A short time ago, in a town called Mesa, there lived a woman.  She was of moderate looks, medium temperament and had an outstanding ability to adjust to the world around her.  Along came the time for her children to leave the nest and she struggled to find the path that truly called to her.  She had dreams of being self employed, surrounded by happy people and finding a life that truly embodied the values and beliefs she felt strongly about.  As she embarked on this journey she realized it was harder than it looked and life had a way of taking you places you never thought you would be.

  After many months of being side tracked - I have returned.  Boy did I get sidetracked!  When asked about my migraines recently, the discussion turned to stress levels and my response to their inquiry was that I lead a fairly stress free life.  I really do!  I didn't always though.  I look back at those times in my life, where your blood boils and you feel like you are going to explode, and I realize now that the things that stressed me out were so minor.  I was venting to the world for things in my life that I had control over.  I could control how I reacted to them and I am telling you now, from the other side of that tunnel, it is not worth the frustration of getting mad.  The outcome wouldn't have been any different if I had just decided to ride the wave.

  I have been unable to post for so many reasons, the main reason is that shortly after my November post, my boyfriend ended up in ICU with emergency brain surgery.  For months we had tried to get someone to take us seriously.  We had visited Urgent Care and were sent home with a sinus infection and small pharmacy of meds that made no difference.  We then visited the Emergency Room and were sent home with an ear infection and more meds that made no difference.  Our doctor finally recommended us to a Neurologist as he had unexplained debilitating headaches that were rendering him unable to work.  After an MRI, we found that the doctor had gone on vacation and, while she relaxed on a beach somewhere in Mexico, we were told to wait a week to get the results.  I, being the bitch that I am when I am told that someone I love is in pain and the rest of the world is blind to that, flipped that switch and demanded that they have a partner look at the results and I would expect to hear back from them by the end of the day.  It was amazing how easy it became to transition into that role and how I would stop at nothing to make sure we were heard.  That saying came to mind, you know the one that says you don't mess with a Momma Bear's cubs?!  It does not limit itself to just my cubs.  My life mate was in distress and I was pissed.  I was mad at the system that was put there to help you and it seemed like nobody cared that he was in pain.

  We were told, that afternoon I might add, that he had fluid in his brain and the lining was unusually thick but they felt it was best to wait.  Wait for what?  Until he passed out from the pain?  Until he couldn't walk?  Until he died?  They told me it was so that they could get him into Mayo Clinic so that we could get a second opinion.  For those of you that are not familiar with Arizona, this is the place that the elderly flock to in the winters to avoid the cold.  They plan this every year and, as a result, they make their doctor's appointments months in advance.  There was no way he was going to be seen at Mayo before 2020.  I started researching other doctors and ways that I might get into Mayo without having to go through that process.  I found a neurologist that had just signed on with Mayo but she had her own practice.  I figured this was a back door and I called them up.  At this point I was shameless and when the receptionist answered, I asked her if she had five minutes to hear me out.

  After I gave her my sob story, she put me on hold and went to speak with the doctor.  She returned after a few minutes and told me to bring him in on Saturday.  I broke down crying.  Two days.  In two days we would have some answers.  I was shocked that I had managed to get an appointment but I was more shocked that someone actually cared enough to get us in on a weekend, when they were usually closed.   I requested his records be forwarded to this doctor and they refused.  The original neurologist said that they were trying to get him in as soon as they could and felt it would not be in his best interest to start over.  I informed them that if they did not forward his records to whomever I wished, that I would physically come into their waiting room every day until they did.  His records made it to the new doctor within the hour.

  In the first few minutes of our visit with the new doctor, she asked us more questions than we had been asked in the three months we had been dealing with this.  Dr. Travis decided that she wanted us to go to the ER and have them do a recent CT scan as well as a spinal tap.  She was concerned about spinal fluid leaking and felt it was safer to be at the hospital to do it but when we arrived, as we were immediately escorted back because she had called ahead, the ER did some tests and found that it would be too dangerous to do the spinal tap.  We would see a Neurosurgeon in a week and go from there.

