My Grandpa

My Grandpa passed, I forget how many days ago. It was quiet and peaceful and my parents, Grandma, and Aunt M. were there with him. 

They brought out his old Army picture. He was a WW2 Vet who served in the Army's corp of Engineers as a typist. Later he became a school bus driver, a teacher, and later a college librarian. He was awarded a "Master Teacher" award by peers and students at the college he worked for, which is kind of a big deal. 

This was back on his parents farm.  And this was the day he and my Grandma got married 66 years ago in her parent's home. Grandma said he watched her slip and fall down a flight of stairs in high school, run passed her, and she still married him. 

He liked to fish, travel, look at maps, tell jokes and stories. He and Grandma took me to museums when I was younger and national/historical landmarks. He taught me a lot about gardening, how to paint a shed, and put up with my crazy hair-brained ideas as a kid. He came to every band and choir concert, every play and graduation he could. And he ripped apart every damn paper I ever asked him to look over just to make sure it was good. He was also the only family member who asked me what my writing processes were/are. Well, aside from my Dad but Dad doesn't have to ask because I've already told him. He even let me borrow a word processor for a whole summer to work on a story because my mom only let me have two hours of computer time a day. 

He always talked about wanting to come see me up here in the Pacific Northwest. And we liked to talk about the weather in our respective places. 

He was at war with the squirrels in his backyard. For years this went on. I bought him a stuffed toy squirrel one year for Christmas that he immediately tried to throw away. I used to hide under his pillow or in his bed. Once I even taped it to the ceiling above his bed so he would look up and see it when he tried to go to sleep. I'd often have to rescue the poor toy from a makeshift noose hanging between the dining and family room. But I'd just go hide it again, sometimes in his underwear or sock drawer.

Grandpa wrote a 300+ page history of the college he worked at. It took him a couple of years and then a couple more for someone to finally edit and publish it. They cut a majority of the book, but somewhere, Grandma has all 300+ pages. 

My Grandpa was also a devout Christian and part of Gideon's International, the American Legion, and Association for Retired Teachers. He knew I wasn't going to church anymore. He didn't fuss at me for it. I guess he thought Grandma did enough of that. I think he only yelled at me 2 or 3 times in my whole life. 

At the funeral, one of my Aunt M.'s friends said he was the model of what a good Christian, father, and husband should be, and that he provided a safe place for everyone to be. She's right. 

At the funeral I felt him come in and sit next to me in the pew. Like always he rested his hands on his cane and laughed at something someone said. He was with me for a little bit before he moved away, I think to be near my Grandma, but I was caught up in something someone was saying and then we left had to go to the after funeral receiving line where we thanked people for coming.   

Grandpa's flag, given to my Grandma at his funeral by officers from the Army. 

I wish I could write something more, something more elegant and deserving, but this is what I can manage. And I think Grandpa knows all the things I want to say or tell him, and how much he meant and still means to me.

As much of an update as I can manage.

A lot of stuff has happened in the last two months, all of which has added heavy weights to limbs scratching for the surface of my depression. I’m going to try to put piece it together so I can attempt to make sense of it all.

·         Some friends and I are dealing with the loss of connection with another of our tribe. Some feel that we’re not good enough, all of us are concerned, and some are angry and hurt, or confused. It’s hard not to feel resentment and angry toward the things that created that loss. Maybe it isn’t for us to know or understand. We’ll just have to nurse hurts, pick ourselves up on our end, and love said friend as we always have. But things are different, I feel it, I know it, and I’m still struggling with a lot of it.

·         I’ve had an overwhelming sense of feeling lost. I can’t explain it. I’m not sure which way to turn and can’t seem to decide which path is best because they all look damning. Doesn’t help when others keep stepping in to decide for you and will not shut up long enough for you to actually think and make the decisions you know you can make for yourself if only they would let you breathe.

I am angry because people want me to tell them what I need but how can I say when I don't even know? I do not expect people to be mind readers. I don't expect them to fix it all for me- its not their job and I don't want them to. I know I don't think and feel the same everyone else does, but damn, does anyone have to know the answers or know what they need? Perhaps I am being selfish in my slow sink and not considering others' feelings. But I thought I was by not wanting to bother them and drag the down with me. If that's wrong, I wish someone would tell me. 

