Posts Tagged ‘Pictures!’
Morning Blues
In case anyone was wondering, this is what was hurting me yesterday/is still hurting me today:
See those teeth? They were cracked last week when I was hit in the face with the text book that fell out of my closet. The dentist told me that I could tell him “what really hit me in the face” and if it was “really a text book or a fist” but I’m sticking to my text book story. In the long run, the text book can’t deprive me of things I need, should this get any worse.
I’m on Vicodin, antibiotics, and I can’t eat. The pain is just that bad. I need several root canals to fix the problem, but I just can’t get them done yet. I’m already taking double the pain medication, and I’m already building up a tolerance to it. I’ve taken double the dose today, and I’m going to try to go to work like this. It should make for an interesting day.
Taking the morning meds caused a lot of pain, even though I took them with room-temperature water:
Think that’s enough pills? That’s not even all of them. I’m missing two of my prescriptions and I doubt that I will be getting them any time soon because we have all this drama to go through. I imagine with the pain I’m having, and the lack of a blood pressure pill, my blood pressure is back up to 300/250. Yes, it gets that high.
Dennis is repeating things the LOLCow has said to me. Apparently, he was listening in on part of my phone conversation yesterday, and he went apeshit over OMG, me talking about things that apparently happened “years ago”, despite the LOLCow making the same pathetic threats that all the other losers eventually make (calling the JAG on me, and so fourth). It was amusing this morning when my alarm went off; it’s a ring tone that’s like an old phone ringer. He ran over to the phone to see who was calling me at this hour, and the joke was on him: It was just a ring tone. Still, to end some of the drama, I deleted the alarm. Is it wrong that I just want this to all be over?
Oh, and I’m a shitty mother. I told my autistic eight year old step son not to be horrible this morning because he was singing at the top of his lungs, and now he won’t talk again. It’s going to be one of those days. Why haven’t the narcotics kicked in yet?
Putting It To Good Use
All that anger I thought I had bottled up inside me came out today. It came out in the form of going to the store and buying several bags of groceries, enough so that I had to take two buggies of the food bagged up to the car. Although, I accidentally let go of one of the buggies, after it was empty, and it rolled down through the parking lot, did a 360 turn around in the street and actually started back towards me, up the hill, I managed to avoid catastrophe at the store.
Getting home, the energy formally known as anger came out in me bringing in several bags of groceries, putting away all that food, and then calling Mark up and demanding that he get over to take me to the post office, since I had boxes to mail out.
Coming home from there, the energy came through when I straightened up the sheets on the bed, and then cleaned the dresser. Believe me, it needed it:
Before:
After:
All the gaming controllers, games and DVDs are tucked away under the bed in the drawers to the bed. Perfect place for them.
I go back to work Monday (yuck). Hopefully, I can get through the week. I need a full paycheck!
What amazes me is that I still have energy to spare. I want to clean some more, but I don’t believe there’s anything here left to clean up.
Addicted
I’m not an addict or anything:
I have to wait twenty more days before my next dose???
And yes, I would have put up a count down for September, October, November and December, but my calendar only goes through August.
I will be posting pictures from the convention after work tomorrow. I have a lot of uploading to do do, and I don’t have a lot of time to do it, since our internet is tied up with my mom downloading dozens of gigs of movies.
Resting on the shelf in my closet was a fabric, hard-cover journal with a yellow and orange ribbon bookmark and a dragonfly charm attached to it. The cover has the faint smell of the incense he burned daily to ward off the bad spirits. The white pages with their orange lines give off the faint smell of the perfume that he wore. Reading through the pages I recalled things that had happened back then. I recalled things that had transformed from memories to forgotten memories, to words written in faded ink from Mystix pens onto the thin pages of the journal that was custom made.
His words stung my heart and my tears stung my eyes. But the mystery of the journal’s origins perplexed me. Where did it come from? I had cleaned off that shelf in the closet many times since his death, and the journal was not there before. I thumbed through the pages, through the cruel winter, the harsh summer, and to the fall when he health really started to fail. I read about the pain, the misery, the hardness. I read about the friendships he had made on his one gateway to the outside: The internet. That fall, we had taken him out of school, we told him he could do whatever he wanted and whenever he wanted. But what he wanted most was to graduate and go on to college. My husband and I had talked with his principal and gotten him back in class. He made such good grades they let him graduate that year. He was accepted into the college of his dreams.
My husband and I became the worst parents in existence over the next three months. We let him think that he was going to live. That he was going to get well and grow up and graduate from college and get married and have a family. We let him think that the future was bright and everything was going to be okay. Mostly, we let him believe that he had gotten well, and that was the reason he no longer needed chemotherapy or surgeries or radiation. We didn’t have the heart to tell him that the doctors had given up and told us that at this point it would be considered “child abuse” to pursue treatments. I remember smiling and telling him that he was going to be okay and go back to school with his friends and that everything was going to turn out fine.
