For the move... I'm absolutely unprepared. Thank goodness I'm moving in with my dad to start off, but I'm even nervous about that. I think it'll be good though...it'll be nice to not have so much time alone to let my thoughts get the best of me hopefully.
I'm worried about not having a job lined up, but then also worried that if I DO have a job lined up I won't have enough time to get things all together down here in maryland. I know I don't have to worry because I called the local temp agency and they have openings, so I can always fall back on temping, but I'm still worried. I'm a worrier, what can I say.
They allow smoking in Pa bars, it sucks. I forgot how much i hated that! I don't plan on becoming a regular at the bars though, so it's all good.
I hope I'm making the right decision by moving back. I'm pretty sure I am and I'll be able to have the house I've always wanted....eventually. housing is another thing I have to figure out! LOL.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Golden Girls
I felt I needed to follow that one up with a happier note!
So my mom and dad were divorced since I was 1. I only remember them being divorced.
Well, my dad had me minimally every other weekend growing up and we were like clockwork on friday nights after he picked me up. We would sit on his brown leather recliner and watch the friday night sitcom line up! He would sit in the seat and I was probably like 8, so I'd sit on the arm to the right of him and prop my feet on the foot thingy too. We would eat popcorn with LOTS of butter or ritz crackers with cheese. If it was cream cheese, a lot of the time I would eat the cheese off the cracker and hand back the cracker asking for "more please" Otherwise he bought one of those large blocks of cheddar cheese and cut off pieces with pressing the butter knife into the block towards his thumb.
We watched The Golden Girls, Empty Nest, and Threes Company. I loved it! I think that's kind of funny since I was only like 8ish. I miss it......
So my mom and dad were divorced since I was 1. I only remember them being divorced.
Well, my dad had me minimally every other weekend growing up and we were like clockwork on friday nights after he picked me up. We would sit on his brown leather recliner and watch the friday night sitcom line up! He would sit in the seat and I was probably like 8, so I'd sit on the arm to the right of him and prop my feet on the foot thingy too. We would eat popcorn with LOTS of butter or ritz crackers with cheese. If it was cream cheese, a lot of the time I would eat the cheese off the cracker and hand back the cracker asking for "more please" Otherwise he bought one of those large blocks of cheddar cheese and cut off pieces with pressing the butter knife into the block towards his thumb.
We watched The Golden Girls, Empty Nest, and Threes Company. I loved it! I think that's kind of funny since I was only like 8ish. I miss it......
I'll bite your armpit
As I was driving back to Maryland from my weekend in Pennsylvania today, I was of course reflecting upon life. Just be warned this reflection is not one of my more happier ones and while I don't dwell on it and don't think of it often, I did today so I thought I'd write about it.
I grew up in a blended family. I have 2 older step brothers, 1 older half brother (same mother), and 2 younger half brothers (same mother). My older half brother was abusive. He's 4 years older than myself and really would beat me up.
What I remembered today was this specific event in particular:
My mom was always good at helping me study, so we were sitting at the kitchen table and she was quizzing me on my school knowledge for an upcoming exam. A study technique that worked well for me all throughout my school days. I was about 11 or 12 at this time.
My brother was being punished for something at the time, it was always something...it made no sense to me why he was always getting into trouble. It was like he was looking for it half the time. Well, my mother was making him do his own laundry as part of his punishment. So, my mother's back is to him and I'm facing him when he comes out and declares all his whites are now pink while holding up one of his t-shirts that is indeed a very nice shade of light pink. I giggle because I think it's funny that he made that classic mistake. He FLYS across the kitchen, wraps his arm around me and puts me in what is called "choke hold" in wrestling. Everyone has at one time or another choked on something and felt that panic of not being able to breathe. It's scary! My mother is sitting across from this, gets up and is trying to get him off of me and yelling at him to stop! He's about 15 or 16 nowadays, so he's too strong for either of us! I pass out from him choking and thankfully my step father was upstairs and runs down to the kitchen to see what all the commotion is about and pulls my brother off of me! I giggled at his damn t-shirt being pink.
