A little update on the situation.
I went back down to Florida this past weekend to try to be of use. I managed to see my brother Friday night, Saturday, Sunday, and a little bit on Monday. His condition has improved although he is still acutely ill and still on dialysis.
He has made some progress by being able to urinate a little bit and by continuing to take walks with the assistance of a walker and a companion. His urine output is low but it is way better than nothing at all. He has regained some sensation in his feet but it comes in pins and needles now and the motor control of his feet isn't great.
His kidney function tests, BUN and creatinine, are still greatly elevated but dialyis can take care of that while his kidneys repair themselves. The numbers are a bit, well I wouldn't say alarming at this point, but they still kind of take my breath away. The rest of his electrolytes are fairly stable because of the dialysis and some medications by mouth that he is taking.
He requires infusions of IV iron supplementation because his red blood cell counts are low. The kidneys are partially responsible for red blood cell formation. Added to this is the act of dialysis itself on filtering the blood and the subsequent mangling of a portion of the red blood cells as they travel through a filter outside of your body. Inevitably some of those RBCs are going to get smooshed and be unable to do their job, which is mostly carrying oxygen to the cells.
His blood pressure has been high but this is not terrible given the fact that his heart is only twenty-seven years old and a stress test showed that it is, in fact, a strong heart that can handle a bit of an extra load. He has not had any notable cardiac events at all in the last few days.
He had a porta-cath inserted on Monday for his dialysis treatments. Prior to that he had an access device placed in his jugular vein which is good temporarily but more prone to infection that the kind he has now. The portacath was placed during a quick surgery that he tolerated well. He went straight to dialysis after that to flush out the anesthesia, contrast dye used during the procedure, as well as the excess waste of the past day or so that the kidneys still couldn't deal with. A while later he requested food, which he ate some of and tolerated well.
But let's talk about the more human aspect now.
I washed and massaged my brother's feet. He was starting to regain sensation which feels like pins and needles. I was focused on making him aware of where sensation began and where it stopped. I used everything I knew from previous training in massage.
Interestingly enough, the area of most muscular weakness corresponds with part of the kidney meridian that runs through his lower legs and feet. I refreshed myself on that topic and gave him a great massage on his feet, calves, and shins. He was able to identify what he could feel, and couldn't feel and I think it made him more aware of the progress he has made in the past two weeks. Nerve tracks can grow by 1 millimeter per day so we have a way to go but we're getting there.
Coincidentall later on tha dayhe also was able to release 200 milliliters of urine, fairly normal in color. He called me around 10:30 that night to tell me so. What a change from about 30 ml of urine he produced, black as coffee two week ago before the well ran dry. Healthy kidneys put out about 30 ml of urine per hour. So something good is happening.
I didn't see him too much on Sunday because I was helping my mother pack up some stuff for their move. Right before they went on their cruise and events unfolded, my parents had sold their house in the Orlando area and signed a contract on a house near the Gulf. Ironically, my brother is in a hospital about 20 minutes away from the new house.
It's a better area for them. I had mixed feelings at first because it's near where I lived, where Rob died. In the face of this new phase my family is going through, I could care less. What seemed important three weeks ago is suddenly not important anymore.
Jordan and I spent some good, quality time with my brother in the early part of Monday. My brother's surgery to insert the portacath was 1 PM. My parents had to take care of matters related to the move, like setting up accounts with utilities. My brother was picked up around noon and we followed him down to the holding area for the operating room. My parents said their goodbyes and took Penny with them to run errands.
We had about an hour to talk about things before surgery and spirits were high. I was feeling a certain de ja vous being in that environment, a cross between nursing school and the moments before Rob's catheterizations and surgeries. I was not at all uncomfortable, it almost felt natural and the conversation reflected that.
Still, the unknown always hangs above. Will he tolerate the anesthesia? Will he tolerate the post-operative phase?
He wound up tolerating everything. He wound up dreaming about running during his surgery. The little boy that I loved all while I was growing up, the one that was always running, bouncing balls, making noise, he was dreaming about running again. That boy who had a moody older sister, dressed in dark colors and constantly ruminating over the unfairness of it all; that boy was dreaming about his wide open future.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
When the caller ID shows Unavailable on the house phone, I don't think too much of it. But when Unavailable calls my cell phone thirty seconds later I would be a fool not to answer. Unavailable turned out to be a nurse named Heather calling me from a hospital in Florida and asking me if I knew a Jonathan who's last name happens to be my maiden name.
For the third time in the past 2 years, I felt my blood turn to ice again.
They told me that my brother was there in the ER and that he was alive but that they couldn't tell me more. They were trying to reach my parents who at the time were cruising the Caribbean. For some reason I couldn't recall what cruise line they were on but I took down phone numbers and names she gave me and promised to call back as soon as I could get through to them.
I'll keep the details spare but I assure you that it was very difficult successfully connecting with them on the ship at sea and coordinating things that needed to be done to get to Florida. In between making these arrangements I was on and off of the phone with the nurse in the ER trying to figure out what happened.
The HIPAA laws are a great thing in most respects but sometimes they frustrate family members and health care professionals alike. If you're lucky and perhaps say the right things, you can derive a little bit of information which might not relieve you but will at least give you an idea of what you are working with. And what you should be praying for.
I could ascertain that my brother was alive, that this event was not the result of a motor vehicle accident, but that he was extremely sick. Crying and pleading with the nurse, plus promising to never sue, I was able to get her to obtain verbal consent from my brother to give me certain details of his situation. She was able to tell me, through very specific questions I asked, that he had no apparent head trauma, that his level of consciousness was low but that he was able to speak a little, and did not appear to be in pain.
I asked about his toxicology to which she replied, "I do not have permission to discuss that."
So, we know where this is going. We know that my worst fears regarding him were true. And we know that with all of the diagnostic data that I obtained, that he was truly on the cusp of life and death at the moment.
The human body is a beautiful organism. Under favorable circumstances it functions better than a well oiled machine. The flux of sodium and potassium through cells, the lightening speed bolts of neurotransmitters across synapses, the dance of chemistry and electricity that makes our hearts beat in perfect rhythm, and every other minute function of our body that sways through us in good healthy was deeply compromised in my brother's body.
My brother's potassium had climbed to an 8 (normal is 3.5 to 5) and that his ECG showed peaked T waves due to hyperkalemia (increased blood potassium level). They were doing what they could to decrease the potassium but this is very dangerous territory. I knew that my brother was very close to a lethal cardiac event and just wanted to talk to him, to possibly infuse him with calm and prayers and love in case he wouldn't make it.
When I spoke to him on the nurse's phone I just telling him that I felt nothing but love for him and to calm down and to be receptive to whatever the people in the ER needed to do with him. I put blind faith into the notion that they were well-qualified to deal with him properly and that life would deal us a better hand in the next few minutes. Groggily he told me he loved me and the conversation was over.
A subsequent phone call revealed that my brother was in rhabdomyolysis. My brother's kidneys were not functioning. Kidneys constantly filter our blood, assessing the basic chemistry of our bodies and by way or osmosis and active transport ensure that we have the proper amount of fluids and chemicals circulating through our bodies at any given time. From nursing school until now I have considered kidneys to be the complementary set of chemists our body houses to keep us alive and well.
