Sunday, June 30, 2013

Acronyms Make My Head Hurt.

I hate taking showers. Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I dislike being clean. But, for my mind the shower is a place to relive memories that hurt the most. Or, to play out the worst possible scenarios. I have flashbacks to moments around the time when I left my ex-husband. The moments with the kids. Things I was told that they said. I don’t regret leaving. But, they still hurt more today than they did back then. And, the flashbacks from losing Sarah. They literally take my breath away. I find myself sobbing curled up in the floor of the shower. Recently, I asked my husband to come back to check on me if I am in the shower too long. A friend posted this recently on Facebook. "I have a form of OCD called intrusive thinking. This means that thoughts or memories sometimes get stuck in my head and just replay over and over." I am beginning to think that I would possibly benefit from more help than I originally thought. I had another friend that commented that I had PTSD. Do I think that is right? I don't know. But, I am trying to cope with the memories and flashbacks over and over. I know that they will never go away fully. But, I do know that in time that the episodes will grow to be further apart. And, I am sure they will be just as vivid when I have them, now. 

A Good Mother Counts Body Hair

Since many of my friends are around my age, many of their children are the same age as mine. Many of them are hitting puberty. The raging funk that follows behind them in a green toxic cloud. The fun of counting underarm hairs. Yes, I count his hairs for him. He is very proud of them. Getting to watch Ty sleep EVERY time he gets in the car. (Jerry keeps reassuring me that it is normal. And, that he did the same thing.)
But, it is getting really hard to read some of the posts. And, it leaves me feeling selfish and guilty. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love to hear about the kids. And, I have a child going through it. But, when the talk to turn to the subjects of clothes and hair, broken flat irons leading to thermal nuclear meltdowns, back talking, siblings fighting and slinging things at each other’s heads, kids grumbling about their cars it takes everything I have to not break down and cry. The pictures of Sarah's friends getting their driver's license were the hardest thing for me to see. She would have turned sixteen on 12-12-12. And, everyone kept making a big deal about the date. I was receptionist at a job I hated. People kept walking by my desk laughing about it over and over. Someone Finally noticed that I Looked like I had been ran over a few dozen times by a Sherman tank. I was completely exhausted in every way that you can be exhausted, I had sobbed on and off all day. Visine would have been useless. I just wanted to sleep. I should have, in hind sight, asked off for the day. But, I was new at the job and did not feel like I could. 

Then comes the guilt. I really want to hear about every one's kids and how they are doing. I am going through the whole teenage thing with Ty. So, I don't want to feel alone. So, I feel horrid for complaining to myself. Even though no one hears me. I still feel like I am hurting people. There is a guilt in losing a child that people do not expect. I felt guilty for the fact that my parents were not just mourning the loss of a grandchild. They were worried about me. My husband had only had a daughter a couple of years. Just long enough to really get to know her. Then, had her ripped away. And, then had to take care of me on top of it. Many of my friends had children that were friends of Sarah. And, she was one of those kids that did not just get close to the kids. She was close to the parents, too. So, their families were grieving the lost of her friend, their child's friends and were still worried about me. Oh, and there was Jerry being the check in person. He was bombarded by people checking on my without my knowledge. I am not complaining about it. Neither did he. He had his plate full. But, he never once turned down another helping. And, the diabetic parents that knew of Sarah's death. How on earth was I to live with the guilt of them now being scared to let their child sleep at night. 

I am accepting that it's OK to be frustrated. Anger is an emotion that I have not gone through much with the loss of my child. Surprisingly. So, maybe this is how my anger is manifesting. I am just glad that it is not at anyone. Well, except for days like to today. But, that is a blog for another time.

Wednesday, June 26, 2013


I have not told a lot of people. But, there have been multiple occasions when I have considered taking my own life. It’s been a while. The same anxieties and such are there. But, I finally have enough self-worth to realize I would be missed and the world would indeed not be a better place for some people without me in it. I am the one that when people start going on about how selfish suicide is, has to explain that when you are at the point of seriously considering killing yourself, you genuinely and whole hearted believe your loved ones would be better off without you. If you have not been there, you will not understand. I never felt like I quite fit in anywhere. I was fairly well liked. To me it seemed more like I was tolerated. I had a few friends that I genuinely felt like wanted me around. I never found my groove. I have finally come to terms that my role in life may be that of unintentional jester. But, I never found a style or social group that I really fit in. I had something in common with most people. But, there were times that even made things worse.


