Laughing To The Grave Part 2

Writing on my blog has not been easy lately. I’m not going to lie. I look around at some of your post, and think my God, where can I get a blog like them… It’s not the size, I envy. It’s your writing style, your format, your flow, pictures, fonts, and the time that looks like you put into your blog. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t sit at the table with my elbow on it, leaning against my hand, for hours. It just makes me more aware of what and how I write. My cohort told me the other night.

“When it comes down to it, what matters is that people understand what you’re trying to say”

A few things have been keeping my family down in the dumps, my husband and I mainly. I won’t go into it too much, because you heard it all before. I would rather make us both laugh, how bout it?

A few weeks ago, Emmet was under the weather, and just not acting normal. My supervisor asked me to take her into the Emergency Room. They were getting her checked in, asking her questions about who, what, when, where, and why.

“Where is it, that you live?”

Emmet: The Jerry Kline Home For The Blind

“What Did you say”

Emmet: She then, slowly, broke-down all the words, and repeated herself

“Ok”

Emmet: busted out singing the nursery rhyme “Three Blind mice”

The same night, my husband and I were getting ready to go to bed. He had stepped out of our room for just a few minutes. I had a pill to take in my hand and of course dropped it. I was in-between the bed and the wall, on all fours, running my hand across the floor, trying to find that tiny thing.My husband walked backed in the room while I was on the hunt. He yells my name like he lost me in a crowd at a carnival. He scared the crap out of me. I pop up and say “What the hell, is going on”

Him: I did not see you, I thought the rapture had taken place and the lord took you instead of me…

My son and I got out-of-town, a few weeks ago. We went to a graduation. It was down by my home-town. On our way back home, we stopped in to see an old friend. Gabe asked them if we could use their bathroom. I went with him, because I had to go as well. He tripped over a toy and put his hand through a hole, which you could tell had been there already. He looks up at me, motions me to come in closer, when I get face to face with him, he looks around and back again at me.

Mom: I think their house is ripping apart!

I know you’re aware we follow Jesus, since my son was born I have let him know he can talk to him anytime. It does not matter where you’re, what you’re doing, it’s as simple as talking to me. The other day he found a spider in our house. He was squatted down, following it around. He motioned me to come look at it and I did. I grabbed a shoe and smashed it!

Gabe: JESUS, LOOK OUT!

Hanging On To My family By A Thread

This morning hasn’t started off good. I had made an appointment, a  month ago, for today. I thought it was for ten-o-clock but it was for nine-o-clock, which is weird, Gabe starts school around then. This was the second time, they have re-scheduled me. The receptionist called me at nine, asking if I was there?  I said no, I thought it was at ten? She shuffled through her papers while continuing to say hmm, “no, my Calendar says nine” (swallowing crow) I said: it’s my fault and I’m nowhere near the office, I’m sorry. I talked to my mom a bit about the situation. She told me to start writing things down, and how there is an app, that will remind you, of the appointments you have.

It’s all well in good, but writing things down is a downfall of mine. I hung up the phone and checked the weather. I noticed one of the anchor ladies, on the news site. Stacey Skrysak. My mother had posted this post of her’s, on my fb page, a while back ago. It has been my favorite piece of writing ever since.

My eye’s filled up this morning with tears as I read her post this morning. I thought about having to wait another month to get Ativan for my panic-attacks. They come on like a deer jumping out in front of your  car. I do have some daily medication, it don’t always cut it. It helps but not fully.

They started over a year ago.

One night, around three, I woke up to what felt like a water hose of adrenaline filling up my body. I shot STRAIGHT UP into a sitting position and gasped for air, slid out of bed, and into the bathroom. Where I noticed my melons shaking back and forth with every beat of my heart. I thought about taking a Xanax that belonged to my husband. I stared at them thinking about the knowledge I knew. With being a nurses aid. My heart was going to need medical assistance and the hospital would not like to hear that I took medication that was not mine.

I woke up my husband and told him he would have to stay with our son. I called the ambulance to take me to the emergency room. He hated doing such, but all in all this is why we have each other. I told him to take him to school in the morning and he could meet me afterwards.

When the ambulance picked me up. I walked out and climbed into the back and laid on the stretcher. The guy started to put in a Iv. He told me if  my heart rate did not slow down he was going to be ordered to give me a medicine, that basically stops the heart for a second. He did not want to have to use it on the ambulance but would if he had too. He asked me some questions about my life. I was able to get comfortable with him. I asked if he had seen this happen with a lot patients? “all the time” we got to the hospital and they had a room waiting for me and started asking me questions.

