I made some adjustments some time ago to my control panel that I’m now not happy with. It would seem that wordpress worked out the kinks, and their new version is just what I want. Except, I changed files that aren’t affected by upgrades. So I need to redo totally. I don’t remember how to redo totally. I’m going to do it anyway. I might be back. I might not. I may lose everything. I think I have it all backed up. We’ll see.
When you say fuck it and delete every .htaccess file you come across, you may find that your shit works again. Although you may find that out AFTER you delete the pages you had set up. So, I redid the blogroll page, but it ain’t pretty. But it works. All that matters. And I created a reviews blog like E has so that I can give them the attention they deserve. Now to just upload all these new pics I have so the gallery is fresh.
I have an appt to talk to the counselor gal at the college next week. I know. Don’t fall over. Just the fact that I actually made that phone call should earn me some serious points at my looney appt on the 5th. And if I actually show up? Geezus.
I’ve spent the past 2 days taking practice test after practice test for the ACT. She said I don’t have to take it again, and that my score from high school was “good” [25], but I could hear her joy when I said I wanted to retake it. I WANT to take it now. I WANT to study for it now. I WANT to get a good score on it. I didn’t give two shits in high school. I partied the night before the test, and never once did I make any attempt to prepare for it before hand.
If there was a way I could journey back and kick my ass — omhell. I took 4 years of math and I couldn’t tell you a muthafuckin thing about any of it. I’m such a dumbass. I don’t seem to have any trouble with the other 3 parts of the test, but the math? Seriously – holy shit. I have 2 months to relearn 4 years. Fun times.
And uh … I know there are some of you that are math wizards, and I was wondering if I had a question about a specific problem — is there anyone I could email? A lot of these have explanations, but some of them aren’t very helpful. They assume you have the base of whatever area it’s in — geometry/algebra/trig/etc, and I am trying to rebuild my base as I go. So if anyone out there is game for about a million emails from a frazzled bitch who cannot fucking believe she ever made it through high school — I’d love to hear from you.
MB5: What is that?
MM: uh ….. well …..
MB5: a diaper?
MM: no …. it’s a …… it’s a bandaid
MB5: a bandaid? for your butt?
MM: yes ….. mommy has a booboo on her butt
MB5: ok (and appears to be satisfied)
…..
…..
…..
MB5: let me see it
Happy Late Birthday to Moody Sister, who turned 18 yesterday. Or was that 33? I forget.
My sister started back to school last semester, and kicked ass with straight A’s. She has now decided to switch her major to Nursing. Just so happened to be the same day that I made the decision to go to nursing school next August.
Too bad my grandfather isn’t still alive. He was an asshole, but he often said he’d pay the way for any one of his grandchildren who wanted to go to nursing school. My mom’s mom was a private home health nurse, and she was deeply loved in the community. Her funeral procession is on record for the longest in this town’s history. She lost her fight with breast cancer when my mom was 15 years old. Great many reasons right there why mom is so screwed in the head. Her and her seven sisters were left in the hands of her dad. The asshole. Still, his moolah would be great right about now.
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I wish I could fall asleep. I wish I could sleep all night. I’d give your left nut for some sleep.
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When you buy clothes with words written on the ass, is it required to walk so that your bottom swings side to side in a sort of ding dong fashion so that everyone knows you’re a walking billboard? For the record, I hate having my attention drawn to your ass. I don’t want to look at your ass. I make fun of you as you swish that ass. Moron.
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It is better to have loved and lost, than to spend the rest of your life with a psycho.
That shit made me laugh. Really hard. Just glad I didn’t find that on MD’s bumper.
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We have two new kittens — BeBe and Squeak. Adorable as hell. Got them last weekend to see if they could cheer me up. And they did. They come when you call them. They play. They sleep on your lap. They purr. Our other cats do none of these things. I think they’re broken.
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I actually took some pictures the other day. I might actually edit them and throw them up on the gallery. Uhmm… but don’t expect me to do that shit anytime soon. Without sleep, my brain no worky so well.
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I was a good student back in the day. Like way back in the day. 20 friggin years ago. But how do I know I’ll be one this time around? It’s been a long ass time. I’m a little nervous. I plan on calling the school Monday. Going to at least find out what I need to do and when I need to do it. I was told it’s good to start this early — for next August. Scholarship deadlines are Oct-Mar. Isn’t that insane? I guess they need it all taken care of, but damn. How do you apply the next year? Or do you have to? I have so much to learn.
