Kimmy,
Look at where you've been.

It's where you are now, that lets you be able to say that.

Whenever we climb the mountain, we forget the climb when we stand on the peak. The sweat evaporates.

I do agree that the good is more than the bad. The joy, more than the sorrow.

God said (and this quote is from memory, not exact) "By the sweat of thy face thou shalt earn thy bread all the days of thy life."

I struggle, but it's a good struggle, and rewarding. It results in personal growth, and that "standing on the peak" feeling is here more and more.

You have your family with you, and that is enough for you. Graycloud doesn't have that, and he's not a mother. It's............ it's different for men, even with family close. I don't know if I can explain it.

I do agree with you in spirit - life is a joy in so many ways. I think when we reach the end, it will be the victories, not the struggles that we will remember.

I know it's a great gift to know so many wonderful people.

SS

"Yes. AND it takes 7 minutes for a fully submerged 12 oz. bottled beer to get cold enuf to be pleasing."

Agreed. I call it "Titanic Water". Works like a charm.

"- Kimmy, who used to own 2 bars"

I used 2 own 2 beers!

These days, I just rent.

-ol' 2long <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/wink.gif" alt="" />

2Long....have I told you today that you are too cute for color tv?

We should form a club...

Oh, wait! We have....it's called GC's Campfire.........


LOL!

SS - Maybe it's the word "struggle"....it's work, yeah...and it's sucky work sometimes....sometimes the work sucks so hard I'm afraid I'm one big hickey....but it's all work....rewarding/sucky/plodding/contented work.....

>It's............ it's different for men, even with family close

men are different....weirdly wonderfully different.....GC's day is coming....his rewards are coming....I KNOW it.

Struggles (not addressing anyone by name, mind you):

It wasn't 2 many months ago that I 4mulated a deadline in my cranium that went like this:

My W is taking her class 2 OOSP next month for the first time sanctioned by the college (she gets paid, they get credit).

I'm going 2 my annual pilgrimage 2 my telescope makers' thingy Memorial weekend.

My scheming cranium said 2 me (or maybe it was the Jiminy Cricket in the red suit with the horns?): "If she makes an excuse not 2 go 2 your thingy, you should say you're not going 2 OOSP anymore!"

Over the weekend, as she was looking at her busy schedule preparing for OOSP, she said "Looks like I won't have time 2 go 2 your thingy this year". 2which I replied: "Okay, I understand. Looks like the kids will be busy 2, so I'll be on my own this time."

That was it. I mulled over my Jiminy Cricket-imposed deadline for a few hours after that, but decided it's not anything 2 be concerned about.

Life goes on. On and on, till it ends.

-ol' 2long

Sounds like the name of an epileptic hamster.



Is that like time marches on? (and on....usually all over one's face)

I'm sorry 2Long. You sound a little bit disappointed.
<img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/frown.gif" alt="" />

- Kimmy

Sorry 2 sound fatalistic with that.

Sort of a paraphrase of Dr. Seuss' "Happy Birthday 2 You" (my all-time favorite, and I'm a HUGE fan).

Followed by: "When it ends, you're much happier, richer and fatter, and the Bird flies you home on a very soft platter." <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/cool.gif" alt="" />

-ol' 2long

Thanks for the good word, SS & Kimmy.

My progress is measureable, but glacial. I'm alone more than I like. I'm a social critter.

GC

This one goes in my book.

GC

???Book???


Is it a HAPPY book GC?

This is a long update. I posted the first part over on the SYMC thread about HoFS. Today's update hasn't been posted there yet because I can't get there from where I am right now. Sigh.

I'd like to have some of that beer and comfort now. Sneakers and sweaters is about right.

------------------------------------------------------

I spoke to HoFS a little while ago. He had just come from another visit to the doctor. He has a small hole in the incision in the back of his leg. You remember the one – the one that’s a six-inch long “S” shape. It’s been seeping blood for the past few days. Not gushing, but not stopping either. A few tablespoons of blood, perhaps, over three days.

Under the surface, there’s something called a hematoma. That’s where blood has collected, probably from a broken blood vessel, in a pool like a giant blood blister. It’s turning his skin yellow and red, and there’s a lump there under the skin where it has pooled.

