Addition/Subtraction and Boiled Feet

This is from earlier last week.. I just couldn't push the publish button:

When I sit here this morning, I miss Mom. I have had a hard time with Christmas this year. December is when everything starts. Zach and I spend Christmas Eve night with Mom and go to the Christmas Eve service at First Pres in Kernersville. Later that night, Mom tells me she felt so bad that she sat there and prayed "Just to be able to make it through this service with us and not be sick. To have this memory and not be sick." I spent Zach's Birthday last year with Mom doing Chemo. This round is where Mom has the allergic reaction to the Oxalaplatin and we spend Saturday/Sunday at Wesley Long worried that she has had a stroke.


This year has left me with a list of people that I will continue to miss. I miss the space you filled in my life.


This year has also brought a new list of people that I didn't know I missed. For everyone that helped me take care of Mom, I miss you. For everyone that took care of me, I miss you. And again, I am so thankful for everything that you did for us.


What has helped me push the button is I got my feet boiled today.. As I kept trying to work my way out of the boiling hot water, all I could hear is Mom saying "We no boil feet here..."

Christmas Eve

Zach and I just got back from our Christmas Eve Service at church. One of the duties of Elder is to serve Communion. I am always deeply grateful for this opportunity. I can't find the words to express how my heart feels to serve my church family.

During the service, what always speaks to me is the passage "This bread and wine are now set apart from a common use to a holy use. " Things that normally sit on the counter and in the fridge are now set apart, to join us together and celebrate this physical act that is the cornerstone of our relationship with God.

This is what I want for Christmas.. I want to be set apart from a common use. I want to be more. I want us all to be more.. More loving, more giving, more trusting, more caring, more more.

I want to live in a world where everyone is warm, safe and full.

The IN Crowd

I was reading a blog tonight and didn't need to google any words. I knew them by heart.

It is amazing the words that we couldn't spell 2 weeks ago, we can now say and recite the definition by heart. We become a walking PDR for meds, our hands are raw from the washing, and we always cough in the crook of our elbow. We learn to change bandages, figure out morphine doses, and deal with IV's.

We toss words like port and tumor markers in our conversations. We know the fast pass trick at the Emergency Room (3 little words "High Dose Chemo"). We know to steal the adhesive remover packets whenever we see them because they are like gold. We know to flush twice after chemo.

I don't want to know these things. I don't want anyone to know these things. I don't want to be in the In Crowd, that group of people that has cared for someone with cancer or been that person. I pray for the day that cancer is something we talk about in the past tense in a scary bedtime story. "When you were little, there was this horrible thing called cancer. It made people very sick. But one day, very smart people figured out how to make everyone all better and no one had cancer ever again."

Christmas Presents

I bought my first Christmas presents at the Walmart Monday morning at 3:00 AM. For as long as I can remember, Ken and I have always done Christmas bags for our Meals on Wheels guys. When one of his guys is in a Scout Troop, the troop usually does cards. It is a mixture of oranges/apples/homemade cookies and whatever else we can find plus some type of decorated bag.

Christmas has been on the downswing for the last couple of years at my house. Mom was so whacked about Christmas 2 years ago and last Christmas, we spent with Mom at her house.

There will be a lot less outside stuff happening and hopefully a little more inside stuff happening this year. Some years, I get so wrapped up in the what and forget the why. I forget this is the beginning, when the word becomes Flesh and walked among us. When a small baby in a far away place is born. And in this small baby, the infinite divinity of our God is realized.

Happy Easter

This is Mom and I in my back yard a couple of years ago. I want to put it around Easter. I have on my "flute playing" dress. I think I played for Easter and Mom came up to church. The house behind us is Mack and Helen. We are sitting on a tree stump left over from Fran. Mom's camera is on her tripod. How cute are we?

My Christmas List

Dear Santa,

I have been very good this year. Please get me ApexSQL Diff. I promise I will use this only for good. I will keep all of my development and production databases on a common revision. If you buy me ApexSql Developer, I promise I will never write a cursor again and will actually document my code. If you are strapped and need to put this in the next budget year, my demo doesn't expire until 1/2/2009.

Your friend,
Robin

No Way Out

I just hit 1500 miles on my car this week. To celebrate, I extended the XM subscription on the radio. I am amazed at the amount and type of different channels. The idea of an "Elvis" channel simply tickles me. I haven't figured out the new presets yet. NPR and the BBC are the only XM channels assigned to a button at this point. I am a freak that listens to BBC in the AM on NPR.

The best thing about the radio at this point is remembering all the songs I had forgotten. Jefferson Starship singing "No Way Out", some Old School Rap to get back in touch with my inner street, anything by Squeeze, every song I sang in High School, and more Grunge (guess now it is called "Alternative") than I can ever listen to.

If I can just get the bluetooth in the GPS to trained to understand where I want to go (Go Homah), this will be the most perfect car in the world without heated seats.

Creepy Mouse

Creepy Mouse came to visit Zach this week.

When you are deep asleep, Creepy Mouse comes and sings the "Creepy Mouse... Creepy Mouse" song and tickles you until you are awake (usually begging the Creepy Mouse to stop at the top of your lungs). Mom always was the best Creepy Mouse because of her fingernails.

I am now the Creepy Mouse in the House. Just one more reason to miss Mom.

Blue Apples

Stan has spent the last week taking down the wallpaper in the kitchen. The oldest layer, which has incredibly bonded to the walls in the addition, is beige with blue flowers and a pink border. When I walk into the kitchen now, it is like walking into a 1980's country kitchen. I can't decide if I am dizzy or just nauseous when I see the little blue dancing apples.

We are in the process of painting/carpet and moving stuff around to get situated for Bev to move in. Bev is going to end up in our bedroom and we are trying to figure out where Stan and I will lay our head and put our clothes. No matter what happens, we are in for a huge yard sale. Don't be scared if you see a POD in front of our house for a few months. We are just cleaning up. Welcome to the next iteration of the Boraski Bed and Breakfast.

Solid Ground

Over the past few weeks, the ground has gotten more solid around me. I think it is a combination of the medicine and the talking. For the first time in a long time, I am starting to feel like me again. I am not saying that I am still not crying and I don't miss Mom horribly, but it doesn't feel as sharp as over the summer.

I am not the same me as last year. This weekend last year was spent getting ready for Mom to have surgery. Zach was getting ready to sign his Letter of Intent and my only worries were what we were going to eat for Thanksgiving. I normally take the week of Thanksgiving off to get ready for everything that happens in December.

My calendar is getting ready to cross when Mom got sick last year. I go into this Wednesday knowing this day will change my world. I go into this Wednesday never imaging how it will end. I go into this Wednesday with a picture of Mom in my car on the way to the hospital calling Susan to get her "those PJ's at Chico's" so she will match her robe as she lounges around after her surgery. I go into this Wednesday never imaging I would put those PJ's on Mom after she died.

My name is Stan. I am a big stupid head.....

My name is Stan. I am a big stupid head. I can't see my feet but I can drive my truck. When I was just washing my neck, all my steri strips remarkably fell off so I shaved around my incision. If I could find the scissors, I would trim a couple of the stitches that are sticking out of my neck. Oh yeah, I am a big stupid head.

6 vertebrae in my neck are now fused together and cushioned with something that looks like dice. A big stupid head is very heavy and needs metal plates to hold it up.

Somebody please pinch me....

SMART Goals

I still am finding new things in Mom's stuff. She had a CD called Tapestry which is a bunch of random people singing Carole King songs. In this CD is a small yellow piece of paper with the definition of Smart Goals, plus TQM and the words "outside the box". I remember this rant with Mom. We have all been a part of this, whatever the magic words of the time to make us more efficient, balanced and motivated workers. I am working up to a random fit and Mom is taking notes.

Stan is feeling better and is also moving around better today. Several people have stopped by or called this weekend to check on him, and have also brought us dinner. We have moved slow this weekend and it has been good for both of us. This is my last slow weekend before the end of the year. I have barely checked email since Wednesday and have taken naps this weekend as Stan has taken naps. I think maybe I am rested (finally).

The hospital stay with Stan was harder that I thought it would be. Stan around the corner from the room that Mom stayed in when we were at Western Wake. This means I knew were the secret snacks were located. A couple of nurses asked me where I worked, and I when I answered, they had assumed I was "medical". No, I told them, I had taken care of my Mom.

Showerin' Stan

We are home and doing okay. Stan took a shower this morning. He is walking around like he has a stick up his butt (I am not sure if this was extra), but other than that, all is well. I thought I had this down after Mom, but Stan brings "caregiving" to a new level. Stan having surgery is like having a new baby, without the stitches and big boobs.

More later.

Necked

I love all this word implies. You can't say this word without a little smile.

