First date in years.
Turk
He talked about Southern women staying with men who treat them bad, only having sex when they are married and so few lovers. Not at all like women from NY. NY women would never let a man get away with what women put up with here.
He was only interested in how thick my thighs are and what would I do in bed. Sensitive nipples? Lights on? Threesomes? Not at all interested in anything else. He has never fathered a child, although his ex had two girls he calls his own.
You know me...I have a hard time getting naked with a man that I would never welcome into my family. Yet sex is the only thing I need from a man. He is not a face I would want to kiss at all. There is a certain look in the eyes of the man I seek. A certain kindness and longing. This man would probably laugh if he knew that. Guess I am old fashioned, but I find it hard to believe this is God's will.
-- With Integrity and Passion; Live Simply, Love Generously, Care Deeply, Speak Kindly, Leave the Rest to GOD
Friday, May 20, 2011
Friday, October 29, 2010
1984
My mom had a live in boyfriend between husband one and two. He came into my moms life by cheating on his wife and he exited in much the same way. While she lived in the small rented trailor by the highway with Ferlin she worked as a nanny for a family with three small children.
One weekend Mom and Ferlin were going to drive to the beach and visit my sister Margo and her family. It was about a three hour drive and I mentioned to my mom that she should take Marsha with her to visit aunt Margo and cousin DJ. DJ was only 10months younger than my Marsha.
Mom was quick to point out that Ferlin didnt like to travel with small children in his truck, but later I learned that they had taken a smaller child with them. Instead of taking her granddaughter with her to visit family my mother opted to take one of the children she babysat for instead. When I asked her about it she said, the childs mother had asked her to watch the little girl and she accepted the job at the last minute.
I said, "I thought Ferlin didnt like kids in his truck"? "Well they were paying me to take her with us", she said. "Oh, you would have taken Marsha if I paid you", I said. "Why do you have to be like that?", was her response to me.
I was very upset by what my mother did, but I am also thankful for the insight. It allowed me as a young mother to begin to see how much (or how little) my family and I meant to my mother.
One weekend Mom and Ferlin were going to drive to the beach and visit my sister Margo and her family. It was about a three hour drive and I mentioned to my mom that she should take Marsha with her to visit aunt Margo and cousin DJ. DJ was only 10months younger than my Marsha.
Mom was quick to point out that Ferlin didnt like to travel with small children in his truck, but later I learned that they had taken a smaller child with them. Instead of taking her granddaughter with her to visit family my mother opted to take one of the children she babysat for instead. When I asked her about it she said, the childs mother had asked her to watch the little girl and she accepted the job at the last minute.
I said, "I thought Ferlin didnt like kids in his truck"? "Well they were paying me to take her with us", she said. "Oh, you would have taken Marsha if I paid you", I said. "Why do you have to be like that?", was her response to me.
I was very upset by what my mother did, but I am also thankful for the insight. It allowed me as a young mother to begin to see how much (or how little) my family and I meant to my mother.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Total Hip Replacement
If you have never sat in the waiting room at a free clinic before, you should try it sometime. It can be quite entertaining, just look it up on youtube. Speaking for myself, I am a people watcher. I enjoy sitting and conjuring up imaginary stories about the people I see. It’s just a silent game I play while I wait; maybe you have even played it yourself while you sit in the mall waiting for a friend. Just be careful not to form a judgment of someone based on what you see while you silently sit and wait for your name to be called. Remember all the others in the waiting area with you are in the same place as you, at exactly the same time as you are, and they are also waiting their turn to do just what you are waiting to do. My point is, you could be any of these people and they could be you one day.
Take me for instance, I may look like just an overweight middle aged woman sitting in the corner, wearing loose fitting pajama like clothing and waiting for my name to be called. Maybe I am sitting with a tall young man about 18 with dirty blonde hair an athletic build and his face buried in his laptop. I might be carrying a wooden cane I picked up at the flea market. One of those made of a branch with the knobby parts painted black. I might even be wearing my big puffy pink bedroom slippers. What kind of story would you imagine for me? Would you try to figure out what bad decisions I made that caused me to have to require the medical services offered only at the free clinic in my neighborhood?
