My Cousin Died

Last week my cousin died.  He didn't get the live liver donor in time to save his life.  He died from another bleed out while on the operating table.  We were all to late in our efforts to help out.

A  Go Fund Me  has been started for his widow to help cover the expenses she has incurred with her travelling back and forth and time off from work.  Help out if you can dear readers.  Here is the link for Kyle Broadwell

I still can't believe my dear sweet cousin is gone.  He was only 42.  I'm in shock.  I'm going about my daily routine pretty much in zombie mode.  Because it was a holiday weekend, one in my family we'd celebrate as a Thanksgiving of sorts when I was a kid since every old person headed south to Florida, the three of us went about town.

The night of Kyle's death I ate comfort food, as in junk food.
 Friday night we ate out.  I couldn't eat.  I ended up crying at the restaurant.
Saturday night we ate out again.  This time I did eat and ignored the world around me.  I was still choking back tears.  It has been hard.  DH hasn't been supportive.  By Monday night I had to have a long talk with him about his nasty treatment of me this weekend.  He apologized.  I mean geez if it had been one of his family members we'd of flown home for sure.  I knew we couldn't because of his school so I took what I would have spent in hotel, airline tickets, car rental, and food added it up then donated it.

I know I'm rambling.

I'm a mess.

I'm now waiting for my results of the Alpha 1 antitrypsin to come back.  I'm not sure how long it will take.  I'm really hoping I don't have.  It is bad enough I have moderate NASH and Asthma adding the Alpha 1 in also would be like stamping an expiration date on my forehead.

Going Home

I guess the time has come to say good bye to my father.

His doctor called yesterday.  His kidneys are failing.  They can't do dialysis.

It is now only a matter of time.  His doctor said she thinks this weekend will be his last as he goes into complete organ failure.

This sucks!  I still have a few unresolved issues with my dad too.  I'll just have to let them go.  If he isn't bothered by them I shouldn't be either.

The 13th Gift

It wasn't that long ago that I would spend Christmas all alone.  It wasn't easy and it sure as heck wasn't fun.  The very first Christmas that I spent alone was the one after my divorce.  I was working 40 hours a week, deep in debt and had two cats for company.  I thought it would be the only Christmas I would ever have to spend alone so I made the best of it.  I put up a tree and decorated my parents' house.  They had fled the cold weather for warmer climates and I was wishing I had gone with them.  But for me the cold was a refresher; a new start.

Not only was I going through a divorce but I had also broken up with the boyfriend that I had just begun a relationship with two month previous.  It would have been nice to not have to spend the holidays alone but it wasn't in the cards.

Things could only get better I thought.  Well I was wrong and they only got worse.  But that part of my life has been discussed to death and most of you know that at the last day of that monumental year of my life I was raped.    I would not be getting much in the way of happy gifts of friends and family in my first year of being single.  No it would be another year before I was enfolded in the happiness of a new family.

The following year I had much to be happy for.  I was in a solid relationship, my divorce was final, and I was part of a new family or would be in the years to follow when I married into the clan.  I wouldn't spend another Christmas alone or at least I had hoped for a long time to come.

Six years passed and I was spending my first Christmas alone in a new state.  I wasn't able to drive the distance to see my husband's family.  I didn't have a cat or dog now.  I was alone.  But I kept with me the spirit of Christmas.

That year I decorated our first house.  Paper chains, snowflakes, ornaments, the tree and stockings.  I made sure the world that looked in my window knew I wasn't going to be depressed.  Christmas Eve, though I had purchased most of my own gifts, I opened the presents that I had wrapped for myself.  I realize this sounds a bit pathetic but it wasn't.  I knew that half way around the world my husband and his battle buddies, fighting for another country's freedom, would be getting into their Christmas stockings.  Hand selected toys and candy were individually wrapped and put into stockings I purchased for them.  If they had to spend Christmas away from their families at least they would know that someone back home was thinking of them too.

The next morning, Christmas morning, I got up bright and early and plugged in the lights for the tree.  Within minutes the calls started to ring my phone that would keep the season merry.  First Mom, then L and finally at last the most important one from J.  His phone call lasted just five minutes but it was the most cherished gift.  More nourishing than any Christmas ham because this five minute call nourished my brain.

