Music: Avira
7:55a
It's been so long since I posted anything here. But posting to Facebook just feels wired. I then remembered "oh, hey, I had a blog!" So I guess I'm back? Thank God the site still had me logged in, even though it's been a couple years at least...because I did NOT remember my log in!
2020 has been weird to say the least. Kobe Bryant, people getting shot over a chicken sandwich, murder hornets, and Covid 19, this year has been interesting. Like so many, I'm ready for 2020 to be over.
So what have I been doing with my time? Well, not a lot, really, what with the world being closed. I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do with school, and I think I have an idea. I work Doordash on the side right now for some extra money, since John got furloughed in February. My other job keeps me busy as well. We're trying to survive and keep our lights on, like everyone else, and hoping this virus at least slows its roll. I miss going places and hanging out with friends and family.
For now, I'm gonna sit here and drink my coffee and get ready for another day. That, and ponder why my fish think it's funny to splash me when I'm trying to feed them. Y'all be kind to each other today, because God knows we all need some of that in the world right now....
Saturday, July 18, 2020
Monday, May 29, 2017
Alone Tonight
Music: "Home" - Above and Beyond
12:30a
I've started several of these over the past six months, only to stop halfway through, promise I'll come back to it later, but never do. So what else is there to do now but write: things have changed so much over the past year, and time is never on my side. Solution? Make time, or in my case, kill some time to get rid of the boredom, or hope I get tired enough to actually go to bed.
I've been awake since 2:30 a.m. yesterday, 24 hours. It's Sunday night, and I should have been dead hours ago after another long work week(end), but I'm not the least bit tired. I've been fighting off a severe allergy attack since last Saturday, and add that with the fun (hell) of being a female, and my body is seriously out of whack. So here I sit, in the quiet of the apartment, going crazy, late at night, wishing a magic fairy would come down from wherever and grant me my voice back. First day in over a week that I actually feel better, back to normal, and I get laryngitis. How's this a fair trade? Singers suffer a lot more I think, and believe me, I'm feeling it. I can feel how inflamed my vocal chords are, and it hurts to so much as swallow. I've downed a half bottle of honey since I've been home, because that's all my cheap ass has in this house. People at work asking me if I was okay, not being able to scream at people or flag down lift drivers at the top of my lungs when others are scared to so much as shout. It's fun and I love having a big set of lungs, more fun when I see people's reactions who aren't used to it. I'm a Libra so socializing comes naturally, though I'm still shy at times, so this, simply put, sucks. Telling me to shut my mouth is like telling a tornado to stop trashing a mobile home park. Impossible.
Backing up a bit (or a lot), last year was great. I saw Alabama again, visited a new city and saw Atlanta for the first time that I actually remember. Bought myself a brand new car (Nissan Sentra) that I am head over heels in love with (thanks, Alabama trip, and Enterprise for switching rentals on me 10 hours before I was due to leave for Birmingham..I could be driving a Toyota right now *gasp*). She is now my prized possession and I am a happy, happy owner. My little Chevy Cobalt went on to Chevy Retirement in Florida (I'm kidding, I traded her in and she went wherever still-in-great-condition-vehicles go). During the summer, my sister rescued the sweetest little dog from the complex she was working at, and my parents (and I) adopted her. She's a Maltipoo named Mandy. While we were working at getting her acclimated and used to having a dog again, my dad suddenly was admitted into a hospital and had to have surgery. In the midst of all this, I finally got my braces off (on to retainers, same setup), and put in an application for and got approved for an apartment. Two months later, I was moved in and unprepared for the holidays. A week before Christmas, John moved in with me. We'd had it planned for a while. I can't do the alone thing, and that's partly why I've been so depressed this week, besides being sick.
John recently got a new job where he is constantly on the road, and lo and behold, he happened to be gone when I got sick this week. I spent my week inside, too sick to do anything, too tired to do anything (although I did keep myself fed). No one to take care of me or force me to take medicine ( I can be stubborn), or make me food. I had no one to really talk to because I couldn't speak (sore throat), and if I wanted to have company to take away some of the loneliness, how could I live with myself if I got them sick? So I became depressed and actually wanted to go back to work. How well that worked out: I called in on Friday, worked my ass off on Saturday, and lost my voice today. I come home and get even more depressed because I can't speak above a whisper and don't want to be alone. It's storming outside, I'm a wreck, and no one to really talk to or can talk to, literally. I'll be spending Memorial Day alone, unless I get to feeling better and can actually get out of the house. Like I said, I hate being alone, and for too long, and it's been two weeks. I'm so used to being surrounded by people and noise, that living on my own really is different. Too quiet. Not used to the quiet. Won't ever be used to the quiet. Quiet is not for me. Being alone is not for me. I can't wait for John to come home for a couple of days, and hopefully I'll be able to talk!
24 hours. My throat hurts from coughing and overuse. I give up. I'm going to bed. Happy Memorial Day and hopefully you don't have to spend it sick like me.
12:30a
I've started several of these over the past six months, only to stop halfway through, promise I'll come back to it later, but never do. So what else is there to do now but write: things have changed so much over the past year, and time is never on my side. Solution? Make time, or in my case, kill some time to get rid of the boredom, or hope I get tired enough to actually go to bed.
I've been awake since 2:30 a.m. yesterday, 24 hours. It's Sunday night, and I should have been dead hours ago after another long work week(end), but I'm not the least bit tired. I've been fighting off a severe allergy attack since last Saturday, and add that with the fun (hell) of being a female, and my body is seriously out of whack. So here I sit, in the quiet of the apartment, going crazy, late at night, wishing a magic fairy would come down from wherever and grant me my voice back. First day in over a week that I actually feel better, back to normal, and I get laryngitis. How's this a fair trade? Singers suffer a lot more I think, and believe me, I'm feeling it. I can feel how inflamed my vocal chords are, and it hurts to so much as swallow. I've downed a half bottle of honey since I've been home, because that's all my cheap ass has in this house. People at work asking me if I was okay, not being able to scream at people or flag down lift drivers at the top of my lungs when others are scared to so much as shout. It's fun and I love having a big set of lungs, more fun when I see people's reactions who aren't used to it. I'm a Libra so socializing comes naturally, though I'm still shy at times, so this, simply put, sucks. Telling me to shut my mouth is like telling a tornado to stop trashing a mobile home park. Impossible.
Backing up a bit (or a lot), last year was great. I saw Alabama again, visited a new city and saw Atlanta for the first time that I actually remember. Bought myself a brand new car (Nissan Sentra) that I am head over heels in love with (thanks, Alabama trip, and Enterprise for switching rentals on me 10 hours before I was due to leave for Birmingham..I could be driving a Toyota right now *gasp*). She is now my prized possession and I am a happy, happy owner. My little Chevy Cobalt went on to Chevy Retirement in Florida (I'm kidding, I traded her in and she went wherever still-in-great-condition-vehicles go). During the summer, my sister rescued the sweetest little dog from the complex she was working at, and my parents (and I) adopted her. She's a Maltipoo named Mandy. While we were working at getting her acclimated and used to having a dog again, my dad suddenly was admitted into a hospital and had to have surgery. In the midst of all this, I finally got my braces off (on to retainers, same setup), and put in an application for and got approved for an apartment. Two months later, I was moved in and unprepared for the holidays. A week before Christmas, John moved in with me. We'd had it planned for a while. I can't do the alone thing, and that's partly why I've been so depressed this week, besides being sick.
John recently got a new job where he is constantly on the road, and lo and behold, he happened to be gone when I got sick this week. I spent my week inside, too sick to do anything, too tired to do anything (although I did keep myself fed). No one to take care of me or force me to take medicine ( I can be stubborn), or make me food. I had no one to really talk to because I couldn't speak (sore throat), and if I wanted to have company to take away some of the loneliness, how could I live with myself if I got them sick? So I became depressed and actually wanted to go back to work. How well that worked out: I called in on Friday, worked my ass off on Saturday, and lost my voice today. I come home and get even more depressed because I can't speak above a whisper and don't want to be alone. It's storming outside, I'm a wreck, and no one to really talk to or can talk to, literally. I'll be spending Memorial Day alone, unless I get to feeling better and can actually get out of the house. Like I said, I hate being alone, and for too long, and it's been two weeks. I'm so used to being surrounded by people and noise, that living on my own really is different. Too quiet. Not used to the quiet. Won't ever be used to the quiet. Quiet is not for me. Being alone is not for me. I can't wait for John to come home for a couple of days, and hopefully I'll be able to talk!
24 hours. My throat hurts from coughing and overuse. I give up. I'm going to bed. Happy Memorial Day and hopefully you don't have to spend it sick like me.
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Ala-bay-mia (or Alabama for short) (3)
5:40p
Random music
After an absolutely amazing Sunday, I woke up Monday and decided that I'd wait one more day before travelling back home. John was hoping to maybe take another shot at the Battleship, and I'd still have a couple of days to relax before returning to work.
I spent the day packing and watching over the dog. John didn't get off until late, so there went my last opportunity for the ship. We took the newly named pup, Bo (short for something that I'll forever hate my boyfriend for, Botox...GRRR) up to Petsmart to get some supplies. Everyone she came in contact with absolutely loved her, petting and playing with her. I had leash duty, and it was fun watching her try to get away. We left and got in the Jeep, and Bo, such a tiny thing then, fell asleep in my lap. John and I decided on doing wings again on my last night in town. The draw? Peanut Butter and Jelly wings. Sit on that for a minute. We pulled up and John got out to go fix our order, leaving me in the Jeep with the dog. We got back into the hotel, and started pigging out. The PB&J wings weren't half bad. As far as attempt number three at the Wii? Fail. I double checked all my stuff, and John helped me load a few things before going to bed.