This continued until I was an adult. A few years ago, I reconnected with a few old friends, including my now husband (we went to college together), David (an old friend that I dated on and off throughout high school) and my little brother, even. They are all nerds of some sort. They are all into sci-fi, comics, cult classic movies and such. They are also into art. When talking with them, I felt myself drawn closer to home. I had grown up watching Star Wars, Star Trek Next Gen and the Spiderman and X-Men cartoons. I had peeps of Doctor Who at a friend’s home. In college we listened to Dr. Demento A LOT.  It was really the movies V for Vendetta, Watchmen and 300 that hooked me in.  


I had, OK I still have a huge celebrity crush on Gerard Butler. I was a huge fan before 300 or PS I Love You. The honary grin, the eyes like the ocean, the Scottish brogue… Where was I again? Oh, yeah. I actually went to a movie in the theater for the first in a long time. The movie was based on a graphic novel. Well, Doug gave me his paperback copy of the movie adaption of V for Vendetta to read. Then, the graphic novel. Next the movie on DVD. Then finally, he handed me Watchmen. I think that was what finally set it’s hooks into me. I started making regular trips to the comic book store.


While Jerry and I dated and cohabited, he took the opportunity to help me find my nerd roots. I have always been a huge Batman fan. I am truly a Gotham Girl. Yes, I am planning on eventually getting a tat stating so. I sank my claws right in. I found titles I enjoyed and started my Catwoman collection. I began to revel in The shows that I eventually became obsessed with. Firefly, Dresden Files and such.

Then came the mad man in a blue box. I had seen bits and pieces of the 4th Doctor, Tom Baker, at my friends home and on the occasion PBS would show an episode. I knew the scarf well. And, I also knew that I would eventually watch more of the show. Not long after I had moved back to Abilene, I watched my first full episode of Doctor Who. The library episode. The first time the Doctor meets River. And, I found my doctor. If you ask any Whovian (a fan of the show) who their Doctor is, they will give you an enthusiastic  response. And, it will usually be the doctor from the first episode they watched in full.

The Whovians, gamers, table-top gamers, comic book enthusiasts, sci-fi fans, cosplayers and the rest of the gang are the least judgemental group of people you will ever meet. At first might think they are a little stuck up. But, you find in time that they are overcompensating for insecurities. But, if you ever get them on their favorite nerdy/geeky topic, you won't get them to stop talking. And, one of my favorite thing is that if you are willing to learn, they will teach you everything they know. And, you don't have to be in the group long before you become a teacher, too. Everyone has a place! Warrior, healer, mystic, shoe specialist, IT guy, fountain of knowledge.

When I went to my first comic book convention, it was the first time i truly felt at home at a social event. I was among my people. I can not explain the sense of freedom to be in a place where, or the first time ever, I was not worried about fitting in or annoying people! And, I have made several new friends, through my husband and some on my own that are enthusiasts like us! I finally feel like I have value. I am getting teary eyed typing about it.

So, remember next time you start to mock a nerd/geek, remember that they are proud of who they are and what they represent! Just like you should find pride in who you are. Even if we find it in a different place.


I Wanna Wake Up Now

Another Old One. This was from a couple of days after Sarah passed. September 18, 2011

I am looking up music for the services Tuesday. We picked out her clothes. I nearly hyperventilated.
Casket is chosen. I do pretty good.
Then, I see the deviled egg dish and break down. She made the best deviled eggs. It was her job.
And, all I can think is that she would want us to celebrate the time we had with her. A wise friend told my brother, "She was a bad ass. She wouldn't want us to be sad." I had a lot of people said that she just looked like one of those girls who could take care of herself.
So, I am gathering music that would make her smile. And, maybe make us smile, too.
She would want us to put on some My Chemical Romance or the Ramones and dance around the living room, or roll the windows down and sing at the top of our lungs.
I love you, Baby Girl. I miss you. And, I know I can't have you back. And, I know God has a plan. I just hope that I make you proud. And, tell Jerry Lynn hello for me. I'll take care of his baby if he takes care of mine.

