clickmom

keep out

When I got home from Florida I quickly ordered the entire set of prints and frames I am going to need for my own solo show opening that I am supposed to hang on the 24th.  I was going to casually place this order in plenty of time the day I flew off to be by dad's side during what I thought was pneumonia.  Back then, 10 days earlier I was right on schedule for ordering some test prints before placing the whole order.  However 10 days later I was trying not to panic.  

When ordering I bit the bullet and opted for the speedier 2 day shipping on my already way over budget order.  I finally got the "your order has been shipped" email for the photos on Thursday, so yesterday I tracked my package and was thrilled to learn that it had arrived at the sorting center 15 minutes from my house.  I grabbed the phone and gave the customer service lady on the other end my tracking number only to be told that I had to wait until Monday for my package which was being held captive in a container with approximately 1,300 packages that were not going to be sorted over the weekend - and because my package had not been specified for before 10AM delivery it could come as late as 7PM.  AAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!

Since we were headed over there to the fedex place anyway  (I made the husband return that birthday gift that made me cry in a bad way) I tried to plead my case to the fedex people in person.  There was a guy and a lady in the place so I figured I would use all of my feminine wiles to charm the pants off the guy because I suspected the lady was the one that had already shot down my dreams of an all weekend framing marathon earlier in the day.  The only problem was that the guy had at least 5 year build up of whitish plaque covering the outline of every single one of his visible teeth and I could not bear to look in his direction fearing that my gaze would wander south of his nose and I would lose my lunch all over the fedex counter.  He pretty much gave me the same lame "wah wah there are too many packages in there for us to find yours" shpiel as the lady did anyway, so package-ically defeated and fearing my own impending regurgitation,  I skulked outside and waited down trodden for the husband in the car.

Since I didn't have my photos, but I did have the unassembled frame parts, I took over the formal living room (It's a 1950's house thing) creating a framing production line and partially assembled about 20 of the frames last night.  It was actually kind of mechanical and even a bit therapeutic, in a mindless screwing in pre-drilled screws kind of way.  I can't finish putting the frames together without the photos.  Tonight I'll do the first part of the rest of the frames and then when the photos show up tomorrow I will slip them into the frames and hopefully have them completed in another two or three (or more realistically 5) days.  Hanging Day for the show isn't until Tuesday the 24th, so in the end I am still ahead of deadline, with my un-proofed photos (cross your fingers for me!).  In the mean time, NO ONE is allowed in the living room.

PEMMISSNA, KTRT, and MKASA

To fulfill my exercise requirement for Operation "Physically Exhaust Myself and Maybe I'll Start Sleeping Normal Again"  (or PEMMISSNA) .I took a spin class with Mary Lou this morning.  I got to the posh club a few minutes early so I did some crunches, push ups and an upper body weight machine first.  Then I was off to spin class.  Now, I adore Mary Lou and when she yells "turn it up!" I have to turn my resistance up.  She inspires me.   I gave it my all and Mary Lou wasn't holding anything back today.  For that reason 45 minutes into the 1 hour class I realized that I was wondering if my wobbly legs were going to give out and cause me to come crashing down into one of the unsuspecting ladies on either side of me.  I made the wise decision to slip out of the class 15 minutes early.

To fulfill my daily routine requirement for Operation "Keep The Routine Typical So I Will Feel Back To Normal Sooner Rather Than Later" (or KTRT for short) I also went to a life drawing class that Peanut organized.  Instead of a full body drawing I did a head and shoulders portrait.  I have wanted to draw/paint portraits for as long as I can remember and I decided that I am going to do a portrait a day.  Usually I draw in charcoal but for this experiment I am going to primarily use a soft pencil.  Maybe a charcoal pencil, even though the way I prefer to draw is with tiny little pieces of broken vine charcoal that I scrape and rub and erase.  Maybe I will even do a program like Drawing On The Right Side of The Brain of something.  I dunno, right now I just want to get better at making the drawing look like the person in front of me.  I can dash off a great drawing that looks completely realistic and totally human except not always resemble the actual person in front of me.  I was greatly encouraged today when during a break the model walked past my drawing and exclaimed "Wow!  You really captured me!" because I figure if she thought it looked like herself then I was going on the right direction.  One thing though, is that she has the kind of eyes I am good at drawing, my drawings of the last model kind of looked like today's model since I am not so great at duplicating the last model's features.  

