 15 3/4" in the second column. Between the two page totals: After 16 months, 10 days, I'd lost 35 1/2" bodywide and 80 pounds. I've lost a little more since then, but once I got down to my goals, I felt good enough to work out. My metabolism was up so I actually lost about 40 inches bodywide and 85 pounds. I'm the same size I was as a freshman in high school and feel better than ever.
There are still issues I have to deal with though. My metabolism is so high that if I skip a meal, I lose 5 pounds. If I stress, I lose weight. It can be hard at times. Those issues I can deal with much better than the ones where people who are extremely unhealthy looking at me and telling me I'm disgusting. I don't think they're disgusting. It's like a cross-country runner being all skin and bones, but no one says something to them because they run cross-country. Yet because I'm a bartender and mother and I DON'T work out constantly, all the sudden people say I'm throwing up or I'm not eating or I'm disgusting. The main thing is, I AM EXTREMELY HAPPY WITH WHAT I'VE BECOME BECAUSE OF HOW HARD I WORKED. It gives me the confidence to go out into the world and be myself without feeling like people are treating me different because I'm not what society feels I should be. These idiots who think they know me better than I know myself can just keep being stupid because the comments they make don't matter. They don't like it, they don't have to look. If I can lose 85 pounds, I KNOW my friends who are trying to get fit and want to lose 20-30 pounds CAN and WILL do it. They just gotta find their niche and I believe they can...
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Life and Its Twists and Turns
It's amazing where life can take you. Sometimes it's good. Sometimes it's bad. Sometimes it's so confusing you don't know how to feel and the only choice you have is to go with the flow. For example: Could you believe that 7 months ago, my mom was still doing chemo? That 7 months ago, my mom had no hair. Seven months ago, my sister was a senior in college. A little over seven months ago, I had just started losing weight. The purpose of this post is to clue people in on how important it is to live your life to the fullest without compromising your morals or hurting people along the way.
My mom has been "inflated" to the point she's pretty happy. As a matter of fact, her boobs look better than mine. LOL. She's been in remission since June 7th. She was one of the lucky ones. I thought it was no big deal and so what it had already spread to her lymph nodes, the doctors would fix it and they did. Then, a good friend of mine's girlfriend was diagnosed with lung cancer around 3-4 months ago. Three weeks ago, they gave her 4-6 weeks to live. She passed last Monday, August 30th. That's how fast it spread. Wanna know how they found out about it? Her hips started hurting. She went to the doctor for hip pain she just couldn't shake. They found a mass on her lungs and determined it had already spread to her bones (which was causing the hip pain)...the rest is history. She was the same age as my mom.
I have moved in with my parents since the divorce. For some reason, the emotional stress is hitting Scott and I harder now than it did from about that week before the divorce was final until it actually was final June 1st. We're pretty good friends. It seems to be easier for him to find someone worth it to take his mind off of everything. He works in a bar and keeps himself busy. I try to keep myself busy, but it sucks to hear some of the things he tells me. I'm so picky. If they've burnt the bridge in the past, forget it. If they've already lied to me, even if it was trivial, forget about it. If they've disrespected me, I don't think so. If they've tried to compete with Scott for some stupid reason, DEFINITELY FORGET ABOUT IT...they can't be themselves if they're trying to be Scott. The guys I could even begin to have an inkling of an interest for are either taken or supposedly so screwed up they can't see a great thing in front of them if I hit 'em with a ten ton brick. Then there's those arrogant guys who insist they're just "confident" - "God's gift to women," "Ladies men,"...more like MANWHORES with Napoleon Complexes...I'd say they have Little Man's Syndrome, but I wouldn't touch any of them with someone else's 10-foot pole to figure out if it were true or not.
The good news is, I've started my own business. Orb Clothing - Apparel Printing. I've even got a group page on Facebook. It's keeping me pretty busy during the week, which is probably a good thing since the rumor is the Whiteland VFW is about to shut down. I love bartending. It's my calling and I'm DAMN good at it too! In the meantime, if y'all hear of an opening, let me know. Those of you that know me, know there's no chance in Hell I'd let ya down.
I lost some more weight too. 70 pounds in about 8 months or so...35 inches body-wide...I weighed 200 lbs when I started going through all this shit. Well, I stopped weighing myself at 200 lbs because I couldn't handle it anymore. Currently, I weight 130 lbs and I feel like a million dollars, physically. Now catching up the mental part is the toughest. I was looking at pictures of Raigen on my mom's Facebook page tonight from two Easter's ago. I started bawling. I remember being too tired and hurting all over from trying to help Raigen with her first Easter egg hunt. I remember being at home and just wanting to take naps. I remember not having the energy to take her outside and play. The pool videos are the only videos I have of her when she was a baby and I had to force myself to drink 6 cups of coffee and take my pain meds from a tooth ache I'd had earlier that week to get the energy up to take her outside and play with her. I worked with her inside a lot, I guess. We did puzzles together when she was barely a year old. We had a lot of craft times. She new most of her colors by the time she was a year old and her shapes by the time she hit 14 months old. I have flash cards for everything and when I can't work with her personally, Leap Frog toys are a God-send. I just feel like I hindered her in some way because I was so freaking fat. I was disgusting. I couldn't take RJ on a walk without being out of breath. I always had heart burn. My stomach always hurt. I was miserable. I'm ecstatic I made my goals, but it gets offensive when people tell me now I'm too skinny. They didn't feel like they missed the entire beginning of their only daughter's childhood because they were too fat and lazy to even take care of themselves. Want proof? Check out either mine or my mom's Facebook pics and videos...
I am proud of what I've done. I've started a new life, possibly a better one. I've got my own business. I have friends and one of them, I haven't seen in almost 10 years yet it seems like we never missed a beat. Raigen is about to turn three years old on October 4th. My sister gets old on October 28th. My best gf's bday is November 20th and about 90% of the people I know will forget my birthday because of all the commotion with it being on Thanksgiving this year...maybe it'll be Scott's holiday to have RJ and I can just get wasted...damn Turkeys...