This year my husband will spend Christmas with family, his family and mine because they are mine too.  This year we have a baby to bring home with us and our beloved cat Bugsy the stray that is no longer a stray.  My heart over fills with love this year as it does every year whether together or apart for I always try to keep the spirit of the season alive.

This post was inspired by The 13th Gift by Joanne Huist Smith, memoir about how  random acts of kindness transformed her family’s bereavement and grief during the holidays. Join From Left to Write on October 28th as we discuss The 13th Gift. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Those We Love Most

Those We Love Most by Lee Woodruff brought me to tears and made me laugh.  This book was truly a tough read for me, not because of the lexicon but because of the emotions.

While reading this book I suffered through a miscarriage.  At first I had troubles even getting through the main character's loss of her child.  My thoughts were at least she had that time with her child, something I might never even get to experience.  Once I swallowed that elephantine sized pill of bitterness I really got into the book.

The death of her child brought back memories of the first time I dealt with death.  I was a really young child and it was the early 1970's.  We didn't wear helmets when we rode our bikes down the street.  We were lucky if we even remembered to put on shoes.  But we did know enough to always look both ways.  Sometimes even knowing the basics won't save your life.

Jonathan was my best childhood friend.  He would ride his bike up to my house, which was just up the hill and maybe a quarter of a mile from his own house, to play in the woods with my brother and I almost every day.  We were always home when the street lights came on.  Jonathon was on his way home one night when a drunk driver ran him down.  No helmet would have saved his life.  My father and my next door neighbor rushed out of the houses when they heard the tires squealing on the pavement.  Mouth-to-mouth was given but there wasn't much face to give it too.  He was gone.

After the loss of my friend I gave up on learning how to ride my bike, rather I was still at that point walk/ride it down the road.  My parents wouldn't even let me leave the driveway with my bike after I did learn to ride it years later until I was twelve.

From the perspective of a child losing a friend at such an early age is devastating.  Jonathan's parents had closure, I can only assume, but I did not until many years later.  The wake and funeral were for family only.

Jonathan's younger brother, Adrian, and I would forever after, until his family moved to Pennsylvania, sit next to one another on the bus.  Adrian confided in me many things one of which was that his mom and dad were going to have another baby.  I asked him how he felt about that he told me he felt like they were trying to replace his brother.  Maybe they were in some small way trying to fill that hole that was now in the family? Or maybe they had always planned on having another child?  Before the baby was born Jonathan's family had moved and our community had a bigger hole in it, one that would never be truly filled.

Jonathan still remains my best childhood friend because he never got older, he never lived to earn my mistrust as so many people have in my lifetime, he never lived to learn to hate.  Jonathan will always be that faded memory of happiness short lived, the one I loved the most.

This post was inspired by the novel Those We Love the Most by Lee Woodruff. Every family has its secrets and deceptions, but they come to surface a tragic accident changes the family dynamic forever.. Join From Left to Write on June 6 as we discuss Those We Love the Most. You can also enter to win a live video chat with Lee Woodruff! As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Staying Cool

This morning in my email I got word of some bad news.  My ex sister-in law told me of the death of her brother-in-law, my former brother-in-law.  My former nieces and nephews still call me aunt.  They often remark on how they miss me.  I miss them too.  Its the only thing in the divorce that I regret putting behind me.  My ex had two nice brothers.  One died yesterday.  He was the same age as my own brother.  They had the same birthday too.  Its just hard to believe that he is gone.  May he rest in peace.

On to other news.  Its hot here.  Nothing I can't handle.  I keep the shades drawn and windows closed for most of the day.  Right now I have them open to get a cross breeze.  I'll probably be shutting them in about half an hour before the sun hits my living room window making it a sauna.  I realize that it could be much hotter than the 92 plus heat index of the last few days.  Most folks don't realize that the village I live on on post does not have air conditioning.  The newer villages come equipped with it in their housing but not my place.

