Sunday, September 4, 2016

These new drugs

SInce my glucose reading was way up, Dr. A. upped the dosage of Metformin, from 500mg once a day to 1000mg twice a day.

Not good. Too high a dosage, Lots of hot flashes (low bloodsugar)

So I am going halfsies on that.

He put me back on Lexapro. Which will probaly take a few days to hit the spot, but at least I got them before my trip.

Added Amlopedine to my BP meds. 

I'm going home with a suitcase full of medicine, like an old lady. Ridiculous!

I've tried very hard to eat stuff that is good for me. No more ice cream, no more sweet stuff.
I hope all this will settle soon and I'll start feeling halfway normal again.

Today is Sunday. I hate Sundays. For some reason they really depress me.
Thank God I had Boo this weekend. It made all the difference in the world.

I'm hoping my glucose meter thingie will arrive before I go, so I can get used to it and figure out how to use it.

The trip itself still gives me hyves. I am not looking forward to it. Feeling very anxious. Perhaps it will feel better once I sit in the plane. Who knows.

Getting old is not for sissies


Wednesday, August 31, 2016



miniature shampoo, toothpaste, etcetera.....check!

books for reading......check!

Adapter for my charger.....check!

I need special program on my phone in order to use it in Holland....will cost $10 per day
Is it worth it? That's $140......still thinking that one over

Got myself back on the waiting list for a smaller apartment.....check!
I don't qualify for the really cheap one, because my income is too high LOLOL


But at least it will be a big difference.

Now we wait.

Boo joined the chorus at school.
I hope she likes it. She has a beautiful voice. She needs a hobby.
Spider started her job at Target. Whoopee!

And I am just going with the flow here. Crocheting another blankie, reading another book, going to bed early, but feeling pretty good.

So there!


Saturday, August 27, 2016

Being prepared, or being shit bat paranoid...

The yo yo-ing between bank and PayPal and eBay has been to say the least frustrating.

Even though everything I sold has been shipped, half of it has arrived, PayPal is holding on to my money until September.
This doesn't seem fair.
In order to pay for some shipping, I tried transferring some money from my bank account to PayPal. the bank released the money, PayPal tells me it won't be available until the 29th.

It was tricky to get every item shipped. But it's done.
I suppose I will just have to sit back and be patient.
The last money to be released will be September 9th.

I am so done with eBay.
Even though the system itself has become easier to use, it's not at all easy for people who are starting from scratch.
Your years of selling is not considered. Perhaps it has been too many years.

Oh well.
It's done.

I had a doctor's appointment yesterday.

Everything is UP

Blood pressure UP

Weight UP

glucose count UP
(no more pre-diabetic) guess I am now diabetic.

Doctor sat down in front of me, looked me in the eyes and said. You are still depressed.
He said that while reaching for the box of tissues.
Smart fellow.
The boo hoo's came a-rolling.
He patiently let me have my hissy fit.

Then started to write scripts

Back on Prozac and Lexapro

Increased my diabetes meds

Increased my blood pressure meds

Gave me some new sleeping pills to try out
(I asked him because I will need them when I am in Holland)

The thing I really need to do is MOVE, get OUT, stop sitting around all day.

And eat responsibly. RIGHT!

I really thought I was over the hump. But I'm not. I still cry at the thought of my David, still cry because everything is still such  a mess.

I need to get through this. Need to let it flow, but also take steps to get better.

I am very ambivalent about my trip.

I feel the urge to get prepared, in case something happens to me.
Making a list of all my accounts, passwords, phone numbers, cremation papers, etc etc.
So my kids won't have a bear of a time if and when the time comes.
I don't have a will, but I really don't have much.
A holographic will is not legal in Georgia.
I'll just make a them a list instructions of things that need to be done, and stuff they need to "keep"
ike Oma's tea service, David's medals, our wedding rings, our letters the photo albums

Once I've done all that I'll force myself to get in the mood for my trip.

Me and my little mascot Slick.

My trip promises to be a time of visits with old friends, promised long walks with my sister. (argh)
Much laughter, I am sure.

And probably much crying as well, as we are still smarting from our parents' deaths.
And our favorite relatives.

It's the age, they say.
You're almost 70, they say
It's life, they say

I know


Thursday, August 25, 2016

Onward and Upward

I finished the whole kaboodle on eBay.
Sold - got paid - spent a fortune on packing materials - packed everything up -took everything to the post office.


Amazing how much people are willing to spend on dishes that are over 20 years old!

But then, they were good old dishes, popular and durable.

I'll miss them, but my life has changed.
These dishes were so darn heavy.
So I choose a set that was much cheaper and totally different, and much lighter.
No pun intended. haha.

