I hate New Year's!!! (written one year ago)

*** I wrote and posted this piece on 12/31/12 on my other blog that is no longer active. It fits again for this year. But this year I am not as sad about it. I miss my brother so very much, but he has recently sent a special angel in to my life. I am grateful for this woman and the instant friendship we have. So this year as I wish Tony "Happy 41st Birthday" I will also thank him for SJP. ***


It is New Year's Eve and I am sitting in my bed. I am downstairs. I am away from my parents. I can not be near them right now. I need time alone. What I really want is to be able to walk next door and talk to my best friend K. Or to get in my van and drive to my sister M's or my aunt's. To be able to be me without having to watch every word that comes out of my mouth.

I hate New Years Eve. I have since August 24, 2007. Because since then, it is not the way it used to be. It will never be the fun it used to be. It isn't the celebration it used to be. Tony would have been 40 at 12:01 am. But he never made it. He died at age 34. Of cancer. He died. And all the fun of New Years went with him.

Sure I've tried in the past few years to have fun. But I can't. I always feel this cloud hovering over me. This sadness that just creeps in. I try to fight it. I tried to hide it in Vegas in 2010. I was there, but it wasn't fun for me. My heart hurt the entire night. I faked it as best I could. But I'm sure my friends A, T and B knew something wasn't right. I should never have gone. Because I didn't belong there. I don't know where I belonged, but it wasn't there. And I still don't know where I belong on this hated holiday….

I miss my house in Wisconsin. I miss my friends, my family. I miss being able to do what I want when I want. I miss having my own life. It's hard not having what I had grown very used to over the past five years. My little two bedroom house- with all it's imperfections. But it was mine. I didn't have to worry if I put another hole in the wall because I hung a picture. If I didn't feel like doing dishes, I didn't. I lived alone and I was okay with that.

Now, I live with two other people. People who are set in their own ways. People who have their own language with one another. I am on the outside. I am trying to do what I think is best, but I get it wrong… a lot. I do not know how to make her happy. I try my best every day. And she asks, "When is Dad coming home?" no matter if it's noon or 4:55 pm. She always wants Dad. I am not the one who can make her world right.

I can sit in the same room with her and watch mindless TV all day and have her get annoyed with me. I can fix lunch in the morning and then retreat downstairs to give her space and she'll get sad and lonely. I can spend half the day up and half the day down. I can take her shopping in the morning for three hours and in the afternoon she snarkily comments that she is "locked up in this house all day." I can ask her to go for a walk with me and be told, "I don't want to", so I go. But then I "left her alone" and she gets scared.

I know that no matter if it was me or my dad or the blue man on the moon, no one could get it right even half the time. And that's what kills me. I don't like not being able to get this right. I was an "A" student through high school. In college I graduated with a 3.1 GPA and held down a job for 3/4 of my time there. I was smart. I knew what I was capable of. Now, I feel as uneducated as a block of stone. I do not know how to do this.

When I sit down to write, I know how to do it. I can make my feelings understood by a reader. I can help someone see what it's like to walk this line or become vested in whatever topic I want them to be. But I can't make my own mind understand why I am getting so frustrated. Why I want to scream and cry and yell at her. I know it'll do no good. So why do I still feel like it's the only way through to her?

I feel guilty for feeling this way. Here I sit in tears and all I can think is I shouldn't share this with you. I should just suck it up and deal with it. But I promised I'd be honest. It sucks. Being honest with you, means I have to be honest with myself. And I don't like feeling like this. I don't like feeling lost and incompetent.

I miss my brother. I miss having him to talk to. There is no one else on this planet that gets me like he did. He and I shared the same parents. We knew the same life. And now, to try to explain to someone on the "outside", it's not the same. Because you don't know the back story. You don't know my mom. You don't know my dad. You don't know me. It takes forever to give you the back story. When all I want is my brother to say, "Hey I understand. Mom's fucked up. The whole thing is fucked up. But I got your back." And know that he did.

You can tell me you have my back. But in reality, you don't. I don't expect you to. You have kids, a husband, a life that you need to be involved in. You're not here. I am. I can't ask you to come sit with her for an hour so I can go meet another friend for lunch. Hell, I don't know anyone here besides my parents. They don't have friends outside of each other (long story for another blog) here in Colorado. If you call, I can't talk to you about what's going on. But if Tony was here, I could. I could talk to him in our code and he'd understand. He'd know what to ask and he'd know what was what.

