12.03.2008
I know what Hell is
Hell is watching my mother go through chemo and two major surgeries and a bad fall that bruised her muscles and all in the past year. It's not being able to get the smell of the hospital out of my nose. Ever. Hell is the non stop random ad nauseum beeping of 12 or more IV bags as they empty their last drops into the ports of the cancer patients receiving blood, iron, hydration and of course the praised poison called chemo. Hell is wondering how much it might hurt to poke out both my eyes with a #2 pencil rather than watch my mother and all these poor people go through all this but not having the courage to try it. Hell is feeling bad for myself while I am here and then feeling bad that I feel bad for myself. Cancer is Hell. For everyone.
10.29.2008
Commentary - Miserable Curs
People suck.
It's just the nature of the beast. Some people choose to make reasonably good contact with other people, and others just suck at every possible opportunity.
I guess it really does take all kinds. But if you are so miserable that you couldn't find joy with eight hands and joy map, please, just step off and leave the rest of us reasonable mongrels alone.
I'm Sharon Mercer, and I approve this message.
It's just the nature of the beast. Some people choose to make reasonably good contact with other people, and others just suck at every possible opportunity.
I guess it really does take all kinds. But if you are so miserable that you couldn't find joy with eight hands and joy map, please, just step off and leave the rest of us reasonable mongrels alone.
I'm Sharon Mercer, and I approve this message.
10.26.2008
Beyond Exhausted
I'm on strike for the rest of the night. I'm going to escape with Desperate Housewives and not look back for an hour!
10.25.2008
Breathe, Immerse, Kick, Surface, Repeat
***
In my life, I've been blessed with family and friends who love me probably more than I will ever know. I would wish we all had people who serve as beacons, anchors and bouys in our lives, to guide and direct, to root us and give us pause, and to keep us afloat or serve as reminders of life's boundaries. Whether we're diving in, cannonballing it, doggie paddling just to keep above the surface or taking strong and determined strokes, towards the shore or deeper over our heads, the beacons, anchors and bouys we are born to or choose are very much part of who we become along the way and in the end.
***
This week I've been swimming for a shore that is not in sight as the light of my most beloved beacon, my Grandma Dolly, is dimmed and struggling to illuminate her once bright spirit.
At ninety one Grandma Dolly has the smoothest skin, a keen sense of humor, and insights that attest to the length and breadth of her life journey. She is my joy, my kindred spirit, and my closest relative. Grandma Dolly is my remaining grandparent, one of three I was priviliged to know growing up, one of two I remember most, one of one whom I best identify with. Together we are a pairing which needs no others to make it right. Together we have solved the world's problems and made fun of stupidity while enjoying tea and cookies, coffee and ice box cake, grilled tomatoe and cheese sandwiches, or sun tea over ice, with Good Housekeeping or a crochet project in our hands. We have shopped for groceries, her modest list of chicken breast, potatoes, crusty Italian sliced bread, unsalted butter for baking, and King Arthur flour, all written in her tiny print, in pencil, on a 2 x 4 piece of scrap paper. Together, Grandma Dolly and I have made Christmas sto
ckings by hand, discussed the proper way to sew a zipper into a pillow, and praised the simple comforts of a warm blanket and pair of socks on a cold day. These are some of the wonderful characteristics of my dear Grandma Dolly.
***
The harsh reminder of her fraility came Tuesday evening at 5:30pm, when I received a call from my father, affectionately known as Grumpy. Grandma Dolly fell backward off the third bottom step of her attic staircase, fracturing her pelvis and several ribs which have led to internal bleeding and anemia. That first evening she experienced incredible pain, yet in the ER she spoke some of the memories I shared above, telling me how much she has enjoyed all of our visits over the years. She may never know what a precious moment that was for me, that even while suffering intense pain, she was thinking good thoughts of us and was moved to express them to me. Tonight she is resting more comfortably in her new home, a nursing care facility with staff that she says is attentive and expedient and good to and with her. These are good words for this granddaughter to hear. She is on complete bed rest while she heals and needs oxygen now and then as her breathing is off because of her cracked ribs.
Still, this upbrupt change in her health has hastened the end of an era. Life as she, and I, and we knew it has been shipwrecked at sea, ravaged by the twin storms of age and accident. The days of visiting her at home are over, these are serious injuries and the healing will be long in coming. We must take each day as it comes even more so now than ever, and yet I know even more now the truth of another wave coming in, a swell that will naturally overcome me, that will threaten to pull me under, and I will taste the saltiness of grief, and the bitterness of loss.
***
But for now, she floats, anchored to her bed, bouyed by those around her.
And I, I breathe, immerse, kick, surface....and repeat.
Because without her I am lost. Without her I still need to swim to shore. Whether she can lead me there with her light or whether I must find it in the dark with only the memory of the way in me, she wants me to keep moving.
***
Breathe, immerse, kick, surface.
Repeat.