Then there are the blood thinners. His dosage is not quite high enough yet, so they’ve increased it a bit.

And there’s the question of his overall blood levels and status, because he’s been bleeding so much. He tells me that his calf is hard and red and the parts that aren’t red are yellow – the color of bruises.

His general practitioner, whom HoFS saw today, is not terribly worried about all this. He told him to see his surgeon about the bleeding and the hematoma, and put dressings on it that need to be changed each day. And yet here is a man who is bleeding and who is on blood thinners and who is not getting better. I’m worried about all this, even if his doctor is not.

When I was there, I noticed a spot that was more swollen than the rest. I eventually decided that it was just the overall swelling of his leg, rather than something different. How do you tell one bit of swelling from another? How do you distinguish swelling from blood that’s not getting back to the heart because of a clot, versus from blood that’s not getting back to the heart because it has wandered out of a blood vessel and gone elsewhere, versus from fluids that are swelling into a limb because of surgery and pain and fluid retention? I wish there were a doctor actually paying attention to all of this. I’m worried that without someone paying attention to the whole man and giving integrated health care, they’ll miss something.

This morning HoFS said to me that he hadn’t done something that relates to him working from home because he thought they might just put him in the hospital today. It wasn’t until then that I really understood that something was significantly different from when I left on Thursday. Oh, he’d told me about each of the things he saw, but I wasn’t putting it together into a whole picture, and didn’t really do it completely until he saw the doctor. It’s frustrating, not being able to see or touch him, not being able to see for myself how he is.

When I did finally understand, I shut down and couldn’t deal with it. I got off the phone with him and took DD, who was waiting somewhat impatiently, to the swimming pool. She was very happy to finally climb in the water, and for half an hour or more, I ignored all of reality except for me, her, and the water. We had fun. She kicked her feet and blew bubbles and put her ears in the water and pulled with her arms. And she shrieked and laughed, squealed and giggled. Though I’ve told her that HoFS is sick and isn’t getting better yet, she is not affected by the news the way an adult is. She listens, she accepts, and then she goes on.

She feels, I suspect, no sense of responsibility, no sense that she should be doing something to make it better. Inadequacy, this kind anyway, is a very grownup experience. Oh, we probably all felt it when we were young. But somehow, it still seems that when you’re 3 years old, it’s not your main concern.

After that hour of mental holiday, I was finally able to turn back to thinking about HoFS and his situation. He was at the doctor by then, and so we did other things while I waited to hear. We took a shower and got the chlorine out of our hair, then I got dressed in the most relaxed fashion I have in some time while DD lay on the bath mat under a towel. She sucked her thumb the entire time, unusual for her. Then we watched some TV and I checked my e-mail and worked for a while. It was something on HBO Family, a channel I’ve never seen before.

(Did I mention that I’ve been on a short vacation with my parents and sister this weekend? Hot Springs, Arkansas, where my mom grew up.)

First there was a reading of The Nightmare in My Closet, and then kids talking about dreams. There was a reading of Goodnight Moon and then a rendition of Hush Little Baby. Very much like our bedtime routine, actually, and DD curled up on the bed, still naked, and sucked her thumb while she watched it. I think if we had been able to stay there, she would have fallen asleep.

But we couldn’t stay just then – I got her dressed and then we headed for the airport. We saw Santa one more time when we went into the lobby. Santa? Oh yeah. Santa stopped by our table last night at dinner. He was wearing jeans and a baseball cap, and might’ve had a Harley t-shirt on. He asked me, very politely, whether he could give DD this picture of himself? And there was a picture of him and Mrs. Claus, dressed for the holiday season. I looked up at this man who did indeed have eyes that twinkled like Santa’s, and I chuckled. “Sure,” I said. “Thank you.”

It’s a risk for me to do something like that. DD is Jewish and my family celebrates a secular Christmas each year. My ex is quite threatened by Santa and worries that he will somehow seduce her away from her path as a good Jewish girl. If we were still together, I might very well cave to her desire that Santa not be a part of this little girl’s Christmas experiences. But we’re not together, and there’s no way that it will work in my family for the youngest child – in fact, the only child – be the only one excluded from our family’s celebration of the magical parts of Christmas. In my family, everyone under the roof receives a gift from Santa, even if it is only the bits of chocolate and doodads that arrive in the stocking.