By that time my inlaws had picked up Penny to spare her my explosion of mental anguish and to allow me to coordinate contacting my parents, organizing Sadie and her care of the dogs, and obtaining plane tickets down to Florida for myself and my boyfriend Jordan. During this time managed to establish contact with my parents and discussed my brother's condition with the ER.
Jordan was a rock and his parents were beyond helpful with obtaining tickets for us. I felt helpless and yet I felt completely supported by the goodness of others around me. Again. I can only sum up my feelings regarding the goodness of people by quoting Carl Rogers who said, "when I look at the world I am pessimistic, but when I look at people I am optimistic."
Later that night, when arrangements had been made and there were no more phone calls to make I sat and worried and prayed and somewhat distracted myself by watching the Yankees earn their way to World Series. The magical, schizoid part of my brain again related the victory of a sporting event with a fortunate personal outcome.
The next afternoon I was back in Florida, at his bedside in the ICU, and told him simply "I came here to tell you the Yankees won last night."
***
Regardless, he is alive.
*****
I have found myself being strong through this situation. I think the road I have traveled since Rob died has made me a stronger person. I honestly think that is the case. I had a therapy session on Thursday (what timing!) that reaffirmed my suspicion that I was handling everything appropriately. My mind was definitely playing tricks with me afterwards, especially at night with my funny little of habit of not sleeping during times of stress and all the weird little acrobatics and cartwheels my mind can perform under these circumstances
I do not know what the future holds but I know that he is alive and we can work with that.
Love,
Liz
For the third time in the past 2 years, I felt my blood turn to ice again.
They told me that my brother was there in the ER and that he was alive but that they couldn't tell me more. They were trying to reach my parents who at the time were cruising the Caribbean. For some reason I couldn't recall what cruise line they were on but I took down phone numbers and names she gave me and promised to call back as soon as I could get through to them.
I'll keep the details spare but I assure you that it was very difficult successfully connecting with them on the ship at sea and coordinating things that needed to be done to get to Florida. In between making these arrangements I was on and off of the phone with the nurse in the ER trying to figure out what happened.
The HIPAA laws are a great thing in most respects but sometimes they frustrate family members and health care professionals alike. If you're lucky and perhaps say the right things, you can derive a little bit of information which might not relieve you but will at least give you an idea of what you are working with. And what you should be praying for.
I could ascertain that my brother was alive, that this event was not the result of a motor vehicle accident, but that he was extremely sick. Crying and pleading with the nurse, plus promising to never sue, I was able to get her to obtain verbal consent from my brother to give me certain details of his situation. She was able to tell me, through very specific questions I asked, that he had no apparent head trauma, that his level of consciousness was low but that he was able to speak a little, and did not appear to be in pain.
I asked about his toxicology to which she replied, "I do not have permission to discuss that."
So, we know where this is going. We know that my worst fears regarding him were true. And we know that with all of the diagnostic data that I obtained, that he was truly on the cusp of life and death at the moment.
The human body is a beautiful organism. Under favorable circumstances it functions better than a well oiled machine. The flux of sodium and potassium through cells, the lightening speed bolts of neurotransmitters across synapses, the dance of chemistry and electricity that makes our hearts beat in perfect rhythm, and every other minute function of our body that sways through us in good healthy was deeply compromised in my brother's body.
My brother's potassium had climbed to an 8 (normal is 3.5 to 5) and that his ECG showed peaked T waves due to hyperkalemia (increased blood potassium level). They were doing what they could to decrease the potassium but this is very dangerous territory. I knew that my brother was very close to a lethal cardiac event and just wanted to talk to him, to possibly infuse him with calm and prayers and love in case he wouldn't make it.
When I spoke to him on the nurse's phone I just telling him that I felt nothing but love for him and to calm down and to be receptive to whatever the people in the ER needed to do with him. I put blind faith into the notion that they were well-qualified to deal with him properly and that life would deal us a better hand in the next few minutes. Groggily he told me he loved me and the conversation was over.
A subsequent phone call revealed that my brother was in rhabdomyolysis. My brother's kidneys were not functioning. Kidneys constantly filter our blood, assessing the basic chemistry of our bodies and by way or osmosis and active transport ensure that we have the proper amount of fluids and chemicals circulating through our bodies at any given time. From nursing school until now I have considered kidneys to be the complementary set of chemists our body houses to keep us alive and well.
By that time my inlaws had picked up Penny to spare her my explosion of mental anguish and to allow me to coordinate contacting my parents, organizing Sadie and her care of the dogs, and obtaining plane tickets down to Florida for myself and my boyfriend Jordan. During this time managed to establish contact with my parents and discussed my brother's condition with the ER.
Jordan was a rock and his parents were beyond helpful with obtaining tickets for us. I felt helpless and yet I felt completely supported by the goodness of others around me. Again. I can only sum up my feelings regarding the goodness of people by quoting Carl Rogers who said, "when I look at the world I am pessimistic, but when I look at people I am optimistic."
Later that night, when arrangements had been made and there were no more phone calls to make I sat and worried and prayed and somewhat distracted myself by watching the Yankees earn their way to World Series. The magical, schizoid part of my brain again related the victory of a sporting event with a fortunate personal outcome.
The next afternoon I was back in Florida, at his bedside in the ICU, and told him simply "I came here to tell you the Yankees won last night."
***
My brother wound up admitting to me that he had done some cocaine, possibly laced. Cocaine alone can land you in this state because of it's very effects on the cardiac system. It can tax your blood vessels all the way down to a microscopic level, and the kidneys have tons of activity going on at the cellular level. Use of cocaine is heavily associated with rhabdomyolysis.
I cannot even address this aspect right now. It was the direct result of hard drug use. There will be more words on this in the future, trust me.
***
Tonight I sit at my computer in New Jersey. The days have passed by with much improvement, propelling my brother away from a lethal condition and into a future that seems filled with hope if he can keep himself away from what landed him in the hospital in the first place. He's had 4 or 5 dialysis treatments and while his body chemistry needs vigilant assessment and treatment, he is a live and will mostly likely remain so.
My brother's kidneys may or may not function independently in the future. Tonight they do not, but the toxins have been cleared of his system, at least temporarily, and he is lucid. This may be the break they need from the onslaught of substances they ordinarily take in, assess, and discard into urine. Or they might need a longer period of rest. Or they might not ever wake up.Regardless, he is alive.
*****
I have found myself being strong through this situation. I think the road I have traveled since Rob died has made me a stronger person. I honestly think that is the case. I had a therapy session on Thursday (what timing!) that reaffirmed my suspicion that I was handling everything appropriately. My mind was definitely playing tricks with me afterwards, especially at night with my funny little of habit of not sleeping during times of stress and all the weird little acrobatics and cartwheels my mind can perform under these circumstances
I do not know what the future holds but I know that he is alive and we can work with that.
Love,
Liz
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Session Four
I was a bit less anxious this time leading up to the session. It was a big week in many ways but the one thing that came up last time, and that I was determined to at least experiment with if not carry through at every turn, was to practice assertiveness. I know, how typical, right? Doesn't it always seem like everyone is therapy says stuff like this?
Well, maybe it is a pervasive issue in the human psyche. Or at least mine. But we talked a lot last week about how confrontation and assertiveness can seem like a really scary thing to practice. It can cause discomfort and humans do not like discomfort. Well, most don't. I am part of the most don't.