Boo was not impressed. Oh well.

The Olympics are a thing of the past again.
I watched the swimming, the track and field, the diving, the gymnastics.
Overall I wasn't impressed.
I didn't even watch the closing ceremonies.

Maybe I'm becoming jaded.

So now it's time to prepare for my trip home.
I've started to pick the clothes I am taking.

Got myself a little travel mascot named Slick.
He is the miniature Slick of the big one Boo has (which has been used/loved and washed so many times that it looks more like roadkill.

13 More days and I will gather all my willpower and guts together and travel to the airport and get on a plane.

It never bothered me before.
I flew all over the place hundreds of times.
I am not so brave now.
Don't know why.
 But I should really put my confidence cap on and try and get excited.
I am going to see my old friends after all, and my relatives.
Should be fun.

Spider is taking me, we're taking my car, so she can use it for the time being.

She has a job!!!

Started training at Target.

She is excited.

Needs the money like CRAZY!

Yup, Momma's ATM is permanently closed now.
No more bailing out.

As for my grieving thing....

I find myself finding "stuff" that I really don't need to hang onto.

Like the box of music Wheelie wrote in high school and college.
No one is going to play it. It wasn't very interesting.
So out it went.
The only piece I thought was worth while I sent to Spider's old Music teacher, thinking he might be interested. Never heard a word about it.

I'll keep his medals and his scrapbook and his old running shirts.

Spider took his yearbooks.

The other kids got whatever they wanted. Which wasn't a whole lot, and I don't even remember what I sent his son. Bunch of old pictures I think.

I am just left with the memories.
Trying to forget the crappy times, and concentrate on the many happy ones.

I am starting to realize that Wheelie really let me do what I wanted.
Every time I wanted to move.
No problem
Wanted a vacation
No problem
Wanted to step out and have a few flings
No problem
Wanted to get rid of his dogs when Spider was a baby and I thought they would harm her
THAT was a problem, but he did it.
One of the few times I saw him cry, after he came back from the vet.

Maybe he was afraid to lose me.
We both had some dreadful marriages/relationships before
He wasn't about to let me go.
And I'm glad he held on.
Stoic as ever.
I am grateful that I was able to take care of him until the very end.

The end was HIS way
Finally, he got to do it HIS way.


Monday, August 22, 2016


Today I decided to try and find where baby daddy/sperm donater is incarcerated, since he doesn't show up on the local county jail list anymore.

They shipped him to the south of Georgia. In the middle of nowhere.

And there was his (LONG) rap sheet.
Nothing hugely criminal. Burglary, forgery, parole violations, etc etc
and just being a plain dumb ass.
Since he screwed up his parole one last time they threw the book at him.

20 years!

But he is eligible for parole in 2020.
Imagine that!!

That's when Boo will be entering high school.

The more I read about it, and the more I brooded about his holier than thou frigging family, I got myself madder and madder.
To the point where I was ready to send him a very long and nasty letter.

He now owes his child $33.000 in back child support.

His family more than once bailed him out. Let him mess up over and over.
Because he was being SO good. Found the LORD. blah blah blah
In the meantime we were helping raise the baby, and supporting the daughter.

The $33.000 was a bout the amount we had in savings..

All gone.

House foreclosed
Filed bankruptcy

Schlepping poor Wheelie and his shrinking body to another home/apartment.

And never an offer to contribute from his parents. Oh, they wanted to see their grand baby, play with her, do the fun stuff.
But we would have appreciated some $$$$$ once in a while
Have them pay childcare
Buy her clothes
Hell, even a box of diapers would have been welcome.

No, they just prayed and prayed and left it all up to Jezus.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't have anything about religious people.
I know (especially lately) some very devout folks, ones that just GIVE from the heart, and don't beat you up about their beliefs.

Whatever rows your boat is my motto.

But they are just simply bigots. Redneck bigots.

SO I was going through my FB and read about a friend of a friend of mine who is undergoing gruweling cancer radiation treatments.
And I thought. Girl, you need to turn that anger into sunshine!
SO I am going to send this poor lady one of my afghans.
That's what I make them for after all.
Not to sell and make a profit
But to make people feel comfy during a terrible time.

It did make me feel better, and more humble.

I won't write that letter, and I keep the family blocked on my FB.

I just need to get myself back on track and love again.
Stop the cycle of anger and futile impotence

Much better for the blood pressure too!



Wednesday, August 17, 2016

The fog is lifting.....slowly....

Ever since that enormously general gift from far away friends, And ever since the weather is starting to get more bearable, I am feeling lighter somehow.
I haven't cried for days, have been sleeping like a baby.
Maybe the grieving is finally letting up.
I know it will come and go for a while, but I think I'm over the hump.

