So really, its not that I'm actually dead or anything.

There are just those times that life gets weird and busy. This is one of those times. I have so much going on that I can't imagine remembering even half of it just to give you an idea. And the kicker is that most of it really isn't important. I mean it is, but it isn't, right?

I've been wanting to get on here and do more than shop for a cell phone or search for an ebay gem, but I can't. First, my pc is moving like Arte Johnson. If you don't get that reference, it is just really freakin' slow. I did join the gym like I'd wanted to do and make myself go, even when I'm tired or don't feel well. Which is most of the time, really - and what do you know... it hasn't killed me yet! Although tonight I came quite close. I was watching hockey and the Pens got a goal. Don't ever let go of the bars on a treadmill to pump your fists in the air shouting a 'woohoo' because it will not end well. See, you do learn something new every day.

I shall leave you with that thought. As I always promise, I'll try to come visiting within the next three days or so. I have so little time right now. Things are a bit out of control, some is my doing and some is just life. Although tired, I'm ok with it, but I do miss some of my normal activities that I found enjoyment in - like visiting you all. It'll get back. Hey, if I could actually pass up donuts and muffins today in lieu of half an apple, I can do any damned thing I set my sights on. =)

Because when I arrive, I bring the fire....

I'm pretty much as annoyed by that song as I find myself enjoying it. Pick the pace up and then we can 'let it rock'. Could be a nice dance-house/acid-house/techno bit. But it is just too slow. And the goofy spoken rap thing is just lame. And yet I listen for a minute before I turn the station....

Anyway. Lately, lots really. I'm asserting myself at work, even if the boss doesn't go for the ideas. At least he knows that I do give a shit about that place, even though I deny it most days. Right now everyone hates everyone else. Seriously. I have to try to fix it or leave. Simple.

There was a fundraiser for the shelter (feline) that my mom (and sometimes I) volunteer at. I got the most fundraiser sales plus cash donations and physical donations. I was told I could sell a freezer to an Eskimo. Funny thing is my opening line was, "So, who wants to buy some over-priced fundraiser cookies?"

I've been keeping up with the gym and enjoying it. I wish I could spend more time there but at 9 or 9:30p, you kind of just don't want to linger, you know? And the one trainer is a trip so he and I laugh like kids when we're there together.

Best of all, I've been shopping like a madwoman. Yes, I know I hate shopping, but not at the moment. And I don't think it's mania. I think I've lost myself in so many ways that I feel like I have nothing to define myself by, save my music. So I've shopped. And when all else falls away I will know I am me by my goth/rockabilly/pinup style. I want to be the girl that wears her rockabilly tulle dress with satin sash simply to shop for groceries. That way, I'll know it's me.

Remember my little surgery from a couple of months ago? Well, we might be having more of a problem. 'We' meaning my ovaries and I. The next few days will tell my course of action as far as a doc appt goes.

Oh, and did I mention that I'm utterly psychotic and unpredictable? Yesterday I did a u-turn in the middle of the road, slammed my car to a halt about 4" from the plate glass window of a store and got out screaming obscenities at my mother. Hey, she started it. Well, she did. We'll speak eventually. Of course this may have something to do with above topic.

Although it is just after midnight and I have yet to turn into a pumpkin, squash or gourd, I shall take my leave. Rest is required. After all, when I arrive, I bring the fire.

Be well xoxo

I never thought that going out in a blaze of glory meant almost getting arrested in WalMart optical.

But, when we're referring to me, anything is possible. Lets just say that any time I need to go to that store, I'll surely need to enter and exit from the far side lest Optical call security. It was ugly but this is the one thing I will say. When I walked in my lenses were fine, two minutes later they weren't. You utterly fucked them up and rendered them useless. And then. Then you had the nerve to tell me they were fine. As if you all agreed, I'd just cave in and agree too. Gee. The Emperor has no fucking clothes. My ass.

During my far-stretching excursions to remedy the above situation, which is hugely important - I'm blind as a bat with no echolocation, I almost get myself killed due to my car inexplicably stalling, crosswise, in the middle of two lanes. Thankfully I got going before the van hit me. He wasn't slowing down. These bastards are as mean as I am.