It was shortly after this that he was permanently put into foster care because the medical professionals couldn't find any mental illness to treat when he'd be at the hospital, but mom was afraid he'd kill one of my younger brothers or me.
We had a lock on the outside of his bedroom door to lock him in there sometimes until my step father got home...a chain lock, not just a door lock. I remember times I was about to call 911 because he was trying to throw mom down the stairs.
I think I have a fear of being under water because mom recalls a story about my brother trying to drown me before in the pool we used to have at the old house, which had to be before I was 8. She came out and same thing...I was passed out from him holding me underwater. Who knows what I did to deserve that. It was a daily occurence to get hit, kicked, punched and you know as a child you don't understand. He'd convince me to not even tell mom because then he'd be grounded and I'd be bored with no one to play with. He'd also tell me how sorry he was he did it. I actually looked up to him.
One time he did something to me and he was holding my arms, so I used my teeth and I bite a HUGE chunk of his armpit out! Haha, that was awesome and thankfully I already had escaped his hand over my mouth and called for mom when I did that!!!
What really sucks, is you'd think that today he would have guilt for all the crap he put me through, but he claims he doesn't even remember. I'm not sure I believe him or not, it's possible, he's done a lot of drugs, but I just keep my distance either way.
I grew up in a blended family. I have 2 older step brothers, 1 older half brother (same mother), and 2 younger half brothers (same mother). My older half brother was abusive. He's 4 years older than myself and really would beat me up.
What I remembered today was this specific event in particular:
My mom was always good at helping me study, so we were sitting at the kitchen table and she was quizzing me on my school knowledge for an upcoming exam. A study technique that worked well for me all throughout my school days. I was about 11 or 12 at this time.
My brother was being punished for something at the time, it was always something...it made no sense to me why he was always getting into trouble. It was like he was looking for it half the time. Well, my mother was making him do his own laundry as part of his punishment. So, my mother's back is to him and I'm facing him when he comes out and declares all his whites are now pink while holding up one of his t-shirts that is indeed a very nice shade of light pink. I giggle because I think it's funny that he made that classic mistake. He FLYS across the kitchen, wraps his arm around me and puts me in what is called "choke hold" in wrestling. Everyone has at one time or another choked on something and felt that panic of not being able to breathe. It's scary! My mother is sitting across from this, gets up and is trying to get him off of me and yelling at him to stop! He's about 15 or 16 nowadays, so he's too strong for either of us! I pass out from him choking and thankfully my step father was upstairs and runs down to the kitchen to see what all the commotion is about and pulls my brother off of me! I giggled at his damn t-shirt being pink.
It was shortly after this that he was permanently put into foster care because the medical professionals couldn't find any mental illness to treat when he'd be at the hospital, but mom was afraid he'd kill one of my younger brothers or me.
We had a lock on the outside of his bedroom door to lock him in there sometimes until my step father got home...a chain lock, not just a door lock. I remember times I was about to call 911 because he was trying to throw mom down the stairs.
I think I have a fear of being under water because mom recalls a story about my brother trying to drown me before in the pool we used to have at the old house, which had to be before I was 8. She came out and same thing...I was passed out from him holding me underwater. Who knows what I did to deserve that. It was a daily occurence to get hit, kicked, punched and you know as a child you don't understand. He'd convince me to not even tell mom because then he'd be grounded and I'd be bored with no one to play with. He'd also tell me how sorry he was he did it. I actually looked up to him.
One time he did something to me and he was holding my arms, so I used my teeth and I bite a HUGE chunk of his armpit out! Haha, that was awesome and thankfully I already had escaped his hand over my mouth and called for mom when I did that!!!
What really sucks, is you'd think that today he would have guilt for all the crap he put me through, but he claims he doesn't even remember. I'm not sure I believe him or not, it's possible, he's done a lot of drugs, but I just keep my distance either way.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Go Fetch the Chicken Eggs!
You may or may not know this about me, but I had a lot of responsibility from a very young age growing up. We always had A LOT of animals growing up. Not really a farm per se (my new favorite phrase to thrown in lately) because it's not like these animals or most of them were useful. We had so many cats and dogs I can't even remember them all. I remember we raised ginea pigs, rabbits, Mice (to feed the snake, mind you, ICK!), hamsters, cats, birds.