***
In my life, I've been blessed with family and friends who love me probably more than I will ever know. I would wish we all had people who serve as beacons, anchors and bouys in our lives, to guide and direct, to root us and give us pause, and to keep us afloat or serve as reminders of life's boundaries. Whether we're diving in, cannonballing it, doggie paddling just to keep above the surface or taking strong and determined strokes, towards the shore or deeper over our heads, the beacons, anchors and bouys we are born to or choose are very much part of who we become along the way and in the end.
***
This week I've been swimming for a shore that is not in sight as the light of my most beloved beacon, my Grandma Dolly, is dimmed and struggling to illuminate her once bright spirit.
At ninety one Grandma Dolly has the smoothest skin, a keen sense of humor, and insights that attest to the length and breadth of her life journey. She is my joy, my kindred spirit, and my closest relative. Grandma Dolly is my remaining grandparent, one of three I was priviliged to know growing up, one of two I remember most, one of one whom I best identify with. Together we are a pairing which needs no others to make it right. Together we have solved the world's problems and made fun of stupidity while enjoying tea and cookies, coffee and ice box cake, grilled tomatoe and cheese sandwiches, or sun tea over ice, with Good Housekeeping or a crochet project in our hands. We have shopped for groceries, her modest list of chicken breast, potatoes, crusty Italian sliced bread, unsalted butter for baking, and King Arthur flour, all written in her tiny print, in pencil, on a 2 x 4 piece of scrap paper. Together, Grandma Dolly and I have made Christmas sto
ckings by hand, discussed the proper way to sew a zipper into a pillow, and praised the simple comforts of a warm blanket and pair of socks on a cold day. These are some of the wonderful characteristics of my dear Grandma Dolly.***
The harsh reminder of her fraility came Tuesday evening at 5:30pm, when I received a call from my father, affectionately known as Grumpy. Grandma Dolly fell backward off the third bottom step of her attic staircase, fracturing her pelvis and several ribs which have led to internal bleeding and anemia. That first evening she experienced incredible pain, yet in the ER she spoke some of the memories I shared above, telling me how much she has enjoyed all of our visits over the years. She may never know what a precious moment that was for me, that even while suffering intense pain, she was thinking good thoughts of us and was moved to express them to me. Tonight she is resting more comfortably in her new home, a nursing care facility with staff that she says is attentive and expedient and good to and with her. These are good words for this granddaughter to hear. She is on complete bed rest while she heals and needs oxygen now and then as her breathing is off because of her cracked ribs.
Still, this upbrupt change in her health has hastened the end of an era. Life as she, and I, and we knew it has been shipwrecked at sea, ravaged by the twin storms of age and accident. The days of visiting her at home are over, these are serious injuries and the healing will be long in coming. We must take each day as it comes even more so now than ever, and yet I know even more now the truth of another wave coming in, a swell that will naturally overcome me, that will threaten to pull me under, and I will taste the saltiness of grief, and the bitterness of loss.
***
But for now, she floats, anchored to her bed, bouyed by those around her.
And I, I breathe, immerse, kick, surface....and repeat.
Because without her I am lost. Without her I still need to swim to shore. Whether she can lead me there with her light or whether I must find it in the dark with only the memory of the way in me, she wants me to keep moving.
***
Breathe, immerse, kick, surface.
Repeat.
***
10.13.2008
Recovering
Hello there. It's been awhile since I last blogged. I've been sick with some kind of virus and I'm due to return to work tomorrow. Just started feeling like myself again on Saturday after a slight relapse on Friday. Not much to report except that Dear Hubby has returned home from abroad and I am planning a party for my Mother turning 60 next month and looking to the holiday season. Blessings to all.
9.11.2008
9.05.2008
Bye Bye Meat
It's official. I am going meat free and I'm excited about it. Thanks to links like http://shmooedfood.blogspot.com/ by the author of the Vegan Lunch Box and this link http://www.veggiebrothers.com/home for vegan food delivered to your door, plus so many yummy in store food options, I am looking forward to starting out without meat and then seeing if I can go all the way to Vegan.
The reasons behind this choice are many, but the main ones are lowering my demand for the meat industry to cruelly mistreat the very animals we are the care takers of on this Earth, to lower the negative effects these food have on my personal health, and live a more cruel free life. This goes hand in hand with my choice not to wear or purchase fur, even faux if possible since so many faux fur items can be real fur thanks to legal loopholes and corruption. Meat free living also compliments my choice not to wear leather - MooShoes are the best!
The reasons behind this choice are many, but the main ones are lowering my demand for the meat industry to cruelly mistreat the very animals we are the care takers of on this Earth, to lower the negative effects these food have on my personal health, and live a more cruel free life. This goes hand in hand with my choice not to wear or purchase fur, even faux if possible since so many faux fur items can be real fur thanks to legal loopholes and corruption. Meat free living also compliments my choice not to wear leather - MooShoes are the best!
I will continue to blog about my findings for foods and meals I've had which deserve commenting. Yea!