Enter a medical situation that was to be remedied with recent surgery. Whoomp! Descends on me like an 87-pound earthbound cloud. Apparently the surgery was not an immense success? So back to square 1.13; at least the pathology was clear, so that doesn't suck.

So what does this mean? The natives are restless my friend. Very fucking restless. When I get this restless I make decisions like a cobra strikes - quick, and does it ever pack a punch. Often, not the best ones, too. I'll just take off, catch an overpriced hockey game, cut/dye my hair, buy clothes with lots of metal on them. You know, kind of symbolic of the mental/emotional bondage I've got going on. Or I could just blow someone for a ticket. What's the big deal? Apparently I'm trying to disassociate while putting up some sort of fuss to delay it.

Damn it! Checked prices and don't think I can afford hockey. And I'm NOT doing anything more than blowing anyone for a ticket. But I do like hockey...

If only things had worked out differently in WalMart optical. Dude, my wires are seriously crossed.

Sometimes the urge to just sign out for a while is rather compelling.

And by 'sign out' I mean ignore all forms of communication (except B-grade movies and forgotten sitcoms of the early 80s), no talking to anyone (detox), eventually subsisting on condiments and dry cat food only changing clothes if the need absolutely arises. Showers don't even enter the equation.

It is no surprise to me that it is March and I feel this way. Beware the Ides of March to be sure. You'll want to fucking kill yourself by that time if you've been fortunate (and I use the term loosely) to make it this far. Well, either kill yourself or everyone else. Some of us aren't too particular. Lack of sunlight? Freezing temps? Winds of the ages? My guess is they all combine to be a giant pain in my ass. And yeah, perhaps a few others here in this portion of the hemisphere.

But screw them, I've just spent the past two days puking into various receptacles, public and non, yet have been fed the misinformation that the cold weather kills the viruses. Well, it surely didn't kill that little muthafucker now, did it?! I won't even begin to talk to you about my dining room floor.

So is it the weather? Being ill? General unhappiness with [enter topic here] in my life? Or is it just that I feel like my grip, however slight at times, is fading? Its as if the things I used to fight for are all falling by the wayside and I'm not even sure how much I care. Maybe after a full on cease-fire with the vomiting and some sunshine I could have a chance at answering that.

Michael Vincent is either the second coming or will need the help of the witness protection program.

Perhaps you aren't familiar with Michael Vincent but I suppose I'd have to say he and I are fairly close. Not to brag or anything; he emails me at least once a day if not more. And he knows things. Every day he emails me to say he's found me a new job. Huh. Without even asking, he just took it upon himself. How did he even know that I was considering it?? Creepy...

Ok, so I'm just referring to some irritating spam. But the thing is this: I am thisclose to taking him up on his offer. I'm to the point that I have to sedate myself again just to get through a shift. With that in mind, this job he claims to have had better be one found via divine intervention or if not, he'll want to seek protection. After all, I can find shit-ass jobs without anyone's help, thankyouverymuch.

I've been thinking about this. Yes, yes, I'm sure that comes as a shock. But when I boil it all down, there are just a few things core thing that are making me the poster child for How To Violently Self-Destruct in Three Easy Steps (dismembered action figure sold separately). Here they are in no special order. I'm being given too much responsibility without the tools I need to carry it out and coworkers that resist everything. It is a hostile environment with management that would rather not be bothered with anything less than a meeting with the CEO. Ok, so maybe just two main things, but they encompass alot.

I don't want to leave just to walk into something similar (I have a way of picking this scenario) but I'm not sure what to do or how to go about it. What do you think? Career change? Ideas? School? I'm just lost right now. I should know this answer but I don't. Unfortunately, I don't think Mr. Vincent does, either.

Have I mentioned that I hate wind?

Well if I haven't, I do. I will never own a convertible. I do not like the wind in my hair. It tangles my hair, makes my ears hurt and dries out my stinkin' eyeballs. Plus, it is just noisy. Blech, to all of it. Blech I say!! So last week we had sustained winds of over 60mph. And when I say sustained, I mean like for two days. That was our base wind speed not including the gusts. What does that get you?