The next morning, I got up with John to tell him goodbye, and I got a few more hours sleep before I had to get up to get ready. I couldn't believe the day was here already; I didn't want to leave. I loaded up the rest of my stuff, and hooked up all the electronics and chargers in the Cobalt, and walked Bo one last time. After telling her goodbye, I left my hotel key on the table, and let the door shut behind me. It was official: time to come home. I left a little later than I wanted to, 10:30, but I knew it wasn't going to be long before I'd be home. I was through Mississippi in an hour, and Louisiana wasn't nearly as bad this time around, hardly any rain....until I got back to Texas and was greeted by, yes, rain! I watched the towering thunderhead all the way from Lake Charles, and hoped I'd be missing it.
It was 6:30 by the time I made it home, and after unloading the essentials, I called it an early night. This was the first vacation I'd taken alone, the furthest I'd ever driven, and I didn't regret a single thing. I told myself I could do it again. This vacation was amazing, emotional, fun, beautiful, scary, and quite a learning experience......
And I was super ready to do it again.
Random music
After an absolutely amazing Sunday, I woke up Monday and decided that I'd wait one more day before travelling back home. John was hoping to maybe take another shot at the Battleship, and I'd still have a couple of days to relax before returning to work.
I spent the day packing and watching over the dog. John didn't get off until late, so there went my last opportunity for the ship. We took the newly named pup, Bo (short for something that I'll forever hate my boyfriend for, Botox...GRRR) up to Petsmart to get some supplies. Everyone she came in contact with absolutely loved her, petting and playing with her. I had leash duty, and it was fun watching her try to get away. We left and got in the Jeep, and Bo, such a tiny thing then, fell asleep in my lap. John and I decided on doing wings again on my last night in town. The draw? Peanut Butter and Jelly wings. Sit on that for a minute. We pulled up and John got out to go fix our order, leaving me in the Jeep with the dog. We got back into the hotel, and started pigging out. The PB&J wings weren't half bad. As far as attempt number three at the Wii? Fail. I double checked all my stuff, and John helped me load a few things before going to bed.
The next morning, I got up with John to tell him goodbye, and I got a few more hours sleep before I had to get up to get ready. I couldn't believe the day was here already; I didn't want to leave. I loaded up the rest of my stuff, and hooked up all the electronics and chargers in the Cobalt, and walked Bo one last time. After telling her goodbye, I left my hotel key on the table, and let the door shut behind me. It was official: time to come home. I left a little later than I wanted to, 10:30, but I knew it wasn't going to be long before I'd be home. I was through Mississippi in an hour, and Louisiana wasn't nearly as bad this time around, hardly any rain....until I got back to Texas and was greeted by, yes, rain! I watched the towering thunderhead all the way from Lake Charles, and hoped I'd be missing it.
It was 6:30 by the time I made it home, and after unloading the essentials, I called it an early night. This was the first vacation I'd taken alone, the furthest I'd ever driven, and I didn't regret a single thing. I told myself I could do it again. This vacation was amazing, emotional, fun, beautiful, scary, and quite a learning experience......
And I was super ready to do it again.
Monday, June 6, 2016
Ala-bay-mia (or Alabama for short) (2)
Music: ASOT
it's late, that's all I know. Coffee, anyone?
Saturday, after sleeping through John crashing around the hotel getting ready for work, I woke up in a much better mood. I heated up some breakfast, and took a long bath in the huge spa tub that could probably fit 10 people. I took my time getting ready, and decided I'd take a solo tour around town, explore. The main thoroughfare in town is similar to 1960 back home in Houston; very busy. Mobile is a nice town, lots of eats and new places I'd never seen before, just wish I'd had more time to explore. I found a Checkers and stopped for lunch. I wish they'd open one again back home. Their fries are the best. I went back to the hotel and took my medication (it's hard to stay on a strict diet when you're away from home), and found a movie on TV. John got 'home' and we took off to get my money back on those tires. They tried to say no at first, but finally I got a refund. We ran a couple more errands, and went back to the hotel to switch vehicles. We were wanting dinner, and John suggested a wing place that Houston doesn't have. We ate and tried a few of the drinks on their menu. It was a nice night out. Once back at the hotel, we attempted to break open the Wii so we could play before calling it a night, but neither of us made it past the initial set up.
The plan was to be up early the next morning, since John had the day off, and go to breakfast somewhere. I slept right through the alarm (not normal for me), and even John tried to get me to get up. So we ended up getting a little later start. The plan was to hit up the Battleship, then try to make the drive into Florida. It was one of my ultimate goals on this trip. After a nice brunch at Cracker Barrel, we went to another co-workers home in north Mobile. His dog had a litter of puppies, Bloodhounds, and John was to be adopting one of them. Originally planned for the baby, John saw it would be nice to have a companion for when he's on the road. So we went by to pay them a visit, but I was so eager to be getting on the road, and we were losing daylight. The dogs were cute, and I know it would make John happy, and it was another way to help him grieve. I was happy, too, because technically, she'd be half mine, too (he was adopting a girl). I saw her parents and thought holy shit this dog will be huge. I loved watching her play and run around. After some chatting with the co-worker and my growing impatience (babe...it's Florida...), we headed for the Battleship park.
The park was beautiful, sitting right on the water, and you could see I10 for miles. We were late though; the entrance to the Battleship itself closed a half hour before. I was disappointed. I really wanted to come here. Let down after let down.....However, we were able to walk around the park, as they had a bunch of decommissioned jets and tanks and planes. Got some good pictures. John even described some of the Coast Guard stuff laying around: a plane and a rescue boat. So, with nothing else to lose and going as far as we could around the park, we started making the drive into Florida. The route was boring; lots of nothing to see but trees. We saw the welcome sign about an hour later, and we stopped off at the welcome center. We were very close to Pensacola. Was cool seeing a Blue Angel plane in front. Continuing on, we hit Pensacola and found a local Starbucks, so we stopped off. John got us some drinks, and he bought some cups and tumblers for Christmas gifts, and he bought both of us a Florida collector's mug (these mugs are awesome, and you can pretty much find them for every city/state). A souvenir! It now sits proudly on my souvenir/shot glass collection shelf.
We decided to go explore the city (beach) before it got too dark. I was on the edge of my seat the entire time; everything was so new, and beautiful! We drove on the longest bridge/causeway I'd ever been on, headed for the island. The sun was starting to set, and seeing it over the bay was awesome. We passed through Gulf Breeze, continuing south. Once we hit the actual island, the scenery really came to life. Not like Galveston, but some of the same stuff you'd find at the beach; lots of shops and eats. So much color...
John is pretty Florida-savvy, and he kept driving. I was anxious to step foot on the actual beach, but I tried to stay patient and trust that John knew where he was going. It was getting dark, so I couldn't see a whole lot, but just being there and up to this point was awesome. John finally pulled into an empty parking lot, and in front of me was a bunch of brush and tall wispy weeds/brush. I knew we were here. I'd packed a bag with a change of beach clothes just for walking around, but I forgot all about it. I didn't care anymore. I had one goal. We got out of the Jeep and I saw there was a very long wooden bridge leading down to the beach. Hand in hand, we started to make the trek down the bridge, and I had to stop in my tracks. Laid out in front of me was miles and miles of the most beautiful beach I'd ever seen. Just beautiful. There was too much to take in. The pull was too strong and I couldn't wait anymore; I squealed and took off. I don't even think John cared; he probably enjoyed watching my reactions more than the beach itself! The sand was so clean, so soft, cool to the touch. Wait, when did my shoes come off? I hit the water at top speed and it was so warm and clean and inviting, and I wished it had been a little earlier; the sun was almost completely lost in the western sky, casting the last bit of a beautiful glow down the beach. I could almost still see the beautiful blue/green of the water, even in the darkness. It was breathtaking.
John had caught up to me, and I was racing up and down the shore, splashing and kicking and squealing and having the time of my life. I had to keep my pant legs pulled up to avoid getting soaked, making for an even funnier scene. There was not one soul on that beach, it was like our own private place, which made it all the more intimate for such a huge span. John didn't say anything, just watched and played in the water and trying to splash me. Just letting me completely soak in everything. He stopped me and took my hand, and we walked out into the water, not very far, as we were on an unfamiliar beach and unsure of how far and how deep the water was. He pointed out something and it was then I noticed what was missing:
The water didn't have that nasty/salty smell like on Galveston. It was fresh, the way a beach is supposed to be. We stood there forever, letting our senses take in everything. I looked up at the sky; it was perfectly clear, and you could see every star and constellation. I remembered why I was here and seeing this made me thankful for life, as I thought of my daughter and knowing she was happy to see me happy. I didn't feel the weight of the stress or sadness or anything else, just complete happiness: I haven't felt that way in a very long time. I was almost dizzy from the feeling of almost being weightless. The beach felt like a piece of Heaven itself, and I never wanted it to end. John and I walked a little ways up and down the edge of the water, hand in hand and stopping every once in a while to see the ships way out on the horizon. It was too dark to try to find any shells hidden in the sand.
I knew it was getting late, and John had to work tomorrow. We took one last splash and started making our way across back up to the bridge. I took one last look back before the beach disappeared behind the trees, and I knew I'd remember this night for the rest of my life. A picture of the same beach we were on (only this one is in the daylight) is now forever set as my lock screen on my phone, and every time I see it, I smile. It's still so clear and vivid, even now, months later, and I can still feel the cool touch of the sand, and still hear the sound of the waves.
We started making our way back across the causeway, and John told me he knew the beach might be deserted. He used to come to this area often. After some confusion and both of us pulling out our GPS's, we found a Walmart back off the interstate, hoping they'd have souvenirs, another goal of ours. I got some shot glasses, a postcard, and keychain, and John got some gifts for family and some mugs for him. Heading back to Alabama, we were replaying the events of the day and I knew he was beyond tired, but he told me it was definitely worth it, and we'd have to plan a trip back with a longer stay. I don't remember getting back to the hotel, or getting into bed.
I dreamed of the water that night; the sounds and the colors, but we weren't alone...there was a feeling of another presence, splashing and laughing right along with us...
it's late, that's all I know. Coffee, anyone?
