Our office is about to embark on a relocation...a whopping three blocks away. Distance doesn't really matter when you move, does it? Any moving sucks.
Unlike the office move I had to do pretty much by myself at my previous company, the firm is flying out no less than a dozen people to assist. Some of these people are on the office admin side and some are on the technology side. They started arriving today.
Our first visitor is with the VoIP phone company that we use. He showed up, the receptionist instant messaged me to let me know he was here and I went out and introduced myself. We chit chatted and then I took him over to the new building, thinking the project manager was there. He wasn't. So we walked back in the rain. Upon our arrival at the old office, we decided to set him up in the conference room so he could get some work done while waiting for the project manager to show up.
He started stammering on and on about our proxies and firewalls (the software/hardware that controls your ability to reach the internet) and how his laptop is new and had never been in one of our offices. Could I go ask one of the guys in IT what the proxy settings are so he could remote into his company's network?
Did you read that last sentence carefully?
Being the effective (!) communicator that I am, I reiterated his request back to him to be sure we were on the same page.
He replied, "Yes, just go ask one of the guys in IT for the utility or what the proxy settings are. They'll know what I'm talking about. Just ask one of the guys in IT."
I stood there looking at him (again with the "you just arrived here from Mars look") and said:
"I AM the guy in IT."
3.14.2007
Dad Update
My mom called to tell me that my dad made it through the six hour surgery with flying colors. There was no evidence that the cancer had spread beyond the prostate, but we'll know for sure when we get the pathology results.
Big sigh of relief...
Big sigh of relief...
3.13.2007
So You Work With Computers Part II
It was decided that the tax department, due to their stationary nature and the kind of detail work they do, should have 19" monitors to supplement their puny laptop displays. Great idea, although it took some convincing on my part to get them to see that while they would give up desk space, they would gain "real estate" and not need as much desk space.
The displays finally show up and I set about installing them and giving the users orientation. Let's keep in mind here that this is to supplement the laptop display. Laptops are placed in a docking station, where all the cords and such plug into (including the monitor), so it's very simple, really.
After giving this particular user an orientation to his new set up, he turns to me and says:
"So, if I don't have my laptop, will the monitor and keyboard still work?"
I look at him like he's just dropped in from Mars. The trip from outerspace obviously deprived him of oxygen required for coherent thinking.
After a full minute of me staring at him like the village idiot that he is, he says "Oh, I guess not, huh?"
Ya think?
The displays finally show up and I set about installing them and giving the users orientation. Let's keep in mind here that this is to supplement the laptop display. Laptops are placed in a docking station, where all the cords and such plug into (including the monitor), so it's very simple, really.
After giving this particular user an orientation to his new set up, he turns to me and says:
"So, if I don't have my laptop, will the monitor and keyboard still work?"
I look at him like he's just dropped in from Mars. The trip from outerspace obviously deprived him of oxygen required for coherent thinking.
After a full minute of me staring at him like the village idiot that he is, he says "Oh, I guess not, huh?"
Ya think?
3.07.2007
Ok, ok...I'm still here!
Sorry about the lack of posting lately. I even had a nice one started and somehow it disappeared. Before I get too far into this latest missive, can someone PLEASE tell my why the archive section over there on the right says 2006? And the wrong month no less? I can't figure it out. Maybe it's another victim of the early Daylight Saving Time that's been forced upon us. Anyway...
What have I been up to? Let's see... hubby miraculously managed to not be included in the boat's latest six week underway/trip, so it's togetherness to the nth degree for the next two months or so. It's been nice having him home, especially last week when I was so sick I thought I was going to drown in my own mucus. Lovely thought, no? He came back home February 16th and as of that date had spent a whopping 8 days home the whole year. It's a nice change, but now we are trying to find a hobby or something to do together and my DVR is getting overloaded. And no, sex is not a hobby, as much as he may disagree.
Sunday my father departs for Seattle to go back to the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center where he will be undergoing a prostatectomy that Tuesday. But this isn't your regular run of the mill surgery, noooo...this is cutting edge medicine done with a robot! The surgery should take approximately 6 hours due to the nerve sparing aspect of it. That's a lot of time on the table, but if it allows the patient to return to normal function, I suspect it will be worth it. Barring complications, he should be back in the 'aina the following Wednesday to start his month long recovery. Keep him in your thoughts if you would.