It’s like I’m slowly catching on that he’s no longer here. My dad. Removed some pictures of him from the jumpdrive today so that MB1 could use it for class. I put the pics on there for the video the funeral home made of him. It’s been a little over two weeks since he died, and this is the first time since the funeral that I’ve actually seen him – if only just a picture, and my heart just broke. I miss him terribly. And I find that I’m incredibly pissed off that I can’t just wish this all away simply because it wasn’t supposed to happen. I have honestly caught myself trying to think of a way to fix this. To somehow conjure him back by finding a loophole. Like finding 50 million reasons for him to live will rewrite history. But it won’t. I know that.
—
History as it will forever be written…
—
Both the hospice folks and the hospital folks said that dad could pass at any time. His vitals were still so-so, but they said that that could change in an instant. We waited that first day well into most of the night, but then MS and I went home to catch a shower and a few z’s around 2am. When we got up there the next morning, mom went home to freshen up.
We spent the day talking to friends and relatives that had come to say goodbye to dad. I saw people I hadn’t seen since I was very small — but I knew how important they were to my dad once upon a time, and it crushed me to see grown men crumble like that as they entered his room. I saw hard ass construction workers bawl like a baby in the hallway — not even able to go inside. I saw his brother wail uncontrollably for hours — and this is the one he hadn’t even seen in over a year.
We spent the day in the window — a little cove right across from his room that had a great view of the parking lot and a tiny little loveseat-ish chair for us to fight over. The rest of us would pull up a spare wheelchair they had laying around. We joked about having wheelchair races and blowing up the oxygen tanks as we crashed. We would jump up and haul ass if we heard one noise from his room or saw his leg move or saw a nurse or tech enter. And one of us would check on him every 5 minutes regardless.
We spent the day with the staff — discussing his slipping vitals. The nun/chaplain from hospice came for a long time the day before, but not this day. The hospital chaplain did come though, but he didn’t enter dad’s room. Although my dad was very spiritual, he lost his religion long ago. There was really no need for the visit. For those with faith, it was strong and keeping them going — for those of us without it, … well … a little pep talk from some chaplain wasn’t going to make one shit’s difference. But it was nice anyway. I suppose.
We spent the day waiting for dad to die. What a shitty thing to do.
That evening, as people started to head home, we moved into dad’s room. We watched as they took his vitals again — 50/35. Oxygen was 72, even with a comfort level of oxygen being piped in. He was started to show signs of mottling, and the doc came in and said it was close. We had been sitting down talking, and at some point, we became gathered around the bed. I know we talked this way for about 20-30 minutes, but all at once, the conversation just sort of ended. We looked down at dad, and I heard myself say breathe dad. And he did. Finally. Then his next breath seemed to never happen. But it did. Finally. Mom hollered for MS to get the nurse, but I told her to come back because we didn’t need anyone but us. Neither me nor MS wanted to be in the room when it happened, but only because we were afraid of how it would happen. Since it seemed so peaceful, I knew she would want to be in there, like I did.
We waited, but the next breath didn’t come. Mom rubbed his cheek and told him goodbye as she braced and cried, and I leaned in to kiss his cheek. Of course, as soon as I touched his head, his whole body convulsed and he took a very haggard breath. But what should I expect from dad? We were all able to chuckle after I pissed my pants. We waited again for another breath, but nothing. So MS leaned in to tell him good bye, and he did the same damn thing. Yeah, it’s normal, but I still think if there was the slightest chance for him to get us one last time, he would make it happen, and be up there laughing his ass off.
When the next breath never came, I went to find the nurses. They were both crying before they got to the room. That’s why I want to be a nurse up there on 3 South. They care. Maybe too much, and maybe the burn out in that section is high, but I don’t care. Someone needs to care that much for these people. Some don’t have families. Some don’t have anyone there with them as they die. How horrible would that be?
I stayed outside the room to call MD, and then I saw the nurses flying by. It would appear that dad was a stubborn cuss who thought it was funny to go minutes and minutes without taking a breath. I mean, some people would die after going that long. Oh wait…..
Anyway, I hung up on MD after saying something like …..WHAT?? HE’S STILL ALIVE?? Gotta go hon. I heard his shrieks as I hit the red button — WHAT????????? He eventually gave up and we all said our goodbyes. The chaplain came down — not for dad, but because he qualified to be an organ donor — can you believe that? He always figured that he couldn’t because of the wreck he had, and then because of the widespread cancer. But, it turns out that his beautiful blue eyes are perfectly ok to give someone else the gift of sight. It didn’t take much talking to decide that we would do it, but that meant we had to speed things up so the transplant team could get to work. They needed to put ice packs on his eyes, and that upset us — so we had to leave. Probably sooner than we would have, but I guess that’s ok too, considering why we had to leave. I’ve had quite a few nightmares about this whole eye business — I’ll let you figure it out, but I’m still glad we did it.
