The Disaster That Was 2016

I’m not in a good mood.  This year has sucked rocks.  I won’t go through the myriad of shootings, public riots, celebrity deaths, cop shootings,  “unarmed” shootings, local crime rate, racial tension,   blah, blah, blah.  All that does is make me dislike humans more intensely (and with the racial stuff, it’s usually the arrogant white folks that piss me off the most).   Since my dad died in April of 2016, I have had few interactions that I really cared to be a part of.   They were ‘mandatory’ or required to be just social ‘enough’.   If I tried to escape  I’d turn on the TV  just to hear about how horrifically humans were treating each other, and it just made me grieve for civilization.   Thank God there were enough interactions with a  few people that at least kept my head above water enough to breathe.   I’m very grateful for them.

The presidential election process further lowered my respect for humans in general (a few exceptions helped me not lose all hope).  One relationship ended because of the rabid and incessant postings of negativity about Obama…. get the hell over it- he was elected nearly eight years ago… MOVE ON.  I can’t stand the constant and so ‘wing-nut right’ rants.     I didn’t much like any of the candidates this year, but the options in the end were  almost unbearably bleak… one much more  than the other (imho), and that’s who we’re stuck with now.  It does warm my heart that he didn’t win the popular vote.  There’s a glimmer of sunshine there. Doesn’t matter who specifically won the popular vote, as long as it wasn’t the sociopath.   I’m grateful for that bit of hope.

Back to my dad.   He died on April 4th at 12:50 a.m.  He wasn’t ‘expected’ to die during that period of illness, and like my mom, he had been blown off when he complained about pain/had symptoms.  Don’t go to rehab hospitals where they have such narrow focus.  They try to fit all symptoms into the disorder they are treating.  Dad’s former (very sweet) lady friend of eight years went to the same place, and she called me to ask what she should do since they weren’t dealing with the fluid accumulation in her abdomen (she had cancer).  I told her to ask to go to the ER for an evaluation.  She did, and ended up having to have multiple ‘drainings’ of the fluid. But the facility didn’t come up with the idea to send her in for evaluation on their own- she had to ask.    I wish I’d been more astute with dad’s pain.  He wasn’t great at describing pain, but I feel bad that I didn’t see more.  I am extremely relieved that I was with him during those last 19 hours.  To have missed that would have killed me.  I made sure he knew I wasn’t leaving him before he went into a coma.  I promised not to leave him, and I didn’t .    But as an RN since 1985 (regardless of being disabled, I keep my license), I have constant ‘brain drain’ about what I should have done to help him more.  He was a great dad.  He didn’t deserve that much pain.  He deserved to be listened to and believed by the people who were supposed to be caring for him.

There was another ‘lady friend’ ( “B”) that dad hung out with socially for about a year before he died, and who was around  like flies at a picnic during the last month of his life. She encouraged him to be dependent, and robbed him of whatever independent activities he could do… which weren’t many.   She turned into more of a nightmare after he died.  She obviously had some intense delusions about the type of relationship she had with dad.  Dad truly  liked the companionship (and her billionaire son in law fascinated him- only thing he mentioned if someone asked if he was seeing someone- never mentioned her by name).  She liked “possession” of him (and had a total hissy fit when I told another one of dad’s lady friends she could put photos on the photo table at the visitation; it was a pathological reaction- they were. not. married.  I included as many of his special lady friends as I could find photos of) .  She also hurt me intensely after the funeral, complaining that she wasn’t mentioned by name ‘enough’ during HIS funeral.  She said her church friends all noticed it and that the pastor who did the service had it in for her since she wasn’t a member of dad’s church… that pastor hadn’t even worked at that church for a while… “B” was clueless and so friggin’ insecure and paranoid.  She wanted to know why I hadn’t consulted her about financial matters (like it’s her business- she was fishing for info, imho).  She also told me (dad’s daughter) that SHE would miss dad the most.  Seriously?   He was my DAD.   She was a 1.2% part of his life. That’s it.  Barely existed (would you miss 1.2 cents from a buck?)  She told me that dad didn’t like the one  lady friend (with photos, who he’d known since high school), and I knew that wasn’t true.  That’s when I started to see “B”  more clearly.  She fabricated things to make her feel like his lifelong love… well, she missed that train when mom married him, and then the wonderful lady he saw for eight years after mom died.  I’d lost my dad, and she was ragging on about all sorts of stuff.  Sure, I knew she’d miss him.  But her degree of histrionics was exhausting and painful.  “B” was creepy- saying that she saw him looking back at her when she put his glasses on her kitchen table (she had a mild conniption at the visitation about when dad’s glasses were going to be taken off… I told her to take them just to shut her up).  I do hope she’s well ( and well away from me).  I pray that her macular degeneration is stable, and not getting worse.  And I want nothing to do with her.  I had to have the garage door opener codes changed because she refused to give me back the one she was last known to have.  I added keyless deadbolts.   When I think of her now, I wonder about her DSM-V diagnoses.   And I still wish her well.