9.01.2008
Wild Pears
Enjoy the view of our gnarly pear tree. This was taken this past week. I looked up into the tree as the fresh fruit hung ready to be picked, and thought this was just a beautiful perspective.These Dreams
I've been having some very odd dreams for about two weeks, at least, maybe even three weeks. These dreams are so strange I am looking to buy one or two dream interpretation books and have taken to writing some of the dreams down in order to review them later. Some do not require interpretation, these are the Mel Gibson variety, as he's always been favorite eye candy for me. And the one about my mother performing my step dad's heart surgery, which has since been cancelled, was pretty obvious as well. It's the dreams like the one of Fudgy the Whale, of Carvel Ice Cream cake fame, as a hand puppet singing and dancing on a kid's show that I need help with!
In other news regarding dreams, I am reading The Last Lecture, by Randy Pausch (http://www.thelastlecture.com/). Randy passed away in July from Pancreatic Cancer, and his last lecture was about fulfilling your childhood dreams.
My childhood dream was to become a writer, to do the book tour, talk show and radio circuit; I even practiced my interviews complete with chalk for a cigarette (I do not smoke but growing up in the 70's, smoking seemed like just the thing a successful writer would be doing during an interview), and many times I had a British or French accent, for no apparent reason other than to seem posh.
I have one or two stories I wrote when I was about eight or nine and they are completely without merit. Very soap opera melodrama with twin sisters discovering each other while one serves as a nurse in the hospital where the other is giving birth type of stories. Then I have some from college, including two children's short stories with strong female leads. I'm currently working on two manuscripts, but working is a loose description as I've not penned more on them for a few months at least.
The premise of the most recent one is a woman who works to kindle an unrequited love from her teen years while the love she seeks has become a pastor for a community in the Midwest. It's a "what - if" scenario, as in "what if what didn't happen had happened? Where would these characters be now?" I think the "what if" scenario is a good way for someone to take a different path than maybe they chose in real life and see where it might have led.
The other story line is more non-fiction but with some embellishments. I've kind of been typing whatever comes into my head about various people in my life and my reflections on them, our relationship, recalling the most significant times I've had with them, my impressions of them, things of that nature. It's draft title is Love is Not All, taken from an Edna St. Vincent Millay poem which speaks to a specific time in my life, when I infinitely happy yet also had my heart broken, the one true time as I have not let it be that vulnerable before or since.
So Randy's book had me thinking about my own childhood dreams as I'm sure he'd hoped it would and I leave to sleep tonight reflecting on his words. Check out his site and lecture at the link above. Take from it what you will.
In other news regarding dreams, I am reading The Last Lecture, by Randy Pausch (http://www.thelastlecture.com/). Randy passed away in July from Pancreatic Cancer, and his last lecture was about fulfilling your childhood dreams.
My childhood dream was to become a writer, to do the book tour, talk show and radio circuit; I even practiced my interviews complete with chalk for a cigarette (I do not smoke but growing up in the 70's, smoking seemed like just the thing a successful writer would be doing during an interview), and many times I had a British or French accent, for no apparent reason other than to seem posh.
I have one or two stories I wrote when I was about eight or nine and they are completely without merit. Very soap opera melodrama with twin sisters discovering each other while one serves as a nurse in the hospital where the other is giving birth type of stories. Then I have some from college, including two children's short stories with strong female leads. I'm currently working on two manuscripts, but working is a loose description as I've not penned more on them for a few months at least.
The premise of the most recent one is a woman who works to kindle an unrequited love from her teen years while the love she seeks has become a pastor for a community in the Midwest. It's a "what - if" scenario, as in "what if what didn't happen had happened? Where would these characters be now?" I think the "what if" scenario is a good way for someone to take a different path than maybe they chose in real life and see where it might have led.
The other story line is more non-fiction but with some embellishments. I've kind of been typing whatever comes into my head about various people in my life and my reflections on them, our relationship, recalling the most significant times I've had with them, my impressions of them, things of that nature. It's draft title is Love is Not All, taken from an Edna St. Vincent Millay poem which speaks to a specific time in my life, when I infinitely happy yet also had my heart broken, the one true time as I have not let it be that vulnerable before or since.
So Randy's book had me thinking about my own childhood dreams as I'm sure he'd hoped it would and I leave to sleep tonight reflecting on his words. Check out his site and lecture at the link above. Take from it what you will.
8.30.2008
Save the Rainforest with Care2 eCards
This eCard site has cards for every reason under the sun, and now each card sent will generate a donation to save one square foot of the rainforest. Check it out!
Halloween Cards
Halloween Cards
8.25.2008
Scasco Oil Company
So I said in my last post that my next post would be about the lack of customer service from our oil company, but since then, we have come to a satisfactory agreement for the approaching heating season. With that in place, I will not go into all the nasty details I was originally planning to, except to remind people that a signature on a contract means it's legally binding - I didn't sign so I was in the right - and that a verbal agreement should be followed up by a confirmation of that agreement and not a request to sign to make it valid - the two are contradictory. Also, no matter how professional you might be in your life, do not expect the same from everyone else; it's simply not as clear to everyone else how they should behave when they are in business.