The nurses gave mom a keepsake ornament, and a candle/poem. I know it’s just the standard goodie bag you win when your loved one dies, but it was still nice. She looked so small. Mom did. And confused. And then she had to answer a very long round of questions right there in the room not even 30 minutes after he died about the organ donation. That took a lot out of her, I could tell. But she did it anyway.
I want to thank my friend P for all she did for us the past 4-5 weeks. Groceries, picking up kids, cleaning my house, doing my laundry, taking the kids for shopping trips to spruce up their hectic lives. She came in at least 3 times while I was at home and took over because she knew I just couldn’t … that’s it. I just couldn’t. I suffered from a very nasty case of heat exhaustion at the tournament, and I was down for the count from about 1pm until around noon the next day. She came over and took care of me and the kids while MD and MS and my cousin finished things up. She’ll probably never read this, but I hope to show her my appreciation someday. Just need to think of something special.
I want to thank my sister for being there for mom during that time. I know I have a lot of trouble with her, but she handled herself with true class the week or so before he died, and that’s all that matters. Well, there was the incident about the flowers, but I will let that go for now. MS stayed with her and that kept mom from being alone, at a time when it’s just not good to be alone. And just having her there, having all of us there for dad… it was just perfect.
I want to thank everyone here and on my board for all the comments and emails and prayers and support and gifts and cards and everything else I’ve forgotten like an ass. Again, I’ll never be able to say how thankful I am with mere words, but I am. Truly thankful to have all of you in my life.
I want to thank my other real life friends J and H for coming to dad’s services. They both lost their dads to cancer, and I know it’s still very raw. One lost her dad two years ago, and the other 11 years ago — but she still can’t speak about him or my dad without tears. Lots of tears. Some days I’m afraid she’s grieved more for dad than I have. But neither of the girls and I have spent a lot of time talking the past few years, so I want them to know how much it meant to see them there.
And I want to thank my dad for a lifetime of memories. Good ones. Great ones. I know dad loved us fiercely, and there just isn’t really anything better than that.
Still not sleeping very well. Taking the meds again, but not the lamictal or the seroquel. Started taking the risperdal instead. I hope it kicks in soon, Im’ tired of feeling like this. I haven’t been this down in a long time, and the lithium doesn’t seem to be working. Nor the wellbutrin. Our insurance should start on the 1st, and I can get my ass back to the doctor. She’ll have a mess of shit to deal with then.
Kids are off to school today. Even MG. My baby girl is now in school. Taking it better than I have with the older boys, probably because she’s so damn outgoing. She’s not afraid in the least, and she already did fantastic at the summer school/camp back in June. She was the first one out the door, and the first one on the bus. I hope they all have great days. Lawd knows mine will be fabulous with only the wee one home. Now to figure out what to do with myself. I know that in February, I’m going to get the ball rolling for school starting next August, but I don’t know what to do until then. Doesn’t seem fair to watch kids or work for only 6 months, but I hate sitting here when we’re struggling so much financially. We didn’t know that for the first 6 months, the drivers are only paid half of their salary each week. They still make full commissions, but that’s still a chunk of change to be missing each check. So, he’s back at the volleyball place for now. I just hate this shit. That’s why I’m going to school. I’m tired of being poor. Tired of only having a handful of jobs to choose from. Tired of not being able to enjoy ourselves for a change. I plan on fixing all that. Then I can work while MD heads to school. Ok, so it’ll be 8 years…..8.5 years until we are all settled with our new careers, but oh well. We’ll still have a couple kids at home to reap the rewards. And our future after the kids are gone won’t terrify me so much.
MB1 found a car. Actually my cousin found it. Her FIL asked if my son had found one yet, and she laughed and said – with $200 saved? No, he hasn’t. So he said he’d sell him one he had for $200. Nice guy. Car is older, but it runs. Has right front panel damage, but it runs. Needs the brakes bled and the oil changed, but it runs. Has a few other minor issues, but it runs. And it has air. And power windows. And it runs. He’s thrilled. He picks it up tomorrow, and then the world had better look out. Actually, he’s a much better driver now than he was.