My heart does go out to my sister. I think she may be just as confused as I am, but for a different situation. She needs a job, but doesn't know what to do. I know about art, but not as extensively as she does to be able to help her. She wants to stay close to all of us, but she misses her boyfriend in Evansville. She doesn't get to see him much now that she's graduated - she got her diploma in the mail today! - and I am sure all of this is really hard on her. She even came into my room tonight to try to get some answers outta me to see what she should do. I'm stumped for her...and that RARELY happens to me. It also doesn't help her dog got put to sleep.
I know life works out the way it should, I just wish I could get out a little more, yet I want to work and make money so I can get my own place with more privacy and quietness and do things they way I wanna do 'em. The only way for me to do that, is to find a BETTER bartending job. The only way to do that, is to find the time to go looking for one. Maybe next week I'll get the chance. So far, I don't have any Orb orders to fill...or, who knows, maybe Orb will take off enough I can get my clothing line out there sooner than expected...as long as my Little Red is taken care of and I'm mostly happy where I am at, life could definitely be worse!
My mom has been "inflated" to the point she's pretty happy. As a matter of fact, her boobs look better than mine. LOL. She's been in remission since June 7th. She was one of the lucky ones. I thought it was no big deal and so what it had already spread to her lymph nodes, the doctors would fix it and they did. Then, a good friend of mine's girlfriend was diagnosed with lung cancer around 3-4 months ago. Three weeks ago, they gave her 4-6 weeks to live. She passed last Monday, August 30th. That's how fast it spread. Wanna know how they found out about it? Her hips started hurting. She went to the doctor for hip pain she just couldn't shake. They found a mass on her lungs and determined it had already spread to her bones (which was causing the hip pain)...the rest is history. She was the same age as my mom.
I have moved in with my parents since the divorce. For some reason, the emotional stress is hitting Scott and I harder now than it did from about that week before the divorce was final until it actually was final June 1st. We're pretty good friends. It seems to be easier for him to find someone worth it to take his mind off of everything. He works in a bar and keeps himself busy. I try to keep myself busy, but it sucks to hear some of the things he tells me. I'm so picky. If they've burnt the bridge in the past, forget it. If they've already lied to me, even if it was trivial, forget about it. If they've disrespected me, I don't think so. If they've tried to compete with Scott for some stupid reason, DEFINITELY FORGET ABOUT IT...they can't be themselves if they're trying to be Scott. The guys I could even begin to have an inkling of an interest for are either taken or supposedly so screwed up they can't see a great thing in front of them if I hit 'em with a ten ton brick. Then there's those arrogant guys who insist they're just "confident" - "God's gift to women," "Ladies men,"...more like MANWHORES with Napoleon Complexes...I'd say they have Little Man's Syndrome, but I wouldn't touch any of them with someone else's 10-foot pole to figure out if it were true or not.
The good news is, I've started my own business. Orb Clothing - Apparel Printing. I've even got a group page on Facebook. It's keeping me pretty busy during the week, which is probably a good thing since the rumor is the Whiteland VFW is about to shut down. I love bartending. It's my calling and I'm DAMN good at it too! In the meantime, if y'all hear of an opening, let me know. Those of you that know me, know there's no chance in Hell I'd let ya down.
I lost some more weight too. 70 pounds in about 8 months or so...35 inches body-wide...I weighed 200 lbs when I started going through all this shit. Well, I stopped weighing myself at 200 lbs because I couldn't handle it anymore. Currently, I weight 130 lbs and I feel like a million dollars, physically. Now catching up the mental part is the toughest. I was looking at pictures of Raigen on my mom's Facebook page tonight from two Easter's ago. I started bawling. I remember being too tired and hurting all over from trying to help Raigen with her first Easter egg hunt. I remember being at home and just wanting to take naps. I remember not having the energy to take her outside and play. The pool videos are the only videos I have of her when she was a baby and I had to force myself to drink 6 cups of coffee and take my pain meds from a tooth ache I'd had earlier that week to get the energy up to take her outside and play with her. I worked with her inside a lot, I guess. We did puzzles together when she was barely a year old. We had a lot of craft times. She new most of her colors by the time she was a year old and her shapes by the time she hit 14 months old. I have flash cards for everything and when I can't work with her personally, Leap Frog toys are a God-send. I just feel like I hindered her in some way because I was so freaking fat. I was disgusting. I couldn't take RJ on a walk without being out of breath. I always had heart burn. My stomach always hurt. I was miserable. I'm ecstatic I made my goals, but it gets offensive when people tell me now I'm too skinny. They didn't feel like they missed the entire beginning of their only daughter's childhood because they were too fat and lazy to even take care of themselves. Want proof? Check out either mine or my mom's Facebook pics and videos...
I am proud of what I've done. I've started a new life, possibly a better one. I've got my own business. I have friends and one of them, I haven't seen in almost 10 years yet it seems like we never missed a beat. Raigen is about to turn three years old on October 4th. My sister gets old on October 28th. My best gf's bday is November 20th and about 90% of the people I know will forget my birthday because of all the commotion with it being on Thanksgiving this year...maybe it'll be Scott's holiday to have RJ and I can just get wasted...damn Turkeys...
My heart does go out to my sister. I think she may be just as confused as I am, but for a different situation. She needs a job, but doesn't know what to do. I know about art, but not as extensively as she does to be able to help her. She wants to stay close to all of us, but she misses her boyfriend in Evansville. She doesn't get to see him much now that she's graduated - she got her diploma in the mail today! - and I am sure all of this is really hard on her. She even came into my room tonight to try to get some answers outta me to see what she should do. I'm stumped for her...and that RARELY happens to me. It also doesn't help her dog got put to sleep.