The bond between siblings can be strong or it can be weak. I was lucky. My bond with Tony was unbreakable. Even when he died, that bond is not gone. I know that if I turn on my radio, he'll send me my song. He'll let me know he's still listening. I just wish like hell that I could talk with him. That I could laugh with him. That I could wish him "Happy 40th Birthday Ugly Boy!"

I wish like hell it was 1990 again and he and I were playing Monopoly, eating all kinds of junk food,  watching Segal or Stallone blow some shit up and laughing like two idiots. And at 12:01 I'd wish him Happy Birthday and sing as loud as I could. Then we'd go back to our game and our dumb movie. Before everything changed. Way before the world as I knew it ended….

Christmas 2013

The holidays are not easy in this home anymore. I guess in reality they haven’t been since 1983. It started with my maternal grandmother’s death on Dec 12, 1983. It was my dad’s birthday. Then on Jan 6, 1984 (my parent’s anniversary) my godmother died. Christmas’ after that always had a cloud of sadness over them. I didn’t see it for what it was back when I was a kid.

Then Tony died in August of 2007. Christmas was his holiday. He was always happy at that time of year. He put joy in the holidays. It didn’t hurt that his birthday was the 1^st of January either. After he died, that first Christmas was hard. I remember putting on a smile and singing the songs and decorating. But then every night I would cry myself to sleep because it just wasn’t the way it should be. I watched his son open his gifts that year and my heart broke. I smiled and kept all the tears inside. I was strong and steady, and I faked joy with every word out of my mouth.

What I should have done was cry and scream, and just let it out. Instead I kept it under wraps and it about killed me. The following months saw me slowly spiral down into the place I now call “the black hole”. I liken it to a cave- it’s dark and lonely and stinks. I ended up with Shingles twice because I kept trying to hold it together for everyone else. I didn’t let people in on the very dark thoughts in my head. I was afraid of those thoughts. I talk about the nightmares I had in a blog I posted last January, Nightmare: The end. The hole loved when I gave in to the darkness in my head.

This year the holidays are once again proving to be difficult. I hear the hole calling my name. It wants me to curl up on the couch and give in to the darkness; it wants me to bask in the sadness and let it hold me. I could give in to it, and some days I think it would be easier to just let it happen. But then I get this tingle on my neck and I know that’s not what Tony wants me to do. He reminds me that I am stronger than the pull from the hole. He knows that the changes happening here are not easy for me. He shows me that he is here and that he’s helping all he can from the other side. I feel warmth envelop my heart and I let the tears flow. This is what stops the hole from calling me. It doesn’t have the power it used to. Because I am smarter and stronger than it is. I talk about what I’m feeling and I allow myself to be sad. I allow myself to cry and to get mad and to simply let the feelings happen. I am done ignoring them and trying to keep them from happening.

There are lots of changes happening in my world. Most of them revolve around my mom and what she is going through. Dementia is not a gentle or kind disease. It likes to tease and taunt. It will lead you to think that since yesterday was a good day, today will be one too. And then it slams you head first in to the wall. Today is not what yesterday was. It’s the opposite and it sucks. Tomorrow will be different and there’s no telling what may or may not happen. The black hole would love to pull me in at this point but I will not let it. I know that I cannot help my mom if I give in to the hole. Sure I have my days when it’s best to keep things to the bare necessities and I do that. It’s part of the way things are now. Yesterday is gone and tomorrow is not a guarantee. Today is where I have to be. I take each day as it comes. I can’t undo what’s happening to my mom. I can’t stop the changes; I can only take it minute by minute and do my best.

This holiday I’ve taken it upon myself to spread the cheer Tony loved so much. I’ve made sure that people with less have a little more. I’ve come through for three friends with the hottest toy of the season. I’ve shipped the wonder of Christmas to people who matter so very much to me. I do this so that the hole can’t win. I do this because it makes my heart happy and it’s exactly what my brother would tell me to do too. If I was home in WI I’d be with Scar and we’d be singing in the stores and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas in Tony’s memory. One year he jumped in a cart at Walmart and I pushed him through the store as he wished everyone a Merry Christmas and sang “I’m gettin’ nuttin’ for Christmas!” The people he encountered would at first glare, then a timid smile and finally a laugh. Until he got the laugh I was not to lose sight of the person. We followed one man down four aisles before he gave Tony a high-five and joined him in his very off tune rendition of “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.” One Christmas he took a little collapsible bike off the shelf at Sam’s club and rode it down the aisles. He looked like a complete idiot and I have the picture to remember that day for the rest of my Christmas’.  Those memories keep me smiling on the worst days.

