Jeez, I should really be shot for waiting this long. I don't even know what's kept me from posting. In a rut much??
So I get done with dealing with Dad drama and back to what I love most...dealing with me, self absorbed human that I am, and yet I don't feel I have much to share.
I had a stupid, ridiculous fight with Mrs. Kravits which keeps a ton of drama out of the posts (and part of the reason for our fight) so I haven't been walking much of late. Although after the death of her brother (and my neighbor) we found a way to reconcile since I couldn't exactly be the cold hearted bitch I sometime dream of being during that crisis. I really do empathize with her...though her question of why her brother died boggles the imagination...I mean really?? He was 6'4" weighing 350 lbs if he weighed an ounce. He was diabetic and paranoid schizophrenic and unwilling to take meds for either condition. He drank an 18 pack a day and hadn't had a home cooked meal unless I made it in the last five years...which means fast food 98% if the time, and she wonders why he died???
In the last month I know 4 people who have died. And again, I'm trying to understand why I'm a little depressed. It's coming upon winter time and the weather is not helping. I woke up on Sunday to freezing weather and unable to rationalize getting out of bed to get to church, which is exactly what I should have done to end the blues that consumed me. Thank God I finally woke up from my lazitude and called my friend Sharon to express my gloominess - she too was feeling my blues and agreed to meet me for drinks and dinner. Little did either of us know her uncle would be one of the four dead folk I would be grieving for.
So yesterday we had a good Irish wake for her uncle, talking about family and just what constitutes that name. What we determined was that blood kin had little to do with it. Who we chose in our life was much more important. I mean, I love my parents and my siblings...I can get all emo about their demise when I think about it - but in the last several years, the people I talk to every day are just as much as my family as those who share my DNA.
What I know is that Ron from Texas is my life partner. He's not my husband in any traditional sense...but I can't imagine my life without him. We speak 3-4 times a day about absolutely nothing. We argue, we get pissy, we get bored with the conversations and we laugh together like couples who've been married for years. Who else am I going to tell that I've got a boil on my butt that hurts like hell? He's my guy. And I'm grateful to have him.
Sharon is my friend I met at church. She couldn't be more opposite from me if I tried. She's reserved, thin, detailed, and politically indifferent. On the other hand, she too is divorced, relationship-ly agnostic, without child, and my age-ish. She understands what it means to be too isolated for ones onwn good. I can call to tell her I'm blue when it makes no sense to feel that way.
Because the reality of where I am now is that I am blue. I've lost the equivalent of a seven year-old child (75 lbs) and nothing really has changed. I still have to shop at the 'fat' stores...even though I feel sexier/skinnier/thinner than I am. I thought I would be excited about pretty bras, but interestingly I'm much more interested in wearing high-heels. I thought I'd buy new clothes...but can't seem to rationalize spending the money on something I'd only wear for a few weeks. And the on-line dating thing is too depressing to even discuss. If you're not 35, skinny, never smoked and not interested in men who look like models or serial killers...you're out of luck.
So that's what I've been dealing with. sorry it's not more up beat and peppy. I just decided some time ago that I needed to be honest about where I am - for better or worse.
I am excited that I'll finally get to CES (consumer electronics show) this January (my birthday) and I do know my life is 93% better than most....I'm just saying that there's still a long way to go and some days are harder than others. None of which compares to my friends who've lost their wife, brother, mother or uncle. In light of all that...I'm just a sorry assed whiner.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
I am NO DillyDally...Must Read to the end to get this...
To my neglected followers...
Your very neglectful friend here. It's been a crazy couple of months.
So far, I've lost 65 pounds and am feeling so much healthier, positive, and emotionally grounded. I still have some ups and downs. I'm still human. The last week I think I've been a little hormonal. A little blue. But I think some PMS, cooler weather, and realizing I'm only half-way there were/are contributing factors :) I know in my head it's all irrational. I mean really...I'm HALFWAY there!! In what? Nine months? The bulk of which has occurred in the last four? So yeah, it's just the old impatience kicking in. I'm sure it will happen again. But I'm trying to be patient about my impatience :)
So, part of the long lapse in writing is just recovering from dealing with my folks. As you may or may not know...my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer, which led to the discovery of some kidney cancer too. Ironically, the prostate cancer seemed like 'no big deal' to me - have a surgery, it's pretty much done. The kidney cancer freaked the hell out of me. Instead, the doc was more concerned about the prostate and wanted immediate surgery. Later on the kidney...only part of the left one at that.
So I went home to Austin a few weeks ago to tend to Mom and Dad just before his first surgery and for a couple of weeks after. I have to tell you, taking care of old people sucks. Not only do you realize they are inching closer and closer to being dead...but it's officially your turn to take care of them instead of the other way around.
So Dad's surgery went swimmingly. In on a Tuesday and on Wednesday he's sitting up, responding to visitors. Flirting with the nurses. The doc says he can go home. I tell everyone I think this is a horrible idea, that one more day in the hospital will do everyone good. I'm so outvoted. So we pack him up like a crate of china and take him home with a bag of pills and a colostomy bag.
My sister Rebel has generously agreed to stay an extra night at the house with me as she's really too exhausted to drive two hours to her home anyway. Sometime in the middle of the night I hear her talking, a lot of action in the hallway and I'm desperately trying to ignore it. Until finally she knocks on my door and says "Get up Cameron, I think we need to take Dad back to the hospital."
I fumble around for a bra and a pair of shorts and get dressed. Mind blank, numb with sleep. I step into the hallway, where she's sitting with her back up against the wall. I look at her with eyes like 'ok, what happened' and she said "Ummm, you might want to brace yourself before going in there. Dad apparently decided to take out his catheter."
Not fully comprehending the magnitude of that decision, I opened their bedroom door. Jesus! It's like a freaking crime scene. An old towel is draped on the floor, barely concealing the blood beneath it. Dad's lain out in the bed, fully dressed, the coil of hose to his catheter neatly rolled on his bedside table. My next look at my sister clearly conveys "WTF!!!"
She shakes her head and says "He decided he needed to pee and forgot why all that stuff was in the way...so he just pulled. I've already left a voice mail for the doctor. I'm waiting for his reply."
"What do you mean waiting for a reply?" I ask incredulously. "We just need to freaking call EMS and take him back to the ER!" At this point I just see blood and imagine all the horrible things everyone is thinking when they imagine a dilated balloon stitched into the urethra of a man's ding-a-ling being unimaginably removed manually without anesthesia!
This is where I'm very grateful to have a clinical, non-hysterical sister. She calmly explains she would rather know what the doctor would like to do before subjecting him to another round of emergency surgery with a team unfamiliar with my father and the best thing we can do is wait for him to call back. And maybe clean him up in the meantime.
This is where I am glad I can compartmentalize things. OK, she's given me an action. I can do that action. Actually, I leave she and Mom to do the Dad cleaning thing. I was a maid. I clean things, not people! So that's what I set off to do. I get the 409 and some rags and just start hosing down the bathroom. It's like an episode of "Bundy Gone Wild" in there. On the john, on the tub, in the tub, on the walls, on the door, just a slaughterhouse. Mom and Rebel are in the room just replaying all the horrible thoughts I've pushed out of my head until I finally say "Shut it! I can't do THIS and think about it at the same time. Uh uh. Nope. Not gonna do it. Just shshhh." Mercifully, they acquiesce and I finish my job about the time the doc calls back. He said we should just wait until his office opens at 8am and he'll try to fix the problem himself.
Well hell, it's 4am at this point and clearly I"m wide awake. Rebel somehow manages to shuffle off back to bed and I just go downstairs in stunned silence. I tidy up the kitchen, I make a pot of coffee, I start the laundry. I mean what else can I do? I'm afraid to close my eyes!
Dawn finally arrives and I get Rebel up. We do take Dad back to the doc. The doc patches him right back up and we can finally go home again to start over. That's day one.
Rebel and Mom are, needless to say, terrified Dad will do this again. I'm fairly certain no man (no matter what his drug infused mind might think) will EVER do that twice. But they somehow convince me that for safety's sake we need to tie my father to the bed. Seriously. I don't mean like a straight jacket or anything. But I tie an ace bandage around one rung of the headboard and the other end around his arm. Their logic is that he would have to wake up enough to untie himself and hence recall why he doesn't need to bother. Catheter in place and all. Convinced Dad is safely ensconced, Rebel finally says she needs to go home.
At 2am, I hear my father call for my assistance. He'd like me to empty the collection bag. No problem, it's a simple lever mechanism that I just flip while his ankle is resting on the toilet. As I'm tucking him back into bed, he comments "Your damn mother tied me to the bed!" I don't have the heart, will, courage...to remind him I was the guilty party there. I secretly am thrilled I am not the bad guy. My mother is. So I don't re-tie him. I just slink back to my room praying it will all be fine.
But then I start to worry. What if I'm wrong? What if he does forget again? No one would forgive me and my father will have to live with a bag attached to him for the rest of his life. So I do what I think is the next reasonable thing...I simply lock the bathroom doors. The one in their room and the one in the hall. We're all upstairs anyway. If he can't get into the bathroom I think...he can't try to use the toilet. If he can't use the toilet, he'll wonder why. If he wonders why...well, he'll remember. Sound logic. Really.
Now what I have failed to mention is that my mother has been having a few "digestive issues" herself these last few days. I think I'm being delicately clear here, right? In my aforementioned reasoning...this little dilemma was not part of my equation.
So...now it's 4am and I'm alarmingly woken to the sound of a large bowling ball being whacked around my parents bedroom. Thunking around the walls like a damn pinball machine. Then I hear the shrill cry of a woman in panick. "CAMERON!!! CAMERON!! (huff, squeak, wimper...) WHY ARE ALL THE BATHROOMS LOCKED??? (thunk, thud, thud)
My eyes fly open. I realize the problem. Realize the urgency. Kinda realize the funny. I grab a penny and fly into the hallway and unlock that bathroom door with a simple twist in the knob. "Here! Here! This one's open!" I see my mother hobbling across the room just as fast as her waddling body will allow. I turn on my heel as she stumbles onto the toilet and thunks her ass down. I crawl back into the comfort of my bed and pretend I'm not laughing inside. I hear her whimpering just a few feet away as she gratefully relieves herself of her own emergency. (Wimper, wimper, sigh, mew) "Huh, huh (pause) a small squeak...silence." then a small sad voice in the dark..."I...I...I... HAD... TO... PEE... IN...THE... LITTER BOX!"
That was day two.
If I don't deserve an opportunity to recover from THAT visual...I don't deserve anything.
The rest of the time was just the usual catering to old people stuff. Fetching and carrying. Emptying the catheter bag. Cooking, shopping, errand running. Rolling my eyes. Thinking "Dear God...who will ever do this for me?"
Gratefully meeting up with a friend or two for a much needed drink...or three. And coming home.
Since then, I've been catching up at work and church. Lots of activities happening on both fronts there. Haven't really seen any new movies other than the chick-flick "The Help"...which is actually just so great, that boys should see it too.
Read a great trilogy written for young adults that futuristic/sci-fi about government conformity and Self. Called The Hunger Games. Amazing.
And...And...decided to join match.com two days ago. Glad I started early 'cause there a WHOLE lot of Krazy there be. Wack-a-doodles galore! Just for giggles...here's my favorite two emails I've received so far...
A LONELY SEEKING A LOVE LIFE...
Without being a stereotype, I’m looking for a woman to make me feel like the prince I have always known myself to be, I know I am deep down inside. Will you ride to meet me in your shining armor, on your noble steed? I’m the Beatles biggest fan, and I’m feeling lonesome tonight. I want someone to love me tender, and to be my Rose of Sharon. If this describes you, then I’m sure I’ll discover that I can’t help falling in love with you. But if this isn’t you, and you’re all shook up, or a devil in disguise, or even if you want to step on my blue suede shoes, then please don’t send me to the heartbreak hotel.
***What I want to know is if he's the biggest Beatles fan...why does he keep referencing Elvis??? Jesus, boo, it’s ELVIS, not Paul Muh-freakin’-Cartney! OMG***
#2:
Hello
I was opportuned to read/see your profile and i must say that what i saw & read was quite fascinating & interesting.U strick me as a divine prettyness of endless chime & all that is fair & lovely meets in your aspects.I am interested in knowing/meeting U.B4 u get scared away, i am real, & i am no dillydally. It is a big step of courage 4 me to send this message to you hoping that what i seek for is the same that u seek 4.If u deemed it.waiting to hear back from you again soon..will like you to get back to me with your yahoo email same as my yahoo messenger IM...waiting to hear back from you again soon.
Kiss And Hugs
Mike
***Seriously? Enough said!***
Kiss and Hugs,
Cam
Your very neglectful friend here. It's been a crazy couple of months.
So far, I've lost 65 pounds and am feeling so much healthier, positive, and emotionally grounded. I still have some ups and downs. I'm still human. The last week I think I've been a little hormonal. A little blue. But I think some PMS, cooler weather, and realizing I'm only half-way there were/are contributing factors :) I know in my head it's all irrational. I mean really...I'm HALFWAY there!! In what? Nine months? The bulk of which has occurred in the last four? So yeah, it's just the old impatience kicking in. I'm sure it will happen again. But I'm trying to be patient about my impatience :)
So, part of the long lapse in writing is just recovering from dealing with my folks. As you may or may not know...my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer, which led to the discovery of some kidney cancer too. Ironically, the prostate cancer seemed like 'no big deal' to me - have a surgery, it's pretty much done. The kidney cancer freaked the hell out of me. Instead, the doc was more concerned about the prostate and wanted immediate surgery. Later on the kidney...only part of the left one at that.
So I went home to Austin a few weeks ago to tend to Mom and Dad just before his first surgery and for a couple of weeks after. I have to tell you, taking care of old people sucks. Not only do you realize they are inching closer and closer to being dead...but it's officially your turn to take care of them instead of the other way around.