You guessed it, we had a chicken coup growing up when I lived in Etters, Pa. We lived in the house in Etters until I was 8 years old. So every morning either myself or my brother had to go outside into the chicken coup and collect the eggs laid. The chicken coup was partly a large crate covered in chicken wire and that was connected to another part that looked similar to a shed, however, on both sides when you entered the door, little hay beds were made for the chickens to lay their eggs.
I remember one chicken in particular that was my favorite. It looked similar to the one I imported, fluffy like that. However, It was mostly white with like blue highlights. I couldn't find a photo or maybe my memory is just not correct, but I swear that's how I remember it!
I know, little did you know I'm a crazy country girl at heart.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Talking to Fans...I'm not crazy
My mother reminded me of this today.
My friend and I used to set up shop, but I guess growing up in the 80's we were pretty familiar with McDonald's. We used to save the packaging of our stuff from McDonald's and conduct a drive thru process. One of us would talk in the fan while the other would "drive" our box/ car.
Then the other side of the fan we'd hand out the food out the "window"
The fan totally made the drive through a success!
My friend and I used to set up shop, but I guess growing up in the 80's we were pretty familiar with McDonald's. We used to save the packaging of our stuff from McDonald's and conduct a drive thru process. One of us would talk in the fan while the other would "drive" our box/ car.
Then the other side of the fan we'd hand out the food out the "window"
The fan totally made the drive through a success!
Monday, January 18, 2010
Breast Cancer, more than meets the eye...
Isn't it interesting...
I ask myself sometimes how I got to where I am and where do I want to go from here. I've always wanted children and thought that someday I would have some of my own. A stage 4 breast cancer diagnosis changes that. The medications I take are proven to harm a developing child. If I went off the medications, the cancer would kill me with the increase of hormones of being pregnant. People say to me, well atleast you can adopt! Actually, I've looked into that option and it would be more difficult than some might think. You see, a stage 4 diagnosis means that life expectancy is not favorable past 5 years. In my case I think life expectancy is favorable, but the "red tape" if you will does not discriminate. U.S. adoption agencies will not allow stage 4-er's to adopt, which actually is in line with many other countries such as China, Guatemala, etc. Unfortunately, surrogacy laws are similar. MAYBE someday if I'm really looking into it and found a private surrogate of my own, it would be allowed.
You see, the biggest disapointment is that I feel as though I have so much to give and I'd be good at it. This is one reason I'm moving back to Pa. I want to be a bigger part of my nephew's life and have a positive influence on him. This is also a reason I'm passionate about my dogs because to me...they may be the only children I ever have.
Don't get me wrong, I'm lucky and fortunate. There are ladies out there that have a very poor prognosis and medicine hasn't caught up to their type of breast cancer just yet. I'm lucky that I have years ahead of me to make a difference. Heck, I might someday take a leap and foster children, but lets get through this move first!
I ask myself sometimes how I got to where I am and where do I want to go from here. I've always wanted children and thought that someday I would have some of my own. A stage 4 breast cancer diagnosis changes that. The medications I take are proven to harm a developing child. If I went off the medications, the cancer would kill me with the increase of hormones of being pregnant. People say to me, well atleast you can adopt! Actually, I've looked into that option and it would be more difficult than some might think. You see, a stage 4 diagnosis means that life expectancy is not favorable past 5 years. In my case I think life expectancy is favorable, but the "red tape" if you will does not discriminate. U.S. adoption agencies will not allow stage 4-er's to adopt, which actually is in line with many other countries such as China, Guatemala, etc. Unfortunately, surrogacy laws are similar. MAYBE someday if I'm really looking into it and found a private surrogate of my own, it would be allowed.
You see, the biggest disapointment is that I feel as though I have so much to give and I'd be good at it. This is one reason I'm moving back to Pa. I want to be a bigger part of my nephew's life and have a positive influence on him. This is also a reason I'm passionate about my dogs because to me...they may be the only children I ever have.
