Morphine Mania

2015-11-072015-11-07 Miss Poison Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Exhaustion, Fibromyalgia, Heart Surgery, Life, Musings, My Brother, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Recovery, Self-Care, Stress, Weekends, Writing

It’s no secret; I’ve had a rough two weeks dealing with a serious family emergency. If you’ve ever had to force a man (or any loved one) to go the hospital knowing that something was clearly NOT “okay”, perhaps you can relate.

My brother came out of surgery Thursday afternoon, a good three hours earlier than I anticipated based on the scheduling of the surgery itself. The look on my face when I saw the hospital’s phone number on my cell phone screen so early was scary; I wondered if I was about to be forced to make a medical decision on his behalf, but it was all good news. Surgeons in certain fields are a little too cocky for my taste. The better the school they go to, the cockier they seem to be. 😦 His surgeon told me how great he did (I wasn’t sure if he meant himself or my brother, the man was way too excited.) and that because he is young and healthy, he should be good to go after he heals. I’ve inherited a patient for the next 3-4 months once he’s discharged from the hospital. You can probably feel my enthusiasm from wherever you are reading this. People in Siberia can feel the warmth of that enthusiasm. I’m contemplating becoming an alcoholic in advance of his arrival.

My brother, when sick, is the world’s biggest pain in the ass. If he has an ear infection, I have to hear about it non-stop and deal with his whining. I could have headphones on and still hear him bitching from ten miles away. Post-surgery brother, which is an absolute first, is going to drive me to new levels of insanity. Feel free to send plenty of bottles of wine and hard liquor my way. My “water bottle” might very well have vodka in it later today.

He called me yesterday morning after they removed the tube they left in overnight because they were afraid he’d rip it out, and not only did he sound insane, but he openly admitted he couldn’t feel anything because they have him on a high dose of morphine. He told a nurse “Sure, take blood. I can’t feel my arms.” NICE. There’s nothing I enjoy more than hearing someone repeat themselves ten times in less than thirty minutes. Even better, he said he wasn’t repeating himself as he disclosed details of his surgery that I simply did NOT need to hear about. I don’t know him that well, he doesn’t need to share every single thing with me. 😛

In my brother’s infinite wisdom, he gave me a list of errands to run for him. However, he left out crucial information, like where he keeps certain things and how I can access them. Welcome to the land of the paranoid boy. “Do this…”, but apparently I don’t need to know HOW, I just need to “get it done”. I am shaking my head at the stupidity of it all, and the fact that I went to four different places to handle this crap. I can’t decide if I’m stupid or insane. By the time I got home last night, I had dinner and went to bed, and this morning there is not a single part of my body that doesn’t hurt like hell.

I did everything earlier than I anticipated so that Monday, once all the tubes come out, I can go to the hospital for a while, and perhaps then, I will be let it on the secret as to where all the other documents are so that I can copy, print, scan, and fax/ e-mail them to the necessary parties. I’ve seen a LOT in my life medically, but there are some things my brain does not need branded in it for life. I’m banned from his room until the tubes come out, as he’s afraid I will pass out and/or throw up on someone. I have NO idea why he thinks I’m some sheltered little creature. Far from it. However, he said he’d prefer that I not see him as he is now, but that I can come once he looks like a “normal human-being again”, whatever that looks like.

Things are all pointing in good directions for him health-wise at the moment, but I can tell that recovery will be slow. It makes me sick that he’s coughing and is in so much pain from every movement. I understand pain far more than he will ever realize, but I have been lucky to avoid surgery, despite one major hospital stay.

He can’t do anything for 12 weeks upon being discharged from the hospital, but he said he’d give the paperwork to me so I can A) Read everything and B) Learn about his new diet. Subtlety at its finest. 😦 I offered to make him homemade chicken soup this weekend and bring him some on Monday, but he refused, saying it was “too much work”. It’s roughly a few hours of letting the flavors simmer before I pull the chicken out, but if he’s going to be on an all liquid diet for a week or two, nothing is better than homemade soup. It soothes the soul and heals the body, or at least mine does. Then he told me it likely has too much salt in it, which was downright insulting (No one has EVER accused me of that!), so I will bring him something else once he decides what he wants. His vocal cords are going to take some time to heal, so for now, he’s asking for some pretty weird things, but I am happy to bring them if they will make him feel better. If I can keep his mouth full, it might even keep him quiet. 😉

I am glad to have this weekend to rest my body. Even after a night’s worth of sleep, I’d gladly go back to bed and snuggle with Cat, who returned to her spot in bed as soon as she finished her breakfast. She looks so warm and cuddly in her twisted upside down position while she purrs. There is something about watching Cat and Kitten in their restful states that often makes me sleepy, perhaps it’s how calm and relaxed they are in the safety of their home. Of course, Kitten just got smacked for jumping up on the bed and checking on her. As she has grown in size, Cat has become less amused by her antics. There is a definite balance between play and slumber. If she feels Kitten is getting out of hand or acting out of turn, she will smack her gently, to let her know she’s not in the mood. Kitten is still a baby in so many ways, so she will either smack her back and force her to engage in play, or walk away sad, which is precisely when she looks at me as if to say “Mommy, she’s being mean to me.” She defers to her ‘older sister’, but she won’t take crap from her either. They have watched over me these past two weeks while I’ve been in various stages of upset, and cared for me when I’ve felt sick myself. This is a great benefit of raising little creatures that unconditionally love you. People, I find, are too fickle to truly offer that level of love.