Hope was better than all of the medications we could give him for the pain; the pain subsided. He was able to walk further. He did great in school. I have never forgiven myself for letting that continue. I still haven’t. His journal entries were happy and light at this time in his life. The world was a beautiful place.
Then, that Christmas, we hadn’t expected him to be alive. We hadn’t gotten him anything with the rest of the family. The night before Christmas, I upped his pain medication a little, hoping that he would sleep through the gift-giving madness of the next morning. It worked, until my daughter looked up and saw him standing there in the living room doorway, a look of shock and horror on his face. She called out his name and ran to him, carrying a huge, over-stuffed stocking of candy and treats that she and I had filled the night before.
He asked one question that broke my heart forever:
“Why are you having Christmas without me?”
His grandfather gave a reply that still floors me to this day:
“Hell, you’ve been terminal since September. We figured you’d be dead by now.”
Reading the words in the journal made me cry once again. I remembered the look he gave me. It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t shock, it wasn’t horror. It was simply sadness. He didn’t even cry that morning. I wished he would have. It would have made me feel as if I had truly done something wrong. He just turned and left his family to open their presents, and he never really came back.
On Boxing Day, my husband and I offered to take him to any store in the world and buy him whatever he wanted for Christmas. He said he didn’t want to be forgotten – no, his words were, “Don’t let me be forgotten.” The next morning, I woke to him sleeping across the foot of my bed. On the 28th, he was screaming in pain from the cancer. That night, I tried to drown out the screams. I gave him every ounce of narcotics I could find, and it wasn’t enough. He was suffering. I made the call. I called for the emergency crews to come.
The journal was kept up until he did die: He died of gall stones, the day before his 20th birthday. Of all the things that had gone wrong with him, that was the one thing that killed him. It was 100% preventable, and it was 100% our fault that it wasn’t looked into. With all the pain and suffering he went through, his doctor assumed it was more cancer in another place, and gave him stronger meds.
The last page of the journal read that I was not a failure, but he knew forgiveness was important to me, so he forgave me. He wrote that he was not suffering, but that he wasn’t thinking clearly, either. The writing is scrawled and slanted off the lines, the ink is smeared and faded, the pages are torn and stained with a red substance, but the message is still clear.
I am left wondering what to do with the journal. Should I put it back? Should I have it published? What should I do?
Wanting to feel, to know what is real
I watched the thunderstorm this evening. When I was aware that it was going on, that is. I love watching the stormy weather. The lightening light up the sky, the thunder crash. The walls of the house shaking from the hard thunder. Surprisingly, the kids were mellowed out during the storm. I watched the lightening flicker across the darkened sky. Thoughts of yesterday and my graduation came back to me. It was raining quite violently when I graduated. The storm shook the auditorium. My anger at the people there shook my core. But I smiled through the anger. I smiled through the disputes. I smiled, got the degree, and made a small vow to myself. I am going to get away from these people.
After the graduation ceremony, my mother hit me up for money. What. The. Hell. She only came to my graduation to ask me for money? I told her I didn’t have any on me, and she suggested that I sell my things again. What…? How many people have their moms come to their graduation only to have her demand money out of them? Yes, I think I am in a class by myself. She picked a fight with me. She told me she knew who I was married to. Good for you, you’re now in the same boat as 90% of the rest of the world. I was stressing. I was losing it. I slipped out of the auditorium, mooched a cigarette and from a group outside, and stood there in the canopy of the auditorium, watching the rain fall, as I blackened my lungs some more.
I didn’t hear Matt come out of the auditorium. I didn’t know he was there until he spoke. “I thought you quit,” he said. I shrugged. “I did,” I replied, taking another drag. “It was a nice graduation. You were third in the class,” he said. “Lance beat me,” I muttered. “His father is a doctor. And alumni of the school,” Matt replied. I scoffed. So because his dad graduated from the school and became a doctor, they should just pass the guy? I think I saw him all of five times in the three years I was in medical school. “I know I didn’t know you when you started, but I’ve seen you through most of the journey. I’m glad that you finished,” Matt said. I sighed. “Chris was supposed to be here,” I replied. “How many people made it through? Twenty out of a hundred?” Matt asked. “Twenty two out of one-seventy-five,” I replied. It was true. Out of the 175 people who had been in ‘freshman orientation’ in the fall of 2007, 21 of us made it across the stage that day. Most people had dropped out. The next largest group had been unable to continue their education due to finances. The next changed majors. Some had to leave. One person had died. Chris. “They’re still going to put his name on the wall,” Matt said. “Yeah. Right under Jess’.” I replied. We were quiet for a few moments.
“Look at that!” Matt said suddenly and pointed to the Eastern Sky.
Spread across the darkened sky was a bold, double rainbow. The sun had popped out in the western sky, yet the rain still pounded down on the Eastern horizon. “Do you know what double rainbows mean?” I asked. “Scientifically, I do,” he replied. I smiled. “According to legend, it means someone you love is saying good bye from beyond,” I replied. I didn’t go into the details of how I had been having nightmares about Chris, where Chris was mad at me. I didn’t understand those night terrors. I had done nothing to make Chris mad at me when he died.