Selling my old (20 years +!!) dinnerware on eBay has been a surprise.
Good thing I invested in some stuff that would stay popular for a while.

It's a relief to let old stuff go.
Stuff in drawers I never used or even looked at.
It's creating a cleansing feeling.
All my quilts are gone.
Most of my DVDs are gone.
My music CD aren't doing so well because I refuse to sell/ship overseas.
Besides, there isn't much left of the special ones that were worth anything.
Like LPs, CDs are on their way out. Make way for electronic ways.

I immediately spot the sellers from Asia. They want to know specifics, like what's engraved on the inner ring of the disc, where it is really made etc. etc.
I sold tons of them to China, Taiwan. I've always been wondering if the CDs would be bootlegged and sold on the black market.

And those folk are really picky, they want it sent their way, they want the value amount on the customs form to be LOW, so they won't have to pay taxes. I never did, and in a few cases it cost ME dearly. Them saying they didn't receive the goods, and me not having any way to check. And losing hundreds of dollars.
Even in those days it was expensive to ship and the only way to add proof of delivery would have cost a mint.

So I decided not to ship overseas anymore.
Of course, when I received an email asking "those" questions about My set of Beethoven's complete symphonies, Karajan conducting, I wrote back: where do you live?
The answer was: California.
He never bid on the set.

Doing eBay gives me a sense of accomplishment, and it brings home some much needed moolah.
I will get back on the waiting list again, and hopefully I will be able to stretch my funds for a few months until a smaller apartment becomes available.
I mean I am on a roll here, maybe I'll get lucky with that too!

I started swimming again.
You might think: that's a big deal??
Yes, it is.
It's another chore, to get my stuff together, drive 12 miles to and from, and get into the cold water.
But once I am, it feels so good, and I always wonder: Why don't I do this every day?

My neighbor stopped bugging me, which takes off a lot of anxiety.
Why he annoys me so much I don't really know, but I have a suspicion he's trying to WOO me, which makes me shudder and cringe.

Spider got herself TWO, count them TWO jobs!! A full time one at Target, and a part time one at her old bar. I hope she can do it, that's a lot of hours. But she really needs to start pulling her weight again.

This weekend I'll have Boo over again. And I am planing on taking her to the movies.



Sunday, August 14, 2016

DNA and geneology surprises

 The Old Mill "De Hoop" in winter

Genealogy peeked my interested a bunch of years ago, when I still hammered away on my blueberry IMAC, back in California.

It was  difficult to figure out the Dutch histories, looking through old city archives, hopping from one city to another. Thinking my grandfather was born in one place only to find out he wasn't, and that some old villages had been changed through the years, moved  from one province to another, or disappeared altogether.

But I did find family from way back in the 18th century. My mother's side that is.
I knew about the old mill in Culemborg, where my great grandmother lived as a child with her family. And that this mill belonged to the family for a long time.
It burned down at one point, and stayed an ugly stump for years.
But the mill has since been restored to it's full glory, as well as the three little houses next to it.

My father's history was much more difficult to discover.
Most of my information I got from my father's youngest sister, who recently died.
She remembered many aunts and uncles and had stories about my grandmother. My great grandfather married three times and had a total of 24 children. I believe Grandma was the youngest.
As a young girl she cleaned houses for a dime a week and got to take leftover food home, as well as cast-off clothes. When she found a job that paid 25cents a week, she took it, which made her parents mad because there were no fringe benefits here.

Opa and Oma Blok's wedding picture 1913

My mother's family before the war

I could not find any other people through the archives, since I have no idea where to look. I am not familiar with the  dutch system.

So a few months ago my son was telling me how he wondered who his real grandfather was.
His grandma had his father out of wedlock (oh my) and apparently never told anyone who the dude was.

She married a Reed and thus the child became a Reed.
But my son is getting curious.
So I gave him a DNA test package for his birthday through Family Tree DNA.
The results will be ready at the end of this month.
Now this won't tell him who is who, but we are also going to do a YDNA test, where he will get a list of  his father's side of the tree, and from there on he can pick at the puzzle.

Now, Wheelie's family was easier to find. His mother's side, that is.
Going through gran's papers I found his half sister's social security card.

He had a half sister and a half brother. Sister disappeared from their lives when she was young and foolish, the son was adopted by an aunt and uncle. This was during the war, and Gran must have been between marriages.
She was married 5 times. I don't know how she managed, but she had her first 4 marriages annulled by the Catholic church. We found the certificates after she died.

Anyway. Through I was able to access the social security death files and I found Lucille.
The last known address was in Monterrey and it listed some people who were neighbors.
Lucille died in 1999.
I wrote a letter to  all the people who were listed as her family and friends/neighbors.
I received a letter from her neighbor, and she was able to tell me  the whole story.