What Have I Done?

This is an old story that I wrote back in February of 2010. Figured I would share it.

I should have woke up to the buzzing of my alarm clock, signaling me that the sun had set, and it was safe to emerge from the warm cocoon of blankets and quilts I had wrapped myself in. I needed to feed soon. I never should have gone to bed without eating, but the night of leaping from rooftop to rooftop looking for bad guys had taken it’s toll. Instead, I am awaked my sounds of a scuffle outside. There were seven people from the sounds and smell of it, five men and two women. Crap. Just what I need a homicide just outside my window. I really didn’t want to move again. So, I decided to intercede. The old dilapidated building had many rooms well suited for my kind. The windows had been boarded up years ago. And, the doors locked. The only way in was through a 5th story window. Years ago, one of us had removed the elevator from the shaft, and gave us a perfect access tunnel to the outside world. Dinner would have to wait. A running start, and one deep step, and up in the air. There is nothing as exile rating as flying through the air. I grabbed the edge of the door, and pulled myself into the now empty hallway. In it’s prime, there would have been men and women in their finery, heading to the grand ballroom for dinner. Now just people like me.
I looked down, realizing that I was still in the clothes from the night before. I had been in a hurry to escape the setting sun. I had been distracted by some idiot girl who decided that 5 am was a safe time to run in downtown. What an idiot. Little did she know that by beating the snot out of the guy following her, I saved her life. I should have fed then. But, like I said the sun was coming up. And, I don’ t want to fry. I shed the coat, it would slow me down. Jeans and a tank top would do. And the big black boots. I loved them! They were intimidating as hell.
I stepped to the window to check out the situation. Looked like the guy could use some help. Typical, wearing a long black duster. There had been lots of slayers who made their way through town. Most of them were killed by the other beasties and demons before they ever saw a vampire. I didn’t hold a grudge against the slayers, mind you. The world would be a better place without us. I had tried to destroy myself several times. But, self preservation always kicked in. An animal instinct. But, this guy looked like he could hold his own. “Let’s see what he’s got,” I thought to myself.

He was fast, as fast as they were. I knew most of the “people” in the neighborhood. I recognized two werewolves, two vampires and The Black Widows. I am not sure if they are witches, mutants, or what. But, they had some odd powers. From what I understood that they only worked on men. This guy didn’t have a shot with those two around. “Here goes nothing,” I whispered to myself, stepping off the ledge. Just as being able to leap five stories in the air is an advantage, so is falling 5 stories with out getting a scratch. Landing like a cat on all fours, quietly. He heard me. I don’t know how, but her heard me. So did the vampires. They were stupid, and young. When they looked at me, he threw 2 stakes, impaling each of them hitting their targets. Right through the ribs. How could someone not supernatural not make that shot. A slayer normally has to go up behind the ribs to make a kill shot like that. But, he wasn’t through. We all stood there frozen in amazement as he pulled a large sword from it’s sheath on his back. Anywhere the moon touched it, flames sprung forth. And, in one fail swoop, he lopped of their heads, rolling around on the ground. Spinning actually, from the speed of the action.
I was also distracted. Sharp shiny things made me nervous and fascinated me. But, suddenly, I could feel the hair on the back on of my neck stand on end. One of the fur covered fiends had descended on the man in black. And, the other was charging at me. I wanted to watch the other fight. But, the whole self preservation thing kicked in . A well placed roundhouse kick to the jaw slowed him down, but not by much. It reminded me of a cat fighting a dog. My moves more smooth and graceful. His full of brute strength. I broke a few ribs with a flying elbow. But, I didn’t expect his reaction, and hand nearly threw my chest. To my side I could hear the bang of a gun. And, whimpering. Then, as I was sliding back along the concrete, just before I hit the wall, a hint of silver slid right into my hand. There was no time for praying the bullets were silver. I got my shot in his head, just before his teeth closed around my legs. From the way his body fell instantly to the ground, I knew I had my answer. Yep, they were silver al right.
I had forgotten about the sisters. They were more formidable of an opponent than he would expect. I had seen them at work. They used their bodies as weapons as much as their powers. The Web, all in black. What little she was wearing could create any physical sensation she wanted. And, Venom, all in red, could deceive the mind. She could make you think you needed to walk off the side of a building if she wanted to . However, today, she wasn’t in the mood. She simply turned and ran. The Web, however, seemed to be itching for a fight. He stood there smiling. Like they were having a silent conversation. The longer they stood there, the bigger he smiled, and the more angry she got. Somehow, she had no effect on him. It was hilarious. The harder she tried, the more mad she would get. It wasn’t until just then that I realized how hungry I was. She pulled her hand back and slapped him, hard. Causing blood to fly from his mouth. And, it looked like he had a rough fight with his wolf, too. As he turned with the force from the slap, I could see the claw marks in his sleeve. The smell of his blood, sweeter than most, almost like apples, filled my nostrils. I was overwhelmed be the scent.
Recognizing the look in my eyes, The Web ran. He should have. But he was hurt pretty bad. Looked like he had a broken leg. I should have ran. But, I was so hungry. And, his blood was calling me. It’s song or warmth and life. I could sense every pulse of his heart. Every beat as it shoved the elixir of life coursing through his veins. Every artery full of sustenance. I tried no to pounce, fighting my instincts. But, Before I knew it, I was bent over him, sucking the life from him literally. When I finally gained some composure, I realized what I had done. The lycan had nailed me in the face, busting the skin open. Wounds like that take time to heal. Even for us. I was covered in my own blood, mingled now in his. What had I done? If my blood made it into any opening in his body, he would turn…into someone like me.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Goin Out... Yikes!!

