Friday Night in the ICU

Friday, January 4, 2013 and I am in the family waiting area of Blodgett Hospital. Like many, I anticipated the coming new year with the hope that I would accomplish goals and overcome some of the obstacles I had faced the previous year. Who knew that New Year's Day would usher in the worst day of my life to date.

I called my mom on Sunday, December 30 to see how she was feeling because she had been saddled with a bothersome cough since the 14th. Christmas Eve she had complained of being nauseous and although my mom has never enjoyed shopping, I was surprised to learn that my sister had to do her Christmas shopping. That Sunday Mom was on her way to the casino and assured me she was fine and we talked about how tired I had been lately and that my bloodwork indicated that I again needed an increase in my medication.

I had no idea on New Year's Eve when the boys and I were watching a "Jaws" marathon and sending countelss text messages, that my mom was surging toward disaster. I awoke the morning of January 1 with the determination to take better control of my health and getting the house in order. I watched a movie while sipping coffee and finally made the move off the couch to shower and grab lunch. It was soon after I got out of the shower that my phone rang. It was Mom and Dad's house but I let it ring until I was ready to answer. I thought it was Mom asking what the boys and I were doing for the day and I would call in a matter of minutes.

I did return the call in a couple of minutes to Lisa answering breathlessly to tell me that she thought Mom had had a stroke. I know I screamed in the phone. The kids ran out of their rooms to see why I was in hysterics. Mom? She had to be mistaken. Mom is the healthy one. Mom is the one who always powers through illness. Mom is the one who has been exposed to chicken pox countless times and has never been afflicted. Dad is the one who has repeatedly been rushed to the ER. Dad is the one who couldn't make the 3000 mile trip to San Diego to see Jonny get married. Not Mom.

So here I am on a Friday night at the hospital with my mom unresponsive. She has bacterial meningitis and we pray everyday that there will be a sign of imporovement. My boys adore their grandma and I have become closer to Mom in the last few months. When I arrived Wednesday it was to hear my sister having to explain to me that the doctor was giving Mom less than 50 percent chance of surviving. I sobbed. I can't imagine losing Mom. I don't want to envision Mother's Day without her. I refuse to give up and think I will never feel her warm hug or hear her infectious laugh.

I continue to pray, I continue to hope and I will continue to have faith that Mom's strength courage and stubborness will see her through this.

Growl...

Today is day three of my Diet Fit plan and I am still trying to figure out how to eat at LEAST 35 grams of fiber a day. The IT manager asked what I was referring to when I said, "I'm doing the fiber thing" and he asked if I was writing about "thick poop" and how could I respond but in my own smartass manner of, "Yes, I'm writing about big turds."

Okay, I know that is enough potty talk for the day. My biggest worry about the fiber portion is that I am not going to have accurate findings and I am also famished, which tends to mess up any hope of lasting weight loss because my body will go into starvation mode. My metabolism and thyroid (what remains) is already totally messed up so I need not further destroy this basic bodily function. I've had a waffle with jam, two cups of coffee and an apple. I guess I better aim for a fiber rich lunch today so I don't come home and scarf down food like a Kurdish refugee.

So just how am I going to solve this issue? Eat paper? Buy expensive Fiber One bars? Depend on cereal that despite the claims of it being filling, it leaves me with my stomach grumbling what I am certain are the words, "Feed me, I'm starving"? I asked Diane at the gym last night and she said steel cut oats were the way to go. My manager suggested adding chia seeds to a smoothie. I am starting to feel as though I should have a feed bag.

So on I trudge with determination and a growling stomach.....

Diet Fit

As part of my job, I have the good fortune of getting to review books. Often the books I read are unedited and I get a sneak peek into what may be on the next New York Times bestseller list.

I just recently received a weight loss book, "The Case of the Unwanted Pounds," by Dr. Stutman, M.D. It is a food and exercise regimen with the hope of losing up to 15 pounds and 3 inches in the first 21 days. The plan alters a little after the first three weeks, but that is a pretty hefty weight loss for a short time frame. It is also a relatively simple concept. Daily food intake should include no more than 35 grams of fat and at least 35 grams of fiber. The fitness portion includes walking 35 minutes a day, six days a week and including one-two pound weights on three of the six days.