Would you think that I live in a nice three bedroom house in a middle class housing development just up the street with my son who just started college last semester? Since I don’t have a child under the age of 18, I don't qualify for Medicaid and Medicare is for people 20 years older than me. I raised 4 children in that house my husband and I purchased in 1991. The 3 older ones are out on their own living their lives now. I work part time at HGTC and part time employees don't qualify for benefits like health insurance. I have been suffering with chronic pain in my thigh for the last 5 years it started a few months after my husband passed away in March of 2005. I have visited various ER's over the years looking for a doctor who would slow down and listen to me, but until now not one has ever cared enough to really listen to what was happening to my body. Every doctor I have ever told my story to has always just written me a prescription for pain medicine and sent me home without a diagnosis, over and over again. They just say have you had this checked before? Yep that’s it, here’s your drug prescription. I think they believed that was all I was after, a prescription for pain killers. Most were happy to oblige.
I called the Friendship Clinic and made an appointment to be checked on a day when I knew the volunteering physician was an orthopedic specialist from Coastal Orthopedics. Dr. Haskins told me all I could do was take the pain medicine until I could get a hip replacement. It seems my arthritis was a result of a malformed hip socket probably since birth. I did some research and found out the surgery was about $30,000, just for the hospital bill. A feeling of great sadness and despair took over my daily routine. I have never felt so helpless and hopeless in my entire life. No matter which direction I looked, there was no light at the end of the tunnel. What is my next step? My application for Medicaid and disability was denied. I found out vocational rehabilitation did not help pay for surgery, they could only offer help getting me back into the workforce. My income was a little less than the total of my house and car payment, so I was desperate to get back to work. Yet I kept running into dead ends when searching for a way to get surgery. Our government system helps young women when they are bearing children, but no help is available for women over 40 until they reach age 65. I never realized how much our bodies break down during those 25 years. I had all but given up when Terri from the Friendship Medical Clinic called to tell me she had found a hospital willing to donate their facility and a physician willing to let me make payments.
That phone call changed my life in so many ways. I went from feeling 70 yrs old. I felt like an old crippled up grandma at the age of 45. I would regularly sweat, shake, get nauseous, and experience rapid heartbeat and high blood pressure just as a reaction to the pain. After Terri called me and I stopped crying I began to feel like a woman on a mission. All from just that one encouraging phone call. Somehow knowing there was hope gave me a newfound strength and energy I thought I had lost forever. God has always taken care of me and I know he is an on-time God, but I have to admit I was running low on faith after living with the knife stabbing pain for 5 years. In his time God came in the form of a phone call from an angel at FMC.
Surgery was scheduled at Conway Medical Center with Dr. Paul Ramsey from Coastal Orthopedics within about 6 weeks from the phone call. On September 22nd I met Dr. Ramsey and his nurse Nancy for my initial exam and consultation. I must say I have never felt such warmth and confidence during a medical appointment in my life. I left feeling like they really cared about me and understood about making me feel less pain. I believe they truly wanted to help me get back a more productive life. Thanks to the clinic I was experiencing medical care not usually afforded to patients without insurance. Us poor folks don't get treated the same as insured folks.
My late husband was my second husband, I was married at age 17 and my first husband was electrocuted at work and as a result his father was killed and my young husband had to undergo surgery to remove both of his legs below the knee. This landed us, at a very young age on Medicaid. I will never forget going to the pediatrician with my young child and sitting there wondering why all the people in the waiting room were being called in to see the doctor before us, even though most of them arrived after our appointment. We were not drunks or drug addicts, or too lazy to work, we were just victims of life. Things happen in life sometimes that we cannot control or predict. Life just happens to us whether we want it to or not. Sometimes bad things happen to innocent people, he was only 21. (back to my story)
A month later I was at Conway Hospitals Joint Replacement Center getting treated like a queen. I was in surgery and recovery until around 2pm. At 4pm that same afternoon, I was helped out of bed by well trained staff and encouraged to take my first steps on my new porcelain hip. I imagine it has a polished white finish with little pink roses painted on each side. I had surgery on Monday October 4th and went home with of one of my dearest friends on Wednesday afternoon. A Physical therapist came to my friends house twice to show me exercises and proper procedures for moving around after my surgery. Five days later I went back to my house to take care of my daily life (a little slower at first).
It has been 2 weeks since my surgery and I try not to do too much. I want to do all the activities I have had on hold for the last few years. Like taking my grandkids to the zoo and not having to spend most of the day resting on the bench, or putting on my own socks. I can’t remember the last time I put on my pants from a standing position, or painted my toe nails myself.