Tomorrow is a big day. I get to go to my first Rock Concert. I will be going out on my first night out with my best friends,  Jennifer at It will be my first television interview. And, I get to meet Bret Michaels. And, I suffer from anxiety. Especially social anxiety. It is not like some people where it’s being out in the world in general. For me, it is “social” situations. I do pretty well when I get there. But, the getting there is another story.

Let’s go back in time… It was the 1987-1988 school year. I had been invited to join Eighth Grade Assembly. It was intended to be an honor to be invited. But, it felt like it was just all of the kids whose parents were involved in PTA. Anyway, select students were invited and what is consisted of was something like five or six dances during your eighth grade year. It was intended to be a way to give us more of a sense of community.  To encourage us to reach out past the walls of our schools. They were fairly pleasant. And, I usually had an OK time once I found my friends. Now, school dances, I was fine. I knew the kids and the building. But, I did not know hardly any of these kids. There were many occasions that I would have debilitating sinus headaches the day of. I missed one dance because of one. In hind sight, we realized they were actually tension headaches.  I still have the anxiety when there will be people I do not know well. Or, will be somewhere that I am familiar with.

So, a rock concert, even at a bar, is intimidating. There are far more people in a small space than I am accustomed to. And, to be honest, last time I was there was the last time I drank in public. And, it was not pretty. I had no intention of having that much. But, apparently I did. Vodka is a vile, evil concoction. But, I am going with Jennifer. Jennifer is my only friend I have that I have NO filter with. As sad, twisted, needy or demented as it sounds, she understands. She and I met the day her daughter was diagnosed with diabetes. She was the person I wanted to see most at Sarah’s funeral. And, her family can sleep a little easier at night now that they have a diabetic alert dog. The dog was a response to the need to protect their child from losing their battle with diabetes.  She has more anxiety and different issues than me. But, I love her like she was my sister and want her to be as happy and well-adjusted as possible without being boring.

 A few weeks before I found out about the Bret Michael’s concert, I had told Jerry that I would love to be able to tell him thank you for all that he has done for the diabetic community in person. If you did not know, he was diagnosed  as a Type 1 diabetic when he was 6. (for more info I had hem and hawed about going. And, when I realized that one of the few baseball games I would be responsible for getting him to was the same night, it saved me from the decision. My son insisted that I go to the concert. But, I sincerely wanted to take him to the game.

