Why Bon Jovi Makes Me 16. Forever.

When I was 16, I bought 2 tickets to go see Bon Jovi in concert. One for me and one for the boy I thought I loved. I did not know at that time that unrequited love is not really love. He was always up front with me, and never played games with me, which in hindsight is pretty amazing for a 17 year old boy. I mean, I was a pretty easy mark at that time, because I really cared about this boy, He had family drama, was abandoned by his mother, and was ripe to be saved by someone. Enter ME, I thought. Add in the fact that we spent all of our time together, and he never dated anyone else the entire time we where friends, and you have a whole teenage angst driven movie. However, I moved away, he did not throw himself in front of the car to stop me, I met Ray, and things have progressed as they should have. And that's why I let God be in control of my life. He does it better.

Anyway, my friend April and her boyfriend went with us to the concert. 1990. Big hair. Check. Torn acid washed jeans. Check. We were good to go. We were at an outdoor arena in spring. Sitting high up in the grass, but that was what I preferred. So we have stars, sitting with my friends, and THE guy, waiting. Suddenly it occurred to me that Jon Bon Jovi was right down there. Right behind that stage. RIGHT NOW. Let me explain. I am a worrier. I rarely live in the moment. I worry about why i am worrying and not living in the moment. What if there is a fire? What if I have to go to the bathroom? What will I miss? How long will this concert last? How bad will traffic be? Is the car safe? This is just how my brain works. Then the stage went dark. And the beginning guitar solo from "Wanted Dead or Alive" began, and the stretched it out for 2 or 3 minutes. I remember just feeling like nothing else mattered but being there, in that moment, with my friends, enjoying that time. And that's what we did.

My kids laugh at me because they know when that riff comes on the radio to SHUT UP. I have to have my flashback, and I may or may not tell the story of how awesome that night was. Because it was. And so many of their songs have stories , but I'll spare you.

Some much stuff....

I have so many things in my head right now that it's been a little bit difficult deciding what to blog about. There are a lot of things that I want to say a little bit about, and a few things that I want to say A LOT about, but for various reasons, (the law, good manners) I cannot. So, here I am with a jumble of thoughts to share with you.

A close friend's husband is facing a medical crisis. I say crisis, because that is truly what it is. While his kids are technically grown, they lost their mother very young, so he is their only biological parent. I have not been friends with her husband, in fact, our friendship at times was strained by the fact that her husband and I did not see eye to eye on many things. Instead of creating friction, we just let some distance grow, but we always knew that we were there for each other, and more importantly, we were there for each other's children. Now He is very ill, and although we will never be close, I do not wish this for him, or anyone. I want to be able to be there for them both, and their children. And this is where it gets complicated. Now that I can't drive. I have to learn new ways to support my friends in their times of need. Before, I would go to the hospital and bring lunch, or pick up kids, or bring a meal, or whatever. Now I have to get creative. Cards, and texts, and just my words sometimes have to be enough. Knowing that I am praying for them in their situation takes on new meaning. When I say it, I truly mean it, because sometimes, that's all I have to offer. And many times that has to be enough.

Weddings and such......

     Some know, some don't, my oldest is engaged to be married, but not until 2017. There is a whole story and mess that goes along with the engagement that doesn't bear examining again. Suffice to say that it could have been handled better by everyone involved, and and let's leave it there. You are stupid when you are young, and that's just how it is. Everyone involved has worked to get past hurt feelings and to forget the things we maybe should not have said. ( That was not me, of course.😉) Her fiance is and was part of the family. As long as he remembers that he has used up his do-over. Lol.

     Anyway, now we are looking at venues. And dresses. And veils. And so on. And I want so much for every single thing to be special and meaningful for her. I want every word spoken to come from the heart. And every photo taken to make SOMEONE go "Awwwww!". I want her sisters to get along (hey, they have 2 years! They can all grow up by then, right??) I want ....... And there is the kicker. I want. Most of the time our problem is that we are TOO alike, so I am hoping that in planning a wedding, that could be a positive, right??

     

     In looking at Pinterest, otherwise known as the Devil, I came across a site that had some really good ideas for making a wedding a personal affair, not just a money wasting show. I am not telling because we may use A LOT of these, but the point is, there are people who want to be personal in their weddings again, and that makes me teary. We obviously are not wealthy, and do not pretend to be. I do know some Jonses', but they tend to screw up a lot, and I don't want to keep up with that. (not YOU! The other Jonses'!!)  My point, and I have several, is that I love weddings where the people LOVE each other, and you can see it. They want to celebrate it, and want you to celebrate it too. That's my goal. And I hope it's Amandas's goal too. 

     Spoiler: God is gonna be there! I know him! I know him!😂😂

Grandma's House

     When I close my eyes, and think about my grandparents' house, I can actually smell the fragrances that were always there. Meals that had been cooked. Laundry, as the washer and dryer was in the kitchen. And the sunshiny, dusty smell of the back bedroom, where the haunted wardrobe and the stair step photo of the children was. I was never afraid to go in that room, but I don't remember sleeping in there, because it got hot. I was only there in the summers, and the window units in the old house did not cool that room, so it mostly stayed closed off. To me it was a place to be explored, to sit and read. 

