bunchofheather

Author: heather

  • July 31, 2023 – More life

    I do so love to make everything so much more difficult on myself.  I have left myself eight minutes to write before the clock strikes eleven.  That’s when I play games with myself about what time I should REALLY go to bed, and, if I stay up thirty minutes more, should I adjust my alarm? And then I set an alarm after my first two go off in the morning… jesus fucking christ… I just need to grow the fuck up and stop being a night owl when life goes so much better when I’m an early bird.

    If I didn’t live so damn far away from work I could be my night owl self because midnight would give me 7.5 hours sleep to roll across and still make it by eight if I pushed it.  Instead, I’m going to go to sleep at 11:30, get up at 6, and wish I had another hour.

    So, it was supposed to be all about my ideal day in an ideal world, one in which Montey doesn’t exist?  Hell, if I could describe my real ideal day in my ideal life?  If you’d asked me a year ago?  I wouldn’t have put Montey in my ideal day in my ideal life. 

    We were probably never meant to be with each other but we were and we made the best of it, most of the time.  I loved him. Turns out, actually a lot, much more than I thought… but I really think I would have been happier if we would have split up at multiple times in our life together.

    I loved my job at the gym, back in 1994, into the early part of 95? I’d have to see my W-2 to remember when it became my actual job.  But there were way, way, way too many guys and girls way too close to my age for Montey to be okay with me at that job.

    That happened over and over and over again throughout our life together.  I was always scared to like a job too much.  Get too into it, devote too much time and energy towards it.  That’s when the problems always started.  He liked the income from me having a job, he just didn’t like fact that I had to leave him to go to work.

    Holy fuck, stream of consciousness typing digs up a lot of truths.  Not so much detail on the question of my ideal day in my ideal life but hey, we’ll get to that.

    So, where did we leave off?  Apartment close to my job while planning for a small house in the middle-ish of nowhere?

    Job?  I’ll keep the one I have – I’m beginning to like it, though I’m petrified I’m going to fail horribly at any moment.

    OMFG, let’s stick a pin in that little nugget of angst.  I truly do think I like it, I’m just petrified I’m going to fail horribly at any moment.

    Oh, maybe that’s a bad note to go to bed on.  Let’s focus on how I think I’m actually doing okay at work and it is my panic stricken self-talk that is causing me to, oh, panic…

    I’m doing fine.  I can even ask Amanda tomorrow.

    God, I’m so fucking needy.

    I am just really not my best cheerleader, Montey was that.  He would always tell me I’d do better than I thought I’d do, at anything.  I also wasn’t my own worst critic… a husband who should never have never drank, let alone hard alcohol, let alone whiskey was certainly that.

    That’s one of the hardest parts of my personal widowhood – that dichotomy between missing the man Montey was while not missing the man Montey was…  I’m sure it’s a common struggle, I assume most everyone, especially after 31 years together, has a love-hate battle with most aspects of their life.

    So again, back to the assignment, lol. I’m going to need to flag the sections where I actually work on the question.

    6am wake up time – coffee and sponge bath, feed the cats and to the gym.

    Lift

    Shower and get ready for work

    Work

    Take care of the cats and have activities

    Bed by 11pm, 10:30 is better

    This brings up so many questions – will I have cats?  Tippy almost died this weekend, I was close to taking her because it seemed that the end was horribly inevitable but she didn’t give off signs of pain.

    China-mo can’t be too far behind her, she’s the same age, she’s just not run herself so hard over the years… her life of cat leisure has not aged her as fast as Tippy’s frenetic pace.

    I’m still destined to have a 2023 as described by the #1 song the week I turned 15, “Alone.” (it was one of those stupid memes that said, as indicated, whatever was the number 1 song the week you turned 15, it would describe your 2023.) Alone, by Heart.  Apt.

    (11:45 – Seriously, bed time!)

  • July 27, 2023 – My life

    I wrote the following before I met with my new therapist.  I think I’m going to like her.  I talked almost the entire time and she didn’t stop me once to tell me about her own family as did my most recent.  Nor, as the one before that did, she didn’t stop me to ask me how the company I work for is doing in the stock market and if she should buy nor whether Montey and I truly were at peace turning our back on Jesus, Christianity, the whole shebang…  Judaism, Islam, or something more obscure like Jainism?  Guarantee the thought that any other religion could be fine as well never crossed that one’s mind.  To her credit, it took her about nine months to really make it clear that being an atheist wasn’t really okay with her.

    Just turned 51 a week and two days ago.