Had I taken illegal drugs?

Did I take anything at all?

I told them a Sudafed, actually two within that day.

If you took anything illegal, you can tell us, we won’t turn you in?

No, I did not take any drugs!

The doctor came in and ordered medicine that would drip slow. He thought it may help bring down my heart-rate and if he could bring it down. He could see more about what was going on.

I laid there in that one moment, thinking this could be the beginning to the end of my life.

Who knows, what they would tell me?

I’ve had a heart problem before.

Where there is one rat there are a hundred more you don’t see.

What about my husband, my son, my dad, my mom, how will they get through it?

I’ve been in the shallow part of water when it comes to loosing a child

After placing my feet on dry land, I changed.

In one blink of one eye

I lost a family of four. I lost a piece of my husband, my sons Will and Gabe, I lost half of myself, and any thought that life, would last into our thirties, forties, fifties, sixties, seventies, and so on. I lost being grateful, for my family, when hearing of another families misfortune. Because just as you thank God it wasn’t your son or your daughter. You’re  thinking to soon. I’m thankful every second, every minute, of every hour for the life with my family.

The fear I have, isn’t the dying part. It’s the loss, the grief, one would have to feel. It’s the hollowness in a room filled with furniture, clothes, and toys. The silence when all you want to hear is crying. The passerby’s you don’t know but wish you did, so they would stop for a second, while you try to wrap your head around what had happened. It’s the guilt and the choices you made before the boom. It’s the guilt that your gone and I’m here. It’s the triggers, like missing an appointment to the psychiatrist.

The other day I was reading another writers post on loss. Her words as a survivor touched my heart.  “I have to keep living and loving because they can’t. And it breaks my heart. And it mends it too”

 

 

 

Nosy

Some years back, we had a male resident at my present job. He was visually impaired, stood about 5 ‘1, thin, and buzzed light brown hair. His room had nothing on the walls, dresser, or bed. He hung around one lady at the home. Once a week a man my age now, would take him out to eat. When doing my med 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. One because he was as still as someone with a Bee on the end of their nose and secondly because I’m nosy.

He started to pray

“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 Until 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. 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.

Update

Longstockings, is in her mid forties. Years ago she developed a rare brain disease. The disease has affected her eyes, speech, and walking.  It’s not a fatal disease but it has come with neurological problems.

You can’t walk past her room without her calling out your name to either show you some move she learned in exercise or to complain about the argument her and her mother had.

Her parents are involved in our home activities. Her mom helps the activity director  with the residents when taking them to the Muni, fundraisers, Special Olympics, and she always helps me organize Longstockings room

Her siblings that live in our town will also show up to our chili supper, Christmas party, and once in a great moon to fix or give her something.

This particular brother that she had on the phone the other night lives In another state. He don’t get in as much as the others, however he will call, write, and send updated pictures to her.

He did make it to the home. He brought his wife and kids. They played a few  games in then went out for pizza!

 

The Be Thankful Challenge

IMG_1086

Raphaela, has nominated me for the Be Thankful Challenge. Thank you for this honor.

Challenge Rules

Share this image in your blog post

  • Write about five people in your life you are thankful for
  • Write about five things in 2015 that you are thankful for
  • Spread the love and challenge five other blogs to take part

Five people in my life that I’m thankful for.

*My husband Steve, he gave me my son and also his ears. I have told him more than one dark secret. He listens like a hunter hunting a deer.  I am thankful he still here.

* My son, he has brought the joy to my life. I blurt out in song all the time when we’re home, tonight he is under the weather. I was giving him cough medicine while singing “a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down the medicine go down the medicine go down” Mom, I’m tired of you singing all the time. I let out a wine and made a sad face. Mom, I still love you, I just don’t feel like hearing you sing right now…

*My mom Linda, she has taught me how to look inside myself and others. “It’s who we are there that counts” this may sound a bit off the bunny trail… I have this head full of hair, it is black, thick, kinky, course, and grows out instead of down. Years ago before developing vitiligo (which turns the skin milky white I’m one hundred percent covered now) people would refer to me as mixed with black and white. We lived in small towns during my childhood. I got the worst of one world. I won’t go into it because I have already. I’m just trying to help you understand Linda. I suppose living in the small town we do now people see my hair and may think I have something in me. My son the other day came home and told me “I was not his mom because he was white and I’m black” I told him that I was not black and changed the subject. This brought back triggers of being younger. I  didn’t want to make my thoughts his thoughts. I called my mom later and she said you just tell him “so what it does not matter what color I’m” I forget myself at times that it don’t matter if people think this. The only reason it hurt me is because of my past. I’m thankful that she reminds of the person I’m instead of labels people put on me.