This is the block next to the hospital.
There were six utility poles brought down, poles snapped like matchsticks. Running a hospital on generator power is a bit unsettling.

Meh, just a little FYI while I contemplate my next post. It's in my head already, I'm just reluctant to let it loose.

Z3r() (**plus)

(Dan, this one's for you.)

There are times that I would prefer to be delusional. I want to be the girl that gets irate when her boyfriend cheats on her with his wife. The person who denies their meth addiction while speaking through darkly eroded teeth. The one who continues to yell, come find me when the game of Hide & Seek is long over; the counter tapping them on the shoulder. The girl that continues to sing and act out a video long after the music stops even though she can't carry a tune in a bucket.

Hey wait, that last one IS me...

Anyway. My point is this. I can't be those people. I will never be them. I knew from the very start that the Emperor had no clothes and was never able to see things any other way. From time to time, I try, thinking that if I blend with the herd my life will be easier.

I cannot blend. I do not blend. That is what makes me, me. Some days it makes me feel the hurt of the ages. Other days, I just am. Over time I learned that left of center is where I fit best; an anchor of sorts that ensures I won't succumb to the Brownian movement of the herd.

Sometimes I wish I was one of those people; for the delusional, things are simpler. But comfort in my differentness guides me and I veer off, skipping and tripping along my own quirky, variable, off key path. Bucket optional.


Intoxicated with the madness, I'm in love with my sadness
Bullshit fakers, enchanted kingdoms
The fashion victims chew their charcoal teeth
I never let on, that I was on a sinking ship
I never let on that I was down
Wanna go for a ride?
(The Smashing Pumpkins, Zero)
~

** Truth be told, this sat in my draft folder overnight. Perhaps it was waiting for this... on my single hospital round this evening, I was faced with this mid-conversation comment: "You know, you aren't just left of center, its like you went full circle then stopped there!" The handful of us got a good laugh and I realized that that was the best compliment I've had in a while. Why? These people really like me and think rather highly of me. They don't like me in spite of my weirdness, they like me because of it. Its a good thing I don't know any other way to be.

I'm making myself see the humor here although the burning rubber makes that a tad difficult.

Every now and then I have so many things going on that I just up and spring a leak. Mentally speaking. And that is really quite alright with me. If I don't, the consequences could be dire when you stop and think about it. And it makes for some exquisitely bizarre dreams if I do say so myself. Just a little sidebar o' thought, not my actual topic.

If you haven't caught on yet, I am the sort of person that the word dichotomy was invented for. No really. I've been this way my entire life and as time went on, I suppose I learned to adapt and not spawn, so to speak. Accept your destiny and all that crap. Or was it 'density'? Anyway. I think that in accepting that I am the physical manifestation of the word dichotomy itself, I am able to see two sides of the same coin in certain circumstances as opposed to one. Lets go back in time a bit, shall we?

Here we are in the far ago time of... last week. I'm leaving work and as usual the parking lot is marginally worse than the roads, although they aren't anything to write home about, in reference to snow and ice. The sky is dark and the air is cold but I take the time to clean off any snow and ice built up under the wheel wells. Taking off I notice that my car seems to have taken on a life of it's own and blame it on the rotten parking lot. After two blocks I pull off - steering is difficult, there is some severe resistance, and now a giant cicada has taken up residence under my car as evidenced by the shrill squealing. I'm out of the car in a flash violently beating the remaining ice and snow chunks from around the tires while words I didn't even know I knew began to fly out of my mouth cursing winter. Back in the car...

And I inch along to a red light, then to another. By the time I get up to a cruising speed of above 6.5 mph, I find that I'm squealing and the resistance has certainly not gone away. Every flaw in the road has me struggling to maintain control. So I make a call and ask for someone to meet me once I got my car turned around to a place where the heavenly beings at AAA could tow my obviously defective car. Well. Due to copious amounts of snow and record-breaking low temps, I had not one place to turn around without blocking a driveway or ripping out the undercarriage of my car. I had no choice to keep going for 5 miles or so. When I finally pulled in, there was a huge clunk that rang out from under the car telling me that the sound was either a very good thing or a very, very bad thing...