    My husband died five and a half-ish months ago.  He actually died on what would have been my mother’s 70th birthday, at about 10:30 at night – but because we knew it was going to happen and I was a nurses aide in my earlier lifetime… I waited to call hospice until after I’d given him a bath and talked to him and gotten him redressed… So he was actually pronounced at 12:15am on Feb 8.

    For about 2 months I really struggled sleeping Tuesday nights

    We were together 31 years.  We met in the Spring of 1992.  I was 19, he was 38, he turned 39 about six weeks after we got together and I turned 20 two and a half months after that.

    We met because I went to work for him and moved into his laundry room.  We got together because one night, about a month into working for him, out with all the guys at the bar, somebody joked something, another joke was made, and he said, “you know where my bed is.”  And as they say, the rest, the next 31 years, was history.

    During those years, a lot happened, my mom died, my grandma died, my best friend from high school died but I’m not exactly sure when because that was one of my many friends that I lost touch with.  They weren’t his friends.

    His mom died, My grandfather and other grandmother died.

    There were so many good times and so many bad times.  He was an alcoholic – I married my mother – and was physically abusive, maybe 5ish times. Threateningly so? Many, many more… And emotionally so.  And I changed so much to stay together.

    I gave up myself and changed. I walked on eggshells.  I never answered “what do you want for dinner” without considering his mood, and how it would affect him, and what he likely wanted.

    And over the years something else changed.  He got old, and sick.  And I became a caregiver, and stayed.

    And this was written that night, after I met with her.  Also, I went back and cleaned up the structure above a bit.  But otherwise, carry on.

    I told her that I hope he never realized how truly checked out of life I was at that point.

    And so she assigned me homework.  A journal prompt, What does the polar opposite of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day look like?

    And holy fuck, I didn’t realize what I’m really holding inside.  Parts of it are still achievable in my lifetime… parts of it are long departed, let’s be realistic. 

    Picture Margo Thomas – That Girl, prancing through the streets of New York.

    That’s who I wanted to be.  I wanted to live in a big city, I wanted to prance through the streets between my important job and my stylish mod apartment.

    She was not old, fat, and widowed… There’s only one of those things I don’t have to be.

    But that’s who came to mind. What’s funny is I’m not sure if I ever saw much past the opening credits and a snippet here or there. So let’s break it down.

    I would really like to live close to my job, super close, walk to work is fine – but the area is considered a bit sketchy at night, but can you imagine opening your windows and hearing all the concerts, faintly?  I can sleep through anything so noise level is not a consideration.

    And sketchy? I get that it probably isn’t great, but that shit’s overblown.  Okay, I’ve had more than one parent (not mine, when I was a family liaison) tell me not to smile and make eye contact with everyone. My actual parent, my mother, was always friendly, to everybody, all encompassing, everybody.  My dad, it turns out, is a bit of a – let’s be nice and not use the more emotionally charged words that more accurately describe his kind’s world view – snob.

    Whoa, we’re getting off task.  Back to my assignment. What does the polar opposite of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day look like? For me? Smells? Sounds? Time? Activities?  Wake-up? Go to bed? Job?

    So let’s be honest with ourselves, shall we?  I don’t want to live here.  I don’t give a flying fuck that it is the more fiscally responsible and insane future responsible answer.  I really don’t enjoy it.  It’s too big, it’s too isolated, it’s too outdoorsy, it’s so many rooms that I don’t need and I really hate cleaning.  But over the years I’ve come to respect some parts of here – hence the retirement part of the vision.

    I want a one bedroom apartment.  I want my cat’s litter box, an automatic one, to be in the laundry room.  I want a day bed in the living room, with drawers underneath. In the bedroom, my dressers, closet, etc.  And my sewing machine and accouterments in there.  WTF I need to put my bed in in a bedroom.  Put it in the living room – company comes over? Add some throw pillows and a nice coverlet.  My work desk can go in with the sewing machine, as can the personal laptop.  “A work room.”

    Have a chair for guests.  A card table & chairs to get really fancy.

    I like being alone – I always did.  I fell into this life of a pair and I did it good – ‘til death do we part.”

    Sell this house.  Bank the money. Get an apartment, the nicest I want. Save, save, save – basically everything that’s left.. For now, limited food costs.  Car almost paid off… keep the stupid thing.  Minimal upkeep costs, minimal driving if I live close to work (investigate apartments on bus route!)

    If I choose to live a bit farther away, but can use public transportation? Reading!

    Retire part?  So, I think ultimately, I should look for a super cheap camp up north. Buy it, fix it, keep it, maybe rent it to hunters.  Retire there.

    That way, have some bit of real estate of my own, paid off with minimal costs, to live in, off the money in the bank, for retirement.

