Last year, the day after my birthday, my brother was diagnosed with congestive heart failure that required a quadruple bypass. It was an extremely scary time in which I functioned on G-d only knows what, and forced myself to remain strong through prayer and talking to people who did their best to emotionally support me through that horrible time.
Today, I celebrate my brother’s birthday. In the past year, through horrific battles that life has challenged us with, we have become a more united brother & sister. I’m proud of that. The ugliness and evil of others cannot destroy what he & I have built. It’s a horrible situation, but through bad, there is also good.
In the past year my brother has lived through three life-threatening operations and a horrific maze of challenges that have been cruel, harsh, evil, and vicious. I pray that this year is better to him; that promises made are promises kept, and that a year from now, we can laugh instead of cry.
As so many of us know, life itself can be a harsh task master. If you have the power to make someone’s life better, greater, happier, more secure, etc., even if only for a short period of time, then you should be selfless and act, not say one thing and do another. Life is SO short and none of us want to live with regrets. My father (May He Rest In Peace) spent most of his life not speaking to his brother. This would go on for five years, ten years, etc., until eventually my Uncle was 71 and dying from cancer. Instead of calling my father, I was the one to receive the call that my Uncle had cancer and didn’t have much longer to live. I had to break the news to my father and plan a day for the entire family to be together. They bonded in those last moments as though they’d never bonded before, and I know it gave them both a sense of peace. My Uncle passed away, and nearly two years later my father passed, from the exact same disease.
I’d slay dragons and demons to make sure my brother remains alive and in tact. I may very well have to do that; but today I thank all that is Holy that he is alive, that he has survived, and ultimately, that he is MY brother.
I know things are bad at the moment, M, but I am ALWAYS, ALWAYS with you.
Love,
Sis
“They tried to break us, but that didn’t work. And they tried to destroy us, but that didn’t work. They sent every form of evil our way, and still we stood tall. For that is the bond of this blood, once and for all.”
Week two of this 10 level Fibro flare. Each day I have said “Tomorrow.” Yesterday I said “Self-care and work.”, because walking was out of the question in terms of pain, and even when the edge was taken off, I was concerned about further damage.
Waking up at 1:00 a.m. two days in a row with a migraine and excruciating hip pain is NOT doing much for my mood. I did about 10% of the proofreading job yesterday, and called it an early day. I am grateful it’s under 62,000 words, or I’d be furious with myself based on how hard I am working. I have a deadline to meet and I need to get this done. The sooner, the better. Brain cells died off yesterday. 😦
I’m struggling right now with the pain, with what my brother is going through. Another life-threatening infection, another stay in the hospital. More surgery scheduled for tomorrow morning. I am devastated and heartbroken, worried that my brother won’t make it through the year, and I am withdrawing from negative people who don’t want good things for me. If you treat me like a real person, I will be there for you through thick & thin, but when you treat me like an animal and/or a personal maid, it won’t take long before I get sick and tired of it.
The best was the phone call I received yesterday morning from a friend, asking if I could “pop down to New York real quick for the next week because her babysitter backed out and she has to work New York Fashion Week”. She hasn’t spoken to me in months (six, to be exact), but calls out of the blue for a favor. It’s not even a small favor, it’s the favor of entertaining a five year old for a week in New York City, as if I’m five minutes away. I very nearly responded by saying “She should be in school.” (which I firmly believe) and hanging up. What’s the point of enrolling your child in a nearly $40,000 a year private school if she is going to be missing a month traveling with you from New York to London, and then on to Milan and Paris? She could have stayed home and remained on schedule. I sat here, shaking my head no, and finally said “This time, I can’t do it.” I did NOT elaborate as to why or explain my feelings. It was as if I’d said NOTHING though, because then she asked if I’d be attending her 20th wedding anniversary party next year. One) I have not received an invitation; this is the first I’m hearing about it. Two) I wasn’t invited to the wedding, despite the fact that we’ve been friends since we were kids. Three) Maybe not. If I’m only good enough to be present for certain things and I’m not important enough for you to return my calls or text messages in a timely fashion (I don’t care who you are, no one is THAT busy, unless they’re off saving lives or have been deployed overseas.), please don’t expect me to jump when you DO deign to call. What little of a life I have, despite the fact that it makes me fucking miserable, is mine and I’m not a servant to be called in at the last-minute.
I am dead tired and would really like to sit and cry. However, I have to be strong for my brother and do what I can to help him get through another hurdle. Despite all the horrible shit I am going through, no one is cutting me open in an operating room (They’re simply doing it verbally.) and giving me bad news on that level. I pray he comes through this healthier, and I pray no family ever has to go through what he & I have been through over the past year.
I will be back as soon as I am able. For now, it’s back to the grindstone. G-d Help Me!
It’s no secret; I HATE summer. Unbearable heat, humidity, endless days of sun; they simply weren’t meant for someone like me. Fall is my favorite season (Two guesses why.), but Winter is a close second. That is why I am relieved to say goodbye to August and hello to the cooler temperatures ahead.
This year has been HELL. On some levels, I’ve made great strides and on other levels, I feel stuck, trapped, and genuinely unhappy. I look forward to new people, new achievements, new goals, new forms of happiness, new successes, and pretty much all things NEW. And while that means delving into my past and ridding myself of a lot of negativity, I am all right with that. I am all right with the hard labor that will involve, so long as it opens up a new, fresh chapter that can be lighter, fresher, and ultimately, happier. I don’t always like change when it’s forced upon me, as my recent changes have been, but I look forward to making lemon drop martinis out of the lemons I’ve been handed. If I look at it any differently, it will only continue to traumatize and harm me, so I am doing my best to place a positive spin on it, because to go in reverse is not how you move on to better things.
