days before we got Max. And how lonely I was.
There weren’t any toys on the family room floor. There were no sheets or blankets on the furniture. When it got dark, the house was closed up and I didn’t go back out. I didn’t get frustrated not knowing what this creature wanted or what he was thinking.
And I didn’t get puppy kisses, or happy dances when I got home. I didn’t have friends and I didn’t go very far.
I guess I’ll keep him . Cuz I can’t imagine going back to living without him.
I’m annoyed with the Golden Retriever board.
I’m annoyed with facebook
I’m annoyed with Amazon
I’m very annoyed with Verizon
I’m annoyed with my body
I hurt most of the time. I have a chronic condition – I hate to even say that. I’m tired of hurting. Yep, I’m tired.
So I went looking for support groups and found next to nothing. Guess that means I have to support myself! The best advice I saw was to turn the pain into a positive, to focus on the good stuff instead of inviting in the hurt. By saying to myself, “my chest hurts,” I’m sort of affirming that my chest does, indeed, hurt. So I’m trying to tell myself that yes, it hurts, but not that much! If I let it get to me, I’ll sit down and cry and do nothing and it hurts no matter what, it hurts when I do nothing, it hurts when I do stuff, so I may as well do stuff!
I’m annoyed with Amazon because they removed the quick link to the 100 top free Kindle books from my Fire. But I’ve adjusted. I can simply type “free” into the search box on the books page, and it brings up the list.
I’m annoyed with facebook because seriously, why do people use it as a diary and then get mad when people comment? If you put your stupid decisions out there, you’re asking me to judge them. Kinda like – if you use your phone in public, you’re asking me to comment on your conversation.
I called Verizon last week about a problem we’ve been having with our DSL. Simple question – can you check the modem? I got a guy in India, with a very heavy accent. I told him, politely, that I was having difficulty understanding him, and asked to speak to someone with less of an accent. He refused to transfer me to another agent. After 20 minutes of me asking him to repeat himself at least twice for every sentence he spoke, and asking him several more times to transfer me, I hung up. I called back, pressing different numbers this time, and got a guy who said he would have to transfer me to customer service. I begged him not to send me to India, telling him what had just happened. He told me to ask to to speak to someone in America, that they were required by law to transfer me. Again I got someone with a heavy accent, told him to transfer me to America. He put me on hold for 20 minutes. When someone picked up, it was a girl with a very heavy accent. I told her to transfer me. She said she’d open a case file. I said, “no, you won’t, please transfer me.” She put me on hold for 15 minutes. Finally I got a girl who said she was in California – and within 5 minutes the problem I was having with the DSL was resolved. So I go online to register a complaint with Verizon, because this is ridiculous – and can’t find a link, an email address, a phone number, nothing! After searching for close to an hour, I found an email address and sent off a letter – which I’m sure will have no effect, but I felt better!
I have way too much to do this week. And I’m going to be grateful for the fact that I have the ability to get it all done.
Back a few years ago, there was a thing that people did on blogs – where are you from? I started it and never finished it, but the part I did stated that I am from quilts, from fabric cut into small pieces and made anew into something better, stronger, more beautiful. I grew up with quilts, watching my mother cut fabric and sew tiny pieces together to make blocks, thread needles and sew tiny stitches to hold the quilt top to the back, lying on the living room floor to pin the back, the batting and the top together.
I made my share of quilts through the years. I started with a piece of fabric that had a Raggedy Ann print, on top of a plain back, quilted in straight lines from one corner to the other. I made a pattern called Grandmother’s Flower Garden for my best friend, another one for a friend’s baby – that one was tiny hexagons sewn by hand.
The last quilt I finished took over 8 years. Quilting was a love I shared with my mother – she used to say that while she was finishing one, she was planning the next. She taught me everything I know about putting a quilt together – about planning, choosing fabric, sewing seams just so.
When she died, I didn’t pick up a needle for 5 years. I had started a quilt, a Double Irish Chain, for my best friend. She got married the weekend before 9/11 – and my mother died a year later. The quilt was pinned, and the quilting was begun. I had to move, from the home I’d called mine for years, but that’s another story. The quilt was rolled and packed, and pulled out a few times, but very little progress was made. It hurt my heart to work on it, and I found excuses to let it lay.
After we moved into the house, and the excuses didn’t really fly any more, I brought it out and finished it. It felt good, it was the closing of a chapter in my life. Or so I thought.
My best friend’s daughter is getting married. I adore that girl, she’s a rotten brat but I love her like she was my own. On impulse, I offered to make her a quilt as a wedding present, and she was thrilled. She chose, of all things, Double Irish Chain.
We chose fabric, I bought some fun things like marking pencils and a template for the squares, floss to sew the corners down, everything I could think I’d need.
Pressing the fabric was the first step. Something about folding the fabric over the ironing board opened a door in my heart, a door that’s been closed for 10 years. Memories have been washing over me for the past week – memories of the snick my mother’s scissors made as she cut fabric on the dining room table, memories of my niece sewing blocks on Mother’s machine, of the three of us pinning her quilt together, tying it off, sewing the borders. A niece who no longer speaks to me, she was such a big part of my life.