This Christmas will be simple. I will make dinner for the three of us and mom will have a few little things to open. Then we’ll go about doing our own things. I’ll watch movies or read. Mom will listen to her books and Dad will find football to watch. It’s not the big celebration some will have, but I’ll be grateful for one more Christmas with mom. I will not go in to the black hole, because I do not want or need to. I have family and friends (who count more like family than they know) that I can turn to and they are my reason to stay out of the black hole.  

Holidays are not easy after losing a loved one. My family has had enough loss to last a lifetime. Sadly I know we haven’t seen the end of that. Grief is not one size fits all. It’s a process and some people take longer than others. If you are experiencing your first Christmas without a loved one this year, my heart goes out to you. It can easily get over whelming and the sadness can take all the joy out of the season. Don’t hide the sadness: feel it, talk about it, cry about it. Let yourself feel whatever you need to, let yourself grieve. It’s not easy, but each year that passes will make it less painful and more about the wonderful memories you hold dear. And know you are not alone, you are never alone. Reach out to your family, your friends or me. I care and will listen.

Merry Christmas to you and yours!

Composer 

18 years and not much more to go.....

I realized today that a piece of my past is dying. A piece that I treasure. It is a material thing, literally. And maybe I shouldn’t put so much value on it. But I love this item and have always taken pride in it and now, well now I feel grief over its demise.

I have had this piece in my possession for 18 years. Holy shit! It’s lasted longer than some of my friendships and it definitely has outlasted all of my romances. Good Lord I’m getting old. Can it really be that old? Let me tell you the story….

I was 19 and in my freshmen year of college at the University of North Texas in Denton, Texas. I had just turned 19 and wanted to buy myself something for my big day, so off to the bookstore I went. I fell in love the instant I saw it. It was perfect- heather gray with the University of North Texas written across the chest.  I slipped it over my head and found the fit of a lifetime. It wasn’t too heavy, it wasn’t too light. It was an XL and hung on me just as I’d always wanted a sweatshirt too. I spent my cash on it and it is one purchase I have never ever regretted.

I have numerous pictures of me in my sweatshirt over the years. Some with college friends, others with boyfriends, even a few with family. As the years have gone by this sweatshirt has hung on and is the one I turn to for comfort 9 times out of 10. I have worn it in all four seasons; day and night. I have worn it on girl’s trips, casino runs, midnight snack runs. I have packed it for just about every trip- even to Mexico for the 4^th of July in 1997. It has traveled to PA, WA, WI, IL, CO, the south of France and Vilseck, Germany

I have tried other sweatshirts out. I even was lucky enough to have Cowgirl send me one she no longer wears that is from UNT. They just aren’t the same. I do own a hoodie that is emblazoned with UNT across it and I wear that as a jacket here in CO. And it is comfy and it will most likely become my go to sweatshirt for this winter. But it just won’t be the same.

I have gained over 40 pounds since I bought this prized sweatshirt and it does not judge me. It hides my fat rolls and keeps me comfy. I have curled up in it for days when my depression was too thick for me to move. I have cried in its sleeve, hid my face with its neck when my cheeks have turned crimson, and I turn to it on the days I need just a little bit of coverage to stay warm. It is getting thinner and thinner with every wash; the cuffs are slowly starting to rip and unfurl. It causes my heart to hurt to see it getting closer and closer to the day it just won’t be wearable anymore.

I WILL figure out a way to keep my sweatshirt alive- somehow, someway. In the meantime, I’m going to be hitting Ebay up to see if by chance its sibling is out there somewhere….

Embracing the me that I am

A very dear and close friend came to visit me a week ago. She flew in on a Wednesday night and left early Sunday morning. It was a visit I needed more than I realized. We laughed, and shopped and talked and then shopped some more. She believes in retail therapy as much as I do and it was good to have that therapy with her. I even took her to IKEA for her first visit- now she loves it as much as I do.

We drove up to Fort Collins on Saturday. We shopped, ate and shopped some more. It was wonderful. But the thing I liked best was being able to talk very honestly and openly with her. She has never judged me or told me I’m wrong for the feelings I have. She understands me in a way some people never will because we have a common bond in our past. There is acceptance and love and a deeper understanding with this woman than I have with any other friend because of that shared bond.