So I walk around the car trying to see if an axle had perhaps busted into pieces but it appeared to be fine. The burning rubber smell was a bit disconcerting but hey, all four tires were fully inflated with no obvious damage, like a metal rod poking out, so what could I do? I opted to move down a building or two as this one didn't have a number and I wanted AAA to find me before I was frozen. It turns out the giant clunk was a good thing because my car was running fine after that happened! To be sure, I swapped cars with someone and they took mine to the dealer for a checkup. My car did well for them speeding down the freeway as well. In the end...

No one there had ever seen anything like it. Even the senior techs that have been working on cars for 30 years. According to them, it defies explanation but thankfully there was no major damage done. They say it most likely was ice in the wheel bearings or even a chunk of the pavement mixed in (from overzealous snowplowers) which would explain the clunk. Even so, they never saw it happen like this...

Um, yeah. That is a view of the tread of my tire. One of the techs took it for me (apparently on their gin and tonic break) and emailed it as I wasn't there. What you are looking at is the end result of driving on a locked wheel and dragging the ass end of the car. Yes, just one. They are puzzled as to how the other wheel managed to turn leaving this as the only one to lock. You can see from the outer edge the varying layers of disaster right down to the pale part in the center, which is the metal layer of the tread in the tire. How I accomplished this I will never know...

Yet I cannot help but be grateful that although I am unknowingly destructive, I was safe, now that I know it could have just given out at any moment - with me or the person that took it in for me. So without a clue, I utterly kill it but have the luck of it not rupturing and tossing me into an icy lake. Which is similar to the time I drove home one night on the freeway going 65mph or so, then managed to get a blow out on the road to my house going 25mph. Now really, who gets an actual blowout going 25mph?!?! Thankfully I do as I may not have made it through one at the previous speed. Or the more humorous time I drove almost 20 miles thinking there was a weather or traffic helicopter flying nearby only to learn that I had a flat (I'd never had one) and was hearing the remaining shreds flap about. Even then, I didn't so much as scratch the rim and the tire center happened to be late leaving that day. It was the day of one of my numerous moves; I never missed a beat.

$500 later we're all confused over what happened, except for the fact that I got new tires. Perhaps there is some little known patron saint of automobile tires that has permanently affixed itself to my being. Which is astonishingly cool, even if I am thrown to the wolves in other instances. I mean really, getting saved the by this little known patron saint so I don't crash only to save me so the rest of life's goons can get me up the arse. You gotta love it!
~

I lived! Yay, a bonus!

This will be quick. Thank you for your support from the surgery, Dr. Charm/Dr. Prick (he has many names...) and checking in when I disappear. So, here's the scoop. Things are all in place from surgery, all reports came back fine. Wheeeewh! I rested, or shall I say that I passed out daily for long lengths of time with a hearty gusto. I quite enjoyed it. Overlapping this procedure was the official diagnosis of Trigeminal Neuralgia. This is pure hell. I've included a link. The little video shows a super-quick surgery but if you read into symptoms, etc it'll give you an idea. I could barely get in and out of the car two days post-op and there I was at the neurologist for this. So read on that a bit and I should be back on the weekend. Perhaps the new meds will continue to help without breakthrough episodes. Hope all is well with you and I'll surely see you soon! xoxo =)

If it must be metal, make mine heavy. Mercury will do nicely.

First and foremost, I'd like to say that my mother's first post op, post radiation appointment was a great success! Still a few things to work on and tweak, but she's doing so well. On occasion she comments on how this was easier than she thought. That in comparison to many others, this seemed like a piece of cake. Where was her pain? Agony? Suffering? In her mind, she feels as if she cheated somehow; cancer diagnosis, surgery, radiation, cancer gone. Just that quick. She can't believe that she was just 'lucky'. Knowing her history, I told her that just perhaps all of the terrible and very unlucky things she went through were a trade off to give her breathing room at some point in the future when she really needed it. This might that time. But she is good. And we are happy.

