I can't show you the baby blanket, because it's a gift, and I want it to be, mostly a surprise for the mom. But it's coming along! I have actually finished the knitting, after like 10-12 days of straight knitting. We're talking 40+ hours of knitting my fingers off.
Much to my dismay, when I finally got it off my needles... it wasn't square. I did the add two stitches every other row, like the instructions I found for corners told me to.. I'm thinking it might have been better to add two stitches every row... But once I was done, there is no way in hell I was ripping out 40 hours of work!!
So. Acylic..... You can't really block it. Not the traditional way, washing and pinning, it will just jump back to it's pre-washing state. And besides, baby blanket, it's going to get washed, and mom is not about to block the dang thing.
SO! I 'killed' the two bottom boarders. Killing, really isn't as bad as it sounds, you just have to be careful! For instance, leave garter stitch alone as much as you can, as you will flatten it, and it will look...not great. The flat patterned parts stretched really well, overall, and it flattened out the elephants and loins really well, so yay! I did accidentally catch part of a garter stitch ridge in a few places, but I didn't flatten it too too badly.
This entire blanket had been a lesson in imperfection for me. I'm a perfectionist. I can't seem to help myself. But, in making this blanket, I've learned to weigh 'time to fix' vs 'who other than me will notice'. As a result, I've left a few errors that I didn't think were super obvious, left some things alone or did them quickly, when I otherwise would have spent hours upon hours trying to fix.
In the end, the blanket is lovely, and once I get the dang backing on it, will be a lovely edition to a baby's life; imperfections and all. It has character damnit.
On another note, sitting for like 12-16 hours a day knitting, is actually really hard on my body, and I've been crazy stiff and sore for the last two weeks. This week I've also been battling crazy nausea. I've been eating lots of candied ginger, which usually helps, with no avail. I've been fighting with all I have to do what little I've done.
Monday I worked for about five hours straight on the backing and trying to pin it to the knitted blanket. This was before I blocked the blanket. What a mess. And I messed up cutting the backing and ended up making a lot of work for myself. Oh well, that's life.
Made for a very frustrating day. So much work, with so little to show for it. All the while battling enough pain to make me dizzy when I moved too quickly. Fuck it was a hard day.
Yesterday was better. If for no other reason my class distracted me from my pain. But as soon as I left I realised my jaw was in grave pain - I'd been clenching my teeth to combat the pain. I even went to the grocery store. But I didn't have the energy to work on my blanket last night. Every time I moved I was overcome with nausea, and had to sit my fat ass down again.
That's been today. Pain and nausea warring for control over me. Right now the pain is winning and the nausea is more in the background. Which means, I've been able to at least iron down the edges of the backing, which will make it much easier to sew when I get there.
Feeling sorry for myself. Or.. Well... Disappointed in myself is more accurate. I fate being this size. I really do. If I think too hard on it, I get a panic attack. And yet I can't seem to control myself. I have no discipline. I can't resist chocolate, or.... giving in when I'm having a bad day. It's so bloody hard. Food has become my comfort, my balm when I'm in pain. And I don't know how to control it, never mind fix it.
I think about women like Laurell K Hamilton. She's been writing since her early twenties I think. She wanted to be a writer, and by gods, she has worked her ass off to get there, regardless of having a day job, a husband, a failing marriage, a baby, or anything else that's been thrown at her. Still she finds time to write. Still she finds her muse, and fights for what she wants. Even if I'm not the biggest fan of everything she's written her drive is awe inspiring.
I don't have that. I know I don't. I always have an excuse for everything. The only thing I've ever been able to ALWAYS make time for is knitting. I would likely knit in my sleep, if I could figure out a way to do it. I love to knit. It's to the point I just can't sit and watch a movie or tv. I can't. Not without something in my hands, not without some kind of knitting.
But I'm not The Yarn Harlot either. I'm not funny. I can't tell stories about knitting. I so can't write that sort of thing... it's not in my make-up. Besides, my knitting isn't pretty - the process that is. There's a lot of planning, math, calculator and pencil, graph paper, humming and hawing, and through, always the cursing. I curse like a sailor. If I drop a stitch (rare), or mess up a row (not so rare), or if I don't like the pattern I've chosen (often), or if I'm doing the math, and have to figure out increases and decreases, I curse. My husband is used to me muttering and cursing as I work. He worries more when I'm quiet. lol.
And now, I've used all the energy I had. The pain is taking over my brain, and I can't put the words together to say what I wanted to say. Damnit.
Living like this is really lonely. I mean, aside from the reality that I spend most of my days alone, and my nights across the room from my husband, not really conversing.... It's the knowledge that 99% of the people I know, don't have a fucking clue how hard my life is. I know in so many ways I'm lucky. Things really could be a lot worse. At the same time, my life sure as fuck isn't all sunshine and roses.
The pain eats at me. The nausea binds me to the spot. The stiffness makes me feel like I'm 100 years old. I visit my parents, who are really my grandparents both around80-ish, and both of them are more spry than I am. Both of them do more, are more ambitious, than I've been in a long ass time. I wish I was more like them. They can't sit still, they can't do nothing. The push. They do. They have gumption, drive, follow-through.
I've always been naturally lazy. I actually do like, for the most part, sitting and watching a good movie, or reading a good book. I like sleeping in. I like slow, lazy days.
My fibromyalgia forces me to take it slow, to sit around and do fuck all. And I hate it. Yet I rarely push past the pain. Most days, the pain wins. I crumble.
I feel so fucking weak. Touch my shoulders and hips, even lightly in certain spots and I'll scream in pain. I ache, all the way through me, and there isn't a fucking thing wrong with me. It's all in my head. Literally. Fucking FMS.
I.... Ugh. I feel like, if it was my mom who had this, she'd push. Even at 78, she'd push and do and be active, and live her life. She's lived with pain all her life too. But unlike me, she almost never complains, and very rarely ever lets it slow her down. I wish I could be like that. I wish I knew her secret. I just don't have that in me.
I'm disgusted with myself. On so many levels. Disease or not, I'm a disappointment. So many others have what I have, and yet they work full time jobs, they have kids, husbands, houses to clean, and they do it all. Somehow, the do it all. Me, I just.. I don't have that in me.
I wish I had that strength of character. I wish I had discipline and control. I don't. No matter how I try... I'm just... I'm not that kind of person. Ugh.
I don't.. I don't know how to fix this. I try. Gods know I try. But I just don't seem to have it in me. Makes me...disgusted with myself. I'll never be strong enough.
Showing posts with label mushy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mushy. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
Queen
Having a Queen fest with youtube. Suddenly Somebody to Love popped into my head, and I just had to hear it again.
I find it painfully ironic that I didn't know who Queen was when Freddie died. In my defence I was 13 at the time. I distinctly remember hearing them announce it on MuchMusic.... Because I had no idea who Queen or Freddie Mercury was, or why it was such a big deal he was gay. I've never understood that particular prejudice.
It was only after Freddie's death, with all the media focus on Queen, that I 'discovered' them, and in turn found Rock N Roll.
Queen changed my life. I'm sure that sounds melodramatic, but it's true; I just can't imagine what my life would be like without them, without rock and roll.
I've always been a music lover, I get it from my mom. Before poetry, I had music. Such a powerful thing, to have someone speak to, speak for your heart and soul. Queen, did that for me, still does (as do many other men and women with guitars and attitude). They... they spoke to me, they soothed, they raged, they prayed, sorrowed, exalted with me.They made my passage from childhood to adult, fuller, easier, they helped make me the woman I am. And I don't think I've done too badly for myself. ;)
Also, while I'm being a sap, I gotta say, I cannot be happier to have the particular prayer of this ^^ song answered. Having somebody to love, I never thought I'd get it. All through my youth, it was my deepest wish, but the one I was most certain I would never have granted. Now, now my life is so much fuller of love, because I can see the love that's always been there in my family, and now my husband and his family. So much love spread around. But gods, I'm a lucky woman to have a man who loves me so very much!
Okay, no more sappy time. Time to knit! I've got lions to make! :D
I find it painfully ironic that I didn't know who Queen was when Freddie died. In my defence I was 13 at the time. I distinctly remember hearing them announce it on MuchMusic.... Because I had no idea who Queen or Freddie Mercury was, or why it was such a big deal he was gay. I've never understood that particular prejudice.
It was only after Freddie's death, with all the media focus on Queen, that I 'discovered' them, and in turn found Rock N Roll.
Queen changed my life. I'm sure that sounds melodramatic, but it's true; I just can't imagine what my life would be like without them, without rock and roll.
I've always been a music lover, I get it from my mom. Before poetry, I had music. Such a powerful thing, to have someone speak to, speak for your heart and soul. Queen, did that for me, still does (as do many other men and women with guitars and attitude). They... they spoke to me, they soothed, they raged, they prayed, sorrowed, exalted with me.They made my passage from childhood to adult, fuller, easier, they helped make me the woman I am. And I don't think I've done too badly for myself. ;)
Also, while I'm being a sap, I gotta say, I cannot be happier to have the particular prayer of this ^^ song answered. Having somebody to love, I never thought I'd get it. All through my youth, it was my deepest wish, but the one I was most certain I would never have granted. Now, now my life is so much fuller of love, because I can see the love that's always been there in my family, and now my husband and his family. So much love spread around. But gods, I'm a lucky woman to have a man who loves me so very much!
Okay, no more sappy time. Time to knit! I've got lions to make! :D
Monday, December 5, 2011
Today is a Better Day
Its been a long time coming, but today is a better day.
I slept in, 'cause I needed it. I had rice krispies and bananas for brunch. I talked to my mom for a long time. She let me vent, bless her. And we talked about how she's doing too! It was a good talk. I felt a lot better about things when I got off the phone with her.
I made carrot muffins and curry lentil soup. This took more effort and time than I thought, but so worth it. And I did oh, three sink/racks of dishes. Baking takes a lot of dishes! And cleaning up directly after makes the clean up so much easier. Batter dried to a bowl is a bitch!
I even showered! No really, this is a victory. I thought I'd be too spent, but I managed easily. I just took breaks. And didn't push. Well, I mean, making the muffins and soup was a push on it's own. I felt exhausted when I started. But I needed to do something useful. I feel better when I'm useful.
I always remember when I'm out of the hole, that there is an out, that the darkness isn't all consuming. That I will find hope again. It's just so damn hard to believe that when depression has you in it's claws. I feel like I need to leave my future self a note, to remind me, that no matter how dark it gets, it will get better, it will be light again, and I will see that I am lucky, I'm loved and supported by the ones I love; it could be so much worse. I'm not alone.
Depression is a battle. Living, surviving chronic pain is a battle. Fibromyalgia is a battle. I get overwhelmed, who wouldn't? But I'm fighting. And I'll continue to fight. Even when I don't want to fight anymore, when I'm done, I can't stop fighting, cause it's not just me in this. I've always said I'd walk through hell for my mom, and now, for my husband, for them, I walk through hell. It's for them that I keep fighting, even when I think I'm not. I'm here, and some days, that's enough, that is a victory. Because tomorrow, gods help me, tomorrow is a new day.
The sun will come out tomorrow!
Sorry, couldn't help myself. But you know, it's true. You just have to survive the night, because Ra, Ra will always come.
I'm sore. I ache, but it's not all over. I won back bits of myself. I'm tired, but somehow less tired than I felt on getting up. But best of all, I accomplished something. I beat this bout of depression, and I made yummy foods. Today, I win.
I slept in, 'cause I needed it. I had rice krispies and bananas for brunch. I talked to my mom for a long time. She let me vent, bless her. And we talked about how she's doing too! It was a good talk. I felt a lot better about things when I got off the phone with her.
I made carrot muffins and curry lentil soup. This took more effort and time than I thought, but so worth it. And I did oh, three sink/racks of dishes. Baking takes a lot of dishes! And cleaning up directly after makes the clean up so much easier. Batter dried to a bowl is a bitch!
I even showered! No really, this is a victory. I thought I'd be too spent, but I managed easily. I just took breaks. And didn't push. Well, I mean, making the muffins and soup was a push on it's own. I felt exhausted when I started. But I needed to do something useful. I feel better when I'm useful.
I always remember when I'm out of the hole, that there is an out, that the darkness isn't all consuming. That I will find hope again. It's just so damn hard to believe that when depression has you in it's claws. I feel like I need to leave my future self a note, to remind me, that no matter how dark it gets, it will get better, it will be light again, and I will see that I am lucky, I'm loved and supported by the ones I love; it could be so much worse. I'm not alone.
Depression is a battle. Living, surviving chronic pain is a battle. Fibromyalgia is a battle. I get overwhelmed, who wouldn't? But I'm fighting. And I'll continue to fight. Even when I don't want to fight anymore, when I'm done, I can't stop fighting, cause it's not just me in this. I've always said I'd walk through hell for my mom, and now, for my husband, for them, I walk through hell. It's for them that I keep fighting, even when I think I'm not. I'm here, and some days, that's enough, that is a victory. Because tomorrow, gods help me, tomorrow is a new day.
The sun will come out tomorrow!
Sorry, couldn't help myself. But you know, it's true. You just have to survive the night, because Ra, Ra will always come.
I'm sore. I ache, but it's not all over. I won back bits of myself. I'm tired, but somehow less tired than I felt on getting up. But best of all, I accomplished something. I beat this bout of depression, and I made yummy foods. Today, I win.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Wanted:
One Best Friend
For shenanigans, long rambling talks, silly stupid adventures, epic cooking afternoons, heart to wounded-heart confessions, long midnight drives to nowhere (optional).
Must enjoy: joyfully watching children's movies - without children; lazy afternoons at the beach baking in the sun, and swimming until your arms give out; singing GBS (or similar) at the top of your lungs.
Must be flexible/open-minded enough to accept chronically ill, disabled woman as friend.
Kindred Spirits only need apply.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
I did it
Did what, you (my fictitious audience) ask? I finally went to the gym. It's been forever. No literally. Like since before the wedding. For the most part, I honestly haven't felt well enough often. And when I DID feel well enough, I used that energy to get groceries, and make soup, or bread or what-have-you.
Today, instead of getting groceries, I went to the gym. I actually managed 30 minutes on the elliptical! For me, that's EPIC. Hell, I didn't think I was going to make it to the first five, never mind thirty. Yay me! And the gym wasn't scary or busy or anything (why I think the gym is scary I do not know, likely anxiety disorder). Everyone there is really nice, which always makes me feel more guilty for not going more often. Does that even make sense? Who knows.
Now I'm exhausted, and really need a nap. I've been up since 5:15am. I laid awake until 6am, then just got up. So it's already been a long day for me. Yesterday felt unbearably long. I have a feeling today and tomorrow will too.
I'm rather looking forward to Tuesday. It's class day, and then I'm going to go visit my parents. I think I might end up staying a few days. I don't see them enough, and I miss them. It's not like Chris will miss me, one way or the other, so why not. I don't get out much, socially. Hell, I don't really have any friends, and the last time I saw any of my acquaintances was three weeks ago now, when everyone lied and said they'd stop by that Saturday... Anyway, my point is, my parents, my mom especially, are some of the very few people I actually talk to. And I need some socialization in the worst way. One thing that truly sucks though, is I so CANNOT talk to my mom about what's really bothering me. I don't have anyone to talk to, and it's killing me, slowly. I was going to make up some emo analogy, but fuck it, it just hurts, and scares me, and makes me long for something I'll just never have again.
I was thinking of going to the Haikim Optical near-ish my doctor's office (allergy needle time) while I was in town, to see what it might cost me for 1 or 2 pairs of glasses, but the sad/scary truth is we just can't afford them. I feel truly stupid for wasting the money getting my eyes tested. My eyes have been bothering me, headaches reading, trouble with distance vision, so I got my eyes tested, not realizing we were so tight for cash I'd never be able to actually use the Rx. *sigh*
Today, instead of getting groceries, I went to the gym. I actually managed 30 minutes on the elliptical! For me, that's EPIC. Hell, I didn't think I was going to make it to the first five, never mind thirty. Yay me! And the gym wasn't scary or busy or anything (why I think the gym is scary I do not know, likely anxiety disorder). Everyone there is really nice, which always makes me feel more guilty for not going more often. Does that even make sense? Who knows.
Now I'm exhausted, and really need a nap. I've been up since 5:15am. I laid awake until 6am, then just got up. So it's already been a long day for me. Yesterday felt unbearably long. I have a feeling today and tomorrow will too.
I'm rather looking forward to Tuesday. It's class day, and then I'm going to go visit my parents. I think I might end up staying a few days. I don't see them enough, and I miss them. It's not like Chris will miss me, one way or the other, so why not. I don't get out much, socially. Hell, I don't really have any friends, and the last time I saw any of my acquaintances was three weeks ago now, when everyone lied and said they'd stop by that Saturday... Anyway, my point is, my parents, my mom especially, are some of the very few people I actually talk to. And I need some socialization in the worst way. One thing that truly sucks though, is I so CANNOT talk to my mom about what's really bothering me. I don't have anyone to talk to, and it's killing me, slowly. I was going to make up some emo analogy, but fuck it, it just hurts, and scares me, and makes me long for something I'll just never have again.