     The kitchen had a pass through bar, that my cousin and I, and the little girl down the street used to play diner. Our main menu items were grilled cheese and KoolAid, but you got service with a smile. And maybe a giggle or two. The back door was always open in the daytime. To the left of the back door was the washer and dryer. And in front of that was a kitchen table. I mainly remember eating there, or at the bar. 

     The dining room was where the toaster was for some reason, and it was what I called the pop fly toaster. When the toast was done, it shot the toast literally into the air, and if you didn't get it, it fell behind the cabinet that it sat on. I was very small for my age, and probably had about a loaf of bread toasted behind that cabinet each summer. The dining room table sat directly in front of the air conditioner so it was a race to eat your dinner before it cooled. This is also where the deep freeze was. Always full. Of what, I have no idea. Lots of whitish packages.

     In the living room was Pawpaws chair. He looked just like the old man from the movie Up, and I can smell his soapy, shavy, smell so easily. He wore white shirts and Liberty overalls every day except Sundays. When he died and was laid out in his Gulfport Fire Deprtment Captain's uniform, I did not recognize him. Where were his overalls? 

     By his chair was the telephone table, and the phone was actually still there in the 80's. With the phone book. There wer extensions in the house, but the table remained. Also in the house was an AWESOME (!) picture of Jesus with his hands protecting an 18 wheeler. My dad was a truck driver, and my grandmother just loved that somewhat tacky picture. They also had a T.V., although there was a preacher at their church who believed that the T.V. was the devil. When he pulled up, Grandma would holler, "Oh, turn the tv off!". And that was it until he left. The thing was sitting there in the living room still popping with static electricity, so I know they weren't fooling anyone. I believe it was just a respect thing. Pawpaw loved Urkel, on Family Matters, just laughed at him constantly. So if the preacher showed up during Urkel time, he may have run the risk of losing a Sunday attendee.

     My grandparents had separate bedrooms, as people did at that time, after a certain point. I loved the sound of the police and fire scanner that Pawpaw had on in his room all night long. And they would talk to each other from room to room. If something "busy" was on the scanner, Grandma would ask him what it was, or where it was. He would sleep, but he still listened to that thing all night. I guess his years as a fireman trained him to do both. I slept in the room with her, and never slept better. There were no doors between the two rooms, just a hallway, where the bathroom was. 

     Every evening after dinner, everyone moved to the front porch (unless it was Urkel time). There was a swing, and the metal chairs that bounced. When I was little, the porch seemed about 10 feet off the ground. In later years, I saw that it was about 3 feet. Go figure. We would sit and swing, and talk to neighbors until dark. My cousin Jodi and I would swing on the porch swing and sing for hours. 

     There are so many more memories. Walking down the street to get Slush puppies. Playing in the forbidden tree. Riding in the yellow Datsun with Pawpaw before he smashed it and himself. I keep all of those memories tucked away, until I smell something or hear something that puts me right back there. Then I remember. And I miss them both so very much.

When Filters Get Clogged

Because Ray and I have made a conscious decision that divorce will not be an option for us, the cosmos he's played many jokes on us. Several major health scares, financial (all but) ruin, job losses, parental death, sick kids, we have run the track. So in the course of our marriage, in order to avoid felony charges, we have at different times, both together and individually, spent time on therapists couches. We have never spent a LONG time ( though maybe we should :)) with any one therapist, but we have definitely learned some things from each.

It's all our parent's faults.

Haha. Just kidding. Really the main thing we learned has come into play here recently with my whole health debacle. The therapist ( using that term because I can't remember what she was, psychiatrist, psychologist, whatever) told us that each person hears things through the filter of their own experiences, feelings, etc., and that what you say may not be what that person "hears". I found that very interesting because it seems to be very simple yet very true. I know I have often spoken to people about one thing, and gotten a totally off the wall reaction about something else. Filter clogged! Just saying this has become a diffuser when there is a misunderstanding. Instead of "That's NOT what I said, you big stubborn jackass!", I say, "Your filter is clogged, because that is not what I said or meant." And then I mumble "jackass" under my breath. Marriage is a living, evolving thing. 

My point is this, when you have a communication problem, is the other person's filter clogged? Are they responding to what they think you said or meant? 

Man, I am insightful after getting up at 4 am and drinking 2 cups of coffee........

You Asked For It

A few people have asked me to update my blog more often. Well here it is. Today what you get will probably not be wity and fun. It won't be light and giggly. If that's what you are looking for, hit escape now. Seriously, turn back, because I got issues today.