Lucille loved her men. Not unlike her momma.
She had three children.
The first one when she was 16. The baby daddy was a neighbor boy of Hispanic decent.
Gran hid Lucille during her pregnancy in the backroom.
She later kicked her out.
The baby was adopted by the boy's family.

Wheelie told me they never heard from her again.

So I found out, that she had lived in the Monterrey area. Was married once, but had two children from different fathers.
Both baby daddies were African American.
When I finally got a hold of the son, Wheelie's nephew, he was ecstatic. (not Wheelie, he could care less at that point)
Lucilly's daughter died not long before I found this branch of the family.
Both kids have children and many many grand children.
He sent me a list once, but I could not make heads or tails out of it.

But compared to the rather  small white Town side of the family, we all of a sudden had a huge black family as well.

Nephew contacted Wheelie's kids and grand kids, but no one was interested.

Our correspondence weaned after Wheelie's death.

Interesting though, right?

The main reason for my search of Wheelie's family was to find out if anyone inherited Machado Joseph Disease. Apparently Lucille died of cancer, but did have problems with walking and balance, so who knows. I left the information with the family. They can find out if they want for themselves.
I never did manage to find the adopted brother, who was a full brother of Lucille, half brother of Wheelie. We figured he stayed in the Bay Area where he grew up, but I could not find him.

And now I have a niece who has uterine cancer Had all her innards  removed. She is young, well, younger than I am.  And she is busy trying to find out about our forefathers, or, foremothers. Needs to know if her type of cancer was hereditary.

Well, since no one ever talked about illnesses, or what anyone had, or died of, I wasn't much help.
It wasn't so long ago that patients who were diagnosed with cancer would NOT be told.

 I don't know what my grandmother died of. Story goes that she died on the last day of the war, that she was sick from hunger. She was only 59.
My grandpa, I was there when he passed, but the only thing my parents told me is that he fell. I remember the wake and when he received the last sacraments. That tableau is etched in my head.

My father's mom had a stroke, and lingered for years.
His dad died of arterial heart disease.

And so it goes.

One thing I do know, we don't come from Royalty, or Rich people, or serial killers.

Just plain folk


Friday, August 12, 2016

The mail came....

At the moment I am really too overwhelmed and speechless to write something down
But I just wanted to share the beautiful gift I received in the mail.

I have to thank my dear Rancid fan House sitter Dog sitter friend for setting into motion this gift.

Wendy my dear
Bless you.

Bless you
 Bless you!!!!

I know your family is securely and happily living in that far far away land of Egypt, but your arms have reached me, girl.

And my gratitude is just humongous.


Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Never dreamed I would be living like this

The mail came. Certified no less, to the old address.
Northside Hospital is still hounding me for the supra pubic surgery, which should have  been paid by Humana, which I thought they already did.

Of course I called the number on the letter, asked them if they were aware that the man DIED?
I asked the lady what to do?
She was probably surprised at my being so upset. She said I was breaking up. NO SHIT.
It just breaks my heart every time I get something in the mail adressed to him.
Can't help it, just destroys me.

I asked her what the hell am I supposed to DO?
She said they were still trying. For eight months???

I told her it was not her fault, but that it really upset me.
I hope it made her stop and think. There for the grace of God...

I sold a few things on eBay, and even though I only have about 8 bucks in the bank after doing some frugal grocery shopping, I was able to transfer some of the money from PayPayl to the bank, but that will take about 5 days. At least it's coming, at least I have enough food for another week.

And people are nickel and dimeing me about shipping.
Stupid people. Don't they know shit is expensive?

Maybe I'll go and sell my car. At least I won't be on the hook for 65 bucks for insurance every month, and I will have some extra money to get me through till the end of my lease.

No wonder Wheelie was worried about me. He kept telling me. And I kept assuring him I would be okay.

God dammit

Monday, August 8, 2016

He did it again!

The doorbell rang.

No one there.

I waited about an hour, then looked.

And low and behold, on my doormat a huge begonia (beyond it's prime, really)

With a note

For my dearest friend and neighbor.
This will look so pretty on your balcony.
Love, Adam


I wrote on the note:

Please stop!
I prefer to be left alone!

And put the plant back  in front of his door.

It is starting to feel like harassment to me.

I'm afraid to leave my house.

I just don't feel very social these days. Just don't want any buddies, pretend I'm a happy girl, because I am not.