I was thinking of going to the Haikim Optical near-ish my doctor's office (allergy needle time) while I was in town, to see what it might cost me for 1 or 2 pairs of glasses, but the sad/scary truth is we just can't afford them. I feel truly stupid for wasting the money getting my eyes tested. My eyes have been bothering me, headaches reading, trouble with distance vision, so I got my eyes tested, not realizing we were so tight for cash I'd never be able to actually use the Rx. *sigh*
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Sadness, and a Fridge full of food.
So we tried to have a housewarming/bday party for my husband today. It was a fantastic failure. We gave everyone two months notice. Invited just about everyone we knew in Toronto, many people that before today I would have called friends, but they aren't really, they're just acquaintances for the most part.
So can you guess how many showed up? Yup. That's right. Zero. At least a couple of them had understandable excuses. But when no one shows up.... Yeah, that's no coincidence. This is me, never throwing another party again.
On the bright side, at least 90% of the perishable food in our fridge is healthy! Lots of veggies, and fresh salsa, and cheese. Mmm, cheese.
The day wasn't wasted though. I vacuumed and washed the floors, and made raisin bread. All before 1pm! I even go to finish the dirty book I was reading.
I wish I could ease this sadness though. I also feel like such an ass. I made sure we had chairs for guests - though Chris was the one that carried them home from half way across the city, I made my poor husband go on a fourth trip to the grocery store today to get pop for guests that never showed. I nearly killed myself cutting veggies, making a double batch of cookies, burning myself on raisin bread, and for what? *Sigh* the Cookies and bread can be frozen. In honesty, I made the bread with the thought that at least I'd have something sure to look forward to today. I think though, this is why, once I got past 13, I never threw another party. I just couldn't take the thought that no one would show up. So when I did invite people over it was only people I knew wouldn't not show, like my family and best friends. But my best friends live in different cities now, I'm not even sure if they would show up if I invited them. I'll have to try, but I'm not going to hold my breath.
Still. It wasn't a bad day. I got to snuggle my husband, and something actually made me keep the floors clean. lol. *Sigh* Just not what I'd hoped for. Oh well. Maybe we'll try again when one of us turns 40; preferably me.
But what really pisses me off, is this was supposed to be a birthday party for my husband. And no one showed up. Not a single one of the people I thought were our friends! And now there is no one here to eat the damn cake. The cake that is fucking perfect, and no one but us to eat it! Bah! Bah I say! Well, at least my husband is a fairly solitary creature, I don't think he's half as put out as I am. And he still wants to eat the cake I made. I'm very glad of this. I had some bread, and somehow I'm very full, but make no mistake, we will be eating that cake, and by gods we will enjoy it because it is magnificent.
Update:
To those of you who made my husband morose - *shakes my fist at you*
So can you guess how many showed up? Yup. That's right. Zero. At least a couple of them had understandable excuses. But when no one shows up.... Yeah, that's no coincidence. This is me, never throwing another party again.
On the bright side, at least 90% of the perishable food in our fridge is healthy! Lots of veggies, and fresh salsa, and cheese. Mmm, cheese.
The day wasn't wasted though. I vacuumed and washed the floors, and made raisin bread. All before 1pm! I even go to finish the dirty book I was reading.
I wish I could ease this sadness though. I also feel like such an ass. I made sure we had chairs for guests - though Chris was the one that carried them home from half way across the city, I made my poor husband go on a fourth trip to the grocery store today to get pop for guests that never showed. I nearly killed myself cutting veggies, making a double batch of cookies, burning myself on raisin bread, and for what? *Sigh* the Cookies and bread can be frozen. In honesty, I made the bread with the thought that at least I'd have something sure to look forward to today. I think though, this is why, once I got past 13, I never threw another party. I just couldn't take the thought that no one would show up. So when I did invite people over it was only people I knew wouldn't not show, like my family and best friends. But my best friends live in different cities now, I'm not even sure if they would show up if I invited them. I'll have to try, but I'm not going to hold my breath.
Still. It wasn't a bad day. I got to snuggle my husband, and something actually made me keep the floors clean. lol. *Sigh* Just not what I'd hoped for. Oh well. Maybe we'll try again when one of us turns 40; preferably me.
But what really pisses me off, is this was supposed to be a birthday party for my husband. And no one showed up. Not a single one of the people I thought were our friends! And now there is no one here to eat the damn cake. The cake that is fucking perfect, and no one but us to eat it! Bah! Bah I say! Well, at least my husband is a fairly solitary creature, I don't think he's half as put out as I am. And he still wants to eat the cake I made. I'm very glad of this. I had some bread, and somehow I'm very full, but make no mistake, we will be eating that cake, and by gods we will enjoy it because it is magnificent.
Update:
To those of you who made my husband morose - *shakes my fist at you*
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Update.
The weather lately has been fantastic! Sunshine, not too cold, not too hot either. Rather lovely. Today, however, looks like the last lovely day in some time - the forecast calls for all kinds of rain for the foreseeable future. So I'm hoping to go out today and do as much as I can. I'm not sure how much I'll manage. Chronic illness means I never have enough energy for the ambition/goals I have.
This weekend we are having a birthday party for my husband/apartment warming. I have no idea who is actually going to show up. Most of our friends seem to have other plans this weekend and can't make it. Makes me sad, but oh well. As Chris said, we tried.
I'm not sure if it's my particular mental stint, or if it's reality. I'm just...wondering if...friend is the right term. Maybe acquaintance is more appropriate. I mean, when we asked for help painting, and then moving the only offers we got were from my father (!!) and Shasta who lives with more pain than I do. I was shocked that my father was willing to help, he's basically ignored me my whole life, and I was saddened that none of our acquaintances cared enough to even make excuses.
It makes me realise why I've heard so many women say that their husband is their best friend. Many women marry men they would be friends with under other circumstances, but as it is, what with being married and all, their husbands are always there, always willing to listen, to help. I've always been jealous of women who say that. So very jealous. If it wasn't for the sex, for the marriage bit, Chris and I would not be friends. I love him, but I can't talk to him about a lot of things - things I would talk to my friends about, that I used to talk to my friends about, when I had close friends. But life, time, space, have combined to mean I just don't have close friends anymore, and Chris is my best friend. Poor man. I know he would never willingly take that post. And it's not that anything's changed. I still can't talk to him about chick things, or matters of the heart, or most of the things that eat at me, because he either doesn't want to hear it, or doesn't know how to respond. He's also a very solitary creature, and I often get the "I've had people talking at me all day, let me have some peace" speech when I do try to talk to him. So yeah. I try very very hard not to talk to him about most things. Even attempting to share my day with him never goes well.
I'm not good at making friends. I'm... not good with people in that way. But I mean, I can't relate to most normal life experiences, and most people have no clue how I live my life. I don't work. I don't even do most normal housewife things. I don't have kids (thank the gods). I live in chronic pain. I have no energy for anything. I just can't do so many things healthy people do and take for granted. How do I relate to them? I can't. That's the truth of it. So part of me holds back, but part of me just doesn't know what to say. =/
Anyway, thinking about this isn't going to make it any better. I don't know how to fix it. And dwelling just makes me sad.
This weekend we are having a birthday party for my husband/apartment warming. I have no idea who is actually going to show up. Most of our friends seem to have other plans this weekend and can't make it. Makes me sad, but oh well. As Chris said, we tried.
I'm not sure if it's my particular mental stint, or if it's reality. I'm just...wondering if...friend is the right term. Maybe acquaintance is more appropriate. I mean, when we asked for help painting, and then moving the only offers we got were from my father (!!) and Shasta who lives with more pain than I do. I was shocked that my father was willing to help, he's basically ignored me my whole life, and I was saddened that none of our acquaintances cared enough to even make excuses.
It makes me realise why I've heard so many women say that their husband is their best friend. Many women marry men they would be friends with under other circumstances, but as it is, what with being married and all, their husbands are always there, always willing to listen, to help. I've always been jealous of women who say that. So very jealous. If it wasn't for the sex, for the marriage bit, Chris and I would not be friends. I love him, but I can't talk to him about a lot of things - things I would talk to my friends about, that I used to talk to my friends about, when I had close friends. But life, time, space, have combined to mean I just don't have close friends anymore, and Chris is my best friend. Poor man. I know he would never willingly take that post. And it's not that anything's changed. I still can't talk to him about chick things, or matters of the heart, or most of the things that eat at me, because he either doesn't want to hear it, or doesn't know how to respond. He's also a very solitary creature, and I often get the "I've had people talking at me all day, let me have some peace" speech when I do try to talk to him. So yeah. I try very very hard not to talk to him about most things. Even attempting to share my day with him never goes well.
I'm not good at making friends. I'm... not good with people in that way. But I mean, I can't relate to most normal life experiences, and most people have no clue how I live my life. I don't work. I don't even do most normal housewife things. I don't have kids (thank the gods). I live in chronic pain. I have no energy for anything. I just can't do so many things healthy people do and take for granted. How do I relate to them? I can't. That's the truth of it. So part of me holds back, but part of me just doesn't know what to say. =/
Anyway, thinking about this isn't going to make it any better. I don't know how to fix it. And dwelling just makes me sad.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Late Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Hope everyone's Christmas was lovely, mine certainly was! I got to spend some time with my parents, before the big day, which made Christmas feel much more whole for me.
I 'helped' my mom make donuts. She does the actual making, and once they are fried, I shook them in the cinnamon and sugar combo to coat them -- that's always been my job since I was little. It is a help though, it means mom doesn't have to stop frying to coat them, cause if you let them cool too much then the sugar just doesn't stick to the donuts.
Last year I had a terrible cold the week before Christmas, so I only saw my parents Christmas eve, and part of Christmas day. I felt cheated. I barely got any rappie pie and not one single donut. When I realised after Christmas that I'd missed out on my mom's donuts completely I literally sobbed my dismay to Chris. He totally didn't get it. But mom only makes donuts at Christmas. And they are fantastic! They're a 'tea time' donut, meant to be eaten the day they are made. The nutmeg in them is what makes them delicious, well that and the cinnamon and sugar coating on the outside. They are kinda like Tim Horton's Old Fashioned Plain donut, only with a coating. Though Timmie's has nothing on my mom's donuts.
So yeah, this year I got my fill of donuts. Or at least I had enough to satisfy my craving. I also got to have lots and lots of rappie pie. So very good! So very filling. So very strange, really, if you aren't used to it. It's basically meat and potatoes. But it's about as close to shepard's pie as Quittach is to soccer. lol.
I really enjoyed Christmas this year. We didn't have to rush, and everyone pitched in to help my mom with dinner. Chris and I helped with some of the set-up, and my aunts helped with the clean-up, which meant my mom didn't have to do everything herself. I haven't actually had a chance to talk to her since, but I'm hoping Christmas didn't leave her as drained as it did last year. She seemed to be holding up pretty well when we left at 5pm, which was well after our Christmas dinner. Though we call it dinner, it's always a late-ish lunch at about 2pm. That way we eat, we sit and talk, and about the time it's getting dark everyone is about ready to go home. Which works out perfectly for my young cousins who were there and my uncle who is in his 80s. And frankly for mom and Pa who are no longer spring chickens themselves, though I think they do far better than many people their age.
Christmas, for me, is all about family, and getting to spend it with my family and my husband was very very happy making. We even got to spend boxing day with our adopted family of Toronto friends, which was totally awesome!
This New Years Eve we are going to party held by our aforementioned Toronto friends. It's a theme party - tarts and vicars! I'm very much looking forward to it. Thanks to Halloween's past Chris already has his costume, mine is more up in the air. I'm sure I'll come up with something sufficiently tarty. If I had more time/energy/money I would totally be tempted to buy an outrageous wig, and some fake press on nails. lol. But I think I'll have to make do with what's already in my closets. I wish I had my tall boots in Toronto, but we had way too much to carry home Christmas day for me to bring them from Hamilton sadly.
And because I just can't not mention it, my mom gave us the most wonderful Christmas gift!! I know it's not supposed to be about gifts, and it's not, really, it's the thought behind it that has me all gushy. After we got married this last October, I confessed to my mom that even though we said no physical gifts, what I really wanted, was for my mom to buy me nice silverware. I have absolutely no luck in picking out silverware. I've bought some before for work, twice even, and both times they so did not work out. They rusted! They tasted of metallic decay! It was awful! My mom on the other hand has lovely taste in silverware. And I still remember when I was quite young, and one of my cousins was getting married. Mom bought him and his new wife silverware and a lovely wooden case for it. From that moment on, in my head, that was thee most perfect wedding gift. Nothing more was said, time went on, Chris and I last week bought ourselves a set of silverware while at Ikea -- we've wanted something better than what we have for some time, but the wedding came first. Since we were there (IKEA) we thought we'd pick something up that looked good. Thankfully we didn't get around to opening it as Christmas morning we found not one, but three sets of beautiful, simple, elegant silverware under the tree from my mom and pa!! Ironically the silverware mom picked looks almost exactly like the set I picked at Ikea that they didn't have any of. They had it on display, but we couldn't find a package of it. Mom said she'd liked another better, but they didn't have enough, so she got this one, remembering I like things plain. She picked perfectly. I love love love them. I know, considering I told her I wanted her to pick them for me only two months before I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was! I really really was. And what a wonderful surprise indeed!
It's a little morbid, but I know I'm not going to have my mom and pa forever. They are getting on in years. And although they may be with me for the next ten years, give or take, I (hopefully) will be around a lot longer... And the idea of having something so lovely, that I will use every day, to remind me of her is just a wonderful thought. So she'll never be 100% gone. I'm a physical person.. having a physical something that says 'mom loves me' around, is worth its weight in gold, as they say.
So yeah, Christmas was great! And I'm hoping NYE will be equally as fun.
I 'helped' my mom make donuts. She does the actual making, and once they are fried, I shook them in the cinnamon and sugar combo to coat them -- that's always been my job since I was little. It is a help though, it means mom doesn't have to stop frying to coat them, cause if you let them cool too much then the sugar just doesn't stick to the donuts.
Last year I had a terrible cold the week before Christmas, so I only saw my parents Christmas eve, and part of Christmas day. I felt cheated. I barely got any rappie pie and not one single donut. When I realised after Christmas that I'd missed out on my mom's donuts completely I literally sobbed my dismay to Chris. He totally didn't get it. But mom only makes donuts at Christmas. And they are fantastic! They're a 'tea time' donut, meant to be eaten the day they are made. The nutmeg in them is what makes them delicious, well that and the cinnamon and sugar coating on the outside. They are kinda like Tim Horton's Old Fashioned Plain donut, only with a coating. Though Timmie's has nothing on my mom's donuts.
So yeah, this year I got my fill of donuts. Or at least I had enough to satisfy my craving. I also got to have lots and lots of rappie pie. So very good! So very filling. So very strange, really, if you aren't used to it. It's basically meat and potatoes. But it's about as close to shepard's pie as Quittach is to soccer. lol.
I really enjoyed Christmas this year. We didn't have to rush, and everyone pitched in to help my mom with dinner. Chris and I helped with some of the set-up, and my aunts helped with the clean-up, which meant my mom didn't have to do everything herself. I haven't actually had a chance to talk to her since, but I'm hoping Christmas didn't leave her as drained as it did last year. She seemed to be holding up pretty well when we left at 5pm, which was well after our Christmas dinner. Though we call it dinner, it's always a late-ish lunch at about 2pm. That way we eat, we sit and talk, and about the time it's getting dark everyone is about ready to go home. Which works out perfectly for my young cousins who were there and my uncle who is in his 80s. And frankly for mom and Pa who are no longer spring chickens themselves, though I think they do far better than many people their age.
Christmas, for me, is all about family, and getting to spend it with my family and my husband was very very happy making. We even got to spend boxing day with our adopted family of Toronto friends, which was totally awesome!
This New Years Eve we are going to party held by our aforementioned Toronto friends. It's a theme party - tarts and vicars! I'm very much looking forward to it. Thanks to Halloween's past Chris already has his costume, mine is more up in the air. I'm sure I'll come up with something sufficiently tarty. If I had more time/energy/money I would totally be tempted to buy an outrageous wig, and some fake press on nails. lol. But I think I'll have to make do with what's already in my closets. I wish I had my tall boots in Toronto, but we had way too much to carry home Christmas day for me to bring them from Hamilton sadly.
