This is our new dog, she is a Shih Tzu. My husband Steve picked her up Thursday night while I was working. We our having a hard time coming up with a name for her.
My Mom came over to my house last week and I had the Alexa playing music. She was surprised because I would name a song and Alexa would play the song.
She asked me how Alexa was hooked up, and I told her through our home internet. I told her I paid 4 dollars a month for unlimited music.
This morning she called to tell me a story about my niece.
When she was done with her story, she told me she heard Alexa could record your conversations inside your house, and on your phone. She told me, she had noticed when she was talking to me at times the phone would repeat back to her what we were saying on her end of the line. I said, if the government wanted to spy on me let them! We are over here talking about a cup of coffee splitting in half while I was taking a drink, and coffee splashed all over the place…
She chuckled and said I’m making you aware of what I’ve heard.
We hung up and there was knock at my door. Leery, I opened the blinds and two men in bright yellow vest were standing there. One man introduced himself. I spoke up and told them to hold on, I have to put some clothes on. I stepped outside and asked them where they were from. They said they were tax inspectors from an Assessors office taking pictures of our property for tax files, and there was nothing they needed from me, right now.
I started thinking about an unfamiliar Bill in the mail, and how I needed to call the doctors office and find out what’s going on. I decided to heat up a cup of coffee in the microwave. I had my phone in one hand and put the cup of coffee in the microwave with the other. I dialed the phone number, put the phone up to my ear and heard silence.
I looked up at the microwave and noticed I dialed the number of the doctors office into the microwave keyboard.
My Mom has me giving Alexa the side-eye!
I stepped down from my position as the Activity Director on Tuesday. I made this decision like a nurse pulling off a band-aid. I went back working as a Nursing Assistant in the evenings. I started last Wednesday. I have been off since Wednesday night when I clocked out. I’m glad I made the decision to take a few extra days off.
I wrote a post a few months back telling you I was not sure I could maintain the job. I was scheduling daily activities for the residents: outings, parties, competitions, entertainment, and games. I was getting the job done on one hand, but on the other hand I was having a hard time giving my residents quality time. I also had a hard time focusing on my family because I kept thinking about all the things I could be doing to be one step ahead of the game. The job was never done when you left.
Wednesday when I worked a staff member made a comment to me about being on vacation for eight months, and I could do the showers from now on. There was another comment made about the activity job being a “cake walk.” I know those comments don’t matter but they threw me for a loop, and made me second guess my decision.
I want to encourage you to read a few of blogs of mine, if time allows.. I went back and read them last night. They reminded me of the good times, I have had as a nursing assistant at the home. I want to come back to this post if need to, and give myself the whole story.
I made my decision fast. I should have kept the job in activities, held out, until I came across something new. I know I can’t should on myself, whats done is done. Yesterday I came across this quote. The quote cured the loneliness I’ve been feeling about making a mistake.
” I never make the same mistake twice. I do it three or four times just to make sure it was a mistake” Andrew’s View Of The Week
The pain I experienced was nothing I prepared for back then. I was single through high-school and after, someone came a long and changed my life. My lonely nights, to late night calls, beside my parents, hugs. He hugged me as if he were holding onto his own life, he asked me how I was. And questioned my past. We talked about his past, and at the time I just was not catching on
My friend, Cher, came and picked me up one day. She said she was “taking me up to the big city to find him”. We went to his sister apartment. She got into our car and showed us where you were staying. The place didn’t have all the windows, the skirting was unraveling like yarn, the yard had no grass, and there was blue-tarp over the roof. I can’t believe at the time, my eyes were sewn shut but they were. You took ten-minutes to come out and greet me. You looked whiter than normal, thinner than remembered, The black circles you had around your eyes are still embedded in my mind. You grabbed both of my hands and whispered to me “what are you doing here” I had to see you, and thought I deserved to know where you were… “Go back home.” I promise, I will call you tomorrow at twelve” I never got the call. But our phone did ring, my parents had them all locked up in their bedroom because I had been making long distance calls.
Eight months later I moved to the big city because I crashed my car. I moved in with my best friend. My friend Cher came up to visit me. She knew where you still stood with me. She said “let’s go over to his sisters” we did and you were there. I walked over and sat on the coach beside you. You were thinner than last time, you still had those black circles under your eyes, You would not look on either side, just straight ahead and you never said one word. We wrapped up talking to your sister, and on my way out, I turned around and asked if I could have a pen. I wrote down my phone number on the paper with a note. I walked over to you and tucked the piece of paper in your sweaty palm, you opened it right up, shook your head and smiled. I heard from you on and off after our visit. I chased after you, a few more times, and told myself, I was finished. However, a few months after I decided to throw in the towel. You showed up at my job, where I waitresed, you said nothing to me, as you waited for your pizza. I said nothing to you as well, not because I didn’t want too, but because I was mad. I got a phone call that night from you, you said you wanted a chance and that you would call me after you got off work.