I’ve been contacted via greeting cards by two of my deceased mom’s siblings who made sure I was excluded as ‘family’ while they manipulated and dismantled my late grandmother’s trust (grandma was spineless when it came to standing up for what was fair… she got bullied and she folded) . It was mangled after my mom died, and the surviving siblings kept ensuring they profited off of their dead siblings each time one of them died.   Once someone writes me off, it’s over.   I don’t want to  be reminded of their existence with hypocritical cards.   Either I’m part of the family, or not.  Can’t have both.  They deleted me based on lies they KNEW were lies.  That’s what gets me the most.  Screw the money.  I’d settle for truth – but that bunch is incapable.  Leifheit Logic in that generation has been sketchy at best for decades.    My mom was in that generation, and her biggest ‘flaw’ in regards to logic was keeping her marriage vows and having strong faith… maybe they resented her for that… ?  .    Hard to tell with narcissists. I do know that I want nothing to do with them.   They ‘cancelled’ my family ‘membership’ – and that’s just fine.  But be done with it already.   GO AWAY, even via mail.   I am thankful that the six cousins I have from the other ‘discarded’ sibling understand that we’re worth nothing to the greed-mongers.  I didn’t even tell mom’s surviving siblings  when dad died; they found out on Facebook…  never occurred to me to consider them part of the family to notify.  They dumped me about 5 months earlier.  It wasn’t even an issue in my mind/life.

I’m going in to 2017 with a questionable mass on my neck.  I have a CT scan scheduled for a week from tomorrow.  The hope is that it’s just a lipoma (nothing major), but with my crazy medical history, including a LOT of chemo for leukemia, there is always a  question about more cancer.  Chemo can cause cancer (isn’t that special?) .    It has no doubt contributed to the increase in peripheral neuropathy (including the dysautonomia/POTS).  But without it, I would have been dead in 2010.  Pain is more intense now, including the degenerative disc and joint disease.   I see a new chiropractor next week to hopefully put my neck ‘back in place’.  But, I’m alive.  That is still worth it.

I know I have a lot to be thankful for.  That isn’t lost on me by a long shot.  But like anybody I still have my bad days, and today is a really lousy one.   Next year, I MUST lose weight.  I need to do all I can to avoid future joint replacements and minimize joint and disc pain.   I have to get more focused on keeping track of carbohydrates and insulin requirements.   Right now, my blood sugars are very unstable.  Stress isn’t helping that.   But I’ve got my dog.  She is always happy to be around me, and I’m so thankful for her.

Mostly, I’m thankful for God.  That is my ‘Constant’ and my Hope.  I don’t generally find organized religion to be satisfying, but I do love the Lord.  Call it what you want if you don’t believe… for me , my faith is the only thing that keeps me going.   I know that this life is temporary, and that after this earth, it’s all good.   I don’t like the politics of Christians.   I aim to be more compassionate than the judging and ‘dismissing’ of entire groups of people – and I’m not unaware that my feelings about that are also judging and dismissing (I’m working on that).  And, I still love God more than any human I’ve ever met.  Fortunately, I had a  great earthly father to show me a small example of what a Heavenly Father feels for His children.   When this earth and its people depress me, I remember God.  He has this all in control.   I don’t have to worry about any of the mess going on… in the end, good wins.   I don’t have to worry about what others do, or use them as political pawns.  I only answer for what I do.  When there’s nobody to talk to, God is always there.   No matter what, God is my refuge and joy.  He is what makes tolerating this earth bearable.   I know it’s all going to be OK one day.  Maybe not soon, or maybe tomorrow. It doesn’t matter when.    He wins every time.    And I know that HE  alone can help me see things in a way that is less painful.  HE can remind me of the good that is already here.   I don’t think I’d be able to function if I didn’t have that hope and assurance.