I had an ER visit the other day. I won't go into detail now, perhaps in a couple days, but I had to report the physician. And if I don't get the results I want; which, I don't know what that might be but I figure I'll know it when I see it, I will personally report him to the medical board. You know, the folks that grant him his license. I want this on his record. I want any person checking on him as a prospective new physician to know what they are getting into. Ah, the smell of self-induced public humiliation. You can be rude to me. You can be rude to those I am with. You can treat me like an imbicile. I certainly don't recommend it, but you can. You can even deny me treatment for fuck-all knows why. I'll find another doctor. But don't you ever, ever, intentionally mock my integrity nor imply anything that could get me fired. Just because you're a prick. Because now, all of those other things DO matter and the gloves are off.

Thankfully he's not my surgeon. With whom I will begin a close and way too intimate relationship come Monday morning. After I'm home and feeling decent, I'll hop on this box and tell you how it went. Hint: If I'm home typing it can't be too entirely bad, can it?
`

Ironic. Sometimes you can't catch a break: sometimes you can but it's not how you intended.

Before I address the post title, I want to tell you all something that I've done. I thought it was utterly selfless and pure. In the end I came to the conclusion that it wasn't. To make a long story short, I did an assload (yes it's a word - look it up) of charitable giving this year. I did my usual check writing then I kept going. I went to several stores and purchased clothing and sundries for Homesafe which is a shelter for women and children. Then I gave to two+ animal shelters/organizations. Every item I gave was picked by my very own little hands. After that, a co-worker/friend's husband just lost his job. She was upset that she'd have to support them and their three children on her wage. She told them there would be no Christmas gifts this year. Yeah. So off I go to secretly buy gifts for all five of them and their three dogs. I put the giant gift wrapped package in her car but never told her what I'd done only requesting that she open it when the family was all together. I have yet to see if she was ok with it or was offended and wants to kill me. After spending quite a bit of money, do you know what I learned? I like doing this. Spending money I thought I didn't have and personally picking the items out (remember, I hate shopping) gave me some sort of connection. They are me, they are you. This year, with my mother's cancer, something happened in my head. Often, I can't connect either because I just can't or I don't want to. This makes me feel personally connected without actually being there. Someone knows that another person cared enough to buy them clothing, to get nightshirts for their kids, quality food for the animals and fluffy towels to curl up on. They don't need to know who, they just need to know that someone cares. I like knowing that I helped give them that feeling. I guess it's the feeling of being wanted. I learned so much this season.

Oh, and I'm in a nationally published magazine. Not by name, but with another person demonstrating use of some tech equipment. Huh. Kinda cool I guess.

Now, now, I'm sure you're wondering when the other shoe is going to drop. I mean, this is simply not the place to come for a regular dose of feel-good posts, right? Ok. So here goes. I go in for some exploratory surgery in January. Basically, today is day # 18 of my period and it looks as if I'll easily make it to day #19 and from there, who knows? Pain. Nausea. And after 18 days, bright red blood. And nausea. Again. Blech. So I get the old D & C (Dusting & Cleaning...), an internal scope up ye olde hoo-hah and then a scope pushed into my abdomen so they can take a look-see and determine if a band of miniature gypsies have taken up residence in my ovaries. Thankfully I'll be out. Hell, I'll even bring my own tourniquet to do the anesthesia induction; and don't be chintzy with the Versed, damn it! What a way to get a week off work. Odd that someone can bleed for 18 days and live. And no, I'm not pregnant. Any jokes about it and I'll show you the level of PMS involved here. I feel like I've had the shit kicked out of me; talk about being totally whooped! I'm sure you can figure that every now and then I panic because of my mom just having cancer. Even so, I'm pretty sure it's not that severe. Most likely a cranky ovary or something relatively benign. Which I truly believe, but it's always somewhere way in the back of my murky little head.

And there you have it. This is the first day I've even felt up to posting. I wouldn't have been surprised if I came back to crickets and dust bunnies. Thanks you all for stopping by, that really means alot. Little by little, I'm getting to your blogs. I feel so lost because I've missed so much but I'll catch up.

So the moral of this post is that if you do nice things for others, you'll eventually bleed to death. Or something like that.

