Tangled Grrl

Some days are harder than others. Some moments are harder than others. Sad moments and happy moments are the hardest. The times when you would naturally reach out for the person who knows you the best. When you would immediately call your mom to share your sorrows or your joy. She would just know what to say. She would have the right inflection, the right words. She would respond in every right way to make you feel like you deserved to be on cloud nine. Or that you could survive this setback. Because she made you. She already understands the flaws, the minutiae that makes up your thoughts. Yesterday one of the nurses told us that although Dad's chances after he was admitted were 50/50, in her experience only about 20% of patients in that shape actually make it to where he's at. And today he was actually cleared to have a liquid diet. That's such a major accomplishment. And all I want to do is call my mom and tell her. I want to hear the elation in her voice when I explain...

I was talking to my cousin the other day about the ability to picture a finished project in your mind before it's done. He works in the construction business and was telling us about a client that paid to have a door and window installed, bricked in, then paid to have it pulled back out because she decided she didn't like it after it was completed. She couldn't picture the finished product in her mind without seeing it fully finished in front of her. Even with all that technology can now offer, some people simply can't see  without the physical proof in front of them. I don't normally have that problem. I may have to swatch my knitting to see how two colors will look mixed together, or do small swatches with stitch patterns to see how a variegated will play with a texture, but the overall I can normally then picture. I can see the finished picture in my mind when I get an idea for a design for a room. I can shop around and spend months picking out furniture, curta...

This morning I woke up with a headache. Not a migraine, but one of those annoying ones that tries to drive you slightly mad with pounding. But I go to the hospital every day. So I went back to sleep for a little while, made some lists of things that I know I still need to get done, and tried to will it away before I resorted to taking anything. Then I succumbed, ate something, took meds and even went ahead and put contacts in so I could wear sunglasses since meds weren't completely effective. The city had some bike/walk/run thing going on today and part of my normal drive to the hospital was shut down, so it took me longer than normal to get there. My sister is visiting this weekend, so she was already down there to see my dad with my aunt. I got updates from the nurse and the main doctor and hung out for a while. They had let me know they wanted to do another bronchoscopy to try and clear out his lungs, check for signs of pneumonia and also to get a sample to see if there was an...

I chose to not go to the hospital early today. I did another 12.5 hours there yesterday and I'm exhausted. When you've been there through as many shift changes as I have, you start to understand why everyone keeps telling you to take care of yourself, even as you look at them in disbelief. How is that supposed to happen? How are you supposed to be there to see rounds? To question the medication changes, the plans if you're not there? And on the same hand how does your laundry get done, or bills paid or your hair washed if you don't take the time to stay away for a few hours? I'm not sure yet because I tend to do everything with a force of a tornado pushed by a hurricane. I'll figure it out eventually. Yesterday I knew I'd hit a wall so I told Dad I was coming in late today. I needed to do laundry, make calls and wash my hair. So today will, hopefully, be productive at home and not just a hospital day. I'll still worry all morning and feel this draw to le...

 There are days when grief is a bit like a frozen lake. Some days it's protected by a layer of ice that's thick enough to build roads over. Thick enough to travel across and live on. Other days the very air of an exhaled breath will shatter the delicate layers and the grief turns into waves that destroy every semblage of okayness you thought you had built. Suddenly you're back to Day 2. You feel as though you're back to surviving on coffee and Tylenol for crying induced headaches. You're not sure how to sleep or what to do next. Sometimes that feeling lasts for mere moments. Sometimes it's hours. Then just as suddenly your ice is intact again. You can still feel it but it's a little more distant. Those moments are always worse for me in the mornings or at night. It's always the calm moments, the alone moments. Especially the times I would normally reach out to her.  It's dangerous to let my mind wander; that's when I'm transported to the ...

I spent 12.5 hours at the hospital today. My first interaction began at 4am when the nurse called to give me report on my dad's status. He had a really rough night. And once I was up, I may as well stay up, so I got ready and headed down. While on my way I got another call letting me know they were taking him down to CT. I lost count midway through the day how many tests and procedures he had done today. I will tell you that when I left, his vitals were stable, all 6 of his drains were operational, I witnessed my first NG tube placement today and I got to be a patient advocate. I also am a pro at mouth swabs and suctioning the moisture from the mouth swabs. I also know where all of the linens are kept, can wipe down faces like a pro and can stand my ground even when witnessing someone I love in pain or under duress. Nothing tests your strength or your fortitude quite like necessity, but I'm grateful for every second that I am here. That I am able to be here and stand and re...

Here's the TL:DR Dad had his reconstruction surgery, he survived, I dealt with crazy people and nice ones in the waiting room and I cried in a store. Dad went down for surgery this morning around 7:30am and they told me it would take approximately two hours. As we all know, surgery times are approximations and often don't mean much of anything. I had knitting so I wasn't concerned. I was also alone, so I knew I could get up and go for a walk or grab food when and if I felt like it. It was basically my ideal waiting situation. As I settled in, knitting my sock, a very kind gentleman asked me if I was knitting a sock. We ended up having a lovely conversation and we were shortly joined by the rest of his family. They were also lovely. Then the curse of my mother and I hit me. Maybe it was my mom just getting a laugh from the other side. Because the worst companion to ever descend upon me joined us in the waiting room. The woman who proceeds to tell you her entire life story,...

Yesterday would have been my Mom and Dad's 42nd wedding anniversary. And it was rough. I think it ended up being even tougher than Mother's Day. That may have been because it was so close to Mother's Day. It may have been because it was the first time I visited my mom's grave since the funeral. But it was a really, really rough day. I did my daily hospital visit to Dad. They had to do trach care while I was there, which can be hard to witness. While I was there, he told the respiratory guy I was the boss. And that he had just lost his other boss, which of course set off the faucet. Then he told me he needed me to do something for him. He asked me to please go buy flowers and put them on Mom's grave for him. They needed to be from him. This doesn't seem like much, unless you know my dad. He almost never bought my mom flowers. It was a running joke in our family. If dad bought my mom flowers, it was because he had done something massive. In fact, the one time th...

I went to a cookout over the weekend to hang out with some of dad's motorcycle club brothers and sisters. I mostly went to escape. I needed a break from the hospital, from the questions, from the bills and the medications, the tears and the "how are you?" And it was wonderful. My face hurt from laughing. If you need a break, hanging out with military vets and their families is a helluva way to have a good time. I even survived Mother's Day. I broke down reading messages sent to me while sitting in the waiting room at the hospital. Tears just started streaming down my face while I was waiting to go back in and see Dad after his dressing change. There happened to be three lovely women sitting in there with me who noticed and they gave me the best hugs. They were kind as could be and talked with me a little while and I managed to pull myself back together before I went back in to see Dad again. Other than that, I managed to keep it together pretty well. I went to a bru...

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. Mother's Day has been a hard one for me for the last 8 years anyway. For anyone who doesn't know, I experienced the loss of three pregnancies and I already have mixed emotions about the day. But I push through them when this day rolls around every year. I now have three stepdaughters so I push through harder, because none of my grief or anger is their fault. And honestly, unless you've experienced such loss, you'll never truly understand the loss of what could have been.  This year is different though. Because just a few days ago I lost my mom suddenly. So this year I'm grieving and I'm grieving hard. One of our family friends equated the loss of a strong and loving mom to the loss of your North Star. I could never have put it so eloquently myself, but it was the most accurate description I've heard. I am the luckiest woman in the world to have been able to call her mom. And I was the last person to speak with her before she c...