Since my original plans for this weekend are no longer valid, anyone who sees SPECTRE needs to let me know how they enjoyed it. Feel free to send me spoilers as well, since I have to pre-order it on Blu-Ray which won’t happen ’til next year. I absolutely HATE missing another Bond movie opening weekend. 😦 If you know me well, you know why.

And so, I am off to begin “the weekend” in some fashion. I’ve been up for hours, but haven’t made any definitive decisions as to what I will do. For now, I think Self-Care needs to be a priority.

Wishing you all an enjoyable, happy, & safe weekend. Do something fun! 🙂

Shit Helps

Image 2015-11-05 Miss Poison Honesty, Images/Photos/Quotes, Life Honest Humor, Images/Photos/Quotes, Sue Fitzmaurice

Fog

2015-11-052015-11-05 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Compassion, Heart Surgery, Honesty, Life, My Brother, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Poor Communication Skills, Stress, Writing

When I went to bed this morning, the fog was pretty dense behind my house. It rolled in out of nowhere. I think it’s a metaphor for what I am going through at the moment. “It happened out of nowhere.” Yeah, that sounds about right.

I feel nothing. I’m an ocean-cleansed shell. For almost two weeks now, I’ve continued to say “I’m fine.” I’ve probably been saying that for longer than I realize. “I’m okay” or “I’m fine” are often the truth, but sometimes it’s me dismissing myself when I shouldn’t. I didn’t have to pay someone to tell me that in therapy either, I am working it out on my own.

Today is “Surgical Thursday”, and I feel NOTHING. When someone takes their anger, frustration, and fear out on you systematically over the course of several days, weeks, months, years, etc., you slowly lose the ability to give a shit. You might very well care, but today, I’m choosing not to invest emotion into what is happening.

My dear Uncle used to say “It is what it is.” I’d like to interpret that as “Let it go.” It’s much like Glinda, the Good Witch of the North saying “You have no power here. Be gone, before someone drops a house on you!”

Today, I am going to do my level best to focus on things I neglected yesterday. I am tired of being on the phone for hours, of texting until my fingers ache, and of updating people when it’s not my responsibility to do so.

I politely asked my brother to have the surgeon call me after the procedure is over (he is the last surgery of the day, so I wasn’t asking for a miracle. It is commonplace for a surgeon to call the family if they cannot be present or speak to the family if they’re in the surgical waiting room.), so I’d know how it went. He dismissed me and said he’d call me himself. I think he’s over-reaching his expectations on that level. The kid thinks I’m going to be his caretaker/caregiver for many months of recovery. He’s wrong. Disrespect me once; shame on you. Disrespect me twice and you can go fuck yourself. When I hang up on a person twice in one day, it’s not because they’ve been polite and kind, it’s likely because they’ve been an asshole.

When I spoke to Case Study #2 last night, I vocalized this and he said “Then you don’t have to. You’re not obligated to take care of anyone who cannot see all the good that you do. You don’t need to be abused for caring and showing compassion. If someone cannot clearly see you, then they do not deserve you.” You might very well know all of that inside your soul, but having that reaffirmed by someone, at times, is quite gratifying. Everyone else has told me “You’re exhausted, you need to eat and take care of you.”, but no one was willing to address the fact that I don’t deserve hostility. I only have so much compassion before I shut down and say “Enough.”

Concern and compassion don’t come from selfish, self-serving places. They come from a place of genuineness. If someone repeatedly shows you that they do not respect that, or you, it’s perfectly fine to say “Fuck off!” (Or whatever you, personally, prefer to say.)

And so my day begins… There is writing to be done and creativity to unleash. Here’s hoping it is a productive day for one and all. If you are participating in NaNoWriMo, I wish you oodles of good luck. 🙂

Personally, I’m certain that over a hundred thousand quality words come out of my mouth on a daily basis, but that doesn’t mean they’re there for free. 😉

Sleep Deprived

2015-11-03 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Health, Heart Surgery, Honesty, Life, Musings, My Brother, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Sleep Deprivation, Writing

I spent Sunday running on less than three hours of sleep. As you can imagine, it was an incredibly long day. I pushed myself to go to the hospital. I was surprised I wasn’t in and out in twenty minutes, as hospitals are more than a little traumatic for me. I managed to stay for quite a while. It was, quite possibly, a first. It might have been because the CICU rooms are private (another first), it might have been because it’s practically empty in there (It might very well have been the quietest hospital I’ve ever been to.), or it might have simply been a week’s worth of stress and concern relieved, to some extent, when I saw that there weren’t fifteen different contraptions hooked up to one person. Normally when I see that, I never see the person alive again. In fact, my brother has already informed all of the surgeons, doctors, and nurses NOT to allow me in if he’s hooked up to a multitude of devices. He’s afraid I’ll lose it.