12 days after surgery I walked about a block around the river walk at Conway Marina to be seated among the other guests at my nieces wedding. Then after the ceremony, with the help of my wooden flea market cane, I walked without pain, though somewhat tender (from sitting an hour in the folding chair) the same distance, back to my car. A few weeks before my surgery I spent the entire afternoon at a festival on the same river walk. Only this time I didn’t stop at the first seat I saw and spend the day planted there in too much pain to walk around and enjoy the festivities. I haven’t been back yet to thank Dr. Ramsey for all he has done for me and my family because my post-op exam is still a week away, but I look forward to showing him very soon how well I’m doing. Nor have I ever had the pleasure of meeting Terri from the Friendship Medical Clinic yet, but I want her, and all the other who made it possible to know If only a fraction of the blessing they have given me, comes back to them they will be forever swimming in an abundance of all things good.
Would you have guessed this just by looking at the woman in the corner? What about the person sitting next to her?
Sunday, July 18, 2010
1974-1984
I have a mother who keeps breaking my heart. She never even acknowledges any wrong doing. If I get all the things I want to say to her out of my system maybe I will be able to forgive her once again. She has never asked for forgiveness. She never says I'm sorry. She never says she loves me or that she is proud of what I have become. She loves her son and daughter who have to depend on her for everything because they have made choices favoring alcohol and cigarettes over rent and electricity.
My first series of blogs will be true events in my life. Choices she made. Things I need to forgive her for if I want God to forgive me.
When I was 12 I helped my mother escape my fathers abuse by lowering her garbage bags of clothes out the bedroom window in the middle of the night. Then I stood in the doorway with him while he fired shots in the air with a pistol, as she ran down the road. He wasn't shooting at her, he was warning her not to come back. Later as I was sleeping on the couch my father interrupted my older cousin Billy as he was trying to convince me to have sex with him. My father held me by the hand and led me into his bedroom saying "I'm gonna keep you straight as long as I can". He held that same pistol in his other hand and carefully placed it on the pillow by my head. What he did to me in bed that night was anything but keeping me straight.
I know my mother did not intend for it to happen. I think she blocked it out just the way I did. I don't blame her for it, I just wish that she would have acknowledge it. I put it out of my mind and went on with life as though nothing had happened. I never remember thinking about it again. It was not a big deal to me, my dad was not the first family member to want to have sex with me. My granddad tried, and most of my cousins on my dads side. Even my moms younger brother, Glen. He played nasty with me as long as I could remember. Until he moved away and joined the service after high school. I just thought I was desirable and they all wanted to be my lover. Momma never told me it was wrong. I never mentioned it until he tried again when I was just starting to date. When he tried this time she made him move out and we all moved to Pennsylvania. She let daddy move back in with us even after he admitted what he had done to me. At least he acknowledge that it was wrong. Unlike my mom, who forced me to confront him with what he had done to me. During one of their fights they were sitting on the sofa at the bottom of the stairs in our house in PA. I was almost 16. I was the oldest of five and we were all upstairs in our room and they were downstairs were yelling at each other. It was nothing new, we only got excited when he started hitting her. During their argument she yelled for me to come down stairs and join them. "Tell your daddy what he did to you" she said.
"He knows what he did to me" I said, now halfway down the stairs.
"What the f... you want me to do? Apologize? he said" to her, not to me.
I turned and went back upstairs. She let him move back in and I moved out.
That was it no more discussion, until years later when I was married with two children.
My parents were divorced and I was about 21. My father showed up drunk for Thanksgiving dinner at my house. He and my cousin Billy(the same one from earlier) were in the driveway. My dad told me to go fix him a turkey sandwich and I told him no and went back in the house. Later that week my mom lied to me about how and where my three year old daughter got bitten by a dog while in her care. When I found out she was lying to avoid a lecture from me we got into an argument. I was mad at her because she had taken my little girl to the home of some unfavorable characters in a really rough neighborhood after I had forbidden her to. During her visit, while she was inside with her skanky male friend, Marsha, my three year old, wondered over to a chained up dog in the yard, and he bit her (it was bad enough that the skin was broken). I discovered it, she did not show it to me. When I found out from someone else who witnessed it a few days later we had an argument. In her mind admitting she should not have taken Marsha there was harder than telling the truth and letting me make sure the dog had his shots. Instead she opted to fabricate an unbelievable story about some stray dogs in the park. She knew she should not have taken her grand daughter to that house and left her unattended while she did whatever with that skanky man. Anyhow, during our argument, (the whole point in this story) she said I was cold-hearted and held a grudge too long. She was talking about me not making my dad a turkey sandwich. I argued that he got treated better than he deserved. Then, even after he had admitted sexual misconduct with his 12 year old daughter, she accused me of lying about what he had done. I didn't speak to her for quite awhile. I believe that this incident was the exact point when I started realizing that my beloved mother was not such a good person.
