Life Goes On...

Some years are better than others. I guess that's true for most of us. So far, this year seems to be possibly one of the more productive ones, which is nice, especially after last year. Last year was horrible: we lost several family members died; we had a hard time getting rid of what turned out to be the roommate from hell (yes, it was someone we had known for years); and, of course, the various odds and ends that make a life.

In July, my son-in-law died. While his health was not the greatest, his death was not expected. But considering the medical care he got - or, rather didn't get - he passed away. (Yes, he'd gone to the hospital, three times in his final ten days or so; the hospital totally dropped the ball. That's another story.) His mom had come down to see him in the hospital; fortunately, she got to see him before he died.

Then, over the next few months, my mother began to die in earnest. Her health, which hadn't been the greatest for years, began deteriorating rapidly. While my sister, A., still lived near me, we'd tried to get Mom and our second step-dad to move near us to make life easier, "just in case." Then my sister moved to Colorado, then literally across the country. We still tried getting Mom and step- to move here, but it wasn't happening.

A. flew back and forth to Mom's, reporting to me on what was happening. It wasn't pretty. There were assisted living facilities, skilled nursing facilities, the whole bit. Then step-dad had a stroke and, within a month, had died at his daughter's home. (Again, another story...) A. mentioned bringing Mom out to live near her. But Mom's health was too precarious.

"If you want to see Mom while she's alive, you'd better come soon," A. said during one phone call. Mom was days to weeks from dying. "I'll even pay for your airfare."

Unfortunately, I was in the middle of a crisis here at home. A friend had needed a temporary place to stay and I'd offered to let him rent a room temporarily; he overstayed by his welcome in short order. (Word of advice: if a person's family doesn't want that person moving in with them, that's not a good sign.) I finally had to go into bitch-mode to get him out, after he'd become increasingly unpleasant and verbally abusive. I couldn't fly out to see Mom, knowing that the now-ex-roommate was still there, giving my sons M. and J. all sorts of grief.

By mid-November, Mom and roommate were gone. While Mom's passing without having seen her hurt, at least A. and I knew she was no longer in pain, while ex-roomie's leaving was the definite high-point of the month.

Over the next few months, A. and I spoke a few times. We discovered one final Christmas present from Mom, which surprised both of us.

Now, with March of the new year here, things are looking up. Life, while far from perfect, is running a lot better than last year. While my "kids" (all adults) and I still have things to work through (this is, after all, real life; there are almost always bumps and uh-oh moments), we're hanging on.

Here's hoping for the rest of the year.

Looonnng Summer

I know, I know, it's been a while since I've posted here. It's been a very long, rough summer. Granted, it started off easily enough, but then...

Someone had been keeping an eye out for the perfect job for me. Yes, I'd been applying to anything that seemed vaguely possible with my degree (BA in journalism, one semester short of an MLA in history), but I figured it didn't hurt to put the word out. The person looking (okay, a job coach...long story, don't ask!) called me to excitedly tell me that the perfect work experience had been found. Turned out that it wasn't exactly the best fit, but I figured that since it was only for a few weeks, I'd try to stick it out.

But then, near the end of July, my son-in-law, B., died. While he hadn't been in the best of health, he'd been maintaining. Of course, it wasn't as simple as "he died," but I'll leave it at that for now. Let's just say it was not expected, and was totally unnecessary.

So, of course, my daughter (M.H.) had to start trying to jump through hoops trying to get things worked out, while trying to maintain some stability for my granddaughter, G. She's still working on everything.

In the meantime, M., J. and I ended up sick again - several times. This is since the June 6 posting. Then the roommate had a wreck and is in bad shape (cast, broken foot, etc), and is, in my opinion, acting much more entitled and whiney and (pardon me) helpless than even I am at my most drama-queen worst. Add to all this that my step-dad also recently died, my mom is in a nursing home, and about to be moved to Oregon (my sister, an RN, lives there), but Mom is now in the hospital...Siiiiiiiigh...

All this shall pass, I keep reminding myself. Roomie will move. M., J. and I will get to a point where none of us sound like a bad impersonation of Harvey Fierstein. Mom will, hopefully, get well enough to head for Oregon. M.H. will get things straightened out.