However, I am trying to build awareness of when the need to assert myself is a must and practicing this very delicate art. I'm trying to do it in a different way. The old way that I am trying so hard to break away from is like this: avoid it until it is entirely uncomfortable and messes my mind up completely, then finally say something in a way that leaves me feeling like apologizing afterwards because I came off like a bitch with pent-up rage.
So that old way will not do. I would rather go to bed at night knowing that I made my needs or my kids needs known, in a fair and kind way. The reaction of the other party doesn't matter as much as feeling comfortable with the way I delivered the message.
I stumbled through this task a little bit this week. I can count one time where I didn't do this correctly, one time where I think I did alright, and another time with stellar results.
The stellar results incident was when I had a decent, human discussion with my landlord over this stretch of carpet at the top of the stairs. The dogs like to think of it as an extended version of the yard and, well, it smelled and looked like hell. The tenants before me either used it as a toilet or the designated coffee spill station and it was just horrible. Every night I would find myself carpet shampooing it to no avail, and every morning when I walked over it to use the bathroom it was a sharp reminder that I was a renter with less control than a home owner.
So I asked him if I could tear it up. No big deal to the rest of the world, but I have always had a very...interesting relationship with my landlords. Always fearful of speaking up. Always not wanting to rock the boat. I know, it's weird and it's all wrapped up in my avoidant personality and my desire to really not be a tenant and to rule my own kingdom (aka HOUSE).
He was thrilled with the idea and basically scolded me for even asking. His words were pretty much this: You are a good tenant, a good woman, and you know how to take care of a house. Do whatever you want and don't feel like you have to ask. Well, alrighty then.
His affirmation and this small gesture, plus a lot of sweat, swearing, and bandaids has taken me miles away from feeling like a person trapped by circumstance to a person who just might be able to enjoy the next couple of years here, before Sadie graduates and it's time to settle back down into my own home again.
I know that ripping up some carpet feels like a silly thing to be so joyful over, but it's huge in my world. We talked about this at therapy and came to the conclusion that it is a small victory in enjoying my life now. My life has revolved around modifying my environment to make it more beautiful and comfortable for so many years now that it made me feel powerless to think that I was unable to do so in a rental. If you've been reading this blog for any length of time you know of my penchant for ripping down wallpaper, spackling, painting, clearing debris, planting things, and basically controlling my own domain. I have missed it and it makes me feel very good to gain some of that back.
My landlord is awesome. My desire, wherever I go, is to leave a place a little bit better than the way I found it. I can do this here and it makes it feel a little bit more like a home.
Well, maybe it is a pervasive issue in the human psyche. Or at least mine. But we talked a lot last week about how confrontation and assertiveness can seem like a really scary thing to practice. It can cause discomfort and humans do not like discomfort. Well, most don't. I am part of the most don't.
However, I am trying to build awareness of when the need to assert myself is a must and practicing this very delicate art. I'm trying to do it in a different way. The old way that I am trying so hard to break away from is like this: avoid it until it is entirely uncomfortable and messes my mind up completely, then finally say something in a way that leaves me feeling like apologizing afterwards because I came off like a bitch with pent-up rage.
So that old way will not do. I would rather go to bed at night knowing that I made my needs or my kids needs known, in a fair and kind way. The reaction of the other party doesn't matter as much as feeling comfortable with the way I delivered the message.
I stumbled through this task a little bit this week. I can count one time where I didn't do this correctly, one time where I think I did alright, and another time with stellar results.
The stellar results incident was when I had a decent, human discussion with my landlord over this stretch of carpet at the top of the stairs. The dogs like to think of it as an extended version of the yard and, well, it smelled and looked like hell. The tenants before me either used it as a toilet or the designated coffee spill station and it was just horrible. Every night I would find myself carpet shampooing it to no avail, and every morning when I walked over it to use the bathroom it was a sharp reminder that I was a renter with less control than a home owner.
So I asked him if I could tear it up. No big deal to the rest of the world, but I have always had a very...interesting relationship with my landlords. Always fearful of speaking up. Always not wanting to rock the boat. I know, it's weird and it's all wrapped up in my avoidant personality and my desire to really not be a tenant and to rule my own kingdom (aka HOUSE).
He was thrilled with the idea and basically scolded me for even asking. His words were pretty much this: You are a good tenant, a good woman, and you know how to take care of a house. Do whatever you want and don't feel like you have to ask. Well, alrighty then.
His affirmation and this small gesture, plus a lot of sweat, swearing, and bandaids has taken me miles away from feeling like a person trapped by circumstance to a person who just might be able to enjoy the next couple of years here, before Sadie graduates and it's time to settle back down into my own home again.
I know that ripping up some carpet feels like a silly thing to be so joyful over, but it's huge in my world. We talked about this at therapy and came to the conclusion that it is a small victory in enjoying my life now. My life has revolved around modifying my environment to make it more beautiful and comfortable for so many years now that it made me feel powerless to think that I was unable to do so in a rental. If you've been reading this blog for any length of time you know of my penchant for ripping down wallpaper, spackling, painting, clearing debris, planting things, and basically controlling my own domain. I have missed it and it makes me feel very good to gain some of that back.
My landlord is awesome. My desire, wherever I go, is to leave a place a little bit better than the way I found it. I can do this here and it makes it feel a little bit more like a home.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
What I Want
Preface: Things are good. Nothing is terrible right now. In a way I know that I have either everything I need, or at least everything I need right now.
I am 3 sessions deep into this therapy thing and it's good I suppose but it definitely feels like work or some sort. So far I have only good thoughts and feelings about my therapist. He's an older man, gentle and kind in many ways but he also feels very down-to-earth, using expressions like "this sucks" or "bullshit" and such. Oddly (or not) this makes me feel more comfortable. Probably because I am a raging potty-mouth.
I do get a bit tense around Monday or Tuesday because my sessions are on Thursdays. There is always at least one very teary moment. I like to think that these are the moments where we are hitting home in a way, where some sort of progress is being made.
I find the process fascinating. I see the trust building and it's a little bit daunting but it also makes me feel very hopeful. I think a lot of what we are doing now is very task oriented-there are clearly certain things that need to occur before I can move on from this phase and we are identifying them together. However, with my mastery of the art of procrastination, this is difficult. I do have my work cut out for me.
*****
So I really wanted to list a few things here after that I would like to achieve when the I'm able to clear through the greater portion of the muck that I dwell in has been dredged away.
I want my own home again. I want to share my home with those I love and enjoy. I want my home to be an open and welcoming environment. I have this before and I can do it again.
I want to have completely integrated Rob's life and death into my own life and not have it weigh like an anchor on my soul any longer.
I want to be the best parent I possibly can be to my girls.
I want to be able to view life as a series of ups and downs and not take the downs so damn personally.
I want to be able to communicate with anyone, my own personal truths and needs, and not shy away from confrontation. I want to not fear causing people displeasure or disappointment with the decisions I make in my best interests. I want to do all of this in the most loving and respectful way.
*****
I have tons and tons of things to be thankful for. I have sustained loss. I am no longer in survival mode. I am in living mode.
I am 3 sessions deep into this therapy thing and it's good I suppose but it definitely feels like work or some sort. So far I have only good thoughts and feelings about my therapist. He's an older man, gentle and kind in many ways but he also feels very down-to-earth, using expressions like "this sucks" or "bullshit" and such. Oddly (or not) this makes me feel more comfortable. Probably because I am a raging potty-mouth.