As of yesterday, my brother is stable, but they’re trying to adjust his medication because he is losing electrolytes at a rapid pace, which is based solely on the medication he is receiving. Tests are being run in earnest so that they can move forward with surgery. Initially it was scheduled for this morning, but late yesterday afternoon a doctor came in and told him it was canceled so they can monitor him for several more days and adjust his medication before moving forward. That information was jarring. First he told me “Surgery is at 7:00 tomorrow morning.” and a few hours later he tells me it’s been canceled and explains why. I went through a myriad of emotions that were quite exhausting. Now obviously, this isn’t about me, but I am still greatly affected. His mood is better, and he was really happy to see me. He said it gave him strength to face what is coming.

Now that I know the direction they’re taking, I realize how sleep deprived I am from last week, and in general. I grocery shopped Sunday afternoon like a staggering zombie. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was buying, either. I saw a list in front of me and I got most of what was on the list (I still have to go back in a few days and get everything I couldn’t handle in the moment.), which I realized yesterday morning, but I was truly not functioning on all cylinders. I’m so stressed that I require reminders to eat, or I’ll simply feed Cat and Kitten and ignore my own body’s needs.

Cats aren’t on Daylight Saving Time, which is an adjustment for us humans. They’re waking me incredibly early (two hours or so earlier than normal.) to be fed, they’re asking for “dinner” at 3:00 in the afternoon, and Cat likes to screw with me by walking away from her food at least once a day. She patiently waits for me to “serve” them and then runs and hides as I try to scoop her up and put her in front of her plate. I can only catch her if she wants to be caught. She’ll wait a few hours and then roll a ball into my room while I work or drop a toy at the door. She’ll stare at me with her big, gold eyes and implore me to understand that I need to stay with her while she eats, that she requires protection from “the little one”. I picked Kitten up the other day to let her know her behavior was unacceptable and inform her that she’d already eaten and needs to leave her sister alone so that she can eat her own food in peace. She’s not “little” any more. The kitten behavior remains in her energy, curiosity, affection, and sweetness, but she felt like a small sack of potatoes. She could easily pass for a small turkey if she sits the right way and yet I will probably learn in a few months when she gets her shots that she’s about ten pounds. That’s the normal weight and size she should be for now. Her energy and weight will adjust and she’ll either remain the same weight or lose a pound or two. Torties are like thoroughbred horses (some, not all). Their running, jumping, troublesome, adventurous natures do not stop as they get older. Their personalities are more human, but they seem to take the whole “nine lives” thing seriously and do their level best to test them out. You either have a stroke watching this behavior or you get used to it. I try not to react too much since she is my second Tortie. Surprisingly, they are quite similar in many ways.

This week, despite only being Tuesday, feels like a cosmic joke. I write, I take care of normal things, but I’m not truly present in any way. There are always e-mails, phone calls, and texts at the moment. There are friends and family overseas that are deeply concerned and feeling guilty that they’re not present. I did not tell a lot of family members because it was against my brother’s express wishes and quite frankly, they don’t need to know. If people don’t care about you year-round, then they should not be allowed to lap up your pain and misery simply because it makes them feel superior in some way. I don’t understand people like that. I don’t find anyone’s pain amusing. I still have compassion. And sadly, if any of these people needed me, I’m not 100% sure I’d make myself available any more. The people who are always there for me know my heart and they know I’d take a bullet for them, but anyone that cannot stand by me in good and bad times, whether we are blood-related or not, needs to fuck off.

I’m not very receptive to excuses. In life and death matters, people should be present. My Aunt told me her children (my first cousins, all of whom should know better, but apparently my brother & I are the only ones that inherited brains.) didn’t attend my parent’s funerals because their children were sick. We’re not talking about infants, so my thought process was “Then ask a neighbor, a friend, or a fucking babysitter to watch them for two hours. You do NOT pretend like your Uncle and Aunt didn’t pass away, and by all that is holy, do NOT show up a year later and pretend like I am going to accept your presence as acceptable behavior.” If I don’t go to a funeral, it is probably because I wasn’t given enough notice, not because I am being disrespectful. You don’t ask a third-party to e-mail me about a funeral. That’s not how you do things like that. And if you do, screw you, I won’t be there.

My brother isn’t as fierce as I am. If a person doesn’t call or visit him in the hospital, he doesn’t take it personally. He told me last night that only a handful of people matter, and that I’m the one who matters the most, no one else. Even still, it makes me angry that the people who should be supporting him are not. You definitely see people’s true colors during hard times, but the truth is much more easily faked during good times. I don’t respond well to that. I know when people aren’t being genuine. There’s a huge difference between being nosy and legitimately caring about another person’s well-being.