I know life works out the way it should, I just wish I could get out a little more, yet I want to work and make money so I can get my own place with more privacy and quietness and do things they way I wanna do 'em. The only way for me to do that, is to find a BETTER bartending job. The only way to do that, is to find the time to go looking for one. Maybe next week I'll get the chance. So far, I don't have any Orb orders to fill...or, who knows, maybe Orb will take off enough I can get my clothing line out there sooner than expected...as long as my Little Red is taken care of and I'm mostly happy where I am at, life could definitely be worse!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
My Mother's Journey Through Breast Cancer: Radiation to the Present
I can't hold it in so I'm gonna have to skip around a little bit - SHE'S DONE WITH ALL THERAPY TREATMENTS!!!!!!!!!
Radiation was a breeze other than it lasted 5-6 weeks Monday thru Friday and the severe burns it caused on her skin. She had to have special deodorant and lotion to ease the itching and awkward smells - lol...
My mom also quit smoking for good! I quit too, but it's been pretty rough. I thank the good Lord every day for Scott and I getting along better since the divorce because I am having troubles with the smoking. But anyways, it ain't about me...LMFAO!
There were a couple weeks Mom had run out of her anti-depressant and went 48 hours without sleep - TWICE - and that combined with quitting smoking, plus the fact her and I don't always see eye to eye...yeeeeeeah, you can just about guess there were a few blowups. She recognized something wasn't right and she asked for her to be put back on the meds herself. I have to admit that was my proudest moment of her! She recognized things were rough, not only for her, but for all the people around her when she wasn't on the anti-depressants. All is good now. She starts her implant "inflation" on Thursday of this week, hopefully. All us girls (and my Dad) are trying to convince her that she'll be happier with C's instead of small B's like she had before. I don't care, I just want her to be happy. Well, I don't care as long as she doesn't go all Pamela Anderson on me...
She's actually on a hormone therapy now. The drug is called Tamoxifen. She has to be on it for, at least, five years. Even though she has gone through menopause because of the chemotherapy, the Tamoxifen can cause her to go through menopause, again. It can even cause her to start her periods again, which is actually a BAD sign, according to Doctor Mayer. As far as Doctor Mayer is concerned though, Mom will not have to be on the Tamoxifen for the rest of her life. This is, however, something we have to take in stride.
Mom has started back to work. I think she feels more normal again. Her hair is really, REALLY, REALLY curly now. It makes me jealous even though my hair is rather curly too. She seems happier and attended the Relay for Life in Mooresville because she felt terrible during the Komen for the Cure event. She can actually pick Raigen up, which she hasn't been able to do in almost a year because of the cancer treatments and surgeries. She has been a trooper and has made it through a lot. Honestly, the hardest part for her, in my opinion, was that the people she thought would and should care about what she's going through, didn't and the people she'd even forgot about came out of the woodwork and supported her through and through!
We've been having a Girl's Night with Polly Newlin, Patty McGowan and Sandy Tristler once a month. Mom has loved every single second of it. It's good for all of us to hang out together considering all the history involved. Next Girl's Night - July 12th at Polly's house...because Applebee's is WAY too family oriented for us...ROTFLMFAO!!!!!
Radiation was a breeze other than it lasted 5-6 weeks Monday thru Friday and the severe burns it caused on her skin. She had to have special deodorant and lotion to ease the itching and awkward smells - lol...
My mom also quit smoking for good! I quit too, but it's been pretty rough. I thank the good Lord every day for Scott and I getting along better since the divorce because I am having troubles with the smoking. But anyways, it ain't about me...LMFAO!
There were a couple weeks Mom had run out of her anti-depressant and went 48 hours without sleep - TWICE - and that combined with quitting smoking, plus the fact her and I don't always see eye to eye...yeeeeeeah, you can just about guess there were a few blowups. She recognized something wasn't right and she asked for her to be put back on the meds herself. I have to admit that was my proudest moment of her! She recognized things were rough, not only for her, but for all the people around her when she wasn't on the anti-depressants. All is good now. She starts her implant "inflation" on Thursday of this week, hopefully. All us girls (and my Dad) are trying to convince her that she'll be happier with C's instead of small B's like she had before. I don't care, I just want her to be happy. Well, I don't care as long as she doesn't go all Pamela Anderson on me...
She's actually on a hormone therapy now. The drug is called Tamoxifen. She has to be on it for, at least, five years. Even though she has gone through menopause because of the chemotherapy, the Tamoxifen can cause her to go through menopause, again. It can even cause her to start her periods again, which is actually a BAD sign, according to Doctor Mayer. As far as Doctor Mayer is concerned though, Mom will not have to be on the Tamoxifen for the rest of her life. This is, however, something we have to take in stride.
Mom has started back to work. I think she feels more normal again. Her hair is really, REALLY, REALLY curly now. It makes me jealous even though my hair is rather curly too. She seems happier and attended the Relay for Life in Mooresville because she felt terrible during the Komen for the Cure event. She can actually pick Raigen up, which she hasn't been able to do in almost a year because of the cancer treatments and surgeries. She has been a trooper and has made it through a lot. Honestly, the hardest part for her, in my opinion, was that the people she thought would and should care about what she's going through, didn't and the people she'd even forgot about came out of the woodwork and supported her through and through!
We've been having a Girl's Night with Polly Newlin, Patty McGowan and Sandy Tristler once a month. Mom has loved every single second of it. It's good for all of us to hang out together considering all the history involved. Next Girl's Night - July 12th at Polly's house...because Applebee's is WAY too family oriented for us...ROTFLMFAO!!!!!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
My Mother's Journey Through Breast Cancer: Another Surgery
Ok. Same shit, different day...bummer dude...
My mom is STILL not healing the way she should be. She should've already started radiation. She should've already been almost done with radiation. Instead, she has a surface infection and has to have another surgery today. They are opening her up, taking everything out, cutting out the infection, rinsing everything off and putting it all back in - minus the infection, of course. Once she has this surgery, she'll have two weeks to get mostly healed and start radiation. If she doesn't, what cancer cells they might have missed during the mastectomies will have already started to grow again. They won't repeat the chemo this close together, so she just has to chance relapsing.