We arrived at the neurosurgeon and were prepared for the same treatment.  Our rock star doctor walked in and asked some questions. Dr. Yusupov had reviewed the original MRI, which was now almost three months old, and made his decision to operate the next day.  He sent us to the adjoining ER to get another CT scan and within minutes of getting the result, the room was full of nurses and doctors.  Clay had a 4.5 mm twist in his brain stem and the ER staff informed us that they don't usually see that in patients that are not already in a coma.  The doctor walked in and stated that someone was looking out for him and that he might have died if this was left untreated for even one more week.  Clay was transferred to ICU and had surgery the next day.  What followed was seven days of hell as the length of time that his brain was under pressure had caused some damage to his brain to the point where, once the pressure was released during surgery, he did not wake up for two days.  He was in a coma and there was no guarantee how he would be when, or if, he woke up.

I cannot tell you how amazing the process is to watch someone start in a coma and leave the hospital eight days later with no other evidence but a wrist band, two great scars and a huge bill.  It was like watching an infant that has been startled, they reach out their arms and flex, and then getting upset and wailing when they have been awakened from a nap they didn't want to end.  The progression of how their dexterity and memory evolves with each hour, the ability to even hold a cup serving as the challenge of the hour.  This all happened in such a short time and he is fully recovered today.  The fight that he had in his heart, the willful desire to get out of the hospital and the acceptance of the severity of his condition is what pulled him through and while he doesn't have much recollection of the events, he knows it was life changing.

I cannot express enough that everyone needs to have an advocate that will stick by them and fight for their care.  I see the neglect every day, the people that don't even know how great they have it and yet continue to complain about what they are missing.  I see the way that patients are treated and made to feel helpless and alone when they should speak up and fight for their rights.  Just because someone is a doctor does not mean that they know everything about their field.  I am here to tell you that they do not.  It takes teamwork and patience, speaking up when you need to be heard and never taking no for an answer when you know there are other options.  Demand to be heard and share your opinions, your thoughts and ideas about what you think is going on.  Read your statements when they come from the myriad of hands that have touched you.  They all want their share.  Lastly, you can write them and tell them how you feel about your care and demand that they write off a portion of your bill.  Our original neurologist did that when I sent her a brief synopsis of what had transpired since last we were in her office.  I reminded her that there was no follow up after we requested his records be transferred.  Her level of care was lacking in so many departments and I suggested, rather nicely I might add, that she write off the balance.  She did and I knew she would.

  I guess the moral of this whole story is not only to explain my lack of attention to this site but also to share my experience so that it may help someone else someday.  We live in a time where we have a plethora of information available to us and, while for many it turns them into hypochondriacs, it helps to collect information early enough that you are able to form questions to ask the doctors.  Being prepared is the first step to taking care of yourself or your loved ones.  When I love someone there is nothing I wouldn't do for them, especially when they are not able to do it for themselves.  Be the change you want to see in the world.  Isn't that what it is all about?!  

What is your biggest stressor?

Awhile ago I had to write a paper in Psychology about my biggest stressor in life. After many hours contemplating about this very subject I came to the conclusion that I really didn't have any great stressors. I decided that, while I do react in a high pitched kind of crazy woman tone, I don't feel that any of the things that happen in my daily life would be so bad to warrant the title of "stressor". I talked about my mother and my codependent relationship with her, my children and their behavior due to a mixed belief parental influence and then there is my sister and the fact that we haven't spoken since my mom was diagnosed with Cancer. These things are all events that have happened and there is a ripple effect that each of them have caused. I see a stressor as something that you cannot change. A stressor falls into the category of your job or your personal relationships.  They are like bellybuttons, everyone has one!  So when I am asked to select the biggest one, well that is a difficult thing to do because, on any given day, one could be more stressful than another.

We have these moments in our day where the unexpected happens, whether it be a phone call you have been dreading, your boss decides to increase your workload or your child decides to confide in you something you didn't want to know about.  All of these may seem mundane and trivial on another day but, for reasons you can't explain really, today they push that button and you are immediately stressed out!  How we deal with this stress is a different story and one that repeats itself over and over again.  When this happens to me I try to isolate the reason this particular event is stressful.  I pick it apart until I have it in pieces in my mind and then I can analyze it, inspect it and approach it from different angles.  I don't run away from it like some people do but, instead, choose to approach it with wonder.  I feel that this approach works for me with the best outcome and therefore I can't really identify them as significant stressors in my life.