Don't get me wrong, I'm lucky and fortunate. There are ladies out there that have a very poor prognosis and medicine hasn't caught up to their type of breast cancer just yet. I'm lucky that I have years ahead of me to make a difference. Heck, I might someday take a leap and foster children, but lets get through this move first!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Rain and Motorcycles don't mix
So growing up, my parents were divorced since I was one year old. I really only knew my family life to be my step-father, my mom, and my dad. I don't remember it any other way and I feel fortunate to have had three parents to impact my life.
My father, he would take me anytime he possibly could eventhough I lived with my mom and step-father. We did all kinds of activities but one in particular was riding the motorcycle. Not just any motorcycle, but a Harley. I loved it. I loved feeling the wind in my face and being able to see all around me. I'd put my hand out and feel the wind against my hands. I remember when he'd start moving the harley or stop I'd head bang him ALL the time from sitting behind him. LOL. I wonder if part of the reason we rode it was to irritate my mother that hated it when he had me on it!
Well, this particular time we went to the park together. It was a beautiful partly sunny day out, around 80 degrees! I don't recall too much at the park except we went to the beach and just hung out for awhile. At least I'm pretty certain since for some reason we had towels with us on the motorcycle and it would be pretty odd to carry those if we didn't hit the beach. Anyhow, on our way home it started raining, pouring even! It felt like getting hit with millions of tiny needles! Dad pulled over and got out the towels from the little travel compartment, which helped since I had shorts and a short sleeve shirt on, but that rain, it still hurt as we drove. We stopped under a bridge finally, but we were both soaked and the stinging I remember stuck with me for awhile. wowsers!
My father, he would take me anytime he possibly could eventhough I lived with my mom and step-father. We did all kinds of activities but one in particular was riding the motorcycle. Not just any motorcycle, but a Harley. I loved it. I loved feeling the wind in my face and being able to see all around me. I'd put my hand out and feel the wind against my hands. I remember when he'd start moving the harley or stop I'd head bang him ALL the time from sitting behind him. LOL. I wonder if part of the reason we rode it was to irritate my mother that hated it when he had me on it!
Well, this particular time we went to the park together. It was a beautiful partly sunny day out, around 80 degrees! I don't recall too much at the park except we went to the beach and just hung out for awhile. At least I'm pretty certain since for some reason we had towels with us on the motorcycle and it would be pretty odd to carry those if we didn't hit the beach. Anyhow, on our way home it started raining, pouring even! It felt like getting hit with millions of tiny needles! Dad pulled over and got out the towels from the little travel compartment, which helped since I had shorts and a short sleeve shirt on, but that rain, it still hurt as we drove. We stopped under a bridge finally, but we were both soaked and the stinging I remember stuck with me for awhile. wowsers!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Candy grams
No, I was not a band geek per se, I was probably worse...I was in the color guard. I twirled flags and wooden rifles. We wore outfits inspired by a flaming homosexual. One year I recall I looked like a big purple trash bag with leggings. Another year we wore some sort of all black with bell bottoms and sequins. I should really find some photos. Our outfits were ridiculous!
Well, our school band was competitive. We would perform on friday nights at the football games, then again on Saturday at a band competition. Band competitions were held at highschools. In an attempt to raise money, the highschools would sell candy grams. Basically, someone would buy a candy bar and write a note on it of encouragement (from friends) and love (from family) and you would receive it after we competed. There were also flower grams I recall. I loved it. Every week it always made me feel good that my mom had sent me usually one of each at least.
Isn't it silly how something so simple can really make or break a girl's day? Seriously, you felt a little dissapointment and loss if you didn't receive one that day (which I can't ever remember happening). Oh, How I miss candy grams. What a novel concept!
Well, our school band was competitive. We would perform on friday nights at the football games, then again on Saturday at a band competition. Band competitions were held at highschools. In an attempt to raise money, the highschools would sell candy grams. Basically, someone would buy a candy bar and write a note on it of encouragement (from friends) and love (from family) and you would receive it after we competed. There were also flower grams I recall. I loved it. Every week it always made me feel good that my mom had sent me usually one of each at least.