A lot of people in life settle. I’ve heard way too many people say they married someone “because they asked”, not “because I genuinely love him/her”, but “because they asked”. That’s not reason enough for me, or I would have been married in junior high school! Yes, that’s when the majority of my marriage proposals began, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
I may not believe in marriage at the moment, but I don’t ever want to settle for things I’m not happy with, or settle for someone who I don’t fully believe in. That’s like going to your favorite restaurant and ordering something off the menu that’s passable, but something you know won’t make you happy in terms of choice. Just thinking about it makes it sour in my mind. I won’t settle in any aspect of my life. Perhaps it’s why I am so challenging and difficult. I know who I am and what I’m capable of, and when people try to box me into their thought process or desire for me to be their vision of who I should be, I’m always going to rail against it. I don’t have to be perfect for anyone, I just have to be able to live with myself.
This month has taught me who is truly important in my life. As usual, the numbers diminish a little, and that’s okay. As people show you their true colors, you’re able to see everything and everyone a lot more clearly. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It may upset you or piss you off initially, but ultimately, assholes and idiots, on occasion, help you make big choices. Life is a labyrinth of learning. Knowledge is power, and I feel like people forget that sometimes.
I move into September focused on my health, on my brother’s health and helping him as much as humanly possible (I am in the process of setting the fundraiser up. A detailed post will accompany it for those who didn’t read my previous post about feeling like this was the right thing to do for him. If I wasn’t deeply concerned, I’d never do something like this, but I am.), and on trashing the old, keeping as many good memories as possible, and learning that not everything needs to be held on to forever.
We come into this world naked and crying. We leave this world alone, even if we are surrounded by loved ones. None of our worldly possessions can go with us, though I’ve seen many people try. So, take stock of your life and don’t forget to look after loved ones to the best of your ability. Sometimes it’s a struggle, but it would be far worse if you had to live with regrets for the things you did not do when you had the chance to be present.
If I didn’t have loved ones and responsibilities, I’d have checked out a long time ago. I will never lie about that, because it’s always in the back of my mind, but today, I am trying to focus on being rinsed clean of all the bullshit and drama.
Here’s to a new month! Goodbye, August. I am happy to see you go. Wishing you all blessings, good health, and happiness for the month ahead. 🙂
Hello everyone! I haven’t been around much of late, and for that I am sorry, even though I know apologies aren’t necessary.
I am dealing with a family crisis and quite frankly, I’ve lost my temper and I’m one of the most unpleasant people at the moment to deal with (not that I’m all that pleasant on other days ending in Y). I’m about 0.1 seconds from utterly snapping. I’d love to be able to blame that on PMS, but the truth is, my first reaction to things isn’t always the perfect reaction, which is why I like to step away from a lot of situations, if I can, before I react. When they say stress is the leading killer, whoever “they” are, they’re right. I thought I was going to have a stress-induced heart attack last night. 😦
After apologizing to the person I yelled at, I realized that I truly see the world differently than others. I’m not a “There are so many good people in the world.” kind of person. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at the world, even as a child, with that level of naiveté. I see evil walking around disguised as “people”, and on occasion you come across a few angels looking out for others, but on a whole, this world is not chock full of good in every direction one turns in. If it were merely me, I would keep on keeping on, but when it affects someone close to me; I go ape-shit.
For those who’ve asked: Yes, I did find my brother. He got in touch with me late Tuesday morning and explained what happened, as well as his nearly two-week absence. I would like to thank the Falls Township Police Department for their assistance and to the cop that assisted me personally, who was 100% nicer to me when I called to let him know I’d found my brother. His entire demeanor changed after that, and he told me to get in touch with him if I ever need anything in the future. That was a nice moment. Not many cops send you an e-mail and include all of their contact information in case you ever need something in the future. Major points were scored for that one.
On the downside, finding my brother “safe & sound”, sort of, didn’t even last a full three and a half days before something truly horrible happened, something I’ve been concerned about for months now. All I can do in this moment is be supportive and help him get medical care because his heart isn’t good, despite having had bypass surgery last year. He is in pre-kidney failure and requires a supplement to help it (I’m not 100% sure that even he knows what it does or doesn’t do. I just know that it’s expensive and he needs it.), and his insurance chose the absolute worst time to cut him off. He is now without much-needed medication (roughly 10-12 prescriptions that must be taken daily. He has already been without these drugs long enough for damage to re-occur.) that keep his heart functioning and other things at a normal rate. I have no idea when the insurance company will start paying for his care again. Because of this, I will be posting an online fundraiser ASAP for emergency assistance. Every penny will go towards his medication and doctors visits until he has insurance backing him again. Unfortunately, they’re not very speedy, it took several months for it to be processed last time, and despite reaching out to pharmaceutical companies and various charities, no one is willing to assist him with what he needs, mostly because, despite the older ones being generics, a lot of these medications add up. This is life or death. I don’t ask for myself, but I do ask that if you can help in any way, however large or small, it is going to someone who truly needs it. If the link doesn’t go up this week (My mind can barely concentrate on the paint on the wall, much less the logistics required for this sort of thing, so bear with me.) and you are able to contribute something immediately, I will provide you with the direct information if you leave a comment or e-mail me. If you require more information, just ask. I won’t violate his privacy, but I can elaborate for those who are afraid of being scammed (Unfortunately, this does happen and I am all too aware of it. I think that is disgusting, because so many people are truly in need. I’ve never understood the scamming mentality.). For my brother, I am willing to swallow my pride and ask for much-needed help.