And because I just can't not mention it, my mom gave us the most wonderful Christmas gift!! I know it's not supposed to be about gifts, and it's not, really, it's the thought behind it that has me all gushy. After we got married this last October, I confessed to my mom that even though we said no physical gifts, what I really wanted, was for my mom to buy me nice silverware. I have absolutely no luck in picking out silverware. I've bought some before for work, twice even, and both times they so did not work out. They rusted! They tasted of metallic decay! It was awful! My mom on the other hand has lovely taste in silverware. And I still remember when I was quite young, and one of my cousins was getting married. Mom bought him and his new wife silverware and a lovely wooden case for it. From that moment on, in my head, that was thee most perfect wedding gift. Nothing more was said, time went on, Chris and I last week bought ourselves a set of silverware while at Ikea -- we've wanted something better than what we have for some time, but the wedding came first. Since we were there (IKEA) we thought we'd pick something up that looked good. Thankfully we didn't get around to opening it as Christmas morning we found not one, but three sets of beautiful, simple, elegant silverware under the tree from my mom and pa!! Ironically the silverware mom picked looks almost exactly like the set I picked at Ikea that they didn't have any of. They had it on display, but we couldn't find a package of it. Mom said she'd liked another better, but they didn't have enough, so she got this one, remembering I like things plain. She picked perfectly. I love love love them. I know, considering I told her I wanted her to pick them for me only two months before I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was! I really really was. And what a wonderful surprise indeed!
It's a little morbid, but I know I'm not going to have my mom and pa forever. They are getting on in years. And although they may be with me for the next ten years, give or take, I (hopefully) will be around a lot longer... And the idea of having something so lovely, that I will use every day, to remind me of her is just a wonderful thought. So she'll never be 100% gone. I'm a physical person.. having a physical something that says 'mom loves me' around, is worth its weight in gold, as they say.
So yeah, Christmas was great! And I'm hoping NYE will be equally as fun.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
The Good with the Bad....
Life throws some curve balls.... Just about the time I met Chris my health issues were coming to a head, ie. I was at my breaking point. I think I did break. I'm still trying to pick up the pieces.... But it's like I'm a blind cripple with one hand, and there are thousands of pieces... It's slow hard work.
Sometimes, when I'm in more pain than I can bare, I think 'what I wouldn't give to be pain-free!!', at that point I often feel like I'd give up anything, just anything. But when I'm clearer headed. When the pain is there but not enough to fog my mind, like today, I realise, there are just some things I would never give up. Like my husband. If I had to choose having him, his love, his support, his presence in my life or being pain-free, I'd pick him. He's worth it. What would my life be worth without him in it? Who would I have to share my life with? I'm often lonely. I'm not very good at being social.... I'm shy, and awkward, and I just.. yeah, I end up lonely... But without him, it would just be so much worse... If I was pain free, I'm sure I'd have some kind of job, and such, but I'd come home to an empty apartment, I'd sleep alone... there would be no cuddles, no kisses...and so much more that means he's mine and I'm his.
The whole is greater than it's parts... That's the thing. I'm a sap. I know it. But life is just so much better with him in it. Even with the pain. And that's fucking saying something boys and girls!
I'm still no good at fighting the pain. I'm just not. I think I broke that part of me. I don't know how to get it back, I just don't. But I think I'm slowly learning, or re-learning how to just get up and do something. I'm trying to not expect superhero-ism from myself that I see in my friends. I can't do that. But I can do something. So that's what I'm focusing on. I can't concur the world in a day, but I can say, go out and get groceries when the pain isn't too bad. I can get up and shower and do dishes on days when I hurt. Even if that's all I do, that's something. And something is more than nothing. I'm fighting this battle in inches, in centimeters even. Every little thing counts. So I'm trying to keep doing, even if it's little. I feel better when I do something with myself every day. So I just have to keep doing, and I've been doing rather well. Not huge things, but I got groceries this week, I've baked 6 dozen cookies, and I've done more loads of dishes than I can count. That's not too shabby really.
I still haven't figured out how to get myself back to the gym. Honestly, I'm scared. I don't know why. It's stupid. It's irrational. Totally dumb-ass. But I can't help it. I'm just scared to go in there. I'm scared that... that the few machines I know how to use, and don't hurt me will be busy and I won't know what to do with myself. I'm scared I'll get on something else and my knees will scream, and I'll push, and then I'll end up in bed for a month, again, crying, sobbing, unable to sleep, in absolute misery, and I'll loose what little hold on being a person I have. I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to get on those bikes. I'm terrified of them. But for some reason this fear sits in the pit of my stomach. That and well, I'm the size of a house. I just feel really weird about going to the gym damnit. It's fucked up. But there it is. Damn fear. I really need to just get over it. It won't be so bad once I go there once. I was hoping to go with the hubby, but work for him has been all hours, and he's exhausted. He has enough trouble just getting through the work day never mind going to the gym.
Today my goal is to get yarn for Chris' mittens. Tomorrow I want to go to the gym in the morning. It's all I am letting myself have on my plate. That's part of the trouble for me. If I go to the gym, I'm worried I'll use up all my day's energy and I won't be able to do anything else.... But I need to get back at it. I really need to get more active. Hopefully I can manage. I don't know if my fibro will even let me. But I have to try. I just have to. I do not want to have surgery. I don't. I really really don't. damnit.
Sometimes, when I'm in more pain than I can bare, I think 'what I wouldn't give to be pain-free!!', at that point I often feel like I'd give up anything, just anything. But when I'm clearer headed. When the pain is there but not enough to fog my mind, like today, I realise, there are just some things I would never give up. Like my husband. If I had to choose having him, his love, his support, his presence in my life or being pain-free, I'd pick him. He's worth it. What would my life be worth without him in it? Who would I have to share my life with? I'm often lonely. I'm not very good at being social.... I'm shy, and awkward, and I just.. yeah, I end up lonely... But without him, it would just be so much worse... If I was pain free, I'm sure I'd have some kind of job, and such, but I'd come home to an empty apartment, I'd sleep alone... there would be no cuddles, no kisses...and so much more that means he's mine and I'm his.
The whole is greater than it's parts... That's the thing. I'm a sap. I know it. But life is just so much better with him in it. Even with the pain. And that's fucking saying something boys and girls!
I'm still no good at fighting the pain. I'm just not. I think I broke that part of me. I don't know how to get it back, I just don't. But I think I'm slowly learning, or re-learning how to just get up and do something. I'm trying to not expect superhero-ism from myself that I see in my friends. I can't do that. But I can do something. So that's what I'm focusing on. I can't concur the world in a day, but I can say, go out and get groceries when the pain isn't too bad. I can get up and shower and do dishes on days when I hurt. Even if that's all I do, that's something. And something is more than nothing. I'm fighting this battle in inches, in centimeters even. Every little thing counts. So I'm trying to keep doing, even if it's little. I feel better when I do something with myself every day. So I just have to keep doing, and I've been doing rather well. Not huge things, but I got groceries this week, I've baked 6 dozen cookies, and I've done more loads of dishes than I can count. That's not too shabby really.
I still haven't figured out how to get myself back to the gym. Honestly, I'm scared. I don't know why. It's stupid. It's irrational. Totally dumb-ass. But I can't help it. I'm just scared to go in there. I'm scared that... that the few machines I know how to use, and don't hurt me will be busy and I won't know what to do with myself. I'm scared I'll get on something else and my knees will scream, and I'll push, and then I'll end up in bed for a month, again, crying, sobbing, unable to sleep, in absolute misery, and I'll loose what little hold on being a person I have. I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to get on those bikes. I'm terrified of them. But for some reason this fear sits in the pit of my stomach. That and well, I'm the size of a house. I just feel really weird about going to the gym damnit. It's fucked up. But there it is. Damn fear. I really need to just get over it. It won't be so bad once I go there once. I was hoping to go with the hubby, but work for him has been all hours, and he's exhausted. He has enough trouble just getting through the work day never mind going to the gym.
Today my goal is to get yarn for Chris' mittens. Tomorrow I want to go to the gym in the morning. It's all I am letting myself have on my plate. That's part of the trouble for me. If I go to the gym, I'm worried I'll use up all my day's energy and I won't be able to do anything else.... But I need to get back at it. I really need to get more active. Hopefully I can manage. I don't know if my fibro will even let me. But I have to try. I just have to. I do not want to have surgery. I don't. I really really don't. damnit.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Depressed...
I had a nap today. While listening to an audiobook even. I started feeling heavy, sore absolutely everywhere. It hurt so bad. Like sinking into a vat of mild acid or something... And then darkness. I woke up when my phone bugged me to take meds, but was still too tired, so I stopped it and didn't take my meds. They're for pain, but I HAVE to take them with food. I'm heating up something for lunch, I'll take them then.
When I did finally wake up... I realised why I didn't want to make up. Realised why I let myself fall into painful sleep. Besides the fact that I didn't sleep well last night and woke up too fucking early for what little sleep I got.... I'm depressed. I just want to curl up in a ball and hide from the world. Hide from everything.
I've got a child inside that loves Christmas more than anything else in the world. Because everyone smiles. Everyone comes home. Our home feels like the centre of the world. Hugs abound. Laughter. Yummy cookies before dinner! Yummy turkey! Dinner with more than the three of us! Krokono (or however it's spelled) came out! We all played, no matter how bad we were. Family. Family all around. Talking all at once. Laughing. The older I got the more the giving of presents has become important. Being able to give my parents back something. Being able to make them smile. Still the kid. Still seeking approval. Their joy became everything. Eating breakfast together. Roppie Pie... mmmm.. All the roppie pie I could eat! Yeah, Christmas time was great.
Christmas hasn't really been like that in some time though. There's fewer of us. Most of mom's kids just don't visit. They have grandbabies of their own now, now THEY are the ones being visited. A few still come, maybe three of the 7 or so that used to. They don't stay long, but it's still very nice to see them. Uncle Don is more quiet, less likely to smile now that his wife isn't here with us anymore. But he comes. There's no more krokono. Everyone just lost interest I guess. Aunt Gladis, uncle Don's wife would always play. It would her, Pa, and Uncle Don beckoning someone to come play with them, but with just the two men... it wasn't the same. But there was still smiles. Still laughter. Still family. Still goodies, and gifts, and yummy food my mommy made. When I actually had money, and a life of my own, being able to shower my parents with gifts they way they always did me, was the greatest joy. Their surprise. Their joy. They didn't always love what I got them, but they were grateful. That's how they raised me to be too. They knew how much it meant to be, to be able to give to them. I miss that sooo much.
As of last year, my Christmas was not my own. I was part of a couple. Now I'm married. I have obligations to both families. We don't drive. It's at the very least an hour and a half between them. Because of transit, it takes as long to get to his parents from our home in Toronto, as it does to get to my parents. And the time to get from one to the other is about the same as that as well. If we don't start at one of our parents house then we're going to end up spending six hours traveling Christmas day, and barely an hour or two with either family. And then boxing day, instead of resting, we have to spend it with his extended family. It's just not fair. His family always ends up weaseling more time out of us. And we always end up leaving feeling depressed. His family means well I'm sure but the constant barrage of questions and remarks that clearly say, "Why aren't you living like us? Why aren't you living up to our expectations? What's wrong with you? (and just for me: Why aren't you soldiering through, it's not that bad? Why aren't you working? Why aren't you in school?)" It leaves us exhausted, grumpy, and at least me, sad. I do not look forward to any of that.
Chris said we don't have to spend Christmas together. Lots of couples don't. We could go to our respective parents. Yeah, cause that's just what I want to do. I want to abandon him. I want to spend my once favourite holiday away from him. This is not what I want.
But I can't seem to figure it any way that will work. My parents no longer have a spare bedroom. Or, rather, I no longer have a bed there. My Aunt Barb is planning on staying at my parents a few days before Christmas. That means she'll be sleeping on the couch or on the air mattress on the floor in the living room. There would be no room for us if we wanted to sleep there. Just, literally, no room. I so do NOT want to sleep at Chris' parents. They're nice enough and all, but I would be so so so uncomfortable there. I wouldn't sleep a wink. I'd be sick and feverish the whole day as a result. No, no, we can't do that. So what? We sleep at home and get up at 6am to catch the 7:30am bus to get to my parents by 9am... so we can get started on making/helping my mom make dinner. Because I don't want her doing everything by herself this year. It's too much. I'm not a bad cook. If she directs, I'm sure it will be fine. Though I don't see why we'd need to get started at 9am. I tried to tell Chris there was no way we were getting mom to not cook the turkey. She's just going to do it, and we won't even know she has until we smell it cooking hours later (if we were to stay over). We so don't need to start the veggies and such at 9am! pft! Mom will bake the pies a few days before... I'm thinking I might come home and ask if I can help. Hell, I'll ask for lessons! I'm terrible at pie crust rolling. I wanna do it with her cheering/instructing. She can peel and cut the apples. Show me how much to add. I've never done it! I want to help. I really do. If I make it like she's doing ME a favor, she'll be more likely to let me in. Especially if I'm there in the morning and ready. So, we'll see, THAT might work. *Sigh* but then we still have to see his parents.... which would mean leaving before dinner was done, very likely. Or just after. And then staying late at his parents WAY past my bedtime like we did last year. I was hoping we could invite Chris' parents to my parents. That was HIS idea. It's a good idea. But that means a ton of people at my mom's house. If I'm not there to make sure she isn't doing too much I'll worry. Like really worry. And Chris will guilt me into being even more worried. So yeah...
Christmas is now just a fucking nightmare and I want to hide under the covers and pretend I don't exist -- my standard response when things make me this sad and I feel just as helpless, just as useless as I do now to make anything at all better.
I mean, I have fibro. I AM useless. And everyone around me knows it. My mom worries I'll do too much, and does for me. Chris worries I'll wear myself out and doesn't let me help even when I'm up and around. I'm like morbidly obese, icky eye candy or something. Not even good for looking at, but that's all I'm good for... =/
When I did finally wake up... I realised why I didn't want to make up. Realised why I let myself fall into painful sleep. Besides the fact that I didn't sleep well last night and woke up too fucking early for what little sleep I got.... I'm depressed. I just want to curl up in a ball and hide from the world. Hide from everything.
I've got a child inside that loves Christmas more than anything else in the world. Because everyone smiles. Everyone comes home. Our home feels like the centre of the world. Hugs abound. Laughter. Yummy cookies before dinner! Yummy turkey! Dinner with more than the three of us! Krokono (or however it's spelled) came out! We all played, no matter how bad we were. Family. Family all around. Talking all at once. Laughing. The older I got the more the giving of presents has become important. Being able to give my parents back something. Being able to make them smile. Still the kid. Still seeking approval. Their joy became everything. Eating breakfast together. Roppie Pie... mmmm.. All the roppie pie I could eat! Yeah, Christmas time was great.
Christmas hasn't really been like that in some time though. There's fewer of us. Most of mom's kids just don't visit. They have grandbabies of their own now, now THEY are the ones being visited. A few still come, maybe three of the 7 or so that used to. They don't stay long, but it's still very nice to see them. Uncle Don is more quiet, less likely to smile now that his wife isn't here with us anymore. But he comes. There's no more krokono. Everyone just lost interest I guess. Aunt Gladis, uncle Don's wife would always play. It would her, Pa, and Uncle Don beckoning someone to come play with them, but with just the two men... it wasn't the same. But there was still smiles. Still laughter. Still family. Still goodies, and gifts, and yummy food my mommy made. When I actually had money, and a life of my own, being able to shower my parents with gifts they way they always did me, was the greatest joy. Their surprise. Their joy. They didn't always love what I got them, but they were grateful. That's how they raised me to be too. They knew how much it meant to be, to be able to give to them. I miss that sooo much.
As of last year, my Christmas was not my own. I was part of a couple. Now I'm married. I have obligations to both families. We don't drive. It's at the very least an hour and a half between them. Because of transit, it takes as long to get to his parents from our home in Toronto, as it does to get to my parents. And the time to get from one to the other is about the same as that as well. If we don't start at one of our parents house then we're going to end up spending six hours traveling Christmas day, and barely an hour or two with either family. And then boxing day, instead of resting, we have to spend it with his extended family. It's just not fair. His family always ends up weaseling more time out of us. And we always end up leaving feeling depressed. His family means well I'm sure but the constant barrage of questions and remarks that clearly say, "Why aren't you living like us? Why aren't you living up to our expectations? What's wrong with you? (and just for me: Why aren't you soldiering through, it's not that bad? Why aren't you working? Why aren't you in school?)" It leaves us exhausted, grumpy, and at least me, sad. I do not look forward to any of that.
Chris said we don't have to spend Christmas together. Lots of couples don't. We could go to our respective parents. Yeah, cause that's just what I want to do. I want to abandon him. I want to spend my once favourite holiday away from him. This is not what I want.