Isn't it silly how something so simple can really make or break a girl's day? Seriously, you felt a little dissapointment and loss if you didn't receive one that day (which I can't ever remember happening). Oh, How I miss candy grams. What a novel concept!
Sunday, January 10, 2010
You have Cancer: the first time...
No one is prepared to hear those words. Cancer, it sneaks up on you out of nowhere, no side effects, not feeling ill, nothing...not until things are really, really bad anyhow. I've heard those words uttered twice in my life and both times took me by surprise and when you think of being told something of such importance...you don't envision it to be like it was told to me.
The first time:
I was 25 and had just gone to my regularly scheduled gynocological exam in January. My doctor felt a lump in my left breast at the 9 o'clock position. It was about 2 cm in size, but it's not like my breasts ever felt like pudding, they are lumpy in general. The doctor asked me how long that lump had been there and I shrugged it off like it was nothing and replied, "I think about July??" She said it would be best to have an ultrasound done in the event that it's cancer eventhough it's probably just a fibroadenoma, which is a more common benign tumor. This statement scared the crap out of me and I remember calling my mother and crying to her telling her what the doctor said to me. My mom reassured me and said the doctor is just taking precautions and she stated how fibrous breasts ran in our family and well, we have no history of breast cancer in our family.
There was no hurry for the ultrasound because it wasn't cancer, right? The radiology place got me an appointment in a month. I went in for this appointment to have an ultrasound done and there was definitly a mass there. They wanted a better picture of it, so they took a mammogram of it. That just confirmed that there was a tumor there, but it was still believed based on my age and family history lacking breast cancer that it was a benign tumor. The location of the tumor was also indicative that it was not cancerous. This is not how breast cancer typically presents itself. We decide to see a surgeon and have a biopsy done just to confirm.
Again, it's most likely benign, so no hurry to get in to see the surgeon. It's not me that is waiting, it's the medical offices that wave it off as if it's not important. It's another month before the surgeon can have a consultation with me, so the middle of february and I meet with him. He gives me my options and I decide that since it's most likely benign based on the information all the medical personnel have given me to do an ultrasound guided needle biopsy of the tumor. The surgery is scheduled in 2 weeks.
I go in for the surgery (if you can even call it that). They give me just local anesthetic and I get to watch the ultrasound on the screen, coolness! I walk out of there myself with only two tiny holes in my breast. The surgeon again states that the tissue he has removed looks like that of a benign tumor. Seriously, it looks like I was bitten by a vampire. No follow up consultation is scheduled...afterall, it's benign, right?
3 weeks pass by because at the lab, there are usually two pathologists, but one was on vacation. The process on a cancer diagnosis is that when one pathologist finds it a positive diagnosis that it goes in the pile of cases for the other pathologist to look at and confirm. And so it was found, two independent opinions that indeed the sample was invasive ductal carcinoma. My surgeon gets the word and must pass this data on to me, quickly.
He contacts me at work, where I'm a dental hygienist and I see patients all day long. All I remember from that conversation was the word cancer and come in thursday to discuss options. I hung up the phone and started crying and my coworkers gathered and hugged me. I told them what I THOUGHT I heard, but was I sure? Maybe he said Precancerous. I was unsure. I found out 2 days later that it was indeed cancer and surgery was to take place in 2 weeks and within those 2 weeks I met a counselor, a medical oncologist (Dr. Lee), and a radiation oncologist (Dr. Cheston). What a whirlwind.
The first time:
I was 25 and had just gone to my regularly scheduled gynocological exam in January. My doctor felt a lump in my left breast at the 9 o'clock position. It was about 2 cm in size, but it's not like my breasts ever felt like pudding, they are lumpy in general. The doctor asked me how long that lump had been there and I shrugged it off like it was nothing and replied, "I think about July??" She said it would be best to have an ultrasound done in the event that it's cancer eventhough it's probably just a fibroadenoma, which is a more common benign tumor. This statement scared the crap out of me and I remember calling my mother and crying to her telling her what the doctor said to me. My mom reassured me and said the doctor is just taking precautions and she stated how fibrous breasts ran in our family and well, we have no history of breast cancer in our family.