Thanks to Paul S., Scasco's sales manager, for understanding the importance of keeping customers and how to speak with them and to them, which is, respectfully.
Thanks to Paul S., Scasco's sales manager, for understanding the importance of keeping customers and how to speak with them and to them, which is, respectfully.
8.20.2008
Been Working
Just a quick note as I've been working and was home today to help my Mom with shopping and other errands. The Birthday Countdown starts soon, on September 1st, and this year it's the 38th birthday - ugh!
Next post will focus on the Scasco oil company and their own special brand of customer service - not the good kind!
Next post will focus on the Scasco oil company and their own special brand of customer service - not the good kind!
8.12.2008
Today
-photo courtesy of our friend, Daphne Bates, Bures, England -The good news is I still know how to do my job after two weeks away and in an emotional state! The goal is 70 orders a day to be "leading". I hit the ground running with 115 orders today. Yea me! My boss was pleased saying he appreciated me jumping right back in after so long away and we'd meet tomorrow to see how July ended and how I'll tackle August since it's a short month for me.
More good news. Mom's ovarian cancer is not, yet, genetically predisposed. This means the main breast and ovarian cancer gene was not found in her blood. They are going to look for more genes in other testing, but right now, the finger is pointing towards lifestyle choices followed by random acts of cancer cells. This means I must, must, must eat even better than I have been, reduce stress and combat the stress I can't reduce with more exercise. If I can prevent it I must. I don't like to work out but I don't want to sign up for Mom's tour of chemo duty, either. Cancer honestly and truly sucks.
Not so good news. Mom still has cancer and was discovered from the biopsies from this past surgery. It was resistant to the chemo they originally gave her so now they are mixing up a new cocktail and we proceed with more treatment. This could well take us into the New Year.
And I broke down after two weeks of bad sleep and crazy weird dreams; I purchased Advil PM and hope to get a little knocked out tonight. God knows I need to rest.
8.11.2008
Update
Tomorrow I return to work having been out helping my Mom since her surgery on 7/29. I'm preparing for the deluge of emails I'll need to wade through and hoping I remember how to do my job. I've never been out of the office for this long a time before. It should be interesting.
So my wonderful neighbor, Terry, mowed the back yard for us this weekend; I'm going to get them a gift card because he does this for us at times and it is always a blessing. Otherwise I have to take three hours on the weekend to get it done.
And I've been having the worst dreams and lack of sleep lately. Likely it's everything that's going on here. I was so thirsty I was dreaming of a cold Diet Pepsi being poured, and I must have been hungry, too, because I also dreamt of my yummy organic multi grain cereal being poured with ice cold soy milk. Yum! But other than those dreams, my sleep has been very off with weird and detailed images that make no sense, or I go to bed crying myself to sleep. Thankfully, our cat, Tiger, is there to purr away and his little engine calms me down.
Here's to another attempt at a good night's sleep...
So my wonderful neighbor, Terry, mowed the back yard for us this weekend; I'm going to get them a gift card because he does this for us at times and it is always a blessing. Otherwise I have to take three hours on the weekend to get it done.
And I've been having the worst dreams and lack of sleep lately. Likely it's everything that's going on here. I was so thirsty I was dreaming of a cold Diet Pepsi being poured, and I must have been hungry, too, because I also dreamt of my yummy organic multi grain cereal being poured with ice cold soy milk. Yum! But other than those dreams, my sleep has been very off with weird and detailed images that make no sense, or I go to bed crying myself to sleep. Thankfully, our cat, Tiger, is there to purr away and his little engine calms me down.
Here's to another attempt at a good night's sleep...
8.09.2008
Insomnia
Been up since 2am; simply can't sleep. Woke up thirsty, drank some seltzer, and the bubbles felt good and refreshing. Fed the cat and used the bathroom. Been online for about an hour and played some games on my Facebook page. Thinking about my parents, and how they are 59 and 65 and in such terrible health, and how depressing this is for them and me and just what horribly young ages to be living and struggling with so many issues. Mom has the Cancer and Dad has heart issues, is diabetic, and now has an issue with his foot that is causing him immense pain.
For me, it's difficult to see them in the state they're in. Both of my parents are so ill at the same time and I just wish they could be restored to perfect health.
For me, it's difficult to see them in the state they're in. Both of my parents are so ill at the same time and I just wish they could be restored to perfect health.
8.06.2008
Family Dynamics
To say that life since Mom's Cancer diagnosis in November of '07 has been difficult would be putting it mildly. The biggest strain for me has been watching her bravely go through her chemo sessions while losing her job and moving and both see her desperately trying to navigate the family dynamics (while I do the same). She and my step dad moved back to her childhood home, a three family apartment, which meant her sister moved to the third floor so they could have the first.
I'd like to preface this information by saying that I feel less and less a part of this family the more I am engulfed by them, and I've said this to them so they shouldn't be surprised if they find me saying it here. I am my father's and paternal grandmother's girl; I abhor clutter, believe in throwing something out after 3 months of non use - the stores will always have it if I need it later - and I clean up after myself as part of my regular routine. I'm not a neat freak, per se, but if it's garbage, it goes, and important things have a place of honor in my home. They do not collect dust, rust or get moldy because I "have" to have them but clearly don't have the space or pride in them that I should.