Stan is getting necked in the AM. We need to be at Western Wake at 5:30 AM. His surgery should take about 6 hours. The current plan is that he will come home Thursday. Stan had a cervical fusion about 5 years ago. They are going to go above the fusion and repair the 3 busted disks above the fusion, and then re-fuse (don't get out the green pens) the entire stretch. Needless to stay, I won't be turning his head any time soon. Also, he won't be able to see his shoes after this. I remember a long couple of months where I couldn't see my feet with Zach and he had to tie my shoes. We will see if he likes wearing shoes that don't match....

Decorating Advice

Mom's room has a strange smell to it. I was talking tonight about how I want this room back. I put my clothes in this room to make me go in here. I haven't been able to sleep on the bed or sit in the chair, but when Mom was here, I did both. I am not afraid of this room, but wrapped up in this room is a smell that I associate with Mom being sick.

This room doesn't smell like any other room in the house. Tonight, I finally put my finger on it. Wendy and I painted this room with a low odor paint that matches one of Mom's pillows. Wrapped up in the smell of this paint is the smell of Mom at her sickest, and every time I come into this room, no matter what I spray in here, I smell this.

So, my prescription for the week is to paint this room in the smelliest, stinking paint that I can find.

Just a couple random thoughts/updates to wrap up the day...

1. Stan is having surgery next Wednesday on his neck. More details when I have them but if you were around me during the last 2 back/neck surgeries, you know what a big baby he is.
2. I was one of the judges of the dessert contest at work this morning. I am not a big pumpkin fan, especially at 9:00 AM. Needless to say, almost 12 hours later, I am still regretting this. What I learned: You can't hide pumpkin in anything. Don't eat people made of fondant. Pumpkin and peppers is never a good combination. Don't eat anything served out of a litter box.

Flowers

Still little peeling left, but here it is.

Aisle Police

I just got back from a trip last night to the grocery store with Nana. Nana is Stan's Mom. I either call her Bev or Nana, depending on the conversation. To steal from my full sentence friend, Di, I present a yet unnamed list.

1. Everyone in my family (Nana included) considers the candy aisle at the grocery store free game. I can remember taking my Dad to the grocery store and he is stuffing Whoppers in his mouth like a squirrel. Nana was giving him a run for his money today. I think they need to weigh any member of my family as they leave. Needless to say, I don't buy bulk candy at the HT .

2. Wendy, Mom and I have the same knees. I look more like Mom than Wendy, but we all have this flap of skin above our knees that we can fold over.

3. If you were at Mom and Dad's wedding, and ate the Cole slaw, you ate part of my Dad's finger.

4. We had a horse named Leroy Brown.

5. I have slept on the same pillow for 43 years. This pillow was actually Mom's growing up. I think it has 3 feathers left in it and 8 pillow covers on it.

6. Wendy is well known for cutting the hair off dolls. I think she still does this on the side if asked nicely.

7. When Wendy got married, I was pregnant with Zach. She just thought I was getting fat and was mad at me because "I kept eating and Mrs. Cleary had to keep letting out my dress." [I put on 60 lbs with Zach - 40 in the first 5 months.]

Feel free to add to this....

En Pointe

I really want my Mom today. I really need to talk to her. Why do I have to do the hardest stuff without her? She made this hard, I want her to make it not hard now. If she doesn't fix this, I am going to throw the biggest fit you have ever seen.

Ink Song

If you know me, you know that I have some ink. I think I am the only one in the family (except my crew) that has any type of decoration.

My first tattoo was a small symbol on my right inner ankle when I was 35. I remember when I emailed a picture to Mom, her only reply was "It looks infected".

I ended up getting my belly pierced when I turned 37. Believe it or not, I never think about it unless I have on a pair of high waisted pants.

About 3 years ago, I had a cross put on the small of my back on the left side. It was actually a magnet that I received for teaching Sunday School one year. I think Cindy said it best.. "I have brought a new level of terror into buying Sunday School teacher presents. Now, they need to worry about what will end up on my back."

In January of this year, I had a small lavender ribbon tattooed on my shoulder for Mom. Mom would tell people about my ribbon, but I rarely would show it. It just became another part of the landscape when I would look at myself in the mirror.

Last Friday, Neal at Blue Flame, put a circles of bright flowers woven around and into my ribbon. Think bright beautiful flowers in blues and purples and that strange orange that Mom liked and yellow and pink and green. Think of how the earth waits patiently in the winter for the sun, and when it feels the warmth, bursts forth in the flowers on my shoulder.

I am still here and I wait for the spring. I long for the warmth. I long for the time when the dark brown cold patches are covered in blossoms and my heart sings.

I know

I am here. I am just very quiet.

I sat in the chair this week and realized that I held Mom's urn like I held Zach when he was a baby. I miss the weight of both of them. I miss the feel of both of them.

Watch Your Mouth....

It has been a busy few days. Zach came home Thursday night and brought 22 (count them) loads of laundry. Between getting him situated to go back to school, washing clothes and church stuff , my weekend was crazy. Throw in bronchitis and an ear infection, my cup overflows. Monday brought more talking time, Tuesday brought the Relay for Life Captain's Meeting and dinner with one of my friends. As soon as my head touches my stinky pillow that I have had for 43 years, I am out for the night. Early to bed and whatever the past few days.

But today, I spent the afternoon in Raleigh with some fellow geeks at a PUG meeting, or for the nongeeks, the Progress User Group Fall 2008 Meeting. Progress our database back end. As you have figured out, I have a second grade sense of humor. One of the Progress guys out in the vapor has written a couple of tuning and database admin books. These are like THE definitive books on the subject. The author's last name is Foreman (here comes the potty humor), but in my office we replace "Man" with "Skin". Any time we ever talked about the books in the office, we always used his other name (Don't ask me why, but this is always hilariously funny to us. Almost as funny as when someone will said "Hard Drive" or ask if our name can be changed to Team IT (abbreviate it) ). So today, when I was talking about how good a reference these books were to me, I used his other name, without thinking because that is the name my brain normally knows. I am in a room full of men, talking about the performance tuning book by Fore(Fill in the blank). I am not sure if I need to wash my mouth out with soap or if I am their new hero.

Stand Up

I stand for my Mom.

I stand for people that are forced to make health care decisions based on their income. I stand for the people who have dedicated their lives to treating this horrible disease. I stand for the people who are unable to afford the medicines that prevent nausea and help control pain. I stand for the people that make the choice to participate in a clinical trial, and in their fight, teach everyone more about this disease. I stand for people who donate their time selflessly to educate, investigate and support everyone that is touched by cancer. I stand for the person that now wears my Mom's wig.

I stand for my Father in Law. I stand for my Aunt. I stand for my Grandmother. I stand for my friends.

I stand and I will walk. The initial kick off meetings for Relay for Life starts next week. I will not sit by in my grief and watch the purple shirts walk by. I will walk with them and for them, and I will celebrate.

Come, Spirit Come

Our hearts control. Our spirits long to be made whole. Let inward love guide every deed. By this we worship, and are freed. This is the third verse of a hymn called "Though I May Speak" by Hal H. Hop­son.

I had my first meeting/appointment with a counselor last night. Last night brought strange dreams of earthquakes and being in the house I grew up in.

I told him his purpose at this point was to listen to what I could not say to anyone else. I needed to be able to give some of the memories to him that I could no longer keep. And he told me, "You will need to give these to me more than once." And since you know how I am by now, I took that away and thought about it on the ride home. This isn't how I thought this would work. I thought I would just give him the memory and he would clean up the mess and make it nice and tidy.

The other thing that came from yesterday was an increase in my dosage. I had told him that after talking this over with Jason, I had opted for counseling for a while to see if that would be an option instead of increasing the dosage. He said that it doesn't take the place of the work we would need to do together, it would just help me to be in a place where I could do the work most effectively.

Maybe the dream last night was to remind me why I started down this path. I feel like what I know about myself has been shaken to the very core.

Fall Back

I can't figure out if continuing to blog is like picking a scab or lancing a boil. [Equally gross analogies.] Or to put it another way.. Is this helping or hurting? Most blog entries come complete with a pretty decent cry on my side. I wonder if I would explode from the pressure or if it would just harmlessly evaporate? Where would the thoughts that end up on this blog land otherwise?

October reminds me of Dad. Mom and Dad close on the house Monday, Dad has chest pains and goes into the hospital Tuesday and has a quadruple bypass Wednesday morning. On the operating table, Dad has a stroke and the next few months are a new adventure in terror. I can spend the rest of my life not seeing High Point Regional, Wesley Long or Moses Cone Hospital and be perfectly happy.

I always described Dad dying like standing on 2 boxes and having someone kick one out from under you. You could still keep dry, you were a little wobbly, but you still had a box to stand on.