I do get a bit tense around Monday or Tuesday because my sessions are on Thursdays. There is always at least one very teary moment. I like to think that these are the moments where we are hitting home in a way, where some sort of progress is being made.
I find the process fascinating. I see the trust building and it's a little bit daunting but it also makes me feel very hopeful. I think a lot of what we are doing now is very task oriented-there are clearly certain things that need to occur before I can move on from this phase and we are identifying them together. However, with my mastery of the art of procrastination, this is difficult. I do have my work cut out for me.
*****
So I really wanted to list a few things here after that I would like to achieve when the I'm able to clear through the greater portion of the muck that I dwell in has been dredged away.
I want my own home again. I want to share my home with those I love and enjoy. I want my home to be an open and welcoming environment. I have this before and I can do it again.
I want to have completely integrated Rob's life and death into my own life and not have it weigh like an anchor on my soul any longer.
I want to be the best parent I possibly can be to my girls.
I want to be able to view life as a series of ups and downs and not take the downs so damn personally.
I want to be able to communicate with anyone, my own personal truths and needs, and not shy away from confrontation. I want to not fear causing people displeasure or disappointment with the decisions I make in my best interests. I want to do all of this in the most loving and respectful way.
*****
I have tons and tons of things to be thankful for. I have sustained loss. I am no longer in survival mode. I am in living mode.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Today
I started therapy today.
Oh dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into? I know it's the right thing to do, I feel very positive about the therapist, and I am sure it's going to help.
But listen: I fear what I'm going to have to pass through in this process.
One question asked of me today, and it was put as gently as possible, was why did I seek therapy NOW and not THEN. Excellent question. When I think of some of the stumbling blocks along the way, I feel as if maybe I could have avoided at least a few of them. However, I am here today, in whatever shape I am in, because of my yesterdays.
There is work to be done for me to clear up some issues before I can move forward in a healthier way. I *HATE* telling my story, Rob's story, what happened to our family and to myself. I don't know if it will ever get easier telling it. Still, there are things to concerning the grief that have spread out like a giant squid's tentacles, into so many small places in my life. It has brought about changes in me, some actually good and some not so good.
All of this is hard to discuss and I really wasn't ready until now. When I really take a moment to exam this, I curl back and block it out of my mind and I think it's time to stop doing that. I need to embrace the joy that I find without randomly flashing back to the pain and loss that has actually made my new experiences, hell-my new life, possible.
The mantra delivered to me over and over again, the thing that rings in my ears daily, the saying that I must believe at all costs is "there is a reason for everything." I was very humble about this in the beginning. I only allowed this to be true, perhaps, for the benefit of future generations, Sadie and Penny, maybe their own children. I believed that my life was basically over and that hopefully somehow the turn of events would allow them to feel some kind of joy, pleasure, or fulfillment that wouldn't have been available to them if our lives had proceeded exactly as I had planned things.
I cannot settle for this. I consider myself as more than a survivor; I am a person who can and will find meaning in her own life through sheer will, good friendship, and an undying spirit. There was nothing that the higher power put in my path that was not meant for me to live through. By and large, most of it has been very, very good.
Oh dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into? I know it's the right thing to do, I feel very positive about the therapist, and I am sure it's going to help.
But listen: I fear what I'm going to have to pass through in this process.
One question asked of me today, and it was put as gently as possible, was why did I seek therapy NOW and not THEN. Excellent question. When I think of some of the stumbling blocks along the way, I feel as if maybe I could have avoided at least a few of them. However, I am here today, in whatever shape I am in, because of my yesterdays.
There is work to be done for me to clear up some issues before I can move forward in a healthier way. I *HATE* telling my story, Rob's story, what happened to our family and to myself. I don't know if it will ever get easier telling it. Still, there are things to concerning the grief that have spread out like a giant squid's tentacles, into so many small places in my life. It has brought about changes in me, some actually good and some not so good.
All of this is hard to discuss and I really wasn't ready until now. When I really take a moment to exam this, I curl back and block it out of my mind and I think it's time to stop doing that. I need to embrace the joy that I find without randomly flashing back to the pain and loss that has actually made my new experiences, hell-my new life, possible.
The mantra delivered to me over and over again, the thing that rings in my ears daily, the saying that I must believe at all costs is "there is a reason for everything." I was very humble about this in the beginning. I only allowed this to be true, perhaps, for the benefit of future generations, Sadie and Penny, maybe their own children. I believed that my life was basically over and that hopefully somehow the turn of events would allow them to feel some kind of joy, pleasure, or fulfillment that wouldn't have been available to them if our lives had proceeded exactly as I had planned things.
I cannot settle for this. I consider myself as more than a survivor; I am a person who can and will find meaning in her own life through sheer will, good friendship, and an undying spirit. There was nothing that the higher power put in my path that was not meant for me to live through. By and large, most of it has been very, very good.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Spring
This past weekend I had a little getaway to New Hope, PA. Ok, it might not sound like the hottest vacation spot in the world, but it's a great place to stay for a couple of nights while catching up with friends. Great places to eat, comfy B&B's, minimal driving required during your stay.
Which is great if you do the kind of drinking that I do while vacationing.
And the eating! Dear Lord, Eggs Benedict is a hearty dish for someone who mostly eats yogurt, chicken, fruit, and salad these days. With the occasion KFC drumstick thrown in for good measure. I was not prepared for the price I had to pay for hollandaise sauce. But it was perfect. It tasted so good.
Most of the food was excellent, the wineries were comically horrible, and the massage was to die for. Literally. My massage therapist worked the ever-loving-shit out of my left trapezius and neck that it actually made me cry. No, not in pain, but in the dear-God-you-are-releasing-4-or-5 -years-of-anxiety-sadness-and-assorted-atrocities-variety. Unbelievable.
Seriously folks, I worked out some longstanding mental ISSUES while this fine lady went ape shit on that part of my body. So much forgiveness for the things in life that I have been angry about occurred during that session, it would be too much to tell. But I wanted to document it here and remember it always. And as soon as I feel this part of my body acting up again, I will RUN to the next available massage therapist and we will work it out again.
And speaking of forgiveness and working it out, I have decided to delete a few of my older postings and go somewhat public with this blog again. All of my OG readers can just remember in their minds, if they want and/or can, things written here before. Thank you for reading some of that ugliness. Your comments were very supportive and I appreciate it. I don't believe in changing the past but sometimes personal history can do with a bit of erasure. Especially when it's on the Internet :-P
Anyway, this is a new era, one in which I do not stand by, foot on the clutch, idling. The world can be my oyster if I allow it to be. I am thankful for the good experiences, attitudes, and people that have come my way.
Which is great if you do the kind of drinking that I do while vacationing.
And the eating! Dear Lord, Eggs Benedict is a hearty dish for someone who mostly eats yogurt, chicken, fruit, and salad these days. With the occasion KFC drumstick thrown in for good measure. I was not prepared for the price I had to pay for hollandaise sauce. But it was perfect. It tasted so good.
Most of the food was excellent, the wineries were comically horrible, and the massage was to die for. Literally. My massage therapist worked the ever-loving-shit out of my left trapezius and neck that it actually made me cry. No, not in pain, but in the dear-God-you-are-releasing-4-or-5 -years-of-anxiety-sadness-and-assorted-atrocities-variety. Unbelievable.