In the "My Kids Are So Amazing I Can't Stand It" (or MKASA for short) category,

1. Evan got a new cell phone after not having one for 4 months or so because he lost the old one.  Evan has taken a liking to texting.  He texts only me so far, and this is what he has to say:

"Sup"

"Yo"

"Moo"

"Bark"

"Caw"

Obviously Evan is Dr. Doolittle the strong "man of few words" type.

It probably didn't help that my replies went like this:

"I love you fuzzy bunny!"

"Baa"

"Oink"

"Meow"

2. Josh, who sometimes talks like a very polite grown up which makes it very hard for me to not lean over and take a bite of him to see if he actually and truly tastes as sweet as he sounds,  is in love with a real in the flesh person, as opposed to his first virtual person crush, Dora.  Josh's actual human crush is named Hannah and last night when Josh was waxing poetic about the unfolding of their mutual love for each other, he mentioned that he is quite sure that Hannah does love him, he sees this through her actions, but he wasn't sure if she herself recognized the actual depth of her feelings for him.  I requested that he go slow due to his advanced age of 8 and all.  I wouldn't want him to rush into anything.

3. Matt and his band signed on to play in some kind of band contest later this month.  The catch is that the bands have to play original songs.  Matt, who loves to explore every aspect of making music,  has already written some songs, and with his personal advanced for his age wisdom decided on his own that maybe playing the song that has some kind of pedophile reference/undertone in it is not a good idea when you are playing in a band contest held in a church.  He won't let me preview the songs before the contest.  Cross your fingers.

catching z

Okay, Wednesdays are Bubbles days and my plan yesterday was to have my morning work out and NOT take a nap during the day.  Then I figured I could dip into my vast herbal pharmacy and find something to help me get a little sleep.  

I went to the posh club as planned and did 35 minutes of cardio and then lifted with Bubbles.  That went well.  My cardio was more low key than usual because I figured that between the almost two weeks since I had been at the gym and the same amount of sleep deprivation, not to mention all the stress, that this was my best move for a smooth reentry into the wonderful world of activity.

I hung out chatting and socializing in the locker room and then I went to whole foods for the first time since I got home.  I have been avoiding WF because I know everyone there and I didn't want to be asked where I had been.  I did my shopping and then hopped in the car to come home.

As I drove down my street I was overcome with tiredness.  I wondered of I could leave the groceries in the car for two hours until Matt got home from school.  Then I felt overwhelmed by the thought of just walking into the house.  I parked backwards so that the trunk was closer to the door and then I slipped the key out of the ignition.  The radio stays on in my truck for 10 minutes when no one opens a door and I thought to myself that I would just sit and listen to the end of the song that was playing before I dragged myself out of the car.  I woke up 90 minutes later sitting up straight with the keys still in my hand.  I was in the middle of another anxiety attack. This time I wasn't dreaming about having a heart attack or exercising to hard, I was dreaming about talking to a couple and realizing that either one of them or both of them poses  a threat to me and I was scared out of my mind trying to come up with a method of escape.  Because the car was turned the opposite way I usually park, for a few seconds I had no idea where I was.  

I forced myself to come to consciousness and I had to sit there in my cold car for another 20 minutes before I could summon the strength to get out and gather up the groceries and go inside.

I decided on lemon balm as my herb for the evening.  I considered valerian root, but decided it might be too hard core and the part in the wikipedia entry where it says it could possibly have the opposite effect of agitation if you can't digest it properly.  That was the last thing I needed.  And we all know my digestion is screwed up.

I actually slept fairly well last night.  Whew!  

Waking up still wasn't fun, but I was relieved that I hadn't dreamed.