That being said, I was finding it really hard to complete this assignment.  I gradually was feeling more and more anxiety over completing the project and decided to ask other people about it.  I did what millions of people do these days - I posted it on Facebook.  I mentioned stressors, how I was finding it hard to identify and then I made a joke about it.  I commented on how this would end badly because my family would either not speak to me again and made sure that I stayed within the "lighthearted" attitude so as not to incur the wrath of my sibling.  This did not work in my favor and what followed was World War III.  I was questioned about my intentions, made to feel like I was inconsiderate and selfish and spent hours defending myself.  All of this was truly a learning experience and, as a result, I now know that there is a very fine line between what you think is funny enough to post on Fbook and what you are willing to deal with as a consequence of that post.

All of this was not in vain though because I did finish my paper and I received an "A" on it.  In the end my paper was written about the paper!  I had come to the conclusion that my biggest stressor turned out to be the act of deciding what my stressor actually was.  I had found that I was fairly stress free but when asked to review my stress, I came up short and therefore became stressed about doing well on the paper.  This escalated into a panic over what I would write about and, in the end, I determined that the assignment itself had morphed into my "Biggest Stressor".

What Now?

When you have young kids you yearn for a moment where all you can hear is the sound of your own breathing.  Your heart beating and, if you close your eyes, you can imagine yourself sitting on a beach with the wind blowing on your face while the waves crash in the distance.  You feel yourself going to that place and then your peaceful moment is pierced with a "MOM tell her to give me back my toy!".  You are quickly brought back into your space that if filled with children and Spongebob theme songs.  Life suddenly becomes about dinner and homework while the ever present longing exists just under the surface of your skin.

Don't misunderstand me....  I love being a mom.  I love everything about it and do not regret a single decision that was made when cancelling plans due to colds and fevers.  Those moments are stitched in to the crazy quilt that is my family and I cherish each thread that pieced it together.  What baffles me, more and more as my children grow, is that I have somehow lost that person that I started to develop before I became the end all-be all to two amazing daughters.  I find that I am left with fragments of a person I once knew and, like an intricate puzzle, requires attention in a time when technology is available with instant gratification.  The problem that I face is that this new technology is unfamiliar to me.  It leaves me inpatient and frustrated because it should be easy to find interests post children.  It shouldn't be this hard to socialize or get out of the house, to go somewhere that nurtures your desire to interact with like minded people and have some fun.

Your children are what binds you to other adults.  They give you an instant subject to discuss and break that wall down that adults these days now have.  The awkward ice breakers are not necessary once you find that you are interacting with someone that understands.  Someone that has kids.  In a world where your voice is computerized through a post or a text, where do we find those moments where you can have an actual conversation face to face?  Do you plan a dinner party by physically inviting people over or do you post an event and hope that people don't say "Maybe" they will attend because, let's face it, maybe means they don't want to decline but are not committed enough to say they are attending.  I don't know how to create an environment that nourishes the gypsy soul inside me.  The one that loves to sit and have an intimate conversation that includes updates on their lives, what they did the weekend prior or where they want to go for vacation.  Drinking a bottle of good wine while sharing these small moments in your friends' lives over a good meal is something to strive for.
That being said, I resolve myself to nurture the inner gypsy in me, to learn how to let my guard down and not takes things so seriously, to remember that I have created two amazing people that are lovely to be around and make up the best parts of my life.  I am a mom and I am proud of that.  Maybe being a mom is similar to being a gypsy.  We adapt, we learn how to make the most of the little things and have an abundance of love to share.  Isn't that what life is about?!  I heard somewhere that sometimes the brightest lights come from the darkest places.
 I aim to fill my life with twinkling lights and remind myself that darkness is not something to be afraid of, that it only serves as a blank canvas to bring more color into your life!