Seriously folks, I worked out some longstanding mental ISSUES while this fine lady went ape shit on that part of my body. So much forgiveness for the things in life that I have been angry about occurred during that session, it would be too much to tell. But I wanted to document it here and remember it always. And as soon as I feel this part of my body acting up again, I will RUN to the next available massage therapist and we will work it out again.
And speaking of forgiveness and working it out, I have decided to delete a few of my older postings and go somewhat public with this blog again. All of my OG readers can just remember in their minds, if they want and/or can, things written here before. Thank you for reading some of that ugliness. Your comments were very supportive and I appreciate it. I don't believe in changing the past but sometimes personal history can do with a bit of erasure. Especially when it's on the Internet :-P
Anyway, this is a new era, one in which I do not stand by, foot on the clutch, idling. The world can be my oyster if I allow it to be. I am thankful for the good experiences, attitudes, and people that have come my way.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Kittens and Things
Things have calmed down in my life considerably. I think this has a lot to do with not drinking coffee anymore. I had a cup or two last Sunday after attending an awesome party which involved a bit of drinking the night before.
In case you were wondering, there was no driving involved. There was, however, a shuttle bus which took us back to a hotel where everyone was able to safely sleep it off in safety and dine on eggs and bacon the next morning. And that's when I had a little bit of coffee, but for a week before and ever since then, there has been none.
I can tell you right now that I will never be a coffee Nazi. I can only say from my own personal experience that the change has been profound. I do drink a cup of tea in the morning, black tea which has caffeine. I am told that this has just as much or possibly more caffeine than coffee, ounce for ounce, but I just feel DIFFERENT. My anxiety is minimal, my thoughts don't race nearly as much, my concentration is OK, and I just feel a hell of lot more in control of my impulses.
Who cares about that when there is a kitten in the house?!
His name is Lucius and Sadie snuck him home last Sunday night despite my protests to her pleas over last weekend. As of this writing he is seven weeks old and I love him. He's a grey, tiger-striped bundle of joy with 4 white paws. His eyes are yellowish-green.
When she first found him he was on the side corner of Main Street Lodi and Route 46, tucked up into a guard rail on the exit ramp. He was dirty and terrified, with eyes crusted shut with pus. His belly was hard and bloated and his limbs were skinny. She gave him a few baths over the weekend while I was dancing the night away and possibly making a fool of myself among people I hardly knew but who seemed to like me just the way I was. The kitten I thought I had swiftly rejected was far from my mind but being tended to in the most loving manner possible but my own child.
Her decision to disobey direct orders is probably going to go down in history as the one that makes me proudest.
While getting ready for our day on Monday morning I heard a distinct meow come from her room. We were in the hallway by the bathroom together and I looked at her and she looked at me and she tried to deny the fact that there was a cat in the house but the writing was on the wall. She broke down and begged me to keep him, to just take a look at him, wanting to tell me the story but we were all too busy to get into it right then and there. I told her he was going to the shelter that evening, listing all of the reasons why we cannot keep a cat in this house.
On the drive to work, I started to think that maybe a shelter wasn't the best idea. They are over-loaded with cats just like this one. I have a tremendous amount of respect for animal shelters and what they do and I started to think that maybe, just maybe, we could lighten that load by one cat and take care of matters ourselves. I found myself dialing our vet and before I knew it we had an appointment that evening.
We don't live in a palace, but we do have a little bit of room that can be dedicated for the kitten before he gets too big. We are not millionaires, but there is enough room in the budget to get this guy his shots and get him neutered. We are all busy, but not so busy that we can't take a little bit of time out of each day to make sure that he's played with and feels love.
We already have a few potential placements for him and one in particular feels like it's really going to work but they aren't sure if neutering is in their budget right now. I have told these people that I will absolutely cover the costs of neutering if they want to bring him into their home. I am prepared for this and I really wouldn't have it any other way.
I can't help but feel very good about what we are doing. We took in an animal that would have, in the best of circumstances, become just another feral cat-diseased, malnourished, populating the area with more and more feral cats. Instead, he is now well-fed, playful, attended to medically, and not going to reproduce. Again, my pride in Sadie for over-riding my decision is great, and I am humbled by her wisdom.
Lucius means "bringer of light." Our home has been a lot brighter since his entrance into our lives. Lord knows, judging by the last handful of posts, I was looking for the light in all the wrong places. I feel like the light found me.
In case you were wondering, there was no driving involved. There was, however, a shuttle bus which took us back to a hotel where everyone was able to safely sleep it off in safety and dine on eggs and bacon the next morning. And that's when I had a little bit of coffee, but for a week before and ever since then, there has been none.
I can tell you right now that I will never be a coffee Nazi. I can only say from my own personal experience that the change has been profound. I do drink a cup of tea in the morning, black tea which has caffeine. I am told that this has just as much or possibly more caffeine than coffee, ounce for ounce, but I just feel DIFFERENT. My anxiety is minimal, my thoughts don't race nearly as much, my concentration is OK, and I just feel a hell of lot more in control of my impulses.
Who cares about that when there is a kitten in the house?!
His name is Lucius and Sadie snuck him home last Sunday night despite my protests to her pleas over last weekend. As of this writing he is seven weeks old and I love him. He's a grey, tiger-striped bundle of joy with 4 white paws. His eyes are yellowish-green.
When she first found him he was on the side corner of Main Street Lodi and Route 46, tucked up into a guard rail on the exit ramp. He was dirty and terrified, with eyes crusted shut with pus. His belly was hard and bloated and his limbs were skinny. She gave him a few baths over the weekend while I was dancing the night away and possibly making a fool of myself among people I hardly knew but who seemed to like me just the way I was. The kitten I thought I had swiftly rejected was far from my mind but being tended to in the most loving manner possible but my own child.
Her decision to disobey direct orders is probably going to go down in history as the one that makes me proudest.
While getting ready for our day on Monday morning I heard a distinct meow come from her room. We were in the hallway by the bathroom together and I looked at her and she looked at me and she tried to deny the fact that there was a cat in the house but the writing was on the wall. She broke down and begged me to keep him, to just take a look at him, wanting to tell me the story but we were all too busy to get into it right then and there. I told her he was going to the shelter that evening, listing all of the reasons why we cannot keep a cat in this house.
On the drive to work, I started to think that maybe a shelter wasn't the best idea. They are over-loaded with cats just like this one. I have a tremendous amount of respect for animal shelters and what they do and I started to think that maybe, just maybe, we could lighten that load by one cat and take care of matters ourselves. I found myself dialing our vet and before I knew it we had an appointment that evening.
We don't live in a palace, but we do have a little bit of room that can be dedicated for the kitten before he gets too big. We are not millionaires, but there is enough room in the budget to get this guy his shots and get him neutered. We are all busy, but not so busy that we can't take a little bit of time out of each day to make sure that he's played with and feels love.
We already have a few potential placements for him and one in particular feels like it's really going to work but they aren't sure if neutering is in their budget right now. I have told these people that I will absolutely cover the costs of neutering if they want to bring him into their home. I am prepared for this and I really wouldn't have it any other way.
I can't help but feel very good about what we are doing. We took in an animal that would have, in the best of circumstances, become just another feral cat-diseased, malnourished, populating the area with more and more feral cats. Instead, he is now well-fed, playful, attended to medically, and not going to reproduce. Again, my pride in Sadie for over-riding my decision is great, and I am humbled by her wisdom.