It’s his brother you need to watch out for. My gawd. He finally passed his test – on the 5th try. This is simply the written part. We let him drive in a parking lot, and …. well, I never thought I could be that scared. In a parking lot. With no other cars and no other obstacles. Just him and the road. And my screams. Oh, my screams. How loud they were. And the next night, we all went out for an open house, and decided to let him drive at the park a little bit. He doesn’t seem to understand that you can’t drive in the ditch. Sometimes there are parked cars there. And mailboxes. And people walking. And sometime when your mom screams, you should just stop the car. Especially when she’s screaming — Stop! Stop! Stop the fucking car! Brake! Brake! Yeah, she’s probably speaking from her heart.
My house is so quiet. Wow. I really should get the wee one up, but then again, for what? Too early and he’ll take a nap — and he no longer takes naps. Then he’ll be up until midnight. If I let him sleep until 8:30, he will make it until about 9:30 — which is perfect. So it looks like I have a half an hour to let loose and act crazy. Or maybe I’ll just fold laundry.
So how long does it take to get this insomnia shit out of your system?
I can’t sleep, so I might as well sit here and type up some nonsense.
I find myself wondering if I’m handling the whole grieving thing properly. I never have before. I have sharply honed the art of stuffing back the sorrow into a tidy box of denial. I can successfully erase the fact that I knew someone on a personal level. I’ve done it over and over and over again. Simply too much death over the course of my life to NOT have an escape route like this. But, I wasn’t medicated back then, and there were fantastic fissures of chaos in other areas of my life as the grief found new outlets of release. But the problems it created didn’t bother me, as I wasn’t bothered by much back then. Fuck ‘em.
So it’s not like I don’t know that this is a shitty way of dealing with it, but I don’t think I know the proper way. I don’t know how. I don’t know what’s normal. I’m trying to do it right this time. I know that cheating the system ain’t going to be possible if I want to avoid self-destructing. I know I’m already leaning that way without the help of my meds. I’m taking the lithium again, but I’m out of the rest, and I really need the risperdal or seroquel or horse tranquilizers or something to handle the aggression that’s popping out toward my family. I still have my risperdal. I think I might go ahead and start it back up for now. At least until I can see the doc. Hopefully, that’ll be next month. I’m not worried, as I never had a reaction to it other than the no-sex thing. And that’s not a problem right now. Ew.
But how do I know if I’m doing it right? Should I cry all the time? ‘Cause I don’t. I’ve cried briefly two times, but nothing to the level that my mind says he deserves. Does that make sense? I owe him more than this. Not only do I still have an appetite, I’m actually eating for the first time in months. I am so back on my game in terms of running the house that it doesn’t seem real. Or possible. I’m handling the back to school thing with ease.
Except I want to tell everyone to shut the fuck up. And I’m fighting the urge to tell everyone I meet that my dad died last week. Seriously. I’ve worked it into at least 3 conversations the past two days, and I don’t know why. It’s like it’s already been over a week and time is slipping by so fucking fast that pretty soon no one will care but me. Us. Because I know my sister is reading this and she’s not sleeping well and she’s not eating well and we’re lost in this together and no one else knows that we’re even missing. Like this beautiful little secret that I’m not supposed to tell anybody. The world does not give a shit that my wonderful father is now ashes.
I’m personally thinking the whole stuff the grief thing might be easier than this shit.
Not ready to talk about dad yet. The past couple weeks are still zooming around in my head, and it’d be impossible to sort through it just yet. So I’m not going to try.
I will say that we had the tournament and it went very well, considering that MD wasn’t working there anymore to promote it, and no one was interested in doing what needed to be done since dad was so sick. We still have around $1100 or so after expenses. I’m not complaining. Every bit helps. Every little bit.
Trying to get the kids ready for school with this non-functioning brain of mine. Older boys have registration today and tomorrow. Time to start coughing up the cash. Guess that means I better reconcile my account. I haven’t done anything with the bills for a month. I deposit paychecks, and that’s it. I haven’t paid bills. I haven’t written any menus or gone grocery shopping. I couldn’t tell you how much is in the bank. I just haven’t done anything. Very unlike me. Hopefully I will get to that mess today. Bleah.
I started taking my pills again. Yesterday was not a good day to start my ‘back into the swing of things’ shit. I pushed through, but man it was rough. I know the lithium kicks in quick, so that eases my mind a bit. Not really concerned with the rest. I absolutely cannot take this seroquel. I tried again last night, and damn. In bed 15 minutes after taking it – which turned out to be 8:30pm. And then I couldn’t get out of bed until 8 am. I usually pop up at 6am no matter if I have to be awake or not. That’s ok though. Either she finds something else or she doesn’t. I’m doing ok in that regard anyway. Sort of. Enough. Or maybe it’s that I don’t give a shit if I’m being mean or not. Good chance.