And so, I have reached a “point of no return”. I’d rather cut the herd now, as opposed to continue dealing with fake crap. There are a few people who are about to be torn new assholes, and quite frankly, it doesn’t bother me in the least. No one deserves to deal with people who spew crap out of two different ends. No one.

I know many of you can relate to the family and friend dynamics I am talking about. It’s disgusting, but I think overall, we are all better off cutting people out that are cancers in our lives.

Hanging By A Very Fine Thread

2015-10-312015-10-31 Miss Poison Life, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Halloween, Heart Health, Life, My Brother, October, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Samhain, Saturdays, Stress, Surgery, Writing

I think what little is left of my sanity snapped Thursday afternoon when I received word that my brother will likely need open heart surgery, providing he is a viable candidate. If that is not an option, he will require a heart transplant. These are the kinds of words that make you want to sink into the earth.

During his last physical his doctor said his heart was healthy and strong, she was very pleased with the results from all of his tests, so I’m asking myself how things got so bad, so quickly. In turn, it’s making me wonder if my heart is a ticking time bomb, despite being told that I “have the heart of an 18 year old”. What does that even mean to doctors?! How can you trust them? Much like lawyers, I’m starting to suspect they’re all in it for the money, minus the few good doctors I do know who are caring, kind, and give 110% to their patients. Why help people when you can simply get paid?! Thank GOD I did not become a doctor or a lawyer. I would not be able to look at myself in the mirror in either profession. 😦

I have been advised to begin genetic testing to find out “what’s in my future” due to this occurrence. I’m much more inclined to look into a crystal ball.. The fact of the matter is, we all inherit good and bad genes. All of us, no one is genetically perfect. I do not want to play G-d with myself. I can understand if I showed signs of something questionable, but I don’t, so the subject matter makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I have already had to tell a family member, more than once, to back off with the know-it-all crap. All I want and need at the moment is emotional support.

My move is temporarily postponed until I know what is happening and exactly how things will proceed. I can’t, in good faith, leave my brother behind in a hospital bed and say “See ya!” That’s not who I am. I know some people would do precisely that, and I am sure someone, somewhere will think that I am a moron for staying behind to take care of him, but I’m not heartless. Surgery will require approximately six months of healing time post-op, and he will need someone to be here for him, even though I won’t be able to do every single thing he might need. If immediate surgery is not the option he & his doctors choose, if things turn to a different type of surgery, like a transplant, I honestly don’t know what I will do.

I can’t spend even 30 minutes inside a hospital. They make me sick and drive me insane. I spent years taking care of my parents when they were ill, and I would not have been able to move or do any of the things I wanted to do at the time knowing that they were sick and needed me. I would have been too far away in an emergency, so this poses a problem for me now as well. I feel bad that I am not with him 24/7. Unfortunately, it did start a fight as to whether or not I “care”. 😦 He does not seem to realize or understand my true value in his life. I have done everything I can to support him through this and be a good sister. I’ve never not been a good sister, I’m not about to start now, but I’m not going to take crap from someone simply because they’re lonely, grouchy, and going through nicotine withdrawal.

When he was in recovery Thursday afternoon at a new hospital he was transferred to, a nurse came to tell him that I had called and was “very worried about him” and that he needed to call me back “right away”. When he asked me about that later on I said “I did not say that.” I hadn’t. I simply tried tracking him down and it took forever once we got disconnected since cell reception in that portion of the hospital is damn near nonexistent. He looked at her when she said it and immediately thought “That doesn’t sound like MY sister. She wouldn’t say that.” I might not verbalize the worry, but obviously I’m not okay about this situation. It’s upsetting and disturbing on more levels than I care to discuss. Who the hell would be okay with it?!

In situations like this, technology is a wonderful thing, though I don’t think I need all the hospital selfies, but I promise to put them in a photo album to show all his future girlfriends. 😉 No, he doesn’t read this.

I realized Friday morning, when he threw me out of bed after less than two hours of sleep because he was finally awake, bored, lonely, and obscenely chatty, that I can’t sit for three plus hours on the phone every single night because he’s awake, though I am glad he is finally resting. Every time my phone buzzes, I jump like I’ve been bitten by a snake. I have the ringer off on the landline because every sound it makes is horrible to my ears. Precisely who makes ringtones for landlines? I want to know. My cell phone isn’t much better. It’s not my personal ringtone choices that bother me, it’s the noise itself. Unless I’m out in public, my phone is always on vibrate. Last night I decided to turn on the “Do Not Disturb” feature on my phone and allow myself to sleep, even if it wasn’t a full night. I knew I needed the silence as I try handling a migraine that has lasted for over two days and the stress of this past week. Up until the last second, he was still arguing with me via text. I cannot deal with that level of crazy. I have my limits.

And yet, it is eerily quiet when my brother is not around talking to Cat and Kitten, slamming my doors, inspecting my refrigerator and cabinets for goodies, blasting baseball or football, asking ridiculous questions, etc. He is the person people see nine times out of ten because I am often in too much pain to do anything outside beyond walking to and from the car.