It's just a simple two-hour, general surgery, today. It is supposed to be an outpatient surgery, but we've encountered "supposedly-s" all throughout this ordeal and are not getting our hopes up. Here's the kicker...I love Doctor Lee. He's definitely my favorite out of all mom's doctors. However, he failed to realize mom was on a steroid for most of her chemo and a little after. This whole time Doctor Lee and Doctor Mayer were trying to say it was her smoking that was causing the delayed healing, but in fact, it was the steroid. Did Doctor Lee actually admit this? Not in so many words, but he did inform us that steroids could cause delayed healing. He didn't catch this steroid fact until last week...pretty pissy, ay? Duh.
Good news is, she's quit smoking. Isn't always in a good mood, sometimes she won't shut up because she's used to smoking and talking so she talks longer and faster to keep er mind off it - LMAO - but she's quit...for now. If she can't get healed enough to do the radiation she'll start smoking again. I don't blame her. A body can only take so much and look at all the freaking crap she's been through! This is such bullshit...
Tracey and I have to start getting tested at 38. How did we come to this conclusion? My mom was 48 when she was diagnosed. You subtract 10 years from the age your family member was diagnosed. If that number is under 40, you get checked at that age. If not, you can wait until you're at least 40.
You know what else sucks for my mom? Scott and I are getting a divorce. She's asked if it was her fault. It's definitely NOT her fault. The fact she would ask, brings me to tears. If anything, her situation helped me grow, unfortunately at her expense. Scott and I just grew in different directions, I guess. Isn't life interesting?
Wish my mom luck...she's gonna need it...
***UPDATE 4/8/10***
My mom ended up having to stay in the hospital overnight. My mom was supposed to be Doctor Lee's second case of the day, but they needed to move his first case up and his third case back in scheduling. Apparently, which shouldn't have been a surprise to us, they didn't do either. So they take my mom back into pre-op and start doing their thing. We get to go see her before her surgery and they give her some valium. They told us they were moving her time up, so they were all rushing around to get her ready in time. They told us she was going back so we went to get some lunch (thanks to my Uncle Rick, by the way, because he bought us lunch). They come running up the stairs trying to catch us. They informed us that scheduling was screwed up so after my mom had just been through all that, they were going to make her wait 2 1/2 hours!
I was pissed. I had moved softball practice to 3:30 and made my girls wait for no reason at all. As a matter of fact, I found out after my practice that my mom didn't even get into surgery until 3:15. I think there is seriously something wrong with the people who take care of the clerical stuff like scheduling in that hospital. There is always something with St. Francis, scheduling, handwriting, lying, bitches...ALWAYS. Thank God for somewhat decent doctors.
Anyway, because she finished her surgery so late, Doctor Lee suggested she stay the night. They ended up only taking her right side completely out, washing it and replacing the cadaver expander. On the left side, they only cut out the surface infection. Mom got home around noon today. Since she didn't have to have all of her breast tissue scraped out this time, she isn't in as much pain. She's doing well and resting, but nothing is keeping her from going to my sister's games...she insists on going tomorrow. I don't blame her. It IS my sister's senior year.
My mom is STILL not healing the way she should be. She should've already started radiation. She should've already been almost done with radiation. Instead, she has a surface infection and has to have another surgery today. They are opening her up, taking everything out, cutting out the infection, rinsing everything off and putting it all back in - minus the infection, of course. Once she has this surgery, she'll have two weeks to get mostly healed and start radiation. If she doesn't, what cancer cells they might have missed during the mastectomies will have already started to grow again. They won't repeat the chemo this close together, so she just has to chance relapsing.
It's just a simple two-hour, general surgery, today. It is supposed to be an outpatient surgery, but we've encountered "supposedly-s" all throughout this ordeal and are not getting our hopes up. Here's the kicker...I love Doctor Lee. He's definitely my favorite out of all mom's doctors. However, he failed to realize mom was on a steroid for most of her chemo and a little after. This whole time Doctor Lee and Doctor Mayer were trying to say it was her smoking that was causing the delayed healing, but in fact, it was the steroid. Did Doctor Lee actually admit this? Not in so many words, but he did inform us that steroids could cause delayed healing. He didn't catch this steroid fact until last week...pretty pissy, ay? Duh.
Good news is, she's quit smoking. Isn't always in a good mood, sometimes she won't shut up because she's used to smoking and talking so she talks longer and faster to keep er mind off it - LMAO - but she's quit...for now. If she can't get healed enough to do the radiation she'll start smoking again. I don't blame her. A body can only take so much and look at all the freaking crap she's been through! This is such bullshit...
Tracey and I have to start getting tested at 38. How did we come to this conclusion? My mom was 48 when she was diagnosed. You subtract 10 years from the age your family member was diagnosed. If that number is under 40, you get checked at that age. If not, you can wait until you're at least 40.
You know what else sucks for my mom? Scott and I are getting a divorce. She's asked if it was her fault. It's definitely NOT her fault. The fact she would ask, brings me to tears. If anything, her situation helped me grow, unfortunately at her expense. Scott and I just grew in different directions, I guess. Isn't life interesting?
Wish my mom luck...she's gonna need it...
***UPDATE 4/8/10***
My mom ended up having to stay in the hospital overnight. My mom was supposed to be Doctor Lee's second case of the day, but they needed to move his first case up and his third case back in scheduling. Apparently, which shouldn't have been a surprise to us, they didn't do either. So they take my mom back into pre-op and start doing their thing. We get to go see her before her surgery and they give her some valium. They told us they were moving her time up, so they were all rushing around to get her ready in time. They told us she was going back so we went to get some lunch (thanks to my Uncle Rick, by the way, because he bought us lunch). They come running up the stairs trying to catch us. They informed us that scheduling was screwed up so after my mom had just been through all that, they were going to make her wait 2 1/2 hours!