Lucius means "bringer of light." Our home has been a lot brighter since his entrance into our lives. Lord knows, judging by the last handful of posts, I was looking for the light in all the wrong places. I feel like the light found me.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Let's Not Pretend
Relationships issues haven't been the only issues that I've been dealing with.
I am at a major crossroads concerning career and family life. Every single day I drag myself off to work, which is beginning to feel more and more like an absolute dead-end of career with a lot of potential is I felt like scrambling to it at the crack of dawn, standing for 8 or 9 or 10 hours, scrambling back to daycare 2 minutes before closing. Instead, I get to work from 9 to 5 and watch my clinical skills go down the toilet as I fight on the phone with insurance companies and just deal with a ton of other annoying crap.
I will cut to the chase: I am considering leaving work and going back to school, not necessarily for nursing either. I spent the better part of this day on the phone with various administrations and entities, including but not limited to Social Security, my state's insurance program for children, Blue Cross/Blue Shield or myself, and more of the like. I have crunched out two separate budgets, one for the way it is now and one for the way it might be if I left work.
Can there not be a happy medium?
If I leave work, I retain my benefits, but I will only keep my head above water if I stream-line EVERYTHING. I will no longer have to deal with a ton of nonsense, the by-products of the most expensive and yet broken system imaginable. I will have tons more free time with Penny and be more available to Sadie, but I will be saying good bye to a lot of the extras.
All I know is that something, SOMETHING, has got to give. I certainly don't want it to be my sense of sanity that pops loose. Maybe after having a little bit of time to gain perspective I can return to work but in a different way. Perhaps mental health is just too intense for me, hits too close to home.
I don't know if it's the insurance battles and other red tape, or if it's something else like "delivering care" constantly that is driving me up the wall. I just feel like I don't have a minute to myself, a minute to think clearly, or what. All I know for sure is, I feel like I'm clawing for a way out of this mess. Everything feels so complicated and I wish it wasn't so.
I am at a major crossroads concerning career and family life. Every single day I drag myself off to work, which is beginning to feel more and more like an absolute dead-end of career with a lot of potential is I felt like scrambling to it at the crack of dawn, standing for 8 or 9 or 10 hours, scrambling back to daycare 2 minutes before closing. Instead, I get to work from 9 to 5 and watch my clinical skills go down the toilet as I fight on the phone with insurance companies and just deal with a ton of other annoying crap.
I will cut to the chase: I am considering leaving work and going back to school, not necessarily for nursing either. I spent the better part of this day on the phone with various administrations and entities, including but not limited to Social Security, my state's insurance program for children, Blue Cross/Blue Shield or myself, and more of the like. I have crunched out two separate budgets, one for the way it is now and one for the way it might be if I left work.
Can there not be a happy medium?
If I leave work, I retain my benefits, but I will only keep my head above water if I stream-line EVERYTHING. I will no longer have to deal with a ton of nonsense, the by-products of the most expensive and yet broken system imaginable. I will have tons more free time with Penny and be more available to Sadie, but I will be saying good bye to a lot of the extras.
All I know is that something, SOMETHING, has got to give. I certainly don't want it to be my sense of sanity that pops loose. Maybe after having a little bit of time to gain perspective I can return to work but in a different way. Perhaps mental health is just too intense for me, hits too close to home.
I don't know if it's the insurance battles and other red tape, or if it's something else like "delivering care" constantly that is driving me up the wall. I just feel like I don't have a minute to myself, a minute to think clearly, or what. All I know for sure is, I feel like I'm clawing for a way out of this mess. Everything feels so complicated and I wish it wasn't so.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
I am really good at...
I am really good at just maintaining.
I am terrible at starting.
I am even worse at ending.
Maybe I can blame it on the time of the year I was born in because Scorpio is a fixed sign. This means that once the project is underway, I am really good at keeping it going and tweaking the bugs out along the way. I know this is a blanket statement and there are a few things I am really good at starting. Meals. Opening bottles of wine. Turning the washing machine on.
When introduced into a broken system, other than my own, I am superb at fixing it, stream-lining it, maintaining it. I derive a great deal of satisfaction out of cleaning other people's messes.
Right now I wish to find direction.
That is all.
I am terrible at starting.
I am even worse at ending.
Maybe I can blame it on the time of the year I was born in because Scorpio is a fixed sign. This means that once the project is underway, I am really good at keeping it going and tweaking the bugs out along the way. I know this is a blanket statement and there are a few things I am really good at starting. Meals. Opening bottles of wine. Turning the washing machine on.
When introduced into a broken system, other than my own, I am superb at fixing it, stream-lining it, maintaining it. I derive a great deal of satisfaction out of cleaning other people's messes.
Right now I wish to find direction.
That is all.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Nearly a month has gone by since I last posted but so much has happened.
Well, the chili cook off went well, it was very nice, and I came in fourth place out of about 20 entries.
Unfortunately, I found out that same morning that my aunt Rose passed away after a long battle with cancer, which has left a huge empty space in our family. She was the personification of grace and class and I really looked up to her. I started writing a fairly long entry about her but it just felt so meaningless and impotent that I couldn't bring myself to post it.
Since then, I've really been struggling with a lot of issues, not even directly related to her but somehow sparked by her passing. A lot of centers around other family issues that I struggle with, some it involves a friend that has disappointed me so deeply (if you are reading this it is not YOU), and a ton of it has to do with the passage of time and how I've been using it, or misusing it, or missing it, or just not hitting the mark lately.
I feel like I'm just barely getting by, mentally and emotionally, and that I am not really living.
One thing I aim to do, after taxes are done, is to really take a slash and burn approach to most of my material possessions. What this has to do with anything I don't know, but I do know that I have my apartment about 50% organized to the way I want it to be and have a fairly large storage unit that calls me to whittle it down mercilessly. I had been working on this a bit last month before the shit hit the fan and I need to get back to it.
I just feel like a lot of my things complicate my life. Their storage is a drain on my checking account since I pay for them to be stored. And let me tell you, visiting that storage unit takes me on a trip back in time that I really don't need to be revisiting. It's like I walk in there and my old life is all packed up looking at me straight in the face. China, clothing, the archives of what I once had.
Well, the chili cook off went well, it was very nice, and I came in fourth place out of about 20 entries.
Unfortunately, I found out that same morning that my aunt Rose passed away after a long battle with cancer, which has left a huge empty space in our family. She was the personification of grace and class and I really looked up to her. I started writing a fairly long entry about her but it just felt so meaningless and impotent that I couldn't bring myself to post it.
Since then, I've really been struggling with a lot of issues, not even directly related to her but somehow sparked by her passing. A lot of centers around other family issues that I struggle with, some it involves a friend that has disappointed me so deeply (if you are reading this it is not YOU), and a ton of it has to do with the passage of time and how I've been using it, or misusing it, or missing it, or just not hitting the mark lately.
I feel like I'm just barely getting by, mentally and emotionally, and that I am not really living.
One thing I aim to do, after taxes are done, is to really take a slash and burn approach to most of my material possessions. What this has to do with anything I don't know, but I do know that I have my apartment about 50% organized to the way I want it to be and have a fairly large storage unit that calls me to whittle it down mercilessly. I had been working on this a bit last month before the shit hit the fan and I need to get back to it.