Saturday, after sleeping through John crashing around the hotel getting ready for work, I woke up in a much better mood. I heated up some breakfast, and took a long bath in the huge spa tub that could probably fit 10 people. I took my time getting ready, and decided I'd take a solo tour around town, explore. The main thoroughfare in town is similar to 1960 back home in Houston; very busy. Mobile is a nice town, lots of eats and new places I'd never seen before, just wish I'd had more time to explore. I found a Checkers and stopped for lunch. I wish they'd open one again back home. Their fries are the best. I went back to the hotel and took my medication (it's hard to stay on a strict diet when you're away from home), and found a movie on TV. John got 'home' and we took off to get my money back on those tires. They tried to say no at first, but finally I got a refund. We ran a couple more errands, and went back to the hotel to switch vehicles. We were wanting dinner, and John suggested a wing place that Houston doesn't have. We ate and tried a few of the drinks on their menu. It was a nice night out. Once back at the hotel, we attempted to break open the Wii so we could play before calling it a night, but neither of us made it past the initial set up.
The plan was to be up early the next morning, since John had the day off, and go to breakfast somewhere. I slept right through the alarm (not normal for me), and even John tried to get me to get up. So we ended up getting a little later start. The plan was to hit up the Battleship, then try to make the drive into Florida. It was one of my ultimate goals on this trip. After a nice brunch at Cracker Barrel, we went to another co-workers home in north Mobile. His dog had a litter of puppies, Bloodhounds, and John was to be adopting one of them. Originally planned for the baby, John saw it would be nice to have a companion for when he's on the road. So we went by to pay them a visit, but I was so eager to be getting on the road, and we were losing daylight. The dogs were cute, and I know it would make John happy, and it was another way to help him grieve. I was happy, too, because technically, she'd be half mine, too (he was adopting a girl). I saw her parents and thought holy shit this dog will be huge. I loved watching her play and run around. After some chatting with the co-worker and my growing impatience (babe...it's Florida...), we headed for the Battleship park.
The park was beautiful, sitting right on the water, and you could see I10 for miles. We were late though; the entrance to the Battleship itself closed a half hour before. I was disappointed. I really wanted to come here. Let down after let down.....However, we were able to walk around the park, as they had a bunch of decommissioned jets and tanks and planes. Got some good pictures. John even described some of the Coast Guard stuff laying around: a plane and a rescue boat. So, with nothing else to lose and going as far as we could around the park, we started making the drive into Florida. The route was boring; lots of nothing to see but trees. We saw the welcome sign about an hour later, and we stopped off at the welcome center. We were very close to Pensacola. Was cool seeing a Blue Angel plane in front. Continuing on, we hit Pensacola and found a local Starbucks, so we stopped off. John got us some drinks, and he bought some cups and tumblers for Christmas gifts, and he bought both of us a Florida collector's mug (these mugs are awesome, and you can pretty much find them for every city/state). A souvenir! It now sits proudly on my souvenir/shot glass collection shelf.
We decided to go explore the city (beach) before it got too dark. I was on the edge of my seat the entire time; everything was so new, and beautiful! We drove on the longest bridge/causeway I'd ever been on, headed for the island. The sun was starting to set, and seeing it over the bay was awesome. We passed through Gulf Breeze, continuing south. Once we hit the actual island, the scenery really came to life. Not like Galveston, but some of the same stuff you'd find at the beach; lots of shops and eats. So much color...
John is pretty Florida-savvy, and he kept driving. I was anxious to step foot on the actual beach, but I tried to stay patient and trust that John knew where he was going. It was getting dark, so I couldn't see a whole lot, but just being there and up to this point was awesome. John finally pulled into an empty parking lot, and in front of me was a bunch of brush and tall wispy weeds/brush. I knew we were here. I'd packed a bag with a change of beach clothes just for walking around, but I forgot all about it. I didn't care anymore. I had one goal. We got out of the Jeep and I saw there was a very long wooden bridge leading down to the beach. Hand in hand, we started to make the trek down the bridge, and I had to stop in my tracks. Laid out in front of me was miles and miles of the most beautiful beach I'd ever seen. Just beautiful. There was too much to take in. The pull was too strong and I couldn't wait anymore; I squealed and took off. I don't even think John cared; he probably enjoyed watching my reactions more than the beach itself! The sand was so clean, so soft, cool to the touch. Wait, when did my shoes come off? I hit the water at top speed and it was so warm and clean and inviting, and I wished it had been a little earlier; the sun was almost completely lost in the western sky, casting the last bit of a beautiful glow down the beach. I could almost still see the beautiful blue/green of the water, even in the darkness. It was breathtaking.
John had caught up to me, and I was racing up and down the shore, splashing and kicking and squealing and having the time of my life. I had to keep my pant legs pulled up to avoid getting soaked, making for an even funnier scene. There was not one soul on that beach, it was like our own private place, which made it all the more intimate for such a huge span. John didn't say anything, just watched and played in the water and trying to splash me. Just letting me completely soak in everything. He stopped me and took my hand, and we walked out into the water, not very far, as we were on an unfamiliar beach and unsure of how far and how deep the water was. He pointed out something and it was then I noticed what was missing:
The water didn't have that nasty/salty smell like on Galveston. It was fresh, the way a beach is supposed to be. We stood there forever, letting our senses take in everything. I looked up at the sky; it was perfectly clear, and you could see every star and constellation. I remembered why I was here and seeing this made me thankful for life, as I thought of my daughter and knowing she was happy to see me happy. I didn't feel the weight of the stress or sadness or anything else, just complete happiness: I haven't felt that way in a very long time. I was almost dizzy from the feeling of almost being weightless. The beach felt like a piece of Heaven itself, and I never wanted it to end. John and I walked a little ways up and down the edge of the water, hand in hand and stopping every once in a while to see the ships way out on the horizon. It was too dark to try to find any shells hidden in the sand.
I knew it was getting late, and John had to work tomorrow. We took one last splash and started making our way across back up to the bridge. I took one last look back before the beach disappeared behind the trees, and I knew I'd remember this night for the rest of my life. A picture of the same beach we were on (only this one is in the daylight) is now forever set as my lock screen on my phone, and every time I see it, I smile. It's still so clear and vivid, even now, months later, and I can still feel the cool touch of the sand, and still hear the sound of the waves.
We started making our way back across the causeway, and John told me he knew the beach might be deserted. He used to come to this area often. After some confusion and both of us pulling out our GPS's, we found a Walmart back off the interstate, hoping they'd have souvenirs, another goal of ours. I got some shot glasses, a postcard, and keychain, and John got some gifts for family and some mugs for him. Heading back to Alabama, we were replaying the events of the day and I knew he was beyond tired, but he told me it was definitely worth it, and we'd have to plan a trip back with a longer stay. I don't remember getting back to the hotel, or getting into bed.
I dreamed of the water that night; the sounds and the colors, but we weren't alone...there was a feeling of another presence, splashing and laughing right along with us...
Monday, February 1, 2016
Ala-bay-mia. (or Alabama for short) (1)
Music: "Simple and Clean" (Kingdom Hearts) PlanitB Remix- Utada Hikaru
11:30p
(written late October)
Life as an adult is great, isn't it? It's a never ending cycle of things that need to get done, only to get even more things shoved at you before you can accomplish the other aforementioned things. You get up, try not to die, and go to bed. Yup, adult life is great.
Seriously, though, it's been a good month.
After finding out that the gastroenterologist I was supposed to see had unexpectedly left on a permanent hiatus, my nurse, Pat, set me up with another specialist for two weeks from that day. After ANOTHER round of blood work (I've lost count now-the hcg levels are going down since the operation, which is a good sign), I went home and focused on the task of packing for Alabama. I burned some CD's, (since iTunes was pissing me off, and ordering a new MP3 player was just pissing me off even more), and tried not to worry about the car. Two days before I was due to leave (the day of the doctor's appointment, to be exact), I noticed a vibration coming from the front end of my car. Great. Just great. I took the car to Frank, who confirmed that all four tires would need replacing soon, and the front passenger tire had a bad spot on it, but that he didn't see a problem with it getting to Alabama. I know I was due to have some other work on it, but they promised me it could wait. And dealerships are expensive as it is.
While Frank was re-balancing my tires for my peace of mind, I ran in to Walmart to grab a few last-minute things. I realized that I was going somewhere I'd never been before. I'd been on the route, but only as a passenger, never a driver (and I was three at the time). My phone had been acting up, and I thought Verizon had fixed the issue, so I really didn't feel comfortable using my phone's GPS. I went and looked at Walmart's GPS systems. I found a good one for a good price, and figured I'd use some of the bonus money coming in that week, and decided it would be an early birthday present to myself. So glad I did that...it would come in handy later (maybe).
I got the okay on the car, and went home to finish packing. I was nervous, excited, and anxious to get to John, but the drive was all I could think about. I did sleep well that night. The next morning, I loaded up the car, and hooked everything up for easy access on the road. After a quick fill-up, and a prayer, I was off. I knew that once I got past Orange, I'd be in unfamiliar territory, as I hadn't seen this route since I was three, and I remember nothing of our drives to South Carolina. The trip started out with no hiccups. However, once I got into Louisiana, all hell broke loose. I had taken to catching 18-wheelers, riding along with them, just cruising and in no real hurry. It started raining not too far past Lake Charles, and things just went downhill from there. The rain was so bad at one point, that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. I could see nothing around me, nor barely in front of me. I didn't even know if I was in my lane anymore. The thing that saved me was the current trucker I'd picked up. We were in the center lane (maybe). I noticed everyone was slowing way down, and had turned on their emergency flashers. I did the same. I couldn't see anything, except the outline of the 18-wheeler, and its tail lights. I didn't know what to do, or what I should do. Do I pull over? But I thought, with the rain so bad, I can't even see what lane is what, and if I did by some miracle, make it to the shoulder, what if a car hit me because they also couldn't see? I kept the outline of the 18-wheeler in the dead center of my windshield, and used him as my guide. The rain never let up. Never seen anything like it in my life; not on the road. It finally did, though, and I was hoping that was the last of the bad weather.