Today I felt much more emotionally stable, I credit the sleep.  Now I am going to try again, I did some cardio today too, I managed not to nap, and I just downed a big dose of lemon balm again.  My fingers are crossed.  Two nights in a row of sleep wold be totally sweet.

snippets

There are so many little things I want to explore here, and I don't have the mind frame to string them into something that makes sense (I think) so I'm just going to a little free association or some thing that doesn't make sense here.  Maybe.  I dunno, I got things to say.  I just want to get these thoughts out.

******First: On the day that I got the call that dad was on his way to the hospital with what they thought was pneumonia I raced home to have my freak out.  And freak out I did.  Even the little voice of reason in the back of my head was saying "Whoa sister! Take it down a notch!" Except I couldn't.  There was something about dad having pneumonia that just didn't make sense to me.  I was in full out panic mode.  My overstepping house cleaning guy happened to be here to witness my freakitude and having known my dad during that time when mom and dad were stuck here getting treatment for mom's incurable cancer, the nosy housekeeper was concerned. So he called me on my cell the next day to see if dad was okay.  And I don't remember what I told him, but really, how thoughtful was that?  I mean, really, sometimes a girl has to stop and marvel at how thoughtful her cleaning guy can be.  I think it might be time for a raise.

Anyway, I knew that when my intrusive cleaning guy showed up and we were all in florida the next week he would know things were bad down in florida.  And he did figure it out, so he did some nice stuff like clean out the fridge so I didn't come home to bags of liquified vegetables and a rotting bowl of fruit on the kitchen island, like that.  I really appreciated it too when I got home and the kitchen didn't stink.

So cleaner guy came the other day and he and his pretty young partner 2nd wife tip toed hesitantly into the house, afraid to see what kind of mess I was going to be this time around and I gave them the "Yes, it was the worst thing that happened nod" and the wife came over and hugged me and then they asked me lots of questions and then at the end of my dreadfully long story (which I keep telling over and over and can not for the life of me figure out how to tell in less than a torturous eternity) cleaner guy said that he didn't know exactly what I was going through since his parents are still here, but that when he was going through his terrible divorce (his first wife was loco!) his mother sat him down and gave him some advice.  Cleaner guys mother said that in times of mourning we can turn to many things.  She said we can turn to alcohol, we can turn to drugs, or we can go to the gym.  Then she told him to go to the gym.  Cleaner guy opted for the gym method, with some church thrown in for good measure, and when I thought about that time in his life and he did do remarkably well way back when that shit for brains trampy first wife dumped him.  

*******And you know what else?

I think that maybe if I had exercised this summer after mom died I might have snapped back a bit faster than I did.  So I am getting off of my butt and going back to the gym tomorrow.  Which will probably help with my post parental death sleep issues.  I can't fall asleep or stay asleep at night until about 2 hours before the alarm goes off.  Getting out of bed hurts.  And this time, I have that f-ing day light savings leap ahead bullshit time disturbance happening at the same time.  Nothing sucks quite like waking up in the pitch blackness of night after a less than refreshing 2 solid hours of post anxiety attack sleep.

You see, every once in a blue moon, when things are as bad as they feel like they can ever get, I get anxiety attacks.  I get them in my sleep and I wake up all night long full throttle in the middle of the attacks wondering if I am having my own middle of the night heart attack.  But now I know what they are and my heart might be broken over here, but what is going on is anxiety.  

I am exhausted from the last 10 days.  I am so tired that I keep falling asleep in the middle of the day, which surely doesn't make it any easier for me to get a good night's sleep.  Pretty much if I sit down in the afternoon my eyes roll back in my head and I am gone for a solid hour or two.  I think going back to the gym will help in that department too. I'm banking on it.  I know I have to not sleep in the day, it messes me up during the easy times.

******In the "This is really nice" department, just about everyone who knew dad says the same thing, and that is that they loved him.  Even his doctor told my aunt that he loved dad.   It's all love love love and I'm so glad that dad was on the receiving end of all that love.  One of the sweetest reactions came from dads housekeeper.  This lady has worked for mom and dad for years, and I know that since mom passed away the housekeeper has been stopping by when she worked for other people nearby and doing some extra straightening up for dad.  When I called to speak to her and let her know dad had died too she was really broken up, and through her sobs, in broken english she said she didn't know the right words to say this in English, but she wanted me know that she was in pain and would miss him so much because "He was her father too." and then I totally cried along with her because I got what she meant.