As you can see life has been rather uneventful lately. We're trying to figure out when our summer trip to the mainland will be and what Cali spots we'll be stopping at on the way to Nebraska and on the way back to Hawaii. Unfortunately, due to scheduling conflicts with the boat's schedule and my stepdaughter's chock-full summer, it's looking like August this year and Nebraska in August is hotter than Dante's fourth circle of hell, so I'm not overly thrilled.
What have I been up to? Let's see... hubby miraculously managed to not be included in the boat's latest six week underway/trip, so it's togetherness to the nth degree for the next two months or so. It's been nice having him home, especially last week when I was so sick I thought I was going to drown in my own mucus. Lovely thought, no? He came back home February 16th and as of that date had spent a whopping 8 days home the whole year. It's a nice change, but now we are trying to find a hobby or something to do together and my DVR is getting overloaded. And no, sex is not a hobby, as much as he may disagree.
Sunday my father departs for Seattle to go back to the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center where he will be undergoing a prostatectomy that Tuesday. But this isn't your regular run of the mill surgery, noooo...this is cutting edge medicine done with a robot! The surgery should take approximately 6 hours due to the nerve sparing aspect of it. That's a lot of time on the table, but if it allows the patient to return to normal function, I suspect it will be worth it. Barring complications, he should be back in the 'aina the following Wednesday to start his month long recovery. Keep him in your thoughts if you would.
As you can see life has been rather uneventful lately. We're trying to figure out when our summer trip to the mainland will be and what Cali spots we'll be stopping at on the way to Nebraska and on the way back to Hawaii. Unfortunately, due to scheduling conflicts with the boat's schedule and my stepdaughter's chock-full summer, it's looking like August this year and Nebraska in August is hotter than Dante's fourth circle of hell, so I'm not overly thrilled.
2.15.2007
Everything Ends
Last night marked the end of my journey with "Six Feet Under." For those of you who have been living under a rock or in a coma for the last six years, 6FU was a series on HBO that followed the Fisher family. The Fishers are Funeral Directors. Almost every episode started with a death that would end up at their doors. There was all kinds of other drama for the family - relationships, deaths of their loved ones, life decisions, etc., but there was this constant presence of death in their lives. Not to mention the fallout of growing up in a funeral home.
Let me back up a minute here. After my father was diagnosed with what we thought was metastasized prostate cancer, I started preparing myself for his untimely demise. I became a little obsessed with death on some level and remembered hearing about a series called "Dead Like Me." This was shortly after starting my Netflix subscription, so I did a search and read the synopsis. Through the marvel of technology it began arriving at my door a short time later. I am a dark person by nature, with a dry sense of humor and a well-honed edge of sarcasm. I like dark and quirky comedies and "DLM" fit the bill wonderfully. It was about an 18 year old girl who dies unexpectedly and becomes a Grim Reaper - someone who has to escort other people through death to the other side. I'm going to assume that you clicked on the link above and read the synopsis, so I don't have to fill you in here.
In an effort to make sense of - and possibly make peace with - my own mortality and the mortality of those around me, I moved on to 6FU after finishing DLM. Now, I'm not going to sit here like some weirdo and tell you these shows changed my life, but they kind of did. It was like being faced with death presented with humor and a certain practicality has allowed me to come to terms with it. I'm not saying I'm ok with death. I'm not - it sucks. But it's part of life and a commonality we all share, some sooner than others.
Somehow or another this preoccupation with death, not the sensationalized mass murder of a slasher film or video game, but the quiet inevitability of it has made me a bit more cognizant of how I live my life. Everything ends, according to the aptly named soundtrack for 6FU, and even if I'm halfway there, I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.
And put some comedies in my Netflix queue.
Let me back up a minute here. After my father was diagnosed with what we thought was metastasized prostate cancer, I started preparing myself for his untimely demise. I became a little obsessed with death on some level and remembered hearing about a series called "Dead Like Me." This was shortly after starting my Netflix subscription, so I did a search and read the synopsis. Through the marvel of technology it began arriving at my door a short time later. I am a dark person by nature, with a dry sense of humor and a well-honed edge of sarcasm. I like dark and quirky comedies and "DLM" fit the bill wonderfully. It was about an 18 year old girl who dies unexpectedly and becomes a Grim Reaper - someone who has to escort other people through death to the other side. I'm going to assume that you clicked on the link above and read the synopsis, so I don't have to fill you in here.