I am still smarting. It feels like I'm a different person.
I think my family doesn't understand. Well, my daughter does, she is having a bear of a time with it herself.
But it is just so difficult to convince people that I am numb and sad and angry and lonely.
That it takes all my energy to get up in the morning and get going.
It's a good day when I get the laundry done, when I wash the floors, vacuum. Even dusted the other day.
eBay listings keeps me busy for a few hours, but I am running out of things to sell.

At least I am planning to go swimming tomorrow.
Packed my bag and I am going to be a good girl and GO.

Spider called me the other day, was on her way to the ER. Was having horrid tummy pains that felt like something she never felt before.
They did an ultra sound. No tumors, no visible reasons except for a few "constricted" blood vessels that were filled to the max, and probably were the cause.
They referred her to a gynecologist.
Of course she hasn't made the appointment yet.
I've been telling her since she had Boo that she needed to GO, since with the last pap they found some questionable cells.

On Wednesday she is having her interview at Target.

Keeping my fingers crossed.


Sunday, August 7, 2016

Horrible` dreams and playing makeup

Most of my memorable dreams happen around 7am.After I get up to go pee and turn off the fan.
Then I go back to bed
Because I can.

But the other day I had such a horrid dream, I've been feeling bad about it ever since, wondering what in the world it meant.

I was trying feed Wheelie some chicken noodle soup in bed.
Instead of using a bowl and spoon, I tried pouring it into his mouth straight from the pan.
He screamed in anguish, and I poured on even more.
Then trying to use a wet newspaper to wipe it off.

I woke up in a sweat, and feeling so much guilt.
Where did THAT come from?

So it wasa huge relief to have Boo here this weekend.
Comic relief, no less.

She wanted to use my makeup.


Layers of liptick.
Eye shadow
Then some eyeliner, put on by me. And of course the foundation, hiding her freckles.

Then we made pictures, and boy, I was stunned at how photogenic she looked.

It scared me a little to think she could look so much older just having some makeup on.

I only showed the pictures on FB for a while, then took them off.

She made hilarious little videos with my tablet, her singing kareoke and filming herself.
I even managed to bomb her video a few times, LOL
Anyway, she loves it here, because I let her be.
I let her eat and drink what she wants.
She's really into smoothies, and she went through a pint of yoghurt, a box of raspberries and half a box of strawberries and two bananas.
She also had me make her two coffee icecream milk shakes.
Regular food?
Unless you count two hashbrown patties at McDonald food.

She just gives me a peaceful feeling when she is around.

I managed to keep the TV off, and spent the day just reading.

But that damn dream keeps haunting me.


Thursday, August 4, 2016

Am I just mean, or is this creepy

A few weeks after I moved in here, I was watching TV late at night.
I heard a loud thump out in the hall, and some moaning. Someone in trouble.
I ran out there and found one of my neighbors sprawled out on the cement floor, his shopping cart all over the place.
I went over and asked him: What are you doing down there?
He was hurt, I could tell. He could not get up, said his arm hurt.
Let me call 911 I offered.
Nooo noo.. don't, just try and get me up.
I asked him how in the world he fell.
"I tried to step on this huge cockroach" he said, "but the damn thing was too fast"

It was difficult to get him up. Dead weight.
I didn't know where he was hurt, whether he broke something.
But my experience with picking up immobile humans came to good use.
I grabbed him by his belt and carefully pulled him up/
I unlocked his door and shuffled him inside, along with his shopping cart which was full of bags of ice.
Apparently his fridge was on the blink.
I helped him take his jacket off. and saw his arm was bleeding.
I rolled up his sleeve and found a six inch patch of skin just scraped off his upper arm.

I told him to hang on and went back to my apartment to get some gauze and tape.

After that he said he was fine and thank you.

I thought he was a strange little man. At first thought he might have been a priest, had pictures of all the latest Popes on his wall. The apartment was a mess. He had sprayed bug spray all over all his counters. 

I realized I was in my Christmas Fox nightgown.
How sexy.

A week or so later I see him coming down the hall with his grandson.
His arm in a sling,
He had broken his shoulder in two places, and spent the week in the hospital.

He thanked me profusely.
Then came the boxes of chocolate.
The orchids (I hate orchids)
Then the offer to buy me a pizza
or Chinese.
I told him no, enough is enough.
He left me cards with words like: you saved my life, you are my angel, we'll be best friends for the rest of
my life.

Oh boy.

I managed to steer clear from him, but on Mother's Day he was at my door with a balloon and God only knows what else. I didn't open the door, pretended not to be there.
He tried again the day after. Not interested.

Mind you, found out later this guy  used to be a bus driver, drove people to casinos and such, was from Monterey, California.

80 years old. Hair plastered on his scull with who knows what. Heavy on the aftershave. Natty dresser.