I am almost certain I scared the crap out of a neighbor when I went outside to bring my garbage can and recycling bin in so that neither of them would go rolling down the street due to the wind. I saw him and his dog coming toward me, he did not see me walking down the driveway, and by the time he looked up, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. As per usual, 99% of the neighbors do not speak to me, and he was no different. They live in the house that drove me nuts for months with the incredibly noisy add-on. On the plus side, the dog didn’t jump on me or bark, always a sign of good training. I honestly didn’t know anyone on the street close enough to me had a dog any more, that’s how quiet this one is. Or perhaps he was simply happy to be out on a walk. I later learned from my brother that he sees this guy walking the dog “at all hours”. He then proceeded to tell me that I’d know who he was if I was not a hermit. LOL. Sue me for minding my own fucking business!

This weekend I am going to attempt to tackle a few things. One, get my brother’s car from the first hospital’s parking lot. Two, try to get over to the hospital with some clean clothes so he will stop bitching (Don’t ask me when I became a maid, because I can assure you that the “pay” on this “job” sucks dishwater.). Three, get groceries. It took me about an hour to realize that the “Shop From Home” app is a piece of shit. I suppose it works fine if you buy the same things every single time you shop, but if you can’t offer me fresh vegetables & fruit with accuracy unless they’re on sale in your current ad, that doesn’t work for me. There is a long list of things you can’t purchase unless it’s in the ad or listed on the site, and it could take longer to compose a list for delivery than it would to simply go and shop myself. An on-line list should not take two hours. Call me crazy, but it should be easier to navigate. I certainly don’t need to pay anyone $20, before a tip, to put an order together and deliver it to me from five minutes up the road. That’s wasteful beyond words.

Everything I need to do should be simple enough, but it isn’t. I am enlisting one of his friends for some help because I’m not superwoman at the moment. If someone can pitch in and throw me a bone to make things easier, that will make a huge difference in my eyes. I hate asking for help, but my brother has driven me insane this week and I’m on my last nerve. I can’t deal with any more of his crankiness. All I can do is my best, if he doesn’t like it, tough titty said the kitty.

I’ve been so stressed and distracted that I damn near forgot it was Halloween. Enjoy trick-or-treating with your kiddos or simply enjoy the holiday aspect for yourself. I know plenty of people who love giving out sweets to everyone that comes knocking tonight. I spare myself the aggravation (I used to really be into it, and perhaps that will happen next year when I am feeling more in the spirit of things.), and I truly have more important things to focus on tonight, but I still hope it is happy and safe for everyone partaking.

If you need me, I’ll be running around like a chicken without its head, but I swear, it’s not a blood ritual of any kind. It’s mere insanity.

iendalot — I don’t bother filtering. I use the word “asshole”.

Family First

2015-10-282015-10-28 Miss Poison Anger, Family, Health, Heart, Honesty, Life, October, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Stress, Writing Anger, Family, Friends, Health, Heart Failure, Honesty, Love, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Siblings, Writing

Yesterday morning my brother was admitted into the hospital with what is, as of now, a form of heart failure. The doctors are baffled; stating that they don’t know how this happened because he is far too young. Unfortunately, he is far from being out of the woods. He is scheduled for a serious procedure today, and I am sadly all too familiar with it.

My original post probably won’t go up today because I’m sitting here speechless, sick to my stomach. I have words, there are things I want to say, but I feel the need to keep it inside for now.

I don’t talk about my personal life an awful lot, and there’s a reason for that. Most of you that know me off of this page are my friends in everyday life. You have the ability to call me, e-mail me, text, or visit, etc. But for those that do not personally know me, my heart, or the deeper aspects of my life, I tend to keep those things to myself. There’s plenty of people telling their life stories on blogs, but this is not a blog for me; it is my platform as a writer. I am a writer, I have been for 28 years. I’m not a blogger, at least not here, but perhaps that is just semantics for some people. I, however, stand by those words.

This week, I worry (It’s a Jewish woman thing.). I will try to push past the pit of hell inside my stomach. I pray for healing, for modern medicine to do what it’s supposed to do. I pray that some dietary changes reverse this, as a doctor told him it could/would, with some serious effort on his part, but only if it’s a specific type of heart failure.

The words “Life Vest” were used. That kind of technology did not exist when a doctor wanted to crack open my mother’s chest ten years ago and attach a defibrillator to her heart. Her doctor was over 80 (I wanted to punch this man at least three times, but it would have been disrespectful. I told her if he’d been 60, I’d have knocked his teeth out.), did not care to explain the procedure in a gentle manner, and was so rude that he only managed to turn the issue into a “Hell no!”, as opposed to “Can we discuss this?” Everything is being thoroughly explained to my brother, and for that I am grateful. He’s also smart enough to ask questions that other people might not think of and then discuss his options with me, that way there’s a proactive person involved in his recovery.

I know that many of you will understand if I am silent for a while; that family comes first. Today, and maybe most days, I am my Grandmother’s granddaughter. I do put my family first, but I am not afraid to handle the tough stuff. That’s why during the worst times in my life, I handle what needs to be handled, even if I’m not happy about doing it. Even if it breaks me.