So this last year was the most recent of the ongoing battles about how Santa and DD will interact. We came to something that I think is workable, or at least balanced, in that it pissed off my mom and my ex about equally. *sigh*

In any case, here it is Beltane. So clearly it’s time to have Santa stop by in the teeny bopper café in the airport Holiday Inn in Little Rock, Arkansas.

So all this, or some of it, runs through my head in the pause between looking at this man and says, “Sure, thanks!”

And so he hands the picture to my daughter and then I see the words on the back. I should’ve figured it, don’t know why I didn’t. “Jesus” in big letters, and “WWJD?” and “John 3:16” and something from Revelations, though I don’t recall the verse. And then there was silence and pained looks around the table as my parents and I acknowledged that this was not something my daughter – their granddaughter – should have. And yet how to make this as small an influence on her as possible? Taking it out of her hands right then wouldn’t work, so it was left alone until later.

We saw Santa several more times. When DD and I went down to breakfast before going to the pool, he and Mrs. Claus and another man – maybe one of the elves? – were sitting there having breakfast. He started to give DD another picture and I smiled and said no thanks, she’d gotten one last night. So instead he offered peppermints. DD shied away, which I was glad to see, and Santa handed the candies to me instead. We went on towards the breakfast buffet, and after a few seconds DD asked me, “Mama, why did Santa come to lunch?”

I grinned at that and said I didn’t know, but she could ask him if she wanted. She decided she didn’t want to. When they left the dining room, DD and I were still eating our breakfast. In fact, we were sucking on the mints he’d given us while I finished my coffee. He stopped and handed DD an angel drawing on thick paper, something that she could color if she wanted to.

The last time we saw him was when we went down to the lobby, remember? After all the stress of the morning, and more to come in the afternoon, there was Santa, pleased as punch to see that DD was taking her dolly for a walk. We probably didn’t match at all, DD and I. I was in jeans and a t-shirt with a blazer over it. I could have gone into meetings at most workplaces looking like that. DD was in white shorts and a hot pink t-shirt, carrying a dolly. She was not dressed for the workplace. And yet this is how we go around, me in professional or business casual attire, her in summer kid’s clothes.

I’m sitting on the plane right now, 35,000 feet above Tennesee. She’s sound asleep with her head on my lap, covered up by that same jacket. I know how to mix and balance this much of my life. Her, me, my work, SYMC – that’s a balance I’ve been managing for three years, and I’m comfortable with it.

But the balance is off right now. Badly so, and I can feel it dragging on me. There’s more to my life now than her, me, my work, and SYMC. There’s HoFS. HoFS who is in Ohio by himself, with no family but his ex and his boys close by. I went last week in the middle of the week, and I’m glad I went. It also showed me where the limits of my personal system are. I could do it – barely – because a bunch of folks including my work and my ex were flexible and willing to help out. And I still got stressed by the things I hadn’t done in the few short hours I was home between trips, and even more by having gone three days without seeing DD. Three days is too long for a regular thing, and the next time I have a few days free isn’t until mid-May. I’m already planning to go to Ohio then, and will go when she’s with me Memorial Day weekend as well.

But that leaves a lot of time. And back at the beginning of this message I told you what I learned while I was in the airport. A hematoma, bleeding into the calf, seeping at the incision, blood thinners, and medical care that doesn’t feel solid to me. My system is at its capacity. I can’t leave DD for longer than I already have without negatively affecting her – and I can’t leave my home and my work without starting to hurt my own life as well.

On Saturday night my parents went to a party that was part of my mom’s reunion. That left me with DD and my sister. My sister is nearly 36 years old. She’s mentally handicapped and slightly physically handicapped as well. Her speech is nowhere near as clear as DD’s language, and her ability to grasp concepts is behind DD’s as well. I’d put her where DD was maybe six months ago. A permanent toddler.

Before they went down to their party, my parents were talking about my dad’s bad back. A couple weeks ago he picked up a 100-pound planter at their condominium and wrenched his back in the process. So he was hobbling around.