A month  later he rings my bell, stands there with his daughter, introduces me to her like I am his new sweetie. Gave me two cactus plants. I hate cactus plants.

Told him again, thanks, but enough is enough.

The last few weeks he has been ringing my doorbell several times. He is starting to creep me out majorly.
You see, he doesn't stand in front of my door so I can see him, no, he stands in the corner.

Today he ringed again. I asked: Who is it??
No answer
Rings the bell again.
I ask who is it?
No answer.
I wait a few minutes and watched him come out of the corner and slink away.

Now, I am usually a pretty friendly gal. But at this point in my life, I really can't stand pushy people.
I don't want to make friends.
I just want to be left alone.

Maybe that's mean, but I am just being honest.

I now start to feel anxious every time I need to leave the house.

Ridiculous huh.

I will need to face the music sooner or later, and just tell him I am not interested
and I really prefer to be left alone.


Tuesday, August 2, 2016

Coping and going on

The days after Wheelie died went like a big blur.
I wrote the announcements.
Called friends and texted his son.
Received beautiful flowers from my sister and her son.
The only flowers that would come.
Lots of cards.
Beautiful heartfelt messages. Calls from a few friends who knew us both, and who knew to ask the right questions.
It helped tremendously.
But nothing from his side of the family.
His daughter, his son, his grand kids, his newly found nephew.
No calls, no cards, nothing.
Except for the oldest granddaughter who posted on her Facebook that her grandfather died and that she remembered him when she spent the NIGHT with us.
(She and her sister spent two weeks with us one summer)
Wheelie wasn't the most social familie member, that is true.
I was the one to try and keep the glue working. Hoping to keep the family together.
To no avail. Oh yes, I am sure the gifts at Christmas and Birthdays were appreciated, but neither one of us ever got a card or phonecall on our birthdays, a Christmas card, a Thank you.

I kept telling myself they would come around one day.
I am still waiting.

I had to move, since my income was slashed  70%
No more pension, just one social security check.
Thank God I was registered at an "affordable apartment complex"
It took a few hoops to get through the housing authority's red tape and bureaucracy.
But a unit opened up at the right time, and I was able to move right away.

Spider was a huge help, packing, cleaning, being supportive even through her own grief.

So those first few months flew by, and there was a sense of relief, a sense of freedom from being tied down.

But then came May. My funds dwindled down, and I realized that there was no way I could (even in an apartment that was discounted) keep things going. At the same time my real grief hit me in the stomach like a brick.
Thoughts of guilt, about so many things. Remembering how things were when Wheelie was "well"
When we shared life as a couple. We WERE happy once. Went out to dinner, to concerts, enjoyed gardening, listening to music.
We had our horrible times too, and I felt guilt over almost leaving him at one point.
But he stuck by me, letting "it" take it's course, which it did.

I cried and cried and cried. Could not sleep. Cried and cried some more.
This went on throughout May, June, July.
It was then I asked my Heavenly angels to please please help he.
And they did.
Slowly but surely the sun started to shine again.

I stayed home/indoors most of the summer, as it was always way too hot to go outside. I spent it thinking things through and crocheting.
Then my sister sent me (and paid for) a ticket to Holland. Just to get away, she said. You need some pampering, she said.
And then I decided to get on a waiting list for a smaller, less expensive apartment.
And then I decided to sell some stuff on eBay.
And then my son sent me money.
All this positive shit really made me feel better.
I think I am over the hump.

I stopped waiting for the Town family and people who knew him to contact me. It's alright.
It's a relief not to worry about them anymore.

Can't wait for the temperature to go down though.


Sunday, July 31, 2016

 Christmas 2015, one of the last pictures

A long time has passed since my last post back in April of 2015.

It seems like eons ago.

It's amazing how we managed to get through it all.
Speaking for myself, I just rode the waves, being helped by Prozac.

Wheelie had his schedule, which kept him focused.

He never complained.

As long as everything went like plan, he was okay.

Five days a week his CNA would come and get him up. Give him a shower or a bed bath and dressed him.
The showers were tricky, but the girls figured out how best to transfer him from his wheelchair to the shower chair.
 He told them HOW, like keeping his shoes on until he sat in the shower chair, so his feet wouldn't slip.
He wasn't an easy patient, stubborn and wanting things his own way, but who blamed him? Very few ladies became familiar with him to the point where they GOT him. He loved them to peices. The other ones grinned and bared it.
It must have taken all his strength to roll with the punches. Not to complain.
I seem to be the only one who knew how the wind was blowing, and deal with it accordingly.

Like: just leave him be.

I fed him his breakfast, as slowly but surely he wasn't able to hold his spoon or fork, and had to drink with a straw.
Then he would read the paper.
Until the day came he stopped that because he couldn't turn the pages, and more often than not the paper would fly all over the living room.