As a matriarchal family, my mother, aunt and my sister are more a like than I could ever be, and I simply do not fit in. So family dynamics are very hard for me, as I am Mom's primary care giver, missing work - thank you FMLA! - and extending myself to be with her - which I gladly do - but there's this navigating the family currents and undercurrents which is emotionally draining for me. Mom doesn't want to live here, but finances and her health dictated she be closer to those who can best assist her. My aunt is single, works hard, and is always helping my sister with her two kids, a luxury many mothers would kill for. Mom and her sister have their own lingering sibling issues which are spilling over into daily life since familiarity breeds contempt.
I came over to start my day with Mom today and already my aunt was telling me that she and Mom had a problem this morning over a utility bill. It's been an issue with the electric company and a three family home before but now it's within the family because there is a question of usage and charges and it's taken on another dimension. I tried to answer my aunt's concerns as best as I could but finally gave in and told her the electric company is the best one to answer her questions. Turns out the company never got her last payments and they never cleared the bank. So, had my aunt *read* her bill instead of over reacting - her words not mine - she would have seen this and not created this problem with my Mom. My aunt did apologize but I think my Mom was either hurt or upset still and just said "ok" and that was it. My aunt's reaction was the same when she received her paper bill for her cell phone, a bill I had already explained to her and had her straighten out with the company when we looked at her online bill. She came in upset that the bill still read the high amount we already addressed. I explained to her that this was the paper form of the online form and not "another bill" as she exclaimed. *sigh*
My husband and I live our lives with as little drama as possible, and we think things out before we do them. I mean aside from losing his two parents, finding and meeting and then losing his birth mother, owning two homes at once then finally selling the first, me changing jobs and commuting two hours when I only did 20 minutes before. Oh, and Mom living with cancer, of course. Again, not perfect, but we have very few issues like this with our relatives and it makes it harder for me to deal with them when they happen. It just seems so unnecessary.
Mom has a follow up appointment today. We both think she'll need more chemo. This will only add to the mix.
I'd like to preface this information by saying that I feel less and less a part of this family the more I am engulfed by them, and I've said this to them so they shouldn't be surprised if they find me saying it here. I am my father's and paternal grandmother's girl; I abhor clutter, believe in throwing something out after 3 months of non use - the stores will always have it if I need it later - and I clean up after myself as part of my regular routine. I'm not a neat freak, per se, but if it's garbage, it goes, and important things have a place of honor in my home. They do not collect dust, rust or get moldy because I "have" to have them but clearly don't have the space or pride in them that I should.
As a matriarchal family, my mother, aunt and my sister are more a like than I could ever be, and I simply do not fit in. So family dynamics are very hard for me, as I am Mom's primary care giver, missing work - thank you FMLA! - and extending myself to be with her - which I gladly do - but there's this navigating the family currents and undercurrents which is emotionally draining for me. Mom doesn't want to live here, but finances and her health dictated she be closer to those who can best assist her. My aunt is single, works hard, and is always helping my sister with her two kids, a luxury many mothers would kill for. Mom and her sister have their own lingering sibling issues which are spilling over into daily life since familiarity breeds contempt.
I came over to start my day with Mom today and already my aunt was telling me that she and Mom had a problem this morning over a utility bill. It's been an issue with the electric company and a three family home before but now it's within the family because there is a question of usage and charges and it's taken on another dimension. I tried to answer my aunt's concerns as best as I could but finally gave in and told her the electric company is the best one to answer her questions. Turns out the company never got her last payments and they never cleared the bank. So, had my aunt *read* her bill instead of over reacting - her words not mine - she would have seen this and not created this problem with my Mom. My aunt did apologize but I think my Mom was either hurt or upset still and just said "ok" and that was it. My aunt's reaction was the same when she received her paper bill for her cell phone, a bill I had already explained to her and had her straighten out with the company when we looked at her online bill. She came in upset that the bill still read the high amount we already addressed. I explained to her that this was the paper form of the online form and not "another bill" as she exclaimed. *sigh*
My husband and I live our lives with as little drama as possible, and we think things out before we do them. I mean aside from losing his two parents, finding and meeting and then losing his birth mother, owning two homes at once then finally selling the first, me changing jobs and commuting two hours when I only did 20 minutes before. Oh, and Mom living with cancer, of course. Again, not perfect, but we have very few issues like this with our relatives and it makes it harder for me to deal with them when they happen. It just seems so unnecessary.
Mom has a follow up appointment today. We both think she'll need more chemo. This will only add to the mix.
8.05.2008
Got YouTube?
So I broke into the world of YouTube broadcasting three videos so far and I'm very excited! My public channel is http://www.youtube.com/bellylaughter and so far I have a video of my dad at the piano, my husband being silly and my cat, Tiger, helping himself to his treats right from the jar. As soon as I can figure out how to get the videos directly on the blog, I will. In the meantime, I hope you will click on the link above and check them out on YouTube.