That was 26 years ago and just the beginning of many more such incidents. Not one does she acknowledge as unacceptable. She doesn't even admit that she was not such a good mother. I can forgive her and I have many times. I just wish once, she would say "I'm sorry" or "can you forgive me" or "I was wrong for doing...".
When I confront her, which I totally avoid whenever possible, she always denies doing such horrible things. She says she can't believe I would say such things to her. She calls me mean and cold. She made me mean and cold. I had to become estranged to her or I would have been crushed thinking she could treat her children the way she does. My brother who is eight years younger advised me well a few years ago. He said I expect too much from others. He told me to stop expecting her to do the right thing. Then it will not hurt me so much when she does the things she does. He was right, I try to stop expecting her to act morally, but it is sooo hard to not feel betrayed when your mom constantly exhibits such immoral and immature behavior.
This is just one incident. Just the beginning. I moved away from her, but she only got worse. More examples will follow. Thanks for listening. I feel better now.
My first series of blogs will be true events in my life. Choices she made. Things I need to forgive her for if I want God to forgive me.
When I was 12 I helped my mother escape my fathers abuse by lowering her garbage bags of clothes out the bedroom window in the middle of the night. Then I stood in the doorway with him while he fired shots in the air with a pistol, as she ran down the road. He wasn't shooting at her, he was warning her not to come back. Later as I was sleeping on the couch my father interrupted my older cousin Billy as he was trying to convince me to have sex with him. My father held me by the hand and led me into his bedroom saying "I'm gonna keep you straight as long as I can". He held that same pistol in his other hand and carefully placed it on the pillow by my head. What he did to me in bed that night was anything but keeping me straight.
I know my mother did not intend for it to happen. I think she blocked it out just the way I did. I don't blame her for it, I just wish that she would have acknowledge it. I put it out of my mind and went on with life as though nothing had happened. I never remember thinking about it again. It was not a big deal to me, my dad was not the first family member to want to have sex with me. My granddad tried, and most of my cousins on my dads side. Even my moms younger brother, Glen. He played nasty with me as long as I could remember. Until he moved away and joined the service after high school. I just thought I was desirable and they all wanted to be my lover. Momma never told me it was wrong. I never mentioned it until he tried again when I was just starting to date. When he tried this time she made him move out and we all moved to Pennsylvania. She let daddy move back in with us even after he admitted what he had done to me. At least he acknowledge that it was wrong. Unlike my mom, who forced me to confront him with what he had done to me. During one of their fights they were sitting on the sofa at the bottom of the stairs in our house in PA. I was almost 16. I was the oldest of five and we were all upstairs in our room and they were downstairs were yelling at each other. It was nothing new, we only got excited when he started hitting her. During their argument she yelled for me to come down stairs and join them. "Tell your daddy what he did to you" she said.
"He knows what he did to me" I said, now halfway down the stairs.
"What the f... you want me to do? Apologize? he said" to her, not to me.
I turned and went back upstairs. She let him move back in and I moved out.
That was it no more discussion, until years later when I was married with two children.
My parents were divorced and I was about 21. My father showed up drunk for Thanksgiving dinner at my house. He and my cousin Billy(the same one from earlier) were in the driveway. My dad told me to go fix him a turkey sandwich and I told him no and went back in the house. Later that week my mom lied to me about how and where my three year old daughter got bitten by a dog while in her care. When I found out she was lying to avoid a lecture from me we got into an argument. I was mad at her because she had taken my little girl to the home of some unfavorable characters in a really rough neighborhood after I had forbidden her to. During her visit, while she was inside with her skanky male friend, Marsha, my three year old, wondered over to a chained up dog in the yard, and he bit her (it was bad enough that the skin was broken). I discovered it, she did not show it to me. When I found out from someone else who witnessed it a few days later we had an argument. In her mind admitting she should not have taken Marsha there was harder than telling the truth and letting me make sure the dog had his shots. Instead she opted to fabricate an unbelievable story about some stray dogs in the park. She knew she should not have taken her grand daughter to that house and left her unattended while she did whatever with that skanky man. Anyhow, during our argument, (the whole point in this story) she said I was cold-hearted and held a grudge too long. She was talking about me not making my dad a turkey sandwich. I argued that he got treated better than he deserved. Then, even after he had admitted sexual misconduct with his 12 year old daughter, she accused me of lying about what he had done. I didn't speak to her for quite awhile. I believe that this incident was the exact point when I started realizing that my beloved mother was not such a good person.