There was no hurry for the ultrasound because it wasn't cancer, right? The radiology place got me an appointment in a month. I went in for this appointment to have an ultrasound done and there was definitly a mass there. They wanted a better picture of it, so they took a mammogram of it. That just confirmed that there was a tumor there, but it was still believed based on my age and family history lacking breast cancer that it was a benign tumor. The location of the tumor was also indicative that it was not cancerous. This is not how breast cancer typically presents itself. We decide to see a surgeon and have a biopsy done just to confirm.
Again, it's most likely benign, so no hurry to get in to see the surgeon. It's not me that is waiting, it's the medical offices that wave it off as if it's not important. It's another month before the surgeon can have a consultation with me, so the middle of february and I meet with him. He gives me my options and I decide that since it's most likely benign based on the information all the medical personnel have given me to do an ultrasound guided needle biopsy of the tumor. The surgery is scheduled in 2 weeks.
I go in for the surgery (if you can even call it that). They give me just local anesthetic and I get to watch the ultrasound on the screen, coolness! I walk out of there myself with only two tiny holes in my breast. The surgeon again states that the tissue he has removed looks like that of a benign tumor. Seriously, it looks like I was bitten by a vampire. No follow up consultation is scheduled...afterall, it's benign, right?
3 weeks pass by because at the lab, there are usually two pathologists, but one was on vacation. The process on a cancer diagnosis is that when one pathologist finds it a positive diagnosis that it goes in the pile of cases for the other pathologist to look at and confirm. And so it was found, two independent opinions that indeed the sample was invasive ductal carcinoma. My surgeon gets the word and must pass this data on to me, quickly.
He contacts me at work, where I'm a dental hygienist and I see patients all day long. All I remember from that conversation was the word cancer and come in thursday to discuss options. I hung up the phone and started crying and my coworkers gathered and hugged me. I told them what I THOUGHT I heard, but was I sure? Maybe he said Precancerous. I was unsure. I found out 2 days later that it was indeed cancer and surgery was to take place in 2 weeks and within those 2 weeks I met a counselor, a medical oncologist (Dr. Lee), and a radiation oncologist (Dr. Cheston). What a whirlwind.
Wallpaper, how do I loath thee?!
So, since I'm getting ready to uproot my life and move back home to PA. I need to get my current house prepared to sell. It's a buyers market currently. That's good and bad. It's bad that my house needs to be immaculate prior to showing it and needs to be available for a showing at a moments notice. It needs to be "move in" ready. That means fresh paint, removal of wallpaper, new sockets and covers, and all those little bells and whistles. My friends Stacy and Justin were so kind as to come over and help remove wallpaper and man...Justin is a working fool!
Here's the ridiculous process:
use the "paper tiger" that puts tiny holes in the wallpaper
spray with Dif Gel
use the razor blade scraper and remove layer 1 of wallpaper
spray with Dif gel
use razor blade scraper and remove layer 2 of wallpaper
spray with Dif gel
use plastic putty scraper and remove layer of glue.
Yeah, so it's not like it's once and done, it's basically doing the same thing THREE times. It's rather redundant and time consuming. Today, working alone however, I did get to quietly think and sort through my random thoughts. It was nice and peaceful, but I still wish it were done. It's only about 3/4 done. I have 2 obstacles that I need man muscles for too, I was unable to remove the medicine cabinet myself and behind the toilet...they will just have to wait for now.
Here's the ridiculous process:
use the "paper tiger" that puts tiny holes in the wallpaper
spray with Dif Gel
use the razor blade scraper and remove layer 1 of wallpaper
spray with Dif gel
use razor blade scraper and remove layer 2 of wallpaper
spray with Dif gel
use plastic putty scraper and remove layer of glue.
Yeah, so it's not like it's once and done, it's basically doing the same thing THREE times. It's rather redundant and time consuming. Today, working alone however, I did get to quietly think and sort through my random thoughts. It was nice and peaceful, but I still wish it were done. It's only about 3/4 done. I have 2 obstacles that I need man muscles for too, I was unable to remove the medicine cabinet myself and behind the toilet...they will just have to wait for now.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Notice
Yesterday I put in notice at work. It wasn't easy because my work has been so good to me this past year while I've been going through such a tough time with the cancer and all.