On the way home from Fort Collins (it’s an hour drive each way) I brought up a topic that has been running in circles in my head- careers.  My friend is very career driven and I respect and admire her for that. I do not always understand what she’s talking about when she tells me about work, but I listen. I get the general idea, I’m not brainless, but I don’t get the rush from it like she does. Her work is very important to her and always has been. She works hard and it shows.

I, on the other hand, am not. I do not enjoy corporate America. I do not enjoy being stuck behind a desk. I have a tendency to put in too many hours and then get sick- and not just a cold. I have had Shingles three times, my liver had issues laying me up for a week, I've had ocular migraines that took a week to diagnose and the list goes on. Since leaving corporate America, I don’t have the stress and haven’t gotten sick like that. (Yes the heart thing, but that they think has been there for years!)

While speaking with my friend she said, “In the time I've known you, you've never been career driven. It’s never been the driving force for you.” She’s known me 9 years and knows my work history. For her to see this about me, to understand it and to accept me for it was marvelous. We spoke further about what that means for me in the long run.

I like taking care of my family and loved ones. I have always wanted to be a mom and a writer. Well the mom thing hasn't happened yet, but the writing thing- that I am doing. And I’m taking care of my mom which is exactly where I need to be. Family means a lot to me and I will always put them first. That’s how I am.

My dad has never understood this part of me. He can’t fathom that I don’t want to have a career. I think he sees it as a weakness. He laments on how I should have taken more business classes in college, or why don't I become a technical writer. He will not accept that I suck at tech writing- I failed the course in college (two of my professors told me to drop before the course ended but I was determined to stick it out) and have tried it for other jobs. I like words; I like to paint a picture with them. I find it very frustrating to do technical writing. I know my own limitations and keeping it short and sweet isn't me. I don’t like disappointing him in this way. I know I could get a job if I needed to. I’m not above any job; I've worked in all kinds of fields. But the field I like best is the one I’m in RIGHT now. I’m happy, I’m content and I am lucky.

Eventually, I will need to get a full time job to provide for myself (unless God sends me a lottery win or wonderful partner that will continue to allow me not to work). I know this. And I will do it. In the meantime, I’m going to write and take care of my mom. I have talked and talked and talked about my dream to become a published author. Well, no more talk- just action. I have confidence in my ability to tell a story- whether it be my own or one from my imagination. I can write a term paper, I can write an erotic story. I can weave the layers and draw in my reader. This is where my drive lies, where my passion lives.

Talking about and admitting that I am not a career minded woman may ruffle some feathers. Some may even think I’m setting women back. I don’t think that’s the case. I am not saying my way is the right way or your way is wrong. I just know for me, career hasn't ever been a defining force. Learning to listen to your own song, to follow your own path, to do what makes you happy- that’s what this is about. I’m accepting what lies in my heart instead of trying to do what others think I should. I am embracing the passion that breathes inside of me instead of being someone I’m not. 

In Memory of Tony, 6 years ago he left this world....

                                                           Tony Lynn Foth

                                                            1/1/73- 8/24/07

                                                      Gone, but never forgotten!

8/24/13

Hey Bubba,

I never know how to start this. I write you a lot, like you don’t already know every thought I have in my head. I need to write you and know that publishing one letter a year to my blog is a good thing. It lets others see how much you are missed and thought of daily. And I hope it brings to mind good memories of you.

You know how scared I was a month ago. I felt you in that hospital room every minute. I knew you wouldn’t let me die. I stayed strong because of you. I had to, because even with your last words you were strong. Thank you for sharing your strength with me and keeping me alive. Though I have a feeling you really don’t want me up there to annoy you just yet. *lol*

I cried a few times this week- which is down from the year before and the year before that. Its 6 years today. 6 years since I crawled in to that hospital bed with you and just let it all out. I can still feel the prickles of your beard on my fingers as I type. I remember how much it had hurt not to be able to touch you for the last 36 hours of your life. I wanted nothing more than to hold your hand, touch your face, give you comfort without words. But you couldn’t stand it. You barely could handle the washcloth on your head. It broke mom’s heart and it broke mine. Once you died, I laid down next to you. I wanted a last hug. What I wouldn’t give for one today….

So much has happened in these 6 years, things that I never would have thought or even imagined. I can’t help but wonder if they would have happened if you were alive. I mean, would I have moved out here to CO? Or would you and I banded together and forced dad to come home to WI with mom? Would you have finally found “the one”? Or have you already up in Heaven? (And no, Anna Nicole does not count!)