Why can't I get past this? Why can't I get over this? Why does this still hurt? Why do I still cry? Why can't I just be big?

Picture Perfect

When I talked with Wendy today, she said I needed to warn her when I post pictures. [It is a rare thing.] Wendy said something like "I had forgotten this look" but we both agreed how much we liked this picture.

We all have pictures of Mom, with her hair all prissed up, all made up with every thing perfect. Mom would take a picture of herself in a minute. Big smile, lots of color, lots of everything.

This picture is none of that. Mom is sporting her wig at this point, but still has on some makeup and earrings. I don't see Mom's port accessed, so we may be either starting or getting ready to leave. We are back in the corner in our favorite chair. In my small camera phone, I have the picture of Mom that I carry in my heart. I see love. I see peace. I don't see fear. I don't see pain. I see everything that has brought us to this day that we have spent together. In this picture, in this second, we are together and that is enough.

Happy Mommy

This is from my old phone. I just spent $20.00 to buy a memory card to move this to somewhere I could keep it. Mom is snug in a warm blanket at George's. I want to put this near the second week of January. It's a good day. All the chemo we can stand and all the cookies we can eat and all the sodas we can drink and all the warm blankets we can ask for.

Uncle

My body has a way of saying enough. A juicy, miserable case of bronchitis that usually will make me sleep a couple of days and make me feel so much like crap, I forget I have things to do.

So I sleep. [I have slept pretty much since Friday morning.] I had a follow up with Jason on Thursday and he told me my lungs were "crumbly". I can usually count on a round of the yucks when I don't get any downtime. I have been pretty much at work each weekend for the past few weekends and a few late nights thrown in.

The week of Mom's first chemo, I went from Strep on Monday to Bronchitis and a double ear infection by Wednesday. I am a walking germ infested snotty nosed whinny baby. I am sitting in Jason's office crying because I feel like trash, but I have to be better by Friday.

The initial purpose of Jason this week was to check back in after the 29 days. I am going to stay where I am on the dosage, but start counseling for a while. I feel flat right now from the drugs, but for the first time, I can see past the flatness. I think I am in a place where I can talk now, which I haven't been in a long while. I can talk about how scared I was, how I wonder what else I could have done (been more aggressive with Mom's treatment plan, called Hospice earlier), how I wonder if Mom was scared when she died and if she knew we were there and she wasn't alone, and how I wonder what Mom saw in me during the last few weeks and was it what she thought she would see.

Do you see what I see?

When I saw Aunt Shirley last night, she looked okay to me. Maybe a little tired, but not what I had expected from the family grapevine. Stan and I were talking about this last night, and he said "You only see what you can see."

He saw Mom with clearer eyes than I did. I never saw Mom with Julie's eyes or the eyes of the people who came to visit or the eyes of her friends. I knew Mom lost weight because I could feel it. I could feel it when I touched her. But my eyes never saw it. My eyes never saw it.

You only see what you can see.

Views

As part of the server crash, we have been moving/scripting/writing stuff to live in the new environment. Different ways of doing the same thing, but my poor fingers and brain have been doing the same thing on this server for about 4 years.

One of the things that got me over the past day or so was when a couple of my databases were moved, they didn't have the same objects. We need to pause for a second for some words: View -A different way to look at a table or groups of tables. They may contain logic or just make the table look friendlier to an end user or enforce security. Views are dynamic and reflect the changing data within the underlying tables. Tables - A place to store data. They stay the same unless you manipulate the data by an update, insert or delete.

What had happened is some of my views had been converted to tables during the copy. You access them the same way, so it took me a while to figure out what I thought was a moving picture was really static. One change in a script had me looking at old data instead of my view moving with the normal data flow.

To clean house, I dropped the tables and recreated the views. And everything started to work again.

To bring this back to my twisted geek self, it made me think more about what I consider moving and what I use to mark that movement. I expected at some point to be back to the old me, but I realize the view of the old me is static. When I imagine my old self at this point, it doesn't move, I have scripted it into a big table. But I don't want to be a table, I want to be a view. I want to reflect everything that has happened and that will happen in my life in a way that is dynamic and changing.


On a way side note, I need to thank Wendy for feeding me last night on the way home. I ran the roads to Aunt Shirley, and stopped by the house on the way back.

Peace, Be Still

I just got off the phone with Wendy. I have been in hiding the past couple of days. We had a server crash at work. Put it this way, there is no milk in the house and I am wearing the same jeans that I had on Sunday.

Aunt Shirley is in the hospital. I am not sure of the details, but I am going to run that way Monday to see her.

During one of our trips to the hospital in Greensboro, (I want to put this in December the Saturday after Mom had the reaction to her Chemo that Friday. She had woken up and her face was numb.) we spent Saturday in the ER. I don't remember the details, I just remember Mom being so upset that they ended up sedating her. She was so afraid of what was going on, the possibility of having an MRI, the idea that she had a stroke, she was out of her frame. I was afraid to leave her to go to the bathroom. The nurses in the ER did not have experience with a port like Mom's and I refused to let them access it. I made them put IV's in her arm instead of the possibility of them blowing Mom's port. I argued about medicine and doses. The whole day was spent guarding Mom. At some point in the day, I called Uncle Richard and Aunt Shirley. I just remember when I saw Aunt Shirley, I knew it would be okay. I hadn't cried all day and I just remember thinking, "Aunt Shirley is here. It is going to be okay. I can cry. She will look after both of us. " and I felt the terrible pressure on my chest ease up. And I did cry on her shoulder. And I ate the crackers she had stuck in her purse for me. And they stayed with Mom long enough for me to run back to the house and get everything that we would need to stay however long in the hospital for this round.

Are you sleeping?

I just got back late last night. I need to upload a couple of pictures to give you a better idea of the past few days. In a few words, I had a wonderful time, learned a lot of good stuff, and saw people that I only see during this conference. If you are looking for distribution/financial software, you would be well served to meet the guys at Apprise Software.

I barely made it to 5:00 today. I think about 2:00 PM, I set my alarm and slept for about 15 minutes. I got home and went to bed. Stan just called me a couple of minutes ago to see if I was sleeping. I jumped out of the bed because I thought it was the alarm. [My body doesn't know where it is.. It thought it was the wake up call.] Needless to say, I am up now and trying to figure out why someone would call you to ask "Are you sleeping?".

Wear My Words

You have no idea of how much grief I gave Mom over the Chico's addiction. The fabric, the number of different combinations, the matching, the everything. Mom actually had a job at the one in High Point and everyone knew her by name.

I am out of town for a couple of days and needed some business clothes to actually go over my fat butt. [I am +30 lbs right now from when Mom was here. I wish I could say fat and happy, but today I am just fat.] Mom was the only reason I have ever lost weight when I have been stressed, but during the last month, I dropped about 15 lbs. I didn't realize it until I tried on a dress for the funeral. I just felt funny eating when Mom couldn't eat, and a couple of weeks catching throw up pretty much killed my appetite. My normal stress pattern is to eat anything that is moving slow.

Back to my butt... I ended up getting Chico's like stuff for this week at the Belks in town today. [The Belks in Fuquay is the smallest Belks on the planet, plus I know everyone here. Once I had to get a dress for a wedding and the entire Belks dressed me, customers and staff, from the shoes to the whatever. Again, I live in a very small town.] I just wanted something that would go over my butt and not be tight. Black pants, black skirt, black tank top and something brown that looks like a jacket and something blue with a matching shell. Kathy is helping me find stuff (She goes to church with me. ) In theory, I can fit all of this in my purse and have outfits for 4 years. Man do I hate to shop.

Can I get a "I told you so"? Who knows what is next? I may go buy some makeup from a real store.

And the flower would be an offering of love to the dessert

My biopsy came back today with clear margins. I wondered if I would get the results back before I left this weekend, so I broke down and called the Dr. Good news and a date for the same time next year.

I have a new soundtrack as you can tell from the last couple of posts. Crazy weekend. Too much stuff to do before I flight out Sunday for a few days. And today also brought a tricked out new phone. I need to have a little "Friday Fun" and do a couple of Windows Mobile apps.

I don't know if I have blogged about "Friday Fun" before. I take a hour or so every once and a while and write something fun (always on Friday). Between database conversions and normal stuff, I normally don't write any stuff that can be remotely called cool. Friday Fun things usually more flashy than my normal stuff and are usually proof of concept for some new type of technology or something that one of our users has talked about but it never moves to the front of the list. It may be a "I am too lazy to check something trigger" or a call to read one of the temperature sensors on one of the servers or whatever has been mulling around in the back of my thoughts for the past few days from something I have read.

I have names for other days, like "No Cursor Tuesday", where I make an active effort not to write a cursor. How twisted is that...

And in the sea there is a fish. A fish that has a secret wish.