So Dad's surgery went swimmingly. In on a Tuesday and on Wednesday he's sitting up, responding to visitors. Flirting with the nurses. The doc says he can go home. I tell everyone I think this is a horrible idea, that one more day in the hospital will do everyone good. I'm so outvoted. So we pack him up like a crate of china and take him home with a bag of pills and a colostomy bag.
My sister Rebel has generously agreed to stay an extra night at the house with me as she's really too exhausted to drive two hours to her home anyway. Sometime in the middle of the night I hear her talking, a lot of action in the hallway and I'm desperately trying to ignore it. Until finally she knocks on my door and says "Get up Cameron, I think we need to take Dad back to the hospital."
I fumble around for a bra and a pair of shorts and get dressed. Mind blank, numb with sleep. I step into the hallway, where she's sitting with her back up against the wall. I look at her with eyes like 'ok, what happened' and she said "Ummm, you might want to brace yourself before going in there. Dad apparently decided to take out his catheter."
Not fully comprehending the magnitude of that decision, I opened their bedroom door. Jesus! It's like a freaking crime scene. An old towel is draped on the floor, barely concealing the blood beneath it. Dad's lain out in the bed, fully dressed, the coil of hose to his catheter neatly rolled on his bedside table. My next look at my sister clearly conveys "WTF!!!"
She shakes her head and says "He decided he needed to pee and forgot why all that stuff was in the way...so he just pulled. I've already left a voice mail for the doctor. I'm waiting for his reply."
"What do you mean waiting for a reply?" I ask incredulously. "We just need to freaking call EMS and take him back to the ER!" At this point I just see blood and imagine all the horrible things everyone is thinking when they imagine a dilated balloon stitched into the urethra of a man's ding-a-ling being unimaginably removed manually without anesthesia!
This is where I'm very grateful to have a clinical, non-hysterical sister. She calmly explains she would rather know what the doctor would like to do before subjecting him to another round of emergency surgery with a team unfamiliar with my father and the best thing we can do is wait for him to call back. And maybe clean him up in the meantime.
This is where I am glad I can compartmentalize things. OK, she's given me an action. I can do that action. Actually, I leave she and Mom to do the Dad cleaning thing. I was a maid. I clean things, not people! So that's what I set off to do. I get the 409 and some rags and just start hosing down the bathroom. It's like an episode of "Bundy Gone Wild" in there. On the john, on the tub, in the tub, on the walls, on the door, just a slaughterhouse. Mom and Rebel are in the room just replaying all the horrible thoughts I've pushed out of my head until I finally say "Shut it! I can't do THIS and think about it at the same time. Uh uh. Nope. Not gonna do it. Just shshhh." Mercifully, they acquiesce and I finish my job about the time the doc calls back. He said we should just wait until his office opens at 8am and he'll try to fix the problem himself.
Well hell, it's 4am at this point and clearly I"m wide awake. Rebel somehow manages to shuffle off back to bed and I just go downstairs in stunned silence. I tidy up the kitchen, I make a pot of coffee, I start the laundry. I mean what else can I do? I'm afraid to close my eyes!
Dawn finally arrives and I get Rebel up. We do take Dad back to the doc. The doc patches him right back up and we can finally go home again to start over. That's day one.
Rebel and Mom are, needless to say, terrified Dad will do this again. I'm fairly certain no man (no matter what his drug infused mind might think) will EVER do that twice. But they somehow convince me that for safety's sake we need to tie my father to the bed. Seriously. I don't mean like a straight jacket or anything. But I tie an ace bandage around one rung of the headboard and the other end around his arm. Their logic is that he would have to wake up enough to untie himself and hence recall why he doesn't need to bother. Catheter in place and all. Convinced Dad is safely ensconced, Rebel finally says she needs to go home.
At 2am, I hear my father call for my assistance. He'd like me to empty the collection bag. No problem, it's a simple lever mechanism that I just flip while his ankle is resting on the toilet. As I'm tucking him back into bed, he comments "Your damn mother tied me to the bed!" I don't have the heart, will, courage...to remind him I was the guilty party there. I secretly am thrilled I am not the bad guy. My mother is. So I don't re-tie him. I just slink back to my room praying it will all be fine.
But then I start to worry. What if I'm wrong? What if he does forget again? No one would forgive me and my father will have to live with a bag attached to him for the rest of his life. So I do what I think is the next reasonable thing...I simply lock the bathroom doors. The one in their room and the one in the hall. We're all upstairs anyway. If he can't get into the bathroom I think...he can't try to use the toilet. If he can't use the toilet, he'll wonder why. If he wonders why...well, he'll remember. Sound logic. Really.
Now what I have failed to mention is that my mother has been having a few "digestive issues" herself these last few days. I think I'm being delicately clear here, right? In my aforementioned reasoning...this little dilemma was not part of my equation.
So...now it's 4am and I'm alarmingly woken to the sound of a large bowling ball being whacked around my parents bedroom. Thunking around the walls like a damn pinball machine. Then I hear the shrill cry of a woman in panick. "CAMERON!!! CAMERON!! (huff, squeak, wimper...) WHY ARE ALL THE BATHROOMS LOCKED??? (thunk, thud, thud)
My eyes fly open. I realize the problem. Realize the urgency. Kinda realize the funny. I grab a penny and fly into the hallway and unlock that bathroom door with a simple twist in the knob. "Here! Here! This one's open!" I see my mother hobbling across the room just as fast as her waddling body will allow. I turn on my heel as she stumbles onto the toilet and thunks her ass down. I crawl back into the comfort of my bed and pretend I'm not laughing inside. I hear her whimpering just a few feet away as she gratefully relieves herself of her own emergency. (Wimper, wimper, sigh, mew) "Huh, huh (pause) a small squeak...silence." then a small sad voice in the dark..."I...I...I... HAD... TO... PEE... IN...THE... LITTER BOX!"
That was day two.
If I don't deserve an opportunity to recover from THAT visual...I don't deserve anything.
The rest of the time was just the usual catering to old people stuff. Fetching and carrying. Emptying the catheter bag. Cooking, shopping, errand running. Rolling my eyes. Thinking "Dear God...who will ever do this for me?"
Gratefully meeting up with a friend or two for a much needed drink...or three. And coming home.
Since then, I've been catching up at work and church. Lots of activities happening on both fronts there. Haven't really seen any new movies other than the chick-flick "The Help"...which is actually just so great, that boys should see it too.
Read a great trilogy written for young adults that futuristic/sci-fi about government conformity and Self. Called The Hunger Games. Amazing.
And...And...decided to join match.com two days ago. Glad I started early 'cause there a WHOLE lot of Krazy there be. Wack-a-doodles galore! Just for giggles...here's my favorite two emails I've received so far...
A LONELY SEEKING A LOVE LIFE...
Without being a stereotype, I’m looking for a woman to make me feel like the prince I have always known myself to be, I know I am deep down inside. Will you ride to meet me in your shining armor, on your noble steed? I’m the Beatles biggest fan, and I’m feeling lonesome tonight. I want someone to love me tender, and to be my Rose of Sharon. If this describes you, then I’m sure I’ll discover that I can’t help falling in love with you. But if this isn’t you, and you’re all shook up, or a devil in disguise, or even if you want to step on my blue suede shoes, then please don’t send me to the heartbreak hotel.
***What I want to know is if he's the biggest Beatles fan...why does he keep referencing Elvis??? Jesus, boo, it’s ELVIS, not Paul Muh-freakin’-Cartney! OMG***
#2:
Hello
I was opportuned to read/see your profile and i must say that what i saw & read was quite fascinating & interesting.U strick me as a divine prettyness of endless chime & all that is fair & lovely meets in your aspects.I am interested in knowing/meeting U.B4 u get scared away, i am real, & i am no dillydally. It is a big step of courage 4 me to send this message to you hoping that what i seek for is the same that u seek 4.If u deemed it.waiting to hear back from you again soon..will like you to get back to me with your yahoo email same as my yahoo messenger IM...waiting to hear back from you again soon.
Kiss And Hugs
Mike
***Seriously? Enough said!***
Kiss and Hugs,
Cam
Saturday, September 10, 2011
The Last Ten Years...
I'll be the first to admit I'm avoiding the news surrounding the 10th anniversary of 9/11. On MSNBC there seems to be unending loop of George Bush looking stupid and/or rationalizing why we went into Iraq. Both of which seem unfair. I'm not saying there's not a debate to be had about whether we should or should not have gone into Iraq while we were in the middle of avenging ourselves in Afghanistan...but I think it's a lot more complicated than what the press seems intent on portraying today.
What I do know is that I'm the only one I know who has read every UN Treaty on Iraq and there isn't a single country that didn't believe that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction. And every sanction that was imparted was ignored. I am also convinced that whatever weapons might have existed were removed, destroyed or buried before we ever entered that country and we knew it before Colin Powell stepped foot on the stage at the UN - leaving me to believe that George Bush threw Colin Powell under the bus for an invasion, occupation and war that could have been rationalized under much better circumstances. Who among us would have denied our troops the authorization to enter and overthrow a dictator that was systematically killing its own people no differently than Hitler did in the 40's? Who here isn't justifying Obama's insurgence into Libya for the same reason? Who here doesn't think we should have done more in Somalia? Or any number of a dozen countries slaughtering their people to this day? Who can say if our 'proactive' approach into Iraq wasn't the start of the Arab Spring?
I doubt any of these questions can be answered with any legitimacy by anyone. It's been a crazy ten years. Ten Years! At this time ten years ago I was married just a few months. At 6:30 a.m., Pacific Time, I was awakened by a phone call from my bosses wife telling me to turn on the television. She wasn't sure if we were being bombed or what...but she knew we were under attack and that I should turn on the news.
As the information poured in over the next several hours and days I became increasingly overwhelmed. By the sadness, by the rage, by the confusion. I hadn't paid enough attention is world history in high school (not that I think it was discussed) to understand why we we under attack by some weird Middle Eastern group called Al Queda. And my poor ex-husband was so under the influence of heroin the previous 10 years that he didn't realize that George W. Bush was the second Bush serving as President of the United States. He had vague recollections...just enough for me to realize I was married to the wrong man.
So this time, ten years ago, while the country was in an emotional state of flux - so was I. I have oddly considered the horrible acts imparted upon this country the best day of my life. While I surrendered to sleepwalking through the last few years of my life, I was at least somehow moving forward. In the three years leading up to 9/11 I wasn't sleepwalking so much as moving forward in a dark tunnel with blind folds on. I didn't want to acknowledge in any way that I was on the wrong path and if I just kept moving, I would see the end of that tunnel. Bin Laden and his plans was that light.
In the early morning light of September 11th, 2001 - the lives of over 3000 people passed before my eyes. I continually asked myself how many of them forgot to say "I love you" to those they loved. I wondered how many of them intended to do more with their lives 'when they had the time'. I was forced to ask myself what would I have done differently in my life if I had known I would die in a top floor office on a random day of a random year for some unknown random reason.
And so I commenced upon a plan of action to address that question. I sure as hell wouldn't be married to a drug addict who didn't even realize that G. W. was the son of G. H. W. Bush. I certainly would want the distinction of being a college grad. and I most definitely wanted to be considered a better human being than I thought I was at the time.
I know that ten years later I have achieved at least those goals. There are more goals to accomplish - but those are pretty great. Even my petty goal to have a smaller number flash upon the scale can't compare to those other three. But it's pretty awesome to see I'm half-way there on that count too. I've lost 60 pounds since January and am off all meds outside of vitamin supplements. That's pretty freakin' amazing.
Even more amazing is the realization that I am the daughter I was raised to be. When my father was diagnosed with cancer and needed surgery, it didn't take me but a second to realize I needed to go home. Taking care of parents, which more and more of us have to do, is part of the obligation of being in a family. And I am so grateful not to resent that obligation. Is it hard? Yes! Are there resentments built into that obligation? Yes. Would I trade that resentment/obligation for abdication? No. My parents continued to love and care for me when I was the least likeable person I know. It was time to repay the debt.
And for all of you who offered your prayers, support, and assistance...they were rewarded. My Dad's surgery went well and the pathology reports indicate that as far as the prostate cancer is concerned...he's cured. No chemo, no radiation needed. We still have the partial kidney to contend with a few months from now - but for the moment, we are celebrating this small victory.
It is my hope and prayer that I will continue to grow, achieve goals, and evolve into an even better human being over the next ten years...and it wouldn't hurt my feelings at all for those in Washington to do the same. Otherwise, Al Queda will have won after all.
C-
p.s. On another, less somber day...remind me to recount the brain-burning recollection of my father's decision to remove his own catheter...and my attempt to keep that horrible situation from recurring...much to my mother's chagrin and embarrassment.
What I do know is that I'm the only one I know who has read every UN Treaty on Iraq and there isn't a single country that didn't believe that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction. And every sanction that was imparted was ignored. I am also convinced that whatever weapons might have existed were removed, destroyed or buried before we ever entered that country and we knew it before Colin Powell stepped foot on the stage at the UN - leaving me to believe that George Bush threw Colin Powell under the bus for an invasion, occupation and war that could have been rationalized under much better circumstances. Who among us would have denied our troops the authorization to enter and overthrow a dictator that was systematically killing its own people no differently than Hitler did in the 40's? Who here isn't justifying Obama's insurgence into Libya for the same reason? Who here doesn't think we should have done more in Somalia? Or any number of a dozen countries slaughtering their people to this day? Who can say if our 'proactive' approach into Iraq wasn't the start of the Arab Spring?
I doubt any of these questions can be answered with any legitimacy by anyone. It's been a crazy ten years. Ten Years! At this time ten years ago I was married just a few months. At 6:30 a.m., Pacific Time, I was awakened by a phone call from my bosses wife telling me to turn on the television. She wasn't sure if we were being bombed or what...but she knew we were under attack and that I should turn on the news.
