Nurses

Nurses

I take great issue with the medical field on a whole, but as someone with doctors in her family, I can only hope they also know that nurses are often smarter than they are, they’re the ones that spend the most time at the hospital, the ones who do the most “caring”. I’ve known some great  nurses in my life and have had to tell many off for various reasons. However, this article caught my eye this morning and after the last few weeks of enduring so much crap, this story sort of broke me into tears. It would be very sad for anyone to read this and not be able to shed a single tear. I know I did. It definitely put a lot into perspective for me as well. So, know that it’s sad, but I still encourage you to read it.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mike-spohr/nicu-nurses-on-the-wings-of-a-nightingale_b_3353060.html?utm_hp_ref=parents&ir=Parents?utm_hp_ref=parents&ir=Parents&icid=maing-grid7%7Cmain5%7Cdl4%7Csec1_lnk2%26pLid%3D324152

Belated Honesty

Is it really ok to just allow myself to be? I’ve been putting off errands for almost a full week because I’m afraid of losing it in public. Having no patience for people is a real thing. I try not to cast my vile mood on others whenever possible, because I really don’t think it’s fair to others. I’d rather snap at people I know, no need to take it out on strangers. <evil smirk> I’ve been paying bills at the very last minute, and just trying to survive.

Most people would say “You’re coping, it’s a process.”, don’t beat yourself up, but what they don’t seem to understand is that I’m doing this all by myself. I came to the realization that I am 100% alone a few days ago and someone acknowledged to me that I am right. But their “lets solve it” answer was for me to “travel while I can”, as if I am suddenly embarking on a trip to Barcelona with my frequent flyer miles. Not happening. In fact, just the thought of flying domestically right now isn’t emotionally in my wheel house.

I’m a great traveler, but I hate the nonsense. I pack my carry-on bag perfectly, happy to get my computer, make-up bag (which gets larger as I get older. Don’t judge me. LOL.), Kindle, and all other items you do NOT EVER want to check, and still be able to zip the damn thing, only for it to be completely dismantled the second I go through security. The TSA damaged my netbook during their adorable little “check out the single woman traveling” expedition. It will cost me more to replace it than it’s worth, yet they’re “not responsible”?! Yeah, I have a word for that too. Also, I got treated like a terrorist at Dallas-Ft. Worth International. If you’ve scanned my bags four times and cannot figure out that a coin purse has coins in it, you need to be doing something else for a living.

Moving on….

Having a support system is really difficult. I have had this issue for years as I cared for my parents, wishing I had more siblings, wishing I could have a break, and then suddenly they were both gone way too young. Almost a full five years later, when you have no one to call after losing someone you love, whomever it is you love, that feels like one of the worst things in the world.

Was this life you loved not loved by others? Probably not as much as you loved that life. Was this love unimportant because you were the one who gave all of your love? No. But it still hurts, and I’m not ok. I keep saying I’m ok, I keep saying I’m fine, and only the truly smart people I know realize that’s not true.

Very few people take the time to read between the lines or to really listen to my voice. If it’s easier for them to say “She’s fine. She’s strong, she’ll be ok.”, then that’s what they’re going to go with because “She’s not really ok.” takes too long for them and their daily lives. Don’t interrupt the shiny, happy people. <rolls eyes>

I can’t dump every little thing I feel on people who cannot physically be here. The one person who is here is so emotionally stumped that it’s like talking to nobody (Seriously, the walls have better answers!). And the nights are the worst.

I start off saying I’ll go to bed early, but then the anxiety, pain, and stress become so heightened that I can’t even focus on rest. I distract myself with a little TV (For the record, The Following is a seriously terrifying, twisted show that I haven’t decided if I should keep watching or delete from the DVR List entirely. Whose brilliant idea was it to air that on a Monday night?! People complain about Dexter, which they have the option of subscribing to or not, but this show is on network TV, has not an ounce of humor to it, it’s just one shocking second after another, and we’re just two episodes in with me saying “I KNEW IT!!”, “This is twisted.” “Oh.My.God.!! Kevin Williamson in a genius.”, “Does this remind anyone of anything?!” Please remind me to stop watching it when I can’t sleep!!). Then I toss, I turn, I get up constantly, I take honey to stave off my allergies and keep me from coughing all night long, and then I curse my doctor for taking me off medication that my body clearly needs in order to be able to function at night.

Chronic pain is no joke, stress makes it worse, and the end result is me barely being able to turn my head most of the time. Every once in a while I turn in the wrong direction and paralysis from the neck up becomes five to ten minutes of hell, praying that it dissipates. Praying that I’ll be able to get out of the shower without it moving down my spine.