I was pissed. I had moved softball practice to 3:30 and made my girls wait for no reason at all. As a matter of fact, I found out after my practice that my mom didn't even get into surgery until 3:15. I think there is seriously something wrong with the people who take care of the clerical stuff like scheduling in that hospital. There is always something with St. Francis, scheduling, handwriting, lying, bitches...ALWAYS. Thank God for somewhat decent doctors.
Anyway, because she finished her surgery so late, Doctor Lee suggested she stay the night. They ended up only taking her right side completely out, washing it and replacing the cadaver expander. On the left side, they only cut out the surface infection. Mom got home around noon today. Since she didn't have to have all of her breast tissue scraped out this time, she isn't in as much pain. She's doing well and resting, but nothing is keeping her from going to my sister's games...she insists on going tomorrow. I don't blame her. It IS my sister's senior year.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
MY JOURNEY Through My Mother's Breast Cancer: Weight Loss
There is so much I could put here. I'll just start with the basics...
The day my mom found out about her cancer it was just another normal day for me. Raigen and I had gotten up around 11-ish in the morning. I'd just finished brewing a pot of coffee. My phone rang and my caller-ID showed it was my mom. I picked it up because I had been on stand-by anyway to find out what the test results were. It wasn't my mom's voice. It was Kathy Biggs, a wonderful teacher I had subbed for at the school. She told me everything was ok and that my mom was fine, she just wanted me to come over, that she needed me. I knew the moment Kathy told me it was her and she confirmed it when she said my mom wanted me to come over, the it was, in fact, cancer. I stayed calm. I got Raigen into some clothes, warmed up the car and went over there. Kathy wasn't there, but my mom and dad were on the front porch. They hadn't even unlocked the door to go in. My mom was sitting on the bench, bent over with her arms on her knees, and her face in her hands. We walked up and all I said was, "I take it the results were positive?" - more of a statement than a question, but what else do I say? My Aunt Beth showed up and we all talked for a while.
I had been trying to lose weight. I had weighed about 120 pounds since my 6th grade year up until before I was pregnant the first time. After I'd found out I'd lost the first baby, I weighed about 150 pounds. Then after I had Raigen, my postpartum depression was so bad, they thought I was bi-polar and the meds they put me on made me gain 50 pounds in about 3 months. I ended up weighing 200 pounds by the time the doctor's realized I wasn't bi-polar, that I was just EXTREMELY depressed. The sleep meds they had me on for my bi-polar depression were causing me to "sleep-eat" which is when you sleepwalk to the kitchen, make food (even whole meals), eat and then go back to bed without ever remembering it - therefore I gained all that weight. When I finally weened myself off the new depression meds, I worked out for a while and that wasn't working. I looked up the Biggest Loser stuff and started following their diets and tricks, so I had lost a little weight, but out of nowhere my mom says, "did you lose more weight?" It surprised me considering what she had just found out.
The doctor appointments started. I didn't cry, I didn't even get upset. I called everyone that needed to be called. I scheduled everything that needed to be scheduled. One night, when I was still staying at home, I talked to Scott about a few things that were bothering me. My dad was the one who had all the health problems; high cholesterol, eye problems, degenerative genes,...you name it, he had it. My mom was as healthy as a horse, other than her smoking and a mild case of cervical cancer she'd beat with a simple cone-biopsy ten years before all this. She hadn't been back to the doctor since. Why did it happen to my mom? It wasn't that I wanted it to happen to my dad. He was just who I expected something to happen to. If, for some reason, my mom didn't make it, my dad wouldn't make it much longer after that - all this stuff just blurted out of my mouth to my husband. He reassured me everything would be okay and I was fine.
We went to the first doctor appointment with her surgeon, Doctor King, to discuss the verdict of treatment. Her cancer was more invasive than we'd thought and she'd have to have chemo. On the way home from this treatment, I lost it. My daughter was asleep, my dad was driving, and my mom was trying to rest on the way home, so they had no idea. I cried and cried and cried. I even tried to scream, but nothing came out. I knew I had to be calm before we got home because if my parents realized how red my face was they would start asking questions and neither of them needed that right then. I got myself together and it was cool. I hadn't slept at all the night before, so I was really tired. The night before was when I started my blog.
When we met with her oncologist and found out she would definitely be losing her hair from the chemo, I asked Doctor Mayer if she agreed with the statistic that people who lose their hair during chemo tend to accept the concept easier if someone shaves their head in support of the person doing the chemotherapy. She said no because she feels it tends to rub it in the patients face how it's not only affecting them, but it makes them feel like they're affecting someone else's life in a bad way. My mom and I had already talked about it and she said that she definitely did NOT want me shaving my head, even though I had done it the day of my graduation from high school. That was my way of showing the world I was starting a new chapter in my life. I've always been weird like that. If I broke up with some douche-bag of a boyfriend, I either cut my hair, dyed my hair, or got a new piercing or tattoo. Rarely, I went on a shopping spree. I hate shopping, though, so I didn't do that so often.
We went to a place called Mongolia's in Mooresville to get her a wig. Most of the people that work there used to work at O'Dells, a hair salon that was over by Value Market (what used to be called Jackson's), so my mom knew a few of the ladies that worked there. You would think that shop would be wonderful. Ummm...NO. They acted like my mom was a nobody and then told her "not everyone looks good bald," - not something my mom needed to hear at that point. The lady said she would order some stuff for my mom and made another appointment for my mom to come in and look at it before she made a final decision as to what she wanted. We showed up a week later at the appointment and the lady hadn't ordered a thing. She didn't even remember she was supposed to. Then she told us she had, but she brought out the same wigs we'd already tried. It was soooo frustrating. My mom chose one and paid for it. It was cute, but not what she wanted. We asked for a catalog and they didn't have any.