A wish to be a big cactus. With a pink flower on it.

I have gone from a round of not dreaming to a round of busy dreams, which is very different for me. They remind me of the vivid dreams from using a patch when trying to stop smoking. When I wake up, I feel like I just closed my eyes, but with a internal feeling of "you were supposed to finish this before you woke up." I wake up tired and behind.

I have a follow up with the Dr next week. We are close to the magic 29 days. For some reason, I thought I would be happy by now. But I am not sure the opposite of sad is happy, but closer to not sad. Maybe this is part of the deal. Maybe if I had just stuck it out, I could have kicked myself over to happy without some chemical assistance. Maybe if I had more faith, I could have prayed myself over to happy. Maybe if I just had more fill in the blank, I would always be happy.

Maybe if I had less doubts, I would always be happy.

Prescriptions

I was cleaning out some of my older files at work and found this today. When we first started, it was hard to keep up with what we needed to take when and why.

Without further ado, the Mom Take Your Medicine List: (I like to think a copy of this is still floating on the 3rd floor somewhere at High Point Regional.)

Feeling Hot?
Take your temperature. Is it over 100.5? Call George. If you cannot get George, go to the Emergency Room.

Feeling Nauseous?
Have you taken any nausea medicine?

No: Bad Mom. You are supposed to be taking Zofran (Ondansetron HCL) at 8:00 AM and when you go to bed.
Yes: Take Compazine (Proclorperazine) every 4 hours as needed between Zofran (Ondansetron HCL).

Got the Barfs?
Have you taken any nausea medicine?

No: Bad Mom. You are supposed to be taking Zofran (Ondansetron HCL) at 8:00 AM and when you go to bed.
Yes: Take Compazine (Proclorperazine), then when your stomach settles, take your next dose of Zofran (Ondansetron HCL)

If you are still throwing up after 4 hours, take another Compazine (Proclorperazine).
If you are still throwing up after 18 hours, call George.

Got the Poopies?
If you have the poopies, take Imodium by package instructions. If you have 8 poopies or less in a day, double the dose of Imodium. More than 8 poopies in a day, call George.

Got the Owwies?
Make sure your patch is on and does not need changing.
Lick a Percocet (Oxycodone w/APAP 5/325), take ½, 1, or 2 every 4 hours as needed for pain.
If you are still having major Owwies, call George.

Got the Yuck Mouth?
Swish with Magic Mouthwash. Morning/Noon/Dinner/Bedtime - If your throat is feeling sore, swallowing this will help.

Make sure you show George the yuck mouth during your next appointment

Need some Colon Cleansing?
Take Miralax by package instructions.

A Stitch in Time

It has been a very busy day. Between a wonderful Rally day and the start of Alpha, I am ready to go to bed.

If you know me, I am very protective of my personal space. If you get too close and I don't know you or if you give me a weird feeling, I will turn around and run.

I was in the Narthex today in between Sunday School and Church and saw one of the guys in Church that had some places removed a few weeks ago. I think I was still sporting the band aides while he had big white bandages. His bandages are off and so are mine at this point. So I hiked up my shirt to show him my latest stitches. I have a row about 2 inches on my rib cage on my right side from my Wednesday fun.

And then, I just realized, that church is my personal space. How wonderful is it to be in a place where people know you and accept you and love you for yourself.

Hold My Hand

Mom had gallbladder surgery the week before Thanksgiving. I remember taking a few days off so I could hang out with her until she was ready to go back to work.

We got up Wednesday morning to do the hospital thing. We checked in, Mom got wheeled around and we hung out until it was time for her to go. I went and hung out in the waiting room. My Uncle Richard came up for a while. It kept taking forever. They had said 1 - 1 1/2 hours. I kept aggravating the volunteer and finally Uncle Richard left around 1:00. The volunteer just said they were backed up and the Dr would be here soon.

After lunch, the Dr and his nurse finally came to the waiting room and began to tell me what they had found. I am in the middle of this large room, crying and trying to make sense of what they are saying. When I started to talk with them, I figured it was okay because they didn't make me go into one of the little rooms. They tell me the cancer is so involved they were not able to remove Mom's gallbladder and there are studs in her abdomen. They said that it looked like someone had blown dandelion seeds where they could see. After this, they leave and tell me Mom will be in her room soon.

I am completely shattered. I sit back down in the waiting room, by myself, crying, unsure what to do next, so sick I feel like I am going to pass out. And then, one of the women in the waiting room comes and takes my hand and tells me "Come on." She gets me something to drink and some crackers, she walks me outside, she holds my hand while I start to make calls. She stays with me until someone comes. I can't tell you what she looked like, what her name was, or why she was at the hospital that day.

The Dr had just handed me the worst day in my life, but in this day is a sweet memory of the woman that I do not know who sat and held my hand until I could feel hers.

Monkey Farts

Part of packing up Mom's house was finding all of the Christmas presents from years past. On my stove now sits a "Monkey Farts" candle (if you are wondering, it smells like Bananas). I now have a backup "Porky Pooper". (This is a pig that poops cola flavored Jelly Beans.) I am not sure where the Zoo Dude ended up (he was the frog out in the front), but just so you know, he was actually made of poop.

I never really saw the pattern until I sat down today.. I really gave Mom some crap, literally. How funny is that?

Say It Like You Mean It

One of the ladies from church called me this afternoon. I am chair of Christian Ed and we are bringing back perfect attendance awards this year. We caught up on everything, talked about Rally Day, and at the end, she told me "I love you Robin". I, without thought, said it back.

But when I got off the phone, I did think about it. My heart had jumped in and answered back, and reminded my brain, some things are so simple and pure, you don't need to think about them.

I don't say "I love you" enough. When I do some days, it sounds like a trained response. I love you... I love you too. But maybe, it is more than that. It is my heart speaking, without reserve, without the twisted thoughts that make this so hard to say, without myself protecting me from hurt and rejection.

I love you too Gayla.

World's Best Station Wagon

The Volvo is no more. Wednesday afternoon, the monster car decided to be very sick. Check engine light was back on, and the engine started skipping. I dropped it off Thursday night at my favorite place, and Friday, Addie called and told me she was very sorry. The amount of work that needed to be done to make the car safe was more than the car was worth, and she couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't need to do more (plus she was afraid for me to drive it to take it some where to trade it). [And now I don't trust the car to take me to OVU and back safely.] They were able to get it running enough for me to drive it to the Honda place to trade.

So, I am now the new Mom to a little black Honda Civic 2 door (Coupe?) with a stick shift. It has the new car smell. My cheap soul wouldn't upgrade to the Accord for leather and heated seats., but I did get power windows and the beepy thing that opens the doors. [Again, I miss the monster car.] This is the 3rd new car I have had in my life and the first one in this decade. It is a large step up from the 72 Ford Pinto that I drove in High School/College. But most importantly, it will get me where I need to go safely and reliably when I run up and down the roads, or into the office in the middle of the night. [I am still trying to talk myself into this car. I really loved the monster car and had hoped to drive it another few years. It was the perfect car when Mom was sick. I had room for everything and it ran the roads without a problem. It was the super Mom tank monster car.] My ultimate replacement car would have been a convertible C70, but I just can't swing a C70 and OVU and sleep at night.

This has been a really stressful week. Zach at school this week, the entire power issue at work, the monster car giving up the ghost, and another little piece of me ended up in a jar at some lab.

Monday, I got a call from the Dr's office that one of the biopsy's from a couple of weeks ago wasn't great, and I needed to come back in to have the area removed to a clear margin. I am sitting here this morning trying to remember the last time I had stitches. Everything is fine, but this was just more stress on an already stressful week. [On a side note, I can't move heavy stuff until this heals. I am certain that includes any type of cleaning.]

I am in and out of the office this weekend trying to get caught up and seeing if I can put a dent in the house.

I'm Only Happy When it Rains

(Title Complements of Garbage)

We have been dealing with the remnants of Fay. When I walked into the office this morning around 7:00 AM, there were members of my group that had been at work since 1:00 AM. We lost building power, one of the Monster UPS systems blew and our generator failed to start. The batteries were so hot that they were swollen. We are back up, with a few issues related to the servers coming down hard. Friday will be the never ending day as we clean up the mess and deal with the normal end of month stress.

Everything that could have gone wrong did early this morning. Two separate recovery systems failed at the same time on something that we normally drill weekly. We pulled out drop cords and moved users to alternate power sources. We brought in a fan to clear the air of the batteries trying to cool down.

And maybe that is how it is supposed to work. A crash so hard that you need to stop and evaluate your recovery systems. A crash so complete, your first priority is to get functional, and then figure out how to stop this from happening next time. You really never know how your backup systems will support the load, until you make them bear the load. And if they can't bear the load, you plan differently for the next crisis.

