Posted in Blogging, His Days (about the husband), Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, Stories of my life, writing

Learning Compassion (again)

As some of my reader’s and friends already know my husband passed away on August 17th, 2019. I miss him every single day.

This is something I wrote in 2015 about him and me and learning compassion. Not only for him but for me also. It’s something I’m still working on. The compassion part for me.

I will eventually come back to blogging. I just don’t know when. Thank you for sticking around.

oldmansil

 

I watch him out of the corner of my eye as I do the daily dishes. I’m worried about him, as he hasn’t eaten in a couple of days. He has hardly moved from his bed in the same amount of time.

I know I can’t nag him to eat. I’ve tried that in the past and it just makes us both miserable. I feel bad because the other day he asked for something special to eat and I had to tell him no. Not because I wouldn’t cook it because we had no money to buy it to cook. He didn’t seem to understand when I explained it to him.

He doesn’t understand lots of things now. It saddens me, but I have learned not to let it linger in my mind. It’s not his fault. It’s the fault of his medications. The strong pain pills he takes several times a day. They have robbed him of his sharp mind like the pain has robbed him of his appetite, his focus, his ability to function like he used to.

When we moved into this 30-year-old mobile home almost 2 years ago. We decided to put his twin size bed in the living room. He loves his TV, but the couch was too uncomfortable for him to lay on all day. So we got rid of the old loveseat and put in a twin bed we got for free. It has worked out well. The TV gives him something to do.

I watch him as I do the dishes. I see the deep furrows of pain on his face. I wish I could do something more for him but I know I can’t. Soon his afternoon pills will take effect, his eyes will gloss over, the furrows won’t be quite so deep. For a little while.

I finish the last dish, put it in the dish rack to air dry, wipe my hands and make myself another cup of coffee. I’ve been in the kitchen for 45 minutes and not a word was spoken between him and I. Just the sound of the TV going and the clink of dishes being cleaned.

I walk down the hall to my office and sit down with my coffee cup in hand. Taking small sips, I think about the last time we spoke to each other. Was it yesterday? Or the day before? I lay my head back and close my eyes. We don’t speak much anymore. I’ve learned to accept it. As I’ve learned to accept a lot of things in the last few years.

I could sink into a pool of self-pity, but why? It’s not his fault he became disabled, so racked with pain that taking a simple shower has to be planned ahead of time, just so the pain will be somewhat manageable.

I could rage at the universe and cry an ocean of tears. Again, why? The universe is not to blame for the circumstances that made us lose our home and come to live in a broken-down trailer. It’s a roof over our heads and heat in the winter.

I could rail against it all. I have in the past, I won’t lie about that. I’m human, with faults. So, I railed against something him and I had no control over. I cried, I felt sorry for myself. Worse of all, I wanted to leave. I wanted to run away from the pain. His pain and mine. I wanted to run fast and as far as I could. Halfway across the world.

I didn’t run. I couldn’t run. I won’t run.

Instead, I learned compassion. Compassion for him. He doesn’t want to be in this much pain. Every single day, every single minute, to live in pain. Who would want that? So I find my compassion for him. My patience. My desire to help ease his suffering if I can. Which I can’t.

I can only help him suffer less. I will settle for that.

I have also learned to have compassion for myself. That was the hardest part. To be gentle with myself as much as I am gentle with him. I make mistakes, I lose my temper, I get frustrated, I get depressed. It’s ok to feel all these things. I will NOT beat myself up over having these feelings because they never last. I can’t let them. I won’t let them. I feel them and then I let them go without the guilt.

I open my eyes, sip my coffee and keep an ear out for him as I face my computer and do what I know I’m good at. Writing words.

I write the words I cannot speak out loud. I write the words that my soul feels. I write the words that I have learned. I write my heart. That’s how I learn compassion all over again.

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, His Days (about the husband), Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction

Life’s Little Ups and Downs

 

 

 

It’s hard to believe it’s been over a month since I posted anything. A part of me is so let down, another part just doesn’t care. I’m nothing if not honest, especially with myself. It’s not like I haven’t been around, I have. I visit some of my favorite blogs, I talk to some of my favorite people. I’m still here. I just haven’t been writing.

As for the personal side of things, well, it could be worse I guess. The husband is slowly on the mend from his stroke in late October. He’s been to so many specialists that I’ve lost count of them all. His mind is much clearer with different pain medications. So, for now, he is on the upswing. He had his 65th birthday on February 4th. Sad thing….his mother died on his birthday. She had dementia for the last few years of her life and didn’t know anyone at the end, but she was surrounded with family when she passed and I guess that’s all anyone can hope for.