We watched the rainbow until it dissolved into the darkened horizon. Matt snapped a picture of it with his camera (it’s terrible web-quality).
While the violent storms were going on tonight, I thought of that rainbow. I thought of the journey I have been on for the past three years. I’ve forgotten why I even came down this road. The job I loved is gone. The person I loved to do it with is gone. There seems no rhyme or reason for me to continue, or to even be here. But here I am. That window will open for me again. I just know it.
Wanting to feel, to know what is real
I watched the thunderstorm this evening. When I was aware that it was going on, that is. I love watching the stormy weather. The lightening light up the sky, the thunder crash. The walls of the house shaking from the hard thunder. Surprisingly, the kids were mellowed out during the storm. I watched the lightening flicker across the darkened sky. Thoughts of yesterday and my graduation came back to me. It was raining quite violently when I graduated. The storm shook the auditorium. My anger at the people there shook my core. But I smiled through the anger. I smiled through the disputes. I smiled, got the degree, and made a small vow to myself. I am going to get away from these people.
After the graduation ceremony, my mother hit me up for money. What. The. Hell. She only came to my graduation to ask me for money? I told her I didn’t have any on me, and she suggested that I sell my things again. What…? How many people have their moms come to their graduation only to have her demand money out of them? Yes, I think I am in a class by myself. She picked a fight with me. She told me she knew who I was married to. Good for you, you’re now in the same boat as 90% of the rest of the world. I was stressing. I was losing it. I slipped out of the auditorium, mooched a cigarette and from a group outside, and stood there in the canopy of the auditorium, watching the rain fall, as I blackened my lungs some more.
I didn’t hear Matt come out of the auditorium. I didn’t know he was there until he spoke. “I thought you quit,” he said. I shrugged. “I did,” I replied, taking another drag. “It was a nice graduation. You were third in the class,” he said. “Lance beat me,” I muttered. “His father is a doctor. And alumni of the school,” Matt replied. I scoffed. So because his dad graduated from the school and became a doctor, they should just pass the guy? I think I saw him all of five times in the three years I was in medical school. “I know I didn’t know you when you started, but I’ve seen you through most of the journey. I’m glad that you finished,” Matt said. I sighed. “Chris was supposed to be here,” I replied. “How many people made it through? Twenty out of a hundred?” Matt asked. “Twenty two out of one-seventy-five,” I replied. It was true. Out of the 175 people who had been in ‘freshman orientation’ in the fall of 2007, 21 of us made it across the stage that day. Most people had dropped out. The next largest group had been unable to continue their education due to finances. The next changed majors. Some had to leave. One person had died. Chris. “They’re still going to put his name on the wall,” Matt said. “Yeah. Right under Jess’.” I replied. We were quiet for a few moments.
“Look at that!” Matt said suddenly and pointed to the Eastern Sky.
Spread across the darkened sky was a bold, double rainbow. The sun had popped out in the western sky, yet the rain still pounded down on the Eastern horizon. “Do you know what double rainbows mean?” I asked. “Scientifically, I do,” he replied. I smiled. “According to legend, it means someone you love is saying good bye from beyond,” I replied. I didn’t go into the details of how I had been having nightmares about Chris, where Chris was mad at me. I didn’t understand those night terrors. I had done nothing to make Chris mad at me when he died.
We watched the rainbow until it dissolved into the darkened horizon. Matt snapped a picture of it with his camera (it’s terrible web-quality).
While the violent storms were going on tonight, I thought of that rainbow. I thought of the journey I have been on for the past three years. I’ve forgotten why I even came down this road. The job I loved is gone. The person I loved to do it with is gone. There seems no rhyme or reason for me to continue, or to even be here. But here I am. That window will open for me again. I just know it.
Last year we revisited my past of 19 years ago. Today, I have known my husband for twenty years. We started out as childhood friends and then progressed to teenage lovers. It wasn’t over night, and we’ve traveled down a long, winding road that was full of forks, full of bumps, full of hardships. But we overcame it all. I don’t know many people who can say they still have someone in their lives they met when they were nine years old.
Normally, I’m anticipating anniversaries long before they happen, birthdays too. But this year I was so focused on something else that I didn’t even notice that it was our anniversary until my husband came in and told me he had reservations for us. We’re going to go out for dinner and then have a night alone. I wonder if we’re going to try for a new record 
No more deprivation for me!
Before I slip off into the night of a thousand pleasures, I should post a picture of the huge spider that stalked me today:
I think it was poison. I didn’t kill it, but I scooped it in a bowl and tossed it out the front door. I haaaate spiders! I hate dealing with spiders. I hate dealing with any animal (bug, reptile) that is in a category with poisonous members. I don’t mind wild mice, rats, dogs, cats, but poison reptiles and bugs? Yep, that’s right there at the top of my list of things to avoid.
The baby sitter is secured. We’re off for the night. Don’t wait up.
★