Clear Margins

I keep thinking each day I will feel better. In my head, I have an internal clock running, counting down the 29 days until in theory, the concentration of happy drugs in my body will magically be at the pharmaceutical level required kick me out of the funk.

I wonder what this will feel like. Will I wake up one day and not be sad?

I feel like a big stupid head whinny butt. My body hurts, I want Zach home, I want my Mommy, I hate my hair, I want to sleep. I want to stand on my tip toes and have a dancing hissy fit.

What I miss most right now is being able to call Mom on the phone. I have forgotten what she sounds like. I have forgotten what she smells like.

The Heart of the Matter

When I came home this afternoon, there were no socks under the computer table, no clothes in the bathroom, no hardened pizza on a plate wrapped in a towel, no 8 pairs of shoes beside the door, and no Zach. I could go for a couple of days and not see him, but I always knew he was here. I spent most of yesterday cleaning up his room. Did you know that Corn Pop's will eventually turn white and cats will not eat Pop Tarts off the floor? (If you have stumbled on this blog by accident and you are getting ready to go to school... CLEAN YOUR ROOM BEFORE YOU LEAVE. Do not make your Mom put on rubber gloves to pick up the stuff behind your bed. She may put it in a plastic bag and send it to school baked in your favorite cookies.)

To make matters even worse, I am now on Facebook (and Zach actually accepted me as a friend.) I don't plan to really post here, but it is nice to have a different way to talk to each other. Stan and Zach are more phone, Zach and I are more Text/Email during the week. How did parents survive this without web access?

Zach starts classes in the morning. The bulk of his classes are MWF from 8-12:35 with a couple of classes from 1-3 on Thursday. The best thing about the Friday is that he could leave after class and be most of the way home (at least in NC by dark). We will know more about his practice schedule soon.

I remember when I went to State. August 23, 1983 - I have a letter that Mom wrote me the day I went to school. We have passed that letter back and forth over the years and added notes. The more things change, the more they remain the same.

Fighting Scots

We are back home from taking Zach to OVU. (http://www.ovu.edu/ - If you look at Move In Day, you will see Stan in the pictures. Tan shirt moving a TV.)

My child almost didn't make it here. I rode with him up on the 6 hour trip. 1. We couldn't run the air conditioner because he didn't want to burn up HIS gas. Hot Mom. 2. I almost tossed his phone out of the truck several times. He didn't get the "It is illegal for you to text or talk on the phone when you are driving." 3. We played Punchbuggy on the way up. 19 - 3. (I am the 3).

We made it up late Friday night. Move in day started at 9:00 AM. What seemed like a ton of stuff (we made a huge pile before we loaded up), didn't seem like enough stuff when we unpacked it. Zach claimed the bear blanket when it made it to my house for Mom, so he is using this for a bedspread/blanket. Mom had a small TV in the other bedroom that also made the trip. (But when we hooked it up, it wouldn't change channels w/out a cable box - One of the many trips to Walmart for a TV.) 8 million pairs of underwear. I will probably be sending a care package out this week for whatever we forgot. His dorm room has Cable TV, wireless access, a shared phone w/voicemail, air conditioning and a small fridge. [I could live here.]

We had a cookout Saturday night, and we actually sat with the Dean of Students. I cried all over her and Zach's coach.

There are a ton of things around Zach. McDonalds, Old Navy, Walmart and a huge mall down the hill, so worse case, I will send him shopping if he needs something.

Zach's address:
Zachary Boraski
Mail Box 445 (Updated 8/26/08)
Ohio Valley University
1 Campus View Drive
Vienna, WV 26105

He kept his old email address: bengalboy2418@hotmail.com

They will be playing a small number of games this fall. We don't have a schedule at this point. I will let you know when they post the team pictures/biographies up on the OVU site. I need to take the film to get developed and then I will post a few pictures of the weekend.

Better Living Through Chemistry

I am a chemist by trade, not that I don't appreciate a little Fatboy Slim. I always thought I would end up somewhere studying hemoglobin in a lab with white coats and fume hoods. What can I say, quaternary structures always did something for me. Once I got past the smell of organic/biochemistry, I was hooked.

To help kick me over, I now have some more chemicals to put in my body this week after my visit w/Jason. It is a study of opposites. Medicine to make my blood pressure lower, medicine to make my mood higher, medicine to to make my skin clearer, medicine to make my bones stronger.

I haven't been able to move past the funk lately. Everything that I would normally do to snap out of this hasn't helped. So, this is the next step. A little chemical cocktail to cure what ails you.

We are in the midst of packing to leave in the morning to take Zach to school. Keep us in your thought as we run up and down the highway.

Blankets

People feel stress in different ways. Stress to me feels like a blanket.

I am lying in bed.
Mom gets sick. Throw on a blanket.
Mom gets sicker. Throw on another blanket.
Mom gets really sick. Throw on another blanket
Work. Throw on another blanket.
Mom's funeral. Throw on another blanket
Zach graduates. Throw on another blanket.
Work. Throw on another blanket.
Work again. Throw on another blanket.
Zach gets ready to go to school. Throw on another blanket.
Work more. Throw on another blanket.
We leave for school Friday. Throw on another blanket.

I am lying in bed smothered in blankets, a stack so high that I can't move. A stack so heavy that I can't breathe. How can I get everything done if I can't get out of bed?

STP

I have spent the last 3 days messing with code pages. The 2 second version - Code pages are how a computer encodes the character set for a particular standard. Think about all of the symbols in some languages. Code pages are the behind the scenes storage mechanism that is reasonably consistent across all the vendors. We are moving our primary database from one code page to another at Thanksgiving as part of our software upgrade at work. Needless to say, I am in Frgeek Girl mode this week.

Unfortunately, the soundtrack for this project right now is STP. There is nothing like writing conversion programs with "Meat Plow" in the background. It fits what I feel like I am doing to the databases right now. I probably have another 2-3 days before I start working on a different piece of this project for a while. [New app servers are coming so hopefully new music comes with them. This will make three brand spanking new PE1950's in my rack. ]

I feel as dark as the music I am hearing in my ears right now. I can't decide if I am dark because of the music or if I was dark and chose the music to fit the mood.

Body Electric

Okay, I liked the movie "Fame".

It is has been a busy day, and I am a list of lists. Between work and trying to get Zach off to school, I have become the Lady of the Lists.

Lists to me are not organizational tools, they are instruments of stress. I have always worked from a calendar/master list/task list and I feel very bound by the structure that I use to organize my day. It is the act of writing something down that actually moves it to the part of my brain that organizes my day. [I used a Palm Pilot for the longest time and actually felt more unorganized. I never got past the act of writing. It was such an effort to write a note, that I lost the path that moved this to my organizational brain. I would write the appointment down, but would never file it internally, so I always felt like I was free falling across the day.] Typing actually accomplishes the same purpose for me. Once I can organize my thoughts on paper, I no longer need the paper.

When I pulled in the driveway, I had forgotten to go to the cleaners (the tickets are on the visor, but it hadn't made it to my list) and I had the greatest idea. I wish I could associate a physical feeling with a task. I want the same sense urgency and relief when I accomplish something on my list. [Think of about going to the bathroom when you are pregnant - I want that feeling.]

I am coming into a busy week, day trip on Wednesday, Zach to school Friday and all of the stuff that needs to happen in between. I am in another round of "I can't sleep", but this is more of I can't slow my body/mind down, rather than the go to sleep and get up in the middle of the night. Have a Dr.'s appointment Thursday, so we will see if Jason has any new ideas.

Let it be

I spent most of last night on the phone with Grandma. If you know Mom, you know how stressful her relationship was with Grandma. I was never strong enough to stand up to her. I would never disagree, I would live in neutral land, never taking a stand.

Last night, enough was enough. Mom always told me if she sounded like Grandma, to tell her. That was one of her worst fears. Mom and I talked about this. I figured that Grandpa tempered Grandma, and now that he is no longer here, there is no longer a buffer.

Maybe you will read what Grandma could not hear. You will never have enough time to tell the people you love what they mean to you, even if you have forever. You will never have enough time to forget the regrets, the I wish I would have done this/said this/been this. You make the choice to hold on to the reasons that keep you from the joy of knowing and loving someone. Love is not measured by deeds or actions. Love is not conditional.

Your life is what you make of it. If you chose to sit in your hatred and jealousy, I will not sit beside you and hold your hand.

Happy Birthday Mom

Today is Mom's Birthday. Mom would be 62. I took today off to run around with Zach to try and get him ready for school. We leave next Friday.

I really had good intentions but I slept until 10:00 AM. I can't remember the last time I have slept that late. Now I have 8 million things to finish before the day ends.