And now, I am going to try catching some desperately needed rest because today really IS a Monday and I can’t afford to lay in bed all day. Naturally, I wish I had better things to say as well, but I’m doing my best.
I will be back soon, and hopefully get the fundraiser going the second my foggy brain allows it.
If you’ve never had a loved one go missing; you’re damn lucky. If you’ve never lost anyone close to you, especially a family member, you are luckier still.
I have spent most of my life watching family members leave this plane of existence for another. I’ve written too many eulogies and speeches not to feel the heavy emotion of deep loss. However, my brother’s mysterious, sudden disappearance is scarier than all of those losses combined. Mostly because, no one seems to have any answers, and the ones they do have are either asinine or terrifying.
People do not just disappear into thin air. Especially not people who are roughly six feet tall and armed. My brother has had to defend his life once before; and he sent the other person to the hospital after warning them NOT to come closer. If you’ve warned a person multiple times that you’re armed and they expect you to just stay put and take a beating, then they simply do not know that my brother & I weren’t raised to behave that way (No, he did NOT shoot anyone. I only wish he had.). If you come at me, I’ll come back harder. My brother is a gentle soul, but if you push him, you will likely get a beating. I keep telling him he’s too Zen for me, that I like my anger, and he keeps telling me to forgive people and pray for them. See what I mean?
It has been over a week of me not knowing where my brother is. The police in Pennsylvania threatened me with imprisonment and a fine if I am “filing a false missing persons report”. For one, I’d never do something like that and two, I expect to be taken seriously by anyone wearing a fucking badge when I call them with a legitimate issue. You can’t keep telling me “We don’t know your brother.”, because that’s got nothing to do with this particular situation. There’s a reason you don’t “know him”; he’s a good kid. He’s not out robbing banks and knocking over liquor stores. He’s only a pain in the ass if you’re his sister. He keeps to himself, minds his own business, but is cautious and aware of things most people are not.
My brother is smart, and by smart I mean MIT/Harvard kind of smart. His intelligence is mind-blowing to people because they’re expecting him to be silent muscle, or they’re simply not expecting his level of intelligence to go beyond one realm. He’s always been this knowledgeable little sponge. Sometimes I’m blown away by his ability to take things apart, put them back together (“No, I’ve never done this before.”), or explain something with such precision that it makes my head hurt. He is the exact opposite of me in that he is extremely likable. I have never heard anyone say they didn’t like him.
My brother & I are very close. We’ve had to be, because at the end of each day, all we have is each other. I know he has my back and he knows I have his. Ultimately, he is one of the only people I would willingly take a bullet for. Other people have, sadly, shown me their true colors as I deal with horrible situation.
For starters, I do NOT need to be lectured on what to do or how to do something. I’m a capable human-being. When I have to block a family member from contacting me because she sticks the knife in my back and keeps on twisting; under the guise of “caring” and “providing helpful information” (The fact that I didn’t say “FUCK YOU!” or “BITE ME!” is a testament to my reining my temper in at the last second.), that tells you a lot about who I deal with on a regular basis. A normal person wouldn’t say “Sorry to hear, sweetie.” I’m not sorry to say that if you say that to me, it makes me want to punch you in the face. I didn’t just break up with a boyfriend, you dumb cow. My brother is MISSING, it’s not something trivial! This person doesn’t even know my brother to say the things they did, but wouldn’t shut the fuck up. I finally had to say “All I really need right now is support. All you have managed to do is anger and enrage me, so I am stepping back until I can be a decent human-being.” I said that because the questions wouldn’t stop, and I let them know that enough is enough. This person was pushing the last of my buttons (How many times do you have to reiterate that you’re not okay?!), and doesn’t know when to stop in general. If you push me and you don’t stop, I will absolutely lose it on you. I didn’t do that. I respectfully backed out the best way I knew how, but this person made it all about them. When it’s one of your siblings, then we can discuss your hurt feelings, but until then, NO, the world does not revolve around you. It’s not about you, this isn’t even about me, but if you want to be supportive, don’t throw it back in someone’s face and say you’re sorry you bothered to inquire. My personal life is not a fucking newspaper.
If you don’t know my brother’s middle name, date of birth, place of birth, who is Godparents are, or anything unique about him, then you don’t get to ask me stupid fucking questions. And there is always a difference between someone who genuinely cares and someone who wants to gossip, just as there is a difference between people who pretend to care, but sleep just fine each night while you cry hysterically from worry. I know the difference based on how others behave. Pushing someone who is already hanging by a very fine thread is dangerous. But this person couldn’t respect me enough to back the fuck off. I’ve gone months without speaking to them before and I can go a year this time without batting an eyelash. I don’t need this kind of drama in my life when I’m dealing with a serious situation. Moreover, don’t Facebook message me or text me for “updates” unless you live in another country. Those are the only people who get a pass. Everyone else is fully capable of picking up a phone and saying what they need to say, without being passive-aggressive, or aggressive. It’s called compassion. Don’t claim to possess it if you do not actually utilize it.