·         In-laws have taken over my house and I was powerless to stop them. So, in classic fashion, I rebelled a little and refused to do much of anything. Which in turn got Amanda chewed out. Which then, in turn, got me chewed out. But what else are you supposed to do when the people around you are sucking the joy from your bones? And then, to top it off come snide comments. Fuck you, you won, shut the fuck up and leave me the fuck alone!

·         I had to change medical insurance to keep my therapist because the company I had was doing shady things and about to get into trouble. In doing so, I had to report that Amanda and I got married. That cost me my medical insurance.

·         My stress began manifesting in hot patches of skin and hives.

·         My therapist badgered me to seek out new health insurance and I spent two weeks fighting with the market place people trying to find something we could afford. There is NOTHING we can afford. The deductible is 2 grand, the monthly cost just for me is more than we can swing. There just isn’t money for it. PERIOD.

·         I had a gall bladder attack and ended up in the ER, not know what the hell was going on only that I couldn’t breathe and was passing out.

·         I learned my Grandpa had fallen while sick.

·         My Grandpa died either the next day or the day after- I can’t really remember.

·         We flew to Kansas and spent 4 days. The only blessing was feeling my Grandpa sit down beside me at his funeral, seeing my Grandma, and my parents and cousins for a tiny bit.

·         My Grandma told me every day I was there that Grandpa wished he could have seen me before he died, because I was his girl.

·         Came home and losing Grandpa began to finally register. I couldn’t deal, so I threw myself desperately into writing. It’s the only thing keeping me together.

·         A couple of days later I had another gall bladder attack which resulted in surgery that evening.

·         I did not handle the anesthesia well. There are bruises on my body I can’t account for and the medical staff told me I woke up “wild” and that they had to bring two extra nurses in to hold me down. I did not know where I was or what was going on. I’m scared I hurt someone because if that much effort was used to keep me still, I came out fighting.

·         I got to go home the next day and accident slept on my stomach that night.

·         Second day after surgery was hell. It was not the worst pain I have felt, but close, and bad enough that I was panicking and scared the shit out of Amanda’s Mom. I could not remember when I had taken aleve or when I had taken a pain pill or how many. She counted them and said I was okay, but it was still scary. I’m ALWAYS so careful with pain meds.

·         I’ve been having horrible nightmares since surgery, the kind that leave you upset for days.

·         One of the pieces of tape over my incision sites fell off too soon and I had to put something over it to help keep the wound closed and prevent infection.  

·         I’ve been freaking out a little over the fact that I have been sleeping so much- even though I know I need sleep to heal- and losing writing time.

·         We just learned that my depression/fibro med is going t cost us 240 dollars a month with a prescription assistance card for the generic. We couldn’t afford 130 a month for medical insurance. So now we have to find a different depression med and a medication for fibro that won’t make me gain all the weight I just lost back, that s affordable, or see if there isn’t something- some program- out there to help me stay on my meds. Being without them isn’t an option right now.

·         And I am without my meds today. I’m starting to go through withdrawal while Amanda scrambles at work to find out if an online discount pharmacy is a legitimate and the real deal.

·         I just learned from one of my best friends what she might have ovarian cancer and that there is something wrong with her youngest daughter’s spine. She doesn’t have test results back yet for her or her daughter.

·         I’m worried about my parents and my Grandma. I’m worried about my friend and her kids.

·         I’m worried about the two hospital bills.

The good news:

-          I’m writing  

-          I’m getting lost in music

-          I still love my in laws and am thankful for them taking care of me when I’m sick. At least there is that.

-          Amanda is amazing and she’s putting up with me.

-          UPDATE on meds: Amanda got it worked out and my doctor’s office was super helpful to her.    

October isn't just Orange, Black, Green, and Purple, it's Pink too, time to talk boobies.

While October is filled of spooky haunts and delights, it is also a time of remembrance and honoring of our ancestors. Not only that it is Breast Cancer Awareness month, a topic that is both necessary and a more than a little frightening, but most of all a deeply personal one for me. I'm not usually one to jump on "cause bandwagons" emphatically, but this one I will.  This entry is about me, it's about my Great Aunt, and its about all the women I connect with in day to day life, yeah, that means you too. Hell, its even about the men.