I miss the stupid cards and the stuff for Mom's birthday. I miss being able to say "Happy Birthday my Mommy". I miss her.

I am the same age as Mom was when Zach was born. How different our lives are at this point. At 43, both of us were out of the house (or on our way out - Wendy got married in July and Zach was born in December.) Next week, I will have an empty house.

Wendy is a Big Stupid Head

Really, she is. A really big STUPID Head. If you don't know, Mrs. STUPID HEAD has been at the beach all week. And she doesn't love me enough to get me a $26.00 T-Shirt. (You know the one.. You called me and teased me about it...)

The more things change, the more they remain the same. I am on my way to Water Aerobics tonight. (I am thinking this counts as a bath. I am multitasking...)

Just a random thought tonight to embarrass my child..

Maybe about a month after Mom, Zach sat me down on the couch and told me... "I am having a tough time. Between baseball and Bama, I just have had a hard time this year. But if you bought me a Mustang, I think I would feel better." [Realize he worked into this. And I mean worked. He started off with baseball (I didn't see a full game this year, he only hit 2 home runs, he hurt his arm...), and after he saw that wasn't going anywhere, he added what he thought would be the ultimate I am going to win reason... Bama]

I thought about it for a couple of minutes, and told him, "I just don't love you enough for a Mustang. Good try."

And then he smiled at me. I told him he almost had me for a couple of seconds until I realized I was being played. (And if anyone is going to get a Mustang, it would be me...)

Needless to say, I was in the Bad Mom house until he needed gas money.

Zach called Mom Bama. When Zach was little, we had Nana - Stan's Mom, the Little Grandma - our Grandma because she is little, and Bama. When Zach was born, I asked Mom what she wanted him to call her.. She said Pat. Somehow we worked into Bama. For about 2 seconds, Zach called her the Big Grandma (but this did not go over well).

Running on Empty

I have had a package on my mail trunk for a few days from PCUSA Theology Worship and Education. From my blog, you can tell I am an active Elder at this point, I teach a Sunday School Class (the best class in the entire world), and have been wrestling with both my faith, my call, and the actions of my denomination

So when I am in doubt, I go back to the beginning. I read my Bible, I try to be still and listen to God's purpose in my life. I joined a group called Order of Elders that I found the PCUSA site. Part of the commitment is to read daily, pray daily for our church, and make an active effort to follow the Lectionary reading. We are also reading Psalms over and over this year. Another part of the commitment is to read as a group and discuss a few books that are sent to us during the year.

I finally got around to opening the package this afternoon. The book for this quarter is called "Running on Empty: Contemplative Spirituality for Overachievers" by Fil Anderson. The book was enclosed with a letter from Rev Stephany Jackson, one of the partners on the staff team.

Just to pull out a few words from his letter. ".. recognize how much more important it is to be the church than it is to do all of the things that need to be done in the church." Plus there were some Jackson Browne lyrics (Do you know this song was a hit in 1978?)

In the mail, I just got the right book at the right time. When I needed a push, it came in a brown package today. When you hear some people talk about how God works in their lives, you hear stories of great action, revelation, and great purpose. I wish I was one of those people who saw the burning bush or heard the voice in the night. I wish I had this loud boisterous faith that seems so steady and all consuming.

But that is not me and mine. It is in the quiet still that I find God, and the subtle pushes and pulls that he places in my life, are as loud to me as anything I can imagine. I am not sure he needs to be loud right now when I feel Him so close.

Band Aid Test

If you have seen me around this week, you know I am sporting a BandAid on the left side of my face. There are a couple more in other places, but the one on my face is the one you can see.

It is amazing how having something on your face can change your entire attitude. When I look at myself in the mirror this week, I have these huge circles under my eyes and this stupid BandAid on my face and a chin full of monster zits. Needless to say, I am feeling great about myself this week. I am so out of sorts with my outside this week, it is creating all kinds of havoc inside.

Wednesday was the beginning of Doctor Fest 2008, and to celebrate, there are now 3 little pieces of me sitting in line at some lab waiting for their turn. Doctor Fest 2008 will run the next couple of weeks and will probably bring a couple more lectures (eat right, exercise, stop smoking, stop stressing, stay out of the sun, stop taking advil like it is candy) . Needless to say, strangeness abounds the next couple of weeks.

You know who you are

You know pieces of me. You know my birthday because you were there. You may remember what I looked like, you may remember your name for me, but you don't know me.

You don't know my sister. You don't know what you missed. (If you found this, maybe you get a glimpse.)

We wonder why, Wendy and I. We wonder for different reasons, but we wonder. We were afraid to look around at Mom's funeral because we thought we might see you there (or someone we thought might have been you). We were afraid to look at our mail, because we thought you might try to contact us.

You know who you are. And we are as protective of each other as Mom was of us.

And all God needs is gravity to hold me down

[Gravity - Allison Krauss]

I have been in a strange place the past couple of days. Honestly, most of yesterday was good. I did what I needed to do at work, the nice guys at PA Smith fixed the monster car, and Angie didn't lie when she said, "The more often you do yardwork, the less it hurts."

But I am driving back from Cary, and I pass Wake Med, and just start to cry. That hospital is the beginning. In my head, Mom was doing okay. She was weak, but okay before we ended up here. This is where we started with Hospice, this is where Mom refused the NG tube, this is where we got the DNR papers, this is where how this was going to end became real. This is where Mom took off the necklace that is around my neck. This is the last time Mom rode in a car with me. This is where everything moves into light speed.

I know, some days, you just put your head down and do whatever needs to be done. When we came back home, it was like Freaky Friday. Mom take your medicine, Mom you can't eat that, Mom you need to do this, Mom you need to do that, Mom take some more medicine.

I became Martha when I wanted to be Mary. I became the parent when I wanted so much to still be the child. I became the me that you see when I really liked the old me.

The circus is falling down on its knees

Counting Crows is providing the soundtrack for tonight's cry.


The big top is crumbling down

I need a rain coat.

I need a big love.

Where you should be, no one's around.

And I get no answers
And I don't get no change
It's raining in Baltimore, baby
But everything else is the same

Theres things I remember and things I forget
I miss you
I guess that I should
Three thousand five hundred miles away
But what would you change if you could?




A long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leaven'
Now the days go by so fast

And talked a little while about the year
I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower,
Makes you talk a little lower about the things you could not show her
And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass

Good Grief Charlie Brown

Before I started the Hospice group, in my mind, it was the end all be all experience that would make everything perfect. I would learn how to deal with whatever made me cry and at the end, I would be over this. I would be one of those people who has made peace with this year and everything that has happened.

But I can't make myself go to this right now. I have missed the last 3 weeks and honestly, am not planning to go to the last 2 meetings. I just can't walk into the building. I just can't sit in the room and say Mom's name. I am not ready for this to be real.

There are things I need to say that I can't. I can't give the horror and fear of these days to anyone else to bear in their heart. So here I will stay for a while. Until I am not afraid and the day to day memories are not so painful. And then I will try again.

Table and Hairs

I have Mood Hair. The blond streakies just weren't me. Mom had some hair thing that had a comb and wires and hair and strange stuff. I never could figure out how to wear it for real, and I don't know if it ever came out in the light of day, but it is my new color. [If you have been to Mom's, this hung out in the middle of the sinks in her bathroom.] I brought it today and asked Gina to match this. [She said I was the first person to bring hair to match.] It is more brownish red with some blond highlights. It is closer to how I normally think of my hair. In the past few months, I have been black, brown, blond and now reddish brown. You would think my hair would just be so mad it would just fall out at this point.

Now for the table side of this. I have finally cleaned off the kitchen table. It has been covered with cards and thank you notes for Mom, plus Zach's graduation announcements. Every time I looked at all the stuff on this table, I broke out in hives. We haven't eaten at our dinner table in several months.

Bear with me now for a minute. On a side note, during Session, I asked that we bring the Communion Table back to the front of the church. [After the fact, I called it a rant.] It has been pushed to the side under the pulpit. I really have spent some time in thought and prayer over why this was so important to me. I ended up reading "Invitation to Christ" from the PCUSA site. They talked about churches that have the Communion Table so cluttered with other things or is away from view, that the purpose of this table gets forgotten. To come back to my dinner table, if the table is cluttered, you are not using it for it's original purpose: to be a place where you can come together as a family and eat and share. And to take it a step more, when you are hungry, you know that when you sit here, you will be in a place of love and will be fed.

To bring this to me, if I am cluttered, I am not being used for my original purpose. And I have been cluttered with grief, anger, and doubts.