But I can't seem to figure it any way that will work. My parents no longer have a spare bedroom. Or, rather, I no longer have a bed there. My Aunt Barb is planning on staying at my parents a few days before Christmas. That means she'll be sleeping on the couch or on the air mattress on the floor in the living room. There would be no room for us if we wanted to sleep there. Just, literally, no room. I so do NOT want to sleep at Chris' parents. They're nice enough and all, but I would be so so so uncomfortable there. I wouldn't sleep a wink. I'd be sick and feverish the whole day as a result. No, no, we can't do that. So what? We sleep at home and get up at 6am to catch the 7:30am bus to get to my parents by 9am... so we can get started on making/helping my mom make dinner. Because I don't want her doing everything by herself this year. It's too much. I'm not a bad cook. If she directs, I'm sure it will be fine. Though I don't see why we'd need to get started at 9am. I tried to tell Chris there was no way we were getting mom to not cook the turkey. She's just going to do it, and we won't even know she has until we smell it cooking hours later (if we were to stay over). We so don't need to start the veggies and such at 9am! pft! Mom will bake the pies a few days before... I'm thinking I might come home and ask if I can help. Hell, I'll ask for lessons! I'm terrible at pie crust rolling. I wanna do it with her cheering/instructing. She can peel and cut the apples. Show me how much to add. I've never done it! I want to help. I really do. If I make it like she's doing ME a favor, she'll be more likely to let me in. Especially if I'm there in the morning and ready. So, we'll see, THAT might work. *Sigh* but then we still have to see his parents.... which would mean leaving before dinner was done, very likely. Or just after. And then staying late at his parents WAY past my bedtime like we did last year. I was hoping we could invite Chris' parents to my parents. That was HIS idea. It's a good idea. But that means a ton of people at my mom's house. If I'm not there to make sure she isn't doing too much I'll worry. Like really worry. And Chris will guilt me into being even more worried. So yeah...
Christmas is now just a fucking nightmare and I want to hide under the covers and pretend I don't exist -- my standard response when things make me this sad and I feel just as helpless, just as useless as I do now to make anything at all better.
I mean, I have fibro. I AM useless. And everyone around me knows it. My mom worries I'll do too much, and does for me. Chris worries I'll wear myself out and doesn't let me help even when I'm up and around. I'm like morbidly obese, icky eye candy or something. Not even good for looking at, but that's all I'm good for... =/
Monday, October 11, 2010
We're Married!!!!
We're married! We did it! Yaaaaay!
I don't have any pictures to share because I was too busy getting married to take any! ;)
All my planning and preparations paid off. Everything went so very smoothly! Only two tiny things didn't go as planned:
(1) We didn't end up getting my laptop set up so Neda could skype in. We just didn't have the time. Though oddly enough we were running ahead of schedule all morning until about 9am. But then, that's exactly why I have us extra time! On the plus side Sabrina and Brian were able to record the ceremony with their fancy schamzy new camera, so Neda will get to see it!
(2) The boutoneires I made didn't sit quite right. They were too heavy, in part, and as my Pa pointed out (he is soooo smart!) I put the pins too low, it would have worked better with them higher. How he knew that I don't know. I've got such amazing parents, I do!
And that's it really. Everything else went according to plan, or at least worked out just fine, so yay! And really, as far as what could go wrong, such minor things as did, really aren't a big deal at all. Honestly, I'm thrilled everything went so very smoothly!
The catering manager said this was the easiest wedding she'd done, and I was the nicest, least bridezilla bride she's ever had to deal with!! This makes me very happy indeed! Chris joked about me being bridezilla, but honestly, not so much. I was my bitchiest as I was waiting for Chris to do up my dress, and while he was doing it. Mostly because I felt to dang helpless. Doing up my dress, since it's a corset back was something I could most definitely not do myself. Giving up control bothered me, but mostly being so helpless frustrated me. Having to stand around waiting for someone to dress me was the oddest feeling ever! So helpless, so indebted. I like being able to do for myself damnit. lol.
Everyone loved my dress, was impressed with my flowers, even more so when they learned I did them myself! :D Chris was my cheerleader and helper the whole day through. People kept complimenting the wedding, and the things I made, and Chris would pipe up 'She made that too', and everyone would be even more amazed! Heh. I honestly thought people realised I'd made all the things I did, but they always seemed surprised when Chris told them I did it, so yay! Go me! The crafty bride! Judy, our photographer told Chris that I was the craftiest bride she's ever done a wedding for!! How awesome is that?!
One of my oldest friends, Will, who is the other half of Will and Angie (two of my oldest and dearest friends), who has always been kinda like our big brother, and often 'one of the girls', was just totally amazing for us on our wedding day. He took care of the music, helped up coral people, drove us out to the picture location, stayed and waited to take us back to the hotel. Got me food and water when we arrived back at the hotel - I was just so thirsty, and really sad we didn't get to even try our hors d'ourves. I totally didn't ask, he just came out with a little plate and a glass of water! My hero! Chris said then, he really is like an older brother, and he is. I wouldn't feel right without saying how wonderful he was, he really made things so much easier for us. He totally stepped up, like he always does 'cause that's the kind of man he is, and I love him to bits for being such a wonderful man. :)
Now to the events in the order they occurred...
The ceremony was an amazing blur for me. I remember Carole our officiant reading the part about the teapot that I wrote, and smiling at me. That was awesome. She really seemed to get it, which thrilled me.
The pictures went off without a hitch, we got to use the most amazing backdrop of fall colours! A pond, with changing trees behind, oh it was breathtaking! The pictures of just us were fabulous. It felt like we got a lot done, and honestly, it really felt like we had three hours with Judy, not just the one and a bit we did have, so YAY. I really can't wait to see the pictures!!
Dinner was lovely, just... lovely. The tables looked amazing with all my ornamental gourds against the black table clothes. Everyone seemed to like the hors d'ourves I picked! Except for the spring rolls; they were not what I expected either, but that's okay, there was more than enough food! Dinner itself was great. The buffet worked out really well I think. And the fact that we had extra space was awesome - the two and three year old had lots of room to play and run around.
Thanks to Sabrina, everyone signed my guest book. I got smiles and laughs about my octopus comment (the sign I made said if they didn't sign the guest book, the guest book octopus would get them), and the actual knitted octopuses. The four kids, and their parents seemed very pleased that they each got to take one home! So yay!! My cousin Malcolm, ever the sweetheart, asked me which one was my favourite, and that's the one he picked!
Everyone just loved the cake. I received lots of compliments on how good it looked, how professional. Then they ate it, and were blown away by my chocolate cake! YAY! I cut the chocolate, bottom layer first, so a lot of people didn't get to try the coconut, but that's okay. Even Chris' shy cousin asked, in a kind of awed voice, if I'd made that chocolate cake, and if I made it often! I said yes, it's my go-to chocolate cake. He seemed really surprised and impressed! Woohooo!
The flying pigs, though some loved straight off, most didn't get until I explained - I always said I'd get married when pigs fly... David and Alice have to be some of my most favourite people, they loved the piggies straight off, and didn't need an explanation to make them awesome. :D David even mentioned that when I'd written on facebook that I was knitting octopuses for the wedding he'd thought 'this wedding is going to be awesome'! It really well and truly makes me feel just amazing when people actually get my sense of humour and understand my... aesthetic. So woohoo!
Everyone said there goodbyes after cake - it'd been a long day for everyone, I was totally okay with this timing! And by 4:30 we were in a cab and on our way home. We got to have a nice nap, then Chris made me dinner! We had snuggles and TV in bed. The perfect ending to our day - for us.
I don't have any pictures to share because I was too busy getting married to take any! ;)
All my planning and preparations paid off. Everything went so very smoothly! Only two tiny things didn't go as planned:
(1) We didn't end up getting my laptop set up so Neda could skype in. We just didn't have the time. Though oddly enough we were running ahead of schedule all morning until about 9am. But then, that's exactly why I have us extra time! On the plus side Sabrina and Brian were able to record the ceremony with their fancy schamzy new camera, so Neda will get to see it!
(2) The boutoneires I made didn't sit quite right. They were too heavy, in part, and as my Pa pointed out (he is soooo smart!) I put the pins too low, it would have worked better with them higher. How he knew that I don't know. I've got such amazing parents, I do!
And that's it really. Everything else went according to plan, or at least worked out just fine, so yay! And really, as far as what could go wrong, such minor things as did, really aren't a big deal at all. Honestly, I'm thrilled everything went so very smoothly!
The catering manager said this was the easiest wedding she'd done, and I was the nicest, least bridezilla bride she's ever had to deal with!! This makes me very happy indeed! Chris joked about me being bridezilla, but honestly, not so much. I was my bitchiest as I was waiting for Chris to do up my dress, and while he was doing it. Mostly because I felt to dang helpless. Doing up my dress, since it's a corset back was something I could most definitely not do myself. Giving up control bothered me, but mostly being so helpless frustrated me. Having to stand around waiting for someone to dress me was the oddest feeling ever! So helpless, so indebted. I like being able to do for myself damnit. lol.
Everyone loved my dress, was impressed with my flowers, even more so when they learned I did them myself! :D Chris was my cheerleader and helper the whole day through. People kept complimenting the wedding, and the things I made, and Chris would pipe up 'She made that too', and everyone would be even more amazed! Heh. I honestly thought people realised I'd made all the things I did, but they always seemed surprised when Chris told them I did it, so yay! Go me! The crafty bride! Judy, our photographer told Chris that I was the craftiest bride she's ever done a wedding for!! How awesome is that?!
One of my oldest friends, Will, who is the other half of Will and Angie (two of my oldest and dearest friends), who has always been kinda like our big brother, and often 'one of the girls', was just totally amazing for us on our wedding day. He took care of the music, helped up coral people, drove us out to the picture location, stayed and waited to take us back to the hotel. Got me food and water when we arrived back at the hotel - I was just so thirsty, and really sad we didn't get to even try our hors d'ourves. I totally didn't ask, he just came out with a little plate and a glass of water! My hero! Chris said then, he really is like an older brother, and he is. I wouldn't feel right without saying how wonderful he was, he really made things so much easier for us. He totally stepped up, like he always does 'cause that's the kind of man he is, and I love him to bits for being such a wonderful man. :)
Now to the events in the order they occurred...
The ceremony was an amazing blur for me. I remember Carole our officiant reading the part about the teapot that I wrote, and smiling at me. That was awesome. She really seemed to get it, which thrilled me.
The pictures went off without a hitch, we got to use the most amazing backdrop of fall colours! A pond, with changing trees behind, oh it was breathtaking! The pictures of just us were fabulous. It felt like we got a lot done, and honestly, it really felt like we had three hours with Judy, not just the one and a bit we did have, so YAY. I really can't wait to see the pictures!!
Dinner was lovely, just... lovely. The tables looked amazing with all my ornamental gourds against the black table clothes. Everyone seemed to like the hors d'ourves I picked! Except for the spring rolls; they were not what I expected either, but that's okay, there was more than enough food! Dinner itself was great. The buffet worked out really well I think. And the fact that we had extra space was awesome - the two and three year old had lots of room to play and run around.
Thanks to Sabrina, everyone signed my guest book. I got smiles and laughs about my octopus comment (the sign I made said if they didn't sign the guest book, the guest book octopus would get them), and the actual knitted octopuses. The four kids, and their parents seemed very pleased that they each got to take one home! So yay!! My cousin Malcolm, ever the sweetheart, asked me which one was my favourite, and that's the one he picked!
Everyone just loved the cake. I received lots of compliments on how good it looked, how professional. Then they ate it, and were blown away by my chocolate cake! YAY! I cut the chocolate, bottom layer first, so a lot of people didn't get to try the coconut, but that's okay. Even Chris' shy cousin asked, in a kind of awed voice, if I'd made that chocolate cake, and if I made it often! I said yes, it's my go-to chocolate cake. He seemed really surprised and impressed! Woohooo!
The flying pigs, though some loved straight off, most didn't get until I explained - I always said I'd get married when pigs fly... David and Alice have to be some of my most favourite people, they loved the piggies straight off, and didn't need an explanation to make them awesome. :D David even mentioned that when I'd written on facebook that I was knitting octopuses for the wedding he'd thought 'this wedding is going to be awesome'! It really well and truly makes me feel just amazing when people actually get my sense of humour and understand my... aesthetic. So woohoo!
Everyone said there goodbyes after cake - it'd been a long day for everyone, I was totally okay with this timing! And by 4:30 we were in a cab and on our way home. We got to have a nice nap, then Chris made me dinner! We had snuggles and TV in bed. The perfect ending to our day - for us.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Blood, Sweat, and Tears...
So yesterday I tried baking the chocolate cakes again. The first time I got the batter perfect, but my oven was very not level so my cakes came out having risen very unevenly. Like, insane uneven - one side was half as tall as the other! o.0 So those cakes were cut down, and frosted with a test ganache, and went to work with Chris. His coworkers seemed to enjoy the cake. One said he could only have once piece because it was so rich. Which makes me think he wanted a second but his sweet tooth protested. lol. I'll take that as a compliment!
Anyway, attempt two saw me rushing slightly, and screwing up the amounts of baking powder to baking soda. Opps. I tried to fix it, but I don't think that worked perfectly. Add to that that, for once, I followed the recipe and baked the cakes at 300˚F, which left them dented in the centre!! Like, the sides of the cake where higher than the middle!! That's never happened to me before! Totally not hot enough in my oven, obviously! Cause they didn't fall, they never rose! When I tried to take one of the cakes out of the pan it broke in half! That's when I got a good look at the centre and realised it wasn't baked fully or properly. So in the garbage they went!
I was out of sugar, low on milk, low on flour, so I made a run to the local Metro, and then tried again. I was setting everything up when Chris came home. I had the coffee steeping, the flour/dry ingredients mixed and waiting, and was chopping the chocolate.
I swear to all the gods I love, that I am always very, very careful when chopping chocolate! I've chopped more pounds than I can count, and I know just how easy it is for the knife to slip. Only... I was upset, tired, and just plain feeling low. I guess I wasn't paying close enough attention because I sliced through the tip of my thumb but good. *Sigh*
Here's the bandaged thumb, I'll save you all the gory detalis!
It hurt, I won't kid you. But the heartbreaking part was that I'd fucked up yet again. I felt like I couldn't do anything right. I'd messed up the cakes twice now - cakes that I've baked perfectly many times before! It was frustrating, and depressing that when it counted I couldn't manage to get it right. And now I was adding my blood, and tears along with my sweat to the cakes. o.0 NOT literally, they were just spilled in the making! Just in case any of my guests find this. lol. I want to be very clear, the knife was washed before being used again and I didn't get any blood on any of the food. For a clutz I have fast responses, and put pressure on it before it even managed to bleed. I also wore a latex glove over my bandaged hand to make sure there was no way anything would transfer.
I'm really, really, really glad Chris was home. When he realised my yelp meant I'd actually hurt myself - usually my yelp can mean anything from I've dropped a spoon, to I've burnt myself - he came over and hugged me while I cried and hyperventilated. He was patient, and kind, and just let me cry. He didn't pressure me, but let me work through it myself before I spoke again. Then, like the trooper he is, he washed the knife, and finished chopping the chocolate for me, and helped me finish making the cakes. This is made even all the more impressive by the fact that he'd just come off of a hellish week of being on call, where he was literally on calls almost the entire week; the man did not sleep!
So yeah... Third time's a charm! The chocolate cakes came out perfectly this time! And I'm going to modify the recipe so it says 350˚F is what works in my oven!! I also managed to get the coconut cakes done too. They came out just amazing. Yay. So cakes are baked and frozen. Next week I'll need to ice them, and find a way to keep them in the freezer... right now it's quite full (time to eat what's in there!) Chris is going to have to help me with the chopping again, because, honestly, I'm not sure I'm ever going to chop chocolate again.
Cakes all wrapped up and in the freezer! Yay!
Time for a food processor!!!!!!! If anyone has any recommendations for or against any brands/models I'd love to read them!
Anyway, attempt two saw me rushing slightly, and screwing up the amounts of baking powder to baking soda. Opps. I tried to fix it, but I don't think that worked perfectly. Add to that that, for once, I followed the recipe and baked the cakes at 300˚F, which left them dented in the centre!! Like, the sides of the cake where higher than the middle!! That's never happened to me before! Totally not hot enough in my oven, obviously! Cause they didn't fall, they never rose! When I tried to take one of the cakes out of the pan it broke in half! That's when I got a good look at the centre and realised it wasn't baked fully or properly. So in the garbage they went!
I was out of sugar, low on milk, low on flour, so I made a run to the local Metro, and then tried again. I was setting everything up when Chris came home. I had the coffee steeping, the flour/dry ingredients mixed and waiting, and was chopping the chocolate.
I swear to all the gods I love, that I am always very, very careful when chopping chocolate! I've chopped more pounds than I can count, and I know just how easy it is for the knife to slip. Only... I was upset, tired, and just plain feeling low. I guess I wasn't paying close enough attention because I sliced through the tip of my thumb but good. *Sigh*
Here's the bandaged thumb, I'll save you all the gory detalis!