It warms my heart to know dad was so cared about.

******** When my babes asked me if they should (BTW- some of them were scouring the internet to figure out what the whole shiva thing is about,  talk about caring, isn't that sweet?)  bring food to shiva I knew that there was already an overabundance of deli platter on order (and I have the thick water retaining ball park frank plumped like fingers to prove that I have almost consumed my weight in corned beef) so I asked them to bring me fruit and they made me a big fruit salad.  Some of the juices leaked out of the fruit so now I have this delectable bowl of cut fruit in tropical fruit juice and it's just about everything I can do not to grab the gallon sized bottle of (gluten free!) potato vodka and set myself up for the night frat boy style with a funnel and a flexible tube and my vodka laced tropical fruit punch. 

Except I am taking cleaner guys mother's advice and working this through in the gym.  I just got off the phone with bubbles who told that she will help me sweat my grief away tomorrow.  I am a little bit scared.  And sober to boot.

reunited

Dad has been working with federal authorities on the Madoff case lately.  He has been interviewing people who lost their money.

One lady, who knows dad and that he was widowed last June, sobs to dad towards the end of the interview and cries out  "You don't know what I have been through, I've lost everything!" And dad leaned forward and told the lady "You lost money, I have lost everything."

Dad found is everything tonight, and not a moment too soon.  Tomorrow is their 37th anniversary and now they can celebrate together.

                                     DAD

                                1919-2009

waiting

Dad is still hanging in there.  We sit around his bed and watch him breathe every day.  Some times he breathes heavily, sometimes he breathes rapidly and sometimes he pauses for small eternities while we all hold our own breath until his chest jerks and the air sounds resume.

We sisters panic often and grill each each nurse at the beginning of her shift.  How will we know when it's time?  Is he in pain?  What does it mean when he ...grunts, flinches, taps his toe, etc..... ?  What do you think about his condition?  Does this or that hurt?  Can he feel this or that?  What is the difference between unconscious and light coma or coma?   Does this or that seem normal?    And that's just the tip of the ice berg.

Showers have been few and far between.  So has dental hygiene.  I have two pairs of jeans with me.  Tomorrow I'll decide which one to wear by standing each pair in opposite corners and seeing which pair walks the farthest on it's own.  That self walking pair loses.  I also considered doing the smell test on the jeans, as in the least smelly pair gets to be worn another time, but that's kind of like smelling the hospice chair seats and I can't bear that thought.  

Dad wasn't doing well tonight and we decided to sleep somewhere else instead of the hospice cots we have bunked on for the last three nights.  We thought it might be easier for dad to pass away if we weren't sitting around his bed chatting.  We hear that some people wait until they are alone before they "go."  Also, I started thinking that maybe I didn't want to actually witness dad dying so we quizzed the new night nurse on it tonight and she shared that she saw her father die and now the loop of his last minutes sometimes gets stuck in her head for a while, and I don't want that to be what I think about when I think about dad.

I'm going to sink into a nice cozy hotel bed now and cross your fingers for dad.

devastated

Monday night I just couldn't fall asleep.  

Tuesday morning I just couldn't stay asleep.  When my alarm clock went off I had gotten about 4 hours of sleep.  I was so tired that I wanted to cry, and possibly may have.  And Tuesday was my birthday.  But when I woke them up, none of the kids remembered. I had to tell them.  So it didn't really count when they rushed to create and offer up something nice.  

Then I banged my head on my truck's lift gate when it didn't open all of the way.  I almost fainted.  I have a 3 inch long painful bump.

Then I had nothing to do so I went shopping to try to find something to buy for myself.  Like a miracle shirt that makes me look thin.  And I hated it.  There was nothing fun to even look at.

I went to the gym, so that was good.

I didn't have to go food shopping since I had decided that on my birthday I wasn't going to cook my own dinner.