so time does get away from you when you are trying to blog.... I don't know how some people do it.  I try to write and always seem to get distracted in the middle of it.  I am taking an actual class at the local college and then doing two advanced, or accelerated classes, and there is so much writing in those that by the time I find a minute to write my brain is fried.  Mornings can be best but I am still trying to figure that out.  Life does have a way of taking over and you learn to use what time you have to put laundry in, do dishes and homework.  I am just so over extended that this blog becomes the last thing on my mind.  I guess it is true that you will find things to do whether you are really looking for them or not.  Maybe it should be a New Years resolution to sit with my coffee and blog until my coffee is gone.  We will see.  What I do know is that no matter how "moved out" you kids are....they still return back with needs, wants, help and memories.  Customs like the holidays are the time that you see that they are still your babies and whatever customs, traditions and rituals you have managed to repeat every year that are associated with a holiday become the thing they look forward to.  Those are the moments that bring them back and I say work them.  Use them to build new traditions with your adult kids.

Going Home....

It's so true what they say about you can never really go home!  Not the home you remember.  Not the place you hold so dear in your heart because it always changes.  I recently took my mother home to Oregon to meet her first Great Grandson, Jackson.  It was a truly eye opening experience in many ways but the most obvious one is that she had not flown on a plane for over 12 years.  That is before 9/11 so it was a bit of a shock.

She did not understand the security requirements and was overly nervous about making sure she had followed all the rules.  In turn she ended up being argumentative with the security people, pointed out things that did not matter and it resulted in a long flight.  The blessing of the trip was not only to see family but for family to see her as she is now, post Cancer that has aged her dramatically and requires more attention on my part.  It is easy to complain about your predicament in life, that you didn't expect to be a caretaker for an aging parent when you are so young, or that you didn't ask for the job, but it is truly another experience to have others see it all for themselves.  I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted because they now understand when I am tired, frustrated or just plain feeling sorry for myself.  It is not an easy task and requires an extreme amount of patience mixed in with some tolerance and acceptance.  It is not quite the best cocktail but it is what I dose up on in order to be around her.
She gets up at least six times a night to go to the bathroom, she snores very loudly but will never admit to it, she is obsessed with the next meal and when we are having it and continues to refuse to wear her hearing aids so everything you say has to be repeated at a higher volume.  Now I feel vindicated because before I was told that I treated her like a child and was mean to her.  This is so far from the truth but I can see where people might think that.  You have to approach an aging parent in the same way you would a toddler some days.  You have to remind them of things, like did they remember their pills or do they need to use the restroom before we leave.  You have to listen and choose what you tune out because sometimes they just need to talk; almost as if they are regurgitating information to test whether their memory is still in tact.  I listen to my mother read out loud every ad in the paper, all the articles that only she finds interesting and I choose to respond only when I have the time to go into a lengthy debate about how she feels about whatever new situation is up.  I did enjoy listening to her stories as we drove around, where someone lived, what they did and how she knew them.  Again it was as if she was testing her memory to check for accuracy but I could not point out errors as I didn't have a clue about who she was talking about.

In exchange for this I have my mother, quirks and all, for many more years and I would not trade it for the world.  I will take all the annoyances, and the abuse from others on how I deal with it, because they are not here doing it however I now do not feel as alone in it.  I now have people that have seen it in person and I am able to speak about with them when things get frustrating.  Oddly enough that makes all the difference.

It's my Mom scent.....

I know it has been quite some time since I have posted but life has a way of taking over.  The odd thing is that I started this blog to deal with my lack of activities due to the absence of my parental duties but I have managed to fill my time.  It seems that the original concern was finding something to do but now my worries are which ones do I focus on and how do I balance my time now?  The sleeping creative being has been awakened and I am flooded with ideas and interests.  Now I can't decide on which interest to commit my time to and find myself floundering.....