It hurt, I won't kid you. But the heartbreaking part was that I'd fucked up yet again. I felt like I couldn't do anything right. I'd messed up the cakes twice now - cakes that I've baked perfectly many times before! It was frustrating, and depressing that when it counted I couldn't manage to get it right. And now I was adding my blood, and tears along with my sweat to the cakes. o.0 NOT literally, they were just spilled in the making! Just in case any of my guests find this. lol. I want to be very clear, the knife was washed before being used again and I didn't get any blood on any of the food. For a clutz I have fast responses, and put pressure on it before it even managed to bleed. I also wore a latex glove over my bandaged hand to make sure there was no way anything would transfer.
I'm really, really, really glad Chris was home. When he realised my yelp meant I'd actually hurt myself - usually my yelp can mean anything from I've dropped a spoon, to I've burnt myself - he came over and hugged me while I cried and hyperventilated. He was patient, and kind, and just let me cry. He didn't pressure me, but let me work through it myself before I spoke again. Then, like the trooper he is, he washed the knife, and finished chopping the chocolate for me, and helped me finish making the cakes. This is made even all the more impressive by the fact that he'd just come off of a hellish week of being on call, where he was literally on calls almost the entire week; the man did not sleep!
So yeah... Third time's a charm! The chocolate cakes came out perfectly this time! And I'm going to modify the recipe so it says 350˚F is what works in my oven!! I also managed to get the coconut cakes done too. They came out just amazing. Yay. So cakes are baked and frozen. Next week I'll need to ice them, and find a way to keep them in the freezer... right now it's quite full (time to eat what's in there!) Chris is going to have to help me with the chopping again, because, honestly, I'm not sure I'm ever going to chop chocolate again.
Cakes all wrapped up and in the freezer! Yay!
Time for a food processor!!!!!!! If anyone has any recommendations for or against any brands/models I'd love to read them!
Friday, June 4, 2010
Old Friends
Friends come and go, but some just never leave your mind. They pop up randomly when you see something they'd like, or when you're eating at a restaurant you two has always shared, or when you're craving silly time, and remember how much they enjoyed that too. Or just whenever, because I have an obsessive brain, and I miss my friend.
Kim Lyn Ma, where in the world are you!?
I lost you before facebook was even a thing... I can't believe you, of all people, aren't on it. You, who would always ask me for news of our high school compatriots! What better way to find out what they're up to now?!
Why can't I find you?!
Where are you now?
I miss you. :(
Kim Lyn Ma, where in the world are you!?
I lost you before facebook was even a thing... I can't believe you, of all people, aren't on it. You, who would always ask me for news of our high school compatriots! What better way to find out what they're up to now?!
Why can't I find you?!
Where are you now?
I miss you. :(
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Mom
I haven't posted in forever. Honestly, I've been too busy, or too tired for the most part. The last month has been a little crazy for me.
May 26th I was planning to go to Hamilton to visit my parents and get my monthly allergy shot. I get a call from my mom. I didn't answer because, well, I was exhausted and still in bed trying to actually sleep. When I got up, about twenty minutes later, I listened to the message.
My mom called to tell me to bring my keys because her and Pa weren't going to be home - Pa was taking her to the hospital. But I shouldn't worry. She was fine. A little shaky, but that was just nerves. o.0
o.0
I messaged Chris as work, nearly in a panic. Mom hates hospitals, she would not go there on a whim. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I got ready in record time and went to the only hospital I could imagine mom going to - the General. She just told me 'the hospital'. There are lots of hospitals in Hamilton! What if I picked the wrong one? What if they sent her to another? Gah. I went to the General straight from the GO Station. I took a cab. If mom wasn't there, I'd go home and hope she left a note. If not, I'd call every hospital in town until I found her. This was my plan.
Thankfully, she was at the General. I found her in an observation room in Emergency. They had admitted her and swept her away as soon as she arrived. For all the cut backs, sometimes, sometimes they get it very right.
When I talk to mom, she's shocked I came! o.0 Oh mom, she has absolutely no idea how much me all love her. Until I saw her, my heart was in my throat thinking I might have lost her -- not the last time I'd feel that way in this ordeal.
She looked pretty good, she had colour, she was talking, trying to take care of me - she was till my mom. She was still here. whew. But she was shaking. Scared I think really.
She tells me she had a heart attack, Friday night. 2am to 4am, Saturday morning, really. She was in so much pain she was scared to move. She thought she was going to die. She said if she'd had paper and a pen, she'd have written me a letter. o.0 I'm getting married in October, she didn't want me to not have a wedding if she didn't make it through the night. Jesus. She didn't even tell Pa until 11am the next morning!!
She refused to go to the hospital. Her eldest daughter was staying with them, she was going to visit her late husband's family in Calgary Monday, and getting a flight out of Hamilton airport. My Aunt tried to get mom to go to the hospital. Pa tried. No go. Finally they got her to agree to call Dr. Roy, our GP, Monday morning. But she didn't slow down! She went grocery shopping, she did laundry, she went to church, christ, she even vacuumed the living floor Monday morning. o.0
o.0
Pa had to hound her to even get her to call Dr. Roy! Finally she did. Pa then had to push to find out what Dr. Roy said. He told her to go to the hospital. NOW. Yeah. Geez Mom!
So, she's admitted to the hospital, much to her dismay. I stay in Hamilton - of course. Everyone's asking me how long I'm staying. I say, until mom is better. How could I leave?! Also, my Pa is 84. He's more capable than he lets on, but he still doesn't know which meds to take when, or even which are his or mom's. I can't leave him alone! They raised me. I'm not going anywhere until mom's home and okay.
In all this I learn she had a heart attack seven years ago! But it was no where near as bad she says. She did go to the hospital then, but they didn't test her as thoroughly, and said she was fine. o.0 My bet it she wasn't really fine, it just wasn't as obvious then.
They did all kinds of tests. We learn she did have a heart attack, and that there was damage to her heart, but they don't know how much. They schedule a angioplasty for the Wednesday, which was as soon as they could. There was this wonderful young female doctor, I wish I could remember her name! She was amazing. I really liked her. I can picture her face perfectly, but her name, I'm at a loss. doh. I'm not too positive, but I believe she was a cardiac specialist resident. She didn't look more than 28. She was a full doctor, but she had a boss, which is why I'm thinking resident. If she's the future of medicine, we don't have anything to worry about, I tell you what. Smart as a whip, friendly, caring, so so so good at explaining things! Oh, I can't speak well enough of her.
Anyway! The lovely doctor explains that they'll inject a die into one of mom's arteries, and take 'pictures' of her heart to see how it looks. If there is damage/partial blockage to one of her arteries that supplies blood to the heart muscle, which they believe there is, they will put a balloon in to compress the blockage, and then put a stint in to keep it open.
We don't find out until Wednesday night what they did/found. What a long ass day waiting! omg! My Aunt Alice and I go in to see mom Wednesday night. We meet Aunt Christine just leaviing, she's a mess. Crying, distraught. She tells us there is a LOT of damage to mom's heart. Way more than they or we thought. They couldn't fix it that way. But they can do something right, we ask. There has to be something else they can do? Right? Aunt Christine tells us all three of mom's arteries are blocked, and the only option is surgery, but mom doesn't want to do it. We all freaked out. Tears streamed down our faces. We shook. We sobbed. I thought my knees where going to give out. All three? All three blocked? Well she has to do it, I say. We'll convince her Alice and I tell Christine. We're all mom's daughters. We won't lose her. Not without a fight.
Aunt Alice and I wipe away our tears. Blow our noses. Put on our brave faces, and go to see mom. We see the drawing the doctor did of her heart. This doctor being the boss of the wonderful lady I mentioned above. He did the angioplasty. He even came by while we were there to explain to us how blocked her heart is. One of her arteries is blocked solid all the way along. The second is 80% blocked! The third is fully blocked in two places, making it unusable. Her entire heart is running on 20% of the capacity of ONE of her veins. Oh my fucking god. The doctor said they're really surprised she's still waling around. Woah. He said he's done what he can, and has referred mom to a surgeon, who will come talk to her soon.
Mom is still adamant that she doesn't want to do it at this point. She says everyone that has it done spends a year being an invalid, in pain, unable to do anything, then dies. She doesn't want that. My heart was in my throat again. I tell her to at least wait until she hears what the surgeon says before she makes a decision. Aunt Alice tells her about her husband's golf buddy who has had two heart surgeries, ten years apart, and he's fine. He's out playing golf! We try to tell mom medicine has come a long way, it doesn't have to be like that. Aunt Alice reminds her of all the great grandchildren that are going to be born in the next year - 3 more! She wants to be around to see them, doesn't she? I tell her, I'm getting married in October! She has to be there. The only reason I'm having a wedding is - my heart catches in my throat as I try to finish my sentence. I let the tears come and try again. The only reason I'm having a wedding is because I want you there mom, I tell her as I squeeze her hand. We beg her to at least not decide until she talk to the doctor.
I know my mom, if she makes up her mind, she's not going to change it. She's the most stubborn, strong willed person I know. So all I ask of her is not to decide. In my head I pray to Fria. It's been a long time, but she's the only one that's every answered. With all my heart and soul, I pray my mom just listens, just waits to decide until she knows all the facts.
We leave mom hours later, having at least gotten her to promise not to make up her mind until she talks to the doctor. Now we have to go home and tell grandpa. How are we going to tell him, we ask each other. Aunt Alice wants to wait till morning. She doesn't want to worry him. But he's already worried. This is his wife. He's been worried since Saturday morning. I decide, if he's up, we tell him. He has to know.
When we get home, poor Pa is beside himself. We left hours ago! What happened he asks. I say lets go and sit down. I can't tell him standing up. I almost fell down when I heard, I don't want him loosing his feet! So we tell him. He's just as shocked as we are. We all three agree we have to convince her. She has to do it. She just has to. We can't loose her. Pa says he'd be lost without her. And you know, it's so true. They've spent the last 63 years together! I can't even fathom it.
When Pa and I go in the next morning, we're ready for a fight. We are going to convince her. But when we get there, she's already decided she has to do it. Thank the gods. They are keeping her in the hospital - there was some question last night as to what they were going to do with her. They're keeping her until they can do the surgery. They've got it scheduled for Monday afternoon, the soonest they can manage it.
We meet the surgeon on Friday. I say we because it was Aunt Alice, myself, and uncle Russell. He tells us they are going to take veins from mom's legs, and maybe her arms, and replace the blocked arteries. Mom's heart muscle is very strong, but because there is so many blockages, it makes things slightly more risky. Yet again my heart is in my throat waiting for him to tell us the percentages. I'm thinking he'll say there's a 30% chance of her dying. I'm scared, and yet, I'll take those odds. If she doesn't do it, she might live a few days or a few months, but she won't be with us long. Dr. Lami (his name I remember because I saw it written a few times) tells us there is a 5% chance mom could have a heart attack or stroke during the surgery. Only 5%! That's a 95% chance of success I tell mom! That's great! I'll take those odds!
Mom seemed pretty stable, so I go home to visit Chris. I'd called him every night. I fell apart talking to him more than once. He was my rock. He tole me I was his wife. In sickness and in health. That's what he was there for. Sweet man. I needed to see him. I needed to spend some times with my friends. I felt a lot better coming home Sunday after some time with my beloved. He even came home with me to see my mommy. I told him he didn't have to. He said I sounded just like my mom (who I had been complaining was trying to take care of everyone but herself). Yeah. Caught. So he came home with me.
Everyone came to visit mom that Sunday. Alice, her hubby, her eldest son and his girlfriend. Christine and her youngest son, her eldest daughter, her hubby and daughter had already been in I believe. Her daughter Beatrice who hadn't really been talking to mom for. well, years. How good it was to see her there! I know just how much it meant to mom. Even two of mom's great-grandchildren who were visiting Hamilton, came in. Heck, even one of her daughters that lives in New Brunswick, came up with her husband to see mom!!
Monday Morning Aunt Alice came over around 9am, saying she was going to the hospital to see mom, she couldn't wait any longer. Pa went up with Rick and Doris (our N.B. travellers). Aunt Alice had said she was going to come back. I wasn't in a hurry. I'm just so not a morning person. But I was ready by 10 am, and wondering if Aunt Alice really was coming back. I had the phone in my hand and was looking for her cell number when she called. She said they were prepping mom for surgery and if I wanted to see her I better hurry. I called a cab as soon as I hung up with here. Heart in my throat again. I was feeling like it might just take up permanent residence there. I just had to see her. I had to. Oh gods. I couldn't miss her.
When I got to the hospital, I asked Information where she was, in case they'd moved her. I went to the bank of the slowest moving elevators I've ever had to deal with. There was none near the main floor. Screw this, I thought. It's only two floor ups, I can do those stairs. I have bad knees. Stairs in general just don't like me. On bad days my knees scream even going down, and up is always worse. But I just didn't care. I had to see my mom. I could take a little pain, hell, I could take a lot. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could. It took all I had not to run through the hallways. Actually, I was pretty winded, the main floor and one above it are extra tall, so it was more like three flights of stairs.
Mom was just coming out of the bathroom when I got there. She'd just had a bath. They already had the bed in the hall that they were taking her downstairs to surgery in! Jeez! Aunt Alice apologized for leaving me. She's such a sweetheart. She felt bad I was left without a way to the hospital. That's what cabs are for I told her. It's no big deal. I got to give my mom a hug. That's what was important. I told her she was the bravest woman I know. Alice, Pa, Doris and I all got to take the huge patient elevator downstairs with mom. Pa and I went into the surgery prep room and said our "I love you"s.
You know, if mom hadn't been in the hospital that weekend we would have lost her then. She had a few small attacks over the weekend. But she was getting better at telling the nurses when she had a problem. In the week she'd been in the hospital there had been an army of Hazeltons come to visit her. And we all told her the same thing: you have to TELL US when something is wrong! Geez. So she was slowly getting better at it. It's a hard habit to break. I have it too, I know. But things work out better when you tell people you aren't feeling well. Especially when you are in the hospital - they can do something about it.
They kicked us out at 1pm. They asked who the representative for the family was going to be when Pa and I were with her. I looked at mom. I said, she's always our rep. Who do you want mom, I asked. She said I better do it. Usually it would be the husband, but Pa is hard of hearing, and can't understand people with accents, like at all. It's best to be me. Same number, and then I can tell him, and everyone else. They tell us Dr. Lami will come see us in the heart investigation waiting room, at 5pm. We plan to be back there by 4:30pm. We don't want to miss him!
Alice, Pa and I end up arriving by 4:20pm. Just before 5pm Doris, Rick and Jean(another of mom's daughters) show up. Uncle Russell shows up just after 5pm. Our doctor is a no show, but we learn they didn't take her into surgery until 2pm, an hour later than planned. Richard, Aunt Barb's youngest arrives around 6pm. Felicia, Aunt Chistine's eldest daughter, arrives just after him. At 6:40pm, Dr. Lami finally comes to see us. He tells us the surgery went 'reasonably well'. Mom is being prepped for a blood transfusion. She's a little woman, with little veins, it was technically challenging, Dr. Lami said, but he's happy with the results. When can we see her, we all want to know. He said we should wait 40 minutes or so for them to to the transfusion and move her to the ICU. Then we can go to the ICU waiting room and call ICU West to see if we can see her. But only two of us can go in at a time he warns us.
Richard leaves, he has to go take care of his family. I can't remember if Felicia left just after him or not. Doh. Aunt Christine found us at some point. I think we'd moved to the ICU waiting room by the time she caught up with us. After we got the news Jean and Doris went for a walk. I think Alice and Pa just went to the other waiting room. I went for some food, I was freaking staring, and I had to take my meds. Taking them on an empty stomach would have been a bad idea. I wanted to call Chris, but I don't have a cell phone, I couldn't remember our 905 number, and calling our 416 would be $5 on a pay phone. And I really didn't feel comfy sticking my VISA in a pay phone.
We called 45 minutes after seeing Dr. Lami. They were still working with mom, and we couldn't see her. They asked us to call back in another 40 minutes. When we called back, they let us all come in to see her. She was in a bed near a window. She had tubes down her throat. She had needles hooked into her, and tubes everywhere. She was covered in this odd moving blanket. She was soooooo swollen. None of us had ever seen her look like this before. Pa nearly fell over when he saw her. Thank goodness he had three of his girls beside him. They kept him standing. All them with tears in their eyes, streaming down their face. It occured to me then that they were all the same height, the same small frame. I wasn't crying. She was still with us! She was here. She made it. The ICU nurse explained the odd blanket was keeping her warm with warm air. She'd had two blood transfusions. She was on lots of drugs, for pain, to help her heart work, all sorts. The nurse said she'd woken up, and squeezed their hand when they asked, and that now she was resting - they'd put her out.