In an effort to make sense of - and possibly make peace with - my own mortality and the mortality of those around me, I moved on to 6FU after finishing DLM. Now, I'm not going to sit here like some weirdo and tell you these shows changed my life, but they kind of did. It was like being faced with death presented with humor and a certain practicality has allowed me to come to terms with it. I'm not saying I'm ok with death. I'm not - it sucks. But it's part of life and a commonality we all share, some sooner than others.
Somehow or another this preoccupation with death, not the sensationalized mass murder of a slasher film or video game, but the quiet inevitability of it has made me a bit more cognizant of how I live my life. Everything ends, according to the aptly named soundtrack for 6FU, and even if I'm halfway there, I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts.
And put some comedies in my Netflix queue.
2.06.2007
Self-Flagellation As A Pastime Activity
I watch a lot of movies. I watch a lot of tv on dvd because I like watching stuff all bunched up together. I watch too much tv, I admit. Last night I couldn't sleep so I watched The Da Vinci Code. This was the second time I attempted to watch this movie...this time I actually made it through to the end. The book was better, but I digress.
I'm sitting there watching that creepy monk-dude Silas beat the sh!t out of himself with a cat o'nine tails or whatever it is and thinking "Man, that's stupid." Today as I was beating myself up about something (as I often do, more than once a day) and I realized I was a practitioner of that creepy ritual. Not physically, of course, but mentally. Man, that's stupid.
Now, I know we all do this from time to time, but I have a highly specialized habit of setting expectations way too high just so I can come up short and beat myself up about it. I also like to think for other people so they can help me. By this I mean I somehow astrally project myself into someone else's mind and find all the horrible things they think about me - how I look, how I act, how I manifest some weird personal tic. Why beat up myself by myself. I can get someone else in on the action, too. It's a party!
Let's take roll call, shall we, of the top contenders in the litany of self-flagellation:
I'm fat.
I'm mean.
I'm impatient.
I'm lazy.
I'm stupid.
I'm not emotionally available.
I've been having "a long talk with Self" as my dear friend calls it and decided that after 35 years, it's time to break this habit. These tapes, as my therapist calls them, are worn out and have been unpopular for quite some time now. So unpopular, in fact, they are actually on vinyl.
The New Philosophy
This brings us to HT's new philosophy for the second half of this lifetime program (not to be confused with programs on Lifetime: TV for Women in Constant Distress): The "More Often Than Not" philosophy. In this philosophy, if I am doing something good for myself more often than not, I'm not allowed to beat myself up about it. For instance:
I'm fat : Well, guess what, lady, you're not the only one and you didn't get here overnight. So as long as you are eating healthy and exercising more often than not, you don't get to crap on yourself about this anymore.
I'm mean: Yeah, well, we all have our moments. As long as they are just moments and not a steady stream of anti-social outward behavior, you're not that bad.
You get the drift.
This does lead me to wonder what I am going to do with all the extra time on my hands now that I can't engage in self-flagellation as a pastime activity.
I'm sitting there watching that creepy monk-dude Silas beat the sh!t out of himself with a cat o'nine tails or whatever it is and thinking "Man, that's stupid." Today as I was beating myself up about something (as I often do, more than once a day) and I realized I was a practitioner of that creepy ritual. Not physically, of course, but mentally. Man, that's stupid.
Now, I know we all do this from time to time, but I have a highly specialized habit of setting expectations way too high just so I can come up short and beat myself up about it. I also like to think for other people so they can help me. By this I mean I somehow astrally project myself into someone else's mind and find all the horrible things they think about me - how I look, how I act, how I manifest some weird personal tic. Why beat up myself by myself. I can get someone else in on the action, too. It's a party!
Let's take roll call, shall we, of the top contenders in the litany of self-flagellation:
I'm fat.
I'm mean.
I'm impatient.
I'm lazy.
I'm stupid.
I'm not emotionally available.
I've been having "a long talk with Self" as my dear friend calls it and decided that after 35 years, it's time to break this habit. These tapes, as my therapist calls them, are worn out and have been unpopular for quite some time now. So unpopular, in fact, they are actually on vinyl.