As the information poured in over the next several hours and days I became increasingly overwhelmed. By the sadness, by the rage, by the confusion. I hadn't paid enough attention is world history in high school (not that I think it was discussed) to understand why we we under attack by some weird Middle Eastern group called Al Queda. And my poor ex-husband was so under the influence of heroin the previous 10 years that he didn't realize that George W. Bush was the second Bush serving as President of the United States. He had vague recollections...just enough for me to realize I was married to the wrong man.
So this time, ten years ago, while the country was in an emotional state of flux - so was I. I have oddly considered the horrible acts imparted upon this country the best day of my life. While I surrendered to sleepwalking through the last few years of my life, I was at least somehow moving forward. In the three years leading up to 9/11 I wasn't sleepwalking so much as moving forward in a dark tunnel with blind folds on. I didn't want to acknowledge in any way that I was on the wrong path and if I just kept moving, I would see the end of that tunnel. Bin Laden and his plans was that light.
In the early morning light of September 11th, 2001 - the lives of over 3000 people passed before my eyes. I continually asked myself how many of them forgot to say "I love you" to those they loved. I wondered how many of them intended to do more with their lives 'when they had the time'. I was forced to ask myself what would I have done differently in my life if I had known I would die in a top floor office on a random day of a random year for some unknown random reason.
And so I commenced upon a plan of action to address that question. I sure as hell wouldn't be married to a drug addict who didn't even realize that G. W. was the son of G. H. W. Bush. I certainly would want the distinction of being a college grad. and I most definitely wanted to be considered a better human being than I thought I was at the time.
I know that ten years later I have achieved at least those goals. There are more goals to accomplish - but those are pretty great. Even my petty goal to have a smaller number flash upon the scale can't compare to those other three. But it's pretty awesome to see I'm half-way there on that count too. I've lost 60 pounds since January and am off all meds outside of vitamin supplements. That's pretty freakin' amazing.
Even more amazing is the realization that I am the daughter I was raised to be. When my father was diagnosed with cancer and needed surgery, it didn't take me but a second to realize I needed to go home. Taking care of parents, which more and more of us have to do, is part of the obligation of being in a family. And I am so grateful not to resent that obligation. Is it hard? Yes! Are there resentments built into that obligation? Yes. Would I trade that resentment/obligation for abdication? No. My parents continued to love and care for me when I was the least likeable person I know. It was time to repay the debt.
And for all of you who offered your prayers, support, and assistance...they were rewarded. My Dad's surgery went well and the pathology reports indicate that as far as the prostate cancer is concerned...he's cured. No chemo, no radiation needed. We still have the partial kidney to contend with a few months from now - but for the moment, we are celebrating this small victory.
It is my hope and prayer that I will continue to grow, achieve goals, and evolve into an even better human being over the next ten years...and it wouldn't hurt my feelings at all for those in Washington to do the same. Otherwise, Al Queda will have won after all.
C-
p.s. On another, less somber day...remind me to recount the brain-burning recollection of my father's decision to remove his own catheter...and my attempt to keep that horrible situation from recurring...much to my mother's chagrin and embarrassment.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Rainy Days and Mondays...
To be perfectly honest, I am not sure how I am feeling at the moment.
A) Grateful for my life?
B)Pissed at my life?
C)Numb?
D) All of the above?
Mostly "D". The answer's always "D".
A week and a half ago, my father was diagnosed with prostate cancer. When my mother first told me I was actually pretty ok. Prostate cancer is just one of those things that happen to men at a certain age, and if caught early...pretty damn treatable. Of course my first inclination was 'to get it out'...cut 'im open and take it out. And both Mom and Dad were of like mind. I think most of my family was.
Then I met with my own doctor for my own self...and he said the risks of surgery are worse than the disease, or at least the odds to extend his life were minimal at best - I thought, maybe we need to rethink this. And again, family agreed. So back to their doctor(s) they went. This time to an oncologist. Which led to a pelvic scan. Which led to a new diagnoses of kidney cancer.
And that's all we know. We don't know what stage, we don't know how bad, how invasive, how long, what treatments beyond surgery or even when surgery needs to take place. I'm just in limbo. We're all in limbo.
And I know I need to take this one step at a time. He has a bone scan on Thursday. A meeting with the oncologist on Monday. Will they tell me weeks or years? I don't know. Am I grateful I've already planned a trip home? Of course. Am I aware that my father is 78 years old and grateful I've had him this long? Of course. But do we typically want all we can get? Oh yes.
My Dad is my hero. My John Wayne. My fighter pilot. The old man you see at a war memorial. He has laid bare his life for this country and his family. He's more worried about my Mom than himself.
And at the moment...there's nothing I can do. In a family of type "A" personalities...that's problematic. And who should we tell when? Do we panic people for nothing? Or give them a chance to wrap their own brains around the process? I just don't know.
What I can do is pray. I can pray that it's simply a single kidney. A single prostate thingy. I don't know how all those parts work. I know I don't want it to be in his bones. I know I'm not yet ready to say good-bye. I do know that the man just has to get a hearing aid before it's over so he can hear me say I love him. I know he knows it, but I want him to hear me.
I want to tell him about my wonderful trip to Seattle. Where I got to see world famous fishermen toss their fish as a sales team. Something I saw in a team building exorcize years back.
That I got to see Kurt Cobain's memorial (not that my dad knows who Kurt Cobain is nor that I almost never listened to Nirvana)...but I did get a private bus tour of some of the more interesting neighborhoods and history of the seamy side of Seattle.
That after 35 years, I finally found real, live mango-stein fruit. An obsession of mine since I left Bangkok at 6 years old. Couldn't find it in LA, San Francisco, or the world market in Atlanta...but in a huge Asian market in Seattle...I could buy all I wanted for $13.99/lb! I bought four. Fruits, not pounds.
From there, I walked to Nordstrom's. Just because I'm a girl and the original is 9 floors of over-priced wares. When I spied a beautiful rhinestone necklace, the sales lady assured me it was a steal. I told her the next time $129 was a steal...I'd be back.
Instead I spent my money on a 'Ride the Ducks' amphibious tour of a different part of the city. One part on land, the other part on sea. A stellar adventure both ways. And after my four mile walk (that I'm incredibly proud of)...I finished the day with a quick ride up the Space Needle.
But throughout all of that one-day adventure...I just kept thinking how much my parents would like to know that I'm enjoying my life. And no matter what lies in the future...the one thing that would make my dad happy is knowing I'm happy and making myself just as healthy as I can be. Please join me as I pray he can watch me do that just as long as he possibly can.
Me...
A) Grateful for my life?
B)Pissed at my life?
C)Numb?
D) All of the above?
Mostly "D". The answer's always "D".
A week and a half ago, my father was diagnosed with prostate cancer. When my mother first told me I was actually pretty ok. Prostate cancer is just one of those things that happen to men at a certain age, and if caught early...pretty damn treatable. Of course my first inclination was 'to get it out'...cut 'im open and take it out. And both Mom and Dad were of like mind. I think most of my family was.
Then I met with my own doctor for my own self...and he said the risks of surgery are worse than the disease, or at least the odds to extend his life were minimal at best - I thought, maybe we need to rethink this. And again, family agreed. So back to their doctor(s) they went. This time to an oncologist. Which led to a pelvic scan. Which led to a new diagnoses of kidney cancer.
And that's all we know. We don't know what stage, we don't know how bad, how invasive, how long, what treatments beyond surgery or even when surgery needs to take place. I'm just in limbo. We're all in limbo.
And I know I need to take this one step at a time. He has a bone scan on Thursday. A meeting with the oncologist on Monday. Will they tell me weeks or years? I don't know. Am I grateful I've already planned a trip home? Of course. Am I aware that my father is 78 years old and grateful I've had him this long? Of course. But do we typically want all we can get? Oh yes.
My Dad is my hero. My John Wayne. My fighter pilot. The old man you see at a war memorial. He has laid bare his life for this country and his family. He's more worried about my Mom than himself.
And at the moment...there's nothing I can do. In a family of type "A" personalities...that's problematic. And who should we tell when? Do we panic people for nothing? Or give them a chance to wrap their own brains around the process? I just don't know.
What I can do is pray. I can pray that it's simply a single kidney. A single prostate thingy. I don't know how all those parts work. I know I don't want it to be in his bones. I know I'm not yet ready to say good-bye. I do know that the man just has to get a hearing aid before it's over so he can hear me say I love him. I know he knows it, but I want him to hear me.
I want to tell him about my wonderful trip to Seattle. Where I got to see world famous fishermen toss their fish as a sales team. Something I saw in a team building exorcize years back.
That I got to see Kurt Cobain's memorial (not that my dad knows who Kurt Cobain is nor that I almost never listened to Nirvana)...but I did get a private bus tour of some of the more interesting neighborhoods and history of the seamy side of Seattle.
That after 35 years, I finally found real, live mango-stein fruit. An obsession of mine since I left Bangkok at 6 years old. Couldn't find it in LA, San Francisco, or the world market in Atlanta...but in a huge Asian market in Seattle...I could buy all I wanted for $13.99/lb! I bought four. Fruits, not pounds.
From there, I walked to Nordstrom's. Just because I'm a girl and the original is 9 floors of over-priced wares. When I spied a beautiful rhinestone necklace, the sales lady assured me it was a steal. I told her the next time $129 was a steal...I'd be back.
Instead I spent my money on a 'Ride the Ducks' amphibious tour of a different part of the city. One part on land, the other part on sea. A stellar adventure both ways. And after my four mile walk (that I'm incredibly proud of)...I finished the day with a quick ride up the Space Needle.
But throughout all of that one-day adventure...I just kept thinking how much my parents would like to know that I'm enjoying my life. And no matter what lies in the future...the one thing that would make my dad happy is knowing I'm happy and making myself just as healthy as I can be. Please join me as I pray he can watch me do that just as long as he possibly can.
Me...
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Boom Chuckalucka Boom Boom
So I'm sitting here with 84 cents to my name until I get paid tomorrow and I couldn't be happier. Since January I have lost a whopping 50 pounds and I feel fabulous!
On the Fourth of July, I drove Mrs. Kravits up to the quaint and country town of Rutledge, GA to attend the Sunflower festival. Those who know me well know that Sunflowers are one of my all time favorite flowers and how better to spend a summer day than in the midst of thousands of them! I had spent hours the weeks before downloading all my favorite tunes to a flash drive so we could sing a long in the car...but Mrs. Kravits was in a bit of a dour mood on the ride up. Her life story is tragic at best and some days are worse than others. But as we turned the corner to the field of flowers, her mood definitely lifted and by the end of our time there she was positively radiant. We took pictures of each other riding tractors and clowning around with gourd masks. We wandered the stalls of local artisans hawking their wares and chatted with the shop keepers about the work that they do. I was surreptitiously taking snapshots of some of the crafts thinking 'hell...I could do that!' And at the end of our time, I forked over $15 and got a pair of clippers and a bucket to cut as many sunflowers as I could hold.
I took a wrong turn on the way out of the place when we were leaving and told Mrs. Kravits not to worry...I had my handy dandy navigator with me. We would find our way home. Little had I realized at that moment that I had turned the settings to take surface streets instead of the freeway. As we laughed our asses off mid-way through our maze home...we realized what a gift it was. We didn't spend our 60 miles staring at asphalt and useless billboards, but instead wound our way through multiple tiny towns filled with antebellum homes and acres of farmland. Toward the end, a merciful rain began to fall easing the heat and releasing one of my favorite emanations - that of big juicy raindrops hitting scorching red clay. It's a scent that can only be found in the South, when the ground gets so hot it's almost like a fire-pit. And when the rain hits, the explosion of musty dirt and fragrant grasses permeates your nostrils until it feels almost like you are being reborn into the nature around you.
When we finally turned the corner to our street, I could see the soft stain of sunburn across Mrs. Kravits's face where she had smiled the day away. Forgetting the drama her family creates and just enjoying the time away. That alone was worth the trip.
After taking a short catnap, I got up and started anew. A fresh shower to wash the rank away, slipping on khaki's I haven't worn in years and wearing my favorite new pair of shoes: patent leather turquoise wedge sandals that make me feel like super model on a cat-walk. I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shoes...I'm too sexy :) Went over to my friend Mark's girlfriend's loft downtown. Up on the fifth floor roof top we grilled steaks, drank wine and watched the multiple profusion of fireworks that littered the city skyline. I could see three different performances from our vantage point, making it seem like it was theatre in the round. Of course the glittering waterfalls occurring just a few miles out from us seemed so close we could have grabbed the stardust in our hands - and the reflection of them echoing in the glass tiled buildings didn't hurt my feelings one bit. It was nice for a moment to remember why I love this country. The 30 or so on-lookers with us broke out every once in a while in bad but beautiful renditions of America and the Star Spangled Banner...the lack of professionalism well overrun by the heartfelt sentiment behind the lyrics.
The last week or so, I've been dutifully crossing off the list of to-do items I've put off for too long. I finally made a mammogram appt. - something I've been dreading. I mean seriously, who the hell wants to put their privates in a freaking cold metal clamping mechanism? I feel like it's a humorless attempt to make patties out of my boobies.
I wrote my friend a long letter as he patiently spends his days in prison for horrible choices he made in addiction. I pray for him constantly as he finds his way out of the bleak whole he put himself in.
I started tending to my garden once again. Something my whale of a body was loath to do of late. And for my effort, I accidentally began to grow a crop of...zucchini. No wait, cucumbers...nope, I see the fruit now...it's fucking cantaloupe! You would have though God could have made greater distinctions in the leaf and flowering patterns of edible greens. Apparently when I was throwing in some home grown mulch...I threw in the seeds of a long rotten cantaloupe I had cut for myself. What I had intended to be a beautiful string of liriope and golden oros has been overtaken by the extravagant and flourishing vines of hearty fruit. Too cheap to spring for tomato cages...I made do with an old wrought iron table, chairs and easel I've been intending to refurbish. Officially proving that it's way too easy to be white trash when your roots are deep South. Also note my garden bird, his huge green globey eyes poking out from amidst the tundra!