Her first night was a little rough. Tuesday morning they did more tests, and found out that either during or soon after her surgery she'd had another attack and had done damage to the back of her heart. She was on lots of drugs to let her heart rest as much as it could, so her heart could heal. Scared. So very very scared. I didn't find all this out until Tuesday night or was it Wednesday? I think it was Wednesday that I learned all this. Yes, Wednesday. She was still the same, still needing lots of support. Still with the damaged heart. Jesus.
I was so scared I called Chris with no pretense even of not crying. I was so scared I was going to lose her. After all this and we were going to lose her. I couldn't lose her! I just couldn't. Heart in my throat. Tears streaming down my face. I needed him. I asked Chris to come to Hamilton, or maybe I begged, my heart was begging, I'm not sure what words were coming out; if he could swing it with work, that is. I was so scared. So very very scared.
I think it was Thursday when Chris came down to see mom. Pa and I went to the hospital in the morning and Chris met me there. We went up to see mom. He told mom he wanted her at his wedding, that he was expecting her there. She squeezed his hand. She was still hooked up to so many tubes, and that horrible tube down her throat! But she was doing better. She was stable now.
I didn't go home that weekend, Chris was sick. But mom had her tube out of her throat by Friday, and was telling me to go! I was not about to risk getting sick. I told her I was staying and why so she wouldn't worry about me. She's all hooked up, just had open heart surgery, and she's worried about me! That's my mom. I love her, and sometimes she makes me crazy.
It was a full week before she was out of ICU. But by that Saturday she was home! I left Friday to visit Chris. Mom had said they didn't think they were letting her out until next week, but she called me Saturday afternoon to tell me she was home! She told me Alice was there, did some laundry, had bought her some groceries, and that she didn't want for anything. So I came home Sunday as planned. You know, I was shocked to see her up and walking around the house. Go mom!
She's still recovering. It's a long ass road. I've been spending my weekends in Toronto and my weeks in Hamilton taking care of my parents as much as they'll let me. Mom can shower all by herself, cook dinner for her and Pa, fill both their pill cases, order prescription refills, all sorts, but she isn't leaving the house, she not that well yet. I think she's doing great! All I really do is get groceries, and do laundry, as that's in the basement.
We're working on plan to get the washer and dryer upstairs. I am finally moving out of my bedroom. Really, we're just playing tetris with the house. Most of my clothes and stuff are going up into the attic. I'm giving Pa my chair, TV, VCR, and DVD player, and letting him borrow the armour it's in. I think at some point I might want the armour back, but that might not be for many years. We're going to take apart my bed, put the frame up int he attic, and the mattress in what is no Pa's room. He'll get my room. And his room can be a pantry/laundry room I think. So much to do. Mom is thinking we don't need to move stuff up from downstairs, but frig, when I'm there I go up and down those stairs about 14 times a day! She can't be doing that. Dr. Lami said when she came home she wouldn't have any restrictions on what she could do, but how well she is makes restrictions. I'm not sure she can handle doing that many stairs! And why should she if she doesn't have to? So yeah, that's where I've been for the past month.
I have always been very very grateful to have my parents as my parents. They took me in when they didn't have to. They loved me and raised me like their own. They spoiled me, loved me, and taught me how to love, and what was really important in life. I'm so very lucky to have them. And after all this, I feel even more lucky. My mommy is going to be at my wedding. My guest of honour.
I told Chris, when we can, I want to donate to the Canadian Heart and Stroke Foundation. And I want to keep doing it. If it wasn't for them, for organizations like them, my mom would not be with us. There just isn't anything more valuable to me. I still have my mommy. And I'm hoping I'll get to keep her for many more years to come.
May 26th I was planning to go to Hamilton to visit my parents and get my monthly allergy shot. I get a call from my mom. I didn't answer because, well, I was exhausted and still in bed trying to actually sleep. When I got up, about twenty minutes later, I listened to the message.
My mom called to tell me to bring my keys because her and Pa weren't going to be home - Pa was taking her to the hospital. But I shouldn't worry. She was fine. A little shaky, but that was just nerves. o.0
o.0
I messaged Chris as work, nearly in a panic. Mom hates hospitals, she would not go there on a whim. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I got ready in record time and went to the only hospital I could imagine mom going to - the General. She just told me 'the hospital'. There are lots of hospitals in Hamilton! What if I picked the wrong one? What if they sent her to another? Gah. I went to the General straight from the GO Station. I took a cab. If mom wasn't there, I'd go home and hope she left a note. If not, I'd call every hospital in town until I found her. This was my plan.
Thankfully, she was at the General. I found her in an observation room in Emergency. They had admitted her and swept her away as soon as she arrived. For all the cut backs, sometimes, sometimes they get it very right.
When I talk to mom, she's shocked I came! o.0 Oh mom, she has absolutely no idea how much me all love her. Until I saw her, my heart was in my throat thinking I might have lost her -- not the last time I'd feel that way in this ordeal.
She looked pretty good, she had colour, she was talking, trying to take care of me - she was till my mom. She was still here. whew. But she was shaking. Scared I think really.
She tells me she had a heart attack, Friday night. 2am to 4am, Saturday morning, really. She was in so much pain she was scared to move. She thought she was going to die. She said if she'd had paper and a pen, she'd have written me a letter. o.0 I'm getting married in October, she didn't want me to not have a wedding if she didn't make it through the night. Jesus. She didn't even tell Pa until 11am the next morning!!
She refused to go to the hospital. Her eldest daughter was staying with them, she was going to visit her late husband's family in Calgary Monday, and getting a flight out of Hamilton airport. My Aunt tried to get mom to go to the hospital. Pa tried. No go. Finally they got her to agree to call Dr. Roy, our GP, Monday morning. But she didn't slow down! She went grocery shopping, she did laundry, she went to church, christ, she even vacuumed the living floor Monday morning. o.0
o.0
Pa had to hound her to even get her to call Dr. Roy! Finally she did. Pa then had to push to find out what Dr. Roy said. He told her to go to the hospital. NOW. Yeah. Geez Mom!
So, she's admitted to the hospital, much to her dismay. I stay in Hamilton - of course. Everyone's asking me how long I'm staying. I say, until mom is better. How could I leave?! Also, my Pa is 84. He's more capable than he lets on, but he still doesn't know which meds to take when, or even which are his or mom's. I can't leave him alone! They raised me. I'm not going anywhere until mom's home and okay.
In all this I learn she had a heart attack seven years ago! But it was no where near as bad she says. She did go to the hospital then, but they didn't test her as thoroughly, and said she was fine. o.0 My bet it she wasn't really fine, it just wasn't as obvious then.
They did all kinds of tests. We learn she did have a heart attack, and that there was damage to her heart, but they don't know how much. They schedule a angioplasty for the Wednesday, which was as soon as they could. There was this wonderful young female doctor, I wish I could remember her name! She was amazing. I really liked her. I can picture her face perfectly, but her name, I'm at a loss. doh. I'm not too positive, but I believe she was a cardiac specialist resident. She didn't look more than 28. She was a full doctor, but she had a boss, which is why I'm thinking resident. If she's the future of medicine, we don't have anything to worry about, I tell you what. Smart as a whip, friendly, caring, so so so good at explaining things! Oh, I can't speak well enough of her.
Anyway! The lovely doctor explains that they'll inject a die into one of mom's arteries, and take 'pictures' of her heart to see how it looks. If there is damage/partial blockage to one of her arteries that supplies blood to the heart muscle, which they believe there is, they will put a balloon in to compress the blockage, and then put a stint in to keep it open.
We don't find out until Wednesday night what they did/found. What a long ass day waiting! omg! My Aunt Alice and I go in to see mom Wednesday night. We meet Aunt Christine just leaviing, she's a mess. Crying, distraught. She tells us there is a LOT of damage to mom's heart. Way more than they or we thought. They couldn't fix it that way. But they can do something right, we ask. There has to be something else they can do? Right? Aunt Christine tells us all three of mom's arteries are blocked, and the only option is surgery, but mom doesn't want to do it. We all freaked out. Tears streamed down our faces. We shook. We sobbed. I thought my knees where going to give out. All three? All three blocked? Well she has to do it, I say. We'll convince her Alice and I tell Christine. We're all mom's daughters. We won't lose her. Not without a fight.
Aunt Alice and I wipe away our tears. Blow our noses. Put on our brave faces, and go to see mom. We see the drawing the doctor did of her heart. This doctor being the boss of the wonderful lady I mentioned above. He did the angioplasty. He even came by while we were there to explain to us how blocked her heart is. One of her arteries is blocked solid all the way along. The second is 80% blocked! The third is fully blocked in two places, making it unusable. Her entire heart is running on 20% of the capacity of ONE of her veins. Oh my fucking god. The doctor said they're really surprised she's still waling around. Woah. He said he's done what he can, and has referred mom to a surgeon, who will come talk to her soon.
Mom is still adamant that she doesn't want to do it at this point. She says everyone that has it done spends a year being an invalid, in pain, unable to do anything, then dies. She doesn't want that. My heart was in my throat again. I tell her to at least wait until she hears what the surgeon says before she makes a decision. Aunt Alice tells her about her husband's golf buddy who has had two heart surgeries, ten years apart, and he's fine. He's out playing golf! We try to tell mom medicine has come a long way, it doesn't have to be like that. Aunt Alice reminds her of all the great grandchildren that are going to be born in the next year - 3 more! She wants to be around to see them, doesn't she? I tell her, I'm getting married in October! She has to be there. The only reason I'm having a wedding is - my heart catches in my throat as I try to finish my sentence. I let the tears come and try again. The only reason I'm having a wedding is because I want you there mom, I tell her as I squeeze her hand. We beg her to at least not decide until she talk to the doctor.
I know my mom, if she makes up her mind, she's not going to change it. She's the most stubborn, strong willed person I know. So all I ask of her is not to decide. In my head I pray to Fria. It's been a long time, but she's the only one that's every answered. With all my heart and soul, I pray my mom just listens, just waits to decide until she knows all the facts.
We leave mom hours later, having at least gotten her to promise not to make up her mind until she talks to the doctor. Now we have to go home and tell grandpa. How are we going to tell him, we ask each other. Aunt Alice wants to wait till morning. She doesn't want to worry him. But he's already worried. This is his wife. He's been worried since Saturday morning. I decide, if he's up, we tell him. He has to know.
When we get home, poor Pa is beside himself. We left hours ago! What happened he asks. I say lets go and sit down. I can't tell him standing up. I almost fell down when I heard, I don't want him loosing his feet! So we tell him. He's just as shocked as we are. We all three agree we have to convince her. She has to do it. She just has to. We can't loose her. Pa says he'd be lost without her. And you know, it's so true. They've spent the last 63 years together! I can't even fathom it.
When Pa and I go in the next morning, we're ready for a fight. We are going to convince her. But when we get there, she's already decided she has to do it. Thank the gods. They are keeping her in the hospital - there was some question last night as to what they were going to do with her. They're keeping her until they can do the surgery. They've got it scheduled for Monday afternoon, the soonest they can manage it.
We meet the surgeon on Friday. I say we because it was Aunt Alice, myself, and uncle Russell. He tells us they are going to take veins from mom's legs, and maybe her arms, and replace the blocked arteries. Mom's heart muscle is very strong, but because there is so many blockages, it makes things slightly more risky. Yet again my heart is in my throat waiting for him to tell us the percentages. I'm thinking he'll say there's a 30% chance of her dying. I'm scared, and yet, I'll take those odds. If she doesn't do it, she might live a few days or a few months, but she won't be with us long. Dr. Lami (his name I remember because I saw it written a few times) tells us there is a 5% chance mom could have a heart attack or stroke during the surgery. Only 5%! That's a 95% chance of success I tell mom! That's great! I'll take those odds!
Mom seemed pretty stable, so I go home to visit Chris. I'd called him every night. I fell apart talking to him more than once. He was my rock. He tole me I was his wife. In sickness and in health. That's what he was there for. Sweet man. I needed to see him. I needed to spend some times with my friends. I felt a lot better coming home Sunday after some time with my beloved. He even came home with me to see my mommy. I told him he didn't have to. He said I sounded just like my mom (who I had been complaining was trying to take care of everyone but herself). Yeah. Caught. So he came home with me.
Everyone came to visit mom that Sunday. Alice, her hubby, her eldest son and his girlfriend. Christine and her youngest son, her eldest daughter, her hubby and daughter had already been in I believe. Her daughter Beatrice who hadn't really been talking to mom for. well, years. How good it was to see her there! I know just how much it meant to mom. Even two of mom's great-grandchildren who were visiting Hamilton, came in. Heck, even one of her daughters that lives in New Brunswick, came up with her husband to see mom!!
Monday Morning Aunt Alice came over around 9am, saying she was going to the hospital to see mom, she couldn't wait any longer. Pa went up with Rick and Doris (our N.B. travellers). Aunt Alice had said she was going to come back. I wasn't in a hurry. I'm just so not a morning person. But I was ready by 10 am, and wondering if Aunt Alice really was coming back. I had the phone in my hand and was looking for her cell number when she called. She said they were prepping mom for surgery and if I wanted to see her I better hurry. I called a cab as soon as I hung up with here. Heart in my throat again. I was feeling like it might just take up permanent residence there. I just had to see her. I had to. Oh gods. I couldn't miss her.
When I got to the hospital, I asked Information where she was, in case they'd moved her. I went to the bank of the slowest moving elevators I've ever had to deal with. There was none near the main floor. Screw this, I thought. It's only two floor ups, I can do those stairs. I have bad knees. Stairs in general just don't like me. On bad days my knees scream even going down, and up is always worse. But I just didn't care. I had to see my mom. I could take a little pain, hell, I could take a lot. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could. It took all I had not to run through the hallways. Actually, I was pretty winded, the main floor and one above it are extra tall, so it was more like three flights of stairs.
Mom was just coming out of the bathroom when I got there. She'd just had a bath. They already had the bed in the hall that they were taking her downstairs to surgery in! Jeez! Aunt Alice apologized for leaving me. She's such a sweetheart. She felt bad I was left without a way to the hospital. That's what cabs are for I told her. It's no big deal. I got to give my mom a hug. That's what was important. I told her she was the bravest woman I know. Alice, Pa, Doris and I all got to take the huge patient elevator downstairs with mom. Pa and I went into the surgery prep room and said our "I love you"s.
You know, if mom hadn't been in the hospital that weekend we would have lost her then. She had a few small attacks over the weekend. But she was getting better at telling the nurses when she had a problem. In the week she'd been in the hospital there had been an army of Hazeltons come to visit her. And we all told her the same thing: you have to TELL US when something is wrong! Geez. So she was slowly getting better at it. It's a hard habit to break. I have it too, I know. But things work out better when you tell people you aren't feeling well. Especially when you are in the hospital - they can do something about it.
They kicked us out at 1pm. They asked who the representative for the family was going to be when Pa and I were with her. I looked at mom. I said, she's always our rep. Who do you want mom, I asked. She said I better do it. Usually it would be the husband, but Pa is hard of hearing, and can't understand people with accents, like at all. It's best to be me. Same number, and then I can tell him, and everyone else. They tell us Dr. Lami will come see us in the heart investigation waiting room, at 5pm. We plan to be back there by 4:30pm. We don't want to miss him!
Alice, Pa and I end up arriving by 4:20pm. Just before 5pm Doris, Rick and Jean(another of mom's daughters) show up. Uncle Russell shows up just after 5pm. Our doctor is a no show, but we learn they didn't take her into surgery until 2pm, an hour later than planned. Richard, Aunt Barb's youngest arrives around 6pm. Felicia, Aunt Chistine's eldest daughter, arrives just after him. At 6:40pm, Dr. Lami finally comes to see us. He tells us the surgery went 'reasonably well'. Mom is being prepped for a blood transfusion. She's a little woman, with little veins, it was technically challenging, Dr. Lami said, but he's happy with the results. When can we see her, we all want to know. He said we should wait 40 minutes or so for them to to the transfusion and move her to the ICU. Then we can go to the ICU waiting room and call ICU West to see if we can see her. But only two of us can go in at a time he warns us.
Richard leaves, he has to go take care of his family. I can't remember if Felicia left just after him or not. Doh. Aunt Christine found us at some point. I think we'd moved to the ICU waiting room by the time she caught up with us. After we got the news Jean and Doris went for a walk. I think Alice and Pa just went to the other waiting room. I went for some food, I was freaking staring, and I had to take my meds. Taking them on an empty stomach would have been a bad idea. I wanted to call Chris, but I don't have a cell phone, I couldn't remember our 905 number, and calling our 416 would be $5 on a pay phone. And I really didn't feel comfy sticking my VISA in a pay phone.