The winter here has been snowy and cold and longer than usual it seems to me. Or, I’m just getting old and can’t handle it like I used to. I long for warmer weather and summer breezes. Today we’ve had freezing rain, sleet and now snow. Yeah, I’m so over winter.

To say I haven’t been writing is kind of a lie. Sorry about that. I have been writing, just not on here. I’m working on a new story and I’ve promised my best friend, Maddie that I was going to send it to her first to read and critique. I’m so rusty now that I want to make sure it’s ok before I post it here. So yes, I am writing, kind of. It’s a hit and miss kind of thing lately. Some days I write, some days I don’t.

Mostly my problem is I’m so damn tired. This time change stuff doesn’t help me either. I hate when they have daylight savings time. It messes my sleep up and I don’t need any more help with that.

I thought at one point of closing this blog down. I’ve been blogging for almost six years now and maybe I’ve run out of things to say or do on here. But, it’s obvious I haven’t shut it down. I can’t. I love the community here in blog land. I love knowing I’ve had this blog for so long. No, it’s not earth-shattering stuff on here. I’m not political.  I don’t write deep, meaningful essays. But, I love it. I love the people I’ve met. I love the challenges. So, I’m keeping it. I’m hoping to get back into blogging more often and I appreciate everyone who has stuck with me thus far.

Life might be hard sometimes, it might be damn hard a few times but it’s my life and I’ll keep going for as long as I can. I’ll keep posting things. I’ll keep appreciating all the comments and friends I’ve made here. I’ll keep living life’s little ups and downs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, His Days (about the husband), Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, writing

End of the Year Rant/Talk/Catch-Up/Something or Other

Hello, People! Yes, it’s really me. Been a while I know. I haven’t posted anything since November 9th. I think in the five or so years of blogging this is the longest I’ve gone without posting a thing.

Honestly, I just didn’t have the energy or want to. I felt/feel drained. Totally used up. It’s not a pleasant feeling.

It’s been a hard year, hell, it’s been a hard couple of years. No one’s fault. Just the way life is.

I find myself moody lately, my temper easily set off. I’m not a pleasant person to be around right now. Just ask the husband. I snap at him and everyone else. I’m super sarcastic and just awful, to tell the truth. Hell, I don’t even like myself.

I’m tired of life giving me the finger. I’m tired of dealing with one crisis after another. I’m tired of NOT writing. I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of having to make all the decisions and deal with the repercussions of my decisions. I’m tired of dealing with people who treat me like I’m an idiot just because I’m old, a woman, short and fat or whatever reason.

I’m tired of some people treating me and the husband like we are lepers and have something they might catch just because the husband had a stroke and lost his hearing aids and can’t hear very good. Yes, he had a stroke. Yes, he gets confused sometimes, yes he walks bent over like an old man, yes, he repeats himself……a lot. Yes, he’s sick and his next stroke might be his last. And ok, maybe you don’t like me personally. I’m fine with that. You don’t have to like me. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.

BUT……he’s still alive, he’s still talking, eating, walking, carrying on conversations (limited I know but still doing it). Yet he gets ignored and left alone and there is nothing I can do about it. I realize people have their own lives to live. That is no reason to forget about someone who is supposed to be a friend or relative.

I just don’t understand people. Maybe that’s why I don’t like most people.

Whew! That was quite a rant. I have felt it boiling up in me for weeks. Maybe I’ll feel better now that I’ve ‘blown’ so to speak. Maybe not.

Now that my rant is out of the way. And no, I’m not apologizing for it. It is how I feel. I don’t tell people how I REALLY feel often enough. That might change.

As for the husband. He’s still weak. Still can’t use his right hand. But, he does seem to be getting stronger. God knows he’s more stubborn. Some days are good and he can carry on conversations and stay with it. Some days not so much. Some days he’s super argumentative. Some days happy and joking around like he used to. It’s a bit of a roller coaster ride.

As for this blog. I’m continuing it. I’ll be writing more (fingers crossed). I’m not sure what I will be writing. I’m hoping more stories, more fiction, more poetry (even bad poetry) and fewer rants and raves.

I’m needing to get back to writing. It helps ground me.

I’m not trying to find the old me. She’s gone. Like the past year, gone forever. I am looking to find the new me. The one that is a bit wiser. A bit more settled. A bit happier.

I want to thank all my friends who have asked after me. Asked about the husband. And never judge.

I want to thank all the readers who no matter how erratic my posting was, read what I wrote.