Lack of a family unit has really bothered me these last few years. As I sat here yesterday making calls, I realized that about a dozen people did not need to be called, because they don’t give a fuck on a good day, and I will not give them the satisfaction of lapping up misery. I appreciate the people who offered up prayers, but I very nearly told someone off who made an off-hand comment without knowing precisely what is wrong. I had to take a huge step back, realizing that I’m emotional and snapping when you’re upset is not conducive to quality communication with others.

It would be hard not to be upset, angry (because I have tried for YEARS to take every bad thing out of his hands when I knew it was being over-done.), frustrated, and scared. I wouldn’t be human if I felt nothing. But I do feel, and I pray that this procedure holds answers as to the how and why. I pray to all that is holy that this is merely a bump in the long road of life. I pray that my brother sees the error of his ways, realizes he is being given a second chance, and takes that opportunity instead of squandering his brilliant mind.

I thank the doctors and nurses caring for him and the four different people who stopped him from an attempt to sneak into the parking lot for a cigarette! I’m embarrassed he’d stoop so low. They all yelled at him (His words were “They bitched me out!” I said nothing, because I feel he deserved it.), and he was later given a patch, so I am praying this is the end to me saying “You need to quit smoking before it kills you.” My brother may not be receptive to my direct honesty, but he’s taking it from doctors and nurses and I think that in and of itself is a positive thing.

I hope I’ll be able to say something more definitive in the next few days. In the meantime, I’m packing and trying to do all that I can for my brother. Because no matter how big a pain in the ass he is, and my GOD, I swear I inherited a big baby, he’s still MY brother. No one else alive can say that, and I told him the same thing. “No one else alive can say that I am their sister, so stop acting like no one cares about you.” I yell because I care, so when I stop yelling, he’d better start worrying.

As of now, I do not know with any certainty whether his medical expenses will be completely covered. If they aren’t, I will be posting a link at a later date to a fundraiser where even the smallest donation will help, but I will only do so if there’s a huge issue.

Thank you for listening to my insanity this morning. Have a good Wednesday, everyone. 🙂

Prayers & Tears

2015-10-262015-10-26 Miss Poison Feelings, Life, Mondays, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Sadness, Tears, Writing Health, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Prayer, Sadness, Siblings, Tears, Writing

I contemplated being silent today because I’m not in a good mood, but I’m also too upset to pretend.

I’ve had less than five hours of sleep. I tried going back to bed an hour ago, but I am unable to focus on genuine rest. That usually means doing what I always do when there are thoughts running through my head; write.

My brother is sick. By “sick”, I do not mean he has a cold or the flu, I mean that he is going into the hospital tonight. Why wait? Because he “doesn’t want to ruin my day”. It’s not meant to make me feel guilty, he’s just utilizing God given guilt.

When I tried encouraging him to “just go” (He totally inherited the stubbornness from my Mom.), he refused, saying he could go tonight “after I celebrate”. I even offered to go with him, which he doesn’t want, not unless major surgery is being performed. He’s not trying to be dramatic, he just is. 😦 He’s also conscious of the fact that nearly every birthday I have sucks in some way, and that he’s usually the cause if I, myself, am not stuck in bed sick as a dog (in the traditional way).

Last night, he informed me of all his final plans. Plans I am meant to carry out, some of which include organ donation. I’ve had to hear people’s “final wishes” more times than I care to count, so last night was too much. My eyes are swollen from crying and my stomach hurts wondering if this is it, if some horrible health issue is going to rob me of the only remaining sibling I have left. Very real possibilities. When he got a clean bill of health three years ago, I was surprised, and relieved, but a lot has changed since then and I am sick with worry.

You know that one stubborn family member who would rather risk his/her own hearing than go to the emergency room for a horrible ear infection?! That’s my brother. Not once, not twice, but three times. The first time he did it, he did lose significant hearing in his left ear because he waited an extra day before going to the ER. The last ear infection was so bad that he now accuses me of raising my voice when I speak at a normal tone. I can whisper, he’ll say I yelled.

Today is not about me. Today is about praying for my brother and what he is going through. It is me praying that he did not have a heart attack and isn’t in congestive heart failure, and that nothing more is going on, though I suspect there is based on what he is saying hurts. Both of my Grandfathers died from heart attacks, but one died at 40, leaving behind a wife, a fifteen year old, and a five year old. My brother started taking aspirin several years ago to “prevent” that from happening to him, but he made no other changes that could have been beneficial. That’s why I’m scared for him, and that’s why I’m sick to death over this.

I will half-heartedly do some important things that need to be done this morning into the early afternoon hours, but after that, I am forcing his ass to the hospital, even if I have to drag him there by his balls. He usually hallucinates when they medicate him, so that would mean being told rather loudly that I am “trying to pull out his IV” or “embarrassing him” when all I’m doing is sitting quietly, or pacing the hall outside a room. I will spend the evening waiting to hear what his prognosis is.