I’m an extremely private person and I am waiting for more information before I do anything that I feel is invasive to my privacy, or my brother’s. There is always a proper and improper way to handle a situation. I’m handling things in a manner in which I feel is correct.
You can support me, say a prayer or a kind word, or get out of my way because at this moment, I am a ticking time bomb. My brother is OFF LIMITS. I don’t appreciate anyone making up conversations I never had with them. Focus on your own family problems, don’t stick your nose into mine.
My best friends both said “What do you need? I’ll do whatever it is you need to help.” and they live an ocean away. My “relatives” did not say that. Hell, most of my “friends” didn’t say that, either, but I don’t fault them. I fault the person who messaged me last night and came at me when I am already raw with emotion. She always accuses others of attacking her, but the fact of the matter is; she likes playing the role of victim. She doesn’t know any other role but the role of victim. In every situation, it somehow becomes all about her and her role as the victim once she’s pushed you to the point where you have to tell her to back off. I don’t have respect for that. Many of us carry childhood issues with us, but when you’re pushing 40, you need to work your therapy and stop playing the victim card with everyone. It’s the reason people don’t respond well to you and it’s the reason people don’t like you. It took me a few years to see the pattern, but now that I do, I’ve stopped allowing myself to be turned into the “great evil” for speaking the truth.
When someone is bleeding from head to toe, do you throw them into the Dead Sea? No, you don’t. Therein lies the problem here.
I can let some things go, I can forgive certain things and I can forget others, but when you constantly play the victim card with me, I question how valuable the relationship is. I also realize that some people self-sabotage to the point where they have no friends or loved ones to turn to. But there comes a time when you can no longer make excuses for them.
I’m just trying to get through this dark cloud hanging over me where my brother is concerned. I know full well that I am not some “great evil” for saying I am stepping away. If I’ve said nothing and every other thing you say is an attack (“Sweetie” does not soften a damn fucking thing. I’m not five.), then it is up to that person to know when to back off. If you always have to say something to back them off, that’s unhealthy. Being told I’M the unhealthy party is utterly laughable.
Sometimes, people forget who they’re talking to. They get too damn comfortable. They start thinking you’re exactly like them. They don’t realize that the silence from one day too many has hit you hard, and that saying nothing is better than talking shit.
It’s a damn good thing she wasn’t standing in front of me.
I called the police this morning to report my brother missing. I have been freaked out, in a terrible panic, since Friday morning. I cannot sleep, I’m having trouble functioning on all cylinders, and I’m concerned because it’s clear that no one gives a fuck but me.
Apparently to the cops, my reporting him missing means he is either A) a drug addict, B) an alcoholic, or C) Mad at me and avoiding me. No assholes, it’s D) None of the fucking above.
The last message I have from my brother is that he loved me, and would call or e-mail me later on in the day. At 3:46 a.m. on Friday; I’ve heard not a word since then. I’ve probably sent him 50 messages, if not more. He might ignore three or four, but there’s no way he’d go days without answering me or contacting me unless something horrible happened.
I suppose if you’re not close to a sibling, that might not bother you, but I am my brother’s rock. I’ve called every hospital I can think of, he’s not in any of them. The officer assisting me (and I’m going to use that term loosely for now) informed me that due to his health, he may have been moved to a hospital that will not admit to having him due to HIPAA violations. He said he could go down there, but that not only won’t they admit if they have him or not to the police, even if they had a warrant, but they also have the right to keep people there for anywhere from 5-120 days, by law. That only made it worse for me, hearing those words. I am his emergency contact, I feel it is my right to know where the hell he is if you’re holding him for ANY fucking reason.
My brother is not a danger to others or himself. He’s much more apt to help a person than he is to harm them. He’s a caring soul, despite all the harm that he has been subjected to. I am praying to all that is Holy that I do hear from him soon. I cannot track him via his phone or social media (though I did post to his Facebook wall that he’s missing; in case a friend comes across it and knows where he is.). I called the last friend I know he’d been in touch with, but I don’t have contact info for many others. I will keep calling this friend until I find out whether or not he has seen him, because I know for a fact they spoke Thursday.
I won’t lie; I’m afraid I will soon be writing a eulogy. Or worse. that he will never be found.
If I find out that someone has hurt him, I solemnly swear to hunt them down like a lion hunts a wildebeest and tear their organs out slowly.
I am trying to be strong here, but sometimes even the strong have a breaking point.
My brother was rushed into emergency surgery Saturday. I spent most of the day stressed out, upset, trying to reach him. Most of my text messages sounded frantic, but that’s precisely how I felt.
I already knew he was in the hospital, but I’m used to hearing from him semi-regularly, so when I go nearly 24 hours without contact, I do start to worry. A lot. Even when I’m mad at him, I still keep him apprised of things, and vice versa.