Now as for rumors.  This morning I was woken up by the phone.  My bestie called me to find out if I knew anything about the rumor going around.  I said I had not heard about it but would call my spouse to find out if he knew.  He hadn't heard anything about it either.  So at this point we can neither confirm nor deny that there has been a shooting on the north fort of this installation.  The rumor is that some guy has an M-16 on north fort, which is now supposedly under lock down (yeah I'd like to see them try to lock down the whole north fort section and its training areas and lakes), and is running around shooting people.  I turned on the news stations, I searched for it online...NOTHING.  So again I cannot confirm nor deny the rumor.  It is just a rumor at this point.

With that being said I left my house unlocked and walked to the mail box and back.  Hey if someone is going to take me out they'll take me out.  Most likely I'll die of a heart attack before I'll die from a shooting.  Remember a shooting has better chances of survival than an unattended heart attack.

AF might just be going away after 13 days.  I have to be careful to whisper that little tid bit.

Yesterday I did more maintenance on ETSY.  I set up my shop with type of payment, policy, and shipping restriction.  Right now it will be domestic only.  I also took 4-5 photos of everything I have on-hand that I'll be putting in my shop.  Just a few items for now.  I still have to go about making more things.  I might just have it open by the 4th of Sept.  I figure why waste time on putting it up on the first if every one is away from the internet enjoying the labor day weekend.

What A Mess

There are days like today I really don't want to pay attention to the news.  However, because of my home page I saw that there was another killing by a US serviceman of civilians.  I'm disturbed.  I should be too.  This is only going to mean the killings will escalate.  I wonder if it will ever end.

Violence is scary.  Violence does breed more violence.  It terrorizes those that will deploy and those that have deployed that will come home.  Nightmares of the "what could happen" and "what did happen" will haunt our servicemen and women.

Rage and terror.  A few can't handle leaving or coming home.  A few won't make it there or back.  Suicides and domestic violence escalate before and after deployments.  Violence wins.

I'm one of the lucky ones.  I'm lucky because if J and I have a marriage issue we sit down and discuss it.  We continue to keep our marriage strong by using marriage counseling which is offered free of charge to service members through our insurance.  I just wish more servicemen and women were willing to take advantage of these services offered.  Maybe a few more innocent people wouldn't get hurt.  No there aren't enough counselors and appointments are hard to get but if its urgent you can get in to see a chaplain the same day before something you'll regret might happen.

Our service men and women are tired of fighting wars that can't be won.  Wars that seem to have no end.  Then they go home to find that the war is still raging on in their minds and now they are supposed to transition to a family life.  Every service member is supposed to have a physical and mental evaluation before leaving to be with their families.  It amounts to a survey.  Those surveys get stacked and only a few are seen and read clearly.  Surveys go unnoticed for months and sometimes years leaving the ticking time bombs to wreak  havoc on the community.

Fear.  I wonder if perhaps one of the reasons why our servicemen and women aren't getting the help that they might need is because of fear.  There is a stigma that is placed on those that seek out help.  They are often called weak.  There are bullies in the military just as much as there are on the playground.  Rank does not discriminate when it comes to bullies.  Sometimes a soldier will ask for help and not get it at all because someone else determines it wouldn't be cost effective to give them help or it might look like a blight upon their unit percentages.  For whatever the reason the serviceman or woman doesn't get the proper care that they need to handle their situation.

It could very well also be that the serviceman or woman is afraid that they will get discharged from the service.  A dishonorable discharge does not make it easy for a person to get a job in the civilian sector.  But tell me what is worse, going out on a killing spree and ending up either in jail or dead or getting the help that you need?

Don't get me wrong folks.  I love our military.  I love the freedoms that they have fought so hard to get us.  But I don't like how our military is treated when they get back home or are in theatre.  They shouldn't be bullied into not getting mental help if they feel like they need it.  They shouldn't be told that they can't make appointments because they have to work a particular shift.  If they need help and ask for it they should be listened to!

Sorry I'm ranting.  I'm upset.  Its just a big mess right now and I'm afraid of the aftermath from a few incidents.  I'm tired of hearing of more injured or dead.

Family: The Pain That Keeps Giving

I'm having one of those days where the Fibromyalgia pain is kicking my butt, shoulder, left ankle, neck, oh heck it all hurts.