8.04.2008
Glorious
Who knew a camera phone could take such a great photo? (LGNV2 - Verizon Wireless). This ornamental Chinese maple in our front yard is the crowning glory of our home, if not a bit too big for it's britches and in need of a pruning. It's the last one to shed it's leaves in the fall and the last one to fully shine with it's burgundy and olive green leaves in the Spring. This year blue jays and sparrows have taken a liking to it and the kids love to climb it. This photo was taken by me as I looked up through the branches into the sunlight streaming through it. To think that this is how the tree sees the sky every day. My favorite part is the one leaf in the top foreground as it stands out from the mass of leaves around it. I hope that in my life I am like that leaf, standing out among the crowd.
8.03.2008
The Darndest Things
"My nose sells the booger to my finger and my finger sells the booger to my mouth."
niece, Miss. E., age five, as she gives her explanation of "The Booger Store", her nickname for her nose, complete with hand gestures
***
Nephew: "Hey, Rump Shaker."
Auntie: "Who are you calling "Rump Shaker"?
N: "You!"
A: "I don't answer to Rump Shaker, I answer to Sherri or Auntie Sherri".
N: (reluctantly) "Ok, Sherri."
conversation with nephew, RT, age six
niece, Miss. E., age five, as she gives her explanation of "The Booger Store", her nickname for her nose, complete with hand gestures
***
Nephew: "Hey, Rump Shaker."
Auntie: "Who are you calling "Rump Shaker"?
N: "You!"
A: "I don't answer to Rump Shaker, I answer to Sherri or Auntie Sherri".
N: (reluctantly) "Ok, Sherri."
conversation with nephew, RT, age six
Mother and Child Reunion
I know they say let it be
But it just don't work out that way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
"Mother and Child Reunion"
Words and Music - Paul Simon
I am the youngest of two daughters from two marriages; marriages my mom defines as "too young" (my sister's dad) and "too quick" (my dad). I am married and child free, and as such, do have considerably less responsibility than my sister with two kids under six. This truth, and my dependable nature, have designated me mom's main caregiver, chemo buddy, cheer leader and confidant. Today provided us a unique moment to be reunited as mother and child; in the midst of it I bookmarked it, so that when all I have is memories, this one will sustain me.
Mom returned home from the hospital yesterday after surgery to remove her uterus and complete the job they weren't able to finish in December due to complications. Today I paid her a visit while my British Import was working spotlight at the local theater's finale performance of "The King and I". I found Mom lying wig free on her right side in her full size bed, the air cranked to 70 degrees with her snuggled under a green striped cotton sheet and green themed patchwork quilt. First I sat on the edge of the full size bed looking at her almost over my right shoulder but that became tiresome after awhile, so I opted to stretch out my pink toe polished feet and lay next to her sharing the details of a recent visit with my paternal grandmother, babysitting my niece and nephew the night before, and good news about my dad moving into his own apartment. Then I asked her about her return home and current pain level.
As she shared with me her frustrations at her limitations, and her need for help caring for my aging stepfather - he's a WWII wounded vet and a good 25 years older than Mom - I stroked her arm with it's touch of dry skin from the medications, while she rubbed her bald head as if doing so soothed her. My step dad wants so much to protect her and be more self sufficient, evident by his attempt to quietly stride to the handicap ramp with his walker and check out what he thought were hoodlums cutting through the yard. We caught him mid stroll, telling him we had taken care of the "situation", he relented and returned to his Mets game. "He thought I was asleep, " Mom smiled and sighed. When I described him as a warrior spirit in an aging body, Mom agreed with me and became choked up. She is in desperate need of assistance with him, and we agreed to find resources to help.
And there we were, talking for a couple of hours, nestled on the bed together, like we had so many other times when I was younger, but hadn't done for ages. This chat was similar to ones we had recently in the car on the way to chemo or the doctor's, or during chemo, those long drawn out days she hated and that never went the same way twice. But being close to each other, outside of a hospital, the cancer ward, and the car, in the personal setting of her room, in the cool comfort of the air conditioning and cotton blankets, the time was imprinted in my mind more than all the others.
I thought to myself, "Remember this, Sharon. She doesn't talk to your sister like this. She doesn't talk to her sister like this. She only talks this way with you", and it was in that moment I realized of all my memories of her illness and her living with cancer, this is what I want to remember most.
Our mother and child reunion.
But it just don't work out that way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again
No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine.
"Mother and Child Reunion"
Words and Music - Paul Simon
I am the youngest of two daughters from two marriages; marriages my mom defines as "too young" (my sister's dad) and "too quick" (my dad). I am married and child free, and as such, do have considerably less responsibility than my sister with two kids under six. This truth, and my dependable nature, have designated me mom's main caregiver, chemo buddy, cheer leader and confidant. Today provided us a unique moment to be reunited as mother and child; in the midst of it I bookmarked it, so that when all I have is memories, this one will sustain me.