Then I get the message from Jennifer that a local television station wants to interview us before the show and wants to try and arrange a meet and greet. So, hopefully tomorrow Jennifer and I will get to face our fears together. And, we will get to thank a man trying to help to make the lives of the diabetic community easier by raising awareness. I have a feeling there may be a lot of tears. From both of us. So wish us luck! Hopefully we will have photographic evidence. 

Saturday, June 15, 2013

Welcome to My Mid-life Crisis

I have never in my life had my hair professionally colored. And, I had bought this awesome orange wig for Wizard World that I fell in love with. It is this great bright orange. We were in Austin. No one batted an eye. I wanted my hair that color!!! It was flattering to my skin tone and made my eyes POP! Well, after getting back to Abilene I was sitting getting a tattoo from Richard. We were telling him about our trip. And, the wig. He informed us that his girlfriend excelled at funky colors. 

Well, I actually met her that day and we became fast friends. Then, I found this picture. I got excited that I could do something like this and pull it back so that it wouldn't cause any wrecks in Abilene. 

Fast forward to today. We didn't go as high as I wanted originally. Partly, in case my hair didn't react well, I could have a decent style if we cut it off.  : )

I could totally do Magenta, the character and the color. It was even bigger by the time she had it all combed out.

And, here we go. :) We decided that it needs some pieces in the top. When she was blowing it dry, their were some twigs that looked like they were highlights. It looked awesome. And, add some dark purple to the ends.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Wait... Do I Know You?

I realize and hope that all of my readers do not actual know me in the sense that we have never met. We could have shot dirty looks at each other across a restaurant, liked the same George Takei post, even read the same blogs or have friends in common. So, I figure I should take a moment to let you get to know me. And, who knows. Maybe I will get to let me know myself better in the process.

I am not going to give you the entire, “I remember a brilliant white light as the fluid in my body was purged through my lips” shpill. Maybe one day. But, today we’ll just go back a few years. I had just moved back to my hometown. I had left my now ex-husband. I refuse to bash the man. Some people don’t get or understand that. That is their baggage, not mine. I am just going to leave it with he makes a great ex-husband and leave it at that. I was dating an old college friend. I had two children. They were 10 and 13 at the time.  Sarah completely understood why I left. Her little brother, not so much. We were living at my parent’s house. My brother was there, too. I say we. But, the kids wanted to stay in their home town. And, I had free room and board at the house in mine. So, I have dad weekends.

I eventually moved in with Jerry. I was trying to put it off. But, he had a three bedroom house all to himself. And, the kids each got a room.  I should back up just a bit. I also lost my job. Well, I was fired. They kept me longer than I would have. So in the meantime, around the time I moved, I started working for the Census Bureau and at Radio Shack. I couldn’t do both. And, I did not have an aggressive enough personality for the census job. I nearly had panic attacks.

Along the way, I garnered a great group of friends. I am still learning how to be a friend. I had them until I got married. Once married, I just wasn’t much of a friend to anyone. And, other people could sense I was losing myself.  Many of these people told me they were glad to have me back after the divorce. I had not realized how much I changed. I am glad to have them and all of my new friends, too.

January 6, 2011 Jerry finally proposed. I hope it was because he really wanted to marry me and not the death threats from friends if he didn’t. The kids had grown to adore Jerry. My son, too. Jerry’s mom and I hit it off well. She sobbed when we told her that we were getting married on what would have been her and Jerry’s father’s 40th anniversary. My parent’s 41st was the day after. It only seemed appropriate. Jerry’s dad passed away right before he turned 4. And, he shares a birthday with his dad.

The kid’s dad got married in February. We got married in June. I had picked up a second job working at a cafĂ© that was opened form 11-2, Monday through Friday. Working both jobs was exhausting. But, it kept me busy.


The Whetsel Wedding took place on June 22. There were friends and family, pouring rain, a tornado, and electrical outage and a friend locking her keys in the car that was already loaded down with stuff from the wedding. But, we were happy and married. Our family was official. The kids were glad to be able to call Jerry their “real” step-dad. Both kids were about to start new schools. They were starting middle and high school. Things were going well. They were some rough spots we got through them as a family. I had quit the job at Radio Shack. I did not want to miss all of the time I would miss with the kids. It was one of the best things I had ever done in hindsight.  It was our last summer with Sarah.