I had to pick Evan up from religious school at 6, so I asked the husband what time he was coming home for my birthday dinner.  I was hoping he could get the food while I got EVan.  He said he just wasn't sure so I should get the food myself.

I drove over to the food place to get my own birthday take out because my kids really didn't want to go to the restaurant, and then, birthday takeout cooling in the backseat, I drove back the other way past my house to get Evan from religious school.

We went home and I ate with the kids in front of the TV.

I hated the gift from the husband that the fed ex guy dropped off for me.  The gift made me cry.

So I wasn't going to whine post anything about my birthday until Friday so that I could tell you all what a lovely time I had with my babes at my and Wildmom's (we share our birthday!) luncheon with my friends.

Thursday I was at Peanuts house when my cell buzzed.  It was a text from lil sis.  Dad had pneumonia and was on his way to the hospital.

I ran out of there and made a frantic call to the husband, who heard the panic in my voice, and before I knew it I was sitting on the 3:45 Jet Blue flight from Newark to Fort Lauderdale.  I got the ER around 7:30 just as the young handsome pulmonary specialist was explaining to dad that in addition to the pneumonia he suspected dad was experiencing congestive heart failure.

But, I rationalized,  mom had had congestive heart failure during her stay at my house and she had recovered from it for a while, so I told my brain to stay in "get dad well mode"  They moved dad into an ICU section of the ER so that he could be watched more carefully.  There were no free beds in the whole hospital.  It was going to be a long night.  I left the ER around 11:30 when dad decided to try to get some sleep.  I helped dad and all of his many tubes roll onto his right side and tucked dad and the tubes in with a few layers of thin hospital blankets kissed his head and still reeling from the diagnosis made my way over to the hotel.

Not wanting to allow myself to be able to think for even a minute I kept myself awake until about 1.  The I passed right out.

Friday when I got to the hospital another doctor was telling dad that he had had a heart attack.

They ran more tests.  I called lil sis and I told lil sis she should come down.  I didn't want to do this alone.  It was selfish of me.  I wanted her there for me.  Every specialist in the hospital came in to evaluate dad.  By the afternoon 2 cardiologists were telling us that he had such little blood flow to his heart and such a weakly squeezing heart that he would not make it through the weekend unless they tried to do a catheterization and insert some shunts.  Dad was reluctant but the doctors scared us all into it and dad signed the papers.

They took dad for the procedure at 7:30 Friday evening.  They brought him out an hour later and told us they had not been able to do anything.  Every artery leading to dad's heart was almost completely blocked.  Also, they said that dad has a leaking mitral valve and that the only option for him would be bypass and valve repair surgery and that no surgeon would agree to it due to dad's age, advanced stage of cancer and amount of heart disease.  Dad told lil sis and me what a wonderful life he had lived, how had married the woman of his dreams, raised four wonderful daughters (I have two much older step sisses, who I don't usually mention here) and is ready to go. He talked about his grand kids and how not seeing them grow up would be his only regret.  He was looking forward to being with mom.  Thinking about seeing mom made dad smile.  

Dad was exhausted and he wanted to sleep again, so lil and I left him around 9:30.

Saturday morning my cell phone rang.

Dad had a massive stroke.

Dad wasn't talking or opening his eyes.  Dad was half paralyzed.  Dad was having trouble breathing.

Saturday night when my first step sis arrived we had dad moved to hospice care.

Sunday Iil sis, step sis and I spent the day watching dad breathe and struggle to breathe and then be able to breathe again.  The husband flew down with boys and each one of my sons took a turn saying goodbye to dad.  Matthew told dad how he hoped that one day he would be the kind of husband, father and grandfather my dad had been and also how much he would miss their heated after dinner conversations.  I couldn't hear what Evan was saying, because Evan likes to keep things private, and poor sweet Josh, wanted so much to be as brave as his brothers, but was scared out of his mind, Josh managed to choke out to dad that he loved him and would miss him.

Monday morning other step sis will get here and we are hoping that once she arrives dad will be able to go find mom.  It's their anniversary on the 5th and I couldn't think of a way he would rather spend it than reunited with mom.