They threw a fundraiser very early on on very short notice, which the funds from that carried my bill for six months.
My boss was incredibly understanding with the amount of time I needed off and giving that to me and arranging other coverage.
The other employees all try to make my life easier any way they could.
It's not easy to leave, but I really feel it is time to move back home and be with my family and the stars are aligning easily to make it happen. I'm excited and sad, but mostly excited.
They threw a fundraiser very early on on very short notice, which the funds from that carried my bill for six months.
My boss was incredibly understanding with the amount of time I needed off and giving that to me and arranging other coverage.
The other employees all try to make my life easier any way they could.
It's not easy to leave, but I really feel it is time to move back home and be with my family and the stars are aligning easily to make it happen. I'm excited and sad, but mostly excited.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Everything Happens For a Reason, if you say so
I will never understand why bad things happen to good people.
Why was a Toddler's life suddenly taken from one of the most solid, caring, loving families I have ever known?
His name was Jacob. He had gastric reflux as an infant, but he was such a happy baby. His parents and sisters doted on him. Jacob was laid back and smiled all the time. He was a sweet boy. He loved affection and being held, but didn't require it. Poor boy was allergic to my dogs and would get little hives at my house. I had to be careful at his house because I recall one time, when I was babysitting his sisters wanted peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. I fixed the girls lunch first, but Jacob snuck up to the kitchen table while I was making his lunch and went to take a bite out of his sister's sandwich. NO! He put it down and all was ok, but you see he was allergic to peanuts too.
The fateful day, Jacob woke up like any ordinary day. He had only been 2 a few weeks and on this particular day he started having trouble breathing. It got to a point that his mother took him to the Pediatrician, but Jacob was getting worse very quickly. They had no idea what was wrong other than he was unable to breath. The Pediatrician's office had to call the ambulance and have the little one taken to the hospital and Jacob passed away less than 3 hours later without really knowing what happened to him. It happened so fast, so unexpected of this otherwise healthy boy. Upon autopsy it was revealed that his intestines had twisted and burst and he died of sepsis. So sad. so undeserving. Why? I will never understand.
Why was a Toddler's life suddenly taken from one of the most solid, caring, loving families I have ever known?
His name was Jacob. He had gastric reflux as an infant, but he was such a happy baby. His parents and sisters doted on him. Jacob was laid back and smiled all the time. He was a sweet boy. He loved affection and being held, but didn't require it. Poor boy was allergic to my dogs and would get little hives at my house. I had to be careful at his house because I recall one time, when I was babysitting his sisters wanted peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. I fixed the girls lunch first, but Jacob snuck up to the kitchen table while I was making his lunch and went to take a bite out of his sister's sandwich. NO! He put it down and all was ok, but you see he was allergic to peanuts too.
The fateful day, Jacob woke up like any ordinary day. He had only been 2 a few weeks and on this particular day he started having trouble breathing. It got to a point that his mother took him to the Pediatrician, but Jacob was getting worse very quickly. They had no idea what was wrong other than he was unable to breath. The Pediatrician's office had to call the ambulance and have the little one taken to the hospital and Jacob passed away less than 3 hours later without really knowing what happened to him. It happened so fast, so unexpected of this otherwise healthy boy. Upon autopsy it was revealed that his intestines had twisted and burst and he died of sepsis. So sad. so undeserving. Why? I will never understand.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Call it what you will...
The past four days I have had limited internet or computer access because the power cord to my laptop got kinked and developed a short in it. I'm pretty certain I was not careful with it and sat on it numerous times. Oops! Thankfully I noticed it going out and ordered a new one off ebay last week. Whew, I'm connected again! You should have seen me though, pathetic. I tried to splice the wire together without the crushed part in the wire. I'm surprised i didn't burn my house down or something stupid like that. I used packing tape to tape the two end together because I thought I had electrical tape in my tool box, but alas things like that are never where you thought they were when you need them! Then the splicing being taped didn't work, so I would hold the two ends together while the laptop was on my lap. Talk about desperate, right? It had to be together JUST RIGHT too. It was by no means easy. It was definitly one of those times I just have to laugh at myself. I'd even laugh while I was doing it, but I think I have a problem, an addiction if you will. I feel the need to be connected. I like to think I am interested in my friends lives, but I'm relatively sure at one time before Facebook existed this self proclaimed "interest" would be considered being nosey. Bah, a character flaw...I can live with it.