I’m going room by room as I get things back to normal. The living room was yesterday, and I still didn’t get done. Mostly the decluttering. I wanted it all to get done. Then again, I ended up working on the kitchen a little yesterday, so maybe I can get it done quickly and get back to the shit I missed in the computer area. I did catch up all of the laundry. 9 loads. Took all fucking day. Literally. My dryer sucks and it takes 2 go-rounds to dry a load. Roughly 2 hours a load. It’s a bunch of shit, I tell you that.
I got a bunch of plants from dad’s funeral. I don’t know where I was going with that.
There, brain is empty, save the jumbled mess of shit I have yet to go through.
I have a bunch of reviews to post. I fell behind this month because of the things going on with dad. I’m going to post them all at once so it’s a biggie.
There were so many things that I was going to come here and say, but I can’t remember any of it. So, I’ll just say that as of yesterday morning, dad is in a coma. They really thought he would pass yesterday, but his heart is still hanging in there. I came home early this morning for a few hours sleep and a shower, and now I’m headed back up. I know there’s more, but my brain is on the fritz.
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Oh yeah, they have dad in an in-patient hospital/hospice situation. Very strange get-up, but it’s working out rather well. They discharged him, then admitted him under hospice, and he gets both hospital care and hospice care. It makes us feels a lot better since he needs a bit more care than we can provide.
I know it’s stupid, but now instead of hearing that music playing in my head? It’s music with static.
Wish I didn’t believe in that sort of shit, but I do, and now I can’t help but wonder if the lady in my dreams was talking about dad.
We meet with the funeral home in 2 hours. I’m wondering how much tequila I can drink in 2 hours. I’m sure it’s considered a breakfast food somewhere.
He’s just really going downhill. My sister got here yesterday, and I’m so glad. And word spread around the family and dad’s friends, and there has been a steady stream of visitors ever since. Except that dad just seems to get agitated. There are some people that he really lights up for, and then others (us included sometimes) that he just stares right through – and that is incredibly creepy.
We’re still not sure what’s going on. The doctor said we don’t have to take him home since it won’t be long and he still technically needs medical care, but the hospital admin seems to be pushing for him to go home or to a home (nursing home). They claim the insurance won’t pay for much more. I could see that being true if dad was just taking up space here, but he’s still hooked to machines and what not and is still receiving care that we could not provide at home. Doesn’t that mean he needs to be in like any other sick person? Guess we’ll see what happens today.
Now they say it’ll be a matter of days. He’s going downhill rather quickly. No longer able to swallow pills or use a straw. Mom and I set up hospice yesterday, but then discussed it all day, and we’re just not sure that’s a wise move. I know he wants to come home, but he has a lot of different issues going on, and he’s honestly better off in the hospital with 24 hour nursing care. I’m just not sure we can do what needs to be done, and hospice isn’t there but once a day. Plus, she’s scared. She doesn’t want to be alone in the house with him if something happens. Especially if his end is not the peaceful one everyone claims it will be. I told her I’d leave that up to her. Hell yes I’m nervous to bring him home. I’m not a nurse and he needs medical care. But I’ll do my best if need be. It helps that he doesn’t even know where he is.
With the head of hospice giving him only a couple of days, that makes it a very real possibility that he’ll pass on or around the tournament. Still haven’t figured that out yet. I do not want to cancel. I will not. Dad wouldn’t want me to. It’s too important. Especially now.
Oh, what to say. What to say. Mind feels totally fucked. Might have something to do with the fact that I couldn’t get to sleep last night until 5am. Feels criminal how wonderful it feels to be sitting here in this chair in my house with our smells and sounds. I’m just trying not to look around at this disgusting house. What cleaning I am able to do is quickly undone the second I leave the house. Holy shit. There isn’t one clean room. Not one. And we’re not talking about a bit messy. Every fucking room is dirty.
And holy hell is this house empty. Of food. And dish soap. And toothpaste. And toilet paper as of one hour ago. And it’s not that I can’t go buy some. I still run a mean budget. I just can’t find the damn time to get anything.
Spent today interviewing hospices. Learned more about what’s going on from the doctor. So it’s not exactly the brain that’s going to kill him, but the liver. The cancer has at least doubled in size from the scan took just 5 or so weeks ago. The business in the brain is just going to make things worse. Gotcha. So, that’s that. As soon as he’s stabilized, he’ll come home.