Birthday Girl

Mom got her first birthday card today. The pharmacy that did the compounding for the BHR suppositories sent her a birthday card. Just a little background on these guys. Tom Jones Compounding Pharmacy is located in Garner. (They are in the process of moving.) Mr. Jones is an active supporter of Hospice. We wore the same painful shoes. Normally, we would get our meds from the Hospice pharmacy, but Mom was allergic to Ativan [It usually has a A in the name. ABHR]. This particular suppository needed to be specially made. I think I blogged earlier about the day and how crazy this was, but Mr. Jones waited for me and stuck candy in my bag. The card is bittersweet. It reminds me that we will miss this birthday together, but it also reminds me of the kind and caring people that helped me take care of Mom.

For an Early Mom Birthday Story. When Mom was in Charlotte, she thought she was 59. For some reason, Ron helped her with the math and she realized she was 60 instead of 59. I remember her calling me and asking me how old she was. I don't know if she just decided she wasn't going to be 60 or what. I am glad it wasn't ME that told her.

If you don't know, Mom and I had a running rule. This rule came into being when she started dating again after Dad died. - You are not allowed to date anyone younger than me and I will not date anyone older that you. - So if you dated Mom, and I met you , the first question out of my mouth was "How old are you?". Just know, I was just making sure we were in dating rule compliance.

Drink Me. Eat Me.

I feel like Alice. Mom's makeup and assorted lotions, oils and mysterious powders came back with me this weekend from Wendy's. I always liked taking a shower at Mom's because of the rows and rows of stuff. I would normally scrub off the top layer of my skin, my hair would drip oil and my face would break out from trying out all of the stuff in there.

All of Mom's stuff is saying Try Me. The smelly bath power, the blue eye liner and the bright coral blush.

If you see me, and if I am either covered in a big rash, have bright cheeks or some other strange makeup thing going on, just smile.

Ugly Dog and Eddie

Eddie has claimed the Ugly Dog as his latest toy. I bought the Ugly Dog [Look for Ugly Dolls on www.uncommongoods.com. If you haven't seen this site, it is one of my more favorites as far as unique gifts and really great customer service. Trust me, I have a thing for moving boxes and little patience for companies that don't/can't do this efficiently.] for Mom for her birthday last year because she has this uncommon love for dogs. [Right... One of my fondest memories is hearing Mom yelling at the dogs next door in the middle of the night. Barking dogs and crying babies would set her off like nothing else.]

Over the years, Becky (I acquired Becky by marriage. It was a package deal.) would send Mom cards and we would dream up recipes that featured Becky: Becky Burgers, Becky Noodle Casserole, Becky Burgundy.. [You get the picture. Shoot me. We are just not dog people. Some days, we were not nice people at all. You know Mom. You have a good idea about my sense of humor and my take on things. Imagine us together when we are in rare form. Becky did not suffer because I was not a dog person. She ate well and had a good life.]

When Mom was still at home, Doni came to spend the night with Mom and brought Chrissy. Doni would tell me how much Mom loved Chrissy. I am thinking.. Okay, right.. This dog prances in and jumps up on the couch with Mom, and Mom LET HER. She is actually letting this dog lie on the Bear blanket and is talking to her. I am thinking I need to get on my knees because the world is getting ready to end. Doni can vouch for the look on my face. Amazement and fear. Mom was thinking about getting a treat jar for Chrissy. [Mom is getting the DOG a treat jar and I don't have a treat jar at her house. The injustice of it all.]

So back to the beginning. Mom would get a kick seeing Eddie hauling around the Ugly Dog in his mouth. He usually ends up with any type of animal Mom would send in his toy box anyway, so I am not sure why I thought this would be any different.

Vicks Vapor Inhaler

I have spent most of the day with my head in a box. Some stuff I have set aside, some stuff is getting worked into my house, and some stuff is finally getting thrown away. (The 2 inch lip pencil from 1970 and the petrified sweet and sour packages.)

But I found an old Vicks Vapor Inhaler. You know these.. They look like an elongated bullet, perfect to put in your purse for a hit when you just can't walk around with a stripe of Vicks under your nose. Mom and I had a secret addition to Vicks, especially the Vicks Inhaler. Not that we didn't love all forms of Vicks: Vicks in the vaporizer, Shower Vicks, Lotion Vicks, Plug in Vicks and the new Vicks Patch, but the Inhaler was our delivery method of choice. [Dr: How did you get this new nose crud fungus virus bacterial infection? I have never seen anything quite like it. I am quite astounded. It defies all explanation. I will need to call the CDC and you will need to be put in strict isolation. Do you have any idea of how you contracted this dreaded nose junk? Me: My Mom and I were doing Vick Inhaler shots. ]

No matter how gross and twisted this may seem, this was one of my better finds in Mom's stuff.

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell

Today is day to wrap up a couple of loose ends. (Song complements of Matchbox 20.)

One of the more helpful books I have read lately is by Nancy and David Guthrie, "When Your Family's Lost a Loved One." Nancy is writing a letter to her daughter Hope a few months after she died. "But you are so far away and becoming even more distant in my memory and it is so painful. And I feel weak. I used to fell strong - when you where here and in the months after you left-I hurt but felt strong spiritually, emotionally. Now I just feel numb and weak and lacking purpose. I don't know how to let you go and hold onto you at the same time. I don't know how to feel pain and embrace joy at the same time. Forgive me for going on with life without you. Forgive me for forgetting what you sound like and what you looked like and what it felt like. "

I spent the day at Wendy's. I have started the boxes of stuff for you. For the bulk of the stuff boxes, I know how to get in touch with you but not everyone. So we will play Clue for the people I don't have a current address.

If you are reading this, and you ate dinner with Mom and I at Olive Garden in Cary a few years ago for my birthday, I have the letters you wrote Mom. She made me promise to get these if something happened. [Or if you know who this is and can let them know, that would be great.] If you would like to have these, please send me an email.

If you watched OJ and the white bronco at Mom's house with me, I also have letters for you.

There were a couple of good finds today. Ron - I found a chalk drawing of you and Mom. Will send your way. You guys were very cute. There were also a bunch of Mom cartoons. If these have meaning to you, please let me know and I will send them your way.

Wendy and I also found our adoption papers along with Mom's today. Did you know, Mom's middle name before she was adopted was Earline. How good is that? Can you not just see the look on her face I would get over that.

Secret Night

I am not the person who can tell you about what I dreamed the night before. I have a friend who has the most incredible and busy dream life, I wonder how she is able to get out of bed some days. Even during the nightmare weeks, I would never remember the what of the dream, only the terror. I know I dream but I can only count a handful of dreams that I remember past the morning.

Last night was my first night home alone since Mom. Zach was at the beach and Stan was at work. And in this secret night, I wished for a dream with Mom. But instead, I lay awake, listening to the sounds of my house until morning.

The Spirituality of Imperfection

More books. This one was given to me a few years back by a friend. I loaned it to Mom for a while but it set on the shelf and ended up back on the nightstand. Clark read a passage from this during Mom's Eulogy.

During the days and weeks after Mom, my internal voice was very loud. "Why didn't she call? Why aren't they here? Why did he say that? How could you? How could they? How could she? Doesn't she know? Don't they know?" It was a running, incredibly draining dialogue in my head all during this time. The anger was so vivid, I thought I would burst into flames. [On a random note, I guess that explains the endless crying. It was to keep me too moist to combust.]

And in my anger, I decided that I would be the best person ever when this happened to someone else that I knew. I would know the right things to say, the right things to do, and whenever anyone mentioned my name, the memory of how much comfort and compassion I showed to them during their time would overshadow anything they had ever known before.

And then life intruded. I went to a funeral and could barely speak. I met friends in similar situations and my fear kept me away. I did not speak because I did not know how to give them comfort. My wish to give comfort was consumed by my awkwardness.

And in my awkwardness, my anger turned to understanding. How hard this is for everyone. When you see me, you see what you can lose. When I see you, I see what I have lost. And somehow, we imperfectly move on together to fill the spaces in my heart my anger once held.

The Sugar Queen

I just finished a couple of books by Sarah Addison Allen. I started with the Sugar Queen and wrapped up with Garden Spells. Both of her books were most wonderful. It made me wish I had an apple tree in my back yard and Chloe's gift with books. My most wonderful librarian is 3 for 3. [On a side note, without my library card, I would always be broke. How wonderful is it to be able to walk into a place and borrow as many books as you can possibly read as many times as you can possibly imagine. To make it even worse, I have a library card that fits on my key chain. ]

It is almost time for my oil change and check up. I have appointments next month with everybody. I usually try and schedule everything around my birthday to keep track. I think the one I dread the most is with Dr. Clark. She has been my GYN for at least 10 years. She never fails to ask about Mom. She told me once after she had met Mom, that she would know she was my Mom without being introduced.

With Dr's visits, there is just the added level of terror at this point. Not being able to provide any type of history except Mom's kicks me right over the edge. I guess this is what happens when you watch too many shows on Discovery.