Over the weekend, I volunteered my time and energy at the Church Jumble Sale we hold every year to benefit the teenagers' mission trip each fall. Come July, we Epiphanites haul in our old, unwanted wares...and then spend the weekend buying each others crap. We raised $7000 with this effort though...proving that one man's junk is another man's treasure! I bought two god-awful chairs with great lines and am beyond excited to refurbish them. I found a great upholstery class that starts this fall just a few miles from my house at the technical college. I can hardly stand the wait! I have grand visions of stripping off the crayola orange paint and narly Naugahyde and recovering in some timeless fabric and crisp white enamal, studded with gleaming nickel upholstery tacks!
I wrapped up this week with the bone crushing relief that the ballsy request I made for a raise (amidst thousands of layoffs) was not only approved, but substantial. I can see some light at the end of my debt laden tunnel as I spent the better part of an evening figuring out how to squirrel some of my fortune away into savings while I chip away at the mountain of red ink in my life. I can actually feel the stress slip away from my shoulders as I see a week not left with 84 cents, but a couple of bills in my pocket. Now that's a good feeling!
As always...thanks for letting me share. I am constantly filled with gratitude for the multitude of friendships in my life.
Cam
On the Fourth of July, I drove Mrs. Kravits up to the quaint and country town of Rutledge, GA to attend the Sunflower festival. Those who know me well know that Sunflowers are one of my all time favorite flowers and how better to spend a summer day than in the midst of thousands of them! I had spent hours the weeks before downloading all my favorite tunes to a flash drive so we could sing a long in the car...but Mrs. Kravits was in a bit of a dour mood on the ride up. Her life story is tragic at best and some days are worse than others. But as we turned the corner to the field of flowers, her mood definitely lifted and by the end of our time there she was positively radiant. We took pictures of each other riding tractors and clowning around with gourd masks. We wandered the stalls of local artisans hawking their wares and chatted with the shop keepers about the work that they do. I was surreptitiously taking snapshots of some of the crafts thinking 'hell...I could do that!' And at the end of our time, I forked over $15 and got a pair of clippers and a bucket to cut as many sunflowers as I could hold.
I took a wrong turn on the way out of the place when we were leaving and told Mrs. Kravits not to worry...I had my handy dandy navigator with me. We would find our way home. Little had I realized at that moment that I had turned the settings to take surface streets instead of the freeway. As we laughed our asses off mid-way through our maze home...we realized what a gift it was. We didn't spend our 60 miles staring at asphalt and useless billboards, but instead wound our way through multiple tiny towns filled with antebellum homes and acres of farmland. Toward the end, a merciful rain began to fall easing the heat and releasing one of my favorite emanations - that of big juicy raindrops hitting scorching red clay. It's a scent that can only be found in the South, when the ground gets so hot it's almost like a fire-pit. And when the rain hits, the explosion of musty dirt and fragrant grasses permeates your nostrils until it feels almost like you are being reborn into the nature around you.
When we finally turned the corner to our street, I could see the soft stain of sunburn across Mrs. Kravits's face where she had smiled the day away. Forgetting the drama her family creates and just enjoying the time away. That alone was worth the trip.
After taking a short catnap, I got up and started anew. A fresh shower to wash the rank away, slipping on khaki's I haven't worn in years and wearing my favorite new pair of shoes: patent leather turquoise wedge sandals that make me feel like super model on a cat-walk. I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shoes...I'm too sexy :) Went over to my friend Mark's girlfriend's loft downtown. Up on the fifth floor roof top we grilled steaks, drank wine and watched the multiple profusion of fireworks that littered the city skyline. I could see three different performances from our vantage point, making it seem like it was theatre in the round. Of course the glittering waterfalls occurring just a few miles out from us seemed so close we could have grabbed the stardust in our hands - and the reflection of them echoing in the glass tiled buildings didn't hurt my feelings one bit. It was nice for a moment to remember why I love this country. The 30 or so on-lookers with us broke out every once in a while in bad but beautiful renditions of America and the Star Spangled Banner...the lack of professionalism well overrun by the heartfelt sentiment behind the lyrics.
The last week or so, I've been dutifully crossing off the list of to-do items I've put off for too long. I finally made a mammogram appt. - something I've been dreading. I mean seriously, who the hell wants to put their privates in a freaking cold metal clamping mechanism? I feel like it's a humorless attempt to make patties out of my boobies.
I wrote my friend a long letter as he patiently spends his days in prison for horrible choices he made in addiction. I pray for him constantly as he finds his way out of the bleak whole he put himself in.
I started tending to my garden once again. Something my whale of a body was loath to do of late. And for my effort, I accidentally began to grow a crop of...zucchini. No wait, cucumbers...nope, I see the fruit now...it's fucking cantaloupe! You would have though God could have made greater distinctions in the leaf and flowering patterns of edible greens. Apparently when I was throwing in some home grown mulch...I threw in the seeds of a long rotten cantaloupe I had cut for myself. What I had intended to be a beautiful string of liriope and golden oros has been overtaken by the extravagant and flourishing vines of hearty fruit. Too cheap to spring for tomato cages...I made do with an old wrought iron table, chairs and easel I've been intending to refurbish. Officially proving that it's way too easy to be white trash when your roots are deep South. Also note my garden bird, his huge green globey eyes poking out from amidst the tundra!
Over the weekend, I volunteered my time and energy at the Church Jumble Sale we hold every year to benefit the teenagers' mission trip each fall. Come July, we Epiphanites haul in our old, unwanted wares...and then spend the weekend buying each others crap. We raised $7000 with this effort though...proving that one man's junk is another man's treasure! I bought two god-awful chairs with great lines and am beyond excited to refurbish them. I found a great upholstery class that starts this fall just a few miles from my house at the technical college. I can hardly stand the wait! I have grand visions of stripping off the crayola orange paint and narly Naugahyde and recovering in some timeless fabric and crisp white enamal, studded with gleaming nickel upholstery tacks!
I wrapped up this week with the bone crushing relief that the ballsy request I made for a raise (amidst thousands of layoffs) was not only approved, but substantial. I can see some light at the end of my debt laden tunnel as I spent the better part of an evening figuring out how to squirrel some of my fortune away into savings while I chip away at the mountain of red ink in my life. I can actually feel the stress slip away from my shoulders as I see a week not left with 84 cents, but a couple of bills in my pocket. Now that's a good feeling!
As always...thanks for letting me share. I am constantly filled with gratitude for the multitude of friendships in my life.
Cam
Monday, June 27, 2011
Week 5
So if 21 is the year of living dangerously...The year of 41 is living selfishly. For one thing, I can't believe I'm 41. It's not even a concept I can wrap my brain around. I am officially middle age and I don't know how to process that information.
What I do know is that I feel like that the last few years of my life have been lost in a vacuum. Not wasted perhaps - a lot of growth has come in these last few years. I keep thinking about my father's statement that you don't get smart until your 40. So by that measure, I'm just getting started. But I spent an awful lot of time sitting at home either stuffing my face or feeling sorry for myself or just killing time. And it's the last statement that really bothers me.
If you're stuffing your face or feeling sorry for yourself, there's still an action involved. Albeit an unhealthy one - but an action nonetheless. But the killing time thing - that's a waste of a life. Going back to the God thing - that was really the thing that made me feel the most guilty. I truly feel that God put us on this life to LIVE. To feel, the grow, to think, to explore. Not all of it will feel good. Some of it will suck. A lot of it will be routine. But to give up on the gift of looking forward is I think is one of the biggest sins in this life and it's not even listed in the top 10. I don't know, but maybe God thought living by the original ten would inherently create the concept of hope - but since I haven't always done such a good job of following them - maybe I missed something along the way.
What I do know is that hope, excitement, the future (today) are all very relevant to me now. I don't want to sit at home and wait for when I have the time, have the money, have the man, have the family to do the things I want to do NOW. Of course there has to be a balance of sorts. You do have to plan for the future or you'll be screwed then too - but seriously, I never have looked back and said "Wow - I really wish I hadn't have taken that one month of my life at 21 to drive from Austin to Connecticut and back." And even for the hot second of my marriage - I only rarely think I should have foregone it. I did at least look hot for my wedding and gain a fabulous week in Cabo for my trouble. Hell - even 10 years later I finagled a stunning sofa out of that deal...so it wasn't ALL bad.
But somewhere along the way I got complacent. I got lazy about living. God didn't put us on this earth to just breath in, out and die. He put us here to experience the wonder and the majesty of the world around us. To take in the good, the bad and the ugly along with the awesome ability to rise above those things and thrive.
So this past week I've been planning out the ways to maximize the opportunities I have before me so that I'm actually DOING something with the life I have.
For the fourth of July I found a uniquely Georgia event not far from home. It's a sunflower festival just 40 miles up the road. Good eats, sunflowers for miles, and an arts festival all rolled up into one. A lot like the strawberry festival in California without the dickhead of a date I brought with me to that one! Instead I'll take Mrs. Kravits who I think is suffering from her own bout of fatalism. If sunflowers can't cure her - I don't know what will.
In fact, I'm finally taking her up on her offer of a beach trip in Florida the week after. She's been bugging me for years to go - and through my own bout of isolationism - I've always found a reasonable reason not to go. But why on earth would a rational person avoid a free place to stay at the beach?? Bring on the 70SPF and let's hit the sand!
I've already mentioned the summer trip to Austin and the long desired trip to Schlitterbahn. But in between, I want to hit some other sites as well. I want to actually ride the tram up to see Stone Mountain just a few miles from my house. Five years and I've never seen the enormous bas-relief on its north face, the largest bas-relief in the world?? The carving depicts three figures of the Confederate States of America: Stonewall Jackson, Robert E. Lee, and Jefferson Davis. (yeah - I copied that from Wikipedia, hence all the links :) ) But still - It's a gorgeous park and I've never done the most obvious of tourist attractions there.
I did go to the Wren's Nest house a couple of weekends ago. Neat house, much more interesting history. Home of Joel Harris Chandler, author of all the "Uncle Remus" stories. If that doesn't ring a bell, think Brear Rabbit.
Within the next 12 months I want to get over to Charleston, SC and Savannah, GA. Two of the biggest draws of moving to Atlanta in the first place. And I've never been. Because I didn't have the money or didn't have the time. You know, both those reasons are bullshit. I nickle and dime my way out of Target or the grocery store all the time. I always seem to have the money there. What I want to do this year is avoid the plastic I bring home every week and save that for real memories. Real living. Real investment in my real GD life. That's what God meant for me to do here and I've been frittering it away like I've got all the time in the world to do it. And the reality is...none of us do.
Quit sitting on the sidelines of life and go live it. I've got lots of inspiration from so many of you...and for that I am eternally grateful.
Loving all of you,
Cam
What I do know is that I feel like that the last few years of my life have been lost in a vacuum. Not wasted perhaps - a lot of growth has come in these last few years. I keep thinking about my father's statement that you don't get smart until your 40. So by that measure, I'm just getting started. But I spent an awful lot of time sitting at home either stuffing my face or feeling sorry for myself or just killing time. And it's the last statement that really bothers me.
If you're stuffing your face or feeling sorry for yourself, there's still an action involved. Albeit an unhealthy one - but an action nonetheless. But the killing time thing - that's a waste of a life. Going back to the God thing - that was really the thing that made me feel the most guilty. I truly feel that God put us on this life to LIVE. To feel, the grow, to think, to explore. Not all of it will feel good. Some of it will suck. A lot of it will be routine. But to give up on the gift of looking forward is I think is one of the biggest sins in this life and it's not even listed in the top 10. I don't know, but maybe God thought living by the original ten would inherently create the concept of hope - but since I haven't always done such a good job of following them - maybe I missed something along the way.
What I do know is that hope, excitement, the future (today) are all very relevant to me now. I don't want to sit at home and wait for when I have the time, have the money, have the man, have the family to do the things I want to do NOW. Of course there has to be a balance of sorts. You do have to plan for the future or you'll be screwed then too - but seriously, I never have looked back and said "Wow - I really wish I hadn't have taken that one month of my life at 21 to drive from Austin to Connecticut and back." And even for the hot second of my marriage - I only rarely think I should have foregone it. I did at least look hot for my wedding and gain a fabulous week in Cabo for my trouble. Hell - even 10 years later I finagled a stunning sofa out of that deal...so it wasn't ALL bad.
But somewhere along the way I got complacent. I got lazy about living. God didn't put us on this earth to just breath in, out and die. He put us here to experience the wonder and the majesty of the world around us. To take in the good, the bad and the ugly along with the awesome ability to rise above those things and thrive.
So this past week I've been planning out the ways to maximize the opportunities I have before me so that I'm actually DOING something with the life I have.
For the fourth of July I found a uniquely Georgia event not far from home. It's a sunflower festival just 40 miles up the road. Good eats, sunflowers for miles, and an arts festival all rolled up into one. A lot like the strawberry festival in California without the dickhead of a date I brought with me to that one! Instead I'll take Mrs. Kravits who I think is suffering from her own bout of fatalism. If sunflowers can't cure her - I don't know what will.
In fact, I'm finally taking her up on her offer of a beach trip in Florida the week after. She's been bugging me for years to go - and through my own bout of isolationism - I've always found a reasonable reason not to go. But why on earth would a rational person avoid a free place to stay at the beach?? Bring on the 70SPF and let's hit the sand!
I've already mentioned the summer trip to Austin and the long desired trip to Schlitterbahn. But in between, I want to hit some other sites as well. I want to actually ride the tram up to see Stone Mountain just a few miles from my house. Five years and I've never seen the enormous bas-relief on its north face, the largest bas-relief in the world?? The carving depicts three figures of the Confederate States of America: Stonewall Jackson, Robert E. Lee, and Jefferson Davis. (yeah - I copied that from Wikipedia, hence all the links :) ) But still - It's a gorgeous park and I've never done the most obvious of tourist attractions there.