Here's hoping for a better autumn.

What a week, or Is everyone in the hospital?

There are days that make a person just want to crawl back under the covers and hide. A good book might help, along with a plate of homemade cookies and a cup of coffee or tea. Or maybe a quart of vodka, if that's your preference. But since I don't drink...But let me back up and explain...

Actually, it wasn't just a day, but, rather, the entire week. It started back about a week-and-a-half ago, on Sunday, February 3 when my friend, Cookie, called. We've known each other for over half-a-lifetime, seen each other through the weird thing we call life. She'd just gotten her kids back from what sounds like a horrible ex- when we first met. Her kids and mine were all younger than our grandkids are now. We know things about each other that would make great fodder for the daily soaps, as is the case with most long-term friendships, but that's a whole 'nother story.

So, when I saw Cookie's number on the Caller I.D., I picked up. "What's up?" I asked.

"Well, I've had the morning from hell," she answered.

Because Cookie has a strong Drama Queen gene, I sighed. I figured it could be anything from The neighbor parked in my space to who-knows-what. I'm not griping, just explaining. I, too, have been accused of being a Drama Queen. For the most part, I honestly love seeing friends' and family members' Drama Queen-ness.

But this time, it was serious, and she truly had had the morning from hell. Her husband, L, was in the hospital with a stroke; she'd found him lying on the bathroom floor that morning, tried to wake him, move him, anything, before calling 9-1-1. They'd taken him to a nearby hospital; after some preliminary tests, and finding out how serious it was, he was transferred to another hospital.

"The place they took him to, XYZ Hospital? It's a train wreck." She knew, since she'd had to work there, years ago. She'd wanted him transferred to a different hospital, but it wasn't in the cards.

We talked while she tried taking her mind off what was going on. The doctors weren't hopeful, though things are starting to look a little better now, eleven days later. With any luck, he'll recover.

Then, Tuesday, February 6, my son M. informed me that he wasn't feeling well. "What's up?" I asked. Turns out, he was having chest pain. At least he told me around 5:00 p.m.; he's been known to let me know he needs to go to the E.R. at much less convenient times, like 2 a.m. Also, he's gone to the E.R. with chest pain a couple of times before, and it had always been something fairly benign. Since everyone in the house had had a bad cold or a minor case of the flu a few weeks back, I figured it was just left over tightness from all the coughing.

But since it was chest pain and M.'s dad had died at the ripe old age of 49, we called my friend Kevin to take us to Bayfront Medical. Turns out Kevin was tied up and said he could get us in maybe 45 minutes or so. Okay. Since Kev usually goes home early on Mondays and Tuesdays, this was a little unusual, but we didn't think much about it.

But after a few minutes, M. decided he really couldn't wait, could I please call 9-1-1? So I did, while M. called Kev back using his cell phone to tell him not to come by. In a little while, we were in Bayfront's E.R., being hurried into a room, where they started a battery of tests. There were others in the E.R., but certain things - chest pain, included - trump other things, like sprains.

Shortly after we got there, I called Kevin to see how late he was planning to be out. I figured he'd say he was already home. Turns out, he was at another hospital, not far from the one we were in. He had a family member who'd had a heart attack that morning and had gone to the E.R. This family member has had medical issues for a while; for privacy, that's all I'll say. But Kev said that he'd probably be heading home around 8; he'd call me when he was leaving to see if I needed a ride home.

M. was still in the E.R. when I left; they'd already said that they were keeping him for the night. Turned out, M.'d had a mild heart attack. Treated, taken care of, minimal damage, home several days later. Good as new, or as good as possible.

So, Thursday, after we'd gotten home, picked up his meds, etc., I got on the computer and discovered my son-in-law was in another hospital, and had been since the night before.

"I thought I told you," my daughter said. If she had, somehow I hadn't heard it.

M. is now on the mend, working today (it's not heavy work, so the doctor cleared him for that). B. is also on the mend, back at home. L., though, will be in the hospital for a while, as is Kev's family member. The best we can do is pray, send good vibes, thoughts, and wishes.

Would you mind horribly if I just crawl back under the covers with a good book and a cup of tea? One more thing - pass me a cookie...preferably peanut butter...