I want to thank everyone who will be back again next year to help me grow into a better person, friend, and writer. It’s good to have you with me.

Happy New Year’s Everyone!

 

 

Posted in His Days (about the husband), Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction

Sam The Wonder Dog ~~~ An Update on the Husband

Hello Folks!

You’re probably wondering about the title of this post, eh? I know it’s kind of strange but all will become clear soon.

 

As many of you know, my husband had a stroke about three weeks ago. After battling cancer and a bad back, now this. He’s had a rough five or six years. He’s one tough man. Although I think he’s met his match this time.

The stroke left his right arm and hand almost useless. Which for him is very frustrating as it’s, of course, his prominent hand. At the best of times, this is a man with very little patience. Now, oh boy, he’s frustrated as hell.

We learned when he was in the hospital that this is actually his third stroke. He has had two prior ones we didn’t know about. This last one also occurred in the exact same some spot of the brain as the last one. I don’t know how that works on the brain with strokes but it was my understanding this one on top of the other is not that common.

Leave it to him to be different.

It’s also usual to have a stroke and then have the opposite side of your body affected. Again, the husband has to be different. The strokes all happened to his right side of the brain and affected the RIGHT side of his body. Most unusual.

I’ve noticed some changes in his personality since the stroke. I would guess this is normal. They are a bit subtle but there nonetheless. After his stroke, the doctors changed his pain meds. He was taking oxycodone. Now he’s on Hydromorphone which is derivative of morphine. It actually seems to work better for him.

When I brought him home last Friday I thought I could handle it. I figured it wasn’t going to be much different from what it normally is. I had to do pretty much everything then, I figured how much can it change? Oh, how naive I was!

I have to dress him, help him eat (usually just cut up big pieces for him) and other, personal things. I won’t go into detail. Just let’s say his personal space is no more. Sigh.

It’s damn hard. On me, mostly. Especially when he falls, which he has done three times last week. The most recent one was this morning. At 3 am, I finally broke down and called 911 as I knew there was no way I could get him up off the floor by myself. He fell outside the bathroom which is a narrow hallway. He is too weak to help much. His legs don’t want to work right and without his one hand and arm, well forget it. He wasn’t getting up.

The other times he was in the living room and I could maneuver his walker to him so between the walker and me we got him up. That was not going to work this morning.

This is where Sam, the wonder dog comes in. Now, Sam is just a little guy. Weighing in at about nine pounds, ten at the most. He sleeps with me in my bedroom, always has. My bedroom is on one end of the house. I keep my door closed as I can’t sleep if I hear the tv. Which for the husband has to be on 24/7. I also have to sleep in a cold room with a fan going.

Sam, the art of a loyal buddy (c) JLPhillips 2013

The husband has a bed in the living room. Which is right next to my bedroom. Unfortunately, I still cannot hear him if he falls. Sam lets me know when the husband falls. Which is strange because the husband has fallen before he had the stroke and Sam never let me know. But now, he wakes me up. I think he realizes it’s more important now then it was before. As before the husband could usually get back up himself and him falling happened rarely.

Even when he fell in the hallway this morning, Sam woke me up. He is my little hero. I walked out to the living room and noticed that the husband’s bed was empty. Sam took off to the hallway so I knew to follow and that’s where I found the husband. Poor man, he’s kind of banged up on this one. He has a cut over one eye and bruises.

He managed to take his walker to the bathroom but for some reason decided to try to get back to bed without it. Didn’t work well. Down he went. He doesn’t remember how long he was on the floor, just knew it had been a while.

There is, however, a tiny little ray of hope in all this. I believe I have found the main reason he has been falling. It only happens in the middle of the night. And only when he takes two sleeping pills. So……I did a little experiment this past week. For a couple of nights, I only gave him one sleeping pill. (Much to his disgust). Those nights he DIDN’T fall. He managed to get up, go the bathroom and get back to bed in one piece. Last night he insisted I give him two sleeping pills. He fell.

No more two sleeping pills a night. I even talked to the home nurse yesterday and she agreed with me, that it was possibly the sleeping pills that are making him fall. As far as I’m concerned, last night proved my theory.

My gut told me this was the case, I always listen to my gut.

So this has been our life lately.

As for me, personally. I’m tired. I’m more than tired. I’m exhausted. But, I will go on and do what I must because no one else is going to do it for me. The husband is a good man, whose had a bad run of luck on his health. I will be there for him.

That’s the least I can do.

As for Sam, he got an extra treat today. Good boy, Sam!