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If I Could…

...I would fix everything, and walk you back to your normal life.  I would take the pain and nausea and put it in a box,  and throw them  into a volcano, permanently removed.  I’d take the fear and confusion, and surround you with nothing but gentle hugs, a warm blanket, and a feeling of safety.  I’d take the frustration and slap it upside the head, and then help you find something to make it all right.  I’d look for something silly to show you how you can still smile, and how you really are still you in the middle of all of the chaos. (You really do have a great smile and laugh).   I’d take away that feeling like you’re dying, and remind you that this is all temporary, and that you are the best candidate to survive all of this.  Cancer doesn’t define you; it shows how strong you are.  And you really are.  But you are not cancer.  You are so much more.

If I could, I’d figure out some way for you to know what is and isn’t normal in an abnormal situation you’ve never been exposed to.  I’d give you all of the information you need to understand what is happening (that I know of), so you know that you have  a solid chance at beating this.  You’re strong, and you dwell in the positive when you’re you, in your normal life.  I wonder if some of the pain is the grief of the life you’ve had to set aside for a while.  I wonder if anybody has sat down and taken your hand and told you that it’s more than OK to feel that this level of vulnerability is terrifying, and affirm that  it’s not going to last forever.  And being terrified, and grieving isn’t going to change who you are. It will create another depth of character you didn’t know you had.  I wish you never had to deal with all of this- but you will come out stronger.

I’d look you square in the face, and tell you that the drowsy feeling with pain meds is normal, and often gets better as your body adjusts to both the pain relief and the medication in your system.  I’d let you know that you’re not going crazy. But I understand how it can feel that way (people who are truly going nuts don’t worry about it  🙂 ). Any bonafide goofy person I worked with  wasn’t concerned in the least.

If I could, I’d stand on my head if I thought it would make you well (and if you can get a visual of me on my head, well…. that should be worth a giggle. I’d probably pass out half way up, and then what?  A  ‘fluffy’ middle aged door stop).  But I’d do it if it meant you’d feel better ❤

You have an amazing support system with your friends/coworkers/family.  It awes me that one person has so many people around for support.   They will help you heal as I’m sure they already have.  Just one more minute of pain, just one more hour of uncertainty, just one more day of STILL being here and fighting this beast that has turned your world upside-down.  Take it in small increments. You’re stronger than a beast who was only brave enough to go in the back door !  You have a life that is waiting for you to get through this.  And that will happen. I wish I could make the journey easier, and speed up the process, but one thing about cancer- you want the treatment that gives you the best longterm odds.  Keep thinking about how mad the beast must be !  😀

You are already a survivor, did you know that?  Seriously, they consider anybody who gets diagnosed to be a survivor- unless you die of shock when you get the diagnosis and fall over stone-cold on the floor.  But you got through that  and stayed conscious !  So, you are surviving.  There’s some work to do on the ‘thriving’ end of things, but you can’t get there all at once.  Chemo is a direct assault on your entire body just to kill the beast.  And, from what I hear, it’s helping. 🙂   You. Are. Winning.

Feeling like you’re never going to get through this is pretty normal.  There is nothing like chemo that I can think of in 30 years of nursing that compares. ( nursing school -2 yrs , working as an RN -20 yrs , and the last 8+ as a patient on disability -I still keep my license to keep my own butt going).  I’ve had a lot of medical stuff, over decades.  And chemo is the hands-down winner for “WTH just happened to me?”.  😮   There are no clear ways to explain how it’s going to feel (and it’s different for everyone).  But,’ lousy’ would be a vast improvement much of the time.  And you can get through this.  Your body can handle this treatment.  You will feel better.

In the meantime, look out of the window (or find one that has a view), and just look at  the trees and birds, the clouds and sky, the people walking around, and the ones taking care of you.  Watch something goofy on TV (I lived on ‘Funniest Home Videos during the first 6 weeks of being in isolation for the leukemia- and I’m sure the nurses thought I was a bit ‘touched’ when howls of laughter would come out of my room).  Find things that make you happy in the moment.  No need to be elaborate- just what makes you happy right. This. Second.  Tomorrow will take care of itself.  Yesterday is gone (though those were some great GF almond cookies Carol made last Christmas Eve !!).

Take a deep breath- and remember you’re still here right now.  And you’ll have the last laugh in the end.  But until then, feel free to cry, grieve, be depressed, miss being at work (that was a really hard one when I ended up on disability- it’s not like retiring when you PLAN on not working, but it’s like it’s TAKEN from you by some rude disease), laugh at silly stuff, and  deal with whatever else is going on.  There are no wrong ways to do this- other than to just get through it.  And it’s all temporary.   Overwhelming, but temporary.

You can do this, dear cousin.  I’m in your corner %110.   And I know there are so many who are there in person and spirit that wish nothing but the best for you. You are loved.  ❤