Thursday night, Sarah and I were texting back and forth. Jerry was at work. (He worked ridiculous hours back then.) And, Sarah’s dad was in Albuquerque. His dad had heart surgery at the VA hospital and would be heading in the next morning. I was watching Vampire Diaries. She was at her step-brother’s first football game. She was so proud. She was fourteen. She had learned most of the rules of football. Well, at least enough to keep up with the game. She had picked a college team (UT) and a NFL team (The Ravens, they were the favorites of one of her favorite bands). We message the entire game. Her telling me about the game. Me telling her about the show. We were very excited because The Secret Circle was coming on next. I had convinced her to read both the Vampire Diaries and the Secret Circle a year or so before. (Before it was “cool.” I had the paperbacks from when they first came out during my college days.)And, TSC was premiering the first episode. I agreed not to tell her about it. I would wait until she saw it. They had the DVD player set. The watched Diaries but, waited on the other. It was already a late night and she had school the next day. She never got to see it.


We got a frantic phone call from her step-mom. She was sobbing, she mentioned CPR and the ambulance was there. I told her we were on the way. It was 6:15 or so. And, of course, we had to stop for gas before the half hour trip to the hospital. Jerry dropped me off that door so that I could go on in. The ambulance was at the door already for the next run. Everyone was standing around the room. Very solemn. Several people I knew as members and member’s spouses from the fire department were there. They had heard the page. They had seen my kids grow up. Their father was voted into the department a few days before Ty was born. One of them said, “This is the mother.” I sat down wide-eyed thinking what the hell?! That was when I noticed the doctor and nurse standing there and I hear the words you never want to hear. “We tried everything we can.” The rest of the day comes in bits and pieces. You know those primal screams of anguish that cavemen do in the movies? Imagine one of them on crack with PMS. I was screaming worse. I scared Ty so bad he ran out of the room. Their step mother did the same. My friends came out of the wood work and we were bathed in love and prayer.


We had joked about recording the funeral because it wouldn’t be “standard.” Sarah lived in a small town with a big city mind. We wanted it to be about her. So we played the songs SHE would want and a couple that we sang in the car. I am sure it was the first time My Chemical Romance was played during a funeral in a small West Texas town. She packed the local high school auditorium. There were at least 500 people there. The freshman class sat behind is. Each bringing her a rose. The last time I saw her face, she was surrounded by red roses. It was beautiful.


When it came time to head to the cemetery, I froze. I begged Jerry not to make me go. I didn’t want to get in the truck. He finally coaxed me in. I have always believed in the power of prayer. But, after that day, I can tell you I have FELT the power of prayer. We actually made it through the day without too many tears and there were a lot of smiles and laughter. We could feel the serenity and peace flow over us.


Since then, I have changed jobs twice, acquired more pets, got involved in local theater and questioned my sanity. We are learning how to help our son who has been diagnosed with ADHD. Even he asked for helped. And, when I say “our” son, I mean Ty’s Dad, Step-mom, Step-Dad and Me. He is a loved child. We get through one day at a time. But, the important thing is that we are still going. And, we are making him a priority and not letting him feel like grieving his sister is more important than loving him. I try not to focus on her lost. But, this blog is part of my grieving process. It comes up a lot. So, on a closing note, I am going to post the song by My Chemical Romance that we played at her funeral. The album version. We played a more orchestral one the band did for the recovery relief after the earthquakes and tsunami in Japan.


Sing it out

Boy, you've got to see what tomorrow brings

Sing it out Girl, you've got to be what tomorrow needs

for every time that

They want to count you out

Use your voice every single time

You open up your mouth
Sing it for the boys, sing it for the girls

Every time that you lose it, sing it for the world

Sing it from the heart, sing it 'til you're nuts

Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts
Sing it for the deaf, sing it for the blind

Sing about everyone that you left behind

Sing it for the world, sing it for the world
Sing it out

Boy, they're gonna sell what tomorrow means

Sing it out

Girl, before they kill what tomorrow brings
You've got to make a choice

If the music drowns you out

And raise your voice every single time

They try and shut your mouth
Sing it for the boys, sing it for the girls

Every time that you lose it, sing it for the world

Sing it from the heart, sing it 'til you're nuts

Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts
Sing it for the deaf, sing it for the blind