 

 

 

 

Posted in His Days (about the husband), Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction

Why I’ve Been So Quiet Lately

 

Hello People. Hope your end of the week is a good one.

Why I’ve been so quiet on here lately is not good. I wish it was good news but it’s not. The husband had a stroke. Yeah, it’s been the shits. He hadn’t been feeling well since Thanksgiving (Canada’s Thanksgiving). For a few days, he was confused and disoriented. I should have taken him to the doctor then but he refused to go.

Sunday night I couldn’t rouse him from his sleep. He had been asleep all day. Not even getting up to go to the bathroom. Anyone who is in their mid-sixties knows this is not natural. We got to go pee often. One of those age things.

Anyway, he hadn’t even moved positions and I was getting concerned so I tried to wake him up…..and couldn’t. He was breathing but he wasn’t waking up entirely. I managed to get him to open his eyes a bit but he couldn’t talk when he tried to. That’s when I knew I needed to call an ambulance.

He did manage to wake up enough to realize the EMS guys were there but he wasn’t able to speak very well. So off they went and I followed a few minutes after. I was with him in the ER from about 8-8:30 pm Sunday night until they told me to go home and rest about 4 am Monday morning. He was pretty much out of it when I left. He couldn’t talk and his right arm wouldn’t move, plus, his right hand was swollen about twice its size.

I went home but I didn’t sleep. How could I? I rested as much as I could and was back to the hospital Monday morning.

I didn’t know any more than I did early that morning until I could talk to the doctor. I finally was able to after a couple of hours of watching him drift in and out of a restless sleep. They had done a CT scan of his head and lungs as he was having some difficulty breathing. They also did a whole bunch of blood work the night before.

The first day…..this is what they knew for sure……he had a bad lung infection and his kidneys weren’t working as they should. They weren’t confirming yet that he had a stroke but in my heart, I knew he did. He was put on two antibiotics and a saline drip as he was also highly dehydrated.

He was able to talk a bit better but his speech was very slow and a bit garbled. He couldn’t use his right arm or hand. The doctor said they could tell from the CT scan that he had a couple of prior strokes in the past but they couldn’t tell if he had one now. There was a couple of different tests they wanted to do. Let me tell you I was scared for him. He was in pretty bad shape.

To make a really long story short. They are now saying he DID have a stroke along with his lung infection. They were worried about his kidneys and liver as neither one was working as it should. The right hand being swollen they couldn’t really explain.

When I left him yesterday his speech was back to normal. His right hand was no longer swollen and he had mobility in his right arm. They still had him on antibiotics. Also, now his blood pressure is high and they were giving him shots to bring it down. This is a man whose blood pressure was always on the low side. Not good.

And he’s not eating. He hasn’t had anything to eat since Saturday. He took one bite of his cheese sandwich yesterday at lunch and that was it. I couldn’t get him to eat anything else. Of course, we all know what hospital food is like. His was even worse. He had a bowl of soup. It was supposed to be soup. I think. Everything he eats or drinks has to be thickened up because of his lungs. If it’s not thick it will go INTO his lungs instead of his stomach. Not good. But, omg, that was some nasty so-called food.

I felt so sorry for him.

He wants to come home. They have no date as to when he will be released. I won’t see him until tomorrow morning as I am exhausted and I have so much to catch up on here at home. He understands. I’ll take him his clothes then. I’m hoping I will know more then also. We shall see.

Anyways, that’s been my life lately. If you have any extra good thoughts to send the husbands way, please do. We will both appreciate it.

Now I am off to do laundry and dishes. Sighhhh

 

 

Posted in Cee's Share Your World, Mi Vida Loca, questions and answers

Share Your World ~~~ June 19, 2017

Once again here I am with Cee’s Share Your World! Did you miss me? 😉

This week’s questions are:

What is something that people are obsessed with but you just don’t get the point of?

Selfies. Really. Do you not remember what you look like? If so just look in a mirror! Good grief.

What quirky things do people do where you are from?

Hm, I’m FROM Wisconsin but now live in Canada so which place to choose? Actually, Wisconsin and the part of Canada I’m living in now is not that much different. The people are nice. They drink beer a lot. They love cheese. There are a bunch of rednecks. They love their pickup trucks. They all think any weather over 35 degrees is shorts time.  As for quirky? Hell if I know. Maybe I’m the quirky one. LOL

 

What are some things you wish you could unlearn? 

Not to criticize myself so much. I learned how to do this at a very young age as people around me were always quick to criticize.

Who is someone that you miss having in your life?

