one foot in and one foot out

I received a phone call today while I was glamourosly shopping at Walmart in well, yeah, my pajamas that don't exactly look like pajamas.  It was the hospice.  It is never a good thing to receive a phone call from a hospice.  'Well, I've got some bad news,' was the first sentence. Then click.  Line dead.  I called back, 'sorry this is the after hour answering service.' riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. That wasn't going to work.  Luckily, the lady called me back from her cell phone and I abandoned my cart, grabbed my purse and headed to the front of the store for better reception.

'Sam is bleeding out.'  Sam, my dear sweet Sam whom I was assigned to visit nearly three years prior, was found unresponsive in his bed, his catheter so full of blood that it had overflowed and soaked his entire mattress, as well.  That is a picture I can barely handle - how long he must have laid there in his favorite green robe, soaked in his own blood.  Hospice people talk about death like they are telling you what's for lunch, by the way.  'He is in renal failure and will not recover,' was the further explanation, 'just thought you should know.'

One of the biggest (and only, really) drawbacks to moving to Austin was leaving Sam behind back in Dallas.  I still called every week and visited every time I was in town, but still, our visits were far less frequent.  I told him just three days ago on the phone, 'Sam, Austin is great but it would be perfect if you were here, too.'  I promised him that I would be back in Dallas in two weeks, would drop by and luckily ended with my usual, 'I sure do love you, Sam.'  'Honey, I love you too.' 

My first reaction upon hearing this news about Sam was to get in the car and head north on 35.  Three hours and I could be there.  Wait, it's rush hour, 4 hours I could be there.  Could I actually do it? It is no coincidence that today, even after 14 hours of sleep, I felt worse than I had in months.  Nope, couldn't do it.  Old Laurie would have grabbed a Jolt Cola and been on the road.  New Laurie is desperatley trying to learn these new lessons of moderation.  He is unresponsive, body shutting down, would never know I was there, yet I just wanted to be there and hold his hand.  I hate that he is there with only a strange nurse that is getting paid to sit there with him.  I hate that no one is holding his hand as he hovers in both worlds and telling him how much he is loved.  I hate that his two sons only call once a year and have no plan of coming down.  Sam deserves more than this.  If he is still with us in the morning, I will try and get up there.

I know he is ready, has been ready.  It is torture to live in a 95 year old's body and it was hard for me to watch.  He lived in a little apartment, no A/C, no TV (didn't want one), and basically just waited to die.  His wife of 63 years (and two weeks exactly), had passed a few years before and he was entirely alone. Or so he thought.  Sam I am with you tonight in every way I can. And I sure do love you.



perspective

Finally! Something showed up!

From my nerve pain that is.. the time is not right for the big answer yet, I guess. I think I still have some more humbling to do - oh man, too much humbling to do.

I got an email from the neurologists a few weeks ago.  Since when do your MRI results get emailed to you at 2am, by the way?  Just the report, no explanation, no 'call me to discuss.' I was so in shock not to see, 'scan unremarkable' like I have for the last, oh, 10 previous MRIs.  There was a paragraph, there was sentence after sentence there!  I've been waiting for these sentences for so long! As strange as it sounds, the sooner I learn what the problem is, and trust me, after nearly 7 years, I'm quite ready to know what the problem is, then I can either fix it or officially accept that it can't be fixed and move on.

Anyway, the results were a little, um, prentiously verbosed.  A big peeve of mine is when people use huge words when perfectly simple words would do just fine.  Seriously, radiologists - we get it - you are smart, but why can't you just say it like it is.  So I did what any normal person would do, I googled them: trigeminal neuralgia.  AKA, pain is so severe it is often called the suicide disease.  Treatment: more surgery. brain surgery: cutting through the skull to access the trigeminal nerve with lots of risks of facial paralysis, etc.  We are not going down that road; this thing had better fix itself.



I guess ('often seen with people with autoimmune disorders'...oh, I loathe that mysterious phrase) my trigeminal nerve is sticking to blood vessels on each side of my face and each time the blood pumps through those vessels my face becomes on FIRE.  I had never ever had a problem with this kind of pain until the day after my jaw surgery I woke up and thought someone was holding a curling iron to my temple.  Now, any person with common sense would think that something went wrong with the surgery. I don't know, maybe it is the fact that my eyes won't close, half of my face is frozen, my lips don't meet up right, people keep asking me if I've had a stroke, etc.  Gettting a doctor to admit that something went wrong to me is a whole different story. Surgery has risks, I get it, just be honest with me!

The jaw doctor says nerve pain is permanent and has absolutely nothing to do with surgery, over and over and over we have had this discussion. The neurologist says, well, haven't been able to get him to call me back since the MRI results came in.  The neurosurgeon that I have been referred to, well, can't get into him for six weeks.  Thus how modern medicine works, lot of waiting, lots of being passed around. 

So, here i sit, 4am with an ice pack to my face, wondering what it is I am to learn from this.  I could get really mad and really bitter and wonder why on Earth I am adding yet another notch in the headboard of stange diseases but instead, I have other plans.  I have this hunch that this development will lead to further answers and so, I will try and sit tight and wait for those to come.  Thus the absence from my writing, I'm really just out of things to say about overcoming pain and fighting the good fight and all of that.  This hurts, I'm in pain, I want it gone. that's about it. 