This past month I’ve learned a lot about the people in my life. I never knew my brother was “ride or die” for me until all this horrible shit happened where it affected us both as a family unit. People are placing limitations on something you give freely; love. That is the exact opposite of who I am and how I was raised to be. I refuse to allow other people’s interpretations of life, love, etc., change the core of who I am. All I can do is pray for them, because they seemingly need more help and healing than I do. 😦
My brother has endured a quadruple bypass, of which he’s still not fully recovered. He has been in and out of the hospital for months due to various complications and illness. The surgery on his wrist was a matter of life and death, and I am incredibly grateful to the OR nurse he met Friday evening who told him something wasn’t right with his wrist and that he needed to get to the ER pronto. She even recommended the hospital where she works, and that’s exactly where he went. Without question, her intervention saved his life because he thought it was something else and was simply going to take some Aleve for the pain and swelling. He would be dead if not for her speaking up in a public place and me yelling at him when he sent me photos of how bad it looked. I told him it looked really bad and that he needed to go the ER immediately. Who does he see up in entering the OR the following day? The very same nurse. She looked at him, trying to place his face, and finally said “Didn’t I see you a few hours ago?” There are Earth Angels out there and I am grateful to anyone who is looking out for my brother in such a manner.
Surgery #2 is tomorrow, with potential for a 3rd or even 4th operation as the week progresses. The surgeon told him, point-blank, that if he’d waited another day, he would have lost half of his arm to infection. Just hearing that this evening made me sick to my stomach. He’s attacking the infection to the best of his ability because he doesn’t want my brother to lose his hand and wrist.
I thank the hospital in Bucks County, PA that is taking such good care of him. I’m far more freaked out about this surgery than I was the heart surgery, because with his heart, they kept telling me he was young and his chances of survival were high. But with a superbug? It’s terrifying to hear “We don’t know how you got this or where it came from. All we can do is attack it with everything we’ve got, be proactive, and hope & pray for the best.”
So if you’re sitting and thinking about how rough your week is about to be, please keep my brother in your prayers. I’ve lost so much already. I cannot afford to lose my brother too.
Hi everyone! I know this isn’t a typical visiting experience at the moment, but I assure you I am doing my best.
When you’re caring for a post-op heart patient, every single day blends into the one before. I likely wouldn’t know it was Monday if I hadn’t intentionally bypassed Friday and Saturday’s normal routine of running errands, only to overdo it yesterday. I have spent a lot of time putting off every aspect of my life to dispense medication at regular intervals, to pour drinks (apparently I close everything very tightly, who knew?), and coax Patient X to eat a few times a day. These may seem like simple tasks, and they are, but if I leave the room for 45 minutes, sometimes less, I hear a tiny voice asking “Are you hiding from me? Am I making you sick?” That’s if I listen for it.
The fact of the matter is: I like silence and privacy. In fact, I crave these things. I don’t like being up ’til 3:00 a.m. unless it is my choice to do so. I don’t like sitting on the couch for 4-8 hours a day in order to keep someone entertained, because while the TV is clearly on in order to “entertain”, I can’t watch anything I truly want to see (I spent an hour in my room late Saturday night watching an episode of a show that ends in a few weeks because I can’t do so downstairs; some asshole didn’t want to see it and despite the fact that it’s my remote, it’s not worth it.). I find myself looking down at my phone a LOT, and no matter what I do to try to be in bed by 10:30 each night, I cannot sleep.
If you have any experience with a cardiac life-saving device called “Life Vest”, you know that this device can go off for any reason, even while changing the battery. Thursday morning the piercing sound threw me out of bed in its utter alarm, and I went flying down the stairs to make sure he was alive and conscious. He later told me I shouldn’t have panicked; the device has a 100% success rate at reviving someone if anything should go wrong. It’s intended purpose is to shock you back to life if need be, and it can probably be heard down the street. Mind you, from the second they put it on him, he has complained that it’s the equivalent of a “male bra”. It does sort of look like a sports bra and it looks uncomfortable because there’s so much to it, so I’ve had to listen to it go off several times over the last week. I tried sleeping through it Friday morning, as it was still dark. Saturday it went off in the early evening hours, but it was still annoying as all hell to hear the sound out of nowhere. Not as annoying as someone dying in my presence (No thanks, I’ll pass.), but it’s simply that noise itself does not agree with this chronic sufferer of migraines.
Certain types of noise are triggers and unfortunately, I never know what will cause a migraine. I only recently switched up my medication, but I did have a very long stretch over the last few weeks where one migraine lasted over a week. I had no choice but to ride it out. 😦
Today, I hurt from my neck to my toes. There’s not a part of my body that doesn’t feel bruised and battered. Okay, there are a few parts that are okay, but that’s about it.
Thanksgiving in the U.S. is this Thursday. In my last-minute prep attempt, I decided what to make and bought everything yesterday. I am grateful that no one in their right mind thinks it’s acceptable for me to make an entire turkey for two people. I cannot fathom tackling that at the moment. Every turkey I so much as glanced at was over 20 pounds, but since they were frozen solid on top of that, who knows how much they actually weighed. I found something small that will fit the bill. I don’t expect it to last more than two days, which is perfect. Wednesday I will make the stuffing in advance (Let’s face it, I will be eating stuffing Wednesday night. I am addicted.) so that I don’t have to cook for hours on Thursday. Patient X is on a little-to-no salt, low-fat diet. I’ve already broken multiple health rules in order to get him to eat. I’m making a small amount for him with as little sodium as possible. He has told me for nearly a week now that everything I’ve made is “full of flavor”. Apparently that is the component missing in all hospital food. I can safely make sure that the rest of the stuffing actually tastes like something though (Yay!). I’m contemplating a citrus base for the main course. If only I had known in advance that I’d have a sudden craving for mashed potatoes, I would have also put that into consideration because apparently this is a carb kind of week. I still might make them, at the last-minute, providing I have a medication run to use as an “excuse” to do it. As things stand now, I might very well need to get another pie too. While completely unnecessary, it does make Patient X happy. Personally I don’t want vegetables made into pie, but perhaps that’s the American in me. Pie should be something enjoyable if you’re going to have it at all.