* For readers on this platform who have encouraged me to continue writing and told me it’s okay to write whatever you want. You don’t have to have a plan. Write about what happened during your day, whats going on right now, or what Gabe says “readers love to hear about what kids say” These comments have taken the pressure off, given me fuel to write, and not feel as though I need to impress the world.

*For my dad, he is a believer and has pushed me all through life. He never lets me talk down to myself. When I did he would build me up. I took a class three years ago out at the community college. I had to gather lots of information from my past because I needed proof to get the help they offered for my organization skills. It brought me back to who I let people believe I was then. I made several calls to him during this class because of the nice comments the teachers would make about my writing. I was always shocked because I had never had anyone else comment on my work  or what I put into it, except for him. At the end of the class she pulled me aside and told me she had enjoyed reading my work. She wanted to publish  one of my papers into a college art book. I decided against it because it had to go through a board and they had the last decision. I did not want to take the chance of having my balloon popped. The gesture was enough. When I told my dad, I cried because of everything I went through how kids treated and talked about me. My dad said “they were kids then Shelley they are not the same people anymore you still think people think that way about you and they don’t” he also said I had a hidden talent and I should continue to write. Here I-am on my two-year anniversary!

Five Things I am grateful for

*Ears for those who listen

*Joy during grief

*Wisdom for the long haul

*Support when the going gets rough

*Love to light the way

I nominate the following to take part in the challenge

1. Raspberry Daydreams

2. TheLoneRose

3. My Weary Mind

4. Dear lily June

5. smiling Notes

I wrote

The last post  to build more story, Does anyone else use this method?

It was hard trying to keep some sort of normalcy for Gabe while “Saltine Cracker” was fighting for his life. My friend Audra, named her, her first name. We finished her middle and last. We bought her at Pet Smart when she was Ten weeks old. She had light green feathers, two or three red feathers under her right-wing, a black tail, with a black cap head and a sweet disposition. Gabe ruffled those green feathers of hers one to many times. Towards the end of her life if she was out of her cage. She enjoyed sitting by him and watching his every move. When he “tried” to pick her up she would peck him! She loved my husband because he was the one who held her, cleaned her cage, and fed her. Steven acted like he always does during sad times. The middle wrinkle on his forehead gets bigger, his face looks clammy, he shuts down, and always look as if he’s about to flee the scene. When I asked him if he was okay he said he was feeling stressed out and he hated to see Saltine die.

When calling my mom for comfort, she asked me if we were taking care of the bird. She said when she was here last the bird was picking at itself. First off, that is what birds do, it’s called Preening. Lets just say when my moms bird died it had lost all its feathers. Saltine was loaded to the gills with feathers! My parents did not like the bird. They said it was the source for Gave and I always being sick.

My friend Audra had lost her cat the night before, my friend Nico lost her gecko, minutes before my bird died. I felt uncanny about how close together they all died and wondered if something was in the air. I mentioned my thoughts to Steve, he didn’t say much. I have to watch my thoughts. My anxiety gets the best of me. This last year I have had panic attacks. I TAKE medicine for them but it doesn’t ALWAYS help. I have heard if a bird drops dead it is usually the sign of a gas leak. At one point during this turmoil I just knew the air in our home was looking smokey, everything around me was blurry, and my stomach was bilious. I couldn’t tell you what snapped me out of it, maybe the medicine?

I had also taken a pregnancy test this same night and we found it negative. We have been trying for another baby for about three years now and haven’t had any news. We are not devastated just disappointed. It’s hard to believe the sun is going down on this part of my life.

Stay tuned

The Oldsmobile

Childhood

Being  lean in money my dad bought a car to get him from “Point A to Point B”

The olds did just this for my dad

Today it holds a bittersweet memory

The car was a lighter brown and long like the long hours my dad worked to support his family on his own

There were four doors only three worked

A reminder of being the family of three we were

The driver side mirror was shattered spider webbed out where you could see my dads broken reflection

Symbolic to all the years he drove around single with a broken heart

The passage side door we all climbed in

Was heavy like the love that my brother and I carry for our hero of a dad

The brownish red interior of the car hung low

like the low times we were having in our lives

The smell of smoke

Fastfood

Filled the air

Like the love my dad poured out to and fro

To form a concrete foundation

To anchor down what we did have

The Car always moved

Slow at first

A reminder

That forward we go but slowly