I thought the pain would be less as the years went by. And then I cut a piece of fabric – and opened up a wound that will apparently never heal.
Trying to get back to what passes for normal around here. I miss Anna. I have a doll she made, and I’ll have another next week. It helps a little, to have something that she made, that she loved. But it doesn’t make the hurt go away.
I’ll get there. Somehow
I don’t handle grief well. I didn’t really want to get out of bed, but I made myself get up. It was so hot, too hot to do anything outside. Bear wasn’t feeling well – yet another worry for me – he works too hard in this heat and then pays for it the next day.
One week ago. Today we should have been going to visit Anna. Instead, I stayed in bed till I couldn’t stay there any longer. I read, and knit, and finally weeded the bank, and got dirty, and cried every once in a while.
I know the pain will ease. I know that she knew I loved her, and I know that she loved me, and Max. I know that the hurt is me missing her, and that she’s dancing in Heaven, dancing with the angels, and hopefully, taking a break to go visit Hazel and Edward. I can so clearly picture the three of them, having coffee, or a drink, and laughing, telling stories about me.
Tomorrow will be one more day to cross off the calendar. One more day without all the people I’ve lost.
And one more day with the man I love, the dog I love, the home I love, and the life I love. The joy WILL defeat the pain. It’ll just take time.
Every now and again, I ask my mother for help. Actually, I ask for her help on a daily basis – doubting that I will ever fully recover from her death, I find ways to connect with her still.
Before she died, she told me to look for pennies. She said, “I’ll send you pennies to let you know I’m still with you.”
And so she has. Many pennies over the past ten years, in response to many a desperate plea for help.
When I had to have cardiac catheterization, she left a penny in the middle of my cell phone – on the bathroom counter – while I was in the shower. When I was worried about a strange thing we found on one of Max’s teeth, she left a penny in Mark’s bathroom. When Mark was stressed about work, she left pennies on his desk three days in a row. (He didn’t really pay attention the first two times, so she made sure he got the message!)
Yesterday I moved the rug in front of my shower – and there lay a penny.
Thank you, Mother. Thank you for still taking care of me.
It was one of those days.
I’m fighting the soreness, and the anxiety, and it’s making me cranky and impatient. Every time I have to be somewhere, that’s when Max decides that it’s time to dawdle. The heat is making him nuts, too. He wants out – then it’s too hot so he wants in – but maybe he didn’t really want in, let’s try out again. Nope, he was right, back in. Repeat. And repeat again. All day long.
sigh
Something is wrong with the phones. Bear unplugged one and now it’s not working
sigh
On to the good stuff
The biscornu is almost finished and it looks pretty good
Three more classes, only two lectures, to go, and then several weeks of vacation. Very badly needed vacation.
happy sigh
it’s hot
It’s uncomfortable and humid and yucky
but it is NOT snow
and that’s another happy sigh
According to the doctor, it’s costo chondiritis (google it, if you must)
So now I have prednisone for a week and I’m telling everyone to expect roid rage. 🙂
I’m extremely tired, but the pain is much better. Still sore, but not so bad. It’s not life threatening, just annoying.
Sunday feels like a dream
From a long time ago.
And then we were at the hospital and they were taking me out of the ambulance and I felt like I was on a roller coaster going downhill. Finally opened my eyes, and found myself rolling down a hall. It made me sick, so I closed my eyes again. They put me in the hall, I curled up in a ball and wanted to go to sleep, but they kept asking me questions. Then Mark was there, and I curled into him and held on.
He was strong, and solid, and I was safe as long as he was there. But I couldn’t stop crying because I caused a fuss an YOU DON’T CAUSE A FUSS! (There’s nothing wrong with you, quit your nonsense!)
Finally a doctor came along and said they were going to do a chest x-ray and take blood and that it would be awhile. I told Mark to go home and feed Max and tried to go to sleep. My best friend’s daughter was suddenly there – asking me what I was doing and making me laugh. (She’s a nurse, was on her way home when her mom texted her that I was in the ER and she turned around and came back.)
Chest x-rays clear. Let’s do an ultra sound of the belly in case of gall bladder. Nope, that’s fine, too. Back to the hall. Finally, someone came along and took blood. And gave me a blanket. Bless you, sweet nurse, I was very cold. And still having random chest twinges.
After another long wait, they moved me to another wing, the ETCU (I have no clue what that means), and left me in a room alone, where again I fell asleep. And then Mark was there, big strong Bear of my heart, to make me better. I cried some more. I hate worrying him. 😦
At midnight, they took more blood and about 1/2 hour later came back and said the test was negative, no heart damage, no heart attack. There had been a monitor on me for about 3 hours, during which I was having twinges, and nothing showed up there or on the EKG.
They took the IV port out of my arm – which hurt like a bitch the entire time it was in there – and sent us home. I was asleep soon after we got home. Max was quite uninterested in the whole thing. I felt sad that he didn’t seem to notice or care. Sigh
Tomorrow I have an appointment with the family doctor. Still having twinges. Still having anxiety attacks. Still crying intermittently. But I’m determined that whatever this is, I’m tougher.
And I suspect it’s only a case of tendonitis.
Suziecreamcheese Sings the Blues 