I am exhausted, in a lot of pain, caring for someone I normally can’t tolerate for more than short periods of time, and I still have my real life going on amidst all that. I’ve shelved as much as I can for the remainder of the year, but there is still much to do. The last thing I can even bother to think about at the moment are the truly stupid things in life. Wow, that statement covers so much…perhaps one day I will write about it. Hell, I’m lucky I remembered to pay my bills this month with all that’s going on! 😦
I hate the holiday season. It is a constant reminder that I am alone in this world, that my family is gone, and that those who are still alive (minus a few people) are horrible human-beings.
Despite amazing friends and loved ones, despite the adorable sweetness of Cat and Kitten, the holidays suck for me. I did get some nice gifts in advance of Chanukah (Shout out to my awesome Aunt.) and two belated birthday gifts (Again, my Aunt, but also a fabulous necklace from Sweet Blossom Giftsthat I adore. If you’re going to be shopping on-line this year and you want something personalized and unique, I highly recommend them. They have everything from coffee mugs and pillows to jewelry. I can say for a fact that the jewelry is stunning in person and their prices are very reasonable.) that were such a lovely surprise (If you know the name of one of my favorite stores, you know I will be hitting up the post-holiday sale.), but I won’t be gift-giving this year. Things are simply too stressful and I have absolutely no time to do it. I barely know my name, the last place I need to be is a store. I also lack the desire to do anything for anyone over the age of five. Everyone knows they’re in my heart and that I am there for them 24/7. They don’t need expensive gifts to remind them of that fact. Sometimes, people truly just want to be thought of in a positive way. I’d rather someone send me a card and tell me something of value as opposed to forcing themselves into stores and not taking the time to enjoy the season itself. Those are precious moments. Actions are just as important as words.
I am trying, with all of my might, to get through the remainder of the year with my head firmly on my shoulders. Patient X has a long road to recovery (If one more person tells me he will be chopping tress down in six months, I will hit them. For starters, he’s never chopped a tree in his life, so I highly doubt he’s going to take that up once he’s healed.) and while he is indeed healing (there’s been remarkable improvement this week), he is also weak and will definitely require physical therapy. His vocal cords are still pretty bad, but hopefully I will know more after his first post-op appointment after Thanksgiving. The fact that I’ll be able to force him off of my couch and into the fresh air, albeit cold, for several hours almost makes me giddy. The not so giddy part is that I do have to go with him, otherwise I won’t know precisely what the doctor says. Let’s just say that the anesthesia that was used has some side effects and there are parts of his memory that simply aren’t there at the moment, which is quite scary for me to hear, but scarier for him because he knows he should know these things and keeps wondering why his brain is foggy and he can’t form coherent thoughts or access his memories. If ever I find that anesthesiologist, I might have to sit him down and explain certain things to him in thinly veiled threats. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to do it and I’m certain it won’t be the last.
If you’re celebrating this week, I wish you a wonderful, happy, and safe holiday. If you’re not, I wish you were coming to my house so I could cook for you. 😉
Be safe on Black Friday. It’s a fucking jungle of psychosis fueled by insane amounts of caffeine. I will be as far away from the madness as possible. Of course, I will still have someone hogging my TV and eating my food. If you see a good-looking man being auctioned off on eBay, I assure you I’m the seller. LOL.
Patient X is being released into my care this evening after major surgery at the beginning of the month. Discharge was repeatedly delayed by post-op illness and absolute idiocy on the part of doctors arguing over proper procedure. It took them nearly a week to discover that he had not one, but two separate infections. Thank G-d for Infectious Disease Specialists who put their foot down. #Respect Of course, the fact that I called the head of the hospital and informed them that discharging a cardiac patient with an infection is grounds for a lawsuit might very well have secured his bed for an additional three days. For the record, I try never to use the word “lawsuit”, except when it pertains to protecting my family’s health, their rights, or rights in general that may be in a violation type of situation. I know people who throw the word around way too often for no reason. It shouldn’t be used lightly.
I’m nervous about taking care of him for eight weeks (twelve if there are any setbacks) while he isn’t allowed to drive or do much, except the most basic things. For the next two months, the heaviest thing he can lift is a gallon of milk. In 4-6 weeks, longer if insurance delays it, he is supposed to have a second procedure done to ensure that his heart returns to 100% in terms of function. It’s a procedure that should only take a few days. The surgeon informed me that one or more procedures may need to be re-done in 25 years. However, this surgery has given my brother a new lease on life. Never before this absolute wake-up call would he have agreed to quit smoking or make healthier choices in regard to his health. It is sad that it had to come to something so severe, but I am determined to do what I can to make sure he heals properly and adheres to this new “heart healthy” lifestyle. It’s a serious change, but if he wants to live longer than either of our parents did (the situations were, obviously, quite different), then he is going to have to do his level best to commit.