Me, Mom, and Aunt Joan

Taken back in 2002 at my high school graduation, my Great Aunt Joan (pronounced Jo Ann), the lovely lady on the right holding the paper, was hiding a terrible secret from the family. She looks so happy and she played the 'perfectly fine and normal' card our family seems ingrained to play, so well. Damn us Irelands and Richardsons we sure do hate to bother anyone or make anyone worry. I don't know exactly when she learned she had breast cancer, but it was before this. 

Aunt Joan kept this secret until the cancer spread so deeply throughout her body, that her arm snapped while she was trying to open a jar of jam. She didn't even tell her sister, my Grandma Evelyn until that day. The apparent excuse was that she was scared, well no kidding!

As you can imagine it was pretty shocking, difficult, and hard news for our family and for me. I was 18 years old, it was summer, and I was soon to be going off to college an hour away from home. I was never one to believe that people were immortal or invincible, but if there was ever anyone who could do anything, it was Aunt Joan. She was amazing, talented, and a freaking genius. My Dad once called her a Renaissance woman. She'd worked in the Forest service in Estes Park, Colorado. She'd traveled, she'd moved home to help take care of Great Grandma Ireland. She was a teacher of college math and even taught herself calculus just from reading a text book. She was the only person to explain mathematical ratios to me in a way I could understand. She knew so much and was so fun to be around. More than that, she I don't remember her ever losing her patience with me as a kid even though I was wild and had ADHD. She was the only Aunt I ever had a positive, healthy, and good relationship with. I wanted to be just like her and still do in a lot of ways. 

She kept teaching at Butler County Community College for a little while, until she couldn't. I got to come home and visit her a couple of times. The last time I saw her, it was devastating. Aunt Joan was so frail, so thin, and she was struggling to breathe. I wanted to talk to her but she was sleeping and one of her friends who was staying with her at the hospital promised to tell her that I had come to see her.  Two days later, my Dad called me at school and told me she'd passed away. I did not handle this well, in fact. 

We had her funeral, she was cremated. She has a headstone out in Toronto, Kansas next to Great Grandparents. Her ashes were later taken to Christi Meadows, Colorado where she had spread the ashes of her beloved dog, Rose, several years before. 

  

Since her loss, I have had developed a horrible, hateful relationship with my breasts. I decided that there was no reason to get attached to something that would just betray me. I didn't want to feel anything for them and so I never really allowed romantic partner to touch them. I didn't even like touching them. I thought, why get attached when they are just going to rot and try to kill you? In fact, I decided that if there was ever any hint of cancer found, I would just have them removed asap. 

Amanda likes my double d's and likes to touch them, its something I have had to get used to, to learn to like. But even now, I find myself scared to let myself enjoy them, to like them, to want to flaunt them, or to even care about them. 

But this isn't good either. Its hard to get over or passed something like this. It is hard to deal with the fall out, the emotional upheaval and so on. It is hard to lose someone and be afraid for your Grandmas, your Mom, your Aunts, your cousins, and other member of your family and even your friends. 

We walk along every day thinking that everything will go as usual, that nothing bad is going to happen, that we won't get sick, or we hope we won't get sick. No one wants to think about Cancer and all its painful ugliness. No one wants to think that they might become its prey or that that someone they love might. We try to ignore it. Well, we need to stop. We need to touch and check our boobies and get our mammograms. sure getting the mammies smashed isn't pleasant, but if you can catch it early, it certainly beast dying too soon. It beats leaving someone in your family utterly devastated. 

So tell your friends and family, and yes, guys too because they can get it. Most importantly tell yourself. I'm asking you to do this because I don't want to see anyone else waste away and die from this. 

For more information and guide check the National Breast Cancer site. 

This is a really sad week

People die every day. I get that and I've certainly lost a lot of people in my family, friends of family, and even friends from high school. I've lost people who meant a lot to me and made a serious impact on my life if not a few others. So, I get it and understand it's a natural course of life. It still sucks. 

This week the world lost one of its talented musicians, David Bowie. I don't own every record and I wasn't a huge mega fan, but I had my favorites and kind of grew up listening to him. Amanda on the other hand has almost every single album of his, including covers other people have done. He influenced her, was a part of her life through music. He brought her happiness through song and even through the films he was in. 