The New Philosophy
This brings us to HT's new philosophy for the second half of this lifetime program (not to be confused with programs on Lifetime: TV for Women in Constant Distress): The "More Often Than Not" philosophy. In this philosophy, if I am doing something good for myself more often than not, I'm not allowed to beat myself up about it. For instance:
I'm fat : Well, guess what, lady, you're not the only one and you didn't get here overnight. So as long as you are eating healthy and exercising more often than not, you don't get to crap on yourself about this anymore.
I'm mean: Yeah, well, we all have our moments. As long as they are just moments and not a steady stream of anti-social outward behavior, you're not that bad.
You get the drift.
This does lead me to wonder what I am going to do with all the extra time on my hands now that I can't engage in self-flagellation as a pastime activity.
2.05.2007
So You Work With Computers
This is what people say when I tell them what I do. Yes, I work with computers...or should I say I work ON computers. But that isn't what my job is really about. And sometimes I wonder if I have any business at all in this career field.
For those of you playing the home version, I work in Technology Support. Sounds like I support technology, doesn't it? No, I support people who, in many cases, have no business getting close to anything more complex than a pocket calculator. I really try very hard not to be that stereotypical support person...the guy on SNL that spits technology gobbeldygook at you for two minutes then gets irritated by the blank look on your face and demands you "mmmoooooove." I understand you all don't have a background in technology and for some of you, it's a new and scary world of things you can't/won't/don't understand. I really do try to hold on to that, but sometimes it's very hard.
My patience is especially thin when people are given explicit direction and decide to take the complete opposite path anyway. Not only do they have no remorse for what they've done (practically on purpose), but have little patience when the fix for their ill-conceived problem takes more than 30 seconds.
The company I work for (we'll call them XYZ Co.) uses Instant Messenging as a big part of communication. It's great because you don't have to stop what you are doing to answer the phone. You can continue playing solitaire and surfing stock prices while you are helping a customer. (I don't do that mind you, but I know there are those out there that do.) My company is big on IM etiquette, and etiquette in general, so for the most part, people check to see if you have a moment before they spend half an hour typing out a monologue of their most recent problem at at whopping 6 w.p.m. I'm sure I'll have a rant on that some other time. Movin' on...
XYZ is in the tax preparation business (among other business lines) and instead of bothering the people who have to work on client-related issues that help put food on the table and Luis Vutton bags on our arms, they have graciously offered to reimburse us for the cost of tax preparation software. They sent out an email to everyone stating that along with the explicit instruction that the aformentioned tax prep software IS NOT TO BE LOADED ONTO COMPANY COMPUTERS. This is because we (not me personally, but the big dudes higher up and farther away) build the set of programs that are loaded onto the PCs and rigorously test them to ensure they all play well together. Introducing something new and untested into that controlled environment is not recommended and is called breaking the loadset. This is bad. Very bad.
User: "Hi, HT."
Me: "Hi, User."
User: "I got the blue screen this morning."
For those of who somehow have not had the pleasure of having a Windows-based operating system, the user is referring to the BSOD - Blue Screen of Death. You get this when there is something horribly and irreparably wrong with your computer. Or whenever it feels like giving you a mild cardiac event for absolutely no reason at all.
Me: "Sorry to hear that. Have there been any changes to your system lately?"
User: "No."
I then spend the time explaining to User how to help me help her by capturing the exact message the BSOD is giving her instead of it rebooting seemingly inexplicably.
User: "Oh, I installed ________ (insert favorite tax preparation software du jour here). Do you think that might be the problem?"
This means User read the memo that outlined the reimbursement policy, probably figured out the reimbursement code for her expense report and chose to ignore the part that said DO NOT LOAD SOFTWARE ONTO YOUR COMPANY COMPUTER.
*sigh*
For those of you playing the home version, I work in Technology Support. Sounds like I support technology, doesn't it? No, I support people who, in many cases, have no business getting close to anything more complex than a pocket calculator. I really try very hard not to be that stereotypical support person...the guy on SNL that spits technology gobbeldygook at you for two minutes then gets irritated by the blank look on your face and demands you "mmmoooooove." I understand you all don't have a background in technology and for some of you, it's a new and scary world of things you can't/won't/don't understand. I really do try to hold on to that, but sometimes it's very hard.