The other night at the grocery store, seeing you, took me right back, to those moments in my life. The feelings I had did not follow the now. I told my mom how upset I was that they were not there and wished it wouldn’t have happened. She said “you got what you have been looking for, closure and closure is what you needed’
My friend Chris over the last six years has told me “give it up woman” she don’t understand why I hold on. She says “he’s the one who got away” I will ask her, do you think he did care? and she will say “no” he would be here if he did.” Another friend of mine, three said to me a couple of weeks ago it’s “your story, you’re a writer, why don’t you come up with your own ending?”
Dearlilyjune: Once wrote a memory of “Eddie” a guy she dated in her past. Even though, the story is different. These words stood out to me in neon flashing lights. I had an A-ha moment.”I stopped talking to him altogether. And it was the cruelest and kindest thing I could think of. And he, whether he felt it at the time or not, was lucky to be free of me”.
We didn’t say too much to one another besides the same old hi how are you, I may, may, I tell you been a little nervous, and picked up a Lipton tea package, turned it over acting like I was reading the package/ingredients because I was nervous. And said “Oh hell, it’s just Lipton”. You walked away to go stock another shelf. I could tell this wasn’t a moment you wanted to be in. I trailed behind you hoping, before the end of the aisle you would give me some sort of an apology and it did not come.
And this quote from -Leo Christopher landed in my lap a week ago today and clarity comes to my mind. I believe we get answer to our questions through other’s. The process might be slow but if we’re truly after peace, peace takes foot-work but it’s all right here in whats been wrote from other’s and their feelings.
I took the day off today, our step-children are visiting us from Texas. We got stuff moved from the garage to the basement, three of us went out to eat and my step-daughter and I went for a walk in Forest park. We took pictures, talked, we broke through to each-other. We came home and my husband filled up the pool, and the kids done some late night swimming. I’m sitting here about to wrap this whole thing up but first before I go.
My dearest first love,
Thank you for walking away from me, thank you for knowing, you weren’t for me, thank you for giving me a life I deserve.
I had a male resident at my current job. He was visually impaired, stood about five three or four. He had thin, buzzed, light brown hair. His room had nothing on the walls or dressers. He had a lady friend who lived in the home as well. Once a week a man my age now, would take him out to eat.
When doing my medicine pass one night I walked by his door. I saw him sitting on the edge of his bed. I backed up a few steps and stood there looking in. To make sure he was, alright.
He started to praying
“Thank you for the trees and leaves, thank you for the birds that sing, thank you for the rain and the sunshine, the cold days and the hot days, thank you for the good days and the bad days”
Every night, til the day he left, I joined him in prayer at his door. This may have not been the right thing to do but because what I felt inside his prayer it felt right, to me.
This past few weeks have been rough.
Ten years and this prayer has come back to me and many other times as well. I can’t help but think all those years he spent praying, was for me…
To bring me back to what counts in life. I’m so thankful for that time I was on the outside looking in.
Last night cooking supper I noticed our bird hanging upside from his food bowl. I gave our parrot a smile and continued fixing our supper. When I walked by the cage again he was sitting on the bottom with his green feathers puffed out. I stood at his cage for a moment staring in on him. He usually don’t sit in one place at the bottom of his cage. He either rubs his beak trying to get something off or he’s picking food off his floor. I read one time in a parrot pamphlet, “its abnormal behavior for them to be sitting on the bottom” I bent down opened his door and grabbed him out to take a closer look. When I put him on my finger he didn’t clinch it with his tight sharp grip, I embraced him in my hand and gently flipped him over to check out his feet thinking he may of hurt one, this was not the case. He did not fight me at all while accessing him and upon noticing this my heart started beating faster, thoughts racing and it was getting harder to focus. I then notice him opening his beak but nothing was coming out, not a chirp or peck. There was a bit of food on his beak which calmed me down, for a second thinking this was the problem. Unfortunately, he was still struggling to breath. I put him back down realizing he was on his way out, opened the back door where my husband hangs out on the deck and chain smokes. “Steve the bird is dying, what the hell did you do to him”? My husband being his calm self “nothing” he continued to puff away as the door slammed! It took a minute to start rationalizing because of hurt and panic. I knew he was dying and also new that it was too late in the game to head into town to the vet. The last time one of my animals went into respiratory distress. I got to the office, handed him over to the vet, as he started toward the back to check him out, the kitten died. The vet billed me for the hand off…
When Steven came in, I shared my thoughts on the subject, he did not disagree. We took Saltine in our room to pass. I felt this was to heavy for Gabe to know and watch.”Salty” died minutes later. I cried the rest of the time cooking supper my husband called out my name which was a prompt to “get a hold of myself'” I still stood at the sink slowly washing dishes with my back turned to my son. He then started telling me a story and when he was done. He asked me a question about his story. When I wouldn’t turn around he started digging his way in front of the sink and me “mom answer my question” ( I would have if I knew what he had asked).