I just feel like a lot of my things complicate my life. Their storage is a drain on my checking account since I pay for them to be stored. And let me tell you, visiting that storage unit takes me on a trip back in time that I really don't need to be revisiting. It's like I walk in there and my old life is all packed up looking at me straight in the face. China, clothing, the archives of what I once had.
Monday, March 09, 2009
Reinventing the Wheel
So I am slated to participate in a chili cook-off this weekend. Don't get excited, I think it's pretty much an laid-back, amateur deal. Don't expect to see me on the Food Network, sweating over a cauldron of chili.
Yet.
I'm going with Kirk to one of his best childhood/high school friends, somewhere back west. I'm told it's "outside of Allentown" whatever that means. This is someone I knew from high school too and they haven't seen me since I was a senior in high school I guess. Should be interesting.
I want to prepare a chili that stands apart from the crowd, yet is totally recognizable as, well, chili. It's not going to be a tofu chili, or a fruit chili, or a Polish chili, or any other kind of chili that is just NOT chili.
I'm feeling a lot of (pleasant) pressure to figure out how to pull this off. I'm sure in the end I will wind up making something that is great and that makes everyone love me for WHO I AM, and marvel over how I have opened their eyes to the unbelievable potential that is in this dish and inside me. Maybe they will sit back at the end of the night and think "she didn't turn out so bad afterall. Hell, she can really make some good chili."
And I'm thinking that with this chili, maybe my whole existence on this blog might come full-cirlce, since it is, afterall Mommydawg's Famous Chili. Or at least it started that way. Hmmm...
This is a lot to expect of one dish, one crockpot full of beans, ground beef, aromatics, tomato base, and whatever else goes in there. But I've been known to conquer my own world one meal at a time and this should be no exception.
If anyone has any ideas of what might help make a nice chili, I'm all ears. Again, it's going to have a very traditional base of beef, beans, tomato, spices. The rest is up in the air. It needs to be a crowd pleaser so it can't be too spicy, too hippy, too far-reaching for the average palate.
Some bullets:
Yet.
I'm going with Kirk to one of his best childhood/high school friends, somewhere back west. I'm told it's "outside of Allentown" whatever that means. This is someone I knew from high school too and they haven't seen me since I was a senior in high school I guess. Should be interesting.
I want to prepare a chili that stands apart from the crowd, yet is totally recognizable as, well, chili. It's not going to be a tofu chili, or a fruit chili, or a Polish chili, or any other kind of chili that is just NOT chili.
I'm feeling a lot of (pleasant) pressure to figure out how to pull this off. I'm sure in the end I will wind up making something that is great and that makes everyone love me for WHO I AM, and marvel over how I have opened their eyes to the unbelievable potential that is in this dish and inside me. Maybe they will sit back at the end of the night and think "she didn't turn out so bad afterall. Hell, she can really make some good chili."
And I'm thinking that with this chili, maybe my whole existence on this blog might come full-cirlce, since it is, afterall Mommydawg's Famous Chili. Or at least it started that way. Hmmm...
This is a lot to expect of one dish, one crockpot full of beans, ground beef, aromatics, tomato base, and whatever else goes in there. But I've been known to conquer my own world one meal at a time and this should be no exception.
If anyone has any ideas of what might help make a nice chili, I'm all ears. Again, it's going to have a very traditional base of beef, beans, tomato, spices. The rest is up in the air. It needs to be a crowd pleaser so it can't be too spicy, too hippy, too far-reaching for the average palate.
Some bullets:
- Beef-toying with which type of ground beef might be best (chuck, sirloin, leaner cuts) vs. not ground beef (perhaps chuck steak cooked til it's falling apart and shredded).
- Beans (kidney, a mix, or something else entirely).
- Tomato (thinking a thicker consistency is best so maybe paste with a little bit of chopped fresh sans seeds and juice).
- Aromatics (Needs the fresh garlic and onion but is there anything else I'm missing? Anyone have any opinion of maybe shallots or a particular color of onion or anything else I can't think of?)
- Chili powder (Do I go nuts actually grinding my own? How is this even done? Any particular brand/style/etc. stand out to anyone?)
- Thinking about making a back-up batch of brown roux just in case it needs a little more thickness and depth.
- Beer (I remember having chili made with beer in it once and it was good. What type should I use, if I use it? Something light [not to be confused with "Lite"] and Mexican, like Corona or Tecate or should I got for dark, like Guiness?)
- Some other ingredient I'm not thinking of?
Stuff on the side:
- Corn bread with cheddar in the mix, half the batch with a slice of jalapeno on top, half without
- Very high quality sour cream
- Avocado, to slice right on the spot
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Salad Days and Other Food Rambles
I have a lot of very strong opinions about food. If you know me, you know I'm a bit of a foodie. I am not really militant about this topic, I have a somewhat laissez-faire stance on what other people eat. My own habits range from downright awful to fairly good.
I'm just going to list here some of my own thoughts on the topic of food with absolutely no references to back up my ideas. Call them all hunches. If any of these hunches bear any resemblance to reality it is almost purely coincidental. It is all based upon instinct, taste, personal experience, magical thinking, and a few things I might have read that I agree with.
I'm just going to list here some of my own thoughts on the topic of food with absolutely no references to back up my ideas. Call them all hunches. If any of these hunches bear any resemblance to reality it is almost purely coincidental. It is all based upon instinct, taste, personal experience, magical thinking, and a few things I might have read that I agree with.
- Avocados once kind of saved my life. I was having a bought of, well, I guess colitis or something. I don't know, I never went to the doctor for it so I was never "diagnosed." However, I was really sick with diarrhea for months and dropping weight like crazy. I chalked it up to stress. Anyway, I started working at a restaurant called The Cafe du Soleil (sadly, now defunct) and avocados were frequently on the menu. I tried them, loved them, ate them daily, and got better. I still eat at least one per week. End of story.
- Sorry I started the list with a diarrhea story.
- Excess sodium is a killer. It's hard on the kidneys, raises blood pressure, and spoils the taste buds. The current standard for the absolute upper limit of a healthy person's daily consumption is now 2400 grams per day. I predict that in time this is going to be lowered to 2000 gram or less. A healthy diet of all fresh foods will supply all the sodium that a healthy person needs. Yes, not enough sodium is bad, but most people are no where near the danger zone.
- Ginger ale is the best soda in the world. It is really good with vodka and a maraschino cherry. It's also good alone.
- Grapefruits are the most refreshing substance on the face of the Earth to me. You know this is some powerful shit if there are actually medications cannot be taken with concurrent intake of this fine fruit. There are a variety of drugs that don't mix well with grapefruit such as cholesterol-lowering statins, some anti-hypertensives, methadone, and others. Consider grapefruits a medicine of sorts and research whether or not you can eat it while taking your regular medications.
- Chicken is an amazing, delicious animal. They are my most favorite animal to look at, mingle with, and eat. They make eggs, which have multiple uses, and they are delicious to eat themselves. I absolutely ASPIRE to have chickens running around my yard in my lifetime. Who knows, maybe actually living among chickens will cause me to not eat them anymore, but I will certainly eat their eggs. I just don't know if I have the heart to take their lives.
- I like steak, but I doubt if I could ever bring myself to actually kill a...cow?...steer?...bull? What the hell am I eating? I don't know, but it leaves me with mixed feelings. Still, delicious.
