Flames

I read an article some time ago about the dangers of contacting an ex. It's so easy to do in today's connected world. I "googled" my Ex and found him in 0.32 seconds (per Google's calculations). We e-mailed, chatted on the phone and met again in person. We had many conversations about times past, and events that had transpired in the 7 years we had been out of touch. It was a great walk down memory lane and my heart lept at times. We did the "what if's" and the "did you ever think of me's" and the, "hmmm, should we go there again's", and I saw the danger.

But I have to say, spending time with the Ex made me realize how lucky I am to have who I have now. I like who I am now. I am me, with my husband. I was someone different entirely around the Ex. I said what he wanted me to say, acted how he wanted me to act, cow-towed to his every expectation. Ick.

With Hubby, I am me; a strong, opinionated woman who likes herself, who is true to the person she was raised to be.

The Ex has been and seen and done things I would have loved to have experienced. Hubby and I have been less able to do these things for monetary, health and other practical reasons, but I wouldn't trade a minute with Hubby for the world.

Hubby likes people. He is empathetic and cares for others. The Ex thinks of himself first and all others after if, and only if, it works out ok in his world.

Hubby takes care of me, and I take care of him. The Ex is very self centered. Hubby is a part of the world as a whole, The Ex it the world in its entirety (in his mind).

Ladies, find that old flame, but be careful not to get burned. You will be playing with fire, but in my experience, dowsing that flame allowed me to see my world so much more brightly. I have the most amazing man in my life and no other, even the idealized Ex, could make me happier.

The new matriach

2nd night in a row, and I can't sleep. This is how this blogging thing started for me, so while I'm waiting for my sleep aid to kick in, I'll work further on the last 6 weeks.

I have become the eldest female in my family. The only female.

My grandmother died July 1, 2006.

She was in hospice, she had cancer. We knew this was coming, but not this quickly. It was a blessing really. She was home, in her own environment. She was alone, which is not the most comforting thought for me, but she was able to be alone, which is comforting. She went out like Elvis, on the throne. This would mortify her. If she knew that everyone knew that she died while sitting on the crapper... oh lord.

My realtionship with my grandmother was interesting on a good day, horrible on a bad day, and lately there were more bad days then good. She was mentally unstable and oddly again, that gives me comfort.

On the good days she would send me emails telling me she was proud of me; proud of my becoming a nurse. She would shower me with expensive gifts befitting a queen and words of praise that meant more to me than the gifts. On the bad days she would call me lair, and demand that my mother's love for her was greater than my mother's love for me. Simple words can hurt so much.

I went to Florida to help my uncle and brother get her affairs in order. We are all that's left of her family now. We found documents and pictures that made us smile. We found shopping lists from 1968, ration books from the war, newspaper articles from the 80's on the evils of the entire Bush clan. If you had a greesy cat, she had an article cut out for you on what to feed it to keep if from being so greesy (really) and she had 93 boxes of jello.

We packed up all the food items that were unopened and took them to a local food pantry. They were so excited and happy to have the donations. People don't give as much in the warm months in Florida, as so many of the snow birds are in their northern habitats.

We found birth and death records going back to my great great grandparents, immigration papers, baptismal records, divorce decrees (which shocked us all). Found a newspaper clipping from my mother's engagement to someone other than my father. That sparked an interesting dinner conversation with my uncle, and showed me my mom's first real broken heart.

Pictures, pictures, pictures of trips to England, Belgium, Canada, Mexico, cruises, and just shenanigans around the trailer park where they lived. Pictures of people I can not name, and will never be able to name as that information went to the grave with her.

I got to see my 1,000 cranes again. She had them proudly displayed in her dining room. The sample papers were in the bedroom and she had asked the hospice nurse to help her fold one. The folks at hospice told me how much she loved me, and how fondly she talked of me. That was odd. Who was this woman they had met and cared for? She hadn't said a kind thing about me to anyone else for over a year.

Her death could have been a long protracted time of illness, but instead, she went on the can. Quick and common, one grunt and it's over.

My feelings were (and are) all over the map. My grandmother passed on. I feel sorrow, but she has been dead to me for years really. Anytime I would open myself to her, she would treat me kindly for a few months, then slam me down again, and hurt me all over. No one could ever tell me why, and like those nameless photos, I'll never know, she took that infomation to the grave.

And from the grave, she slammed the door in my face one final time. The will she and my grandfather drafted in October 2001, after my mom's passing, but before my grandfather's passing read... "We selectively and intentionally make no provision for the lineal descendents of our deceased daughter..." Ouch again. Not only did she write my brother and I out of the will (the only grandchildren) she wrote our children off as well. A slap from the beyond.

It's not the money. All I ever wanted from this woman was love. I loved her. I told her this every time we communicated. She never returned it.

Reverend Anderson said some beautiful things at her funeral, things I am trying to do. He told us to remember the good times, and not the hurtful things we mortals say to each other. Let those words go, and keep the memories alive that bring joy to our heart. So, here is my attempt.

