Untitled

Memorial Day. Gary felt good enough to watch our small town (and I mean very small) Memorial Day parade. We spent the afternoon at our good friend’s house, five houses down with some of our adult children who good make it. It was a good day. The sun was shining, we only (mainly I) only had a few tears in the kitchen this morning in my husband’s arms. But some moments, I can’t help but wonder…

Sunday. Streamed church. Our pastor prayed for us. We had dinner together. He napped. I cleaned and made to do lists for appointments. Five days. Hundreds of emotions. Thousands of fears.

Cancer antigen markers within normal limits. Praise God. Now we wait on pathology. But for now, I get to bring him home. 🩷🙏🏻

Liver biopsy done. Now we wait. There’s something to be said for crying yourself to sleep. Is crying the right word? No, no it’s not. It’s more like a full body convulsion while not being able to breathe. So part Elaine and part Fear. I’d rather be laughing at Elaine dancing.

More antibiotics via IV. More fluids, more of waiting. Biopsy was pushed back today to tomorrow now. MD’s want to get “ahead” of the infection. Which of course it makes sense?!? I’m not arguing that at all. What I am arguing is the fact I now have to wait another day to bring him home and another night to sleep alone.

Worst day of my life. My heart is broken. I didn’t see this wrench coming. Like my Dad always says, “Man makes plans, and God laughs”. Today I didn’t laugh. I cried. I cried when my husband couldn’t see me. I cried in my truck, I cried on my way to get him food and I cried all the way home. I cried walking our dog and I cried reviewing the game tape son my head hearing not one but two doctors…

“Pay it forward” was and always will be one of my favorite chores, if you can even call it a chore. For as long as I can remember, I have had this sickly fascination with paying it forward. From large to small, if I can, I’ve done it all. Although, I must be honest, my wallet is not padded, so there is a limitation to this fetish. So if the little elderly lady behind me in Target has a purchase…

When you shift your life to living transparently, you give yourself a tough conquest. It’s a silent battle within yourself amongst, well, everyone. Everyone you speak with, keep company with, engage with in passing, even at your place of work, but as hard as it is, isn’t it the ‘right’ thing to do? Transparency. Let’s see what good ‘ole Webster-Merriam has to say about it, shall we? The quality…

Not sleeping is awesome when you are young and parting, and you have to work at 5 am. You just keep going; you shower, you eat a few eggs, you pop a red bull and well in the world of Ralph Macchiato “You’re Golden {Pony boy}”. But what about when you’re not in your twenties, what if you are in your fifties and fuck you just wanna sleep!! Ugh.

My husband and I just finished the two part series on “AKA Charlie Sheen” documentary. I have to say I haven’t been able to find a stronger word than ‘Profound’ to cover it. Looking at our world right now, the loss of a young girl on a train home from work, taken from us by violence. A young man speaking at a college campus, taken from us by violence, a Minnesota State representative, taken…

My Dad gave me some life advice recently and I have to say and 52, this was some awesome advice! “Just another life guide, I love you….Remember “It’s Mind over Matter!!! IF YA DON’T MIND! IT DON’S FUCKING MATTER…GO ON SMILIN’…GOD’S SAYIN’ YOU GO! Thanks Dad, you keep life in a very easy prospective. I love you too.

So…. Have you used the phrase or, are you the someone who hates the phrase? Stating “I hate that phrase, it’s stupid, what does it even mean?” Let me tell you what it means, it means exactly what each individual word means. People who don’t like the phrase are the ones who cannot accept they are not in control of things. They don’t like accepting someone else got the position, or that their…

Getting back to being me.

Some days are just plain boring. Same routine, same schedule same agenda. Some days go by so fast that you can’t remember what you ate for lunch. Then some days last longer than a week. The days you keep checking the time to see whether or not fifteen minutes have passed rather than the hour and a half you were hoping for. Then there are the days you want to just curl up under a blanket and…

Rather than my daughter’s engagement being an amazing celebratory event, it becomes a whirlwind of the emotional backlash of memories I chose not to remember yet somehow, here come the emotions through the floodgates of every sick stomach churning, projectile vomiting, psycho-sob fest imaginable. Why so horrid? How could I dare crush this beautiful event? How dare I say these wretched…