My patience is especially thin when people are given explicit direction and decide to take the complete opposite path anyway. Not only do they have no remorse for what they've done (practically on purpose), but have little patience when the fix for their ill-conceived problem takes more than 30 seconds.
The company I work for (we'll call them XYZ Co.) uses Instant Messenging as a big part of communication. It's great because you don't have to stop what you are doing to answer the phone. You can continue playing solitaire and surfing stock prices while you are helping a customer. (I don't do that mind you, but I know there are those out there that do.) My company is big on IM etiquette, and etiquette in general, so for the most part, people check to see if you have a moment before they spend half an hour typing out a monologue of their most recent problem at at whopping 6 w.p.m. I'm sure I'll have a rant on that some other time. Movin' on...
XYZ is in the tax preparation business (among other business lines) and instead of bothering the people who have to work on client-related issues that help put food on the table and Luis Vutton bags on our arms, they have graciously offered to reimburse us for the cost of tax preparation software. They sent out an email to everyone stating that along with the explicit instruction that the aformentioned tax prep software IS NOT TO BE LOADED ONTO COMPANY COMPUTERS. This is because we (not me personally, but the big dudes higher up and farther away) build the set of programs that are loaded onto the PCs and rigorously test them to ensure they all play well together. Introducing something new and untested into that controlled environment is not recommended and is called breaking the loadset. This is bad. Very bad.
User: "Hi, HT."
Me: "Hi, User."
User: "I got the blue screen this morning."
For those of who somehow have not had the pleasure of having a Windows-based operating system, the user is referring to the BSOD - Blue Screen of Death. You get this when there is something horribly and irreparably wrong with your computer. Or whenever it feels like giving you a mild cardiac event for absolutely no reason at all.
Me: "Sorry to hear that. Have there been any changes to your system lately?"
User: "No."
I then spend the time explaining to User how to help me help her by capturing the exact message the BSOD is giving her instead of it rebooting seemingly inexplicably.
User: "Oh, I installed ________ (insert favorite tax preparation software du jour here). Do you think that might be the problem?"
This means User read the memo that outlined the reimbursement policy, probably figured out the reimbursement code for her expense report and chose to ignore the part that said DO NOT LOAD SOFTWARE ONTO YOUR COMPANY COMPUTER.
*sigh*
2.04.2007
Antwone Fisher
I caught this movie on cable tonight. I vaguely remember reading the book before the movie came out in theaters. I’ve seen it a few times before, but it’s been long enough that this time I saw it with a fresh perspective. I’d forgotten how much I like it. It is based on a true story. It takes place in one of my favorite cities (San Diego) and centers around a young man in the Navy. I was in the Navy once. Sometimes I miss it…I miss the camaraderie, the security and the sense that I was doing something useful. Plus it has Denzel Washington in it and I would watch Denzel read the Cleveland Yellow Pages.
Anyway, this young man had a really hard life before joining the Navy. He was abandoned by his mother, abused by his foster parents and eventually thrown out on the streets to fend for himself. That’s when he joined the Navy. But his past, and his inability to come to terms with it, causes anger issues, which cause him to be faced with the possibility of being thrown out of the Navy. He works through those problems with the help of a psychiatrist (Denzel), who urges him to go find his family. He does…and faces the people who abused him and finds the mother who abandoned him. He also finds a large extended family who welcomes him with open arms and he finally feels like he belongs.
This post isn’t a movie review…I’m getting to my point.
He goes back to the psychiatrist to tell him that he found his mother. He says “I forgive her, but if I never see her again…”
When all hell broke loose with my father’s health, I had been in the middle of dealing with my (lack of) relationship with my mother. We have a bad past with things that happened that I thought I could never forgive her for. People would tell me “You can’t be angry with her, she did the best she could do at the time.” Bull. I felt she purposely did what she did to be hurtful and vindictive. I couldn’t let go.
Then I faced the possibility of losing one of the most important people in my life. The person who took me out of that bad environment and gave me the tools to live a better life. The person I’d looked up to for as long as I could remember. Suddenly, my biological mother was no longer important.
She is missing out. She doesn’t know the person I’ve become and she never will. She’s chosen to have our relationship end up this way. I am a good person and her life is emptier for not knowing me.