Mom returned home from the hospital yesterday after surgery to remove her uterus and complete the job they weren't able to finish in December due to complications. Today I paid her a visit while my British Import was working spotlight at the local theater's finale performance of "The King and I". I found Mom lying wig free on her right side in her full size bed, the air cranked to 70 degrees with her snuggled under a green striped cotton sheet and green themed patchwork quilt. First I sat on the edge of the full size bed looking at her almost over my right shoulder but that became tiresome after awhile, so I opted to stretch out my pink toe polished feet and lay next to her sharing the details of a recent visit with my paternal grandmother, babysitting my niece and nephew the night before, and good news about my dad moving into his own apartment. Then I asked her about her return home and current pain level.
As she shared with me her frustrations at her limitations, and her need for help caring for my aging stepfather - he's a WWII wounded vet and a good 25 years older than Mom - I stroked her arm with it's touch of dry skin from the medications, while she rubbed her bald head as if doing so soothed her. My step dad wants so much to protect her and be more self sufficient, evident by his attempt to quietly stride to the handicap ramp with his walker and check out what he thought were hoodlums cutting through the yard. We caught him mid stroll, telling him we had taken care of the "situation", he relented and returned to his Mets game. "He thought I was asleep, " Mom smiled and sighed. When I described him as a warrior spirit in an aging body, Mom agreed with me and became choked up. She is in desperate need of assistance with him, and we agreed to find resources to help.
And there we were, talking for a couple of hours, nestled on the bed together, like we had so many other times when I was younger, but hadn't done for ages. This chat was similar to ones we had recently in the car on the way to chemo or the doctor's, or during chemo, those long drawn out days she hated and that never went the same way twice. But being close to each other, outside of a hospital, the cancer ward, and the car, in the personal setting of her room, in the cool comfort of the air conditioning and cotton blankets, the time was imprinted in my mind more than all the others.
I thought to myself, "Remember this, Sharon. She doesn't talk to your sister like this. She doesn't talk to her sister like this. She only talks this way with you", and it was in that moment I realized of all my memories of her illness and her living with cancer, this is what I want to remember most.
Our mother and child reunion.
8.01.2008
Good Morning, Angels
As a woman of many hobbies and interests it's easy for me to stretch myself too thin from wanting to do too much for too many - too many people, too many reasons, too many times. In the seven years I've been married to my British import, as I refer to my husband, Graham, I have learned the art of slowing down and, as a result, have been able to better prioritize the giving of my talents. Having changed churches - topic for another blog - I pretty much withdrew all my talent and stored it until I knew where it needed to be channeled.
That's when my Mary Kay consultant's monthly sale email caught my eye as she was sending one of everything purchased to a group called Soldiers' Angels, and I took a look at the site http://www.soldiersangels.org/.
Soldiers' Angels is a not for profit organization fueled solely by volunteers and whose one mission is to show love and support for our armed forces. This is not about politics. I repeat, not about politics. This is about men and women who have chosen the military as their vocation and for those who wish to show them support while they serve. There's also options to support our veterans as well.
Forms of support include adopting a soldier and committing to one to two letters a week and two care packages a month to your adoptee. A care package might include some books or magazines, some stationery and pens. Other support options are making blankets for vets, the wounded or those serving, and if you're not into a regular commitment at this time, you can send anyone of the care packages from the Angel Store to "Any Soldier" and the best part, your donation is tax deductible! Actually the very best part is that you will be making the day of a soldier who will appreciate your kindness more than you'll ever know.
All the details about Soldiers' Angels can be found at their site, which I hope you'll visit. It's really all about showing some love, and I don't mean as a dating site which you'll be advised of if you adopt a soldier, but instead, to have mail at mail call and sometimes help out a soldier who is not receiving any mail at all.
For me, having an adoptee, currently an Army guy, to support, and committing to crocheting a lap blanket for a Vet for Christmas has given me a sense of purpose. Especially with what is happening here at home, with Mom's Cancer and the family dynamics which simultaneously save and trouble me. Somehow, knowing that my soldier is my responsibility and I can feel good about the few minutes my letters or cards or packages can distract or relax him when he's off duty, it makes me feel good and it takes me away from my worries, too. If only for a little while.
That's when my Mary Kay consultant's monthly sale email caught my eye as she was sending one of everything purchased to a group called Soldiers' Angels, and I took a look at the site http://www.soldiersangels.org/.
Soldiers' Angels is a not for profit organization fueled solely by volunteers and whose one mission is to show love and support for our armed forces. This is not about politics. I repeat, not about politics. This is about men and women who have chosen the military as their vocation and for those who wish to show them support while they serve. There's also options to support our veterans as well.
Forms of support include adopting a soldier and committing to one to two letters a week and two care packages a month to your adoptee. A care package might include some books or magazines, some stationery and pens. Other support options are making blankets for vets, the wounded or those serving, and if you're not into a regular commitment at this time, you can send anyone of the care packages from the Angel Store to "Any Soldier" and the best part, your donation is tax deductible! Actually the very best part is that you will be making the day of a soldier who will appreciate your kindness more than you'll ever know.