No matter what you believe in, I ask that you say a little prayer today. No one deserves to lose a loved one and no one as young as my brother deserves to go through this.

Empty

2015-10-24 Miss Poison Emotions, Feelings, Honesty, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Cat and Kitten, Feelings, Life, Musings, Negativity, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Thinking Positive, Writing

I might be writing this from the afterlife. Why would I say that? Because the truly gruesome bruises are gone, there’s not a scratch in sight, and I feel…nothing. Perhaps empty would be the correct word. That can’t possibly be normal. Though my warm shower definitely reminded me that my left knee is far from okay. I will try to get it checked out this coming week.

I am packing my clothes, or at least, I’m trying to. I had no clue I had so many items. I tend to cycle through a lot of the same things over and over, as many of us do, but now that it’s getting colder and I am moving to a colder climate, there’s just cause to make sure my sweatshirts, sweaters, and warmer items are readily available.

I packed several boxes of books. I still have to finish getting all of them into boxes, so this weekend and Monday I will be on a box hunt to see if any stores have boxes from deliveries that they’d normally be recycling. It kills two birds with one stone and since the entire area doesn’t recycle until next week, they will surely have some larger boxes that will help make my life a little easier. With lighter items, the bigger the box, the quicker things get packed. There will definitely reach a point where I just start throwing things into boxes. Hey, it’s what a lot of “professional movers” do. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I keep labeling things STORAGE or HOUSE. I’ve lost the ability to read my handwriting and codes about what is in each box. If I had more time, I’d feel like less of a moron. 😦 I should have cataloged everything with a notebook.

Monday is my birthday. If my best friend hadn’t mentioned it to me the other day, I would gladly have pretended it wasn’t happening. However, I promised her I wouldn’t do that. I will spend a few hours on Monday doing some small “me things”, but afterwards it’s back to work. I shouldn’t be wasting time I don’t have. I can always “celebrate” after the move, in a city where, right now, I know exactly four people. YAY! 😦 I’ll become a proud member of the “Can you open a bottle of wine?” club. #NockingPoint #UnfilteredBlonde

I truly wish more hands were on deck than just mine. Packing up a large house on your own is incredibly difficult. My cousin gave me a very lame excuse as to why he couldn’t help, and has suspiciously been avoiding me ever since. Case Study #1 has to work, which is a legitimate reason seeing as how he’ll be in another country. That’s not his fault, but I’m happy to mention it whenever he says he’s sorry he can’t be of “more help”. Seriously dude?! Case Study #2 is being an immense pain in my ass. By the time I arrive at my destination and clear the truck out, I might be insane and/or murderous. Expect to see bizarre Tweets “from the road” and/or photos posted from odd stops along the way.

I feel bad for Cat and Kitten. They’re going to be forced into their carriers for roughly 4-6 hours and believe me, the chorus of crying will begin the second they realize the house is empty and all their safe things are “gone”. I will pack them up with a blanket each, so they have something soft to sleep on and pray that they both fall asleep at some point. I know where the first stop is and I will make sure they’re okay before the longer shifts of not-stopping occur, but ultimately, I look forward to seeing how they adapt to their new home. I suspect it will be harder on me than it will be for them. As long as they have me, their toys, food, and things that still smell “like home”, they’ll be okay. Cats may hate change, but they do adapt well when you raise them properly. I am many things, and one of those is an excellent Cat Mother. It might be roughly for 7-10 days, but I know they’ll be fine.

Me? I’ll be emotional. I never dreamt of leaving my home, the home I chose for the long-haul, but sometimes shit happens, life changes, and you have to make decisions to better yourself, your health, career, and happiness. I would prefer to be as positive about it as humanly possible, as opposed to holding on to negative energy or emotions that do not enrich my life in a prosperous way. The only way to reach an emotional state of inner peace is to be a positive person. I’m not perfect with this, no one is that zen, but I’m trying.

I hope you all have a wonderful, fun-filled, happy weekend. If you start sneezing for no reason at all, I’m probably talking about you (Just Kidding). LOL.

You Better Have Some Skills…

Quote 2015-10-15 Miss Poison Honesty, Life, Quotes Bryant McGill, Honesty, Quotes

“You better have some skills in this world. You better bring something to the dinner party, or you will be the dinner. You will either have value or be grist for the mill — nothing more. I know it seems so unfair. I didn’t make the rules. The truth is that the world doesn’t have much use or respect for “do nothing” people. Can you really blame them? Take some pride in yourself. Get to work. Read everything you can get your hands on. Acquire several skills and find at least one that you can master, and that earns you respect. Let your skills do the talking. Get determined. This world is bursting with opportunity. Maybe it’s time you reinvent yourself and try again. Get going. Don’t cheat the world or yourself of what you have to offer. You must cultivate value within yourself if you want to move forward. If you feel trapped, quit thinking about the trap and start thinking about your value. Life favors value. Value is your way out.