“mom are you crying over my story”
“yes with a loud wail”
I was talking on the phone with my friend Michelle the other day about what I wanted to do with my life. It’s always been a regular conversation piece with us. She’s grounded and always challenges my pipe dreams. I told her I was thinking about changing my career path in school. (which by the way I have never started) to Social work. I do lots of talking and dreaming, please don’t feel like you need to chime in and tell me I can do it or still have time. It’s not what I-am going after in this post.
“Shelley I think you should continue to counsel people like you have been doing most of your life I think once you go into that career there’s red tape, it might mangle your outlook and damage the angle you do take with people.
I would suppose there is lots of truth in what she said
As long as I can remember people have confided in me, not only sharing their ideas or rundavoos but tragedies, mistakes, and what ifs. In my middle-age years I’ve come to think of it as a gift. I believe I was given the gift of love. It’s always been easy for me to do, more than the alternative. I will admit sometimes I fudge up but I try to keep my eye on the ball. I made a pact to myself when I was younger that I wouldn’t call people names for what they looked like or what they did or didn’t have. As I grew older my pact grew.
When your younger it’s all about looks, what you wear, and money. In your older years those things do follow but people start damning you for your choices, thoughts, and mistakes. I-am not going to tell you that I sit and agree with everything that is shared with me. It’s not my place to try to fix or change anyone either. My place in this world is to love and you can never steer anyone wrong with love.
One year in Two-Thousand-Three or Four, I was working with a cook. She worked every other weekend with me. On Sundays it was always just me and her working. She lived right behind the building we worked in. In the mornings from the dining room windows I would watch as she stumbled into work late.
She was tall, skinny and had light-brown shoulder link hair, It looked like she didn’t brush it. I would open the back door for her and she would say, “It was another rough night Shelley”. I would smile, say hello and act like I didn’t hear what she said, not because of conflict but because the heaviness in her eyes and the frown on her face told me a story.
I knew I would hear
We were taking a break in the living-room of our job one fall afternoon. I can still see the multicolored colored leaves on all the tress around the windows that lined the Living-room of where we were sitting. She was on one couch and I was on another one across from her. She slurred asking me “How my day was going” being so long ago I don’t quite remember what I told her, knowing me something light-hearted one of the residents did or said to cheer up the moment of awkwardness, we had going on since we hadn’t had too much conversation.
Her: Do you have any children?
We sat in silence for a few brief moment after I answered my question. Deep down for some reason I didn’t feel lead to return the question but noticed her head dropped down right along with her face as I gave her a look and a smile.
Her: Do you want any?
Her: I have three children my oldest are sixteen and eighteen, they’re in Foster-Care. We get to visit on Wednesdays if they want to see me, which usually they do.
“It’s nice you all get together”
Her: We talk about their sister who is three. She just got adopted. It’s an open adoption and in this open adoption they get pictures of her, and I don’t. They show them to me when we visit. We will spend our visit discussing the pictures. They’re a good conversation piece.
The couple who adopted her lives in the country. Before the adoption went through, they were nice enough to let me come out for home visits. After we had gotten acquainted. They have a nice big yard for her to play in, with one of those big wooden swing-sets, a pool and animals. She’s happy Shelley and that’s all that matters. As her voice cracked tears streamed down my face just like they are right now.
“I’m glad she’s happy”
Her: You want to know something? Some days I take a drive out where she lives. If she’s playing outside, I pull over and watch her. I daydream about getting out of my car, walking up into the field, stand there and see if she sees me. I wonder if she would come running yelling “mommy” Mommy” and remember who I am. I come back to reality. I have multiple addictions and have for years, I just can’t do it.