My mom and dad mostly. They weren’t perfect but I loved them and I miss them every day. Also, my Aunt Nene. I haven’t heard from her in years and suspect she passed away. I may have to do some research to find out for sure. She would be in her 80’s now. She was my favorite relative.

 

 

 

There you have it. See you next week unless you hear from me sooner.

 

 

 

Posted in Blog challenge, Daily Prompt, His Days (about the husband), Humor, Mi Vida Loca

The Nightlife is Not the Life for Me

If you think this post is going to be about the nightlife where I party…well you will be disappointed.

It’s about sleep or the lack of in my case. Let me set the scene for you.

The husband and I are at the age where we like our sleep at night. Because of his severe back problems we set up his bed in the living room. Yes, not the prettiest living room decor but it is what it has to be.

He loves his TV. He watches it all the time. For him, it has to be on twenty-four hours a day. Even when he sleeps.

Now me, I must have a quiet semi-dark room to sleep. I have never been able to sleep with a TV or radio on. As I grow older it gets worse. I hate noise at night except the white noise of my fan. This is the only way I can sleep.

My bedroom is right off the living room. I keep my door closed and he turns down his TV to the lowest he can have it and still hear it. Now, have I told you he is also going deaf? Yes, unfortunately, he is. He wears two hearing aids which help a lot.

Now, for the most part, the TV is not the problem.  I’ve kind of gotten used to it. Although I must admit, the odd times the power goes off and the TV is quiet, I rejoice inside. Don’t tell the husband.

Ok, back to my story. The husband is on super strong pain medication and he takes sleeping pills at night. Two of them. Most times he sleeps for about an hour or two then he is up and down all night. And here lies my problem.

As he is awake off and on all night he snacks later at night. I don’t mind that, as he needs to gain weight and if he wants to eat at 1 am, who am I to tell him no? The only rule we have is no using the stove. (he sometimes forgets to turn it off. Danger!) So he raids the refrigerator and eats like a teenager. In fact, he lives sort of like a teenager. He sleeps most of the day and eats in the middle of the night, and waits for me to clean up after him.

So, what am I complaining about then, you ask? This was last night….

I’m all comfy in my bed with Sam (my dog) at my side and just drifting off to sleep when…

*crinkle, crinkle, CRINKLE!*

My eyes pop open as I wonder what the hell that noise is. I hear it again…

*crinkle, CRINKLE, CRIIINNNKLEEE*

After hearing it again I finally figure out it is the husband eating potato chips in bed and it’s the noise of the bag.

I shake my head and close my eyes and just start to go into a sweet slumber when I hear…..

 *bang! rrrrrrrrrrrrr, ding, ding, ding!*

The husband running the microwave for his snacks. No problem, I hear it most nights so I close my eyes again.

*clink, clink, clink* 

*crinkle, crinkle*

*clink, clink, CLINK!*

Eyes popping open, again.

*clink, CLINK, clink*

I finally figure out it’s the husband eating and is the sound of his fork hitting the plate, plus the potato chip bag. Rather damn loud too. Sighhhhh.

I swear under my breath and look at the clock, 2 am. I was asleep for all of half an hour. I’m tired so I close my eyes and snuggle down into my pillows.

Sleep, sweet sleep. Finally. My eyes pop open and I sit up in bed in a flash as I hear someone shouting…….

*BLEEP, BLEEP, BLEEP, WAH WAH WAH WAH WAH, BLEEP, BLEEP!!!*

I almost leaped out of my skin. It was so loud it sounded right next to me. It wasn’t. It was the TV. The husband fell asleep and turned over on the TV remote and turned it up very high. He turned it down before I went into the living room like a raging harpy and threw the remote and the TV out the door. Lucky him.

My heart slowed down and I looked at the clock and frowned, 2:34 am. I was so tired!

I get up to go to the bathroom as my bladder has decided since I was awake now anyway, why not empty it. I grumble as I do my bladder’s bidding and think if I am woken up one more time, the husband won’t need sleeping pills as I will put him to sleep myself. The hard way.

I crawl back into bed and close my eyes once more. A deep sigh escapes as I drift off into dreamland. Finally. Hopefully.

As I write this, the husband is sound asleep and I think it’s time to do some vacuuming.

 

 

 

(This post was done for WordPress’s Daily Prompt Later and yes, it’s all true.)

 

 

 

Posted in Cee's Share Your World

Share Your World ~~ Feb. 20, 2017

It’s Monday, so it must be time for Cee’s Share Your World! Thanks, Cee for the questions each week.

share-your-world2

When you cut something with scissors, do you move your jaw (as if you were about to chew)? 