That was 26 years ago and just the beginning of many more such incidents. Not one does she acknowledge as unacceptable. She doesn't even admit that she was not such a good mother. I can forgive her and I have many times. I just wish once, she would say "I'm sorry" or "can you forgive me" or "I was wrong for doing...".
When I confront her, which I totally avoid whenever possible, she always denies doing such horrible things. She says she can't believe I would say such things to her. She calls me mean and cold. She made me mean and cold. I had to become estranged to her or I would have been crushed thinking she could treat her children the way she does. My brother who is eight years younger advised me well a few years ago. He said I expect too much from others. He told me to stop expecting her to do the right thing. Then it will not hurt me so much when she does the things she does. He was right, I try to stop expecting her to act morally, but it is sooo hard to not feel betrayed when your mom constantly exhibits such immoral and immature behavior.
This is just one incident. Just the beginning. I moved away from her, but she only got worse. More examples will follow. Thanks for listening. I feel better now.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Blessings
I have been following comments on an article on how it is illegal to feed the homeless. Through my reading I have become aware of how blessed we are. I know that I take for granted all the wonderful things God has provided for me over the years.
How many times have you thanked God for a car that works and enables you to go where ever and when ever you want? Or do you just complain about a scratch, dent or empty gas tank? Instead of whining because you have to get out in the heat and pump gas, why not be thankful we dont have to walk or ask for a ride or find money to ride the bus.
How many times have you been thankful for food? Not to mention a refrigerator, a house and electricity. This morning I was making myself an omelet. I poured the eggs into the shallow cast iron skillet (that I paid $25 for from QVC just because it says Paula Deen on the bottom) and I spilled some of the egg mixture on my ceramic stove top. While I was wiping up the mess with a Bounty paper towel from my paper towel holder I allowed my eggs to overcook. It was not pretty anymore and the cheese had cause the egg color to be brown instead of the pretty yellow omelet color we all love. I was about to dump the ugly clump into my pretty red wooden trash can that matches my breadbox when I realized what I was doing. I was about to remake my omelet and waste three eggs, shredded cheese, oil, butter, diced peppers and onions and other ingredients just because it was not as pretty as I wanted it to be. Are you kidding me? Am I kidding myself? (I ended up eating my omelet as it was)
So many of us never stop and look at what we have to be thankful for. We just take it all for granted like it is our right. Most of us don't realize the difference between rights and privileges until something is taken away. In my case it has been a real wake up call not being able to get the surgery I need to be able to walk and stand without pain. This wake up call comes to us all sometime, somewhere we just dont know when or how it is going to be delivered. Some get the call early in life and some after it is too late to change, but I believe we all get it some place in our time here on earth. Many of us get it a few times before we recognize it for what it is. It may even be the reason we are here, "the meaning of life" so to speak.
I believe we are all players in a large game. We move through the game learning...or not learning. Some of the players advance to better positions because they are quick learners while some are started out in a good position. Why we play the part we play and who is calling the shots are just a few of the questions we ask ourselves. Perhaps one day after we move on to the next place or thing or step we will gain answers to some of the questions we all are curious about. Perhaps not, for now we just have to play a good game, keep our spirits up and hope to make a difference in the life's of the other players. Maybe someone will pat you on the back one day and say well done, good and faithful servant.
How many times have you thanked God for a car that works and enables you to go where ever and when ever you want? Or do you just complain about a scratch, dent or empty gas tank? Instead of whining because you have to get out in the heat and pump gas, why not be thankful we dont have to walk or ask for a ride or find money to ride the bus.
How many times have you been thankful for food? Not to mention a refrigerator, a house and electricity. This morning I was making myself an omelet. I poured the eggs into the shallow cast iron skillet (that I paid $25 for from QVC just because it says Paula Deen on the bottom) and I spilled some of the egg mixture on my ceramic stove top. While I was wiping up the mess with a Bounty paper towel from my paper towel holder I allowed my eggs to overcook. It was not pretty anymore and the cheese had cause the egg color to be brown instead of the pretty yellow omelet color we all love. I was about to dump the ugly clump into my pretty red wooden trash can that matches my breadbox when I realized what I was doing. I was about to remake my omelet and waste three eggs, shredded cheese, oil, butter, diced peppers and onions and other ingredients just because it was not as pretty as I wanted it to be. Are you kidding me? Am I kidding myself? (I ended up eating my omelet as it was)
So many of us never stop and look at what we have to be thankful for. We just take it all for granted like it is our right. Most of us don't realize the difference between rights and privileges until something is taken away. In my case it has been a real wake up call not being able to get the surgery I need to be able to walk and stand without pain. This wake up call comes to us all sometime, somewhere we just dont know when or how it is going to be delivered. Some get the call early in life and some after it is too late to change, but I believe we all get it some place in our time here on earth. Many of us get it a few times before we recognize it for what it is. It may even be the reason we are here, "the meaning of life" so to speak.