As much as I liked Bowie, Alan Rickman had a slightly larger impact on me. Growing up he was my favorite Villain in Die Hard. My parents watched that one a lot, right along with Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. I loved him in Galaxy Quest and Harry Potter and many more roles. He made me fall in love with his character in Sense and Sensibility and I envied Maryanne.  His voice was different and had a tone that I simply loved. He was a wonderful actor and I loved seeing him in films.

Both of these iconic men died from cancer. I fucking hate cancer. I've seen what it does to people first hand, my Great Aunt fought, suffered, and died from breast cancer. What I want to know is, if we have all this technology, all this medicine, why can't we find a cure for cancer? Why are we spending more time watching the Trump/Bernie/Hillary show, blowing people up, tearing others down, fighting over women's reproductive organs, who can marry who, and whether or not to let refugees into the country when we could devote that energy to something worth while?  

Good night my grouchy duke, Galen Galadmir

When I was 15 and very soon to turn 16, I told my parents I didn't want a birthday party or anything big. I just wanted a cat for Yoda, my other kitty. My Dad groaned about it but my Mom was all for it. She found Galen, who was really too little to be taken from his Mama at the time but the old couple who had him and the rest of his litter were just going to give him away any way. So I got this cute little black cat who had to be fed kitten formula via an eye dropper. He grew up grouchy and was an ass to mostly everyone but he had really sweet moments. For instance, he loved your pain. If I cried, he would let me pet him. He also really loved pizza. He'd steal it right off your plate if you weren't paying attention. 

Saturday night we took Galen to a 24 hour emergency vet clinic to be put to sleep. He'd had bronchitis for quite awhile and we'd tried medicine, antibiotics from the vet, and nothing seemed to be working. He lost weight and muscle mass could barely walk much less breathe, and Amanda and I both think he basically hung on long enough for us to return home from our trip to Seattle. We told him it was okay to go. We think he passed before the euthanasia was injected into his system. 

I miss him. I keep thinking he's in the other room drooling on something or glaring at someone. 

I am pissed at the nurse at the 24 hour clinic. I am not angry with her for telling us that by law they have to report and take a brain sample to test for rabies. I understand that as much as I know and understand that Galen was an indoor cat his whole life and only bit Amanda's Mom by accident when she was giving him his medicine while we were gone. What I am angry about is that she decided to tell us how they were going to do while he was still alive, in the room, and after we'd already decided and given in the okay for them to keep him and cremate him for us. We didn't have a place we could have taken him to for burial that night and we have dogs in our neighborhood. And I am angry with how long the nurse drug it out. I am angry with the doctor because she came in and wanted to put my cat on a cold metal slab when we'd already said we wanted to hold him. 

The only reason I didn't wait to take Galen to my vet was because he was suffering. I will be writing a review for the clinic. I will be writing a letter to the clinic's management but this will be done when I have had time to cool down and get my head on straight. I don't want the nurse to lose her job. I just want her to think before she speaks next time. 

Getting back on the wagon...

Wow, he's pretty!

Rocking out to a Gothic tag radio on LastFm. It;s really nice to hear bands I haven't heard for awhile. I have an app on my kindle fire that plays a German Gothic station but it doesn't tell me who the bands are, so unless I recognize one, I'm left wondering who is playing. And for some reason I can't seem to find which station it is on the internet-not that I have looked very hard. But given recent circumstances, I haven't done much of anything productive per se.

I've done some laundry, dyed my hair back to the usual black, and registered for my 4th term of school. I've ordered my textbooks, bought Skoora and I a much needed book shelf, and filled the car up with gas. I've also bought my meds and replaced some of the things we were out of. I haven't started any of the sewing stuff but I did attend a class done by my pagan group about essential oils.  

Saying that I miss my Yoda-Chan is an understatement. I bought a picture frame and ordered some prints of photos I had of him and made a sort of memorial for him. I've also removed his bed from under the bathroom sink because every time I went in there I kept wanting to open the door and check on him. It's habit. Most of the time I am okay but sometimes a bouts of hurt and sadness leak out. This is where I feel like I must be broken somewhere. I know, from far too much experience, that grief comes in waves. I've lost a lot of family members to various things: cancer, old age, sickness, stroke ect... I've known death wasn't far off for some and some were taken so suddenly it was a shock. I've even been in the room when the machines were turned off on a Grandmother and listened to her die. I could have left, but I wanted her to know I was there. Either way, you'd think I would be used to this. I know all the song and dance for funerals, cleaning out houses, dividing stuff, and dealing with bills and such. And I have lost kitties before too. I don't, maybe after the last couple of years I just don't handle things as well as I used to. But maybe I think I should have for an extension for this week instead of last week for my homework. Seems like I shut off until about a week after someone I care about dies. I shut down just enough to go through the motions of taking care of business.