    Why the fuck not?  It’s MY life – I can do whatever the fuck I want!

    So, it’s 11pm – I have really got to decide my future.  And my future self goes to bed like a good adult should.  Midnight just makes everything more difficult.

  • February 8, 2023 – It Was a Good Run

    After almost seven years of living with his diagnosis, M is gone.

    I thought we were ready. We weren’t.

  • October 29, 2022 – The Word Hospice Carries a Lot of Baggage.

    Because hospice comes with so much baggage I struggled with how to discuss it with M. Then I was lucky in that Dr. M had the new doctor in the clinic suggest it. I’m pretty sure Dr. M was motivated by never wanting to have to deal with M again, but however we got here, I’ll take it.

    We met with the paperwork person Thursday, the nurse came Friday morning, they delivered a portable oxygen concentrater Friday afternoon, then today the pharmacy delivered the emergency pain comfort kit. M said if he’d known this would be the care level he’d have signed on months ago.

    He’s still the healthiest sick person I know but we’re definitely seeing progression in pain levels, the struggle to keep weight on, and weaknesses. It’s good to know the support system is now in place if / when things get worse.

  • September 29, 2022 – Amazingly, We’re Still Out Here

    Just in case there’s a single soul out there wondering – M is still plodding along! Amost six an a half years.

    He didn’t have his last CT scan that was supposed to happen in October 2021. Dr. M retired before it was supposed to happen. Then, the doctor’s office screwed up the insurance authorization. They forgot to submit the paperwork at all until two days before it was scheduled so it had to be cancelled. They said they’d get a new date once the authorization came in and call us back. Well, we got the authorization letter from insurance and never heard back from the office.

    That was it for M. He said he was done. Doesn’t want a new dr, doesn’t want the scan, done.

    His choice.

    Then, at the beginning of last month he had his MRI scheduled with Dr L. He got sick 1/2 way through (before the contrast) and refused to finish the test and said that was it, never having another. Dr. L wasn’t as pleasant as he has been previously. “Nothing of concern as much as can be seen without contrast.” No further follow-up appointments discussed.

    So that’s where we are (or aren’t) as far as tests. M is done with it all.

    The pain is increasing, I see it in him continuously, and then especially hard hitting in spasms – one of the worst spots is right over where the known lung tumor is. We can only assume it is growing but without tests it’s impossible to really know.

    He won’t complain or tell the doctor just how bad it is… His original palliative care doctor, Dr. M, treated him as if he was a drug seeking junkie when he’d try to explain all the pains, rather than someone with metastatic lung cancer with chemo-induced peripheral neuropathy.

    Honestly, it’s disgusting that a palliative care doctor should exhibit such a lack of empathy for his patients with a terminal illness.

    It has been better since he’s been seeing Dr. Y, he feels like she listens to what he says, but he still puts up a “it’s not that bad” front. Unfortunately, she’s leaving, and Dr. M is the actual head of that department.

    I’ve considered seeing about switching him to a different palliative group but the other option geographically is an hour away & M doesn’t like that. (Currently it’s 45 minutes to the doctor & Dr. Y was letting him have televisits except the yearly requirement to come in for the urine drug test.)

    I also wonder if he’d be eligible for hospice but don’t want to (or know how to) have that conversation with him: “Well ya know, it’s looking like you might not make it six months, so…”

    My apologies, I know that’s crude but it’s where I am.

  • March 14, 2021 – Just Out Here, in Isolation

    Next Saturday, Shot #2

    The Saturday after that? Lowe’s, in a mask. M has been a model in lockdown.

    Then, during the week after that he has a CT scan & Dr K.

    We’re almost at five full years!

  • My first meal kit service

    I was such a bitch about these at first… why pay such a premium for a recipe and its ingredients. After all, I’m a good cook. But then, life has happened, and I was in a serious processed food rut. Basic, bland, and likely frozen.

    My review after four weeks of Hello Fresh with three meals a week?  Overall, I really like the concept. There’s about ten decent sized versions out there and so I’m thinking of trying Marley Spoon next – after all, I like Martha Stewart, lol. I’m sure I’ll try Hello Fresh again, for now we’re doing one more week of them… to use up my credits for missing ingredients in the second and this past week – I only ended up having to buy a bell pepper this last week, I was able to work around week two’s missing cheese (had some) and this past week’s missing sour cream (used 1/2 from another meal this week that had sour cream.) Nothing that will stop me from using them again in the future if I don’t try another I like better.