Then we would check the TV schedule for soccer games.
We watched an awful lot of soccer games.
Him, stoically, me sometimes at the edge of my seat yelling at the screen.

During those hours I was able to run to the store without being afraid something would happen. Sometimes we would have a volunteer come and keep him company. 

In the evening it was Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy, and then for him the Turner Movie Channel to watch an old movie.
By that time I would be worn out, so I would go and sit on my bed and watch my own programs with the sound off.
When the movie was over, I would undress him, put him on the potty for the last time, and put him to bed.
He still mumbled away after taking his Ambien and Flexeril, but as time went by he became quieter and went to sleep faster.
During the night I would have to turn him over, since he couldn't move himself anymore.
I slept lightly in those days, one peep and I was up.

When the time came he couldn't pee by himself anymore, we went to the catheter.
Which went well for a few months.
Until the nurse couldn't get it in and poked something, which made him bleed, and which meant a trip to the ER. She quit not long after that. I still believe she really didn't know what she was doing.

After a few weeks of messing with that it was decided to have a supra pubic cath put in.
Basically the cath would go through a small hole in his tummy under his navel and straight into his bladder.
This took three trip north to Blue Ridge, a good hour drive. An ambulance would have cost a mint, which the Hospice nor the health insurance would pay for.

Worked fine, but from that time on he lost a lot of blood. We figured it was the prostate cancer being back again. But he didn't want to find out.

Just let me be, dammit.

His voice was lost somewhere during the summer . So we didn't communicate much or well. If he did want to say something he would squeak out a word, and by me asking questions, we would figure out what he wanted to say. It was an exhausting way to communicate for both of us.

The only thing he could say well was : MOM!

Sitting in his chair and refusing to go to bed scored him a few nice bedsores.
So he finally gave in and took naps during the day.
I fixed his chair up earlier with swim noodles and sheep skins so he wouldn't tip over and make the wounds worse.

Then around Thanksgiving, he stopped eating.
I did fix us a miniature typical Thanksgiving Dinner. The kids came over, he was happy.
After Thanksgiving, he started to shrink. No longer interested in much of anything,
The only time he perked up was when the kids came.
Spider was engaged to a guy who had two little kids, a boy 4, and a girl3. The boy was a rascal, but he loved Opa, and Opa loved him.

Then Christmas came.
The children were oblivious to Opa's tired, skinny face. They did manage to make him smile and say cheese for the picture. One of the last ones we took of him.

They went home early, because Opa was just too worn out.
He decided to go to bed.
Which was to say: I am going to bed now, this is the end.
He started having pain in his limbs, neuropathy, and he finally decided to take some painkillers, and a few days later we added morphine.
On December 30 he slipped into a coma. He laid down in that bed and never moved.
I kept waiting through the night to him calling me: MOM, to turn him over. Something that had become such a normal routine.  He stayed quiet and still.

On December 31, the kids came to say their goodbyes.
Little boy ran into the bedroom....came back out shrugging his little shoulders: I guess Opa is asleep!
And went about his business.

The kids left, and I went and sat on my bed next to Wheelie's, held his hand, talked to him.

I played a favorite  piece of music for him, The Little Train of Caipira, by Villa-Lobos.
I hope he heard it.

January 1, New Years Day
I called the Hospice, left them a message.
Our case worker was not on call, but we kept texting each other.
Weird, she should have BEEN there.
I waited, no one called back or came.
I called again.
Same story.
He started to run a fever, I was told he was transitioning.
I started to count his breaths.
On TV the Vienna New years Concert was on.
at 9:15pm, Wheelie took his last breath
While the band played the Blue Danube.
I didn't cry
I was just kind of numb. I sat and looked at him for a long time.

Where have you gone?
Are you still here?

After a while I figured Hospice wasn't coming.
So I turned off the light and went to sleep.

Hospice came the next day.
I was pissed.
The nurse who came was hyper and just rubbed all of us the wrong way.
She had to pronounce him.
She pronounced him a day after he died.

According to his wishes, the Cremation people came and took him away.
No funeral, no viewing, none of that nonsense.

And that was that.

The Long Goodbye


Saturday, July 30, 2016

There is an app for that!

Yesterday was one of those desperate crying my eyes out, wondering what the hell to do NOW day.

I went and stood in front of my shelf with the pictures of my Heavenly Angels (mama, pappa, Wheelie)
and asked them to please get me through another day of worry about the damn money.

In the afternoon I decided to withdraw my request for a smaller apartment, for which I paid $100 deposit to just get on the waiting list. At least that amount would cover me for now.