!!! If you really looked up 'assload', I'm going to find a way to smack you. ;)

Ta-Da!

Yep, a full month and that's the best I can come up with for a title. Ha.

First I'll say that mom is well and had her final dose of radiation yesterday. She has yet to glow, which is in a way slightly disappointing. I think she's finally feeling some relief over the whole situation. Closure, perhaps.

I'm getting injections in joints I'd prefer not to and being referred out for further treatment for my back. I should donate my body to medical science now. It would be much more interesting for them. Everything else is still going laughably wrong; which I just say with simple irony. And I mean that with all sincerity. Like I've said: in the crazy stories you hear about your friend's grandmother's cousin's paper boy's aunt... well, I'm her...

Shrew #21 was the last to be seen but with another bout of nasty weather coming, who knows? I have had my car's vent/blower replaced twice in the month because mice find it a cozy place to live. Accidentally turned it on high one day and caught one in the motor. Killed the motor and the mouse. Oops.

My gram has trigger finger on one hand and managed to sustain 2nd degree burns on the other. Poor dear. The burns are healing well and her follow up for the other is on the 4th.

But why can't I tell you anything? Really tell you anything? I spend more time staring off, lost in some odd low-level thought than feeling anymore. Knowing me I'd say that is a huge red alert of some sort. Perhaps it is due to the fact that I barely sleep. And that I am doing so much for so many others that I've forgotten about myself. I'm not sad really. Nor angry. (Big lie - sometimes 'angry' is several planes away...) I'm just not anything, to be honest with you. The only thing I know is that things have to change. And by that I mean that in the way that it is some sort of rule. 'Ok, three steps sideways. Good, good.' 'Alright, now LiVEwiRe, time for your change.... Great!' It's just the way it is going to be.

I'm still convinced I could live underwater. But short of growing gills I'm sure that's not it. Winter is here and I hate it. Hate the fucker with a passion. Most of the time. Sometimes it's cool.

My focus is all but gone which makes for some long, drawn out conversations. I can't remember names and places or the name of what I was talking about. Or I just go away and think of something else. Perhaps it is just better there. My gut tells me it is too little sleep and too much responsibility. The balance is off.

But I'm happy for my mom, and for her, we are going to my holiday party at work. I was stressed thinking I have nothing appropriate to wear (or anything purchased within the last, oh, 8 years) but then I realized that whatever I put on will be a step up from the hospital scrubs I wear on a daily basis. I was so surprised and pleased that she wanted to go that I didn't worry about clothes. It is too cold to go naked so no one there needs to worry 'bout that.

Tomorrow my goal is to stop in and visit. It may be brief, but I hope everyone is doing well. I do miss all you silly gooses when I'm not here. You each have your own way about you that is so unique and I feel fortunate to have crossed paths with each of you.

Brevity in A

Mom is doing well; her cancer didn't spread but in a few weeks she goes for three radiation treatments. I recovered from the pneumonia but managed to get strep throat. Which isn't really strep at all (culture confirmed) but my throat was swollen to the point of making breathing next to impossible. I still have no idea what the cause was. I took off two days and now my boss is cranky. Whatever. I don't sleep between my cat howling, back pain and the shrews. Of which I have evicted 19 thus far. Shrews, not cats. More teeth are falling apart and I've used up this year's allotment of dental insurance. Not to mention personal pain and inconvenience. Great to know I'm busting up my own choppers. I'm looking forward to Halloween. I like not being me sometimes. Like now.

Anyway, I'll try to chime in next week. Be well my little bloglings; hope all is well.

Again, no title

Mom's surgery went well. She did still have a reaction to the anesthetic but they were prepared and it wasn't nearly as bad as she was initially prepared for. She has only five small laparoscopic incisions from her robotic-assist surgery. On Tuesday we go to have her recheck/follow up and get the pathology results. This should indicate whether or not the cancer spread and if chemo/radiation is needed. I made her this crazy gift basket of fun things to do while she recuperates, made her an awesome (if I do say so myself) floral arrangement, and do try to spend time with her every day and bring her little surprises. She was a little pale today but I don't think it's much to be concerned about. She's getting around slowly but is tolerating the movement better than either of us thought.