Doctor Mayer gave us a copy of the greatest book ever written and compiled for breast cancer patients and families. It's called 100 Questions & Answers About Breast Cancer
by Zora K. Brown and Harold P. Freeman, MD with Elizabeth Platt. The night we got home from the first visit to Doctor Mayer's office, I read that book from cover to cover. It's a very easy read and it explains every single thing imaginable about breast cancer. It said shaving my head in support of my mom was up to my mom and how it would make her feel. This totally makes sense, common sense actually, but as Status Shuffle on Facebook says, "how is it considered common sense when it's actually rare to find in most people?" LMAO. A few days later, my mom said she doesn't want me shaving my head, but "what about if you did something like what you did for your high school graduation?" Interesting how I'd thought that from the start, isn't it? I told her that if that was what she wanted, it would be no problem at all. We picked out a Halle Barry pixie-cut the same day and two days later my hair was cut.
I wish I could say it went as smoothly for my mom. I cut everyone's hair in my family, except my own for obvious reasons. Mom said she wanted me to do her shaving so she wasn't having it done in front of a bunch of strange people. She kept saying she was worried she had a funny shaped head and she would look terrible. I took it slow with her. I tried to make jokes by threatening mulletts and mohawks. I actually did accomplish the mohawk idea at one point. It was a little to the side, kind of like Will I Am's from the Black Eyed Peas. When I had accomplished the sideways mohawk, my mom wanted to see what the lack of hair on her head looked like. She looked at her reflection in the kitchen window. She started to cry - not a hysterical cry or anything - just a few tears. When I finished with the bulk of it and cleaned up her neck and ears, she rubbed her head. We picked out a couple chunks from the different colored strands of the the hair we had just cut off to save for her scrapbook. She asked if she had a funny shaped head. I couldn't believe it. She had the most perfect circle of a head I've ever seen! I asked Raigen what shape mamaw's head was and she said a "circle." She didn't have any bumps, "hot dogs", discoloration, nothing. It was just flat-out perfect.
My dad didn't take it so hot either. He was fine when he saw it at first, but when my mom asked him what was wrong he just started to run out to the garage - his sanctuary. My mom told him to wait and to tell her what was wrong. When he turned around, he had tears in his eyes. That is EXTREMELY rare for my dad. I can only remember him crying two other times in my whole life - at my grandpa's (his dad's) funeral and my wedding reception during the Daddy-Daughter Dance. He told my mom he was just hurting. When my mom asked why, he said he just couldn't understand why she had to go through this. I think the fact she had cancer finally set in when he saw she was losing her hair to the point we had to cut it, but he did agree she had a wonderful head!
Mom was scared Raigen wouldn't want to be around her because she thought she was ugly. I asked Raigen to give mamaw a hug. She did without hesitation and then said rubbed mom's head and said, "mamaw pretty." My mom started crying again at the thought that her only granddaughter thought she was pretty without hair. Then Raigen tried to climb up on the barstool we were using to cut my mom's hair and said, "me hair too!" My mom really started crying then. I even teared up at the thought that my daughter didn't have a clue as to what was really going on and she still wanted to be just like mamaw. Raigen gave her the therapy she needed without even knowing it...
After she had gone a few treatments without hair, I was at work and a patron told me about Wigs We Care. It's a boutique for cancer patients, like Magnolia's, off of Madison Avenue in Greenwood. One afternoon I asked mom if she wanted to go there to kill time in between appointments. She agreed and when we got there, we were amazed. They were wonderful! The ladies greeted us immediately and helped us so much my mom was mad she'd ever gone to Magnolia's to start with. They had the wigs she wanted, the scarves, everything. They taught us little tricks with T-shirts on how to make them into caps, how to tie an "Izzy scarf," even told us they could order stuff we wanted if we didn't see it on the shelf. Many of the ladies that work there have survived cancer themselves. One lady makes jewelry and sells it in the shop. I found these necklaces she'd made that were beautiful. I bought one for my mom and I, and ordered one for my sister. They had breast cancer guardian angels on them, but mine and my sister's had just the plain guardian angel on it. My mom's had the survivor's guardian angel on it, to carry her through to survival and prevent a relapse. Mine and my mom's necklaces both broke at one point so we took them back to her and she had them fixed free of charge and no questions asked! She actually apologized a hundred times too. They were $12 each and all the money she makes from the jewelry goes to breast cancer research! Wigs We Care is FANTASTIC!
As the next few weeks went on, I was eating better because I was with my parents more and I only ate when they ate. The weight just started melting off. The combination of eating better and not eating when I was bored and following the Biggest Loser made it easy to maintain the weight loss. I didn't keep track of my weight though. I didn't even weigh myself. I kept track of my inches lost. Between September 2009 and January 2010, I've lost 45 pounds and met my goal of having a 36 inch waist. I started at a 43 inch waist.
I wasn't able to get anxious about losing weight because I was dealing with family issues. It's not like I'm glad my mom got cancer. If I could've chosen to be the one to get cancer, I would've, but that obviously wasn't an option. It worked out in everyone's favor though. I know this is gross for some people, but when you gain a crap-ton of weight, most people's mojo isn't exactly where their husbands want it to be. Well, after losing that weight, my mojo improved, I was able to dress how I wanted to, and I was in a good mood more often than I was when I was heavier. Now, I'm at the stage where I want to work out again. I can walk up a flight of stairs without being out of breath or hurting to the point I would rather take the elevator or ride one of those Segway thingies.
I just need the motivation. I workout with a partner waayyyyy better than when I work out by myself. The problem is, I always get my motivation to work out at night, when you're not supposed to. Working out causes a boost in adrenaline and keeps you energized throughout the day. When I work out in the morning or afternoon, I always want to take a nap, but can't because of having a two-year-old that doesn't take naps. If I work out when I'm motivated at one in the morning, my adrenaline keeps me up for another four hours. It's so frustrating. Plus, I don't have a partner to work out with. My schedule is so fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants that I can't have a set time to work out and that brings my partner options to zero. I guess working out by myself and not pushing myself to my fullest extent is better than not working out at all.