I did go to the Wren's Nest house a couple of weekends ago. Neat house, much more interesting history. Home of Joel Harris Chandler, author of all the "Uncle Remus" stories. If that doesn't ring a bell, think Brear Rabbit.
Within the next 12 months I want to get over to Charleston, SC and Savannah, GA. Two of the biggest draws of moving to Atlanta in the first place. And I've never been. Because I didn't have the money or didn't have the time. You know, both those reasons are bullshit. I nickle and dime my way out of Target or the grocery store all the time. I always seem to have the money there. What I want to do this year is avoid the plastic I bring home every week and save that for real memories. Real living. Real investment in my real GD life. That's what God meant for me to do here and I've been frittering it away like I've got all the time in the world to do it. And the reality is...none of us do.
Quit sitting on the sidelines of life and go live it. I've got lots of inspiration from so many of you...and for that I am eternally grateful.
Loving all of you,
Cam
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Week 4
I have to say thank you for all the wonderful comments and posts to my last email. I guess God took pity on my whining and heeded your loving comments...because I finally broke free of the 244 lb. barrier! Officially down to 239 - 25 pounds and counting!! Yeah!
It's been a strange couple of weeks. Interviewing for a job I already have - which blessedly seems to be re-instated to me. Apparently impressing some folks with a binding machine...a tool I've been using for 10 years. I remember impressing another boss with said tool back then. Little does anyone know I just find the machine fascinating and will use any excuse to use it :) Setting up interviews for other people...for jobs which they already have - but not have next week.
My sister Rebel came in town with her family on their way to Williamsburg, VA - 1/2 work, 1/2 vacation. We had a wonderful dinner with my Aunt and Uncle and cousins. You know it's always touch and go with family...but happy to report that everyone seemed to have a really nice time. Even the youngun's. I remember being bored as hell during family reunion type events, but my youngest nephew just made himself at home telling tall tales of public-school persecution and being wrongfully accused for being a bully. I believe the school labeled it terrorism??!! Where have we come in this world????
Then Mrs. Kravits had to go up north (Georgia that is...not NY) to care for her pseudo-daughter in law while she had an appendectomy or something, so I'm left to buy an 18 pack each night for her brother. Seriously - Old English 800 Malt Liquor. I'm not lying.
Yesterday, which seems like a week ago, an old friend of mine came in for a 6 hour layover, so we tooled around Buckhead to seek out her old apartment and bars, only to discover all but the apartments had been torn down to build new strip malls. After a lovely lunch (including a fabulous margarita!) I took her back to the airport only for her to find her flight cancelled and winding up just going home instead.
Today, I was at the church by 8:30 working on funeral floral arrangements, at work by 10am. Discovered Travelocity was having a great summer sale and bought tickets back to Austin for the end of August. Told Mom she could have me for three days, but Saturday I was going to Schlitterbahn! Haven't been there in 20 years and been dreaming about it nearly as long. World's largest water park! Yeah!!! Invited Rebel and the family, Ron, and left messages for Wende and Whit to see if we can't make it a family affair. Anyone else in the area is more than welcome to come as far as I am concerned. Saturday, August 27th. Let's go!
Really hoping to make the most of this summer as I believe this fall will be crazy busy. In fact, I think I might just take Mrs. Kravits up on her offer to go to Panama Beach for the 4th of July. Who cares if I'm fat? It's not like I'm going to see these people again, right? Really, it's more like a pig in $#!&/ A year from now - none of this will even matter. Most stuff in life doesn't.
My thoughts for the day...
Cam
It's been a strange couple of weeks. Interviewing for a job I already have - which blessedly seems to be re-instated to me. Apparently impressing some folks with a binding machine...a tool I've been using for 10 years. I remember impressing another boss with said tool back then. Little does anyone know I just find the machine fascinating and will use any excuse to use it :) Setting up interviews for other people...for jobs which they already have - but not have next week.
My sister Rebel came in town with her family on their way to Williamsburg, VA - 1/2 work, 1/2 vacation. We had a wonderful dinner with my Aunt and Uncle and cousins. You know it's always touch and go with family...but happy to report that everyone seemed to have a really nice time. Even the youngun's. I remember being bored as hell during family reunion type events, but my youngest nephew just made himself at home telling tall tales of public-school persecution and being wrongfully accused for being a bully. I believe the school labeled it terrorism??!! Where have we come in this world????
Then Mrs. Kravits had to go up north (Georgia that is...not NY) to care for her pseudo-daughter in law while she had an appendectomy or something, so I'm left to buy an 18 pack each night for her brother. Seriously - Old English 800 Malt Liquor. I'm not lying.
Yesterday, which seems like a week ago, an old friend of mine came in for a 6 hour layover, so we tooled around Buckhead to seek out her old apartment and bars, only to discover all but the apartments had been torn down to build new strip malls. After a lovely lunch (including a fabulous margarita!) I took her back to the airport only for her to find her flight cancelled and winding up just going home instead.
Today, I was at the church by 8:30 working on funeral floral arrangements, at work by 10am. Discovered Travelocity was having a great summer sale and bought tickets back to Austin for the end of August. Told Mom she could have me for three days, but Saturday I was going to Schlitterbahn! Haven't been there in 20 years and been dreaming about it nearly as long. World's largest water park! Yeah!!! Invited Rebel and the family, Ron, and left messages for Wende and Whit to see if we can't make it a family affair. Anyone else in the area is more than welcome to come as far as I am concerned. Saturday, August 27th. Let's go!
Really hoping to make the most of this summer as I believe this fall will be crazy busy. In fact, I think I might just take Mrs. Kravits up on her offer to go to Panama Beach for the 4th of July. Who cares if I'm fat? It's not like I'm going to see these people again, right? Really, it's more like a pig in $#!&/ A year from now - none of this will even matter. Most stuff in life doesn't.
My thoughts for the day...
Cam
Monday, June 20, 2011
Week 3.5
One of the things I have never been very good at is letting others know when I'm not at 100%. This is one of those times.
It's not that I'm not doing well. I mean, really - it's pretty incredible how far I've come. But I'm an impatient sort. Hell, isn't that part of the reason I had surgery? So even though I've lost 22 pounds, I'm frustrated that I haven't lost more. I've hit a plateau and been stuck there for the last 10 days or so.
Other than a couple of odd days last week, I've been getting up with Mrs. Kravits and walking about a mile and a half, making my high protein shake and limiting my carbs to relatively nothing compared to a month ago and I'm fucking stuck. It doesn't seem fair.
But when I had my first post-op doctors appointment last week, the doc said I was doing great. So why don't I feel that way? Is this a product of my microwave generation? Am I destined to always look at the sluggish pace of real life? I want to be skinny now! Instead, I get on the scale and look at the same number over and over again.
I bypass the fact that I've already boxed up half my closet and donated it to the fat relatives of Mrs. Kravits; and beyond that I've gone down a bra size - meaning I no longer have to snap my bras in front and then swing it around while I hop like a freaking pogo stick to get my boobs and the cups in alignment. That should be a celebration in itself. But no - I linger on the fact that I still can't wedge my feet into the new shoes I bought a month ago in anticipation of being thinner in my feet. I still have a double chin. And my sugar levels still seem to be at diabetic levels. Much lower to be sure - but not eliminated.
On the other hand, I am trying my best to remain rational. The good news is that the plateau lets my body catch up to the weight loss - meaning my skin has time to regroup rather than just sag like a kangaroo.
I get irrationally happy that I still poo everyday like a normal person. No one likes to talk about poo - but it's a good thing when it happens. It means your body is digesting like it should and eliminating waste. It's not a topic people share over lunch, but I was always pleased that at 10 am I could count on a good 'deposit'. I was told that might change after surgery...and happily I'm still on schedule.
I like seeing my jawline for the first time in years. I like putting on shorts I bought 3 years ago and being able to zip them up. And I love the fact I was in better shape than my dog as we climbed the big hill behind my house for the first time last week.
Two weeks ago I was feeling so over the moon happy I bought a new car. It was such a girly reason too. It was basically because I never like the orangy-red metallic color of the last car. and for once in my life, I owed less on a used car than it was worth. So I was bored after church and didn't feel like going home. Instead I went to the Kia dealership and test drove the rat-mobile (Kia Soul). I fell in love immediately and didn't even bother to try and hide it. Of course they sent me home with it (the beauty of being a buxom blue-eyed red-head with a Persion dealer!). The next day they came withing $50 of my current payments and I signed the papers. I should have negotiated a bit more, but I still got a pretty good deal. I think the last time I had a brand new car was when I was 21. I believe I was due. Granted, the sales agent asked how I was feeling - and I said "scared". He said "why are you scared?" To which I replied: "Because I'm 41 years old and I've never made a decision without the approval of my parents. If I tell them, I'm so grounded!" So Whit or Rebel...if you read this - just keep your mouth shut. You don't have to lie...but I doubt anyone will be asking a direct question on this topic. And if you just can't help yourself (Rebel) - ultimately I broke even. Insurance and gas consumption went down and I have a better warranty to boot.
Additionally, the last couple of weeks have been especially stressful as my company is going through a massive reorganization. The boss that I love is leaving, but seems to be replaced with an equally cool Brit. Others though are bailing, taking advantage of a very nice settlement package - leaving my team a bit in flux. And while I am happy to be ensured of my job, I will miss some of the people I have worked with for the last two years. Amazing how I have a knack for picking industries with overwhelming competition to survive. Let's hope Nokia will find the wherewith all to get through this. Without this job, and the people supporting me - I might never have come this far.
Hope this updates everyone!
Cam
It's not that I'm not doing well. I mean, really - it's pretty incredible how far I've come. But I'm an impatient sort. Hell, isn't that part of the reason I had surgery? So even though I've lost 22 pounds, I'm frustrated that I haven't lost more. I've hit a plateau and been stuck there for the last 10 days or so.
Other than a couple of odd days last week, I've been getting up with Mrs. Kravits and walking about a mile and a half, making my high protein shake and limiting my carbs to relatively nothing compared to a month ago and I'm fucking stuck. It doesn't seem fair.
But when I had my first post-op doctors appointment last week, the doc said I was doing great. So why don't I feel that way? Is this a product of my microwave generation? Am I destined to always look at the sluggish pace of real life? I want to be skinny now! Instead, I get on the scale and look at the same number over and over again.
I bypass the fact that I've already boxed up half my closet and donated it to the fat relatives of Mrs. Kravits; and beyond that I've gone down a bra size - meaning I no longer have to snap my bras in front and then swing it around while I hop like a freaking pogo stick to get my boobs and the cups in alignment. That should be a celebration in itself. But no - I linger on the fact that I still can't wedge my feet into the new shoes I bought a month ago in anticipation of being thinner in my feet. I still have a double chin. And my sugar levels still seem to be at diabetic levels. Much lower to be sure - but not eliminated.
On the other hand, I am trying my best to remain rational. The good news is that the plateau lets my body catch up to the weight loss - meaning my skin has time to regroup rather than just sag like a kangaroo.
I get irrationally happy that I still poo everyday like a normal person. No one likes to talk about poo - but it's a good thing when it happens. It means your body is digesting like it should and eliminating waste. It's not a topic people share over lunch, but I was always pleased that at 10 am I could count on a good 'deposit'. I was told that might change after surgery...and happily I'm still on schedule.
I like seeing my jawline for the first time in years. I like putting on shorts I bought 3 years ago and being able to zip them up. And I love the fact I was in better shape than my dog as we climbed the big hill behind my house for the first time last week.
Two weeks ago I was feeling so over the moon happy I bought a new car. It was such a girly reason too. It was basically because I never like the orangy-red metallic color of the last car. and for once in my life, I owed less on a used car than it was worth. So I was bored after church and didn't feel like going home. Instead I went to the Kia dealership and test drove the rat-mobile (Kia Soul). I fell in love immediately and didn't even bother to try and hide it. Of course they sent me home with it (the beauty of being a buxom blue-eyed red-head with a Persion dealer!). The next day they came withing $50 of my current payments and I signed the papers. I should have negotiated a bit more, but I still got a pretty good deal. I think the last time I had a brand new car was when I was 21. I believe I was due. Granted, the sales agent asked how I was feeling - and I said "scared". He said "why are you scared?" To which I replied: "Because I'm 41 years old and I've never made a decision without the approval of my parents. If I tell them, I'm so grounded!" So Whit or Rebel...if you read this - just keep your mouth shut. You don't have to lie...but I doubt anyone will be asking a direct question on this topic. And if you just can't help yourself (Rebel) - ultimately I broke even. Insurance and gas consumption went down and I have a better warranty to boot.
Additionally, the last couple of weeks have been especially stressful as my company is going through a massive reorganization. The boss that I love is leaving, but seems to be replaced with an equally cool Brit. Others though are bailing, taking advantage of a very nice settlement package - leaving my team a bit in flux. And while I am happy to be ensured of my job, I will miss some of the people I have worked with for the last two years. Amazing how I have a knack for picking industries with overwhelming competition to survive. Let's hope Nokia will find the wherewith all to get through this. Without this job, and the people supporting me - I might never have come this far.
Hope this updates everyone!
Cam
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Week 2
So once again I stepped on the scale this morning. The question everyone wants to know...how much have you lost??? In an stunning 12 days - not even a full two weeks, I have lost 20 pounds! I keep thinking about pounds of butter. It's like 20 boxes of butter had been taped to my body and they are gone! Melted off like I had stuck them in the microwave or something.
The next obvious questions have been - how do you feel? Are you hungry? What can you eat?
1. I feel amazing. After those few horrible days, I am amazed at my level of energy and the desire to accomplish things I've put off for months. I reorganized my kitchen to make room for my protein powder, vitamins and supplements.