- Bacon is outrageously delicious. The best bacon I ever ate came from a farm that raised it's own pigs, slaughtered and butchered them, and then used a very old smokehouse on the property to cure it. Amazing. I also like ham. I ate this bacon 21 years ago and still remember it vividly.
- Easier on my conscious is the consumption of fish and other forms of seafood. The only stuff I don't like is anchovies, herring, smoked oysters, etc. I love all fresh sea foods. I am pretty good at preparing it too. From sea scallops, to fresh lobsters, to clams and mussels, to tilapia and salmon-I love it all and cook it pretty well.
- There really is no fruit or vegetable that you can name that I don't LOVE. Just try me. I like it. The only one I don't know about is that one fruit from somewhere far away, I think from an Asian location, that supposedly smells like a carcass. I'm not sure that's even food. But I'll try it.
- Gerber Meatsticks are really good and I know this because once a month I buy a jar and eat the whole thing within 5 minutes of unpacking the groceries. Way less salty than Vienna sausages.
- I am vehemently opposed to the presence of trans fats added to any food product. It's not even food. It's a poisonous substance. Any company that puts that in their foods, usually baked goods, is just taking the cheap and easy way out and doesn't care if it's killing you or not and is therefore not worthy of your money. They're killing you. Boycott these products.
- Personal experience has taught me that a salad a day beats a McDonald's a day.
- Coffee is an amazing beverage that, at this time in my life, I cannot do without. In the morning. At night it leads to racing thoughts, mania, depression, insomnia, and misery.
- I recently tried a chocolate bar that was so incredible that I want everyone in the world to try it and love it. Ok get this: dark chocolate with a hint of lavender and blueberry. OH MY GOD. Dagoba. Try it.
- This follows the idea of trans fats, but damnit people...if it's a fat and it's solid at room temperature it's probably not good for you. You're gonna eat it and it's going to be semi-solid in your blood and it's going to stick to your blood vessel walls and still be a solid and it's going to accumulate and build up and maybe some day break off and it's still doing to be a solid and it's going to lodge itself into one of your coronary arteries and you're NOT going to be a happy camper when that occurs.
- Olive oil is good.
- Butter is better than margarine with hydrogenated oils and it tastes a million times better so you'll probably use less anyway. Because the flavor is THERE.
- The benefits of fresh herbs is cooking probably no where near close to being understood. Consider them like trace elements or something.
- Honey is an amazing substance. A gift from the world of insects that balances out everything else annoying about insects. A work of art. A labor of love.
- My gut feeling is that artificial sweeteners are very, very bad for everyone. I think people just get used to that horrid flavor. Most people, upon trying it for the first time, are completely turned off by that disgusting taste. I think the taste buds can be convinced over time to accept it and I don't know that this is a good thing. Better to train your taste buds to not crave sweet in the first place? There are other flavors besides sweet and I think some of the more subtle flavors out there need to be appreciated.
- Sometimes sweet is over-rated.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
A Lament
Right now I just really feel like this family unit is being short-changed by my inability to be two people in one body. These aren't even tasks that I can ask anyone else to help with. These tasks demand that I cross the T's and dot the I's.
I know that we all have our trials and tribulations but I can't help but feel that mine are closer to impossible than most. Maybe that's horribly ego-centric of self-centered or _insert some other term for shitheadedness here_ but...DAMN...sometimes I just want my old life back. It wasn't perfect, it was nearly always mundane, but it flowed.
I keep on reminding myself that it won't be like this forever, but then what? Then the girls, or at least Sadie, will be grown and the "best" years will have flown by while I was practically begging those years to fly by. Penny will no longer fit on my lap and what will I look back to? Moments where I just wished that time would hurry up and take us out of this phase?
It's the red-tape of life that I am caught up in and I greatly resent not being able to divide the labor.
It's my 30's flying by and not really enjoying this time when I'm supposed to be at the peak of security in my appearance, sexuality, career, personhood, and just every other goddamn thing that life promises will happen in to you in your 30's.
It's just everything...
I know that we all have our trials and tribulations but I can't help but feel that mine are closer to impossible than most. Maybe that's horribly ego-centric of self-centered or _insert some other term for shitheadedness here_ but...DAMN...sometimes I just want my old life back. It wasn't perfect, it was nearly always mundane, but it flowed.
I keep on reminding myself that it won't be like this forever, but then what? Then the girls, or at least Sadie, will be grown and the "best" years will have flown by while I was practically begging those years to fly by. Penny will no longer fit on my lap and what will I look back to? Moments where I just wished that time would hurry up and take us out of this phase?
It's the red-tape of life that I am caught up in and I greatly resent not being able to divide the labor.
It's my 30's flying by and not really enjoying this time when I'm supposed to be at the peak of security in my appearance, sexuality, career, personhood, and just every other goddamn thing that life promises will happen in to you in your 30's.
It's just everything...
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Grandiose or More Grandiose?
Well, I decided to go private with this blog. If you got an invite it's because I'm comfortable with sharing it with you. Maybe you actually read it on occasion too :-P
Going public with it on Facebook was a Grand Plan inspired by Kurt who writes such a great blog in between all of the other really cool stuff that he's doing with himself. I admire his writing as much as I admire his openness with sharing it. For a while I thought I'd give sharing a try but I've come to find that I just don't want to share it with a potentially wider audience anymore.
The irony is that I seriously doubt that audience has gotten wider. If it has, there is a really good chance that some of the new readers might not be people I want reading it. The Facebook thing has become a runaway locomotive of people I sort of know, people I don't know at all, and people that I feel sort of wishy-washy about. Trust me, there are some gems in there that I'm so glad I found again, but mostly it's like a playground during recess. Not always filled with your best friends if you know what I mean.
I've felt very stifled by having Mommydawg public in the playground so to speak. I hope that this new sense of privacy will inspire me to be more honest and creative with what I do here. Still don't know what that is yet, but it's mine, it's safe again, and I can take the time to figure that out.
I hope this finds anyway reading well and in good spirits. Spirits have been a bit low here, but I'm no stranger to that. We are in the middle of another move again, hopefully one that shows itself to be an improvement, but I don't have to tell any of you how sick I am of this whole process, do I? My level of exhaustion over seeking comfort is high.
Going public with it on Facebook was a Grand Plan inspired by Kurt who writes such a great blog in between all of the other really cool stuff that he's doing with himself. I admire his writing as much as I admire his openness with sharing it. For a while I thought I'd give sharing a try but I've come to find that I just don't want to share it with a potentially wider audience anymore.
The irony is that I seriously doubt that audience has gotten wider. If it has, there is a really good chance that some of the new readers might not be people I want reading it. The Facebook thing has become a runaway locomotive of people I sort of know, people I don't know at all, and people that I feel sort of wishy-washy about. Trust me, there are some gems in there that I'm so glad I found again, but mostly it's like a playground during recess. Not always filled with your best friends if you know what I mean.
I've felt very stifled by having Mommydawg public in the playground so to speak. I hope that this new sense of privacy will inspire me to be more honest and creative with what I do here. Still don't know what that is yet, but it's mine, it's safe again, and I can take the time to figure that out.
I hope this finds anyway reading well and in good spirits. Spirits have been a bit low here, but I'm no stranger to that. We are in the middle of another move again, hopefully one that shows itself to be an improvement, but I don't have to tell any of you how sick I am of this whole process, do I? My level of exhaustion over seeking comfort is high.
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