I believe we are all players in a large game. We move through the game learning...or not learning. Some of the players advance to better positions because they are quick learners while some are started out in a good position. Why we play the part we play and who is calling the shots are just a few of the questions we ask ourselves. Perhaps one day after we move on to the next place or thing or step we will gain answers to some of the questions we all are curious about. Perhaps not, for now we just have to play a good game, keep our spirits up and hope to make a difference in the life's of the other players. Maybe someone will pat you on the back one day and say well done, good and faithful servant.
Importance of a strong healthy body
Sorry I have gotten so behind. I got a virus in my laptop and to make a long story short, I forgot where I had been blogging.
Anyhow, much growing has taken place within my self. Others may not notice it yet, but I have changed.
I have learned that your health is the most important thing you own. I have been limping around with pain in my thigh for more than 5 years now. After Roger died I bought a new car with the social security checks and joined Curves. Within a month the pain in my left side was so bad I had to stop going to workout at CURVES. At first I thought the work out was really working. Especially around my hips and waist. But after a few weeks of it getting worse and never easing up I decided to go to the clinic. It took awhile to get an appointment and turn in all the paperwork they require in order to process your application, but finally after about 3 months I was approved and had an appointment to see a doctor. Of course the appointment was a month away. After all the trouble I was sent for xrays and given the diagnosis of osteoarthritis and given pain pills. I went to several more appointments at different clinics and visited the ER of a few different hospitals only to hear the same old thing over and over again. A few months ago I got the clinic to let me see an orthopedic doctor who advised me to get a cane and a hip replacement.
Great! Not what I wanted to hear. So I went from sore muscle to wore out bones and joints. It only costs 39,000 dollars for the surgery so in my opinion I was back to square one. That kind of surgery is not something I could ever even hope to take part in. After a few months of walking around with a cane, dreaming of a job that did not require me to stand or walk and letting myself get more and more down, I got an idea. Maybe there was some organization or fund to help people in my position. I have worked since I was 14. I have a good education, a good car, a home with a mortgage. I have learned in my 47 years that there is always someone else who has stood exactly where you are, no matter where you find yourself at. So I decided to ask around. Finally after I was at the end of my rope I received a call of encouragement. Terrie at the clinic called and said she had worked out the surgery and physical therapy and was just waiting to hear from a doctor that may be willing to let me make payments for his services.
That was two days ago. After five years and 4 months it seems things may begin to get better. I have never felt so helpless and hopeless before in my life. Dont get me wrong, I am far from a bubbly and chipper person (I am very laid back and reserved), but I have always been able to figure a way out of my low points in life. I ...
[sorry I need to watch that word "I". I also know that I am not in charge of my life, there is a higher power. Prayer has kept me and my family fed and sheltered for many years. Although that is a whole nuther story for another time I just wanted to give credit where credit is due].
Back to where I was before.
No matter what problems and obstacles have come my way in the past, the solution has always been clear and achievable before. But my health, well I have never had this issue come up before. I have always been physically able to do what I pleased. Sure I tote a few extra pounds, but everything has always worked the way I wanted it to until 5 years ago. Ive heard 40 was over the hill and now I believe I understand. All the abuse and neglect I have put my body through is becoming evident now as I realize my limits and experience the life of a person who has physical limits. It took me long enough to see a light at the end of this tunnel. Surgery and recovery will be tough I know, but afterwards when I am well things will be different.
Anyhow, much growing has taken place within my self. Others may not notice it yet, but I have changed.
I have learned that your health is the most important thing you own. I have been limping around with pain in my thigh for more than 5 years now. After Roger died I bought a new car with the social security checks and joined Curves. Within a month the pain in my left side was so bad I had to stop going to workout at CURVES. At first I thought the work out was really working. Especially around my hips and waist. But after a few weeks of it getting worse and never easing up I decided to go to the clinic. It took awhile to get an appointment and turn in all the paperwork they require in order to process your application, but finally after about 3 months I was approved and had an appointment to see a doctor. Of course the appointment was a month away. After all the trouble I was sent for xrays and given the diagnosis of osteoarthritis and given pain pills. I went to several more appointments at different clinics and visited the ER of a few different hospitals only to hear the same old thing over and over again. A few months ago I got the clinic to let me see an orthopedic doctor who advised me to get a cane and a hip replacement.