I finally sat down and filed the accumulation of papers I'd stuck in a box that said "to file". It took me seven hours, but I finally waded to the bottom of the stack and feel great that everything is finally in order.
I've walked every day with the help of Mrs. Kravits - making it fully around my small block as of last Thursday. Tomorrow we'll push on a little further. I keep reminding myself I have a lifetime to add distance to my walk...right now it's about getting the routine in place.
I had Harry, the handyman, come by yesterday and we ripped out the horrible, shredded carpet that was in one of the guest rooms and prepped the plywood for me to paint. I can't wait to create a fun and exciting alternative to traditional flooring in what will become my office/craftroom.
I had my toenails painted and my hair cut. A treat to myself for coming this far. It will be important to reward myself in new and different ways for accomplishments that don't include food.
I tried on clothes I wore just but a month ago and felt them glide on my body easily rather than sucking in my stomach to loop the buttons. That is a feeling you can't pay money for.
2. Am I hungry? Not really. Yesterday I was truly hungry for the first time. But I had been running at 90 miles an hour since I woke up for my walk. At 2:30 I realized I was hungry. Typically this would mean I would eat twice as much as I needed and then either need a nap or was physically 'done' with any meaningful activity. Instead I had a bowl of soup. Momentarily thinking I should have more before remembering my stomach is now the size of a golf ball. I waited about twenty minutes and realized I really didn't need anything else. I was then able to continue working on the various projects around the house I had started earlier. That too is a wonderful learning curve.
3. What can I eat? I have to have 60-70 grams of protein each day to ensure I don't lose too much muscle as I shed the weight. I have figured out that I can get 50 grams each day just in a morning breakfast shake. With a scoop of protein powder, a small container of Greek yogurt and a cup of skim milk, I get more than 2/3rds of my daily protein in just at breakfast.
As of today, I can start adding pureed food - broadening my menu from shakes and soup to include real food. Lots of folks have suggested baby food, which I did purchase a bit of the other day - but couldn't bring myself to buy baby food meat. Too gross to look at :) Instead bought some pre-cooked teriyake chicken breasts that I can blend with a bit of broth which I am sure will be more palatable than whatever bland yuck we feed our babies! I can't wait to try this for dinner.
I expect by next week I can start adding things to my diet like scrambled eggs and cottage cheese. Soft solids. So far - I have have been fortunate that I have had no negative reactions to what I've eaten. Sticking to the suggested plan, allowing the fear of pain to positively affect my choices. And when you step on the scale each morning to see the reward of those choices...it makes it easy to stay on track.
Every day I am encouraged to think that soon...I will be half the woman I am today :)
So again, all is wonderful in my world today and I could not be happier I finally made the decision to take proactive action; allowing myself to live the life I am supposed to live.
Off to take a shower and head to church. Can't wait to share more later!
Cam
The next obvious questions have been - how do you feel? Are you hungry? What can you eat?
1. I feel amazing. After those few horrible days, I am amazed at my level of energy and the desire to accomplish things I've put off for months. I reorganized my kitchen to make room for my protein powder, vitamins and supplements.
I finally sat down and filed the accumulation of papers I'd stuck in a box that said "to file". It took me seven hours, but I finally waded to the bottom of the stack and feel great that everything is finally in order.
I've walked every day with the help of Mrs. Kravits - making it fully around my small block as of last Thursday. Tomorrow we'll push on a little further. I keep reminding myself I have a lifetime to add distance to my walk...right now it's about getting the routine in place.
I had Harry, the handyman, come by yesterday and we ripped out the horrible, shredded carpet that was in one of the guest rooms and prepped the plywood for me to paint. I can't wait to create a fun and exciting alternative to traditional flooring in what will become my office/craftroom.
I had my toenails painted and my hair cut. A treat to myself for coming this far. It will be important to reward myself in new and different ways for accomplishments that don't include food.
I tried on clothes I wore just but a month ago and felt them glide on my body easily rather than sucking in my stomach to loop the buttons. That is a feeling you can't pay money for.
2. Am I hungry? Not really. Yesterday I was truly hungry for the first time. But I had been running at 90 miles an hour since I woke up for my walk. At 2:30 I realized I was hungry. Typically this would mean I would eat twice as much as I needed and then either need a nap or was physically 'done' with any meaningful activity. Instead I had a bowl of soup. Momentarily thinking I should have more before remembering my stomach is now the size of a golf ball. I waited about twenty minutes and realized I really didn't need anything else. I was then able to continue working on the various projects around the house I had started earlier. That too is a wonderful learning curve.
3. What can I eat? I have to have 60-70 grams of protein each day to ensure I don't lose too much muscle as I shed the weight. I have figured out that I can get 50 grams each day just in a morning breakfast shake. With a scoop of protein powder, a small container of Greek yogurt and a cup of skim milk, I get more than 2/3rds of my daily protein in just at breakfast.
As of today, I can start adding pureed food - broadening my menu from shakes and soup to include real food. Lots of folks have suggested baby food, which I did purchase a bit of the other day - but couldn't bring myself to buy baby food meat. Too gross to look at :) Instead bought some pre-cooked teriyake chicken breasts that I can blend with a bit of broth which I am sure will be more palatable than whatever bland yuck we feed our babies! I can't wait to try this for dinner.
I expect by next week I can start adding things to my diet like scrambled eggs and cottage cheese. Soft solids. So far - I have have been fortunate that I have had no negative reactions to what I've eaten. Sticking to the suggested plan, allowing the fear of pain to positively affect my choices. And when you step on the scale each morning to see the reward of those choices...it makes it easy to stay on track.
Every day I am encouraged to think that soon...I will be half the woman I am today :)
So again, all is wonderful in my world today and I could not be happier I finally made the decision to take proactive action; allowing myself to live the life I am supposed to live.
Off to take a shower and head to church. Can't wait to share more later!
Cam
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Week 1
So this time last week I was laid out on a surgery table blissfully unconscious as doctors closed a loop between me and my worst addiction...food. It's been an interesting roller coaster thus far.
From the wonderful high of prescribed narcotics to the miserable conclusion that sleeping with my feet on the ground, face on the bed and ass in the air was as close to comfortable as I was going to get...I still have no regrets - so ultimately that is the best news.
Thursday and Friday were the worst days thus far - and shouldn't be any huge surprise. I felt a bit like a human construction level where any purely perpendicular or horizontal position caused a bubble of gas to land squarely between my breast bone, making me nauseated and cranky. I now understand why infants need to be burped between feeding sessions and why they wail so if not properly jostled to relieve the pressure. I would have given anything for someone to lay me across their lap and pat me on the back :)
Saturday I woke up after a fairly decent rest and downed a shot of hydrocodine and had a cup of coffee. My God it was like the elixir of life! I took a shower, went to the grocery store, cleaned up the kitchen, finished the laundry and cleaned out all the winter 'fat' clothes in my closet. By 7:30 I was wondering how I was going to spend the next week of "recovery" now that I was feeling so well.
Then the downturn. I don't know if it was the first protein shake, not staying hydrated enough, pushing too hard, not leaving enough time lapse before consuming more liquids or the combination of all of it...but I was exhausted, hungry...and tired of jello. Looked in my little book of "allowable" food and was overwhelmingly excited that I had overlooked 'cream of (blank)' soup! Granted, they said 98% fat free soup...but real f'ing soup! Not another cup of watered down chicken broth!! And incredibly, I actually had a can in the cupboard. Must have been some old guilt driven purchase on many of my attempts to eat somewhat healthier :) So in the microwave did that can go and like mother's milk...I was off to night night land.
So forget about pizza dreams - I had one hell of a doozey on Campbell's Cream of Celery! I was on a crazy maze of underground tracks with my ex-boyfriend Joe in a labyrinth of man-made rubbery playscapes submerged beneath a subdivision in Los Angeles. I kept trying to get out, frequently thinking we had succeeded as we dove through peoples houses and out what we thought was a front door only to be trapped again in the never ending loop. I am sure Freud would have a field day with that...but I think it more likely I had watched one too many episodes of "Bodacious Backyards" on HGTV - where everyone seemed to have a water slide.
At 2:30am Monday, I woke up again feeling bloated and tired. I decided I should do what most others are want to do on Memorial Day...and take it easy. I forewent the drugs and concentrated on careful, calculated hydration. To no particular avail. Since I was up however, I did keep my one promise to myself and started my walking program.
Several weeks ago, I had enlisted the aid of my 62 year old neighbor I call Mrs. Kravits. She is a born co-dependent with a family in desperate need of a day on Jerry Springer...but God love her, I couldn't have the life I do without her. She is nosy and overbearing, and opinionated (hmmm, that sounds familiar) but she graciously takes on the parts of my life I sometimes can't or won't do. She brings my garbage cans in from the street, let's my dogs out to play, and happily helps me dust when I can't bring myself to do it alone.
She was the person most averse to this surgery - but I think she has great skepticism of hospitals in general. Most of her family who've gone in...don't come out. But I finally told her she was either with me or keeping quiet. I also told her she had a job. Since she's a habitual walker anyway - she could show up on my front door at 6am and tell me to get my shoes on. I then calmly explained that for at least 2 months I would come ungratefully to the door and offer her 999 reasons why I couldn't go, shouldn't go, or didn't want to go. She then had permission to look me straight in the eye and tell me to shut my big fat pie-hole and get dressed. That I was the one who wanted to have this fucking surgery and if I was so hell bent on doing it - I'd better learn to walk. I told her to use that as a direct quote so she wouldn't feel bad using the "f" word. I then told her that I would likely be churly and uncommunicative and very grateful if she would not attempt to engage in conversation until I had accepted this daily routine. She seemed resigned to accept the task if not eager to embrace the guidelines. So Monday morning, bright and early - we made the short, but progressive first step of walking from our little cul-de-sac to the end of our road and back again. I promise progress...not perfection. We will do this for a week, adding a 1/2 block every week until I can do a mile or two each morning.
But as the day wore on, so did my attitude. Not unhappy, but frustrated. By 9pm, I gave in and took another shot of liquid calm. Comfort and bliss restored. I watched more regular programming, spoke to family, and had my first real nights sleep in my own bed rather than the sofa. At 6 am, as promised, Mrs. Kravits was at my door. I did not offer protest - but grudgingly shuffled into my sport bra and sneakers before mutely walking out the door.
Rather than continue to fight against my recovery - I got home and took another shot of pain meds, poured myself a cup of coffee and got to work again comfortably. I re-organized the kitchen a bit - making room for what I know will be a lifetime of protein shakes and vitamin supplements. Only I could use this knowledge to rationalize a trip to the Container Store for practical and decorative storage tools for said products. I hate the idea of medicine bottles lined up along my counter. Might as well make them look like candy :) If life gives you lemons as they say...might as well make lemonaide.
Hope this catches everyone up. Thanks again for all the lovely calls and posts. One step at a time...one step at a time.
Cam
From the wonderful high of prescribed narcotics to the miserable conclusion that sleeping with my feet on the ground, face on the bed and ass in the air was as close to comfortable as I was going to get...I still have no regrets - so ultimately that is the best news.
Thursday and Friday were the worst days thus far - and shouldn't be any huge surprise. I felt a bit like a human construction level where any purely perpendicular or horizontal position caused a bubble of gas to land squarely between my breast bone, making me nauseated and cranky. I now understand why infants need to be burped between feeding sessions and why they wail so if not properly jostled to relieve the pressure. I would have given anything for someone to lay me across their lap and pat me on the back :)
Saturday I woke up after a fairly decent rest and downed a shot of hydrocodine and had a cup of coffee. My God it was like the elixir of life! I took a shower, went to the grocery store, cleaned up the kitchen, finished the laundry and cleaned out all the winter 'fat' clothes in my closet. By 7:30 I was wondering how I was going to spend the next week of "recovery" now that I was feeling so well.
Then the downturn. I don't know if it was the first protein shake, not staying hydrated enough, pushing too hard, not leaving enough time lapse before consuming more liquids or the combination of all of it...but I was exhausted, hungry...and tired of jello. Looked in my little book of "allowable" food and was overwhelmingly excited that I had overlooked 'cream of (blank)' soup! Granted, they said 98% fat free soup...but real f'ing soup! Not another cup of watered down chicken broth!! And incredibly, I actually had a can in the cupboard. Must have been some old guilt driven purchase on many of my attempts to eat somewhat healthier :) So in the microwave did that can go and like mother's milk...I was off to night night land.
So forget about pizza dreams - I had one hell of a doozey on Campbell's Cream of Celery! I was on a crazy maze of underground tracks with my ex-boyfriend Joe in a labyrinth of man-made rubbery playscapes submerged beneath a subdivision in Los Angeles. I kept trying to get out, frequently thinking we had succeeded as we dove through peoples houses and out what we thought was a front door only to be trapped again in the never ending loop. I am sure Freud would have a field day with that...but I think it more likely I had watched one too many episodes of "Bodacious Backyards" on HGTV - where everyone seemed to have a water slide.
At 2:30am Monday, I woke up again feeling bloated and tired. I decided I should do what most others are want to do on Memorial Day...and take it easy. I forewent the drugs and concentrated on careful, calculated hydration. To no particular avail. Since I was up however, I did keep my one promise to myself and started my walking program.
Several weeks ago, I had enlisted the aid of my 62 year old neighbor I call Mrs. Kravits. She is a born co-dependent with a family in desperate need of a day on Jerry Springer...but God love her, I couldn't have the life I do without her. She is nosy and overbearing, and opinionated (hmmm, that sounds familiar) but she graciously takes on the parts of my life I sometimes can't or won't do. She brings my garbage cans in from the street, let's my dogs out to play, and happily helps me dust when I can't bring myself to do it alone.