No, I don’t believe I do. Sometimes if I’m really concentrating on something I will stick my tongue out. Have no idea why… just seems to help. Ha!

Do you chew your pens and pencils?

Is this mouth week? LOL….Ok, no I don’t chew my pens or pencils. Yuck. You don’t know where they’ve been or what’s been on them. My problem is I do know where they’ve been! (makes you wonder don’t it) 😉

pencils-93817_640

Are you a collector of anything?  If so what?

Do dust bunnies count? No? Eh. I used to be a collector. I collected Santa’s, snowmen, antiques, and books. Not necessarily all at the same time. First, I lost all my stuff in a fire, then a divorce, then because my mom was mad at me and my family members are vultures. So now I don’t collect anything but the aforementioned dust bunnies and no one else wants them.

Don’t feel sorry for me, though. When you live with less things you tend to enjoy what you have more.

What size is your bed? 

I have a double sized bed which I share with Sam, my dog. He takes two-thirds and kindly lets me have the last third. Which you people with pets understand. That’s ok with me, it’s his snoring that sometimes gets to me……..

 

bed-1299479_640

 

 

How’s your world doing today?

 

 

 

Posted in His Days (about the husband), Humor, Mi Vida Loca, Wednesday Whatever!

Wednesday Whatever! Jan. 11, 2017

I’m going to tell you a true story. It’s a bit funny, a little sad, and a slice of my life as it is now.

It deals with the husband. Many of you know of him. I write about him sometimes. He’s had his share of hard times the last few years. Debilitating back pain, colon cancer and all that comes with battling that. Now we find out he has cataracts, in both eyes.

He is dealing with it all like a trooper. The man is strong in many ways.

oldmansil

But…..sometimes our life is like a comic skit. A dark one, maybe, but a bit of dark humor never hurt anyone.

It happened one day last week. The morning started well enough. I mean, I managed to get up out of bed. I always figure that’s a good start to any day. I have a routine in the mornings. It helps to have a routine when you are still half asleep and need to do certain things first thing in the mornings.

I dole out the husband’s daily pills. So, I count out his pills and walk out to the living room where he is still sleeping. I put his pills in his daily pill container and still half asleep go to make my first, much-needed cup of coffee. Didn’t really look at the husband as he was buried under his blankets. Usual morning.

I grab my cup of coffee and head down the hallway to my home office. After firing up my computer I do what I normally do every day. I check out WordPress, briefly bring up Facebook, and then go into my emails. Same old, same old.

About an hour later I finally hear the husband’s shuffling feet coming down the hallway to his bathroom. Again, same old stuff. A few minutes later I hear him coming towards me. Probably just to say good morning. Ok. No problem.

He stops in the doorway, as our two fat cats have decided to lay in the open doorway and believe me, you can’t walk over both of them. They take up too much room. He stands there and starts talking to me. I only listen with half an ear because…well, I only had one cup of coffee and I’m reading….and well, ok, sometimes I’m a terrible wife.

coffee-1918552_640

I glance over at him briefly when he asks me a question. Just a quick look. Then I do a double take. I sit back in my chair, grab my glasses to put on for a better look…..and ask him….What the hell did you do to your face!?

His face ….. it was cherry red with what suspiciously looked like hives! It looked terrible. I mean, really, it looked like it should hurt like hell.

This is pretty close to how our conversation went……..

“What the hell happened to your face?”

” Why?” (Rubs his face and grimaces)

“It’s red! And terrible looking! I also think you have hives!”

(Rubs his face again and looks at his hand) “Really? Must be from that cream you gave me.”

“I didn’t give you any cream.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Nope, I didn’t. So what cream are we talking about?”

“The cream you gave me. It was on my shelf.” (He has a shelf next to his bed where he keeps all his stuff.)

“I didn’t give you any cream!”

“You must have. Why would I have it then?”

“Why would I give you cream? I would remember if I gave you any cream and I don’t so I didn’t.”

“Then, why do I have it?”

Well, I had to admit that one had me stumped. So I get out of my nice warm, comfy office chair and say……

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“Show me this cream.”

We both shuffle back down the hallway to the living room where his bed and shelf are. And where this baffling, notorious, cream is. He digs around his shelf and triumphantly hands me this small tube that I swear I have never seen in my life!

As I’m trying to read the small print on this small tube I hear him say…..

“See! You gave me this moisturizing cream, so I used it last night on my face because my face felt dry.”