Great! Not what I wanted to hear. So I went from sore muscle to wore out bones and joints. It only costs 39,000 dollars for the surgery so in my opinion I was back to square one. That kind of surgery is not something I could ever even hope to take part in. After a few months of walking around with a cane, dreaming of a job that did not require me to stand or walk and letting myself get more and more down, I got an idea. Maybe there was some organization or fund to help people in my position. I have worked since I was 14. I have a good education, a good car, a home with a mortgage. I have learned in my 47 years that there is always someone else who has stood exactly where you are, no matter where you find yourself at. So I decided to ask around. Finally after I was at the end of my rope I received a call of encouragement. Terrie at the clinic called and said she had worked out the surgery and physical therapy and was just waiting to hear from a doctor that may be willing to let me make payments for his services.
That was two days ago. After five years and 4 months it seems things may begin to get better. I have never felt so helpless and hopeless before in my life. Dont get me wrong, I am far from a bubbly and chipper person (I am very laid back and reserved), but I have always been able to figure a way out of my low points in life. I ...
[sorry I need to watch that word "I". I also know that I am not in charge of my life, there is a higher power. Prayer has kept me and my family fed and sheltered for many years. Although that is a whole nuther story for another time I just wanted to give credit where credit is due].
Back to where I was before.
No matter what problems and obstacles have come my way in the past, the solution has always been clear and achievable before. But my health, well I have never had this issue come up before. I have always been physically able to do what I pleased. Sure I tote a few extra pounds, but everything has always worked the way I wanted it to until 5 years ago. Ive heard 40 was over the hill and now I believe I understand. All the abuse and neglect I have put my body through is becoming evident now as I realize my limits and experience the life of a person who has physical limits. It took me long enough to see a light at the end of this tunnel. Surgery and recovery will be tough I know, but afterwards when I am well things will be different.
Friday, December 25, 2009
thoughts for today
If you read my previous blog then, you know a little about where I am today. I would like to tell you now, where I have been. My oldest memory is one of my brother who is one year, one week and one day younger than me. He was chasing me through the house with the fly swat. We were in a single wide mobile home and our parents were in their bedroom with the door shut. As we busted through the closed door I remember my mother saying "don't come in here, don't come in here". They were busy, and naked in the bed, I was only around three, but I knew we were not suppose to go in the room when they were doing that. It was okay, nothing traumatic, nothing new. We just turned around and chased each other back up the hall.
My parents had five children, I was the oldest. My brother Junior as I said was a little over a year behind me and then came Margo less than 11 months after Junior and then the twins. The twins were born in 1965 to my abused mother and only one of the little baby girls lived. The oldest twin came and the second one was a surprise. Her heart gave out from hours of working to be born unassisted. The story is that the doctor didn't learn of the second baby until it was too late and she was too weak to survive. She is buried in an unmarked grave in Kershaw County, SC. My mom spent a few months too devastated to acknowledge us or herself. To hear her tell it those first few months after she lost the twin, she doesn't remember anything at all. Then one day while she was watching her soap opera "Days of our Lives" she remembered that she had just given birth. The twins were born 2 years and 10 months after me. From October 1962 to August 1965, my momma had 5 babies from 4 pregnancies. The twins were not the last though. The twin that lived we will call Lucy. On the day Lucy started kindergarten, my youngest brother was born. He is eight years younger than me. We will call him Bruno. Colleen (that's me), Jr., Margo, Lucy and Bruno all with blond hair and fair skin, like their momma. Margo takes a little after daddy's family. More than the rest of us, she had some Indian characteristics. We just told her she was adopted, truth is she had the prettiest skin and hair. We all had the square Indian jaws and not much else from that side of the family.