The day my mom found out about her cancer it was just another normal day for me. Raigen and I had gotten up around 11-ish in the morning. I'd just finished brewing a pot of coffee. My phone rang and my caller-ID showed it was my mom. I picked it up because I had been on stand-by anyway to find out what the test results were. It wasn't my mom's voice. It was Kathy Biggs, a wonderful teacher I had subbed for at the school. She told me everything was ok and that my mom was fine, she just wanted me to come over, that she needed me. I knew the moment Kathy told me it was her and she confirmed it when she said my mom wanted me to come over, the it was, in fact, cancer. I stayed calm. I got Raigen into some clothes, warmed up the car and went over there. Kathy wasn't there, but my mom and dad were on the front porch. They hadn't even unlocked the door to go in. My mom was sitting on the bench, bent over with her arms on her knees, and her face in her hands. We walked up and all I said was, "I take it the results were positive?" - more of a statement than a question, but what else do I say? My Aunt Beth showed up and we all talked for a while.
I had been trying to lose weight. I had weighed about 120 pounds since my 6th grade year up until before I was pregnant the first time. After I'd found out I'd lost the first baby, I weighed about 150 pounds. Then after I had Raigen, my postpartum depression was so bad, they thought I was bi-polar and the meds they put me on made me gain 50 pounds in about 3 months. I ended up weighing 200 pounds by the time the doctor's realized I wasn't bi-polar, that I was just EXTREMELY depressed. The sleep meds they had me on for my bi-polar depression were causing me to "sleep-eat" which is when you sleepwalk to the kitchen, make food (even whole meals), eat and then go back to bed without ever remembering it - therefore I gained all that weight. When I finally weened myself off the new depression meds, I worked out for a while and that wasn't working. I looked up the Biggest Loser stuff and started following their diets and tricks, so I had lost a little weight, but out of nowhere my mom says, "did you lose more weight?" It surprised me considering what she had just found out.
The doctor appointments started. I didn't cry, I didn't even get upset. I called everyone that needed to be called. I scheduled everything that needed to be scheduled. One night, when I was still staying at home, I talked to Scott about a few things that were bothering me. My dad was the one who had all the health problems; high cholesterol, eye problems, degenerative genes,...you name it, he had it. My mom was as healthy as a horse, other than her smoking and a mild case of cervical cancer she'd beat with a simple cone-biopsy ten years before all this. She hadn't been back to the doctor since. Why did it happen to my mom? It wasn't that I wanted it to happen to my dad. He was just who I expected something to happen to. If, for some reason, my mom didn't make it, my dad wouldn't make it much longer after that - all this stuff just blurted out of my mouth to my husband. He reassured me everything would be okay and I was fine.
We went to the first doctor appointment with her surgeon, Doctor King, to discuss the verdict of treatment. Her cancer was more invasive than we'd thought and she'd have to have chemo. On the way home from this treatment, I lost it. My daughter was asleep, my dad was driving, and my mom was trying to rest on the way home, so they had no idea. I cried and cried and cried. I even tried to scream, but nothing came out. I knew I had to be calm before we got home because if my parents realized how red my face was they would start asking questions and neither of them needed that right then. I got myself together and it was cool. I hadn't slept at all the night before, so I was really tired. The night before was when I started my blog.
When we met with her oncologist and found out she would definitely be losing her hair from the chemo, I asked Doctor Mayer if she agreed with the statistic that people who lose their hair during chemo tend to accept the concept easier if someone shaves their head in support of the person doing the chemotherapy. She said no because she feels it tends to rub it in the patients face how it's not only affecting them, but it makes them feel like they're affecting someone else's life in a bad way. My mom and I had already talked about it and she said that she definitely did NOT want me shaving my head, even though I had done it the day of my graduation from high school. That was my way of showing the world I was starting a new chapter in my life. I've always been weird like that. If I broke up with some douche-bag of a boyfriend, I either cut my hair, dyed my hair, or got a new piercing or tattoo. Rarely, I went on a shopping spree. I hate shopping, though, so I didn't do that so often.
We went to a place called Mongolia's in Mooresville to get her a wig. Most of the people that work there used to work at O'Dells, a hair salon that was over by Value Market (what used to be called Jackson's), so my mom knew a few of the ladies that worked there. You would think that shop would be wonderful. Ummm...NO. They acted like my mom was a nobody and then told her "not everyone looks good bald," - not something my mom needed to hear at that point. The lady said she would order some stuff for my mom and made another appointment for my mom to come in and look at it before she made a final decision as to what she wanted. We showed up a week later at the appointment and the lady hadn't ordered a thing. She didn't even remember she was supposed to. Then she told us she had, but she brought out the same wigs we'd already tried. It was soooo frustrating. My mom chose one and paid for it. It was cute, but not what she wanted. We asked for a catalog and they didn't have any.