Sing about everyone that you left behind

Sing it for the world, sing it for the world
Cleaned up, corporation progress

Dying in the process

Children that can talk about it
Living on the railways

People moving sideways


Sell it 'til your last days

Buy yourself the motivation
Generation nothing

Nothing but a dead scene

Product of a white dream

I am not the singer that you wanted but a dancer
I refuse to answer

Talk about the past and rooting for the ones

Who want to get away

Keep running
Sing it for the boys, sing it for the girls

Every time that you lose it, sing it for the world

Sing it from the heart, sing it 'til you're nuts

Sing it out for the ones that'll hate your guts
Sing it for the deaf, sing it for the blind

Sing about everyone that you left behind

Sing it for the world, sing it for the world
We've got to see what tomorrow brings

Sing it for the world, sing it for the world

Yeah, you got to be what tomorrow needs

Sing it for the world, sing it for the world

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Still a T1 Mom, Even Though She Isn't T1 Anymore

I very seldom post on diabetes. It was a thorn in my side for seven years and then took the life of my child. Diabetes can kiss my lily white ass. Right after we lost Sarah, and I mean immediately, as in within and hour and a half, I was flooded with friend requests on Facebook from T1 moms. If you don't know, T1 is an abbreviation for Type 1 Diabetes. For months, I looked at peoples posts in details about their kids sugars in detail. I had to start blocking them. I just couldn't take it anymore. I had a few close friends that I didn't mind hearing about their kids. They were family. It was different. Especially the Boldens and the Emerys.

Until Sarah's visitation, I had never laid eyes on Jennifer Bolden in person. We had communicated strictly through social networking. But, I had grown very close to her. She approached me on Facebook the day that her daughter was diagnosed with T1. When she walked in the room, I nearly tackled her. In hind site, I wish I had know she wasn't a "hugger." I am pretty sure she felt violated after our encounter.She is a new blogger. This is her blog

Amelia Emery was one my best friends from high school and throughout college. We were in each other's weddings. If she wasn't one of those super-mom's that can somehow manage to do nine million things at once. Sometimes I envy her. Then I realize that I can pretty well go to bed whenever I want to, I change my mind. We hardly get to see each other. But, we still love each other anyway. They have two children that are T1. When I was pregnant with Sarah, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes. And, it is exceedingly rare to have 2 kids in one family that are diabetic. Also, the chances of two long time friends both having diabetic kids are low as well.

They were the ones I was worried about the most. The ones that I feared would spend even more of their nights sitting their watching by their children's bedsides to make sure they were still breathing. I have to admit that I still watch Ty and Jerry both when they sleep. Just to be sure.

But, I have digressed. My point in all of this is that we need to have our children screened for diabetes. There are more and more children that have been diagnosed too late.

I am not going to go on here blaming the doctors for not doing their job of protecting our children. I am hear today to say trust your gut. When something is wrong with your child, you know. Get to the doctor. If you think that you might have an issue that isn't being addressed, speak up. Insist on getting it checked out. And, for the love of God and all that is holy, if your doctor says nothing is wrong, it's just a stomach bug, and you know it is more, talk to other moms! Find a T1 friend or family member. Have them check your child's sugar. Strips are about a dollar a piece. You will either get some piece of mind or you will know to get to the hospital immediately. None of this we'll see how the do tonight. GO NOW!!! You can get a cheap meter for around 20 to 25 dollars. I have 2 meters in my home. We are prepared. There have been far too many funerals for T1 kids. I get really tired of seeing blue candles on my Facebook feed. It is hard enough to have one burning in your own home.

So you know what caused up to take Sarah to the doctor when she got her diagnosis. I will quickly share our story. It was the week the kids came back to school from Christmas vacation. She had been getting up to go to bathroom in the middle of the night and not making it. She would get in front of the bathroom door and pee right there. I had called her father on Thursday about 2 to let see if he thought we should get her into the doctor. I had figured that she had a bladder or UT infection. We decided that we would take her the next morning if she had another incident.