I will be right back

I know, I know. I'm just not up to letting every one in this little post 'get your face chopped up & re-arranged' world of mine yet. Oh where to even begin. It's definitely not the all that horrible, it's just there have been some complications and I can't really get any answers out of the ole md's just yet. Looks like some more surgeries are in the midst to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.


Again, learning a bunch.

Again, humbled a bunch.

I think I am being prepared for childbirth in the wilderness or something.

Check out my awesome new tats!

getting there



Sorry for the absence, friends - still under it.  Every day is getting better, though! I just need my face to get all back together again. And my eyes to close again.  Baby steps!

Pain



I'm writing you from a place of pain.  Pain is something that kind of intrigues me and for tonight, I'm referring only to physical pain. There has to be a purpose to it, or else it wouldn't exist.  Few things have more power over us, too - the minute it comes, the toughest of person will buckle to it.

Right now, I am in pain.  So much pain that I want to literally put my fist through a wall to express just how bad it is.  Is it the worst I've had? No.  The worst ever felt by a human? Nowhere close.  Can I curl up in bed and moan and cry, already done.  I've called every family member and cried, mumbled, complained and extracted as much sympathy at possible but at the end of it all, this pain is mine and I alone must confront it.  I'm working with it, I rolling with it, I writing with it.  I'm trying to push through it and wait it out.

maybe this is why some things hurt



My first thought? Pills!  Glorious, gleaming, sparkling, shiny little beings that just make it all go away.  (yes, I realize a problem could easily brew here).  So I tried that.  Three hours ago.  No dice.  Now what.  It doesn't surprise me, though, that the most common response to pain is, 'FLEE!'  This, 'why do i hurt i don't need to hurt i want the pain gone i can't handle it make it go away now' thing. What happens when that isn't an option?  I think a change of attitude must come, then.  An, 'it's going to hurt so let me steady myself for it, let me take it minute by minute, I am strong enough for it, it will eventually go away, let me confront it head on and just accept its presence' thing.

Anyone who knows me knows that the topic of childbirth is another one that peaks my interest.  I think perhaps because it involves this undeniable pain and how people of all kinds have to address it, confront it, run from it, accept it, etc.*  How on earth can mai 95lb pet give birth naturally to a nearly 8 lb baby.  How was she able to hang in there and ride the waves of it? Midwives - hey blow my mind.  How they deal with so much pain and are able to talk women down from absolute panic and terror amazes me.  Do they cry with them? No.  - but this is a topic for another day.

This is just the dialogue in my head tonight.  I'll be just fine.  That's the thing about pain, just as quickly as it comes, it heads right on out, leaving very little memory of it behind.

*on this semi-soapbox, I in no way claim to have felt a contraction of my own and knowing that, relinquish to the fact that I may in fact choose, and deserve, an epidural of my own one day.

this made me happy

 

this impresses me more than any mansion or fancy job title ever could.  oh the stories of love, patience, tolerance, acceptance and joy I bet these two could tell.

 

Connecticut Couple Honored as 'Longest Married' in U.S.

 

 

http://gma.yahoo.com/blogs/abc-blogs/connecticut-couple-honored-longest-married-u-205715329--abc-news-topstories.html

A Connecticut couple who tied the knot over 80 years ago will be named the longest married couple in the U.S.

John and Ann Betar of Fairfield, Conn., said "I do" on Nov. 25, 1932, and have been happily married for 80 years. Together they have five children, 14 grandchildren and 16 great-grandchildren.

The couple was selected for the 2013 award by Worldwide Marriage Encounter, a Christian marriage enrichment group based in San Bernardino, Calif., that organizes a search each year to promote the virtues of lasting marriages and inspire young couples.

"What an inspiration Mr. and Mrs. Betar are to all of us. They made a commitment to each other 80-plus years ago and they have kept that commitment over these many years. They truly are a sign of hope to us all," Worldwide Marriage Encounter's Ron and Judy Pekny said in a statement.

An award ceremony will take place on Saturday at the Fairfield, Conn., home of one of the Betars' granddaughters, Heather Mitchell.

Before their 80th wedding anniversary in November, John and Ann Betar told ABC News that they considered themselves "blessed."

"We are very fortunate. It can be repeated and repeated," Ann, 97, said at the time. "It is unconditional love and understanding. We have had that. We consider it a blessing."
Though the couple is hesitant to give out marriage advice, their secret to so many happy years together is simple: compromise and don't hold a grudge.
John, 101, met Ann, now 97, while growing up in the same Syrian community in Bridgeport, Conn. Breaking with tradition, Ann defied her parents when they set up an arranged marriage for her. She ran off to Harrison, N.Y. to elope with John. Now, she says she knows she made the right choice.
The Betars said they delight in the newer generations of their family, and their descendants return the compliment.
"I'm always blown away by their incredible optimism, deep sense of compassion and modesty," granddaughter Heather Mitchell said before their anniversary. "They are true beacons - inspirational people who emit such joy without even knowing it."

The Betars were chosen out of hundreds of couples nominated during the project's submission period, which ran from October of last year to January. There may be other couples who have been married longer in the U.S., but none was formally nominated, according to the group.