by Zora K. Brown and Harold P. Freeman, MD with Elizabeth Platt. The night we got home from the first visit to Doctor Mayer's office, I read that book from cover to cover. It's a very easy read and it explains every single thing imaginable about breast cancer. It said shaving my head in support of my mom was up to my mom and how it would make her feel. This totally makes sense, common sense actually, but as Status Shuffle on Facebook says, "how is it considered common sense when it's actually rare to find in most people?" LMAO. A few days later, my mom said she doesn't want me shaving my head, but "what about if you did something like what you did for your high school graduation?" Interesting how I'd thought that from the start, isn't it? I told her that if that was what she wanted, it would be no problem at all. We picked out a Halle Barry pixie-cut the same day and two days later my hair was cut.I wish I could say it went as smoothly for my mom. I cut everyone's hair in my family, except my own for obvious reasons. Mom said she wanted me to do her shaving so she wasn't having it done in front of a bunch of strange people. She kept saying she was worried she had a funny shaped head and she would look terrible. I took it slow with her. I tried to make jokes by threatening mulletts and mohawks. I actually did accomplish the mohawk idea at one point. It was a little to the side, kind of like Will I Am's from the Black Eyed Peas. When I had accomplished the sideways mohawk, my mom wanted to see what the lack of hair on her head looked like. She looked at her reflection in the kitchen window. She started to cry - not a hysterical cry or anything - just a few tears. When I finished with the bulk of it and cleaned up her neck and ears, she rubbed her head. We picked out a couple chunks from the different colored strands of the the hair we had just cut off to save for her scrapbook. She asked if she had a funny shaped head. I couldn't believe it. She had the most perfect circle of a head I've ever seen! I asked Raigen what shape mamaw's head was and she said a "circle." She didn't have any bumps, "hot dogs", discoloration, nothing. It was just flat-out perfect.
My dad didn't take it so hot either. He was fine when he saw it at first, but when my mom asked him what was wrong he just started to run out to the garage - his sanctuary. My mom told him to wait and to tell her what was wrong. When he turned around, he had tears in his eyes. That is EXTREMELY rare for my dad. I can only remember him crying two other times in my whole life - at my grandpa's (his dad's) funeral and my wedding reception during the Daddy-Daughter Dance. He told my mom he was just hurting. When my mom asked why, he said he just couldn't understand why she had to go through this. I think the fact she had cancer finally set in when he saw she was losing her hair to the point we had to cut it, but he did agree she had a wonderful head!
Mom was scared Raigen wouldn't want to be around her because she thought she was ugly. I asked Raigen to give mamaw a hug. She did without hesitation and then said rubbed mom's head and said, "mamaw pretty." My mom started crying again at the thought that her only granddaughter thought she was pretty without hair. Then Raigen tried to climb up on the barstool we were using to cut my mom's hair and said, "me hair too!" My mom really started crying then. I even teared up at the thought that my daughter didn't have a clue as to what was really going on and she still wanted to be just like mamaw. Raigen gave her the therapy she needed without even knowing it...
After she had gone a few treatments without hair, I was at work and a patron told me about Wigs We Care. It's a boutique for cancer patients, like Magnolia's, off of Madison Avenue in Greenwood. One afternoon I asked mom if she wanted to go there to kill time in between appointments. She agreed and when we got there, we were amazed. They were wonderful! The ladies greeted us immediately and helped us so much my mom was mad she'd ever gone to Magnolia's to start with. They had the wigs she wanted, the scarves, everything. They taught us little tricks with T-shirts on how to make them into caps, how to tie an "Izzy scarf," even told us they could order stuff we wanted if we didn't see it on the shelf. Many of the ladies that work there have survived cancer themselves. One lady makes jewelry and sells it in the shop. I found these necklaces she'd made that were beautiful. I bought one for my mom and I, and ordered one for my sister. They had breast cancer guardian angels on them, but mine and my sister's had just the plain guardian angel on it. My mom's had the survivor's guardian angel on it, to carry her through to survival and prevent a relapse. Mine and my mom's necklaces both broke at one point so we took them back to her and she had them fixed free of charge and no questions asked! She actually apologized a hundred times too. They were $12 each and all the money she makes from the jewelry goes to breast cancer research! Wigs We Care is FANTASTIC!
Breast Cancer Guardian Angel Charm
Breast Cancer Survival Angel Charm
I wasn't able to get anxious about losing weight because I was dealing with family issues. It's not like I'm glad my mom got cancer. If I could've chosen to be the one to get cancer, I would've, but that obviously wasn't an option. It worked out in everyone's favor though. I know this is gross for some people, but when you gain a crap-ton of weight, most people's mojo isn't exactly where their husbands want it to be. Well, after losing that weight, my mojo improved, I was able to dress how I wanted to, and I was in a good mood more often than I was when I was heavier. Now, I'm at the stage where I want to work out again. I can walk up a flight of stairs without being out of breath or hurting to the point I would rather take the elevator or ride one of those Segway thingies.
I just need the motivation. I workout with a partner waayyyyy better than when I work out by myself. The problem is, I always get my motivation to work out at night, when you're not supposed to. Working out causes a boost in adrenaline and keeps you energized throughout the day. When I work out in the morning or afternoon, I always want to take a nap, but can't because of having a two-year-old that doesn't take naps. If I work out when I'm motivated at one in the morning, my adrenaline keeps me up for another four hours. It's so frustrating. Plus, I don't have a partner to work out with. My schedule is so fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants that I can't have a set time to work out and that brings my partner options to zero. I guess working out by myself and not pushing myself to my fullest extent is better than not working out at all.
While all this with my mom was happening, I started noticing that the doctors didn't talk directly to my mom or dad. They would always look at me. My mom said it was because they could tell I was calm enough to take it all in and make sense of it. She said I was like her and dad's translator. The doctors would say what they needed to say, then later, I would explain everything in lay-man's terms to them. Lol. Whatever works, I guess.
Toward the end of my mom's chemo, Hermione and Doctor Mayer noticed I'd lost weight. They both gave me this speech about how short the span of my mom's chemo treatments are and that it looks to them like I've lost way too much weight in that short period of time to be doing it the healthy way. My mom and I explained that I had made a VERY drastic change in my diet, as well as being up moving around a lot more. They said that was fine, but to be careful. I appreciated Hum and Mary Lou's concern, but they also didn't see what kind of a life I lead before my mom got cancer.
Now, we are all doing just fine. My mom was prescribed Chantix and is trying to quit smoking. My mom's hair is growing back so darn fast and her spacers make her boobs so perky that I'm jealous! I'm at least maintaining my shape now and not gaining the weight back, and Little Red....thinks she's sixteen instead of 2 1/2...rotflol...
September 2009
January 2010
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