I have been interested in crafts for as long as I can remember but lately I have discovered quilting.  The simple creative process of selecting fabric is so relaxing that I am surprised by it.  I remember as a child my mother was, for lack of a better term, a fabric Tupperware dealer.  She sold fabric in our house, a process that was so similar to Tupperware, and I believe it was this select club that exposed me to the magic of fabric.  I loved the act of thumbing through the small swatches of fabric, carefully glued on cards and placed in boxes by category.  Women would come in droves to our living room and spend hours carefully selecting their fabric.  They would fill their order forms and weeks later pick them up.  After the sale closed my mother would let me rip off the sample swatches and I was given these little pieces of fabric to do with as I pleased.  I would make doll clothes, sew pieces together and cherish them.  Little did I know that this was the onset of my love for fabric.

Having idle time on my hands has allowed me to rediscover this love and I find myself quilting intricate patterns and dreaming of colored fabrics in all different designs.  It is relaxing and comforting to be surrounded by fabric.  The satisfaction I feel when I complete a project is outweighed by the thrill of finding my next project.  I had always stated that I did not sew but I now know this statement was limited to sewing clothing.  Following a pattern was never my strength so quilting fills that void.  There are no rules and patterns can be adjusted, tweaked and made-up.  A grand accomplishment for a person who "doesn't sew".   I suggest that everyone learn how to quilt even the most basic of quilting patterns and discover what I am talking about.  There is a sheer joy in using your hands and the stress you avoid is worth it.  Forget about the fact that I haven't heard from my girls for a few weeks yet I know they are fine, I am content to be sitting in from of my vintage Pfaff machine, carefully stitching my most recent design together, and waiting until the time when they will need me for their next catastrophe......I did see my youngest today and when I hugged her she stated that I smelled good.

I told her it was my Mom scent and it would be here when she needed it....quilting!

Let the Twisted Prevail!!!!

So I am taking a Children's Literature class at the local college and I love it....so far. I am sitting in a classroom and realizing that I could mother to almost all of them, except for one other student and the teacher, and slowly see that this is a class that must be required for elementary education. They are all budding teachers and my stomach drops because I am there to learn about children's lit. I want to write kids books but the teacher keeps referencing classroom strategies and what you can do with this in the classroom.... I am feeling very out of place and then I had an ah-ha moment. I decided to heck with all of them...I am here to get what I need from this class and they can like it or not. I don't care. This would be a very good example of a person who goes into a situation with a preconceived impression. This is not that classroom anymore. We were all to do a presentation on our favorite book for kids and I was torn. Should I go safe and be fake or should I be myself and risk the looks? It brought back memories of when I was a young mom and trying to find common interests with the other moms. I didn't fit in to begin with because I worked full time so I couldn't be there all the time for them. That was the first thing but then my point of view was different on rules and what my girls could do. I had decided that everything was ok and I would address what they weren't allowed to do if it created a problem. I guess this was not a normal way of raising a kid but I didn't want to be the rule monger. I didn't want to be the parent that controlled their child but instead wanted them to develop as they needed to....of course with gentle nudging in certain directions. They were, in turn, the children that were always allowed over at friends houses, invited to go on trips and sleepovers but other kids were not allowed at my house. I thought this was not fair....you see my girls and how they are...what makes you think that they are different at home? I felt dejected and defeated and finally gave up. I never did have the friendships I desired, the one where you raise your kids together and watch them grow while you sit and drink coffee and gossip. That was not in the cards for me but now I see that it wasn't supposed to be. Everyone has a life that they are to live. With that life they are supposed to learn, grow and hopefully teach one other person that it is ok to be different. It is normal to not be like everyone else and to be different, while it may be risky, it will work for you in the end. You just have to grow into the person that you are and it may take years before you get there. I am so glad that I risked the looks because it ended up working in my favor. I got up before the class, explained that I had gifted kids and was challenged early on to find age appropriate material that was for an advanced reader. I shared how our family had a dry and witty sense of humor and often it was dark and then I pulled out "There's a Hair in my Dirt" by Gary Larson of the Far Side fame. It was a total hit and right on the money. For the first time I felt like I wasn't a freak and didn't have to second guess my actions. I detailed how the book had one side of the page as cute and happy and then on the other side of the page it was sarcastic but educational with details about nature and facts that could be shared. In the end the teacher stopped and explained to the class that this is a big challenge for teachers and there is a need for higher level reading with kid themes. Winner winner chicken dinner!