I needed to take a break and get my bearings back, so I stopped off in Jennings for something to eat. I pulled off into the parking lot and sat in the car, facing back west where I'd left the rain behind. The storm was moving fast, and I definitely didn't want to do THAT again (and I wasn't storm and RADAR equipped, the only thing on my person was my smartphone...lesson learned for next time), so I finished eating and was back on the road. Not too long after, I was doing 65, and there was a really significant wobble that came from the front end, enough to send a jolt of fear through me. You've got to be kidding. I'm going to die before I make it to Mobile, either from the blinding rain, or from a blowout. The rest of the trip, I had to do either 60 or 70, and anything in between would randomly throw out a period of huge vibrations. I'm getting these damn tires replaced when I get to Mobile, come hell or high water (no pun intended).
The rain never quit. I'd hit periods of heavy rain, then it would dwindle, then pick back up again. Once I hit Baton Rouge and crossed over the big bridge, I hit some traffic. Sitting on the peak of the bridge, I came to a dead stop. The car started vibrating violently, like it was going to shake apart. What the hell? I thought it was the swaying of the bridge, but it was the car, and I thought for sure it was going to die or overheat right there. I'm too far away for anyone to come get me, and I was freaking out by this point. I had to keep inching forward, to keep moving, because for some reason that's the only thing that would stop the violent vibrating, but traffic was too heavy and I almost bumped another trucker. I got over the bridge and reached my goal of finding I-12. Once I crossed onto the 100-mile bridge (SLIGHT exaggeration there), the rain took over again and I just kept my current trucker in my box. I was praying the car would get me there. Now off work, John called and asked for updates every so often. He was worried. I kept calm, though I was freaking out inside.
I eventually made it back to I-10 again, so I knew I was getting close to Mississippi. Thank God. Louisiana treated me like shit, so yeah, fuck you and stuff. Takes forever to cross that damn state. Once I crossed the state line, I FINALLY had a break from the rain; the sun even came out. An hour later, and I all but jumped out of my (car) seat when I saw the welcome sign for Alabama. So close! The GPS was really good, and I didn't need it except for the I-12/I-10 exits. I knew I was to be looking for I-65 into Mobile, and by this time, John was on the phone helping me. Somehow, I missed the turn off. Damn GPS! I missed the two exit lanes, so I had to do a strange U-turn. 10 minutes into this damn state, and I'm already lost and confused. Once I hit 65, John told me what street/exit to look for. Okay, when you have your boyfriend, and stupid GPS talking to you at the same time, and my knack for getting lost, you're more than likely to really get lost. I took the right exit, but missed the light! UGH! He said something about a church, and a feeder road. The roads are really weird over there, too. Toto, I don't think we're in Houston anymore. I was so pissed and frustrated and tired from the drive and the car trouble that I finally pulled into said church and slammed the car into park. John said don't move, he was on his way. Good, because at this point, I'm totally done, and your ass will come tow me to wherever the hell you're living. No more! He pulled up in a dark tinted Jeep (strange because I didn't know he'd bought a car??), so I couldn't see him right off, nor did he stop. He pulled away, so I followed him. Guess where the hotel was?
A block away. One fucking block away.
Oh, I'm laughing now, and I had to admit, I had to laugh at myself then, because only I could get lost with a damn GPS. Fuck it, I made it, I'm alive. Pulling into the hotel, I got out and finally saw John for the first time in nearly three months. It was as if I'd just seen him yesterday, but seeing a stranger at the same time. Now, saying something cheesy like 'I ran straight into his arms, and I was home' seems like something that should stay in the romance novels, but, well, that's exactly what happened. Picking up where we left off, but such different times now. Got my stuff unloaded and into the room, and after a reunion/welcome dinner at Olive Garden, it was lights out.
John got off to work super early Friday morning, so once I got up I planned to call around some Walmarts and find some tires. Yep, easy, no-hassle day. Got a GPS to cruise around, what can go wrong? John called me after I woke up and said he was coming to have me follow him to the shop where the truck was (the Jeep was a rental, he later told me) so he could pick it up. I followed him to the shop, and explained to the owner about my tires. He was happy to pull my car in to take a look, and quote me for some tires. They pulled her out, I got back in..
The fucker didn't start. By now, I'm ready to go find the Acme explosives, and watch a damn good fireworks show. I'm willing to walk back to Texas at this point. I was seeing red because oh my God you stupid car! John was able to calm me down, and the guys had to charge her up before they could pull her BACK into the shop, because the battery was now shot. She's an '08, never had the battery replaced. Probably explained the violent shaking back in Baton Rouge yesterday. So John took me to IHOP for a late breakfast, right across the street from the shop, and we had a good view (my back was to the window so I wouldn't get the reminder and get pissed again). We got back, and $150 dollars later, I was back off to the hotel to get rolling (no pun intended) on these tires. John ended up leaving the truck behind at the shop again anyway, because the A/C wasn't quite fixed.
The first Walmart I called said they had the tires. Cool. I found my way easily, but when I got there, they only had three (brings back God-awful memories of my Auto days...God bless computers, right?). So I had them call around to see who had the fourth. Grab these three, pick up the fourth one, done deal...off to vacation! I would not only be kicking myself later, but also stabbing myself in the eyeballs. The store address I was given, was then plugged into the good ol' trusty TomTom. I ended up at a fucking Neighborhood Market bullshit store (I didn't know they had these over here), with no tire center. Okay, I've now been in this God forsaken car for Two Days, I'm tired and at the end of my rope with any rational thinking. John called, off work and asked where I was. No fucking clue, but this fucking store about to get burned to the ground. I backtracked and John and I ended up meeting at the right store (after a fun car chase where I got lost again and John and I passed each other up and then a turn got missed...okay, you can stop laughing now), the one with the fourth tire. The tech there spotted something that I, a former know-it-all and semi-tech SHOULD have caught on to (cue the kicking and stabbing); he explained the tires the other store sold me were bad, weather worn, and said he wouldn't feel comfortable installing these tires, there'd be no way I'd make it back to Texas. This guy was great, he really knew his stuff, was really nice and wanted to do whatever it took to help us (me). I asked the tech that if you have the tires, put them on, we'll figure out the defected ones later. So John and I walked around the store, cutting up and getting into trouble. I was ready for the madness to end, and salvage what was left of my vacation.
I got four brand-new tires, and we decided that we'd handle the old tires tomorrow, we'd both had enough for the day. John and I were going to meet a co-worker of his for dinner (forgot his name, Curtis? -maybe-). We met at this Mexican restaurant that was probably as big as my bedroom. Apparently, it's the hot spot in town because we endured an hour and a half wait to get inside. People were flocking this place like it was going out of style. So John and (maybe) Curtis were sitting outside, and the two boys launch into the epic Nintendo/gaming conversation to end all conversations. Oh my God if I could get J.R. up in this shit, they'd talk for days, and I'd have to pick them off one by one to get them to shut up. The conversation weaved into different things that were way over my head, so I just listened and tried to get into vacation mode again. When I explained to (maybe) Curtis about my fellow Nintendo-nerd friend, he got excited and we all agreed that he'd fit in just fine. We finally went inside and I could see what the hype was about; the food was awesome! Worth the wait. After dinner, the boys and I went to Walmart because the Mario Maker had just been released, and the Nintendo-nerds HAD to have their hands on it. Sorry, my gaming money had just been eaten by my evil Cobalt. After some chaos at Walmart and getting the Wii's, we all parted ways. (maybe) Curtis was pretty cool, and I hoped to meet him again. Got back to the hotel, and I was becoming more familiar with my surroundings. I left the stupid tires in my car, and went straight to bed, hoping that the worst was behind me. Turns out the best part was yet to come..and would leave me a lifetime of memories....
11:30p
(written late October)
Life as an adult is great, isn't it? It's a never ending cycle of things that need to get done, only to get even more things shoved at you before you can accomplish the other aforementioned things. You get up, try not to die, and go to bed. Yup, adult life is great.
Seriously, though, it's been a good month.
After finding out that the gastroenterologist I was supposed to see had unexpectedly left on a permanent hiatus, my nurse, Pat, set me up with another specialist for two weeks from that day. After ANOTHER round of blood work (I've lost count now-the hcg levels are going down since the operation, which is a good sign), I went home and focused on the task of packing for Alabama. I burned some CD's, (since iTunes was pissing me off, and ordering a new MP3 player was just pissing me off even more), and tried not to worry about the car. Two days before I was due to leave (the day of the doctor's appointment, to be exact), I noticed a vibration coming from the front end of my car. Great. Just great. I took the car to Frank, who confirmed that all four tires would need replacing soon, and the front passenger tire had a bad spot on it, but that he didn't see a problem with it getting to Alabama. I know I was due to have some other work on it, but they promised me it could wait. And dealerships are expensive as it is.
While Frank was re-balancing my tires for my peace of mind, I ran in to Walmart to grab a few last-minute things. I realized that I was going somewhere I'd never been before. I'd been on the route, but only as a passenger, never a driver (and I was three at the time). My phone had been acting up, and I thought Verizon had fixed the issue, so I really didn't feel comfortable using my phone's GPS. I went and looked at Walmart's GPS systems. I found a good one for a good price, and figured I'd use some of the bonus money coming in that week, and decided it would be an early birthday present to myself. So glad I did that...it would come in handy later (maybe).