She was the person most averse to this surgery - but I think she has great skepticism of hospitals in general. Most of her family who've gone in...don't come out. But I finally told her she was either with me or keeping quiet. I also told her she had a job. Since she's a habitual walker anyway - she could show up on my front door at 6am and tell me to get my shoes on. I then calmly explained that for at least 2 months I would come ungratefully to the door and offer her 999 reasons why I couldn't go, shouldn't go, or didn't want to go. She then had permission to look me straight in the eye and tell me to shut my big fat pie-hole and get dressed. That I was the one who wanted to have this fucking surgery and if I was so hell bent on doing it - I'd better learn to walk. I told her to use that as a direct quote so she wouldn't feel bad using the "f" word. I then told her that I would likely be churly and uncommunicative and very grateful if she would not attempt to engage in conversation until I had accepted this daily routine. She seemed resigned to accept the task if not eager to embrace the guidelines. So Monday morning, bright and early - we made the short, but progressive first step of walking from our little cul-de-sac to the end of our road and back again. I promise progress...not perfection. We will do this for a week, adding a 1/2 block every week until I can do a mile or two each morning.
But as the day wore on, so did my attitude. Not unhappy, but frustrated. By 9pm, I gave in and took another shot of liquid calm. Comfort and bliss restored. I watched more regular programming, spoke to family, and had my first real nights sleep in my own bed rather than the sofa. At 6 am, as promised, Mrs. Kravits was at my door. I did not offer protest - but grudgingly shuffled into my sport bra and sneakers before mutely walking out the door.
Rather than continue to fight against my recovery - I got home and took another shot of pain meds, poured myself a cup of coffee and got to work again comfortably. I re-organized the kitchen a bit - making room for what I know will be a lifetime of protein shakes and vitamin supplements. Only I could use this knowledge to rationalize a trip to the Container Store for practical and decorative storage tools for said products. I hate the idea of medicine bottles lined up along my counter. Might as well make them look like candy :) If life gives you lemons as they say...might as well make lemonaide.
Hope this catches everyone up. Thanks again for all the lovely calls and posts. One step at a time...one step at a time.
Cam
Friday, May 27, 2011
Day 3
I'm home. Wished I had stayed one more day. Yesterday was miserable. Mostly the gas they pumped me with for the surgery less than the actual incisions. I'm still trying to burp my way out of that mess :) Was so very, very happy at the hospital...but I only realize now that was because I had a button to push every six minutes with Delodin! Wednesday I thought I'd had the easiest surgery ever!! Then I went home. Couldn't seem to find a comfortable position - best seems to be sitting up.
Today walked around the back yard a bit trying to relieve some of the pressure and it has helped some. Also, the doctor suggested hot tea. I don't typically like tea, but it was very comforting nonetheless. I find looking at pictures of food make me want it...but I'm definitely not starving. Apple juice and water keep me pretty full.
Ironically, I think I weigh more now than when I went in. I think it's the gas and maybe the saline solution which is sugar water I gather. my sugar levels were through the roof post op. I expect to deflate by the end of the weekend and then start on the protein shakes.
Just finished rooting some little gardenia shoots that Sharon brought me from her garden. Am hoping they take off and I can plant them next spring.
Thank you all for your well wishes and prayers. It meant a lot. Hoping to write more peppy blogs soon.
Cam
Today walked around the back yard a bit trying to relieve some of the pressure and it has helped some. Also, the doctor suggested hot tea. I don't typically like tea, but it was very comforting nonetheless. I find looking at pictures of food make me want it...but I'm definitely not starving. Apple juice and water keep me pretty full.
Ironically, I think I weigh more now than when I went in. I think it's the gas and maybe the saline solution which is sugar water I gather. my sugar levels were through the roof post op. I expect to deflate by the end of the weekend and then start on the protein shakes.
Just finished rooting some little gardenia shoots that Sharon brought me from her garden. Am hoping they take off and I can plant them next spring.
Thank you all for your well wishes and prayers. It meant a lot. Hoping to write more peppy blogs soon.
Cam
Monday, May 23, 2011
T-0
So I called my mom this morning to give her some updates on miscellaneous stuff. I sure hope I don't die tomorrow or she's really going to feel like crap! She rushed me off the phone because someone else was on the line. Not that I think she doesn't love me...God knows she's put up with me way longer than most parents would...but just keep that in mind when you're feeling bitchy and short. Life can be the same.
I don't know that I have a whole lot to add tonight. It's about 8:30pm - I'm sick to death of beef broth and jello. At the movies on Sunday I kept fantasizing I might suck on a few pieces of my friends popcorn and spit it out like chewing tobacco...but figured I wouldn't have the will to do it.
I have to be at the hospital at 7am...and neither Sharon nor I are particularly great morning people. I told her to pull up and honk the horn. I'd wave and get in and we could mutually ride silently in the dark in sullen discomfort.
I've packed a small bag with a nightgown, my Kindle and a tube of chapstick. I can't think of anything else I could possibly need. Hell, I can't even think of why I would need to wear a bra. I'm going to get there and there going to tell me to put on one of those hideous ass-flapping gowns anyway, right? Maybe a toothbrush should be added to the list I guess.
Just finished listening to my favorite song: Drift Away by the Dobie Gray. I don't know why, but years ago I heard it on the soundtrack to Wonderland - an uplifting little movie about the beginning of porn...and it struck me as a gospel song. So whenever I hear it, I get a little weepy hoping Jesus enjoys Southern Rock just as much as I do.Drift Away
So signing out. God speed and good luck. Chat soon ya'll.
Cam
I don't know that I have a whole lot to add tonight. It's about 8:30pm - I'm sick to death of beef broth and jello. At the movies on Sunday I kept fantasizing I might suck on a few pieces of my friends popcorn and spit it out like chewing tobacco...but figured I wouldn't have the will to do it.
I have to be at the hospital at 7am...and neither Sharon nor I are particularly great morning people. I told her to pull up and honk the horn. I'd wave and get in and we could mutually ride silently in the dark in sullen discomfort.
I've packed a small bag with a nightgown, my Kindle and a tube of chapstick. I can't think of anything else I could possibly need. Hell, I can't even think of why I would need to wear a bra. I'm going to get there and there going to tell me to put on one of those hideous ass-flapping gowns anyway, right? Maybe a toothbrush should be added to the list I guess.
Just finished listening to my favorite song: Drift Away by the Dobie Gray. I don't know why, but years ago I heard it on the soundtrack to Wonderland - an uplifting little movie about the beginning of porn...and it struck me as a gospel song. So whenever I hear it, I get a little weepy hoping Jesus enjoys Southern Rock just as much as I do.Drift Away
So signing out. God speed and good luck. Chat soon ya'll.
Cam
Saturday, May 21, 2011
T-2
I'm utterly exhausted writing this tonight...so apologies if not up to par :) Started a week ago when I went on a 40 mile hunt for a freaking ice cream bar. I don't even care about ice cream! But the thought of never having one again...and at most a tiny taste of one for a very, very long time...made a bit of an addict out of me.
It was last Friday as I was watching TV, relaxing...chillin. Nothin' up for the evening... when an ad for Magnum Ice Cream made my mouth salivate over the creamy rich European vanilla ice cream, double coated in Belgian chocolate with a layer of caramel in between. My God it sounded like an orgasm on a stick! Hell, even the name Magnum brought certain connotations with it! So I think, why not? I've got nothing better to do at 10pm on a Friday night. So I Google the brand and very kindly it gave me a list of sellers within a 20 mile radius of my home. Walgreen's about 9 miles from my house seemed the closest.
So I set my Navigator with the address, choosing the back-roads instead of the freeway because I really don't like driving at night at 80 miles an hour anymore. I didn't realize it would add about 5 miles to my trip. And after driving along some very dark and country roads...I finally find heaven in the offing. And wouldn't you fucking know I picked the one Walgreen's on the planet that closes at 10pm.
Well now I'm on a mission. I am having ice cream by God! I'll go to Publix, the high-town grocery just down the road from my house. Surely they'll have something equally decadent to sink my taste buds into, right? But to hell with the back-roads, it's 10:30 now, and I just want sugar...a junkie overdosing on an imaginary high. It's not too long before I find the freeway and pick it up. I go about 5 exits down the road before I realize I am going the WRONG f'ing way! Seriously, I'm now 25 miles into my quest and farther than ever from home. So I turn around, literally now laughing like a mad woman at how crazy this would seem to any sane and rational person. I get off at the appropriate exit and make my way to the grocery store...and it's CLOSED! OMG! But do I take heed? Do I give up? Oh helllll no! In my peripheral vision I see the glowing neon sign of a Walgreen's oh but a few hundred yards away. Like a moth, I am driven to the calligraphy of the red glowing sign stating "OPEN 24 HOURS". And wouldn't you know...all but a lo 2 miles from my home I could have been satiated early and well - given they too carried the the crack-like cream I was so feverishly in need of. So like Gollum and his compulsive need to horde the One Ring, I giggled nervously on the way home - mentally savoring the heady vanilla, rich chocolate and buttery caramel about to cascade down my gullet.
At 11:35 last Friday night, after a 40 mile adventure, I wickedly tore at the paper covering, hoisted the Magnum bar to my mouth and thought...huh - I think Dove does this better. That was Friday.
Since then I have straightened the house, done the laundry, purchased $300 worth of shoes, a chair, a pillow, a belated mother's day gift, a new kitchen faucet, paid off a credit card, stuck a $1000 dollars into savings and stayed on the phone with friends way too late.
I have discovered my job is not quite as secure as I thought, I still don't want to quit smoking, am not ready to be off anti-depressants (went a little crazy for nine hours when I couldn't find my cat...many apologies to my neighbor when he finally came home), and I will always rationalize a way to pay somebody else to dust. I also discovered that real gunshots at 3 am really can cause a person to freak out just a little.
I have locked myself out of my car, lost my phone, found my phone and dropped my phone into a steaming whirlpool that is my tub. It wants to work desperately and I'm not sure it will ever be the same. If not, I have to assure my boss that it was not a radical attempt to secure the same phone in hot pink instead of the aqua I currently possess.
I have had the kitchen faucet installed, the house de-furred and dusted, a new shoe rack assembled, a programmable thermostat mounted and 17 plants ensconced along my drive.
I arranged three business trips, 7 meetings, my funeral (should the worst occur) and completed four expense reports. I spent 2 hours washing dishes after our church picnic last Sunday. Tomorrow I usher, host a planning committee meeting and intend to see a movie. All with nothing but clear liquids to drink. I don't think wine is included in the list.
I am fairly certain I'm due for a couple of weeks off...even if it does entail radical surgery that will alter my life forever. I mean really??? Seriously? When did life get this hard?
Thank you as always for listening.
Cam
It was last Friday as I was watching TV, relaxing...chillin. Nothin' up for the evening... when an ad for Magnum Ice Cream made my mouth salivate over the creamy rich European vanilla ice cream, double coated in Belgian chocolate with a layer of caramel in between. My God it sounded like an orgasm on a stick! Hell, even the name Magnum brought certain connotations with it! So I think, why not? I've got nothing better to do at 10pm on a Friday night. So I Google the brand and very kindly it gave me a list of sellers within a 20 mile radius of my home. Walgreen's about 9 miles from my house seemed the closest.
So I set my Navigator with the address, choosing the back-roads instead of the freeway because I really don't like driving at night at 80 miles an hour anymore. I didn't realize it would add about 5 miles to my trip. And after driving along some very dark and country roads...I finally find heaven in the offing. And wouldn't you fucking know I picked the one Walgreen's on the planet that closes at 10pm.
Well now I'm on a mission. I am having ice cream by God! I'll go to Publix, the high-town grocery just down the road from my house. Surely they'll have something equally decadent to sink my taste buds into, right? But to hell with the back-roads, it's 10:30 now, and I just want sugar...a junkie overdosing on an imaginary high. It's not too long before I find the freeway and pick it up. I go about 5 exits down the road before I realize I am going the WRONG f'ing way! Seriously, I'm now 25 miles into my quest and farther than ever from home. So I turn around, literally now laughing like a mad woman at how crazy this would seem to any sane and rational person. I get off at the appropriate exit and make my way to the grocery store...and it's CLOSED! OMG! But do I take heed? Do I give up? Oh helllll no! In my peripheral vision I see the glowing neon sign of a Walgreen's oh but a few hundred yards away. Like a moth, I am driven to the calligraphy of the red glowing sign stating "OPEN 24 HOURS". And wouldn't you know...all but a lo 2 miles from my home I could have been satiated early and well - given they too carried the the crack-like cream I was so feverishly in need of. So like Gollum and his compulsive need to horde the One Ring, I giggled nervously on the way home - mentally savoring the heady vanilla, rich chocolate and buttery caramel about to cascade down my gullet.
At 11:35 last Friday night, after a 40 mile adventure, I wickedly tore at the paper covering, hoisted the Magnum bar to my mouth and thought...huh - I think Dove does this better. That was Friday.
Since then I have straightened the house, done the laundry, purchased $300 worth of shoes, a chair, a pillow, a belated mother's day gift, a new kitchen faucet, paid off a credit card, stuck a $1000 dollars into savings and stayed on the phone with friends way too late.
I have discovered my job is not quite as secure as I thought, I still don't want to quit smoking, am not ready to be off anti-depressants (went a little crazy for nine hours when I couldn't find my cat...many apologies to my neighbor when he finally came home), and I will always rationalize a way to pay somebody else to dust. I also discovered that real gunshots at 3 am really can cause a person to freak out just a little.
I have locked myself out of my car, lost my phone, found my phone and dropped my phone into a steaming whirlpool that is my tub. It wants to work desperately and I'm not sure it will ever be the same. If not, I have to assure my boss that it was not a radical attempt to secure the same phone in hot pink instead of the aqua I currently possess.
I have had the kitchen faucet installed, the house de-furred and dusted, a new shoe rack assembled, a programmable thermostat mounted and 17 plants ensconced along my drive.