I nodded my head and told her crying, Thank you for sharing not only a painful but dark-side of your life with me, also for giving me a different perspective to an Open Adoption.
Towards the end of my Foster-Care Class, the teacher was on the subject of Open Adoption and asked the class “Could you be a part of one”?
I raised my hand and told her and the class the same exact encounter I had with this woman “yes I wouldn’t have made a life changing decision to be a Foster Parent without this mother of a child who forfeited her “happiness” for a lifetime of heartache and what ifs.
Do you remember back in April when I wrote this post? Please take a minute to read so you can catch up on this resident of mine. I like to refer to as “Emmet Brown”. You know “Doc” from Back To The Future”? The reason I have named this resident after “doc” is because of privacy laws, which is crucial in the medical field. I also want you to be able to imagine her, not just her looks but demeanor also.
Our facility is one level. I don’t know the square foot right off-hand. It is however a square, that goes in a circle. This way residents know where they’re going. The middle of the wall is lined with a thick wooden rail in case the residents need them for guidance, since they are without site or if they need a little support for balance.
“Emmet”used to do her laps (exercise) around the hall wearing her headphones with these Giant, black, circled sunglasses, singing Belinda Carlisle “Circle In The Sand” it goes something like this.
Sundown all around
Walking thru the summer’s end
Waves crash baby, don’t look back
I won’t walk away again
Oh, baby, anywhere you go,
We are bound together
I begin, baby, where you end
Some things are forever!
Circle in the sand
‘Round and ’round
Never ending love is what we’ve found
And you complete the heart of me
Our love is all we need
Circle in the sand
Cold wind, tide move in
Shiver in the salty air
Day breaks, my heart aches
I will wait for you right here.
Oh, baby when you look for me
Can you see forever?
I begin baby, where you end
We belong together
Circle in the sand
‘Round and ’round
Rising of the moon as the sun goes down
And you complete the heart of me
Our love is all we need
Circle in the sand
Circle in the sand
Baby can you hear me?
Every time she sang the round and round part she would actually circle round in round. She’s a lover of music. I know this because of the fourteen years I have been there. I bet you would never guess that she used to teach piano, she has her bachelors in music, she plays the piano by ear, and if you want to know a name of song, person, or group who sings it just ask, nine times out of ten she can tell you. This is phenomenal, at least to me? We have more Helen Keller stories.
I don’t want to take anything away from Keller but did you know her teacher Johanna “Anne” Sullivan? Who also was legally blind? She contracted trachoma a highly infectious eye infection, when she was eight years old which left her blind without reading or writing skills. Her mother also died around this same time and her father abandoned her because he felt he could not raise her and her brother on her own. They were sent to an almshouse in Tewksbury Massachusetts, her brother suffered from a debilitating hip ailment and died as well. She remained at Tewksbury for four years. She had eye operations that offered relief for her eye pain but proved ineffective. I-am not going to plagiarise the whole story. I just want to give you the background of another phenomenal person who walked a step behind, read the story when you get time. I read it with another resident of mine a few nights ago. We both were taken back by what we didn’t know about Anne.
The home has offered me more than a laugh and I hope I gave you that clarity in this post, Also a part of the world that you miss and I don’t. Have you not felt that way in your life? Where you asked yourself why can’t everyone experience this?
The other day in Emmets room giving her, her medicine she informs me she is “Pissed” I do a double take because she is not a social person except to the voices in her head.
Me: Why are you “Pissed”
Emmet: I called Recycled Records to ask him when Charles Hardin Holley (Also known as Buddy) Birthday was? He told me an a firm voice, “I don’t know call your local library and ask them”
Me: Did you call the local library
Emmet: I called the operator and she didn’t know the number to the “local library” nor did she know when Holley’s Birthday was…
Me: Emmet what made you think of this question
Emmett: I was listening to his song “Think It Over” and starting thinking over his Birthday….
I always ask questions. You learn from them. My residents have taught me things I didn’t know or thought about and these things I will take with me and not forget because of the way they tell the story.
Charles Hardin Holley (September 7, 1936 – February 3, 1959)
Johanna “Anne” Mansfield Sullivan Macy (April 14, 1866 – October 20, 1936) She died holding Keller’s hand. What started out as a “Job” being a teacher ended in a life long friendship…
I realize your a smoker and know when you try to quit you don’t like me
In order to keep the flame burning I choose not to draw my sword
I have a confession
I don’t think you know how hard I laugh
when you walk out on the deck at 3:00am
To burn one up in your undies!