Monthly Archives: June 2012
…at 2:30 a.m. on June 19th, 2012 Daddy went home….finally, after over a week of suffering and fighting.
So, now he gets to play basketball and baseball and visit with is mom, dad, brothers and sister who went before him.
He gets to party with his friends that went before him, and most of all he gets to be the fun-loving man I knew before Alzheimer’s tore him apart the last two years.
Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty he’s free at last.
And me…I am taking a break.
A long break.
I’ll be back in mid-July.
But, don’t you forget about me ya hear? And tell all your friends to come visit my blog, poke around and comment on the things they like.
God Bless You, my friends.
For those of you wondering about my lack of presence lately…..
Daddy is in the ICU, acute respiratory failure due to aspiration pneumonia….
Between work and hospital, no time for anything else.
And, my funny bone’s broken.
I’ll be back…someday.
In the meantime, I’ll be posting some repeats over the next couple of weeks.
I apologize for the redundant redundancy, but these days I’m lucky to remember to put on pants before leaving the house in the morning.
Wait for it…it’ll come to you, unless you get it right away which I did NOT..but when I did it made me giggle uncontrollably.
By the time you read this I will probably be un-funkified, but right now, today, I’m totally funked.
I have fibromyalgia, or as I like to *affectionately* call it:
Fibro is this weird – disease? syndrome? alien invasion? – that affects the neuro pathways of the sympathetic nervous system.
Which is a fancy way of saying my mother-lovin’ nervous system is waaaaaaay out of whack, and is reacting accordingly by firing on all eight cylinders at once.
All. The. Time.
And, me being me, I have the worst case of it my doctor has ever seen.
Of course I do.
There are medications for it, but I’m unable to tolerate any of them. So, I suffer..a LOT…and take regular pain meds when I can’t stand it.
Today, and for the last few days, I’ve been unable to stand it.
Even my friggin’ hair hurts.
My wrists, ankles, shoulders and elbows ache. My ankles lock up on me when I walk.
My rib joints are inflamed and painful, and my sternum feels like someone performed CPR on me for several hours…non-stop.
Breathing is a constant internal argument:
ME #1 – You HAVE to breathe.
ME#2 – I know that but it hurts every time I do.
ME#1 – Yes, well tough shit. Try NOT breathing and see how that works for you.
ME#2 – Screw you.
I’m nauseous (from the pain) and listless…not just tired, mind you, but literally lethargic.
Even as I type this I’m fighting a very strong urge to lie down and go to sleep.
Right here. Right now.
And it’s only 8:00 in the morning…I’ve been up about an hour.
What was my point?
Oh yes, I have no point.
I often have no point. It’s part of my *charm*.
I’m just whining.
I’ll stop now.
I was five and Karl was six.
I knew he liked me because he would find daddy long-leg spiders, and dangling them in front of my face by one of their long legs, he’d chase me around the playground.
I thought he was the cat’s pajamas in Kindergarten.
He lived, with his parents, in the apartment next to ours. An apartment that until just before the end of the school year had housed my parents and me. Now, with summer approaching, it was just my mom and me.
Amidst the chaos that divorce brings Karl was a constant in my life.
All blue-eyed and blonde, he was the cutest boy I knew. Granted, at five I’d not known many and was beginning to show the lack of trust in the male of species that would dog me for many years.
We played on the apartment’s vast common areas, and swam in the pool all summer.
One night Karl kissed me on the cheek as we sat on the front stoop staring at the fireflies we’d managed to capture and put into Mason jars.
I was over the moon.
By August, I was certain Karl was the “one”. I knew we’d grow up, marry, and have a bunch of kids.
And, we’d never divorce.
It was not to be, though.
Just before school started, I heard Karl’s mom tell my mom that he and his family were going to move. When I asked her where they were going, she looked at me and said, “Ohio, honey.”
At five I had little grasp of geography, but I knew that I lived in Missouri so if they went to Ohio we’d be separated by a lot of miles. My globe confirmed my suspicions.
On moving day Karl and I stood silently, side by side, as we watched young men in uniforms load up an enormous truck with furniture and boxes, and his parents bringing suitcases and hanging clothes to load into the family’s station wagon.
When the last of their things was loaded into the car Karl got into the back seat. He hadn’t said a word to me, but as the car started up the hill he turned around and sadly waved goodbye.
That evening I sat on the stoop; the remnants of the day fading in the distance. It was so quiet, and I missed my friend.
Daydreaming, I imagined Karl as the white knight in my favorite fairy tale. I thought one day he’d come riding over the hill, and carry me off on his trusty steed.
Finally, it was completely dark and my mother called me inside. I stood up and climbed the stairs, looking back once to see if my fairy tale had come true.
I kept up my vigil for a few more nights, but eventually learned that sometimes endings are just that…endings, and I never saw Karl again.