GA 218

Mom and I are both Presbyterians. We have both served on Session. I came back on Session this year. Last night, we began trying to reconcile the events of GA during our session meeting. Like the news releases, these actions have the potential to tear our denomination apart.

I have spent a good deal of time on the PCUSA site, and it will take days/weeks for me to understand the implications of what took place this year. But as I read and wander the web, one thought stands out in my head. "God doesn't call us to a denomination, he calls us to unity."

Casting On

We just started a Prayer Shawl group at church. [Google: Prayer Shawl and be amazed]. I am really excited but I couldn't remember how to cast on. Finally, I stopped thinking, looking at the 8 million different books I had and let my hands take over. My hands remembered what my head could not bring to the forefront.

I thought about some of the new things that have been in my life lately. My bike has come back out, I am taking more pictures with Mom's camera, I went to the Prayer Shawl group, I am back in Choir and I back reading. I am very excited. I am not a creative person by any stretch. I always considered knitting structured creativity. I would starve if I had a good book.

It has taken a while to get back into the loudness of life. It is like knitting, I just needed to clear my head and let my self take over.

Hospice Hooky

Yep.. I am playing hooky tonight. I am sitting at my desk, eating Chicken Lasagna and a real tomato, chasing it with a delicious glass of water. If I didn't have a breakfast meeting in the O'Early AM, I would be chasing it with a delicious glass (or 2) of wine. Just back from the library with new books, and I am in my PJ's . Recycling is out, cats are fed, and my house is as clean as it is going to get tonight.

I just am not in the mood to do the "grieving work" tonight. What happens when you have cried enough? What fills the space your tears once held? I can't believe anything right now is that big.

Plush

(Title complements of STP)

This is my hill climbing song. [Like I said, Pavlov's Dog.] If I can make it to the end of the song, I will usually coast down with some Dave Matthew's until I catch my breath on the trainer.

I wish I could figure out the song to switch my life into coast for a while. I am dreading August in a fierce way. Between Mom's birthday and Zach going to school, I am out of sorts. I have a letter from Mom the August I went to school (1983) that we have passed back and forth. Why is this so hard?

You only get one shot do not miss your chance to blow. This opportunity comes once in a life time.

Once I am able to move something to the blog, it seems to make room in my head for other stuff. This is a good thing, because it is pretty crowded in my head right now.

I have had a hard time connecting back with my life before Mom was sick. I feel like I have lost a couple of layers of skin and everything is either itchy or raw.

This week brought a new hair cut. (More perkiness.. As my hair gets shorter, my butt is getting wider. I am about ready to be healthly again. Less junk and more exercise.)

I actually was going to skip my Hospice class this week, but one of the group guys called to meet me for ice cream beforehand. We had a great time, and were actually late.

I had dinner with another friend from church Wednesday that is almost finished with her radiation. It was beyond words wonderful.

What a memory I would have missed if I had not gone to both of these. Which brings us to the title of the blog. Bonus points if you know the song. Do not miss your chance to blow. Do not miss your chance to be a friend. Do not miss a chance to invite someone into your life.

If you know me, you know that important projects that I work on get assigned a soundtrack. It is like Pavlov's Dog, when the headphones go on and the CD starts to play, I know it is time to work on a certain project. With that in mind, Mom had a soundtrack. I would put it on when I would drive back and forth to Greensboro. So, without further delay, the Mom CD.

1. Heavy - Collective Soul
2. Hurt - Johnny Cash
3. Breathe - Anna Nalick
4. I'm Not Ready to Make Nice - Dixie Chicks
5. How Beautiful are the Feet
6. Where Does the Good Go? - Tegan & Sara
7. There's a Girl - The Ditty Bops
8. Thunder Road - Bonnie Prince Billy with Tortoise
9. The Long Day is Over - Norah Jones
10. Best of You - Foo Fighers
11. My Aim is True - Elvis Costello
12. Jagged Little Pill - Alanis Morisette
13. Simple - kd lang
14. Given to Fly - Pearl Jam
15. Save Me - Dave Matthews
16. All Alone - Gorillaz
17. Satellite Baby - Roosevelt Sykes

Needless to say, this is the only time this group of artists will appear together on a single CD. Not to call anyone out, but Track 5 is for Dr. Z. If you heard Mom talk about her Healing Prayer group, this should bring a smile to your face.

Friends and Funerals

If I am with you, do not talk about how your Mom gets on your nerves or how she calls you every day for absolutely no reason or how you couldn't live with her. Because your wishes are my heart's deepest desire. And to hear them spoken, even out of anger, does not diminish how I long to be able to say them.

One of my dear church ladies passed away over the weekend. [I need different words here. Jumped into the arms of our loving God. ] I am in the process of finding a dress that fits to go to visitation before my Christian Education meeting. Her visitation is at church, rather than across the street at Greg's. [I think I will have better chance at church than the funeral home.] When I look at her family, what will I see? Will I see the weariness? Will I see the dullness? Will I see the sadness? Will I see me?

The Last Straw

I mean this literally instead of figuratively. I just used the last straw. If you are like me, straws are not a normal thing on your grocery list. I had straws in my house because they worked for Mom. And now, there are no more straws.

Today, I can't believe my Mom is not here with me. I can't believe that I just can't pick up the phone and call her. I can't believe when I wake up in the night, she is not down the hall.

So today, I will pretend that she is with you in Greensboro getting ready to go out for drinks and I will talk to her over the weekend.

Dear Wendy - Part 2

Wendy is at the beach this week. I talked with her last night. She told me she thought I was doing better, then she would read my blog and think that I really wasn't moving forward.

I thought about this today, and I think I am moving forward. Not that some days aren't hard, but I am sleeping more at night, and not running down the hall. I still water my face pretty frequently, but I am in back in the world.

As you can tell, Wendy and I are as opposite as you can be. But when this started, we told each other we could do it together. Neither one of us could be everything by ourselves, but together we could do it. And it's like I told Mom.. "It's okay. We'll be okay."

Dear Wendy

I love you best. It is my job to boss you around. No one else gets that job. You are a big stupid head.

Love,
Robin

Home is where you hang your heart

For some reason, I have always called Greensboro home. I have been in Fuquay longer than I lived in Greensboro. When I went away to State in 83, I think I lived at home one more summer between my Freshman and Sophomore year. Essentially, I have lived more of my life this way than in Greensboro.

But Fuquay is where I hang my heart. We just finished VBS tonight and I am content. I think about my church family, and my heart is full. God calls us together to worship, and in this call, we find the joy of people that we would have never known otherwise.

For the care my church family has given me, I am grateful. For the freedom they give me to share my Big Loud God with my Sunday School class, I am grateful. For the unconditional acceptance and love that they give me, I am grateful. For their prayers, both as a church family and in secret, I am grateful. For their support and comfort, I am grateful. And this is where I hang my heart.

Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of shadow on it.

The Hospice bereavement group started last night. Essentially, what is said in the room, stays in the room. For some reason, I thought everyone in the group would be exactly like me and have my exact same experience. Instead, the only thing that we have in common is that we are together at this same point, and the experiences that have brought us here are as different as we are.


One of the initial introductions, before we told the why, was to say our name and the person that has invited us here. (I think invite is my word, not the facilitator's. He may have said something to the effect of "Who have you lost?", but really Mom has invited me to this table.)


To say this was so very hard. And I think back to the words that I chose for Mom's funeral. "Let my name be ever the household word that it always was, Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of shadow on it." When I chose this cannon for Mom, these words were so important to me and what I had hoped for everyone that knew her.

So maybe this is the starting point.

My name is Robin. My Mom invited me here. Her name was Pat and I loved her very much.

Beginner's Greek - James Collins

You would not believe the effort that has gone in to me reading this book. The librarian recommended it, put it on hold for me. I was too late to pick it up the first time. Back on hold, I missed it again, somehow it gets put on the New Books shelf and I grab it. I don't read it. It goes back to the library, I get shamed by the librarian, back on hold and I finally pick it up.

My excuse was "I am in a strange reading place right now." And she tells me.. "Good, this is a strange book."

And, when I picked it up, I couldn't put it down. When I started, I never believed it would actually end how I hoped. Not that it isn't strange, but if you get a chance, pick this guy up.

As far as authors, I usually hang out in the "How to Build a Car from Scratch", anything from Reynold Price, an occasional biography and whatever series has a new book. [Honestly, I read about anything. My only requirement is that you are a prolific writer. If you happen to write good stuff, that is icing on the cake. What I read for work is so incredibly boring, cereal boxes are an entertaining read to me.]

My goal in life is to read the library. I want to start at the A's and work all the way to 999.99. [This will tell you how bad I am.. When they rearranged the shelves in the library, I was confused for weeks. How dare they move the R's to the next rack..]