I forgive her, but if I never see her again…
Anyway, this young man had a really hard life before joining the Navy. He was abandoned by his mother, abused by his foster parents and eventually thrown out on the streets to fend for himself. That’s when he joined the Navy. But his past, and his inability to come to terms with it, causes anger issues, which cause him to be faced with the possibility of being thrown out of the Navy. He works through those problems with the help of a psychiatrist (Denzel), who urges him to go find his family. He does…and faces the people who abused him and finds the mother who abandoned him. He also finds a large extended family who welcomes him with open arms and he finally feels like he belongs.
This post isn’t a movie review…I’m getting to my point.
He goes back to the psychiatrist to tell him that he found his mother. He says “I forgive her, but if I never see her again…”
When all hell broke loose with my father’s health, I had been in the middle of dealing with my (lack of) relationship with my mother. We have a bad past with things that happened that I thought I could never forgive her for. People would tell me “You can’t be angry with her, she did the best she could do at the time.” Bull. I felt she purposely did what she did to be hurtful and vindictive. I couldn’t let go.
Then I faced the possibility of losing one of the most important people in my life. The person who took me out of that bad environment and gave me the tools to live a better life. The person I’d looked up to for as long as I could remember. Suddenly, my biological mother was no longer important.
She is missing out. She doesn’t know the person I’ve become and she never will. She’s chosen to have our relationship end up this way. I am a good person and her life is emptier for not knowing me.
I forgive her, but if I never see her again…
So What?
I don't expect anyone to read this. I'm fine with that. I just wanted someplace to dump some thoughts and keep some sort of record of my life. I'm horrible at record keeping. Horrible at keeping in touch with people. Almost three years ago I left behind a circle of great friends to move back home to Hawaii. We said goodbye with promises of visits and keeping in touch. No one's been to visit. I see them occasionally when I have to travel to the mainland on business or can do a weekend stopover on the way back from visiting family in the Midwest. I get a once in awhile phone call...sometimes I see someone online and we can chat. Part of me knows that the ones that were true friends will always be true friends, even though they've moved on with their lives...bought houses, gotten married, planning kids. But it still hurts. I've had fantasies of buying a huge parcel of land somewhere and rounding up all the important people in my life and giving them homes on that land so we can all be together. Totally unrealistic, but a nice thought just the same.
One of these friends has a blog and I've been keeping track of her that way. It's a nice way to peep in on her life and make sure everything is alright. It's very passive. It seems to be comfortable for her. I've watched her circle of friends grow in her new environment and I'm so happy her life is on the right track. Yet, I miss her. A lot.
Another friend (not to sound all teenagery, but my very bestest friend in the whole wide world) started blogging to cope with a major loss in her life. She suggested I do the same. Said it was easy enough. Point, click, type, done. So here I am. Dumping out my thoughts into cyberspace where my identity is protected to discourage the stalkers and the crazies. Those of you who know me and are reading this may get to know me a little more than you wanted to. Those of you who don't know me and are reading this (not sure why, but ok) may think I'm totally whack. So what?
A little on the title of this blog. A few months after turning 35, my high school boyfriend happened to be in town with his daughter. We had dinner and got caught up on the last 15 years or so of our lives. We started talking about aging and I mentioned to him that I felt I had hit the pinnacle and it was a slow slide down to the afterlife from here. Defeatist? Yes. Pessimistic? Of course. I didn't realize how true it was.
Death and loss are a part of life. I understand that. But up until the last year, I had only the slightest experience with it. Nothing really first hand. Sure, family members have been dying off all my life, but they weren't close family members. Not really. Then...
Maggie died. Maggie was a dog. Not just a dog...a great dog. She was independent. She had attitude. She was warm and caring when she wanted and would let you know when she was done with the closeness. I respected that. She was a therapy dog. She was my parents' dog. Shortly after moving back home, my marriage was on the rocks and I was in a strange place. I couldn't open up to my parents very easily. Everyone knew something was up, but didn't want to force the issue. So I would go to my parents' house for refuge and Maggie would lay next to me...sometimes lay ON me (not really comfortable, since she was an 80 lb Bull Mastiff) and give me comfort. She passed away from cancer at the end of December 2005 and I'm still not over it. I dream of her often. Then...