Dinner with just the two of them was something of an adventure. My parents, not thinking very carefully, sent us down to the fancy dining room in the hotel where we were staying. I almost turned around and went elsewhere, but didn’t. By the end of the meal, DD had tossed her shrimp across the table, tried to yank the whole table cloth off of the table, spat in the soup, and thrown a screaming tantrum. My sister was much better behaved. She may have the intellect of a toddler, but emotionally she’s much more mature. There were several times when she was the one who got up with DD and walked around with her.

Still, I wondered how I would survive if I had to deal with both of them. And then I recalled my dad, remembered that he’s laid up as well. Another one that’s not fully able to participate. And my mom’s back, with its bone spur and weird spinal curvature, means she hasn’t been able to be fully active since I was DD’s age. She’s adjusted very well and can do lots of things, but it’s always there.

My brothers had chosen not to participate in the family craziness and more and more, that seems to be their choice about family things. It’s too much emotional stress for them to handle, it seems.

And then there’s HoFS, still at home in Ohio, still seeping blood and trying not to move and trying not to worry me with the level of “this isn’t going right” that he was feeling, but now I know it.

Everywhere I turn, I see people who need some level of caregiving. It hit me several times this weekend.

And again it hit me on the plane, when HoFS sent me a few more texts. On the phone with his brother, figuring out when he could come out. He’ll be in Ohio for a night and will stay over on Wednesday. HoFS’ parents had offered to come, but some medical stuff of HoFS’ dad’s is preventing them. And HoFS’ kids are pretty much out of patience with HoFS’ inability to do things for himself.

So where is the caregiving going to come from? How do we manage like this?

Somewhere in all this, I started feeling pretty darned overwhelmed. I know that there are services that can handle many of the things that need to be handled. That cleaning and cooking service Dylan mentioned is starting to sound more and more important.

I know that I could care for all of the people who currently need it.

I know, too, that I can earn a good living and keep up my own household.

And I know that I can’t do both. No matter how much I want to, there is no physical way to be in all the places I need to be in, there is not time in the day to make it all happen. And I don’t have the emotional, financial, or physical reserves to bounce back and forth between them like a ping pong ball. I found my limits, at least for right now, already.

I love HoFS very, very much. And it’s the worst kind of powerless and inadequate to be unable to help him right now. I haven’t even mentioned the fact that our babysitter gave notice last week while I was in Ohio and we don’t have a replacement, nor have I mentioned the discussions my attorney is having with my ex’s attorney about DD’s schedule.

And it’s a darned good thing that things are quiet at work, because that means that I can work in bits and pieces of hours spread out over the course of several days and still not miss that many hours of work. I only had to take 22 hours of leave in the month of April.

Only.

And yet I know that I can’t do that in May, nor in June. In July I’m supposed to already have plans for trips.

And I haven’t talked about the bruises on my shoulders from carrying bags and DD at the same time. I haven’t talked about the juggling that’s just part of the background of my life. I used to long for someone to help with some of those things. I wanted my family back, my structure of stability and support that made life so much easier to figure out. I don’t long for my ex anymore. I wish her and her new husband well.

But I wish that I had that level of support in my life, and even more than that. This virtual community of ours is wonderful and I’m glad it’s here. And it has some real limitations. I wish I knew how to change that.

------------------------------------------------------


And now it’s another day and there’s been another trip to see another doctor. This one prescribed an antibiotic “just in case,” and strongly recommended that HoFS not travel. “Well… you could. But I’d really hate for this incision to open up on you while you’re up there.” Uh, yeah, okay, got it. He’s also under orders to keep his leg as still as he can, and particularly to avoid bending his knee. The surgeon says it’s probably going to take six weeks to get through this particular part.

Whoever said that about taking up a collection for some help for HoFS? Uh, I’m thinking it might be time.

Here’s the theory of what’s going on. The cyst that he had on the back of his knee apparently created pathways for the blood to flow. In other words, it opened up spaces between his muscles and stuff. Then he had the clot, and thus blood thinners, and that is probably what allowed the internal blood vessel to open up and start bleeding. The timing of when things happened would seem to indicate that that’s how it went, anyway. There is no particular action that’s needed – it’s something that takes time to heal, is all, and will be slowed down by the blood thinners that he has in his system.

So. He won’t be coming to visit me anytime soon. And I miss him a lot. It’s kind of an all-over body ache that never quite goes away no matter how busy I am with other things. Somewhere deep down inside of me, there is someone throwing one heck of a tantrum about not getting to be held in his arms. Well, maybe she’s not throwing a tantrum. Maybe she’s just curled up in a ball. Hard to say sometimes.