That was until her teacher called about twenty minutes later. She had been very tired all week. That day she had fallen asleep in the hall. She was still standing up at the time. I called the doctor and they said get her there NOW. Our doctor was wonderful. He had the nurses call the phlebotomists to come draw blood. It ended up taking 2 nurses, her father and I to hold her down. The doctor did not come back into the room until he had made all of the necessary arrangements at the hospital and had a plan of attack. He was also very good at talking to us without scaring us too much. Her sugar was over 600. Our local endocrinologist (there was only one in town at the time) was out of town and wouldn't be back until Monday. So, we were setting up camp at the hospital in Anson until Dr. White would be back in Abilene. We spent an entire week in the hospital.

These are the things to look for...

And, if this isn't enough of a warning to you to keep an eye on your child's health. Let me share with you part of how I have I spent my last two weeks or so. I have been having flashbacks to that morning. Walking into the emergency room and sitting down only to look up and see a doctor and nurse standing there say, "We tried everything. There was nothing else could do." Then the screaming. I scared my son. I terrified him with gut wrenching, gutteral screams. He ran out of the room. I hadn't seen her. She was at her Dad's when she died. She was in a hospital gown. Cold and still. Blue lips. I wanted nothing more than for her to wake up and hug me and say it would all be ok.

All of the parents that have lost their kid want the same thing. And, some of them might have been saved with a simple finger prick. It can save a life.

A Thought on Fresh Grieving

 I will on occasion post suggestions about how to live with or near people that are grieving. For example, the best thing to bring to a funeral dinner or to a person's house that has just had a death in the family is going to be disposable storage containers and toilet paper. I speak from experience. Today's post is about posting on Facebook when a friends has lost someone very close to them. Like I said, this is based on my experience.

Do not post on their Facebook page or tag them in your post. Posting that they are in need of prayer and warm, peaceful thoughts is OK. And, it's encouraged. It is a wonderful feeling knowing that people are thinking of you. Just remember that their news feed is most likely full of stories about the death. But when your feed is full of posts about losing your loved one, it kinda sucks.

Send them a message. It is more personable. Plus, you can get an address where to send cards, flowers of food. Your Facebook page is a place to see how everyone else is doing. A kind of escape. NOT being reminded that you are missing a loved one. I know that I had to put my charger on my from anywhere from 6 to 10 times the day that I lost Sarah. I could only handle a couple of messages at a time. But, it was warming to feel the love flowing from my friends. Even the ones I never met in person.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Mental Lollygagging

So, today's blog consists of the thoughts that I had at work today. Some of you know that I work for a company that does debt and returned check collections. Yes, people do still write checks. I get to gander at a large variety of demographics. On occasion I will share little bits and pieces of my day. Obviously, I can't share everything I want to. But, here are some "moments" from today.

"I was wondering if you could detain my check until the 1st". -  What I was thinking, "No! We are going to let it run all willy-nilly about the office and leave whenever it wants."

"I'm calling on behalf of my check." - I know that some of the callers have accounts that seem to have a lives of their owns. But, I really don't think that a person can do anything "on behalf" of an inanimate object. 

And, I just love it when a person starts the phone conversation with, "I would like to call about my check." I have yet to respond with, "Well, looks like you accomplished that much already.

"Black Betty" is one of my favorite songs ever! We have the classic rock station as our hold music, and we can listen when not on our phones. I also love "Hush" by Deep Purple.
I think I shall share videos of the songs now. Just a second, I have to run to youtube.

I am rather proud of myself. I haven't done anything in HTML since Myspace.

It is hard to take a legal form set in Comic Sans seriously. Really, it is.

I had a payment come in today in the form of a personal check (which our letters specifically state we do not take.) with a note in the memo line that states "c$%ksuckers". I really want to send it back with a note that states, "If that's what we did, we would charge a lot more than $30."

It's that time of year, the lingering aroma of sweaty man. Eww.

If I let a just a little more paint chip off my nails, I will be able to say they were inspired by "Dexter."

I get tickled everytime I see a check that comes across my desk with a name of a fictional character.