I got re-married in the middle of 2006 and we took a trip Nebraska to see our families. We're both from there originally...funny, since we met in Hawaii, but that's a whole nother story I'm not going to get into here. :) His parents, sister and her family and his daughter live there. My brother still lives in Nebraska and my estranged biological mother does too, sort of. In an effort to see if there was anything worth salvaging of this supposed mother-daughter bond, we made plans to spend the day with her. It was a huge disaster. This woman is the woman that gave birth to me and it was all she could do to look me in the eye and acknowledge my presence. We ended up escaping early without a goodbye and I proceeded to go into a major depression. Nice way to start a marriage, huh? I went back into therapy and my husband tried to be there for me as I mourned the loss of this relationship. Then...
My father was diagnosed with prostate cancer. The doctors said it had already metastasized into his spine and the outlook was bleaker than bleak. As I sat there on the couch with my husband at my side and my father telling me he was dying I felt like my world was literally ending. Therapy sessions were stepped up to once a week. My therapist had to learn to become a grief counselor on the fly as we worked towards finding a place where I could handle it. The anger was unbelievable. I was scared. It colored every part of my life. I had nightmares. I had mood swings. I went numb. Then...
My best friend called from the mainland to tell me she'd been put on bedrest. She was pregnant with twins and having some difficulty so as a precaution they were putting her on strict bedrest. The hope was her being able to carry at least to 30 weeks, when the babies would have a better chance. A couple of weeks later they had to deliver the babies via c-section at just under 25 weeks. At the time, I really didn't understand what this meant. I was just so happy that they had two little girls and that my friend was ok. As the days went on, the real picture became clearer. This was not good. I felt so helpless already dealing with my dad's cancer and I was in the same geographical location as him. I told my husband that I felt even more helpless that I couldn't do anything for my friend from here. "Then don't be here," he said, "be there." Three days later I walked into her hospital room and heard the real news. And again, my world crumbled. These precious little lives that we had been so looking forward to being a part of would be ending before they could really get started. My husband flew out the next day and close friends and family gathered around to show our support and our love for these little girls that we would never get to know. It was the most heartbreaking thing I've ever lived through, but I was so glad I could be there for them and for my friend and her husband.
At this point, I was at my limit. No more pain, please, no more loss. I tried so hard not to shut down completely to preserve my sanity. My dad was off to Seattle to go to a cancer treatment center and find out what his options were. My friend's ordeal had taught me what the word "palliative" meant. That word kept coming up in relation to my dad and I did not like it. My parents called a few days later to tell me that the doctors here at home were wrong, to some extent. Yes, my father has prostate cancer, but no, it has not spread to his spine. It is still localized and therefore a prostatectomy (try saying that three times fast) is the best course of action and he will be considered cured. Unbelievable. I was so angry at the doctors here, I couldn't be happy for about a week. This was right before Christmas, so we celebrated through the holidays. I'm still mistrustful, though. I will not believe this is over until the surgery is done and I hear from them that there was nothing unusual about it. Then I can breathe a sigh of relief.
Then Simon died. Simon was my mom's dog and he went fast from lung cancer. He was a good dog and he had a long life. I know it was very difficult on my mom, but I can't help to think how much more difficult it would have been if things wouldn't have worked out for my dad. So that loss is tempered that way.
So, there's a little background. I promise to keep things shorter from here on out. A big thank you to Puddin' who had the original post still on her screen so I could recreate this after destroying it when I tried to put links in. Note to self: draft in Word first!
One of these friends has a blog and I've been keeping track of her that way. It's a nice way to peep in on her life and make sure everything is alright. It's very passive. It seems to be comfortable for her. I've watched her circle of friends grow in her new environment and I'm so happy her life is on the right track. Yet, I miss her. A lot.
Another friend (not to sound all teenagery, but my very bestest friend in the whole wide world) started blogging to cope with a major loss in her life. She suggested I do the same. Said it was easy enough. Point, click, type, done. So here I am. Dumping out my thoughts into cyberspace where my identity is protected to discourage the stalkers and the crazies. Those of you who know me and are reading this may get to know me a little more than you wanted to. Those of you who don't know me and are reading this (not sure why, but ok) may think I'm totally whack. So what?
A little on the title of this blog. A few months after turning 35, my high school boyfriend happened to be in town with his daughter. We had dinner and got caught up on the last 15 years or so of our lives. We started talking about aging and I mentioned to him that I felt I had hit the pinnacle and it was a slow slide down to the afterlife from here. Defeatist? Yes. Pessimistic? Of course. I didn't realize how true it was.