I got the okay on the car, and went home to finish packing. I was nervous, excited, and anxious to get to John, but the drive was all I could think about. I did sleep well that night. The next morning, I loaded up the car, and hooked everything up for easy access on the road. After a quick fill-up, and a prayer, I was off. I knew that once I got past Orange, I'd be in unfamiliar territory, as I hadn't seen this route since I was three, and I remember nothing of our drives to South Carolina. The trip started out with no hiccups. However, once I got into Louisiana, all hell broke loose. I had taken to catching 18-wheelers, riding along with them, just cruising and in no real hurry. It started raining not too far past Lake Charles, and things just went downhill from there. The rain was so bad at one point, that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. I could see nothing around me, nor barely in front of me. I didn't even know if I was in my lane anymore. The thing that saved me was the current trucker I'd picked up. We were in the center lane (maybe). I noticed everyone was slowing way down, and had turned on their emergency flashers. I did the same. I couldn't see anything, except the outline of the 18-wheeler, and its tail lights. I didn't know what to do, or what I should do. Do I pull over? But I thought, with the rain so bad, I can't even see what lane is what, and if I did by some miracle, make it to the shoulder, what if a car hit me because they also couldn't see? I kept the outline of the 18-wheeler in the dead center of my windshield, and used him as my guide. The rain never let up. Never seen anything like it in my life; not on the road. It finally did, though, and I was hoping that was the last of the bad weather.
I needed to take a break and get my bearings back, so I stopped off in Jennings for something to eat. I pulled off into the parking lot and sat in the car, facing back west where I'd left the rain behind. The storm was moving fast, and I definitely didn't want to do THAT again (and I wasn't storm and RADAR equipped, the only thing on my person was my smartphone...lesson learned for next time), so I finished eating and was back on the road. Not too long after, I was doing 65, and there was a really significant wobble that came from the front end, enough to send a jolt of fear through me. You've got to be kidding. I'm going to die before I make it to Mobile, either from the blinding rain, or from a blowout. The rest of the trip, I had to do either 60 or 70, and anything in between would randomly throw out a period of huge vibrations. I'm getting these damn tires replaced when I get to Mobile, come hell or high water (no pun intended).
The rain never quit. I'd hit periods of heavy rain, then it would dwindle, then pick back up again. Once I hit Baton Rouge and crossed over the big bridge, I hit some traffic. Sitting on the peak of the bridge, I came to a dead stop. The car started vibrating violently, like it was going to shake apart. What the hell? I thought it was the swaying of the bridge, but it was the car, and I thought for sure it was going to die or overheat right there. I'm too far away for anyone to come get me, and I was freaking out by this point. I had to keep inching forward, to keep moving, because for some reason that's the only thing that would stop the violent vibrating, but traffic was too heavy and I almost bumped another trucker. I got over the bridge and reached my goal of finding I-12. Once I crossed onto the 100-mile bridge (SLIGHT exaggeration there), the rain took over again and I just kept my current trucker in my box. I was praying the car would get me there. Now off work, John called and asked for updates every so often. He was worried. I kept calm, though I was freaking out inside.
I eventually made it back to I-10 again, so I knew I was getting close to Mississippi. Thank God. Louisiana treated me like shit, so yeah, fuck you and stuff. Takes forever to cross that damn state. Once I crossed the state line, I FINALLY had a break from the rain; the sun even came out. An hour later, and I all but jumped out of my (car) seat when I saw the welcome sign for Alabama. So close! The GPS was really good, and I didn't need it except for the I-12/I-10 exits. I knew I was to be looking for I-65 into Mobile, and by this time, John was on the phone helping me. Somehow, I missed the turn off. Damn GPS! I missed the two exit lanes, so I had to do a strange U-turn. 10 minutes into this damn state, and I'm already lost and confused. Once I hit 65, John told me what street/exit to look for. Okay, when you have your boyfriend, and stupid GPS talking to you at the same time, and my knack for getting lost, you're more than likely to really get lost. I took the right exit, but missed the light! UGH! He said something about a church, and a feeder road. The roads are really weird over there, too. Toto, I don't think we're in Houston anymore. I was so pissed and frustrated and tired from the drive and the car trouble that I finally pulled into said church and slammed the car into park. John said don't move, he was on his way. Good, because at this point, I'm totally done, and your ass will come tow me to wherever the hell you're living. No more! He pulled up in a dark tinted Jeep (strange because I didn't know he'd bought a car??), so I couldn't see him right off, nor did he stop. He pulled away, so I followed him. Guess where the hotel was?
A block away. One fucking block away.
Oh, I'm laughing now, and I had to admit, I had to laugh at myself then, because only I could get lost with a damn GPS. Fuck it, I made it, I'm alive. Pulling into the hotel, I got out and finally saw John for the first time in nearly three months. It was as if I'd just seen him yesterday, but seeing a stranger at the same time. Now, saying something cheesy like 'I ran straight into his arms, and I was home' seems like something that should stay in the romance novels, but, well, that's exactly what happened. Picking up where we left off, but such different times now. Got my stuff unloaded and into the room, and after a reunion/welcome dinner at Olive Garden, it was lights out.
John got off to work super early Friday morning, so once I got up I planned to call around some Walmarts and find some tires. Yep, easy, no-hassle day. Got a GPS to cruise around, what can go wrong? John called me after I woke up and said he was coming to have me follow him to the shop where the truck was (the Jeep was a rental, he later told me) so he could pick it up. I followed him to the shop, and explained to the owner about my tires. He was happy to pull my car in to take a look, and quote me for some tires. They pulled her out, I got back in..
The fucker didn't start. By now, I'm ready to go find the Acme explosives, and watch a damn good fireworks show. I'm willing to walk back to Texas at this point. I was seeing red because oh my God you stupid car! John was able to calm me down, and the guys had to charge her up before they could pull her BACK into the shop, because the battery was now shot. She's an '08, never had the battery replaced. Probably explained the violent shaking back in Baton Rouge yesterday. So John took me to IHOP for a late breakfast, right across the street from the shop, and we had a good view (my back was to the window so I wouldn't get the reminder and get pissed again). We got back, and $150 dollars later, I was back off to the hotel to get rolling (no pun intended) on these tires. John ended up leaving the truck behind at the shop again anyway, because the A/C wasn't quite fixed.
The first Walmart I called said they had the tires. Cool. I found my way easily, but when I got there, they only had three (brings back God-awful memories of my Auto days...God bless computers, right?). So I had them call around to see who had the fourth. Grab these three, pick up the fourth one, done deal...off to vacation! I would not only be kicking myself later, but also stabbing myself in the eyeballs. The store address I was given, was then plugged into the good ol' trusty TomTom. I ended up at a fucking Neighborhood Market bullshit store (I didn't know they had these over here), with no tire center. Okay, I've now been in this God forsaken car for Two Days, I'm tired and at the end of my rope with any rational thinking. John called, off work and asked where I was. No fucking clue, but this fucking store about to get burned to the ground. I backtracked and John and I ended up meeting at the right store (after a fun car chase where I got lost again and John and I passed each other up and then a turn got missed...okay, you can stop laughing now), the one with the fourth tire. The tech there spotted something that I, a former know-it-all and semi-tech SHOULD have caught on to (cue the kicking and stabbing); he explained the tires the other store sold me were bad, weather worn, and said he wouldn't feel comfortable installing these tires, there'd be no way I'd make it back to Texas. This guy was great, he really knew his stuff, was really nice and wanted to do whatever it took to help us (me). I asked the tech that if you have the tires, put them on, we'll figure out the defected ones later. So John and I walked around the store, cutting up and getting into trouble. I was ready for the madness to end, and salvage what was left of my vacation.
I got four brand-new tires, and we decided that we'd handle the old tires tomorrow, we'd both had enough for the day. John and I were going to meet a co-worker of his for dinner (forgot his name, Curtis? -maybe-). We met at this Mexican restaurant that was probably as big as my bedroom. Apparently, it's the hot spot in town because we endured an hour and a half wait to get inside. People were flocking this place like it was going out of style. So John and (maybe) Curtis were sitting outside, and the two boys launch into the epic Nintendo/gaming conversation to end all conversations. Oh my God if I could get J.R. up in this shit, they'd talk for days, and I'd have to pick them off one by one to get them to shut up. The conversation weaved into different things that were way over my head, so I just listened and tried to get into vacation mode again. When I explained to (maybe) Curtis about my fellow Nintendo-nerd friend, he got excited and we all agreed that he'd fit in just fine. We finally went inside and I could see what the hype was about; the food was awesome! Worth the wait. After dinner, the boys and I went to Walmart because the Mario Maker had just been released, and the Nintendo-nerds HAD to have their hands on it. Sorry, my gaming money had just been eaten by my evil Cobalt. After some chaos at Walmart and getting the Wii's, we all parted ways. (maybe) Curtis was pretty cool, and I hoped to meet him again. Got back to the hotel, and I was becoming more familiar with my surroundings. I left the stupid tires in my car, and went straight to bed, hoping that the worst was behind me. Turns out the best part was yet to come..and would leave me a lifetime of memories....
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Someday, I'll understand (3)
mid-late August 2015, published 12/14/15. I finally had the strength to do this.
9:30a
Once everything died down with the procedure, and I'd gone back to work, I had no idea what to expect now. Things were slowly going back to normal, but I still had to find out what this new doctor would say and do about the other situation. I was so happy to have made it through that first weekend back to work. I know John wanted to be there badly, but I had to keep going. I was still planning on driving to Alabama in a few weeks.
Turns out, the original GI doctor I was supposed to see, had unexpectedly left, and no one knew for how long. I went and saw Pat with the OB/GYN, and she gave me a number for Dr. Tompson. She said he's one of the best, and that my OB/GYN had practiced with him for a long time. I met with him and told him everything, and he gave me list on some things to do for the time being, to see how my body handled it. He then suggested a colonoscopy. Ugh, I flat out avoided this about 7 years ago, but knew I had to do this, I wanted answers. I lucked out and was on vacation that weekend, anyway, and Sunday I was back to the liquids diet once again. This time, I actually tried to eat and keep my strength up. That night, I was to start prepping, and stop the liquid diet. Not even water with this medicine I had to take, and that stuff was nasty. I had to do two doses, spread apart, and each dose had to be drunk within an hour. This stuff just makes you miserable, and I just wanted to sleep. I had to be in Houston at 5 the next morning, and start getting prepped. Thank God they knock you out for this. The nurses were very nice and helped ease my nerves. I had my good luck charm with me, and when I was wheeled into the room, they were hooking me up to all the machines and positioning me for the operation, so I couldn't move. One of the doctors tucked the charm under my arm for me, a pink Yoshi that I got for my birthday last year. He recognized the character and asked about it. Lying there listening to the buzzing and beeping, I kept thinking how this is taking place almost two weeks since the other operation, and how I'll be glad if I don't see another hospital for a while after this one...