Open heart surgery is rough. I would not wish this on my worst enemy. Hearing him struggle to breathe, cough, and move makes me ill. Knowing that his vocal cords need additional time to heal, along with his heart and wounds, just plain saddens me. That a single soul would tell me to leave for my move and let him recover alone pisses me off. I thank G-d this happened when I was physically in a position to do something to help and was not hundreds or thousands of miles away. In a situation like this, you do not want to get the dreaded phone call. Every time the phone rings and it’s the hospital, I get ill. Once he is released to me as a “patient”, he probably won’t be too thrilled, but he has already said he’s just so happy to be alive that he doesn’t care what I say or do. We’ll see how long that lasts.
I am sure I will utterly lose my head when I find out the total of the roughly fifteen prescriptions he’s going to have to take, only some of which are for the next six months. His surgeon assured him that nearly everything was cheap because they’re generics, but someone ought to clue the doctor in that even Walmart has a list of medications that are on their list of drugs they’ll cover for $4-$10, based on the number of pills and how long it’s prescribed for, but that the others are nowhere near the word “cheap”. The cost of medication in this country is utterly insane, but it’s right up there with the cost of healthcare, one of the biggest rackets on the planet. There is no possible way not to get a headache dealing with the drama.
Over the weekend I received the first bill for two separate tests they ran when he was admitted last month. The physicians who billed will have to whistle Dixie while dead before they see a penny from me. Process that shit to the insurance company, don’t send it to a third-party who isn’t a legal guardian. I am not allowed to stress out Patient X, lest he tear something inside his chest, so I haven’t told him about the bill. I won’t be telling him about any that come. I’m just going to get on the phone quietly and handle what needs to be handled. If you hear about me on the news, don’t be surprised.
As of this evening I will start accepting all gifts of alcohol (or dark chocolate) because I am almost certain my new “water bottle” is going to have vodka in it the second he whines or complains about anything I do. He texted me this morning to make sure his ginger ale would be “ice cold” for his arrival. Tomorrow I get to make Jello and pudding, like a proper little Real Housewife from Hell. 😛 If I get hit by a vehicle this week, it may or may not have been of my own volition. On a good day, there’s only so much bullshit I can take. On a bad day, well, you don’t want to know what I’m like on a bad day.
In preparation for all the fun I’m about to have tonight, and in the weeks to follow, I may or may not attempt to drown myself in the shower. But first, I need to find Cat and Kitten and get some unconditional love. I open their cans; they know where their bread is buttered. LOL. Is it too late for a straitjacket?
I had a major meltdown Monday. I can’t recall the last time I felt that alone, that isolated from my friends & family, or that upset. I’m certain it’s happened before, but Monday was simply too much, too soon, and way too intensely upsetting. I vividly remember scrolling through my contacts list at one point, and realizing that I could not call a single soul in it. I reasoned that I didn’t want to bother anyone at work. It was quite sobering.
When a strong woman says “I’m tired of being strong.”, it’s honest. When a strong woman says “I feel broken.”, that too is honest. But when a strong woman seeks help so that she does not harm herself, knowing the potential is there, and gets told “There’s a nine month waiting list to be seen.” or “We’re booked solid until January, so you should go to your nearest emergency room.”, it is astounding.
When you go to the emergency room with a mental health crisis of any kind, it is my experience that you will not be taken seriously unless you’re bleeding or have overdosed and were brought in on a stretcher. Does it really have to come down to that? I think it is a horrible approach and I wonder how many other people have experienced this.
If a mother can go to a police station, fire house, rescue squad, or hospital, and legally surrender an infant (Known as the Safe Haven Law) without fear of being deemed a criminal for child abandonment, then I should be able to go into any medical establishment and say “I am worried for myself, I need help.” without fear of judgment or criticism, or being mistreated. Instead, I spent several days talking to my insurance company, who are utterly useless, trying to find a way to get immediate care. But no such place exists without an extensive waiting list. They just keep telling me to go to the emergency room. I didn’t break my leg, this is not an emergency room situation unless I have hurt myself or someone else. G-d forbid!
I don’t need to be hospitalized. I know that, and so do the few people who support me, but do I need additional support and someone to talk to? Yes. I reached out to my psychiatrist for a prescription, asking whether or not I should go back on medicine I already have or medicine I used to take, the latter of which would require him to call a prescription into the pharmacy for me. Unfortunately, medication is always very tricky, and side effects are generally the reason I stop taking them. That, or the fact that they don’t make me feel better. I can’t function when I’m deathly ill from side effects or I can’t physically get out of bed from the drowsiness certain medications provide at even a low dose. I have yet to meet one that truly works without making things worse.
It’s almost 2016, and there are still so many people ashamed to talk about their use of antidepressants or anti-anxiety medication during difficult times in their life, or daily to manage very real issues that aren’t their fault to begin with. I would be far more embarrassed pretending I was okay when I am not. Suffering in silence makes the suffering one hundred times worse than it is if you simply reach out to someone and ask for help. But here I am, and there’s no one willing to help. It’s like being outside in -50 degree temperatures and having someone throw ice water at you. It is also incredibly hurtful and insulting.
The past few years have taken an immense toll on me, I’d never deny that, but the last two and a half weeks have been like bleeding to death slowly. And yet, as I sit here with a cold that came out of nowhere, I find myself unable to handle answering the phone or responding to a text message (I wish I could say they were simple, but they’re not. I currently have the Do Not Disturb feature on because listening to my phone vibrate all day is getting to me.). I’ve reached a point where too many people want immensely large pieces of me, but none of them are willing to grant me so much as an inch of kindness, compassion, or understanding. I take a few days to take care of myself and get told I’m horribly selfish, which is the exact opposite of who I am. I’m considering the asinine source before buying into such nonsense. Sometimes employing a “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that” filter is a good idea.