My landlady called back and said that she had JUST deposited the check but had not sent the waiting list to the management company yet, so she would take me off and deducted the $100 from my rent, which is due August 1.

A huge sign of relief here.

Spider calls me and tells me to hang in there. She is in the same boat and has been relying on the kindness of strangers for a long time herself.

She and Boo just moved back in with her long time girlfriend, who like Spider, just broke up with her fiance. Both girls have a child. The friend, who I'll call Hippi has a little boy who just turned 3. She lives in a house on the same street we lived in when Spider was 4.
An amazing thing, how everything comes full circle.

They all have their own room, they split the costs, they are surrounded by neighbors/friends who find it absolutely normal to help support these two ladies.
Spider is looking for work, ANYTHING but restaurant work. She's got a foot in the door at Target, which I think is excellent, because it would mean, a job WITH benefits, and no worries about relying on tips.
Boo is starting school again, fourth grade!!!! on Monday. She is excited. She is ready.
Today they are having a slip 'n slide party for the little boy, I was invited, but I just can't see myself slippin' an' slidin'

So back to yesterday.
I have been in contact with my wayward son for a while now.
He is a changed man, and is happy and healthy and sober.
I wrote him about my financial pickle.
He texts me: download this CASH APP mom, so I can send you some money.


SO I did. It's called SQUARE CASH.
It's a free app
and it works

$200 directly into my bank


I can't remember him ever giving me a gift. except for a little wooden box one Christmas, en a crumpled up birthday card without an envelope for my birthday (probable swiped from the local grocery store LOL)

This was HUGE

And I couldn't help but see the smiles on my Heavenly Angels' faces.

Crying again, but now of relief, of gratitude.

Spider: See mom??? It always works, and always at the last minute, when you don't expect it.

Yes, daughter.

SO now I can get ready to watch the Olympics, starting next Friday. Very excited about that!

And after that a trip home in September, a gift from my little sister.


Friday, July 29, 2016

Thursday, July 28, 2016
(well, actually it's Friday as it is after midnight)

It would probably be a good idea to fire up my blog again. Put my thoughts on paper again.
Thank God someone was able to forward me the url, because I lost it.
Thanks Diana

I just watched Hillary accept the nomination.
A girl breaking the glass ceiling.
A fierce speech.
Lots of good ideas and promises.
I like her, I hope she will become our next president. I just hope and pray she will not get the same moronic finagling from the Republicans, like they did to Obama.
I like her humanity. Her earnest demeanor.

We were watching history being made tonight.

And I am not even going spend my energy on the "other" nominee.

Tonight I went through some papers.
A folder with everything about David's death, the sympathy cards, the certificate of cremation, his SS card, Driver's license, Medicare card, Birth certificate, death certificate, his Army papers.

Another folder with my own stuff, bunch of old passports, and one new one, my US citizen certificate (1995)
My school diploma, my son's "amends" letter, which I keep close to my heart.

I reread all the sympathy cards again. Bringing to the surface those tender sad days right after he died.
Wondering and being so pissed off that none of his kids, grand kids even bothered to send a card. Or made a phone call.

I have not had the heart to open the two full envelopes with our correspondence, our love letters.
We didn't "go" together for very long, but we wrote each other every day.
I just can't get myself to read them yet.

It was difficult enough to open my old Blog here and read the last posts.

It has been a tough couple of months. Some say it's the grieving taking hold of my heart. It probably is, but I also stopped my depression meds. I was tired of feeling "good"
I cry a lot. Especially when I worry about my financial situation.
And not having an army of people to hold me and tell me it will be alright.
I have Spider and Boo, I have my FB friends, I have my sister in Holland.
And a few (well, really only one) friend who moved closeby after her husband died a month before David did.
I don't mingle much with the neighbors.
Just don't feel very social these days.

But I still crochet like a maniac. It keeps my hands supple.
I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis (but it could also be Ostio, he guy doesn't know what)
In any event, everything hurts, my back,. my hips my toes, my hands, my shoulders.
He wanted to send me to a rheumatologist, and a physical therapist.
The cop pay for each visit to an specialist costs me 45$, which I can't afford.

So he put me on anti inflammatory meds, which gives me the runs. But it helps the pain for the most part.

I am struggling to make ends meet. Even ask for help from St. Vincent de Paul. I'm still waiting for them to come and assess my situation.

I've put myself on a waiting list for a one bedroom apartment in this building, which they wanted a 100$ deposit for, without much reassurance that this will happen anytime soon. But it will be worth it, 200$ less than I pay now. I like my apartment with so much room, but I really can do with just one bedroom and one bathroom.

So life is a interesting right now.

And my back is starting to smart from sitting in this office chair, so I'll end it and go to bed.