I remember when Lucy was an infant. I remember because our trailer caught on fire. Margo and I were playing with dolls on the couch and momma was cooking behind us. Jr was burned because the stove caught on fire. Margo and I were rushed outside to a neighbors car who drove us to the hospital. I am not sure if I remember this or if it just seems familiar from hearing about it in my childhood. We had to stop the car and go back, because momma forgot the baby was asleep in the bedroom next to the kitchen. We all are fine so I suppose it was a slow burning fire, or maybe it only damaged the kitchen. Either way, we moved. We moved a lot. We never stayed in the same place for a whole year. I can keep up with my childhood by what school I went to in what grade, because until I moved out, I never went to the same school more than one grade. Once I went to five schools in one grade. I was always the new kid in school and I never had a best friend in my class. Not until I quit moving with them. Daddy always beat up momma and then we would leave him for awhile. She always went back to him though. Whether we liked it or not, without our approval, she always let him come back. Sometimes he moved into where we were, sometimes he took us all to rent a new house or trailer. We didn't mind mostly, daddy wasn't that mean to us, only her. We were small kids, he was bad when he drank and if she didn't mind, we didn't. We just went in the room and waited for the screaming to stop. Sometimes he made us watch. Sometimes he used us as entertainment.
Margo was a passer outer. If she got excited she would just faint. It didn't take much, playing too hard, a scary carnival ride or getting yelled at would make her turn white and flop to the ground. Daddy use to make her do it for company. Momma called it seizures, lung seizures. I don't know if a doctor was ever told about Margo's lung seizures or not. Sometimes Daddy would make Jr. hit her and pick a fight with her until she fainted. He had them do it for company just because he thought it was talent I guess. Momma didn't like it, but she let him do it, why not, she always woke up right after. No harm done. I guess it was better than taking a beating if she made daddy mad. (I wonder why we are all so screwed up now?)
My parents had five children, I was the oldest. My brother Junior as I said was a little over a year behind me and then came Margo less than 11 months after Junior and then the twins. The twins were born in 1965 to my abused mother and only one of the little baby girls lived. The oldest twin came and the second one was a surprise. Her heart gave out from hours of working to be born unassisted. The story is that the doctor didn't learn of the second baby until it was too late and she was too weak to survive. She is buried in an unmarked grave in Kershaw County, SC. My mom spent a few months too devastated to acknowledge us or herself. To hear her tell it those first few months after she lost the twin, she doesn't remember anything at all. Then one day while she was watching her soap opera "Days of our Lives" she remembered that she had just given birth. The twins were born 2 years and 10 months after me. From October 1962 to August 1965, my momma had 5 babies from 4 pregnancies. The twins were not the last though. The twin that lived we will call Lucy. On the day Lucy started kindergarten, my youngest brother was born. He is eight years younger than me. We will call him Bruno. Colleen (that's me), Jr., Margo, Lucy and Bruno all with blond hair and fair skin, like their momma. Margo takes a little after daddy's family. More than the rest of us, she had some Indian characteristics. We just told her she was adopted, truth is she had the prettiest skin and hair. We all had the square Indian jaws and not much else from that side of the family.
I remember when Lucy was an infant. I remember because our trailer caught on fire. Margo and I were playing with dolls on the couch and momma was cooking behind us. Jr was burned because the stove caught on fire. Margo and I were rushed outside to a neighbors car who drove us to the hospital. I am not sure if I remember this or if it just seems familiar from hearing about it in my childhood. We had to stop the car and go back, because momma forgot the baby was asleep in the bedroom next to the kitchen. We all are fine so I suppose it was a slow burning fire, or maybe it only damaged the kitchen. Either way, we moved. We moved a lot. We never stayed in the same place for a whole year. I can keep up with my childhood by what school I went to in what grade, because until I moved out, I never went to the same school more than one grade. Once I went to five schools in one grade. I was always the new kid in school and I never had a best friend in my class. Not until I quit moving with them. Daddy always beat up momma and then we would leave him for awhile. She always went back to him though. Whether we liked it or not, without our approval, she always let him come back. Sometimes he moved into where we were, sometimes he took us all to rent a new house or trailer. We didn't mind mostly, daddy wasn't that mean to us, only her. We were small kids, he was bad when he drank and if she didn't mind, we didn't. We just went in the room and waited for the screaming to stop. Sometimes he made us watch. Sometimes he used us as entertainment.
Margo was a passer outer. If she got excited she would just faint. It didn't take much, playing too hard, a scary carnival ride or getting yelled at would make her turn white and flop to the ground. Daddy use to make her do it for company. Momma called it seizures, lung seizures. I don't know if a doctor was ever told about Margo's lung seizures or not. Sometimes Daddy would make Jr. hit her and pick a fight with her until she fainted. He had them do it for company just because he thought it was talent I guess. Momma didn't like it, but she let him do it, why not, she always woke up right after. No harm done. I guess it was better than taking a beating if she made daddy mad. (I wonder why we are all so screwed up now?)
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