signing off,
signing off,
Friday, January 1, 2010
Mistakes
I was unfair in my former post. In truth, I recently lost my best friend and while he made mistakes over the past year, so did I. We all make mistakes. It's what we do with those mistakes in the future with out lives.
the boy of 2009, made mistakes, but was also there for me. This is why we dated. He was affectionate, intelligent, fun, interesting, caring, sweet. And that is to just name a few of his traits. When I found out I had cancer, he was there. He was like a pillar of strength and comforted me. He let me know that no matter what happened, he wasn't going anywhere. That was only after dating two months. That's pretty admirable...I still feel that way today. He cooked nearly every day, he was an awesome cook and a great companion. We spent nearly every evening together exercising, having dinner, then watching some tv or going out for a drink or check out a new place. we had fun, we had a lot of good times and only a few bad ones. I thought it would make me feel better to talk poorly about him, but it didn't. In fact, it was pretty immature and elementary. For all that he did bring to my life, he does NOT deserve that and he was certainly my best friend for good reason.
I remember going to downtown Ellicott City for the day and eating chocolate covered bacon. We went to see the Washington Nationals play and had ice cream, hot dogs, and beer. Yum! We went to San Diego for the Sun, the Sand, the zoo, and beer and wine tours! The Boy, he was patient and kind since I was unable to do a lot of activities, was chubby from the steriods, and tired easily. We went to the beach with my family and had a blast in Ocean City at the hole in the wall bars. Dogfish head restaurant was one stop after the gaithersburg festival. At night, when I'd be crying at bedtime sad and afraid that treatment may not work, he was there. He never allowed me to have negative thoughts or give up. He went to the Dr. with me and went to treatment with me too. I was his navigater while he drove. We were a team...here, Annapolis, Baltimore, Washington D.C. We were a great team. He wanted to care for me and did.
He is a hero and given a large sacrifice being in the military for a career. He does not deserve to be bad mouthed...he deserves better. I sincerly hope he finds happiness in life, he deserves to. I want him to.
the boy of 2009, made mistakes, but was also there for me. This is why we dated. He was affectionate, intelligent, fun, interesting, caring, sweet. And that is to just name a few of his traits. When I found out I had cancer, he was there. He was like a pillar of strength and comforted me. He let me know that no matter what happened, he wasn't going anywhere. That was only after dating two months. That's pretty admirable...I still feel that way today. He cooked nearly every day, he was an awesome cook and a great companion. We spent nearly every evening together exercising, having dinner, then watching some tv or going out for a drink or check out a new place. we had fun, we had a lot of good times and only a few bad ones. I thought it would make me feel better to talk poorly about him, but it didn't. In fact, it was pretty immature and elementary. For all that he did bring to my life, he does NOT deserve that and he was certainly my best friend for good reason.
I remember going to downtown Ellicott City for the day and eating chocolate covered bacon. We went to see the Washington Nationals play and had ice cream, hot dogs, and beer. Yum! We went to San Diego for the Sun, the Sand, the zoo, and beer and wine tours! The Boy, he was patient and kind since I was unable to do a lot of activities, was chubby from the steriods, and tired easily. We went to the beach with my family and had a blast in Ocean City at the hole in the wall bars. Dogfish head restaurant was one stop after the gaithersburg festival. At night, when I'd be crying at bedtime sad and afraid that treatment may not work, he was there. He never allowed me to have negative thoughts or give up. He went to the Dr. with me and went to treatment with me too. I was his navigater while he drove. We were a team...here, Annapolis, Baltimore, Washington D.C. We were a great team. He wanted to care for me and did.
He is a hero and given a large sacrifice being in the military for a career. He does not deserve to be bad mouthed...he deserves better. I sincerly hope he finds happiness in life, he deserves to. I want him to.
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