The official diagnosis is that the nerves in my spine (at the top) are pressing down where they enter and leave my spine, causing excruciating pain. Eleven days ago muscle relaxers were the only thing helping me sleep without practically throwing myself across the room. Monday night it got so bad that I found myself researching herbal muscle relaxers. I found some that are supposed to work and work well, they’ll be here Thursday. How sad is it that I long for the days when I can move properly and sleep without waking up with a tension headache, migraine, and/or jaw pain from grinding my teeth due to stress? I feel like a nightmare because I often feel as though I’m trapped in some horrible movie that no one has been able to finish writing.

So script writer (God, Goddess), I am not amused. I have always been willing to put in the work and not take the easy route (I’ve been doing this way too long to think it’s ever going to be handed to me.), but once in a while you’ve got to work with me. I am not asking to be a billionaire, I am not asking to be Oprah, but I am asking to be able to live my life with a lot less pain and drama, a considerably larger amount of love, support, friendship, and people I can trust that aren’t going to turn on me for selfish, sick reasons, and something that is mine, and only mine. Something we all deserve that is untouchable because it’s part of the reason we are all here. We all deserve happiness that no one can touch. Period.

This might be a day late, but at least it’s honest.

Unpretty

Unpretty

The inside of my head is so ugly today. I know most of it is physical pain, some of it is emotional, and the rest of it is stress. I’ve made some progress today dealing with certain aspects, so it’s not a total loss. Here’s hoping that an early evening with a little TV and maybe some pizza (even though I’ve been trying to avoid cheese) will help tame the “beast within”. I’m sure I’m due for a meltdown at some point, but right now I just need to learn to give myself a break.

~If you have a weak stomach, don’t watch the end of this video.~

Precisely How I…

Precisely How I Feel Today…..

“Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love.”
―Fyodor Dostoevsky

I woke up this morning thinking I could handle a battle which lays before me, only to remind myself that I am in mourning and it’s ok to admit that. It’s only been a week and I need to give myself time, because I’m too raw to be allowed to jump into the Dead Sea. So tomorrow I handle the battle, but I will give myself the weekend to contemplate and begin working on the healing process. I also promise to call in reinforcements as needed, because right now I don’t think I can solve a crossword puzzle, leave alone my own life.

Sometimes Surviving Is Pain

“If writers stopped writing about what happened to them, then there would be a lot of empty pages.” -Elaine Liner

Hello my lovely readers:

I would be lying if I said these past few days without my little girl have been easy. They haven’t. In some ways the worst part is over, moving her body (a horrible thing. I reminded myself that she was still her and that I would do anything for her, otherwise I probably would have had a nervous breakdown.) and bringing her to the vet temporarily while I order a coffin and decide exactly where in the backyard she will go. It might seem morbid, but at least this way, I know who is visiting her grave and exactly where it is at all times. Her sister is buried at a cemetery and because I lost my Mom right after burying her, I haven’t been back out there. It’s not far from where I live now, it just opens up a lot of wounds. Burying is for the living, truly. I damn near had a coronary when I was asked twice by my vet’s office if I wanted her cremated. That’s like asking me if I’d like to personally experience the Holocaust. Yes, that’s the image that pops into my head every single time someone says the word “cremation”. I cannot burn anyone I have ever loved, and that includes my cat. (Ok, I could probably burn someone I didn’t particularly care for, but that’s a discussion for another day. I don’t care about being politically correct, I’m just me.)

Friday was solemn for me. Initially I went into a bit of cleaning frenzy. I tossed the place-mat where her food and water were in the kitchen. Not out of cruelty or anger, but because I was planning on tossing it anyway, losing her just gave me a reason to do it sooner rather than later. I cleared her food and water from the mat upstairs, but that particular mat is just a few months old, all it needs is to be wiped down and put away for the future. I tossed a small scratching post. It was nothing fancy and I know new kittens won’t touch it because they’ll smell her pheremones and start looking for her. That’s only natural. I’m not stupid enough to think that tossing those few things I was unattached to will mean anything, but it was something I had to do.

My next step was walking into the loft space which separates my room from the other half of the top of my home. I’ve had boxes sitting there since I moved in. I went through some things and threw stuff out. I recycled an old storage container and turned it into a container for the weekly recycling that I haven’t done in years. That’s a positive change, right? I then tossed all the empty beauty products I had into it for recycling. Soon after an empty soda bottle and iced tea bottle would join. Progress. Sometimes it comes in baby steps. I am planning on donating some clothes and home items that I do not want/need or cannot use. I take great care of my clothes, so whoever gets this stuff is basically getting brand new clothing. Helping someone in need is never a crime.