“I have never seen this tube before.” I murmur as I try to read the small print. When I read what it says I start to laugh.

“This isn’t moisturizing cream…..it’s shower gel.”

“Then why did you give it to me?”

“I didn’t give it to you! I would remember and I don’t, so I didn’t give it to you!”

“Then why do I have it?”

I just sigh and look at his poor face. I don’t know why he has it. It’s not something I would ever buy.

“Did you not read the tube before you used it?”

“I couldn’t make out what it said. I just assumed since you gave it to me that it was moisturizing cream. So I used it all over my face in the middle of the night and then went back to sleep.”

“Well, it’s shower gel. A cheap gel and obviously you are allergic to it.”

He uses his forefinger to scratch at a hive.

“Don’t scratch it! Go splash some warm water over your face to make sure the gel is all off. Don’t rub your face dry, pat it dry. You don’t want to irritate those hives.”

“Why would you give me shower gel?”

I grit my teeth and say, “I. Didn’t. Give. It. To. You.”

He goes slowly towards his bathroom, mumbling….”Well, I don’t know who else would give it to me. Had to be you.”

I just shake my head, throw the tube in the trash and give up the battle. We could go on for hours.

I get him a Benadryl for the itching and send him to the pharmacist to see if they had anything for the hives. They tell him just to keep taking the Benadryl and to use a cream they sold him for the itching.

He was miserable for a couple of days. I still don’t know where the cream came from. I have my suspicions but I gave up that particular battle. I did tell him to please…PLEASE….show me anything he wants to use or take before he does so I know it’s ok.

Welcome to my world……..

 

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Posted in Christmas, His Days (about the husband), Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction

News, Updates and a Christmas Question

Hello, People!

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First the news and updates. The husband and I have been doing the doctor rounds again. Nothing serious! Just his six-month cancer checkup and trying to get him some help for his back pain.

Good news….he is now officially cancer free and in complete remission! He has had a CT scan and a few months ago he had another colonoscopy and it showed him completely cancer free. Whew! That was a relief I can tell you. I know he was worried about it. Who wouldn’t be?

The husband has arthritis on the spine with the added complication of a number of spurs there too. We have been trying for years to get him more help for the immense pain he is constantly in. Yesterday we finally were able to get in to see a specialist for this. With the combined efforts of his general MD and help from a home care nurse, we got an appointment with this specialist yesterday.

It was almost an all day affair but it’s something we got used to this last year with his cancer. First off to the hospital lab for blood work, then to X-rays for….well, x-rays, then finally in to see the specialist. He asked a million questions, examined the husband and asked me a million more questions. Bottom line….the doctor wasn’t sure if he could help the husband. He ordered a more invasive x-ray done of the spine with a special dye and then we go back to see the specialist in about a month.

So, the husband is still on strong pain meds (which were prescribed even stronger) and we won’t know if any other procedures or meds will help his situation for another month.

It’s a beginning though and we are grateful for that!

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Now for the Christmas question.

I wanted to know who would like a Christmas card? A real, paper, Christmas card showing up via snail mail?

I am going to be making out my cards this weekend and wanted to know if any of my new friends and readers would like me to add them to my list? I have a number of you from the year before last when I started my list for Christmas cards but I know some of you have moved and a few of you are new(ish) to my blog.

Let me know in the comments if you would like a card and I’d be more than happy to send you one!

Me, personally, I LOVE getting things in the mail. It makes my whole day when I do!

If you would like one from me, Sam and the gang just let me know and I’ll contact you for your address! Also, if you’d like to send me one and don’t have my address, let me know that too and I’ll send you my address!

I didn’t do this much last year as it was not a good time for me then but this year will be different. I’m feeling much more…..un-stressed, I guess you could say.

Which is a good thing. So let’s have a Merry Christmas ya’ll!!

 

 

 

Posted in Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction

When I Was Young

 

After my mother died in May of this year, my sister sent me a small box of photos that were my mom’s. I was happy about that because before that I had no photos at all of me or my family.

The reason I had no photos is a long story, best suited for some other time.

In the pictures that my sister sent me, I found a few of them of myself when I was just a small child. Wow, was that a long time ago!

I thought it would be fun to show you what I looked like way back then. I couldn’t believe I had ever been that small……..

I promised my good friend Mer that I would share a few pictures. I even have some of my mom and dad from a long time ago. I’ll share those at a later date.

Now, don’t laugh too hard at me…….

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This first one is of me in Kindergarten. I must have been about 5 or 6 then. Don’t you just love those bangs? haha!