I know I'm a piss poor substitute, but I've got my arms around you right now JJ.

(((((((((JJ))))))))))))))

J,
All of us have been where you are now.

Not for the same reasons. Not doing the same things, but we have been there, and we understand, and we care about what happens.

Were it not for the bitter, the sweet wouldn't mean what it does. Hold on, the ship is not sinking, it's just going through a storm. We'll pray for the sun to shine, and for a calm when you reach the further shore.

And maybe..... for increased ability so you can handle it.
*<;-D>

There's santa for you, to go with your story.

SS

JJ, I read the whole thing! <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/smile.gif" alt="" />

ETA: {{JJ}}

GC

"- Kimmy, who used to own 2 bars "

OMG, where were you when I was single....

If they were biker bars...oh, I can't go on.. too much pain...too much lost opportunity...sob...


I put the fire out. Can I have a beer now?

If this was jolly olde England, we'd like warm beer.

For Kimmy –

I Love This Bar, Toby Keith

We got winners; we got losers;
Chain smokers and boozers.
An' we got yuppies; we got bikers;
An' we got, thirsty hitchhikers.
And the girls next door dress up like movie stars:

Mm, mm, mmm, mmm, mmm, I love this bar.
We got cowboys; we got truckers;
Broken hearted fools and suckers.
An' we got husslers; we got fighters;
Early birds and all nighters.
And the veterans talk about their battle scars:
Mm, mm, mmm, mmm, mmm, I love this bar.

I love this bar,
It's my kind place.
Just walk in through the front door,
Puts a big smile on my face.
It ain't too far; come as you are.
Mm, mm, mmm, mmm, mmm, I love this bar.

I've seen short skirts; we've got high-techs;
Blue collar boys and rednecks.
An' we got lovers; lots of lookers;
I've even seen dancin' girls and hookers.
And we like to drink our beer from a mason jar:
Mm, mm, mmm, mmm, mmm, I love this bar, yes I do!

I like my truck, (I like my truck),
An' I like my girlfriend, (I like my girlfriend),
I like to take her out to dinner;
I like a movie now and then:

But I love this bar,
It's my kind place.
Just toeing around the dance floor,
Puts a big smile on my face.
No cover charge; come as you are.
Mm, mm, mmm, mmm, mmm, I love this bar.
Mm, mm, mmm, mmm, mmm, I just love this ol' bar.

Just J,

((((((((((((((((((SO MANY HUGS)))))))))))))))))))

When one is on a quest, as I have been lately, it becomes very easy to "not quite notice" others. Quests are selfish.

I know you said you were tired when we wrote last weekend, and I know I sent you hugs, but reading this makes me aware that you need so much more! I wish I could help in a tangible way... but the best I can do is give my cyber-hugs and pray... and I am doing both.

Take good care of yourself and DD... because you can't help anyone (most of all your partner-in-love) when you're weak, sick and hurting yourself.

I'll be thinking of you, J.

Thank you all, very much, for the hugs and the words of support. It's been such a stressful few weeks that I don't think I even realized how far gone all my energy was. I cried like a little lost child last night, and was comforted, and then slept. Not enough, and yet my spirit is renewed somewhat. I'm glad of that.

I hope you are all well.

Kimmy, I wish I owned a bar sometimes.

I also occasionally wish that I owned a bookstore.

GC, what does ETA stand for in this context? I don't think I've seen it used like that before.

"Hey, ain't that right big man? I said ain't that right big man?
Ah, he11 he can't hear, not on this side anyway, he ain't got no ear.

Hey barmaid, bring us all a big, tall glass of that Colorado Kool-Aid.
How about it?"

-Johnny Paycheck, "Colorado Kool-Aid"

long story

...not that I'm a big fan of Colorado Kool Aid, myself!

-ol' 2long

ETA -
Edited to add

>Kimmy, I wish I owned a bar sometimes.


No you don't hon. It's a heckuvalot of work....you have to clean up...um....drunk messes, and you never see the light of day or your family. It sucks on toast....the only redeeming quality was that I learned how fast it takes to ice the perfect beer.

- Kimmy