I was on bed rest for about two days, and back to a normal diet. I wanted to eat everything in sight. This hospital stuff takes its toll. And we were given some great news; the results came back normal. They had also sent me home with, ugh, pictures (it really is kind of cool, in a gross way). I even got a signed card from all the nurses. I was now given a list of foods to eat that are high in fiber, to increase my water intake (it's all I drink, anyway), and start taking medicine to maintain and stay on a regular schedule. I can't tell you how much things improved; I had so much energy, was never tired, and I felt great. Even gained a few pounds. This is what I needed for so long!
Physically, things were improving. Emotionally, that was a different story. In the weeks after the first procedure, my emotions were taking their toll. I'd go to work, and one little thing could set me off faster than a bullet being shot out of a gun. I was always so angry, even though I had no reason to be. If my scanner messed up on me, I'd get angry, and I almost liked to destroyed one one day. I knew it wasn't healthy, but also had the good sense to admit to myself that this could be a huge problem if not dealt with. John even suggested I talk to someone, fearing what I already knew. At home, it wasn't as bad, but I still would lash out if something messed up or didn't go as planned. On the reverse side, I could be having a semi-good day, verifying pallets, and all of a sudden break into tears, out of nowhere. I would duck between taller pallets to wait for the clouds to clear. I wondered when the roller coaster would stop.
I had some comfort come one weekend in the form of my extended family. My friend April messaged me and told me of her own heartbreaking story, between her three children, she'd suffered a miscarriage, at 8 weeks, just like me. We talked most all of Friday night, before I had to call it a night to get up for work. The next weekend, Saturday night I was driving home after a long day, when my mom called and said did I mind a visitor. I said no, as I was already prepped for the next day but just had to fix my lunch. I got home, and April, her mom Mitze, and April's kids were all there. I got hugs from everyone, and we all caught up on everything and everyone. April and Mitze made me a gift. It was a beautiful wire basket with all kinds of goodies; a journal (purple, of course) with Bible scriptures on each page and for me to write down my experiences and feelings, bath salt and sugar scrub that April made herself, some 'Joy' essential oil, a scented clothespin for my car, and big box of homemade cookies. It was all put together with love and care. The card they gave me was beautiful, they wrote their own messages and scriptures, and I couldn't read it all the way through before I broke down in tears. Took me a week before I could read the card the whole way through. I felt so loved and blessed to have these people in my life. These are the same people that helped me and my family during the tornado. They gave us a place to stay without thinking twice. The Mitchells are awesome people, and I don't know what we did to deserve them. What I did to deserve their compassion and love. I needed that after what I'd been through, and things looked up from there. I really need to get together with April one day, very soon. I did promise, after all.
After that weekend, things looked up. I wasn't so emotional anymore, but the issue was still there. I knew I needed a way to curb the anger. John and I weren't on good terms because of the distance and the events that had occurred. I was still pulling everyone close to me and telling them what happened, knocking them off the list one by one. I hated it; each time I told someone, after being met with the surprised and happy reactions, I'd try not to break down after delivering the blow again and again, not just to them, but to me as well. Another stab to my heart. The last of my friends that I told, I did finally break down, let everything go. I was mad at myself at first for being weak, but I needed it, I needed it so bad that it didn't matter that I couldn't hold myself together anymore. When all you want to do is punch something and scream at the unfairness of it all, but I honestly had no energy left. Just to lay there and cry, and be comforted by someone who didn't need to say anything at all, and that's exactly what I needed. A small piece of me healed that day. Countless times I'd sit and count my blessings, and never was I angry at God. That day I knew everything would be okay. I knew that after everything I'd endured, I could do anything. This meant making the biggest decision I'd made in a very long time:
Making the trip to Alabama..and doing it alone.
9:30a
Once everything died down with the procedure, and I'd gone back to work, I had no idea what to expect now. Things were slowly going back to normal, but I still had to find out what this new doctor would say and do about the other situation. I was so happy to have made it through that first weekend back to work. I know John wanted to be there badly, but I had to keep going. I was still planning on driving to Alabama in a few weeks.
Turns out, the original GI doctor I was supposed to see, had unexpectedly left, and no one knew for how long. I went and saw Pat with the OB/GYN, and she gave me a number for Dr. Tompson. She said he's one of the best, and that my OB/GYN had practiced with him for a long time. I met with him and told him everything, and he gave me list on some things to do for the time being, to see how my body handled it. He then suggested a colonoscopy. Ugh, I flat out avoided this about 7 years ago, but knew I had to do this, I wanted answers. I lucked out and was on vacation that weekend, anyway, and Sunday I was back to the liquids diet once again. This time, I actually tried to eat and keep my strength up. That night, I was to start prepping, and stop the liquid diet. Not even water with this medicine I had to take, and that stuff was nasty. I had to do two doses, spread apart, and each dose had to be drunk within an hour. This stuff just makes you miserable, and I just wanted to sleep. I had to be in Houston at 5 the next morning, and start getting prepped. Thank God they knock you out for this. The nurses were very nice and helped ease my nerves. I had my good luck charm with me, and when I was wheeled into the room, they were hooking me up to all the machines and positioning me for the operation, so I couldn't move. One of the doctors tucked the charm under my arm for me, a pink Yoshi that I got for my birthday last year. He recognized the character and asked about it. Lying there listening to the buzzing and beeping, I kept thinking how this is taking place almost two weeks since the other operation, and how I'll be glad if I don't see another hospital for a while after this one...
I was on bed rest for about two days, and back to a normal diet. I wanted to eat everything in sight. This hospital stuff takes its toll. And we were given some great news; the results came back normal. They had also sent me home with, ugh, pictures (it really is kind of cool, in a gross way). I even got a signed card from all the nurses. I was now given a list of foods to eat that are high in fiber, to increase my water intake (it's all I drink, anyway), and start taking medicine to maintain and stay on a regular schedule. I can't tell you how much things improved; I had so much energy, was never tired, and I felt great. Even gained a few pounds. This is what I needed for so long!
Physically, things were improving. Emotionally, that was a different story. In the weeks after the first procedure, my emotions were taking their toll. I'd go to work, and one little thing could set me off faster than a bullet being shot out of a gun. I was always so angry, even though I had no reason to be. If my scanner messed up on me, I'd get angry, and I almost liked to destroyed one one day. I knew it wasn't healthy, but also had the good sense to admit to myself that this could be a huge problem if not dealt with. John even suggested I talk to someone, fearing what I already knew. At home, it wasn't as bad, but I still would lash out if something messed up or didn't go as planned. On the reverse side, I could be having a semi-good day, verifying pallets, and all of a sudden break into tears, out of nowhere. I would duck between taller pallets to wait for the clouds to clear. I wondered when the roller coaster would stop.
I had some comfort come one weekend in the form of my extended family. My friend April messaged me and told me of her own heartbreaking story, between her three children, she'd suffered a miscarriage, at 8 weeks, just like me. We talked most all of Friday night, before I had to call it a night to get up for work. The next weekend, Saturday night I was driving home after a long day, when my mom called and said did I mind a visitor. I said no, as I was already prepped for the next day but just had to fix my lunch. I got home, and April, her mom Mitze, and April's kids were all there. I got hugs from everyone, and we all caught up on everything and everyone. April and Mitze made me a gift. It was a beautiful wire basket with all kinds of goodies; a journal (purple, of course) with Bible scriptures on each page and for me to write down my experiences and feelings, bath salt and sugar scrub that April made herself, some 'Joy' essential oil, a scented clothespin for my car, and big box of homemade cookies. It was all put together with love and care. The card they gave me was beautiful, they wrote their own messages and scriptures, and I couldn't read it all the way through before I broke down in tears. Took me a week before I could read the card the whole way through. I felt so loved and blessed to have these people in my life. These are the same people that helped me and my family during the tornado. They gave us a place to stay without thinking twice. The Mitchells are awesome people, and I don't know what we did to deserve them. What I did to deserve their compassion and love. I needed that after what I'd been through, and things looked up from there. I really need to get together with April one day, very soon. I did promise, after all.
After that weekend, things looked up. I wasn't so emotional anymore, but the issue was still there. I knew I needed a way to curb the anger. John and I weren't on good terms because of the distance and the events that had occurred. I was still pulling everyone close to me and telling them what happened, knocking them off the list one by one. I hated it; each time I told someone, after being met with the surprised and happy reactions, I'd try not to break down after delivering the blow again and again, not just to them, but to me as well. Another stab to my heart. The last of my friends that I told, I did finally break down, let everything go. I was mad at myself at first for being weak, but I needed it, I needed it so bad that it didn't matter that I couldn't hold myself together anymore. When all you want to do is punch something and scream at the unfairness of it all, but I honestly had no energy left. Just to lay there and cry, and be comforted by someone who didn't need to say anything at all, and that's exactly what I needed. A small piece of me healed that day. Countless times I'd sit and count my blessings, and never was I angry at God. That day I knew everything would be okay. I knew that after everything I'd endured, I could do anything. This meant making the biggest decision I'd made in a very long time:
Making the trip to Alabama..and doing it alone.
Monday, September 21, 2015
Someday, maybe I'll understand (2)
Music: "Counting Down the Days" - Above and Beyond
Written mid-August. 8:20a
After the doctor's visit, I went back to work for the first time since learning I was pregnant. I was now super aware of everything; every step, every noise, every feeling, every movement. I was put on A dock, and it was not forgiving, and I found myself in front of the computer the entire day, 14 hours of prime after prime after prime. I think every member of QA had come down to verify at least once. It was super busy. But I was only on for one day; I'd taken Saturday off, for our Choir reunion that had since been cancelled, so I kept the day open anyway. It was super relaxing after everything; I spent the day swimming, and my dad even taught me how to make his famous pizza. For a moment, I forgot about being pregnant, and just let myself be lulled into my now former life, a life without worry or stress.