All the details about Soldiers' Angels can be found at their site, which I hope you'll visit. It's really all about showing some love, and I don't mean as a dating site which you'll be advised of if you adopt a soldier, but instead, to have mail at mail call and sometimes help out a soldier who is not receiving any mail at all.
For me, having an adoptee, currently an Army guy, to support, and committing to crocheting a lap blanket for a Vet for Christmas has given me a sense of purpose. Especially with what is happening here at home, with Mom's Cancer and the family dynamics which simultaneously save and trouble me. Somehow, knowing that my soldier is my responsibility and I can feel good about the few minutes my letters or cards or packages can distract or relax him when he's off duty, it makes me feel good and it takes me away from my worries, too. If only for a little while.
Starting Line Up
I'm a little slow to the starting line up when it comes to blogging, at least in regards to writing a blog, but I've been trolling them on the Net forever. I did have a few false starts which I hope have been gracefully swept from the Net like unwanted virtual dust bunnies or they'll haunt me as I try to make this attempt.
See, originally I would start writing and then think that perhaps my life just wasn't worth talking about, that no one would find what I have to say to be very interesting. Then I got to thinking about how my life has been super twisty and turny lately and that perhaps I could use blogging as a way to share, among other things, my care taker role for my mom who is living with ovarian cancer, my life as the wife of an Englishman who is super funny and not at all your typical Brit, a wanna be writer whose dreams have found feet and walked away, or ran away, from home, and me as a fat chick who has to face my freakish BMI now that cancer and I are having a stare down.
So today is different. Today I'm off and running. Inspired by The Daily Coyote http://dailycoyote.blogspot.com/ and some other blog-hers, it seemed high time I should be writing again. I say again because in my former life, before I hooked up with an addict - not the man I know call my hubby; he's a keeper - and before I let myself go to heck in hand basket health wise, I fancied myself a writer. Someone even paid me to write; someone with a real newspaper and a real paycheck exchanged money with me for my articles and I was, if for a brief span of time, an honest to goodness freelance writer. This happened because at one time I was fearless and said to heck with it, I'm going to send in my writing samples and see if they will hire me. And sure it was only coverage for a little town and sure I was always being chided for not having an accompanying photo with my article, but I had bylines and I was interviewing and I was good at it!
So today as I was driving to sit with my step dad while my mom recovers from her second cancer surgery this year I was stopped at a light when my mind wandered, as it often does, to other thoughts outside of where I was going and how I should be paying attention to the road in order to get there safely. This thought was, 'When exactly did my dreams die? When did they take they're final breath and just give up the ghost?'. I couldn't exactly pinpoint when my writing aspirations went South but I realized I wanted to call them back, to apologize and tell them I would be happy for them to come visit again and maybe even hang out for awhile and remind me what was so great about us, together. I'd really like to see those dreams again and work out our issues, maybe even hook up and go out and be seen and be known together. I would like that, I think, and belly laughter just might be how I get the dream back.
See, originally I would start writing and then think that perhaps my life just wasn't worth talking about, that no one would find what I have to say to be very interesting. Then I got to thinking about how my life has been super twisty and turny lately and that perhaps I could use blogging as a way to share, among other things, my care taker role for my mom who is living with ovarian cancer, my life as the wife of an Englishman who is super funny and not at all your typical Brit, a wanna be writer whose dreams have found feet and walked away, or ran away, from home, and me as a fat chick who has to face my freakish BMI now that cancer and I are having a stare down.
So today is different. Today I'm off and running. Inspired by The Daily Coyote http://dailycoyote.blogspot.com/ and some other blog-hers, it seemed high time I should be writing again. I say again because in my former life, before I hooked up with an addict - not the man I know call my hubby; he's a keeper - and before I let myself go to heck in hand basket health wise, I fancied myself a writer. Someone even paid me to write; someone with a real newspaper and a real paycheck exchanged money with me for my articles and I was, if for a brief span of time, an honest to goodness freelance writer. This happened because at one time I was fearless and said to heck with it, I'm going to send in my writing samples and see if they will hire me. And sure it was only coverage for a little town and sure I was always being chided for not having an accompanying photo with my article, but I had bylines and I was interviewing and I was good at it!
So today as I was driving to sit with my step dad while my mom recovers from her second cancer surgery this year I was stopped at a light when my mind wandered, as it often does, to other thoughts outside of where I was going and how I should be paying attention to the road in order to get there safely. This thought was, 'When exactly did my dreams die? When did they take they're final breath and just give up the ghost?'. I couldn't exactly pinpoint when my writing aspirations went South but I realized I wanted to call them back, to apologize and tell them I would be happy for them to come visit again and maybe even hang out for awhile and remind me what was so great about us, together. I'd really like to see those dreams again and work out our issues, maybe even hook up and go out and be seen and be known together. I would like that, I think, and belly laughter just might be how I get the dream back.
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