I remember rootbeer floats served in flower pots.
I remember her letting me plant corn in my grandfather's flower bed.
I remember toys under the kitchen sink. No chemicals here, just toys for her grandkids.
I remember being covered up with a "kiki" when we'd snooze on the "davenport."
I remember an inexhaustive supply of spearmint leaves.
I remember making Christmas cookies with her and my mom.
I remember politically incorrect jokes told in all innocence to a Czechoslovakian waiter.
I remember her playing The Entertainer on the organ.
I remember sleeping in "The Blue Room" and feeling like a princess.
Most of all I remember her laugh. So child like and free. A giggle really. I'll miss that.

Dorothy, your pain is over, you are free of this earthly shell.

Perhaps too, my pain can begin to heal.

B9, it's not just a bingo call anymore

I know I have a history. A genetic history. I think about it daily, saddly, and I know I have to take action to be responsible to my family and friends, and to myself.

I am losing weight, that helps. I have yearly checks and mamograms. I am having all unnecessary girlie parts taken to the cleaners and have investigated natural alternatives to HRT. I do all this so I can be here for those I love, and I do all this for me.

When I had my mamogram this year, I thought nothing of it. A little squeeze in their machine, and it's all over. Whew, done for another year. Then they called. "We want to get another picture. There is a density we want to evaluate. Could just be tissue piled up on itself. Don't worry, but come in tomorrow." Ok, I think. No sweat.

They take the pictures, this time a bit tighter, a bit squishier, and the wait.
"Well, we'd like to send you for an ultrasound."
When?
"Right now."
Um, ok.

Now I wait with nerves on fire. I need the results. Mom had breast cancer at 41, Grandma was older, but still, strike 2 on the old familial genetic tree. My 2nd cousin, Terry, died at 29 from metastatic breast cancer. ::gulp:: (she was so vain that she would not have surgery to remove the cancer because without a breast she felt she would not be a woman. She left behind 2 children under the age of 10. So sad.) I call my Doctor's office. I have connections there. The official reports reads...

"2cm x 1cm density in the right breast. Due to extensive family history, surgical biopsy is recommended to exclude the low likelyhood of a neoplasm."

That's it in a nutshell.

Low Likelyhood

I can breath again. Thank god, because now, just hours after I get this report of cautiously optomistic news, I find out my grandmother has passed on in Florida, and I need to concentrate my efforts on other matters.

To Florida, then Wisconsin, then home. I make an appointment with the local surgeon and they get me in right away. I was able to stop thinking about it while the chaos of my travels was occuring, now that I have a surgery date, I get nervous. Ah well.

My Doc doesn't do needle biopsies and for that I am glad. She does a total lumpectomy. Saves you the hassle of looking at the same spot year after year. And as I remember my father saying so eloquently once about my mother's cancer, "Can't we just take it all? I'm a woodworker, and if there is a knot in a board, I cut it out." Yep, we cut out the knot in this plank.

The worst part of the whole surgery thing was the IV. I have crappy veins. The needle isolation, piece of cake. The anestetic, well, lets say the surgery staff thought it was grand. They put me out while they numbed the area then they let me wake up (my wish, by the way). Versed is the drug of choice and it is an amnesiac. I had them giggling in the OR when I asked for the 5th time, "So, when will I get the pathology report?" and for the 6th time, "Hey, what was that stuff you gave me?" meaning the anestetic. I guess I liked it.

I asked the Doc once more in recovery when I would hear about the pathology report, and she told me Thursday or Friday. She said she would call if it was cancerous, but her office staff would call if everythingwas ok. Hmmm.

Left the hospital on Tuesday afternoon, had dinner with my father, brother, husband, son and niece, then home to sleep. Back to work the next day.

As I was getting ready for work, the phone rang. Paul brought me the phone... "Doctor's office" ::gulp::
"Hi this is Dr. ____ nurse."
Yeah!!!
"I'm calling with your pathology report. Everything was ok. It is benign."

B9
Not just for bingo anymore.

So, now I'm bruised, and have what hubby affectionately called "the amazing technicolor boob" but I am relieved. I have done my duty to my family and myself. I have these mamograms to look for this crap, so I can get it taken care of at the soonest opportunity. It's still scary as hell, but I made it through round 1, and can face round 2 if that time ever occurs.

I'm Baaaaack

A dear friend gently reminded me that I should be blogging. Life has been extremely hectic, and she's right. So, here I go.

Not sure where to begin but with a synopsis of the last 6 weeks or so.

Had my mamogram
Got called in for more pictures and an ultrasound
Friday July 1, found out I needed a biopsy at 17:20
Same day, found out my grandmother died in Florida at 20:30
Friends moved away :(
Flew to Floriday Sunday July 3
Funeral Tuesday July 5
Back to Detroit Thursday July 7
Drive to Chicago Sunday July 10
To Wisconsin for F/U appt at UW for Paul
Home and to work
Lumpectomy Aug 2
Good results August 3

Hmmm, been busy.

I will blog these items seperately over the days to come.

actually, I'll start now...