The people closest to me have expressed some concerns. Apparently my methods of coping are bizarre to those who don’t understand that we all cope in our own ways, at our own rate, but that we have to do it on our own in many respects. I’ve been asked to leave my home for a while, as if that will erase her memory somehow. I have been asked to “remember to eat”, as if I have ever gone on some kind of starvation diet in the past when I’ve lost a loved one. I’ve buried over 60 people in my life and this will be my third cat, I’m not “new” to death or loss. I have been reminded that “a few drinks won’t hurt”, and that I should be using something to “numb the pain”. That only managed to piss me off. One, I’m not a big drinker. The only time I actually buy alcohol is when I know someone who drinks will be visiting and staying with me, or if I need something for a recipe. I don’t turn to drugs and alcohol as a means of coping with anything in my life. Suppressing what I think and feel is to lie to myself, and I won’t do that.

Everyone that has expressed concern means well. No one is saying anything to hurt me, they just have a point of view that I don’t particularly agree with. That’s ok, and I’m not taking anything personally. Just as they should not take it personally as I choose to do things my own way.

I prefer not to have my feelings psycho-analyzed right now. I’m a very extreme person. I don’t deal in a lot of mundane thoughts or feelings. I understand that this is going to be a long, painful process. I understand that every time I put my necklace on, which bears her name (The design is called Who Do You Love? and has an owl hand-stamped on it. Her name is also on it and the smaller one that has a crescent moon has her sister’s name on it. I’ve had it for a few years and I love it. Now it’s my daily necklace in place of the family crest design with my initial on it.), it’s going to sting a bit. I washed a load of her blankets yesterday and it hurt to find one lone strand of cat hair on my shoulder a few hours later. That’s where it’s supposed to be though. I have her brushes, one of which she stole from my purse a few years ago. My little mini-me was such a girl’s girl. She loved to be brushed, she loved being told how beautiful she was, loved being told how beautiful & silky her coat was, and my brother always said she smelled exactly like me. No matter what I did, she somehow became the second wearer of my perfume each day. I’ve been wearing that perfume for a little over 10 years. I love it, but now I love it for the both of us. I have her blanket, which I had specially made for her five years ago. I refuse to part with it, I may have to be buried with it.

A few people wanted to know when I was going to adopt again. I really gave that a lot of thought. I’ve perused Petfinder’s web-site quite a bit, and I did stop at a local PetSmart to see if they had any kittens (they had older cats. I’m looking for true kittens, 8-10 weeks old.). In the end, I made the decision to give myself sufficient time to kitten-proof the house. Kittens are unlike older cats that are already calmer and set in their ways. They’re curious by nature, they want to smell and jump on EVERYTHING, and even with enzymatic cleaner used on my carpet, they are going to smell that another cat lived here. By the time they are six months old they will have free run of the house and I am sure they will do exactly what she did when we moved in, which is mark every single wall and piece of furniture as her property. I, myself, was marked as cat property a good 50 times a day, lest a stray cat attempt to thieve me away on my way to the car, mailbox, or the grocery store. I’m still convinced she had some kind of kitty Lojack attached to me so that she knew where I was at all times. Eventually, they will do the same. I wonder if the kitty Lojack gets re-registered in their names or if a new “device” is installed?! LOL.

I have decided to honor her by adopting another Tortoiseshell. I’m truly in love with this unique, but unofficial breed. Many cats can have Tortie coloring, but my little girl’s coloring and very unique tri-colored eyes are what I’m looking for in a 2nd Tortie. The eyes are rare, she had grey eyes for the first six months or so of her life, and then they became gold with blue and green bordering outside the gold. You couldn’t always see it because, like me, her eyes were almost always fully dilated. Not all Tortie’s will have her eye color, but I know I will find one who was every bit as special as she was. Special and different, because no one and nothing will ever replace her. I hope to add the new addition(s) by the end of the year.

My other way of honoring her is with two small tattoos. They will go underneath mine, that way our lives, spirits, and futures will remain intertwined. I am on the hunt for the perfect, ultra feminine looking font. If anyone has any recommendations, please send me a message and/or a photo, or leave me a comment so that I can get in touch with you.

So yes, I am coping. I have good days and bad days. I will eventually be ok. I don’t think the pain will ever disappear entirely, I think it lives within you and becomes a part of who you are and how you grow. People talk about broken hearts, but it is the losses we experience in life that are the deepest cuts. We either slowly bleed to death or we somehow suture ourselves together and keep moving. It’s not easy, looking at it too closely is extremely painful, but eventually we all hit that fight or flight moment in life where we decide which direction we’re going in. I’m a fighter. I am the pitbull of my family, the one who will be the epitome of loyal, but will rip you to shreds if she has to. Unfortunately, running never solves anything, so fight I shall.

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Immortality Th…

Immortality Through Love

“Death is, but crossing the world, as friends do the seas; They live in one another still. In this divine glass, they see face to face; and their converse is free, as well as pure. This is the comfort of friends, that though they may be said to die, yet their friendship and society are, in the best sense, ever present, because immortal.” -William Penn