    It worked so well for me because I like to try different recipes & flavors… and pre-cancer M did too. He tries a bit of almost all of them after I make them, then takes more if it tastes okay to his ever limited food palate. I’d say he’s eaten a half serving of a third of them, a quarter serving of another third of them, and been a pass on the remainder. I then eat the leftovers as lunch so it’s actually working perfect for me. M then eats cereal, ramen, or hot dogs. If he gets real ambitious he’ll make chicken nuggets and/or french fries in the air fryer. Mac & cheese used to be in the fallback list, but it’s moved to the no column too, as have most things with cheese.

    I would look at a recipe, but the effort of making a list of meals, compile the shopping list, go shopping, just to make a meal that M would probably not like? Nope. Frozen nuggets or a pot pie is fine… But the convenience of clicking on a picture & description I like and all the ingredients just show up in a box? Perfect. The meal kit helps me to eat stuff I like & not give in and eat like a 10 yr old boy which is where M’s stomach is at.

    Hey, at least he’s still eating. We’re at quantity, not quality, stage for M. However, if I focus on quality, not quantity, perhaps I can have at least twenty-five healthy years more.

  • July 3, 2020 – Better is Better than Nothing

    So M is nowhere near 100% <–understatement. But, he is decidedly better than he was on my last post.  He’s napping at the moment, he’s definitely more easily fatigued.

    I don’t think it was Covid-19.  Though that is continually a fear.  M has a lot of co-morbidities.

    He’s scheduled to go see Dr. K at the end of July, and Dr. L at the beginning of August.  I won’t go to the Dr. K appointment, there’s nothing to be gained by doing so – there’s no testing and Dr. K never seems to have anything worthwhile to discuss when there’s been no testing.  I’ll definitely go to the Dr. L appointment, the idea that all this weirdness recently could be a new tumor is not lost on me.

  • A blue dot in a sea of red

    Why has the health & safety of our society become a partisan issue? What happened to believing in science?

    Around here there is a large percentage of people who think the virus is gone now. After all, their dear leader says so. Normally I can go about my world and not have to interact with that type, but this past week has had a few interactions.

    Today, I go into the local market to get chicken for dinner from their hot foods. I push in a buggy from outside, about 12 people in the store that I could see, one with a mask. I get to hot foods. The woman behind the deli? Oh, she had a mask, it was protecting her chin. Mouth and nose? Breathing all over things, unfettered. Then she reached into the pan of chicken, no gloves, & dug her fingers into the piece she pulled out to rip it in half to fit it in the bag she was packing for a customer. That’s the point where I “noped the fuck out of there” & drove to KFC where their corporate asses all had on masks & gloves.

    It isn’t necessarily due to the virus, that would have disgusted me pre-covid… Aren’t there health department standards?

    Every day at work I hear at least one thing that disgusts me. I was told last week by a co-worker that they thought there should be a question on the company’s application for political party. I said that was fine, as I was going to judge companies based on the tv station playing in their lobby.

    I’m really getting to the point in my life where I am just fed up with being silent and silenced. I’m trying to find my voice.

  • June 20, 2020 – Something Just Isn’t Right

    Last Monday, M woke up really nauseous.  This has happened a few times here and there over this journey but something felt different this time.  I’m not sure what made if feel that way.  He was really weak, cold & clammy, no fever…  Dr. Google says heart attack.  M swears he doesn’t have chest pains.  Well, dear reader, we all know you don’t have to have chest pain to be having a heart attack.

    I had to go to work.  I was scared but, as I’ve said before, I can’t stay home every time M is sick.  As an extra added stressor, due to some poor career choices in the past eight months, I have no available time off.

    M never replied to my texts after lunch and I was getting concerned, but he did answer my call on the way home.  Sounded weak as all hell.  Tuesday, a small bit better, then a small improvement each day.  Yesterday, Friday, he ate more than he’s eaten all week.  This morning?  Boom, back to how he was Monday.

    Again, I don’t know what is making this feel different, but it does seem so.  Nausea, weak, occasionally sweating & clammy, and he can’t sit for 30 seconds without nodding off.  I got him to eat a little chicken noodle soup this evening and he fell asleep between spoonfuls.

    I’ve told M my concerns.  I’ve been pooh-pooh’d.  And there it is.  He’s an adult and I’m not his mother.  He’ll let it get out of control bad before he’ll agree to be seen by a dr.  It has been 15 years since his first heart attack.  That one gave warning signs for at least a month that he refused to acknowledge.

    Something just isn’t right.

    (edited in July to note – the Dr. L appointment that was to happen in May?  Postponed.  M did not want to go into a hospital in the midst of the pandemic)