We called 45 minutes after seeing Dr. Lami. They were still working with mom, and we couldn't see her. They asked us to call back in another 40 minutes. When we called back, they let us all come in to see her. She was in a bed near a window. She had tubes down her throat. She had needles hooked into her, and tubes everywhere. She was covered in this odd moving blanket. She was soooooo swollen. None of us had ever seen her look like this before. Pa nearly fell over when he saw her. Thank goodness he had three of his girls beside him. They kept him standing. All them with tears in their eyes, streaming down their face. It occured to me then that they were all the same height, the same small frame. I wasn't crying. She was still with us! She was here. She made it. The ICU nurse explained the odd blanket was keeping her warm with warm air. She'd had two blood transfusions. She was on lots of drugs, for pain, to help her heart work, all sorts. The nurse said she'd woken up, and squeezed their hand when they asked, and that now she was resting - they'd put her out.
Her first night was a little rough. Tuesday morning they did more tests, and found out that either during or soon after her surgery she'd had another attack and had done damage to the back of her heart. She was on lots of drugs to let her heart rest as much as it could, so her heart could heal. Scared. So very very scared. I didn't find all this out until Tuesday night or was it Wednesday? I think it was Wednesday that I learned all this. Yes, Wednesday. She was still the same, still needing lots of support. Still with the damaged heart. Jesus.
I was so scared I called Chris with no pretense even of not crying. I was so scared I was going to lose her. After all this and we were going to lose her. I couldn't lose her! I just couldn't. Heart in my throat. Tears streaming down my face. I needed him. I asked Chris to come to Hamilton, or maybe I begged, my heart was begging, I'm not sure what words were coming out; if he could swing it with work, that is. I was so scared. So very very scared.
I think it was Thursday when Chris came down to see mom. Pa and I went to the hospital in the morning and Chris met me there. We went up to see mom. He told mom he wanted her at his wedding, that he was expecting her there. She squeezed his hand. She was still hooked up to so many tubes, and that horrible tube down her throat! But she was doing better. She was stable now.
I didn't go home that weekend, Chris was sick. But mom had her tube out of her throat by Friday, and was telling me to go! I was not about to risk getting sick. I told her I was staying and why so she wouldn't worry about me. She's all hooked up, just had open heart surgery, and she's worried about me! That's my mom. I love her, and sometimes she makes me crazy.
It was a full week before she was out of ICU. But by that Saturday she was home! I left Friday to visit Chris. Mom had said they didn't think they were letting her out until next week, but she called me Saturday afternoon to tell me she was home! She told me Alice was there, did some laundry, had bought her some groceries, and that she didn't want for anything. So I came home Sunday as planned. You know, I was shocked to see her up and walking around the house. Go mom!
She's still recovering. It's a long ass road. I've been spending my weekends in Toronto and my weeks in Hamilton taking care of my parents as much as they'll let me. Mom can shower all by herself, cook dinner for her and Pa, fill both their pill cases, order prescription refills, all sorts, but she isn't leaving the house, she not that well yet. I think she's doing great! All I really do is get groceries, and do laundry, as that's in the basement.
We're working on plan to get the washer and dryer upstairs. I am finally moving out of my bedroom. Really, we're just playing tetris with the house. Most of my clothes and stuff are going up into the attic. I'm giving Pa my chair, TV, VCR, and DVD player, and letting him borrow the armour it's in. I think at some point I might want the armour back, but that might not be for many years. We're going to take apart my bed, put the frame up int he attic, and the mattress in what is no Pa's room. He'll get my room. And his room can be a pantry/laundry room I think. So much to do. Mom is thinking we don't need to move stuff up from downstairs, but frig, when I'm there I go up and down those stairs about 14 times a day! She can't be doing that. Dr. Lami said when she came home she wouldn't have any restrictions on what she could do, but how well she is makes restrictions. I'm not sure she can handle doing that many stairs! And why should she if she doesn't have to? So yeah, that's where I've been for the past month.
I have always been very very grateful to have my parents as my parents. They took me in when they didn't have to. They loved me and raised me like their own. They spoiled me, loved me, and taught me how to love, and what was really important in life. I'm so very lucky to have them. And after all this, I feel even more lucky. My mommy is going to be at my wedding. My guest of honour.
I told Chris, when we can, I want to donate to the Canadian Heart and Stroke Foundation. And I want to keep doing it. If it wasn't for them, for organizations like them, my mom would not be with us. There just isn't anything more valuable to me. I still have my mommy. And I'm hoping I'll get to keep her for many more years to come.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Wedding Dress Woes
I knew it wouldn't be easy finding a dress. My size alone makes it hard. Add to that I really want a red Taffeta dress. Almost no one has any dresses in anything even remotely my size, and the ones that 'fit' or are close.. well many are just so not my style. There are very few I've liked so far. *sigh*
There is one dress I've just fallen in love with by Mori Lee (well, except for the rose, and funky thing hanging from it):
But in going to a Bridal store today with Neda, we saw Mori Lee's swatches, and the red Taffeta is just not shiny or irridescent like the other colours. :( Boo! So even if I ordered it, I wouldn't be happy, because the fabric wouldn't be what I want.
I feel like I've looked at/tried on quite a few dresses, and nothing is just right, or perhaps even right enough. I'm beginning to worry that I'm just being too picky and am falling into the trap of being a 'princess'. *sigh* I do not want to be a princess, damnit. I want to be able to try something on, like it well enough, and think "This'll do". But every time I try something on, it's just "meh".
As I look, I'm realising more and more, that I do know what I want, and that is making it much harder for me. I really do want Taffeta. I love Taffeta. All the dresses that catch my eye are either Taffeta or raw silk, which shines similarly. As for style, I want some kind of ruching or pleat on the bust, a high waist, preferably with a ruched belt, and a full (we're talking semi-circle of fabric here) skirt. I really want tea-length (aka mid calf), because then I can potentially wear this dress again. I'm honestly not sure what kind of neckline would be best, however.
I'm just... I'm so torn. On one hand I think I should just settle/be happy with... simple, off-the-rack, and under $300. On the other, I want what I want, and I'm horribly tempted to look into getting a dress custom made. Chris told me before I went shopping in the states with the girls, for me not to get upset/sad if I didn't find anything; I could just have something made; even if it would be more money, I'd get the dress I'd want, I'd be happy, and I'm worth it. Isn't that sweet? I really am very lucky to be so well loved. :D
When looking for dresses online previously, I found Lisa Van Hattem and I kinda fell in love with her and her website. I don't know, something really struck me. She seems so friendly, and all the dresses on her site and her blog are so lovely. But one thousand dollars?? I'm really not sure I can stomach paying that for a freaking dress. I mean, even as much as I say I'd like to be able to wear my dress again, I'm really not sure if I'll ever actually get another chance, and paying $1000 or more for something I'm only going to wear once just seems so ridiculous. This is part of why I wanted to go with a 'bridesmaid' style dress in the first place!
In the past week, Neda and Sabrina have come dress shopping with me, which I really appreciate. We had fun! Imagine! And I hate clothes shopping generally too. Today Neda took me/came with me to a couple places around Toronto. Not much luck, but worth it, as I got to see thw Mori Lee swatches. Going dress shopping alone would really be no fun at all. It'd be downright depressing, especially with the luck I've had.
I think next week I'm going to get Sabrina to take me in to Rainbow in Hamilton, see what they have. You never know. Then maybe I'll decide about the custom route. I'm just not cut out for all this running around - I'm exhausted! Damn Fibro is so kicking my ass energy-level-wise.
There is one dress I've just fallen in love with by Mori Lee (well, except for the rose, and funky thing hanging from it):
But in going to a Bridal store today with Neda, we saw Mori Lee's swatches, and the red Taffeta is just not shiny or irridescent like the other colours. :( Boo! So even if I ordered it, I wouldn't be happy, because the fabric wouldn't be what I want.
I feel like I've looked at/tried on quite a few dresses, and nothing is just right, or perhaps even right enough. I'm beginning to worry that I'm just being too picky and am falling into the trap of being a 'princess'. *sigh* I do not want to be a princess, damnit. I want to be able to try something on, like it well enough, and think "This'll do". But every time I try something on, it's just "meh".
As I look, I'm realising more and more, that I do know what I want, and that is making it much harder for me. I really do want Taffeta. I love Taffeta. All the dresses that catch my eye are either Taffeta or raw silk, which shines similarly. As for style, I want some kind of ruching or pleat on the bust, a high waist, preferably with a ruched belt, and a full (we're talking semi-circle of fabric here) skirt. I really want tea-length (aka mid calf), because then I can potentially wear this dress again. I'm honestly not sure what kind of neckline would be best, however.
I'm just... I'm so torn. On one hand I think I should just settle/be happy with... simple, off-the-rack, and under $300. On the other, I want what I want, and I'm horribly tempted to look into getting a dress custom made. Chris told me before I went shopping in the states with the girls, for me not to get upset/sad if I didn't find anything; I could just have something made; even if it would be more money, I'd get the dress I'd want, I'd be happy, and I'm worth it. Isn't that sweet? I really am very lucky to be so well loved. :D
When looking for dresses online previously, I found Lisa Van Hattem and I kinda fell in love with her and her website. I don't know, something really struck me. She seems so friendly, and all the dresses on her site and her blog are so lovely. But one thousand dollars?? I'm really not sure I can stomach paying that for a freaking dress. I mean, even as much as I say I'd like to be able to wear my dress again, I'm really not sure if I'll ever actually get another chance, and paying $1000 or more for something I'm only going to wear once just seems so ridiculous. This is part of why I wanted to go with a 'bridesmaid' style dress in the first place!
In the past week, Neda and Sabrina have come dress shopping with me, which I really appreciate. We had fun! Imagine! And I hate clothes shopping generally too. Today Neda took me/came with me to a couple places around Toronto. Not much luck, but worth it, as I got to see thw Mori Lee swatches. Going dress shopping alone would really be no fun at all. It'd be downright depressing, especially with the luck I've had.
I think next week I'm going to get Sabrina to take me in to Rainbow in Hamilton, see what they have. You never know. Then maybe I'll decide about the custom route. I'm just not cut out for all this running around - I'm exhausted! Damn Fibro is so kicking my ass energy-level-wise.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Living with Fibromyalgia
It's been a month and a bit since I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. My doctor has given me a drug to try to manage my pain - a half dose of Cymbalta. Overall I really think it's helping. When I look back/read part blog entries, and I think about how riddled with pain I was, it's like night and day to now. I still get sore, I still have sinus headaches occasionally, and migraines randomly, but I'm not in pain 24/7. I'm not so sore that I spend days in bed crying. I'm still really tired. I get tired easily. I take a long time to recover/regain energy when I exert myself. But overall, huge improvement.
I can go out with friends. I was up till 4 am new years eve! I slept in till noon! noon! Slept like a rock! Like my old self! I've glowed on occasion even! I'm so so much happier. I feel a lot more like my old self. So much so that I've recently started beating myself up mentally for being so stupidly tired. My brain is ready to go, it wants to do things, and my body lags. It says "I want to stay in bed! I'm tired! Lets do nothing today!" And I find myself wondering, all over again, why am I sore, why am I so damn tired, what's wrong with me? Oh yeah, I have Fibromyalgia. It kicks your ass. It's not my fault. I also am either getting over a cold or have a sinus infection, I can't tell which, but both are very draining for me. So yeah. Life is so much better. Many days I even forget I have a chronic illness. How sweet is that?
Chris is so good to me. So so good. He takes care of me when I'm just not feeling up to it. He's been on vacation, and totally spoiling me. Cooking for me, doing dishes, buying groceries. I really appreciate the help. Especially on days like today when my body just feels heavy and tired, and sore. Not epic sore, but my knees hurt when I stand/walk, and I know if I had had to go for groceries I'd have been in agony by the time I got back. He's also the voice of reason so very often. He's the one telling me it's okay that I'm tired, that I've been doing a lot, that he doesn't mind getting groceries or making dinner, it's okay that I need to rest. I need to hear that. I have this horrible habit of beating myself up when I can't do the things I think I should be able to, that I was once able to.
Perhaps this will sound crazy, but I honestly do forget it's not my fault. I think, why can't I do these things? What's wrong with me? Like somehow it's my fault. But it's not my fault. I have Fibromyalgia, for pete's sake. I have a chronic illness, and it takes it's toll on me in a whole host of ways. It's not my fault. There is nothing I've done to contract it. There is nothing I could have done to stop if from developing. Even if there was, I had no way of knowing, neither does the medical community, for that matter. It is what it is, and I've got to learn to live with it. I have to learn to stop blaming myself, stop beating myself up for not living up to my own expectations. Chris is wonderful for this. Every time he says it's okay, I hear "it's not your fault, I don't blame you" and it sinks in a little deeper. It's okay to have tired days, or slow days, or bad days. I can't help it. He's not going to stop loving me because of any of it. I'm not ruining his life. I'm not wasting mine. I don't have the words for how much that means to me. I'm so very happy I get to keep him. I really really am. He's such a good man.
I can go out with friends. I was up till 4 am new years eve! I slept in till noon! noon! Slept like a rock! Like my old self! I've glowed on occasion even! I'm so so much happier. I feel a lot more like my old self. So much so that I've recently started beating myself up mentally for being so stupidly tired. My brain is ready to go, it wants to do things, and my body lags. It says "I want to stay in bed! I'm tired! Lets do nothing today!" And I find myself wondering, all over again, why am I sore, why am I so damn tired, what's wrong with me? Oh yeah, I have Fibromyalgia. It kicks your ass. It's not my fault. I also am either getting over a cold or have a sinus infection, I can't tell which, but both are very draining for me. So yeah. Life is so much better. Many days I even forget I have a chronic illness. How sweet is that?
Chris is so good to me. So so good. He takes care of me when I'm just not feeling up to it. He's been on vacation, and totally spoiling me. Cooking for me, doing dishes, buying groceries. I really appreciate the help. Especially on days like today when my body just feels heavy and tired, and sore. Not epic sore, but my knees hurt when I stand/walk, and I know if I had had to go for groceries I'd have been in agony by the time I got back. He's also the voice of reason so very often. He's the one telling me it's okay that I'm tired, that I've been doing a lot, that he doesn't mind getting groceries or making dinner, it's okay that I need to rest. I need to hear that. I have this horrible habit of beating myself up when I can't do the things I think I should be able to, that I was once able to.
Perhaps this will sound crazy, but I honestly do forget it's not my fault. I think, why can't I do these things? What's wrong with me? Like somehow it's my fault. But it's not my fault. I have Fibromyalgia, for pete's sake. I have a chronic illness, and it takes it's toll on me in a whole host of ways. It's not my fault. There is nothing I've done to contract it. There is nothing I could have done to stop if from developing. Even if there was, I had no way of knowing, neither does the medical community, for that matter. It is what it is, and I've got to learn to live with it. I have to learn to stop blaming myself, stop beating myself up for not living up to my own expectations. Chris is wonderful for this. Every time he says it's okay, I hear "it's not your fault, I don't blame you" and it sinks in a little deeper. It's okay to have tired days, or slow days, or bad days. I can't help it. He's not going to stop loving me because of any of it. I'm not ruining his life. I'm not wasting mine. I don't have the words for how much that means to me. I'm so very happy I get to keep him. I really really am. He's such a good man.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Chocolate
I'm feeling low. It's cold and miserable outside, my knees are screaming at me for making them do so many sets of stairs and January is looming like a great dark cloud over me.
January is the three year anniversary of being laid-off, the last time I worked a real, full-time job. I've worked a bit of part-time retail here and there, but that's it. I don't consider the retail work, "real" jobs. They don't pay enough to keep a dog alive, never mind an adult human. I really regret working the retail in fact. If it wasn't for that, I may still have half-way decent feet. Instead mine are a fucking mess and it's directly a result of working retail. But it's January that looms. Three years in a long time.
I feel so useless; so utterly hopeless. Who's going to hire me with a three year gap in my resume?! Even if the economy wasn't shaky, that's damn odd. But I can't change it. I haven't worked in three years. And I feel fucking useless. Totally and completely fucked. I couldn't even get a job as a secretary. I've tried. No one was interested. No one but PT retail has shown any interest in three fucking years, and the only reason they were interested is because they are desperate for employees. Turnover rates in retail are high - the work is hell and the pay is crap.
I know what I want to do. I know what my dream job would be. And I know there isn't a fucking hope in hell I'll ever get the chance to do it. I don't feel qualified. I know, with a little training I could do it with ease, it's what I'm good at. But I don't even know if the job truly exists.... most people I know that have or have had that kind of job are not only the 'architect', but the 'builder' as well. I'm not technical enough for that. I couldn't build software to save my life. I am not a programmer. I doubt I'll ever be. I don't have the education, or the inclination. I'm not good with languages of any kind damnit. But I'm pretty good with people, and I'm good with documents. Hell, I'm even not bad ad debugging. But writing code? No, I can't do that. Perhaps someday, but it's honestly not likely. So I don't see how I'm going to make it as a business analyst.