You were here just a few days ago when the hurt was so raw I could have choked someone to death. You buzzed me good to get me to calm down. You made sure I heard the much needed song. You’re still taking care of me from the other side-just like you promised you would. I’m more grateful for that bond than I can express. You’ve pulled me out of some extremely dark caves, you’ve forced me to breathe and find my center, but most of all you’ve reminded me that love is never ending.

Today I’ll look for the signs from you, the ones you send every year. You know mom is lost. She doesn’t remember the date and therefore doesn’t realize just what today is. Which I guess is a good thing because I hate to see her sad. I will plaster a smile on my face for her when she is near me. I will work on the van with Daddy and I’ll make sure to watch my language because of those “shittin’ little kids”. Do you remember how hard you hit your head laughing at mom when she said that to you? I’m surprised you didn’t cut your head wide open on the hood of my truck. And poor Daddy- I thought he was gonna have a stroke his face was so red from laughing. We don’t let her forget that one either. LOL Though her filter is off more and more. I bet you sit up on a cloud and just laugh your ass off at what comes out of her mouth now. Did you bust a gut on Monday when she told the workman across the street he was hot and that she would be watching him? Of course I was mortified at first and then I swear I heard you laugh- and then I was laughing. Oh the things that come out of her mouth!

I miss you very much big brother. With every health concern I wish that you were here to talk to. I’m scared of what is going on in my body. If you were here I know you’d tell me to take it a day at a time and go with the flow. “You can’t fuckin’ change it Tubby; all you can do is face it head on.” What I wouldn’t give to hear you tell me that it’s going to be okay, and if it’s not- well then we’ll deal with it. Some days I miss you so much I want to crawl back in to that dark place. You don’t let me. You make sure someone reaches out to me, that someone tells me I’m not alone. Did you make Stallone make those “Expendables” movies to cheer me up? When I watched them I could hear your comments, your laughter. It’s your fault I even watch the “blow-em-up movies” as mom calls them. Thanks for making me sit through them and now I laugh when I watch the old Seagal, Van Damme, Snipes, etc. movies. When I watch the new movies like that or any racing movie, I feel you in the room with me. We’d be commenting on the errors in editing, or how cool it’d be to drive a car like that. And I’d be losing another game of Monopoly to you. But I’d be the racecar!

Tony, you were larger than life to me. I never thought you could die. And when you did- a chunk of my heart went with you to Heaven. I even think a bit of my soul went with you. I’ve come so far in the last few years in terms of dealing with your death. I no longer say “he left”, I say you died. I don’t have that awful nightmare anymore. After I wrote about it, it lost its power over me. Just like you always told me- “Tubby, you’re better with words than I ever will be. Writing is your gift- use it”. I’ve written quite a few blogs now. And each one helps me heal more. I just wish you were here to talk to about some of the things that I am afraid to write about. I know you’d have the right words to help me. Send me a sign ok?

I made you a promise before you died. You were very honest with me when you spoke of your greatest fear about dying. I remember every word of that conversation; it was one of our longest and last. Your fear was that you’d be forgotten, that the people you loved the most would stop speaking of you, that they would forget the man you were. I took your hand in mine and gave you this promise:

“I will never ever, ever forget you. You are my big brother, my best friend. You will remain my big brother as long as I live. Your name will never be far from my lips. I will tell your story to the world. I will share your life with the people that matter to you. I promise you that I will never stop loving you, or missing you. I will not let you be forgotten!”

So Bubba, I will use my gift and tell your stories. I will put them on paper for your son, your friends and family. I think of you every day and will for the rest of my life. I will never stop being your baby sister. And I’m so proud to have you as MY big brother.

Today I remember the last time I saw your face. I cry for the pain you were in. I cry for the pain your death caused to all those who loved you so very much. I hear the last words you spoke to me 2 days before you died and I will always be grateful those were the words you made sure I heard. I see the tears fall as mom said good-bye. I regret never having said those words aloud to you, but know you understand. I hear the scream of your son as I broke his heart. I feel the stillness of your last moments on earth. I feel the tears run down my cheeks and the urge to once again put my fist in my mouth to ensure I don’t call you back. But most importantly- I remember the grin you had as you took your last breath. I see your entire face light up as you say “Grandpa” and I knew you were going to be safe in Heaven. I am blessed to have been there.

Oh Tony, how much I miss you. It’s not easy having you gone. You are never forgotten, never will be. Today I will remember the good. Today I will wear the cap you gave me and get my hands greasy with dad. And you’ll be right there with us, as always.