Thank you all for your kind words and thoughts.

For me, I'm in one of those busy phases where I have like, nine appoints within the next 10 days; either three or four are on Friday alone. Of course all in different towns, too. Had my routine dental cleaning today and it's a good thing that my teeth are nice and healthy and I'm a die-hard flosser (at least THAT is good) because I fractured two other teeth. Mother Effer!!! All because I'm clenching and grinding too hard. The new trick is that you can see severe chisel patterns which indicates it is happening during the day, not at night when the nightguard protects my teeth. They weren't like this six months ago so I can really only blame the stress of the madness at work and the pressures placed on me there. Fuck. From now on, I sedate myself while I'm there. The dollar signs are just dancing in front of my eyes. Crowns. The equivalent of perhaps $1000. This time.

Oh, my new hobby is rodent relocation. See, the cute furry bastards sneak in my house and I, not wanting to smash their heads to bits, place food in humane traps. They go for the food, wake me up when they rattle to escape and I place them back outside. Usually at three in the morning. Six of them from the end of September. But now, there is a renegade rodent. No manners at all: he mocks me. Literally walks into the trap, without setting it off, eats the food then leaves an, erm, calling card, shall we say. I mean really. This is not a deli. I'm trapping you, damn it! You are NOT to eat my food, shit, then run! GAH! I think they are moles or something of the sort. I used to think them adorable. Now I'm just wondering how many I need to make a coat.

And. Not sure if I told you, but I saw a red fox. I was on my way home and unfortunately all the other ones I've seen were hit on the side of the road. I'm so careful now when I drive through the park. It was absolutely beautiful.

I have no title and I'm not going to sit around thinking of one.

My friend/coworker's sister got married, went to Vegas on her honeymoon, then died there in her sleep three days later. The autopsy showed nothing; she was only 49. Another coworker's mother fell ill and within days was in hospice care due to (previously unknown) advanced liver cancer. She's all of a sudden taking a blend of strong painkillers and is going between being awake and in pain or lapsing in and out of consciousness.

I don't like these things looming in my head. Tomorrow is my mother's cancer surgery: I have to get up at 3:30am which is about 4.5 hours away. All of a sudden I'm getting scared. What if she doesn't wake up? Certainly a valid fear especially given the gloom and doom surrounding me lately in the above scenarios. She is strong and really probably way too stubborn to not come out of anesthesia. I am thinking positively and there is no reason for her not to do well.

Of course there was no reason for Mary's sister to just up and die, either.

I just had to get that out. The last 3+ weeks of being logical seems to have somehow balled itself up and slammed into my chest. Perhaps I'm just realizing that the surgery date is finally here and I have absolutely no control.

On the bright side, I do have sedatives...

Waiting

My world is getting smaller. It is as if I have dictated it and so it shall be. Only I don't specifically recall doing so. Somehow, this shrinking feeling quiets me; but only when it is not frightening me.

I've been seeing things, you know. Dark things. Small skittering things. I catch them at the corner of my eye and they are gone before I ever knew what they were. They come more frequently now. Perhaps they are bits of old life, saying goodbye.

There is this saying that comes to mind. Sort of. I'm so bad with them. I mix up their words and meanings like random names in a hat. When I checked into this one, I was on. Funny how every now and then I remember one and in the end, it's one I wish I hadn't. Life is funny like that.

Here are some of the words - here is the song. Match it to my post title when you click. Some might say that this is a sad kind of song, but I don't really. Not happy; resolve maybe. Dallas Green has clever words for my small world.

A coma might feel better than this -
attempting to discover, where to begin.
You are weighed down.
You are full of something
sickness and desertion.
You are weighed down.
You're underneath it all.
So say goodbye to love
and hold your head up high.
There's no need to rush.
We're all just waiting... waiting to die.

(City and Colour ~ Waiting
2007/Bring Me Your Love)

How very 'me' of me...