I am the first person to say that it’s important to advocate for your own mental health, and your overall health in general. It’s important to question everything, especially when you aren’t receiving legitimate answers. I also feel it is important to take ownership of your own crap. That being said, I feel like this particular situation is what’s affecting me and making me physically ill. It’s not depression in a traditional way, it is the situation causing how I feel, but it is still difficult and I’d prefer to be prepared for anything more that comes at me, as opposed to pretending nothing affects me. I’m human, and it’s not a crime.
I might not have been in a good mood to begin with, but come on, this has merit.
I got home late from the hospital Monday night. They keep the rooms outrageously hot in that particular part of the hospital. I kept putting eye drops in to counteract the heat drying my eyes out, and I kept disinfecting things because every other person was coughing or sneezing. I already knew I had something in my system, but now it’s affecting my head and chest. For a period of time yesterday, my voice was but a whisper. All I was capable of doing was sitting and today hasn’t been much better, except that I have my voice back and have been able to do a few things in and out of the house. My head feels like there are multiple hot pokers stuck in different directions, my sinuses are killing me, and my eyes and throat hurt like hell. The weather, all dark and grey, complete with rain, is only adding to the pressure in my skull. I find it insulting to get sick when I am already dealing with enough insanity.
My brother is still in the hospital. They wanted to discharge him on Monday, but his blood oxygen levels weren’t good and they were talking about doing another procedure before discharging him. By Tuesday, his levels were almost 100% improved, the second procedure was determined to be okay a month post-op, but not now. There was also a major snafu when one of his surgeons discovered a potential infection on an x-ray. He wasn’t sure what it was, but wanted to run some tests to figure it out. They have since discovered that he indeed has infection, but they aren’t 100% sure where or what it is. He’s been saying he “feels hot” since last week. They kept telling him his vitals were good and it was merely a side effect of the anesthesia and medication. Last night, the nurses argued once they discovered he had a high fever, because apparently the two nurses prior to the shift change failed to report that he had one at all. His primary surgeon was called at home around midnight and was, quite obviously, very concerned. He ordered a laundry list of tests, some of which were performed immediately after the phone call, and others were done earlier on, with a few more ordered for later today. My brother, in perfectly dramatic fashion, blamed me for this. It is, naturally, all my fault. How could it not be?! Lord knows I walk around with a veritable petri dish just waiting to unleash it on my own flesh & blood. <rolls eyes>
I’d like to blame that psychotic comment on his medication, but I have no idea where he gets the idea that I’m some kind of monster trying to keep him in the hospital (If I was, he’d be chained to a bed in a mental hospital.). Because I’m honest? Because I’m direct? Because I don’t coddle him? No matter what I say or do, I am wrong. It’s like being married, except this isn’t Arkansas (That was a snarky comment, not a statement of fact, lest someone become offended and lack the ability to decipher my sense of humor.).
Quite frankly, I’d like him to recover in someone else’s home, tormenting them. If I hear about his dietary restrictions one more time, he’ll be lucky to get a loaf of bread and a gallon of water each week upon being released into my “care”. I offered to bring him something when I go back to the hospital and was told I “can’t be obvious about it” because I brought him a request Monday and apparently someone asked how he got it or something along those lines. I didn’t know I was committing some evil act by trying to do something nice. He’s a grown man, what am I supposed to do, bring him a teddy bear?! His vocal cords are healing (If you watch Chicago P.D., I can tell you that, at the moment, he sounds a lot like Jason Beghe.) at a slow rate, so I’ve made an effort, but all he does is piss me off with the unappreciativeness. I don’t have a lot of patience to begin with, so insulting me is not the way to get what you want or need.
People don’t rely on me for compassion, they rely on me to get the difficult shit done. I realize he feels he deserves some kind of “compassion pass” at the moment, but I don’t have it in me to change the core of who I am. I handle and face situations, but I’m not going to be someone I’m not, regardless of what a situation may be. In life, there’s no room for sugar-coating, and I certainly don’t expect people to do it for me either. Deliver the facts, I will deliver solutions, but don’t play games with me. It can seem cold and dispassionate to people, but I am actually quite passionate. If I wasn’t passionate, I wouldn’t do a damn thing for anyone. I would absolutely be selfish and self-centered, but I’m not. Sometimes when people are going through something difficult, they imprint their issues onto you, because their coping mechanisms aren’t strong enough to hold them together emotionally.
Ultimately, medication or not, I know who I am. This week has been a bad situation and it upset me to an ugly point, but my survival and success rate are 100%. I’m not going anywhere.
I can safely make sure that the rest of the stuffing actually tastes like something though (Yay!). I’m contemplating a citrus base for the main course. If only I had known in advance that I’d have a sudden craving for mashed potatoes, I would have also put that into consideration because apparently this is a carb kind of week. I still might make them, at the last-minute, providing I have a medication run to use as an “excuse” to do it. As things stand now, I might very well need to get another pie too. While completely unnecessary, it does make Patient X happy. Personally I don’t want vegetables made into pie, but perhaps that’s the American in me. Pie should be something enjoyable if you’re going to have it at all.
Written by LISA MARINO-Molchanova 