Do you want to prosper? What do you give the world? Do you want to flourish in the garden of life? Life’s gardeners pluck the weeds and care only for the productive plants. The quality of your life hinges on your attitudes and offerings. Become a gift in the lives of others, and you will always be well received. If you want more opportunities you have to become an opportunity for others. As you advance yourself your opportunities advance too. It’s so simple. Get to work on yourself. The harder you work on yourself the more the external things you couldn’t change will change on their own. Cultivating your value proposition in life is the way to move forward. You are the raw material of your own destiny.” -Bryant McGill

Time Is A Fickle Thing

2015-10-11 Miss Poison Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing Israel, Life, Musings, Pieces Of Me, Poison In Lethal Doses, Writing

This weekend has blown by. I’ve done so much in the last few days that I am struggling to move. The only thing that doesn’t hurt is my hair. 😦

My new mattress was delivered earlier in the evening. The irony that I’ll only get to sleep on it for the next three weeks is not lost on me. The sale was amazing, so I was able to get some other much-needed items that I wouldn’t normally spend money on, but I had a huge store credit to use up even after the mattress was factored in. The fact that they wouldn’t fork over the cash is the only reason I allowed myself that bit of “retail therapy”.

Naturally, delivery couldn’t just be an easy thing. As soon as the delivery guys lifted the mattress up, they discovered that the broken spring wasn’t just on the top side of the mattress where I discovered it and where the inspector had found and photographed it. It had cracked and busted through the other side of the mattress as well, putting a huge hole in the box spring, a hole that exceeds the one I saw on the surface of the mattress. I had to call the store and leave a message to let them know that one side of the box spring will need to be replaced, since it’s a split box spring to suit the size of my bed’s frame. I was mortified seeing that hole, because I regularly check these things and I never even thought to take a look at it when I discovered the hole in the mattress. You live, you learn. Thankfully, this new mattress is spring-free. I suspect I might actually sleep well tonight.

I tried doing some lighter stuff today to help my lower back heal a little before I tackle the heavier things, but I ended up boxing up some stuff for donation (clothes, stuffed animals that my Mom had collected that I am okay parting with, etc.), sorting through some of my books, and putting things aside for the library, my nail salon, and tossing an immense amount of items. I also did laundry that way I will get to my new place with clean clothes for late Fall/early Winter, I just have to fold it all and pack it up. I’ve damn near met the ten bag limit for tomorrow’s garbage pick-up, which makes me smile. You truly have no idea how much you own until you have to move. If it were up to me, I’d leave 75% of this stuff behind, but since I inherited the “stuff”, I feel responsible for it. The next time I have to move, it will be the most minimalist move I can manage. I am determined to make that happen. I would prefer to leave my life and have memories as opposed to “stuff”. Music, books, art, photos, and jewelry are the only exceptions to the minimalist concept. Let’s not discuss my collection of bridal magazines that are in perfect shape that I will be putting out for recycling later in the week. I think there are three full boxes chock full of them, along with a smattering of other magazines that I definitely do not need to keep. It’s probably 100 pounds of printed paper. Note to self: You’re not allowed to subscribe to anything ever again, not even a free subscription. It’s not necessary. Read it and toss it like a normal person!

I wish I’d had more downtime to read and catch up on my DVR queue, but it just wasn’t possible. While waiting for the delivery men I watched (which means I fast-forwarded through all the commercials) The Originals (One of the BEST episodes ever. Kudos to Joseph Morgan & Daniel Gillies.), Bones, The Player (If you haven’t seen this show, I highly recommend it. Philip Winchester is AMAZING.), and after dinner I watched the finale of Strike Back, which is the ONLY series finale of any show that actually made me smile. Normally I am left with a “Who the fuck wrote this crap?” moment, but this one was outstanding. I love that show and will miss it terribly. Nothing else like it on TV.

I’ve got a ton of things to do this week. I have writing assignments to either complete or get started on, but I’m proud of the quality of the work I’ve already put in and I’m proud of the topics for the pieces I haven’t begun working on yet. All in all, the writing aspect of my life is doing what it’s supposed to do. When you don’t force it, or yourself, your work is ten times better than if you sit and stare at the screen in an attempt to “be a writer”. And yes, that’s a subject that will be covered in the coming weeks.

And so my lovelies, that was my weekend in a nutshell. I spared you the gory details out of the kindness of my heart. 😛

If you’re not watching football or baseball at the moment, I hope you’re getting ready for the week ahead and resting well. I am about to shut everything down for the night and get into bed. Really, just sitting here is so comfortable that my repeatedly broken tailbone doesn’t hurt at all. That’s unheard of since I normally can’t sit on any surface for very long without a small amount of pain in that part of my body, so I hope this is a sign of good things to come.

I’ll be back with more interesting things soon. Until next time, remember that while 40 may be the new 20, kindness is also the new black. 😉

Also, I am sending out prayers to my best friend in Israel who e-mailed me earlier today to let me know about the bombing near her home. There is absolutely NO reason why she should have to feel like a prisoner in the country she was born & raised in. Something has GOT to be done to keep the citizens of Israel safe from terror. Hell hath no fury if someone harms one of my best friends. I pray things settle down soon.

Laila Tov,