I'm wondering if with taking the acetaminophen there isn't a little me just laughing sitting there on my shoulder at my futile attempts to control the pain.  I'd turn my head to take a look but that hurts too.

Its been an interesting past 11 days.  I've been holding in more secrets since my last posting about keeping secrets on the 6th of December.  I've been having more chest pains, irregular heart beat, and my blood pressure is way too high for being on the blood pressure medicine but I think I might have mentioned that in a recent blog.  The secret is that one of my parents in the hospital....AGAIN!  Yes the very one that I said was courting bad Karma in my blog post Taking Joy In Someones Pain.  Karma got his butt.  I'm not happy about it and I did warn him.  Mom made me promise to not tell any of the family until my father was well enough and no longer in the ICU.  Over the weekend, after almost a week in the ICU, he was finally transferred to a regular room.  Soon he'll be in a nursing home.  This is his fourth attack of congestive heart failure.  Heart issues seem to run in the family.

Since my closest relatives don't read my blog it doesn't really matter that I post about my dad here.  Mom only told me to not call any of my family friends and tell them if she thought they might blab.  I have one cousin that would do just that.  No, not you Nicki you read my blog the one that blabs doesn't.

So far my dad has had four close brushes with death.  This time is the worst it looks like.  He also has pneumonia and an infection in the blood.  If and when he comes home he'll be on machines.  Mom has already told me what the doctors have told her that he has been on borrowed time for the past five years.  We knew this too.  Some how my dad is always able to spring back just enough for just long enough to make it a few months without getting sick.  Maybe science should study his immune system.

So yes I'm more grumpy this holiday season due to two miscarriages so close together and one deathly ill parent.  I may not be close to my father but he is my father and I do not wish ill upon him or any other human due to the ripple effect.

Last week, late at night I called my spouse to let him know about my father in the hospital.  He was in the process of doing his sneaky work that I had to interrupt with tears.  I wouldn't have called but for the fact that he needed to know if I had to suddenly fly home.  The ripple effect does effect everyone.

On a happy note, my refrigerator vegetable compartments are now filled with my IVF medicines.  I picked up my grocery bag of medicines yesterday, my laundry bag of needles and got my flu shot too.  I'm all set. Come to think of it maybe its the flu shot making me all achy today; it probably is at that.

Taking Joy In Someone's Pain

Yup that's me right now.  I'm as angry as a bear that had something taken from it.

I'm having a double dose of reality.  I don't want to fully disclose everything and I certainly won't name names here but I can tell you that people are really disappointing me.

Some of you that follow my blog closely know that I don't have a good relationship with my parents.  Its true they aren't my favorite people nor the parents I always wanted and they are the source of my borderline personality disorder.

But when I need to verify facts within the family I still need to call them.  A cousin of mine, I grew up next door to her mom, recently lost her grandfather and her father within a few days of each other.  I called my parents to verify the facts.  I used to do genealogy and I should probably update my files now.

I'm pissed because my own father thought it was funny.  Yes, he was laughing at the posting about the deaths.  He'd probably now deny it to save face and Mom would back him up.  He's known for at least a day.  I told my mom that Dad is one sick son of a bitch and he'd better watch his karma for his reactions to these deaths.  His health isn't all that good.  He shouldn't be laughing at the demise of others.  Really he should be making amends like the good Roman Catholic he was brought up to be.  Wait a minute, is there really such a thing?  I think my father is perhaps on the other end of the scale there and he cultivates anger in others.

I know, I know, honor thy father and mother.  But when does that apply?  When they go too far they need to be reminded to not be so harsh about the feelings of other.

All I can say is for the sake of the grown children left behind, who are now fatherless, you'd think that my father, their uncle, would be offering condolences.

Oh and if any of my family is reading this, well seriously what you put out there comes back to haunt you.  You know quite well how I feel about your response with this matter.  I've told you on the phone too.

Yes, I've known other people that are just as twisted to find joy in the sorrow of others.  Yes there are plenty of them out there on Earth.  Those that take joy in the loss of someone's pregnancy, their loss of their home, or hard earned wealth.  I find it disgusting to say the least when someone takes joy in the pain of others.