If you are still reading, I have to assume you are ok with my issues. And the main one is this. I am disabled. It has taken me a while to accept that. And now that I have accepted it, I am really learning how to live with it, and what my limits are. So, I am not willing to bang my head into the wall anymore. Literally and figuratively. My disabilities are not visible. I don't use a cane, even though I am blind in one eye, and have severely compromised vision in the other. Should I carry a cane? Wear a shirt that says "Can't see!"? I am dizzy ALL THE TIME. No, really. All the time. Take that in. That great feeling when you've had a few drinks and you have a buzz going? That. With no drinks. And without the great part. Just the stumbling around, and the falling and bruises all the time. And being in a store and wondering if people think you are drunk. It sucks. The drs don't know why it's happening, or really what to do for it except to give me meds that help but make me sleepy. And when I sleep all the time, I just feel guilty for all the stuff that did not done.

I'm just frustrated right now. I have always been very independent. I am still, to a point. So when I ask for help, it's because I NEED it. It's more frustrating than ever to not get that help. I don't want a big hoopla about it, I just need the help. And I'm also stubborn, so I'm not going to beg for help. I will just feel resentful that you didn't see my need. I can't help it that that is not logical.

Maybe tomorrow I will be back to my goal setting, list checking self, but right now, I'm just irked.

Losing Plates Left and Right

It's been 8 months since my last blog post. If you know me, you pretty much know why. If you follow my blog, but don't know me personally, I guess I'll catch you up.

On May 30, I had a "semi-emergency" surgery to remove a hemorrhagic cystic ovary. I was in a good deal of pain, but it was not life threatening, so we had to wait 1 extra day for insurance approval. The surgery went well, and off I went to recovery. Sometime that night, I stopped breathing, and experienced both a stroke and a heart "event" called Broken Heart Syndrome. It has a Latin name also, but is essentially a shock induced very mild heart attack. So mild in the heart attack arena that they don't like to call it that much. Still, it it what it is. So, I wake up the next day with tubes in my throat, in the ICU where I stayed for several days ( I am simplifying this, I moved in and out a few times) and can't see at all out of my left eye, and everything is very blurry in my right. AND the tube in my throat keeps me from telling anyone. I was not a happy camper to say the least. I learned later about the whole "Code Blue" all over the hospital, and all the chaos. In true Ray fashion, the nurses could not see to intubate me, and asked for a light. He whips his pocket Mag-light out of his pocket and hops right up into the middle of the group SAVING MY LIFE! I guess the nurses figured any flashlight would work, because they used they very unsterile pocket light, and it worked. I stayed almost 2 weeks, saw 7 different drs and 3 different therapists. I left wearing a Life Vest, a wearable, portable defibrillator. Major pain in the neck. It alarmed often but never shocked me. I was EXTREMEMLY dizzy all the time, still totally blind in my left eye, and almost blind in my right. 

Fast forward to today. I completed a few months of physical therapy and went from being dependent on a rolling walker to being able to walk on my own. I do have days where I look like I've had a few drinks. I can't drive at all, and won't be able to again. I had to leave my job dispatching at the police department and that was really hard. Not only do I miss doing the job, we need the money (duh), but I miss all my PD friends. Everyone says they will still be around, but that wasn't true before I had to quit, when I was just out in medical leave. I just have to acknowledge that I viewed some people as friends when they viewed me as a co-worker. 

My vision in my right eye is better. The nerves jump back and forth, a little bit on good days, crazy on bad days, so I move my head sometimes to see. I can read on my Kindle when it is on it's largest setting and I have my thick glasses on. I can type and use FB and such on my iPad so that I can enlarge stuff. My left eye has a teeny bit of peripheral vision, but a big blob right in the middle. Puny on a pair of sunglasses, then put a pat of butter in the middle of the left lense. That's the closest I can get it describing it. The eye specialist believes this is as good as it will get. The retinal nerves are damaged and they do not regenerate like some other nerves.

I am still dizzy, almost all the time. I feel like I have had about 2 glasses of wine on an empty stomach. I don't fall often, but when I do, it's more funny than traumatic. I have only scared and hurt myself once, and that wasn't even bad. My dr does not really have any answers to why I am so dizzy.

My family spent their whole summer taking care of me. Especially Amanda. She became my driver, and drove Ms Daisy to A LOT of doc appointments. And if you know me and Amanda, we are just alike, which made for some interesting rides. I have been told in the past that I have some control issues. Believe me, this has cured that!! Amanda may disagree when it comes to her driving my car, though.

Sarah and Emily spent a lot of time watching tv with me, laying in my bed. They did everything for me that I asked and more.

I am at the point of making a routine for myself. I jokingly (somewhat truthfully) say that if a car pulls into my driveway, I get into it. I have learned to knit with my eyes closed, and have begun to sew again. That entails a lot of ripping seams out that I messed up, but I am trying. And I baked cookies this week. Over 6 months since I baked cookies. It seems like such a little thing until you can't do it.

So, I have had to let a few plates hit the ground and try to be ok with it. And I think I will be, eventually.