I decided to begin on a Monday following a weekend of debauchery. I weighed in at 159.8 lbs (that is a lot for me) and thought about how I was going to manage eating enough fiber in order to satiate my Sumo wrestler type appetite. I had an egg cooked in olive oil with two veggie sausages, a cup of coffee with creamer. Once I got to work, it didn't take long for the rumbling to begin. I filled my water bottle and dug out my apple.

The hustle and bustle of work helped with getting my mind on other matters but it wasn't long before I was dreaming of deep fried deliciousness that is McDonalds French fries, but fear not! I went to Subway and though my choice could have been even better, it still was not a heart attack in a bag.

Dinner is probably my greatest challenge because I am always extremely hungry and seem to never make either of the boys happy with my selections and while impatiently waiting for water to boil, meat to brown I scarf down salty potato chips. Last night, I sauteed chicken breast tenders with mesquite seasoning, chicken flavored rice and salad.

Walking just 35 minutes was hard for me to accept as my entire workout, but I did it. I envied the runners to the right ad left, but I proudly walked to the tunes rockin out in my MP3.

So with this, we shall see how I progress because I hope to ultimately lose 20 pounds and a total of 10 inches. Wish me well!

Holding Pattern

I'm a little sad and frankly a little selfish. I miss writing for myself and about my ridiculous self.

I have started therapy so I can figure just why it is I am the Queen of Failed Relationships. I often joke that I have a closet full of rattling skeletons, scraping their way out of the dark recesses of my past life. My therapist told me at my last appointment that my life is in a holding pattern, that I am in the middle of a bridge and trying to decide whether to return to the beginning or venture in the other direction.

What put me in the middle of this metaphorical bridge? Well, that is what I am trying to find out. It seems my sometimes desperate loneliness is a result of abandonment issues. Now I have the fun task of dredging up long ago memories of times when I felt alone and abandoned by those who should have comforted me and made me feel safe. While I am revisiting those times in my life, I don't feel like it is a blame game, simply a means for me to determine why I still can feel all alone in a crowded room full of people who love me.

All of this has translated to me living in an apartment with my boys and trying to figure out what to do next. I miss my dog and I'm scared to spend my 40th birthday and the holidays alone. I would never suggest that Robert is a bad person, jerk or someone I dislike. In fact, I am struggling with quite the opposite. When I am upset or not feeling well, he is immediate in checking in on me. If I have trouble with my car or the apartment, he never pauses to decide whether to help. Yet when I spend more than a few minutes around him, I am reminded of why I am in an apartment without my beloved Charlie.

For a person to be scared to be alone, it seems to be my destiny. It's ironic that I am the person at the paper who writes engagement, wedding and anniversary announcements. I frequently get a little misty when I write about a couple who has weathered the rougher storms of life together. I already know there is no way I will be one who celebrates a golden anniversary.

So here I stand in the middle of my bridge and still looking back over one shoulder and getting glances of the road ahead as well. I know I will soon have to decide which direction to take, I just hope it is the right direction.

Gotta just keep moving

I am ever so grateful that I have a job that allows me to meet fascinating people who invite me into their private world and bless me with the honor of telling one of the many stories that make up a life. With that being said, I have truly missed writing for myself, plunking out the words that whirl around in my brain on a constant basis.

For the last few months I have been trying to adjust to new surroundings, a new schedule and a different way to go about living life. In that time, I have learned that I am better at managing money than I thought I was, I have learned that my kids are highly entertaining and at times emotionally and physically exhausting. I have learned that I have some amazing friends and family and that I have some friends who aren't as good as I thought.

I have also learned that I have a history of repeating mistakes. Rather than the tried and true method of learning through mistakes, I seem to just make them over and over. I have also discovered that I have some deep seeded need to be comforted and feel safe. On this path of discovery I have accepted that I cannot decipher all of this mystery on my own and then figure out how to move forward and perhaps stop the cycle that has plagued me for years.

The good part of this self examination is that I recognize that I need work but I can also see the good in me. I know that I am doing the best I can at raising my children. I know that I have developed a better relationship with my mom and I better understand why she did some of the things she did when I was a child. I know that I am kind and have been blessed with the ability to make people feel at ease.

In the meantime, I will return to having the wonderful opportunity to meet people who add interest to my daily life. I will continue to find ways to grow closer to my boys and take life one step and day at a time.