I spent a lot of sleepless nights worrying, and trying not to at the same time. Thinking about things, the future. About John. About being a mother. What will my friends and family say? Where are we going to live? Work? School? Would I be able to go back? Late night feedings. Diaper changes. Crying. Money. What if the baby doesn't make it? What happens after he says thing are fine, and progressing well? So many things, and not having anyone to talk to to help sort things out. I was treading water.
Wednesday came. I knew that whatever happened at this point, was completely in God's control, but I just wanted an answer. I went straight to the radiologist, and the nurse did two very extensive ultrasounds. I waited, impatiently and nervously for the answer. Lying there for what seemed like an eternity. Praying. Nothing but silence in my head. The radiologist came in, and came straight over to me, gently grabbing my hand, and I could see it in his eyes, read it on his face. My brain was too slow to process it; but my heart already knew before the words could leave the doctor's mouth....
We couldn't find a heartbeat.
It was like being in the middle of an ocean, the waves angrily crashing over and over. The emotion hit me with such force, that my world came to an abrupt halt. I wasn't strong enough to keep my head above water. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't say anything. All I could do was cry. The doctor apologized and asked who was with me, and he went and called for my dad. I can't tell you how much it hurt because it was John who I really wished would come through that door. Oh God I have to tell him, and it's going to hurt. My dad finally got to me, and I had to tell him, he didn't know. We cried, and I didn't even care I was still lying on the table, with just a sheet over me. Naturally, my mom called, as if she unconsciously knew already. I told her. I couldn't move, just cried and cried. I knew I had to go see my doctor eventually and figure out what to do next. I got dressed and we went upstairs. I can't tell you how empty I felt. Hollow. Numb.
The doctor was out in the ER in surgery, so my nurse, Pat, came in to comfort us for a bit. She said for me to go on home, and rest, eat something. The hardest thing was to tell John. I saw the stages of grief without actually being there in person. He kept texting me 'are you sure? are they sure? TELL THEM TO CHECK AGAIN'. It hurt me even more to see how much pain he was in. Each text message was a knife slicing through my already broken heart. My own pain doubled, because I couldn't be there to comfort him, and vice versa. I made it home, and my dad and I sat and talked about what happened. He told me about my late sister, Janet, and how hard it was seeing her sick. She passed away at 16 months. He said although she'd been born and wasn't lost while my mom was pregnant with her, it's still the loss of a child, and there's no greater pain than losing a child. I was about 8 weeks at this point. We cried and talked and cried some more. I knew now that I had to be strong and be supportive of John and vice versa. We needed each other, and being 400 miles apart doesn't make that any easier. My dad went on to finish up his work, and I was able to finally admit to myself and take in what had just happened.
I lost my baby.
Everything had come to a dead stop. My parents had been so excited, and so were John and I. Now, now what do we do?
One thing that I learned right off the bat, looking back, is that you can't blame yourself, and I had absolutely no reason to: I was doing everything I was supposed to, eating right, resting enough, no smoking or drinking. I have no reason to feel guilty, and I still don't. This was simply all part of God's plan, this just wasn't the time. There was nothing anyone could have done.
The doctor called back later that afternoon, and apologized. He explained that it was nothing I did, just that the chromosomal pairs just did not come together, and not to feel guilty. He explained that for the safety of my health, it would be better for me to have the D and C procedure done (Google it if you don't know what that is, as I really do not wish to explain it). He explained that letting Mother Nature take over and handle the miscarriage naturally, I could be in a lot of pain, and who knows when the bleeding would start, or how bad it could be. So I was to go back the next day and get another ultrasound. Another problem would soon show itself...
When John called that night, it was really hard. He didn't want to talk about the finer details, just how I was doing and what the doctor said. We grieved together, no longer parents. I don't know how I was able to sleep that night.
I went back in on Thursday, and did another ultrasound. He was unable to get to my uterus, because now there was some blockage in my colon, preventing him from getting a read. He needed to get in there to confirm the D and C would be the best option. I was to come back in again the next afternoon. Friday morning I got up and called my boss, Brian, and told him everything. He was the first person outside of the family (and the first person at work) that I told, but this was an emergency, and I felt better that he knew. He sent his condolences, and suggested I take a leave of absence, as I was looking down the throat of a Step 2 for attendance. Done. I called the company that handles it, and they were to send me all the paper work. Went back to the doctor, and he was able to get the ultrasound. I was scheduled to have the D and C on Tuesday the following week.
He was concerned about the blockage issue, explaining that it looks as if there might be an infection. He recommended a doctor in the Med Center, the best in the world. He was going to set me up with her to hopefully get some answers to our questions. I remembered the hell I went through six months ago (he knew all of this on the first appointment), and this is something I've dealt with all my life. However, 20 plus years ago, technology wasn't what it is today, doctors just didn't have the answers back then. They were sure that as I grew older and my body developed, that the issue would go away. So after being given my pre-surgery instructions, I headed home for a long weekend. I called my manager and told him everything, and he suggested I take a leave of absence. He was very understanding and said call if I needed anything. Turns out I needed the break after all. I made the personal decision to call my sister that Saturday. It broke my heart to hear her excitement (oh my, God, I'm finally going to be an Aunt!), only to let her down with the bad news in the next breath. She was sad, but told me something I never knew about her. She was pregnant when she was really young, and wasn't something her and her boyfriend were ready for. My sister had the same procedure done, so she knew exactly what I was going through. I felt a little better having someone close, besides my parents, who understood, a little better in some cases. She asked when the surgery was, and said she'd be definitely be there.
Monday, I was on an all-liquid diet, as well as laxatives, to be sure they wouldn't have an issue getting to where they needed to be during surgery. My body all but laughed at my efforts. Desperate, I called Pat, who gave me some tips. I did everything, but it's like stage freight where everything in your body freezes. That night, I was miserable because nothing was working, not to mention I was weak from not eating. I can't do the Jell-O/broth diet, I just can't. I felt stuck again, time refused to pass. I wanted this behind me.
My doctor had instructed me to come down to his office before my scheduled surgery (the buildings are right next door to each other), to examine me to determine if this procedure would be given the green light. Waiting in that room, I tried to decide what to do if this wasn't going to happen. I couldn't do this again. With the baby still inside, I wasn't able to grasp still what had happened. I needed to grieve. With the green light finally given, and a huge sigh of relief, it was off to the surgery building. The doctor seemed pretty confident that he'd be able to get in there and do what needed to be done.
After all the paperwork, and a call from my sister saying she was on her way, they started prepping me. The nerves came back. I was never happier to see my sister when she came through the curtain. They only allow two people at a time in the small room, so my parents alternated with each other. My sister was there the entire time, holding my hand and telling me to breathe. The nurse started the IV, then returned a few minutes later with the 'cocktail'. This is it. I wanted to panic, but I heard something then that took away all the stress and anxiety:
Someone from Heaven spoke to me.
I haven't told anyone this. When I lost a beloved family member 15 years ago, I came home and saw a video on TV. It was a song by a group from the UK. I didn't really care for the song at the time, but it grew on me, and that day, took on a whole new meaning. The lyrics were beautiful. It even became a contender on my list of songs to sing at my Senior year Choir concert. I listen to the song once in a blue moon, and I've heard it one other time since that day, but can't recall the event.
I heard the song on the radio, above all the chatter and hospital noise, seeming out of place what with all the other songs I'd heard, but coming at just the right time. This family member was telling me it was going to be okay. I wasn't nervous anymore, like all the fear and worry had been sucked out of me with the fading of the song. This is the last thing I remember.
Surgery was a success, far as having any issues go. They had no problems. We were told that I shouldn't find any issues with a future pregnancy. I was warned, however, that I was not to get pregnant again until this other issue gets resolved. Well, won't have to worry about that because my boyfriend is three states away. Still. After a pregnancy or pregnancy loss, there is a three-month window where you're super fertile, and this is usually when women get pregnant again. Yeah, cool facts, huh.
I was taken home and given a list of instructions on what not to do for the next two weeks: no swimming, no baths, no sex. You're killing me. I'd have to spend my next vacation looking at the pool. I was a little too anxious to return to normal, and swimming is the perfect therapy for me. But health comes first. I was perched on the couch the rest of the day, watching shows with my mom, while starting to eat solid foods again, and monitoring the bleeding. Amazing thing is, I had no pain. I wasn't ready to climb up my stairs yet or run a marathon, but I thought the pain factor would've been more up there. But I knew, this was it, the time when I could finally process this, and grieve. I thought I would be okay.
Friday morning, I went back to work. Felt strange to be back in a sense of normalcy, with my co-workers, and QA stuff, and a normal schedule. I hadn't cried since before the procedure. Hadn't really processed it. The emotions simply had not hit me. I walked 10 steps beyond the front door of the warehouse, and I lost it. The boat finally sank, and I was at the mercy of the waves again for the first time in two weeks. Three weeks later after starting to write all of this, and I'm still waiting for the rescue boat. The waves come and go; some are smaller, and some are 20 stories tall. I was an emotional wreck all weekend. Ups and downs. Brian stopped by my dock each day to ask how I was and offered to lend any support. I told two of my closest co-workers, Tashanda and Mr. John. I was glad to know they had my back, and I knew the process of telling my closest family and friends was about to begin.
The worst was now over, but still so much unresolved. A lifetime of searching for answers for the other health issue was now about to have some light shed on it from the end of a very long tunnel, and the true impact of the loss was about to hit....