I'm the one taking care of my mom pre/post surgery. Me. Right? Well, somehow I have managed to play hostess to... pneumonia. I mean, WTF?!?! It just had to way 38 years and some odd months to say, 'ok, now, now is the time'! So far it's been four full days of antibiotics and yet my lungs make Meerkat sounds when I lean back or go fully horizontal. And I'm referring to the erratic clicking sounds, not the sweet little trills. If I hold my breath my lungs still make noise; crackly, raking sounds. Ew. The doc says it's basically just congestion. Right. That's one way to see it. I can't shake the fact that my lungs are a snot sack not to mention a walking petri dish. I'm doing everything I can so that I don't compromise her health during her 'event'.

Her oncology appointment was straightforward but I'm sure she left there feeling more confident in what was about to happen. Oh, and I'll have to find you information, but she's being operated on by R2D2. Cool, eh? Right now the surgery is the big thing. They can't stage it until they've removed the offending pieces parts. To me, that's when it gets scary. And the only thing you can do is wait.

Other than the pneumonia, I've been very short-tempered and lashing out and doing stupid things. Work is not on my good side now but it will pass so it isn't worth going into detail over, ya know? I think my anger is related to the stress with mom. I won't lie - it is scary uncharted territory. Plus, she has no health insurance/savings left at all due to being laid off for so long so I may be paying thousands of dollars in fees.

Then I have my own annual gyn/mammogram appt due next month. Yeah, it's a bit scarier now.

Anyway, the vile pneumonia should give me a day to catch up no matter how badly I want to stay in bed. Here's something interesting. Only two episodes so far but I am interested.

I awoke only to find my lungs empty...

Earlier today I hand wrote the bones of a post while my mom had gone to the doc's. I was scribbling away in the waiting room about how I felt returning from Canada. I loved it but found there can be so much internal conflict over things you never see coming. In my mind there were symbolistic red lines and no change of heart, no matter how badly I wanted there to be. I was coming to the conclusion that I am just me and that's all I can be.

Before I finalized my commentary and supposition the doc called me into his office.

That was when we found out that my mother has cancer.
~

Promises Kept

Do the different 'yous' of days gone by ever haunt you? What about the now 'you'?

There are a multitude of things that can directly, or indirectly, affect the person that looks back at you in the mirror. The person that has the last word when you close your eyes at night. The person that fills your head with thoughts, ideas, words, when you first wake.

I used to think, even when things were out of control, that I still had some sort of control over my life. I suppose that was the foolish idealist in me.

Now I'm coming to learn that there are times when you come to a swift realization, kind of like a film being played in fast forward showing your past as well as where you are headed, when you see that your actions often did not have the consequences you desired. That perhaps you have less of a hand in it than you think. Or do you?

For as long as I can recall, I've been leary of promises. I have every right to be. Seven years ago I made a promise to myself. At the time, it was to protect myself; save myself in a way. Little did I know that it might be my own undoing. Isn't it funny... in an attempt to protect and elevate myself I have effectively walled myself off. The protection stalled out and became a holding cell.

It is kind of like falling down into a well and looking up, wondering if and when it will end. And how. And which is worse.

So much for keeping promises.

Breaking the surface to show I'm still alive. Well, most of me anyway.

Tap, tap... is this thing on? {squeeeeeal}

So yeah, I'm not dead. I did end up having a second, much more involved oral surgery, though. So after all the pain over the past two years that these two teeth (formally known as #19 and #20, I renamed them the Evil Twins) have caused they are hopefully nestled snugly in a medical waste barge on their way to being incinerated. All of my insurance was used trying to save them and now I get to pay for this surgery out of pocket. The irony grips me folks.

Anyway. I now have a dead body in my mouth permanently. I needed bone grafts and unless it is major, they don't put a patient through another procedure simply to harvest bone. They get bone-in-a-can. Seriously. Most places in my body wouldn't really freak me out much but my mouth, ew. I'm certain I've ingested some so now that makes me a cannibal as well. Well aren't I just America's sweetheart?

My new cell ringtone is Living Dead Girl. Dig?

Just getting back into the swing of things and I hope to snoop around blogland this weekend to start catching up. Hope everyone is grand. Now, off to eat something. Hmm, pudding, baby food or yogurt? Decisions, decisions.