Death and loss are a part of life. I understand that. But up until the last year, I had only the slightest experience with it. Nothing really first hand. Sure, family members have been dying off all my life, but they weren't close family members. Not really. Then...
Maggie died. Maggie was a dog. Not just a dog...a great dog. She was independent. She had attitude. She was warm and caring when she wanted and would let you know when she was done with the closeness. I respected that. She was a therapy dog. She was my parents' dog. Shortly after moving back home, my marriage was on the rocks and I was in a strange place. I couldn't open up to my parents very easily. Everyone knew something was up, but didn't want to force the issue. So I would go to my parents' house for refuge and Maggie would lay next to me...sometimes lay ON me (not really comfortable, since she was an 80 lb Bull Mastiff) and give me comfort. She passed away from cancer at the end of December 2005 and I'm still not over it. I dream of her often. Then...
I got re-married in the middle of 2006 and we took a trip Nebraska to see our families. We're both from there originally...funny, since we met in Hawaii, but that's a whole nother story I'm not going to get into here. :) His parents, sister and her family and his daughter live there. My brother still lives in Nebraska and my estranged biological mother does too, sort of. In an effort to see if there was anything worth salvaging of this supposed mother-daughter bond, we made plans to spend the day with her. It was a huge disaster. This woman is the woman that gave birth to me and it was all she could do to look me in the eye and acknowledge my presence. We ended up escaping early without a goodbye and I proceeded to go into a major depression. Nice way to start a marriage, huh? I went back into therapy and my husband tried to be there for me as I mourned the loss of this relationship. Then...
My father was diagnosed with prostate cancer. The doctors said it had already metastasized into his spine and the outlook was bleaker than bleak. As I sat there on the couch with my husband at my side and my father telling me he was dying I felt like my world was literally ending. Therapy sessions were stepped up to once a week. My therapist had to learn to become a grief counselor on the fly as we worked towards finding a place where I could handle it. The anger was unbelievable. I was scared. It colored every part of my life. I had nightmares. I had mood swings. I went numb. Then...
My best friend called from the mainland to tell me she'd been put on bedrest. She was pregnant with twins and having some difficulty so as a precaution they were putting her on strict bedrest. The hope was her being able to carry at least to 30 weeks, when the babies would have a better chance. A couple of weeks later they had to deliver the babies via c-section at just under 25 weeks. At the time, I really didn't understand what this meant. I was just so happy that they had two little girls and that my friend was ok. As the days went on, the real picture became clearer. This was not good. I felt so helpless already dealing with my dad's cancer and I was in the same geographical location as him. I told my husband that I felt even more helpless that I couldn't do anything for my friend from here. "Then don't be here," he said, "be there." Three days later I walked into her hospital room and heard the real news. And again, my world crumbled. These precious little lives that we had been so looking forward to being a part of would be ending before they could really get started. My husband flew out the next day and close friends and family gathered around to show our support and our love for these little girls that we would never get to know. It was the most heartbreaking thing I've ever lived through, but I was so glad I could be there for them and for my friend and her husband.
At this point, I was at my limit. No more pain, please, no more loss. I tried so hard not to shut down completely to preserve my sanity. My dad was off to Seattle to go to a cancer treatment center and find out what his options were. My friend's ordeal had taught me what the word "palliative" meant. That word kept coming up in relation to my dad and I did not like it. My parents called a few days later to tell me that the doctors here at home were wrong, to some extent. Yes, my father has prostate cancer, but no, it has not spread to his spine. It is still localized and therefore a prostatectomy (try saying that three times fast) is the best course of action and he will be considered cured. Unbelievable. I was so angry at the doctors here, I couldn't be happy for about a week. This was right before Christmas, so we celebrated through the holidays. I'm still mistrustful, though. I will not believe this is over until the surgery is done and I hear from them that there was nothing unusual about it. Then I can breathe a sigh of relief.
Then Simon died. Simon was my mom's dog and he went fast from lung cancer. He was a good dog and he had a long life. I know it was very difficult on my mom, but I can't help to think how much more difficult it would have been if things wouldn't have worked out for my dad. So that loss is tempered that way.
So, there's a little background. I promise to keep things shorter from here on out. A big thank you to Puddin' who had the original post still on her screen so I could recreate this after destroying it when I tried to put links in. Note to self: draft in Word first!
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