Written mid-August. 8:20a
After the doctor's visit, I went back to work for the first time since learning I was pregnant. I was now super aware of everything; every step, every noise, every feeling, every movement. I was put on A dock, and it was not forgiving, and I found myself in front of the computer the entire day, 14 hours of prime after prime after prime. I think every member of QA had come down to verify at least once. It was super busy. But I was only on for one day; I'd taken Saturday off, for our Choir reunion that had since been cancelled, so I kept the day open anyway. It was super relaxing after everything; I spent the day swimming, and my dad even taught me how to make his famous pizza. For a moment, I forgot about being pregnant, and just let myself be lulled into my now former life, a life without worry or stress.
I spent a lot of sleepless nights worrying, and trying not to at the same time. Thinking about things, the future. About John. About being a mother. What will my friends and family say? Where are we going to live? Work? School? Would I be able to go back? Late night feedings. Diaper changes. Crying. Money. What if the baby doesn't make it? What happens after he says thing are fine, and progressing well? So many things, and not having anyone to talk to to help sort things out. I was treading water.
Wednesday came. I knew that whatever happened at this point, was completely in God's control, but I just wanted an answer. I went straight to the radiologist, and the nurse did two very extensive ultrasounds. I waited, impatiently and nervously for the answer. Lying there for what seemed like an eternity. Praying. Nothing but silence in my head. The radiologist came in, and came straight over to me, gently grabbing my hand, and I could see it in his eyes, read it on his face. My brain was too slow to process it; but my heart already knew before the words could leave the doctor's mouth....
We couldn't find a heartbeat.
It was like being in the middle of an ocean, the waves angrily crashing over and over. The emotion hit me with such force, that my world came to an abrupt halt. I wasn't strong enough to keep my head above water. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't say anything. All I could do was cry. The doctor apologized and asked who was with me, and he went and called for my dad. I can't tell you how much it hurt because it was John who I really wished would come through that door. Oh God I have to tell him, and it's going to hurt. My dad finally got to me, and I had to tell him, he didn't know. We cried, and I didn't even care I was still lying on the table, with just a sheet over me. Naturally, my mom called, as if she unconsciously knew already. I told her. I couldn't move, just cried and cried. I knew I had to go see my doctor eventually and figure out what to do next. I got dressed and we went upstairs. I can't tell you how empty I felt. Hollow. Numb.
The doctor was out in the ER in surgery, so my nurse, Pat, came in to comfort us for a bit. She said for me to go on home, and rest, eat something. The hardest thing was to tell John. I saw the stages of grief without actually being there in person. He kept texting me 'are you sure? are they sure? TELL THEM TO CHECK AGAIN'. It hurt me even more to see how much pain he was in. Each text message was a knife slicing through my already broken heart. My own pain doubled, because I couldn't be there to comfort him, and vice versa. I made it home, and my dad and I sat and talked about what happened. He told me about my late sister, Janet, and how hard it was seeing her sick. She passed away at 16 months. He said although she'd been born and wasn't lost while my mom was pregnant with her, it's still the loss of a child, and there's no greater pain than losing a child. I was about 8 weeks at this point. We cried and talked and cried some more. I knew now that I had to be strong and be supportive of John and vice versa. We needed each other, and being 400 miles apart doesn't make that any easier. My dad went on to finish up his work, and I was able to finally admit to myself and take in what had just happened.
I lost my baby.
Everything had come to a dead stop. My parents had been so excited, and so were John and I. Now, now what do we do?
One thing that I learned right off the bat, looking back, is that you can't blame yourself, and I had absolutely no reason to: I was doing everything I was supposed to, eating right, resting enough, no smoking or drinking. I have no reason to feel guilty, and I still don't. This was simply all part of God's plan, this just wasn't the time. There was nothing anyone could have done.
The doctor called back later that afternoon, and apologized. He explained that it was nothing I did, just that the chromosomal pairs just did not come together, and not to feel guilty. He explained that for the safety of my health, it would be better for me to have the D and C procedure done (Google it if you don't know what that is, as I really do not wish to explain it). He explained that letting Mother Nature take over and handle the miscarriage naturally, I could be in a lot of pain, and who knows when the bleeding would start, or how bad it could be. So I was to go back the next day and get another ultrasound. Another problem would soon show itself...
When John called that night, it was really hard. He didn't want to talk about the finer details, just how I was doing and what the doctor said. We grieved together, no longer parents. I don't know how I was able to sleep that night.
I went back in on Thursday, and did another ultrasound. He was unable to get to my uterus, because now there was some blockage in my colon, preventing him from getting a read. He needed to get in there to confirm the D and C would be the best option. I was to come back in again the next afternoon. Friday morning I got up and called my boss, Brian, and told him everything. He was the first person outside of the family (and the first person at work) that I told, but this was an emergency, and I felt better that he knew. He sent his condolences, and suggested I take a leave of absence, as I was looking down the throat of a Step 2 for attendance. Done. I called the company that handles it, and they were to send me all the paper work. Went back to the doctor, and he was able to get the ultrasound. I was scheduled to have the D and C on Tuesday the following week.
He was concerned about the blockage issue, explaining that it looks as if there might be an infection. He recommended a doctor in the Med Center, the best in the world. He was going to set me up with her to hopefully get some answers to our questions. I remembered the hell I went through six months ago (he knew all of this on the first appointment), and this is something I've dealt with all my life. However, 20 plus years ago, technology wasn't what it is today, doctors just didn't have the answers back then. They were sure that as I grew older and my body developed, that the issue would go away. So after being given my pre-surgery instructions, I headed home for a long weekend. I called my manager and told him everything, and he suggested I take a leave of absence. He was very understanding and said call if I needed anything. Turns out I needed the break after all. I made the personal decision to call my sister that Saturday. It broke my heart to hear her excitement (oh my, God, I'm finally going to be an Aunt!), only to let her down with the bad news in the next breath. She was sad, but told me something I never knew about her. She was pregnant when she was really young, and wasn't something her and her boyfriend were ready for. My sister had the same procedure done, so she knew exactly what I was going through. I felt a little better having someone close, besides my parents, who understood, a little better in some cases. She asked when the surgery was, and said she'd be definitely be there.
Monday, I was on an all-liquid diet, as well as laxatives, to be sure they wouldn't have an issue getting to where they needed to be during surgery. My body all but laughed at my efforts. Desperate, I called Pat, who gave me some tips. I did everything, but it's like stage freight where everything in your body freezes. That night, I was miserable because nothing was working, not to mention I was weak from not eating. I can't do the Jell-O/broth diet, I just can't. I felt stuck again, time refused to pass. I wanted this behind me.
My doctor had instructed me to come down to his office before my scheduled surgery (the buildings are right next door to each other), to examine me to determine if this procedure would be given the green light. Waiting in that room, I tried to decide what to do if this wasn't going to happen. I couldn't do this again. With the baby still inside, I wasn't able to grasp still what had happened. I needed to grieve. With the green light finally given, and a huge sigh of relief, it was off to the surgery building. The doctor seemed pretty confident that he'd be able to get in there and do what needed to be done.
After all the paperwork, and a call from my sister saying she was on her way, they started prepping me. The nerves came back. I was never happier to see my sister when she came through the curtain. They only allow two people at a time in the small room, so my parents alternated with each other. My sister was there the entire time, holding my hand and telling me to breathe. The nurse started the IV, then returned a few minutes later with the 'cocktail'. This is it. I wanted to panic, but I heard something then that took away all the stress and anxiety:
Someone from Heaven spoke to me.
I haven't told anyone this. When I lost a beloved family member 15 years ago, I came home and saw a video on TV. It was a song by a group from the UK. I didn't really care for the song at the time, but it grew on me, and that day, took on a whole new meaning. The lyrics were beautiful. It even became a contender on my list of songs to sing at my Senior year Choir concert. I listen to the song once in a blue moon, and I've heard it one other time since that day, but can't recall the event.
I heard the song on the radio, above all the chatter and hospital noise, seeming out of place what with all the other songs I'd heard, but coming at just the right time. This family member was telling me it was going to be okay. I wasn't nervous anymore, like all the fear and worry had been sucked out of me with the fading of the song. This is the last thing I remember.
Surgery was a success, far as having any issues go. They had no problems. We were told that I shouldn't find any issues with a future pregnancy. I was warned, however, that I was not to get pregnant again until this other issue gets resolved. Well, won't have to worry about that because my boyfriend is three states away. Still. After a pregnancy or pregnancy loss, there is a three-month window where you're super fertile, and this is usually when women get pregnant again. Yeah, cool facts, huh.
I was taken home and given a list of instructions on what not to do for the next two weeks: no swimming, no baths, no sex. You're killing me. I'd have to spend my next vacation looking at the pool. I was a little too anxious to return to normal, and swimming is the perfect therapy for me. But health comes first. I was perched on the couch the rest of the day, watching shows with my mom, while starting to eat solid foods again, and monitoring the bleeding. Amazing thing is, I had no pain. I wasn't ready to climb up my stairs yet or run a marathon, but I thought the pain factor would've been more up there. But I knew, this was it, the time when I could finally process this, and grieve. I thought I would be okay.
Friday morning, I went back to work. Felt strange to be back in a sense of normalcy, with my co-workers, and QA stuff, and a normal schedule. I hadn't cried since before the procedure. Hadn't really processed it. The emotions simply had not hit me. I walked 10 steps beyond the front door of the warehouse, and I lost it. The boat finally sank, and I was at the mercy of the waves again for the first time in two weeks. Three weeks later after starting to write all of this, and I'm still waiting for the rescue boat. The waves come and go; some are smaller, and some are 20 stories tall. I was an emotional wreck all weekend. Ups and downs. Brian stopped by my dock each day to ask how I was and offered to lend any support. I told two of my closest co-workers, Tashanda and Mr. John. I was glad to know they had my back, and I knew the process of telling my closest family and friends was about to begin.
The worst was now over, but still so much unresolved. A lifetime of searching for answers for the other health issue was now about to have some light shed on it from the end of a very long tunnel, and the true impact of the loss was about to hit....
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