Perhaps I should just give up, and try becoming... what? what can I do?! Secretary work?? I don't know if I could do that again. Too many memories of my coworkers and boss laughing at me fill my head when I think of that. I still haven't gotten over that. I don't know as I ever will.
Here I am moaning, when I meant to not think about all this. But I guess some things just can't be silenced. It weighs on me. I just don't know what to do. I feel so utterly hopeless, useless, and helpless to make any change or difference in my circumstances.
So much for having a degree. Useless fucking piece of paper. :(
Anyway. Better thoughts. There's fuck all I can do about it right now. I'm only going to make myself more upset thinking about it.
Chocolate. Did I write about Valentines day this year?? I really can't remember if I did. Chris bought me chocolates. He took me to this posh little place in Yorkville where he'd gotten me chocolate the Christmas before last. Yes, it was that good that I'd remembered and asked him to take me there again and again. I think he was saving it for Valentines day. I'm not big on the holiday, but I am big on chocolate. Ooo, what pretty things they have! And having tasted their chocolate bars I was eager to taste them. So eager I scarfed one down before I even thought to take a picture of the pretty chocolates when I got them home!
I then re-wrapped their box, so I could have a record of just how pretty they were wrapped. The gold box was very sturdy, and oh so pretty. The ribbon even has their name on it. Real ribbon. Not that fake plastic stuff. We did get them in Yorkville afterall. heh.
How pretty is that? And they were good too, I should add, the chocolates, that is. So yummy. The ones with the stripes had a vaugely limed flavour, they were refreshing. The ones with the coffee bean imprints had a bit of coffee flavour. I can't for the life of me remember what the ones with the round, uplifted circle on the tops were. I think the ones with the "the" written on them (only one is left in the picture above as I started with that one), was my favourite. Pure, sweet, but not too sweet, yummy chocolatey goodness, if I recall correctly. I enjoyed them though, that's for sure. It was the force of will alone that stopped me from eating them all that day. I could have, but those little buggers were expensive! woo.
Note Chris, since you're the only one that reads this, when you do read this, please don't think this is my 'subtle' way of asking for more. I just wanted a happy memory to push out the not at all happy one is all. Love you!
January is the three year anniversary of being laid-off, the last time I worked a real, full-time job. I've worked a bit of part-time retail here and there, but that's it. I don't consider the retail work, "real" jobs. They don't pay enough to keep a dog alive, never mind an adult human. I really regret working the retail in fact. If it wasn't for that, I may still have half-way decent feet. Instead mine are a fucking mess and it's directly a result of working retail. But it's January that looms. Three years in a long time.
I feel so useless; so utterly hopeless. Who's going to hire me with a three year gap in my resume?! Even if the economy wasn't shaky, that's damn odd. But I can't change it. I haven't worked in three years. And I feel fucking useless. Totally and completely fucked. I couldn't even get a job as a secretary. I've tried. No one was interested. No one but PT retail has shown any interest in three fucking years, and the only reason they were interested is because they are desperate for employees. Turnover rates in retail are high - the work is hell and the pay is crap.
I know what I want to do. I know what my dream job would be. And I know there isn't a fucking hope in hell I'll ever get the chance to do it. I don't feel qualified. I know, with a little training I could do it with ease, it's what I'm good at. But I don't even know if the job truly exists.... most people I know that have or have had that kind of job are not only the 'architect', but the 'builder' as well. I'm not technical enough for that. I couldn't build software to save my life. I am not a programmer. I doubt I'll ever be. I don't have the education, or the inclination. I'm not good with languages of any kind damnit. But I'm pretty good with people, and I'm good with documents. Hell, I'm even not bad ad debugging. But writing code? No, I can't do that. Perhaps someday, but it's honestly not likely. So I don't see how I'm going to make it as a business analyst.
Perhaps I should just give up, and try becoming... what? what can I do?! Secretary work?? I don't know if I could do that again. Too many memories of my coworkers and boss laughing at me fill my head when I think of that. I still haven't gotten over that. I don't know as I ever will.
Here I am moaning, when I meant to not think about all this. But I guess some things just can't be silenced. It weighs on me. I just don't know what to do. I feel so utterly hopeless, useless, and helpless to make any change or difference in my circumstances.
So much for having a degree. Useless fucking piece of paper. :(
Anyway. Better thoughts. There's fuck all I can do about it right now. I'm only going to make myself more upset thinking about it.
Chocolate. Did I write about Valentines day this year?? I really can't remember if I did. Chris bought me chocolates. He took me to this posh little place in Yorkville where he'd gotten me chocolate the Christmas before last. Yes, it was that good that I'd remembered and asked him to take me there again and again. I think he was saving it for Valentines day. I'm not big on the holiday, but I am big on chocolate. Ooo, what pretty things they have! And having tasted their chocolate bars I was eager to taste them. So eager I scarfed one down before I even thought to take a picture of the pretty chocolates when I got them home!
I then re-wrapped their box, so I could have a record of just how pretty they were wrapped. The gold box was very sturdy, and oh so pretty. The ribbon even has their name on it. Real ribbon. Not that fake plastic stuff. We did get them in Yorkville afterall. heh.
How pretty is that? And they were good too, I should add, the chocolates, that is. So yummy. The ones with the stripes had a vaugely limed flavour, they were refreshing. The ones with the coffee bean imprints had a bit of coffee flavour. I can't for the life of me remember what the ones with the round, uplifted circle on the tops were. I think the ones with the "the" written on them (only one is left in the picture above as I started with that one), was my favourite. Pure, sweet, but not too sweet, yummy chocolatey goodness, if I recall correctly. I enjoyed them though, that's for sure. It was the force of will alone that stopped me from eating them all that day. I could have, but those little buggers were expensive! woo.
Note Chris, since you're the only one that reads this, when you do read this, please don't think this is my 'subtle' way of asking for more. I just wanted a happy memory to push out the not at all happy one is all. Love you!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Ray of Sunshine
My bestest friend, sent me a ray of sunshine today, all the way from South Korea (which is too far for comfort, if you ask me). Colour me surprised when I went to pick it up at the post office! I thought it was the knitting t-shirt I ordered last week or so, but no. It was a gift from my Neda. It made me cry, it did. She suddenly didn't feel so very far away. Bless her.
What did I get you ask? Why, this:
I recently started watching Buffy again. I torrented the first season, and went to see what it would cost to own it properly. amazon.ca had it on sale. I posted the link to facebook, cause you know, I was so tempted, but I'm not working, and we just bought gym memberships, and such, this was not the month for it. Neda saw it, and decided to get it for me. Sweet, sweet woman!
Buffy had always been our thing, Neda and mine's. We used to watch it together every week, or tape it and watch a few at a time when we got busier with school and such. Neda actually introduced me to Buffy, and convinced me to watch it. I'm so glad she did too, it really is 'full of win' as my new Torontian friends say. But then, I love just about anything with a woman lead that kicks ass. Buffy has a special place in my heart though, because she was the first, the original, ass-kicker.
I'm sitting here hugging the box, almost in tears, thinking about all the good times Neda and I have shared. And that she bothered. She went to the trouble, and spent the money to bring me happiness. That means the world to me it does. She isn't completely gone.
Hope springs eternal. Sometimes at least. :D
What did I get you ask? Why, this:
I recently started watching Buffy again. I torrented the first season, and went to see what it would cost to own it properly. amazon.ca had it on sale. I posted the link to facebook, cause you know, I was so tempted, but I'm not working, and we just bought gym memberships, and such, this was not the month for it. Neda saw it, and decided to get it for me. Sweet, sweet woman!
Buffy had always been our thing, Neda and mine's. We used to watch it together every week, or tape it and watch a few at a time when we got busier with school and such. Neda actually introduced me to Buffy, and convinced me to watch it. I'm so glad she did too, it really is 'full of win' as my new Torontian friends say. But then, I love just about anything with a woman lead that kicks ass. Buffy has a special place in my heart though, because she was the first, the original, ass-kicker.
I'm sitting here hugging the box, almost in tears, thinking about all the good times Neda and I have shared. And that she bothered. She went to the trouble, and spent the money to bring me happiness. That means the world to me it does. She isn't completely gone.
Hope springs eternal. Sometimes at least. :D
Thursday, September 17, 2009
To Clarify..
I still very much want to marry Chris. I love him dearly. I want to keep him forever and ever.
I was just so disgusted with everything the idea of marriage itself was totally unappealing. That's fair, right?
I'm still not sure what I'm going to do. I tried to "think outside the box" in terms of venues for the wedding ceremony, and realised I just can't do it. All the places that appealled to me are places that normally do weddings. I fail.
Still, having the wedding somewhere, and doing lunch, but not a reception could work. Telling anyone it's a wedding reception adds 40% or more onto the cost. I don't want special treatment anyway. I just want to make a lunch reservation somewhere for a group of 35 adults and 5 children. I want to be able to bring a cake. I'll cut it myself, they just need to bring me a knife and plates. That's simple; restaurants do that all the time for birthdays.
I'm wondering now if I'll even need two layers of cake. Perhaps one will be enough. I'd like two, partly to show off, partly to learn how. But.. again, we'll see.
Gah. Weddings. I want to kill my inner princess. I really do. But I can't seem to even control her. Bah! Bah, I say.
I was just so disgusted with everything the idea of marriage itself was totally unappealing. That's fair, right?
I'm still not sure what I'm going to do. I tried to "think outside the box" in terms of venues for the wedding ceremony, and realised I just can't do it. All the places that appealled to me are places that normally do weddings. I fail.
Still, having the wedding somewhere, and doing lunch, but not a reception could work. Telling anyone it's a wedding reception adds 40% or more onto the cost. I don't want special treatment anyway. I just want to make a lunch reservation somewhere for a group of 35 adults and 5 children. I want to be able to bring a cake. I'll cut it myself, they just need to bring me a knife and plates. That's simple; restaurants do that all the time for birthdays.
I'm wondering now if I'll even need two layers of cake. Perhaps one will be enough. I'd like two, partly to show off, partly to learn how. But.. again, we'll see.
Gah. Weddings. I want to kill my inner princess. I really do. But I can't seem to even control her. Bah! Bah, I say.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Engaged!
Yup, that's right folks, we're engaged. Chris asked me to marry him the Sunday before last, and I, of course, said yes.
Sadly, there is no story to tell. I vaguely remember the first and last sentences he said. He started with, "I know we haven't discussed marriage yet..." And my brain went into hyperventilation overdrive thinking: Oh gods. Oh gods. He's going to ask me to marry him, isn't he? Isn't he?? Oh gods. So everything is a blur. Oops. He did end with something about not having a ring, but that we could get one.
I'm really rather hoping we go through with that. I know it's cliché, and likely not feminist of me, but I really do want a pretty ring. It doesn't have to be the traditional diamond. But I want a ring. I think this whole thing will seem more real to me with a ring on my finger.
One of my best friends, Sabrina, had her engagement, and wedding bands made by some custom jeweler. He did a lovely job. I really like their rings. So I've asked her for his info. Hopefully we can at least get my engagement ring from him. I'm thinking I want either something with a lab-created ruby or a black freshwater pearl. I really can't decide. Whether or not this jeweler can get lab-created rubies will likely help me decide. Though I hope he can, as I think I'm kinda leaning towards the ruby.
So wedding. There is going to be a wedding. My first thought when Chris asked me, after the initial shock, was: "Oh gods. I have to plan a wedding." Thankfully, with Sabrina and Angie both married, I've given some thought to what I want for my wedding.
First things first, I want a small wedding. As small as I can possibly manage it. Family only, and even then, not very much of my family. My grandparents, who raised me, have ten children. Just inviting them and their spouses would be bigger than I want to go. So I've decided to only invite a few, and no cousins. Sabrina, Angie and Neda are invited, but they are family to me. I've known them all for twenty years now. Gods, how the time flies!
Secondly, I want to get married in a red taffeta dress. Preferably with red running shoes underneath so I can be comfy. I've never much cared for wedding dresses. At my size I think I'd look frightening in a white, lacy, beaded monstrosity. A big blindingly white blimp. No thank you. I'd much rather be a red blimp. Also, I'm not a virgin!! I've been living with Chris in a tiny bachelor's apartment for a year now, and dating him for three. Honestly. I have no desire to pretend I'm something I'm not. And I look good in red, damnit. It must be taffeta, it's one of the prettiest fabrics I've ever seen. Besides, when am I ever going to get another chance to wear it?
Third, I don't want to get married in a church. Chris and I are both atheists. I would not feel comfortable in a church. It just smacks of too much wrong for me.
The reception has always been a hard point for me when thinking about getting married. On the one hand I don't want hoopla, on the other, I do want to share the occasion and the day with my family. So Chris and I have decided on a daytime wedding, meaning we'll have the ceremony in the morning, directly followed by a lunch reception. This I think, will suit ours and our families needs best.
One of the hardest parts for me is convincing my oldest friends I don't want hoopla. They can't seem to understand it. I've had enough hoopla to last me a lifetime with Angie and Sabrina's weddings. I don't want hoopla. I don't want to put them or my family or myself through that.
No Engagement Party, no bridal shower, no stag & doe, no bachelorette night, none of that hoopla. It's just too much. Heck, I'm not even having a 'wedding party'. I don't want a maid of honour, bridesmaids, groomsmen, a flower girl, a ring bearer - the list goes on. It's all just too much.
I don't want any of that. I don't want to deal with it and all the stress that goes along with it. I just want to get married and have the people I love most there to see it happen. That's it.
I'm trying to keep my eye on the prize, as they say, while I plan this. I really don't want hoopla. I have to watch myself and not get suckered into it.
Sadly, there is no story to tell. I vaguely remember the first and last sentences he said. He started with, "I know we haven't discussed marriage yet..." And my brain went into hyperventilation overdrive thinking: Oh gods. Oh gods. He's going to ask me to marry him, isn't he? Isn't he?? Oh gods. So everything is a blur. Oops. He did end with something about not having a ring, but that we could get one.
I'm really rather hoping we go through with that. I know it's cliché, and likely not feminist of me, but I really do want a pretty ring. It doesn't have to be the traditional diamond. But I want a ring. I think this whole thing will seem more real to me with a ring on my finger.
One of my best friends, Sabrina, had her engagement, and wedding bands made by some custom jeweler. He did a lovely job. I really like their rings. So I've asked her for his info. Hopefully we can at least get my engagement ring from him. I'm thinking I want either something with a lab-created ruby or a black freshwater pearl. I really can't decide. Whether or not this jeweler can get lab-created rubies will likely help me decide. Though I hope he can, as I think I'm kinda leaning towards the ruby.
So wedding. There is going to be a wedding. My first thought when Chris asked me, after the initial shock, was: "Oh gods. I have to plan a wedding." Thankfully, with Sabrina and Angie both married, I've given some thought to what I want for my wedding.
First things first, I want a small wedding. As small as I can possibly manage it. Family only, and even then, not very much of my family. My grandparents, who raised me, have ten children. Just inviting them and their spouses would be bigger than I want to go. So I've decided to only invite a few, and no cousins. Sabrina, Angie and Neda are invited, but they are family to me. I've known them all for twenty years now. Gods, how the time flies!
Secondly, I want to get married in a red taffeta dress. Preferably with red running shoes underneath so I can be comfy. I've never much cared for wedding dresses. At my size I think I'd look frightening in a white, lacy, beaded monstrosity. A big blindingly white blimp. No thank you. I'd much rather be a red blimp. Also, I'm not a virgin!! I've been living with Chris in a tiny bachelor's apartment for a year now, and dating him for three. Honestly. I have no desire to pretend I'm something I'm not. And I look good in red, damnit. It must be taffeta, it's one of the prettiest fabrics I've ever seen. Besides, when am I ever going to get another chance to wear it?
Third, I don't want to get married in a church. Chris and I are both atheists. I would not feel comfortable in a church. It just smacks of too much wrong for me.
The reception has always been a hard point for me when thinking about getting married. On the one hand I don't want hoopla, on the other, I do want to share the occasion and the day with my family. So Chris and I have decided on a daytime wedding, meaning we'll have the ceremony in the morning, directly followed by a lunch reception. This I think, will suit ours and our families needs best.
One of the hardest parts for me is convincing my oldest friends I don't want hoopla. They can't seem to understand it. I've had enough hoopla to last me a lifetime with Angie and Sabrina's weddings. I don't want hoopla. I don't want to put them or my family or myself through that.
No Engagement Party, no bridal shower, no stag & doe, no bachelorette night, none of that hoopla. It's just too much. Heck, I'm not even having a 'wedding party'. I don't want a maid of honour, bridesmaids, groomsmen, a flower girl, a ring bearer - the list goes on. It's all just too much.
I don't want any of that. I don't want to deal with it and all the stress that goes along with it. I just want to get married and have the people I love most there to see it happen. That's it.
I'm trying to keep my eye on the prize, as they say, while I plan this. I really don't want hoopla. I have to watch myself and not get suckered into it.
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