Well, it's not going to do me any good now. I have a paper to write and far too much text book and article reading. Skoora thinks the amount of reading I have to do isn't necessary and when she gets home tomorrow (Yay, she'll be back from Boston!) she said she was going to help me break it down. Apparently I am doing more than I have to. I didn't think so. I was doing what I was assigned. Oh well, if there is a way to do less work and still get a fantastic grade, great. Honestly, though, I don't really care about this WW2 class anymore. I was really excited for it in the beginning. But we aren't learning about German propaganda, the Thule Society, or even much about the Third Reich. There's some really cool stuff, but mostly its all who attacked who when, battle lines, and what kind of technology/machinery/weapons being used. That's cool and all, but not what I was looking for. It also doesn't help that my cat died or that I have been completely bogged down and stressed out just about getting the weekly assignments done aside from the big thesis paper. For someone who reads slow and has some dyslexia issues... yeah. Well, I will suck it up and get on with my life. I just don't care if I get above a B... hell, at this point, I just want to pass the class and call it good. Which really isn't like me at all. I'm kind of one of those people who shoots for the A grade all the time. 

Skoora and I have been talking little bits here and there. I have decided that I want another kitty. It won't replace Yoda, no kitty ever could. Galen is kind of a jerk and he won't cuddle with me. Not saying he isn't good enough or that I don't love him because I really do, he's just a cat with a different temperament- that and I think he might be autistic, if cats can be autistic. I am being serious. Right now he's curled up on my bed sleeping. Anyway, the local humane society is running a summer adoption special and it's this month only. So we kind of have to get on it when Skoora gets back. I seem to connect better with male cats, not sure why that is, so I've kind of been looking at the boys on the site. Still I would never turn down a girl kitty if she called to me.  I even made a list of names I like. I mean, since I can't have human children, it's kind of fun to look at names for animal children. Skoora only likes a couple of the names and not the ones I am really feeling either.  She likes Konstantin and Narcisa and suggested Alistair be added to the list. Personally, I really like Cosmina, Drahomira and Sorina for girl names. For boy names, I like Radek, Radomir, Dragos, Fane, and Kostya. But that's just me. 

Anyway, since Skoora told me to relax and take the night off, I am going to do just that. I've been kind of panicking, restless, and weepy all day. I'll probably break out the coloring books and colored pencils or something, listen to music, maybe watch a movie and take a shower. I kind of want to do my nails. I haven't really done much of anything too girly for myself in awhile. Then again, I kind of want to write too. I've kind of been feeling the urge and I am not quite sure what's keeping me from actually doing it. I wonder if I am afraid of something? Honestly through some self reflection, emotionally or mentally or both, I've realized that I have a few blocks that I need to punch through. I know they are there, I'm just not sure what all of them are. *sigh* 

I forgot to mention something in my last post...

It seems to strange that something like this would slip my mind or not be at least more prevalent in trains of thought... But perhaps I was focusing more on other things.

My Mom had a best friend while I was growing up and until recent years when said friend became a pill popping junkie and did some things that I won't mention, they were very good friends. Sadly, despite how angry we were with her and this outcome not being totally unexpected, she died from a drug over dose. She wasn't found until 24 hours after she'd died, alone, on the floor in her house last week. It was still a shock and it still stings and we are going to miss her. We might have been upset with her but it didn't keep us from caring for her and wondering if she was alright and what not. It wasn't that we wanted to cut her off, it was that if we didn't, she'd only find ways to take things from us to hurt herself.

On a lighter note, Amanda's cousin Bob flew down to Oklahoma to visit his girlfriend. Yesterday, they drove up for a visit and this is the first time in a year that we've gotten to see Bob. It's really nice. At the moment we're talking about magic cards.