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This picture was about sixth grade I believe. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. My dad kept this picture in his wallet for many years, that’s why it’s in such bad shape. Again with the bangs.

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As you can see, this one was taken in 1969, I was 14 then. I also had short hair for about the last time in my life. My mom made me cut it short. I hated it. We were also living in the much-haunted house at that time. My regular readers will know about it. My mom is next to me and my little brother in front of me. He was 12 then. My dog Chang in my lap. He was a blond Pekingese. I loved that dog and he hated everyone but me and dad.

 

So there you have it. I very young me! Such a long time ago. Sigh………

 

Posted in Blogging, Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, postaday, Stories of my life, Wednesday Whatever!

Wednesday Whatever!

Wednesday

 

 

This week  has been a week of reflection. Today is only Wednesday so I imagine the rest of the week will be much the same.

I know I haven’t posted much this month. I took an unplanned month off of writing, of posting, of doing much of anything, really. I can’t even blame it on an active social life, as I don’t have one. All my friends are online. I don’t have anyone here that I go out for coffee with, that I go shopping with, that I just hang with. I hang with my computer, my dog Sam and sometimes the husband.

Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t feel as if I’m missing out. At one time I had all those things. Good friends that I had coffee with, shopped with, or just hung out with. So I know what it’s like to have all that. It might seem strange to you that I much prefer how I am now. Today. Right this minute. On my computer typing out words that my friends will read.

Do I ever get lonely? You might ask that. The short answer…No. No, I very rarely get lonely. I enjoy my solitary lifestyle. It’s not for everyone. The husband hates being alone. In fact, he gets depressed if he’s alone for too long. He enjoys people. Being with people, talking, joking, laughing, drinking, whatever he and his friends do together. He enjoys that interaction and he misses it when he doesn’t get it. He is the type of person who needs other people around, he thrives on it. Unfortunately, since he got so sick and can’t do much physically his ‘friends’ have faded into the background.

This hurts him. He doesn’t understand it.

I do. Sort of.

The past year or so has been rough. Hell, the past four years have been rough. I don’t feel sorry for myself. It has shown me just how strong I can be. That’s always a good thing.

When my mom died at the end of May it hit hard. Not because my mom and I were best friends or that we had a tight bond. We weren’t and we didn’t. My mom and I had a rocky relationship since the day I was born. That’s ok. She taught me how to be strong and how to be my own woman. I guess you could say she taught me the true meaning of ‘tough love’. It was tough to love her. But I did. I just didn’t always like her. Or her me.

A few people know I have written my autobiography. I haven’t published it. I wouldn’t publish it while my mother was still alive. Now that she’s gone? I probably still won’t publish it. Not yet. Maybe never. It’s not pretty. I’m not even sure if it would have a happy ending. Because my life is still ongoing. For now.

The writings have a lot of my mom in them. She was never the hug you, compliment you, tell you she loves you type of mother. I never heard those words from her. “I love you.” Never. Not once. My sister and I had a conversation the other week and we discussed our mother and never hearing those words from her. It bothers my sister. It doesn’t bother me. Why? Because I accept that was the kind of woman my mother was. My sister has a harder time accepting that. That’s her right. I don’t try to persuade her otherwise.

The only time I heard my mother say, “I’m sorry” was for something she never did. Which seems strange, as she did plenty. Yet, the only time I heard her apologize to me was for something that was never in her control. My sexual abuse. She never even knew about it until I was an adult. Then she had to ask me outright if I was abused by the person who abused me for years. I told her the truth. That I was. She cried and kept telling me she was sorry.

I told her she had nothing to be sorry for in that instance. It wasn’t her fault. I couldn’t tell her when I was a child and it was happening. And later. Well, what was the point of hurting her so much? So I said nothing. Until she asked me.

My mother was who she was. I am who I am. So we never mentioned it again.

So many memories surfaced when my mother died. Then I received a box from my sister this week. It was filled with memories. With pictures and items from my mother’s house. I looked at all those pictures. Some of so very long ago. Of me. My mother. My dad. And I became reflective.

I called my sister and thanked her for the pictures. As I didn’t have any before that. Not a one. The reason why is another long story I might tell some day. Again. As it’s already a part of my autobiography.  And again, it’s a story of me and my mother.

So, I guess, in a long about way, I’m saying why I took an unplanned month off from blogging. Life’s memories got in the way. Mix that in with just being tired to the bone and you have the recipe for doing nothing. Or almost nothing. For a month.

I’m catching my breath back again. With the help of my friends. Here. Now. You. I will be ok.

Thank you.