I arranged three business trips, 7 meetings, my funeral (should the worst occur) and completed four expense reports. I spent 2 hours washing dishes after our church picnic last Sunday. Tomorrow I usher, host a planning committee meeting and intend to see a movie. All with nothing but clear liquids to drink. I don't think wine is included in the list.
I am fairly certain I'm due for a couple of weeks off...even if it does entail radical surgery that will alter my life forever. I mean really??? Seriously? When did life get this hard?
Thank you as always for listening.
Cam
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
T-14
So for someone who by all measure is in the 'summer' of her life, this morning I felt irrationally like I'm in the spring. The almost palpable sense of hope and impending bloom makes me feel a bit like a kid about to graduate from school. I find this incredibly stunning given the fact that just a year ago I began labeling myself as old and truly felt my best years were behind me. I saw living not a bad life...but a predictable and tepid one.
I am completely and utterly aware that no amount of surgery or weight loss will fix the ills of mind transfixed in an emotional status quo - but I do believe that optimism drives one to forge past the acceptance of a life live adequately to a life lived passionately.
I've never been one to see the glass half empty so it is a little sad to me that I allowed myself to view my actual life that way - but like a freakishly stubborn weed, my internal hope springs eternal! Several years ago I wrote a line in my diary that stated my heart was held together by hope and string. Maybe today it's a little closer to duck tape :)
So on my way to work today, as the morning air was still reasonably cool and the green was exploding in the hills around me, I thought about what I might hope for in my love life. Anyone who knows me knows I can pick real humdingers. I used to laugh and say that apparently my "want ad" for a man consisted of : "If you have no car, no job, no friends and DON'T want to have sex with me...I'm your girl!"
Trying to run on the assumption that I should actually put forward in a concrete and measurable way what I really do want in a man (should he exist) I came up with the following:
I am completely and utterly aware that no amount of surgery or weight loss will fix the ills of mind transfixed in an emotional status quo - but I do believe that optimism drives one to forge past the acceptance of a life live adequately to a life lived passionately.
I've never been one to see the glass half empty so it is a little sad to me that I allowed myself to view my actual life that way - but like a freakishly stubborn weed, my internal hope springs eternal! Several years ago I wrote a line in my diary that stated my heart was held together by hope and string. Maybe today it's a little closer to duck tape :)
So on my way to work today, as the morning air was still reasonably cool and the green was exploding in the hills around me, I thought about what I might hope for in my love life. Anyone who knows me knows I can pick real humdingers. I used to laugh and say that apparently my "want ad" for a man consisted of : "If you have no car, no job, no friends and DON'T want to have sex with me...I'm your girl!"
Trying to run on the assumption that I should actually put forward in a concrete and measurable way what I really do want in a man (should he exist) I came up with the following:
WANTED:
One self deprecatingly funny guy who knows his way around a tool box as much as his Xbox. Desperately seeking someone who understands what it is to be a real man – not in the macho sense of the word…but an old fashioned, responsible, kind but firm gentleman. Someone who sees relationships as a friendship as well as a romantic partnership. Someone who knows how to fight properly…i.e. sticks to the issue without making it personal, threatening to walk out or dredging up old crap. Also someone who finds it amusing that someone would use “i.e.” in a personal ad.
I want someone who will call me on my bullshit but finds it cute that I am so passionately obstinate even when I’m wrong. Someone who is willing to let me cry when I’m overwhelmed without needing to ‘fix’ the problem and quietly accepts that I habitually neglect to close doors, drawers and cabinets with any consistency.
Looking for a man who appreciates a girl with curves in all the right places…but accepts some curves in some wrong ones too. I want a man who enjoys good food, adequate exercise, and great political discourse…these are deal breakers! I want someone who is comfortable with who they are and knows what they want in life; hopefully someone who believes he already has most of what he wants and is willing to dry if I wash.
I am trying to find a man who believes in God without being zealous about it. Someone who likes that I go to church most Sundays and loves when I’d rather laze in bed. I want to meet someone who sees the cup as half full rather than half empty. That cool, dry evenings are meant to be shared on the deck with a bottle of wine and the occasional silence.
I want a guy who’d rather take a road trip than a plane trip – with the windows rolled down so I can stick my arm out the window and feel the air roll across my arm like the rolling of the waves. Who will smile at my tone deaf singing even though I think I sound great.
I need to find someone willing to occasionally sleep not just with me, but two big dogs and a couple of very needy cats….who will accept that I view them as family and secretly feel the same.
I want someone who listens to me well enough to understand I’d rather have a collector’s Ayn Rand than a piece of Tacori…and knows who John Gault is. Preferably someone who didn’t just Google them to figure that sentence out.
If you are out there…so am I.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
T-16
Wow - what an emotional week. Found out a favorite aunt had passed away. Had meant to go see her for the last two years since she only lived about 4 hours away in Alabama and you know, it was just one of those things "I'd get to tomorrow". So when I found out she was put into hospice, I was ready to go see her immediately. Or at least on Saturday.
Friday night I tried to reach her sons, my cousins, and got no answer. Some part of me knew it was too late...so on Saturday when I called to see if she was up for accepting visitors, the answer was...not so much. I was overwhelmed by how much this grieved me. Immediately I was in tears while talking to her son Thomas. And it felt so strange because he hardly knows me and I guess I hardly know him. Cousins and yet so much strangers.
When I called my folks to tell them that it was too late, I couldn't quit crying. Mom tried hard to tell me it was alright, that Aunt Caroline was ready to go. I told her I wasn't crying for her, I was crying for me. Crying that time is not elastic. That tomorrow's don't always come. I was crying for all sorts of regrets over the last few years of things I meant to do and didn't. Reminding me all the more of why I want to have this surgery.
I want to travel more. And a fat flyer is a miserable flyer. You find yourself grasping your elbows to your chest so that you don't spill over into your seatmate, making you all to aware that's there's a real reality to some airlines' desire to charge double to the chunky folk on their plains.
I want to see people I've been too embarrassed to see for five years. If you wonder why I haven't come to visit even when I'm in town...here's your answer. Most of you have seen me at my best. So hate to see you when I'm at my biggest. Deliberately didn't say my worst, because by so many measures...I'm at my best - just not physically. And that's the first thing we judge each other by. Even me. really. I swear I can be just as snarky as the rest. FYI...fat girls out there...do NOT wear spandex. It's rude to those around you. Also, sleeveless t's. It's like advertising mutton chops no one wants to think about.
So back to the funeral. So glad I went. No one loves to drive in silence as much as I do. I love reading road signs, billboards, free thinking to the wind. Spent time wondering about what I would like my own funeral to be like. What songs to play, what reading to read, what bit of me I could bring out so that it wasn't just so 'right'. I laughed at my Uncle Gary who said his daughter and I were 'deliberately unique.' I thought that was a wonderful label. I want my funeral to be cry, cry, cry...laugh, laugh, laugh. I want my stories told by the people who know and love me best. The ones that I tell at every happy hour and every stranger because they could only have happened to me.
So in this vein, I made my will. You'd be amazed at how little of value you have to give away - but there's stuff there you don't want forgotten. I don't expect to die on the table...though I had to sign away that possibility the other day. So just in case I thought I should at least be prepared. We should all be prepared. You never know when you will be hit by a bus.
So live large, eat small, and love boundlessly. I think this is a bit of what it's about.
Love Cam
Friday night I tried to reach her sons, my cousins, and got no answer. Some part of me knew it was too late...so on Saturday when I called to see if she was up for accepting visitors, the answer was...not so much. I was overwhelmed by how much this grieved me. Immediately I was in tears while talking to her son Thomas. And it felt so strange because he hardly knows me and I guess I hardly know him. Cousins and yet so much strangers.
When I called my folks to tell them that it was too late, I couldn't quit crying. Mom tried hard to tell me it was alright, that Aunt Caroline was ready to go. I told her I wasn't crying for her, I was crying for me. Crying that time is not elastic. That tomorrow's don't always come. I was crying for all sorts of regrets over the last few years of things I meant to do and didn't. Reminding me all the more of why I want to have this surgery.
I want to travel more. And a fat flyer is a miserable flyer. You find yourself grasping your elbows to your chest so that you don't spill over into your seatmate, making you all to aware that's there's a real reality to some airlines' desire to charge double to the chunky folk on their plains.
I want to see people I've been too embarrassed to see for five years. If you wonder why I haven't come to visit even when I'm in town...here's your answer. Most of you have seen me at my best. So hate to see you when I'm at my biggest. Deliberately didn't say my worst, because by so many measures...I'm at my best - just not physically. And that's the first thing we judge each other by. Even me. really. I swear I can be just as snarky as the rest. FYI...fat girls out there...do NOT wear spandex. It's rude to those around you. Also, sleeveless t's. It's like advertising mutton chops no one wants to think about.
So back to the funeral. So glad I went. No one loves to drive in silence as much as I do. I love reading road signs, billboards, free thinking to the wind. Spent time wondering about what I would like my own funeral to be like. What songs to play, what reading to read, what bit of me I could bring out so that it wasn't just so 'right'. I laughed at my Uncle Gary who said his daughter and I were 'deliberately unique.' I thought that was a wonderful label. I want my funeral to be cry, cry, cry...laugh, laugh, laugh. I want my stories told by the people who know and love me best. The ones that I tell at every happy hour and every stranger because they could only have happened to me.
So in this vein, I made my will. You'd be amazed at how little of value you have to give away - but there's stuff there you don't want forgotten. I don't expect to die on the table...though I had to sign away that possibility the other day. So just in case I thought I should at least be prepared. We should all be prepared. You never know when you will be hit by a bus.
So live large, eat small, and love boundlessly. I think this is a bit of what it's about.
Love Cam
Saturday, April 30, 2011
T-24
beautiful and sad day today. My dear Aunt Carolyn passed away last night. She was who I was hoping to visit in Alabama today. Day late and a dollar short. Literally.
I was following up on an expence reimbursement (essentially, I spent my mortgage on Easter flowers) when I happened upon a wonderful conversation with a church mate I rarely get to speak with at length. He had a miracle story to share. I had nothing but a weird dream about a pair of trained (but hungry) alligators I decided to buy and my ideas about how to keep them fed enough so they wouldn't eat the six bunny's and three cats I also had. Oh, and all of them I was hiding in the luxory mobile home of my feaux-boss. I swear I was in no way intoxicated or medicated before bed. I had however finally figured out how to download Angry Birds.
I was following up on an expence reimbursement (essentially, I spent my mortgage on Easter flowers) when I happened upon a wonderful conversation with a church mate I rarely get to speak with at length. He had a miracle story to share. I had nothing but a weird dream about a pair of trained (but hungry) alligators I decided to buy and my ideas about how to keep them fed enough so they wouldn't eat the six bunny's and three cats I also had. Oh, and all of them I was hiding in the luxory mobile home of my feaux-boss. I swear I was in no way intoxicated or medicated before bed. I had however finally figured out how to download Angry Birds.
Friday, April 29, 2011
T-25
So it was a really long week. Had a fabulous time picking out $1200 worth of gorgeous flowers at the wholesale market to adorn the church for Easter Sunday and then spent the next eight hours with my "team" making the most stunning arrangements.
Sunday I really meant to get up and go to the Sunrise Service at 6 am, but yeah...that didn't work out so much. I woke up at 5:30, said a quick "sorry Jesus" and went back to sleep. I had already spent an hour keeping vigil at 2:30 am on Friday morning and I was just too damn exhausted.
Finally made it there at 8:30, helped set up for our Easter breakfast, cleaned up after and then had to usher. It was a packed house.
I kept thinking that Jesus has one last supper and I get to have like 20! Oh yeah - I'm taking full advantage of the time between now and surgery. I've ordered pizza, had Chinese, sushi, Thai noodles, umpteen glasses of wine, and anything you can put cheese on.
Two weeks before surgery it'll be nothing but protein shakes, chicken and veggies, so might as well get it while the getting's good.
Monday met up with a friend and had a couple of really yummy beers and caught up. Hadn't seen her in a while. She was passing on a ticket to see Shrek-the Musical. Highly recommend for those with with kids. I mean, I enjoyed it, but could really see how a kid would be enthralled. Saw that on Tuesday at The Fox. Similar genre to The Paramount in Austin.
Smoking has been the big challenge. Giving up caffeine was actually way easier than I thought...but the old rush of smoke filling the lungs is the hard one. I keep saying 'tomorrow' and then freaking out and buying another pack. Totally sucks.
I'm driving to Tuscaloosa tomorrow to visit a dying aunt and know I'll blow through a pack in the car, so not even trying to kid myself about that one. Maybe Sunday :)
Am so pleased that every time I share what I've decided to do, everyone is really happy and excited for me. And it seems everyone knows someone who has been through the procedure with positive results. I eventually quit looking at some of the blog sites because I've found a bunch of whiners. I feel bad for them, I truly do...but I think a lot of those people had very unrealistic expectations about how this one thing was going to change their lives. Yes, I think this will change my life - but only because I think I've done so much of the head work already. And probably more will be needed.
I keep having weird dreams about my ex. Not pleasant either. I'm sure this is my subconscious working out all sorts of underlying fears about boys - which is so much a part of why I'm here in the first place. But am just accepting it's all irrational and moving on.
In fact, I think it's ironic that the surgery date will be virtually 10 years to the day of my wedding. The last time I looked and felt truly beautiful. It's like a decade of recovering from that decision has lead to this one.
Oh - and I crack myself up! We had to get photos done for our church directory tonight. I was thinking how sad it was that I will hate the photo and then all of a sudden I decided to have fun with the idea. When you all get New Years cards from me next year that say 'hope next year is better than the last' you'll get the joke :)
Anyway - thanks for listening. Everyone has said 'keep me posted' so this seems like the easiest way to do it. And yes Stephanie...I did Google 'how to create a blog' moments after we hung up the phone. Much easier than anticipated!
T-25 and counting!
Cam
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