Friends Through it all

I wrote in my journal this morning and I mean literally wrote-two hard covers with blank pages between and a pen. I refrain from doing so regularly because I type considerably faster than I write and I can keep pace with my thoughts better. Using a laptop borrowed from work and no wifi deems it necessary to go about things the old fashioned way.

I have been struck by multiple things in the last couple of weeks and just wasn't coping very well. First, I have a 12-year-old son teetering on the edge of teenagedom and all the trappings of a changing voice and pimples. He is also having trouble accepting the fact that school starts soon. He is not suffering from the normal end of summer blues, but full blown depression about the coming school year. Math is a very difficult subject for him and I know how difficult it is for him to sit still and focus through an entire hour of class.

Coping with life changes is part of life for a parent, but just when I needed a good friend most, I didn't have one to turn to. I've long befriended boys/men because I'm not a girly girl and I enjoy being rather uncouth at times. So knowing I could not talk to my closest friend was completely heartbreaking. The thing about wanting to contact him was not just about crying about the heartache I'm suffering because of my boy hurting, but I desperately wanted a few hours to forget about the pain. I just wanted to watch a movie or grab a beer but I have been sidelined. It's not just backing away for a while, it is essentially being dumped.

I hold my friends in high esteem and feel they are just part of my larger family. I am a generous friend with my time and gifts. I never go into a friendship wondering what I might get in return for the things I so love to give, but I am also aware that all relationships are two way streets and you stick through it in good times and in bad. I am no fair weather friend and need to learn and accept that some people just are. I hope that I awaken tomorrow morning with a clear vision of who should remain in my life and who might be better a memory.

Good Health: A Precious Commodity

Earlier this evening, I headed out for a run. It's common for me to do so in the late afternoon because it works with my schedule and I seem to be well suited for a run at that time of day. I am often contemplative and the necessity to regulate the rhythm of my breathing, keeps me calm and serene. I don't know whether it is my increased mileage or the speed work I did the day before, but I pushed myself harder and faster than normal. I tried to be aware of my pace because I didn't want to run out of umph too soon.

Technically, I am not fast nor will I ever be but tonight I felt swift and strong. I realize despite my belief that there most certainly had to be flames bursting from the heels of my shoes, I was simply moving along at a faster than normal pace. I still enjoyed the cheering section in my brain as I made my way along the trail. When I had reached mile 2, I felt it. "It" was a burning in my left quad and it was sending pain down to the top of my knee and it hurt like hell. Always looking out for me, Rick cautioned that I not push too hard and risk injury but I wanted to push dammit. I had to stop to allow traffic to speed along M-91 so I rubbed my leg with the hope of alleviating the burn.

I safely crossed the intersection and started along, again at a good clip. Truthfully, the faster my stride, the better my leg felt. It was then I got into my zone. It is at this moment when my lungs and legs work in unison and I can feel the sheer joy of strength flow through my veins. I also can start to do what I love most about running and that was to pray. Before heading out, I read a friend's Facebook status that her friend's child had been diagnosed with leukemia just today. Prayers had been requested and it was all I could do.

My burning leg seemed so petty as did my fretting over finances or fussing about the size of my waist. All of my grumblings over the mundane were deemed immediately moot. Not only did I pray fervently for this sweet child of God to be healed, but that her parents be comforted. I prayed a prayer of thanksgiving for my healthy children and for my own good health that was pushing me along. I thought of the saying, "Well, at least you have your health," often offered to someone who has lost nearly everything. It really takes on a new meaning. How good does food taste if one is unhealthy? How lovely are new clothes when too sick to get dressed?

I have never had the honor of meeting the lovely blue-eyed, blonde child whose cherubic face is now my friend's Facebook cover. I have met her mother once in person, after interviewing her over the phone about exciting painting projects she had undertaken to personalize her daughters' rooms. I thought of how I can guarantee that her mother would switch places with her child in an instant. There is no doubt in my mind that she would be willing to take the burden of undergoing treatment to save her daughter from having to do so.

Before I headed out the front door to hit the trail, I hugged each of my boys tightly, kissed them and told them how very much I love them and that they mean the world to me. It's likely there will be some frustration tomorrow and perhaps a little bickering, but it will not change the fact that I love my children unconditionally and whole heartedly. Please pray for the Town Family of Greenville. Keep little Bree in your prayers for healing and that her parents be comforted and supported while they love their precious girl through this scary time in their lives.