I love you Tony!

~ Tubby

To SCAR

     I knew it would be hard to leave my hometown in WI again. We were there for five nights and four days. What I didn’t realize was that my heart would once again get broken by leaving, that instead of it being “see you in a year” it felt like I was leaving behind my world…. again. I cried myself to sleep on Monday night because I knew what Tuesday morning would bring. I couldn’t cry then, I had to show I was strong and that all would be okay. It killed me to be that strong when I said good-bye to her. You see SHE’S the reason it’s hard to not be living in the same town or let alone the same state. At least if I was in state I could take weekend trips up to her and vice versa. Being over 1,000 miles apart is the 2^nd hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through.

Let me see if I can put in to words all that I feel about and for this woman. I will most likely not get half of it out right. SHE means that much to me.

I have known her all my life. Up until a few years ago, well, we were just acquaintances. Her mother is my dad’s sister. She is the 2^nd to youngest cousin on my dad’s side of the family. We would see each other at family parties and we were always nice to each other. I loved her because she was family. I didn’t know her then. I had opinions of my own and others that shaped how I saw this woman. She and I have talked about all of that and become closer because of my honesty.

Now I tell her almost daily how much I love her. Leaving her on Tuesday morning broke my heart. She’s become one of the most important people in my life and I didn’t realize just how much till I hugged her tight on the first night we were together again. She’s got a world of worry on her shoulders right now and I’m not there to help. Yes I can text and call (which I do) but it’s not the same as walking in her kitchen and sharing a cup of coffee, or picking up one of her kiddos for a few hours or overnight to give her some help. And it sure as hell isn’t the same as walking in her door and wrapping my arms around her and just holding her on the hard days.

I would do anything to switch places with her so that she wouldn’t have had to go through the hell of cancer. That’s the bond we share. She had pancreatic cancer and KICKED ITS ASS! When she told me I honestly didn’t know if I could be the help she needed. It wasn’t that long ago that I’d been walking the cancer road with Tony. Would it bring back all the horrible nightmares? Would I be strong enough to hold her hand while she got bad news? Would I even be able to look into the face of the Doctor treating her- the very same one Tony had at the end and not go all psycho bitch on him? The only thing I knew for sure is that she needed help- whatever capacity I could give. She never asked me for more than I could handle. I ended up doing more than I thought I would be able to. And because of that, I now have my cousin as one of my best friends.

I remember all the trips to the clinic- the dr. visits, the chemo, the testing. It wasn’t easy to look at her and not see Tony. But then I’d hear him telling me this one was different and she’d be okay. I held him to that and still do. She gave me the opportunity to be strong again and to see her battle as hers and not his. I cannot begin to tell you how much prayer went in to this walk with her. She helped me strengthen my faith. I was never mad at God for taking Tony home. I never hated God for the walk Tony and I had together. I did lose sight of Him after it all ended. I wasn’t really ready for the new chapters of my life and got over whelmed by depression. My beautiful cousin, she helped me see past the clouds and look for the sun again.

I used what I’d learnt from Tony and his battle. I made sure she was forthright and honest with her doctor. I encouraged her to fight for herself, not just allow them to treat her as a “normal” patient. She wasn’t- she kicked ass. She’s one of few that can say she beat pancreatic cancer. Of course in the midst of treatments, the what-ifs always hovered. Could I handle losing her? Could I survive getting close to someone again and then having cancer rip them from me? We are lucky, those questions never had to be answered, and I pray that they never do.

You see, I can’t imagine my life without her now. I feel torn in half right now. I am out here to make life easier for Dad and Mom. I want to be here, don’t get me wrong. I just want to be there for her too. I want to walk in to her house, pat the dog, hug the kids and then put her snuggly in to bed and let her rest while I take care of the laundry, cleaning, cooking (she's way better at it than I but I'd do it for her in a heartbeat!) or whatever else she needed to get done. I want to be there on her bad days with a cup of coffee, some fart jokes and a shoulder. And on my bad days, I want her here with me to make me remember how far we’ve come.

All this and so much more is why on Tuesday morning as I picked Maybelle up from her house, my heart broke and a piece stayed behind. I never wanted to let go of her. I think at times I may need her more than she even realizes. I am already trying to figure out how to save up some cash so that I can fly home sooner than later to see her again. I need my time with her. I know how precious it is and thank God for every minute. And I thank GOD for HER!

To my amazing, strong, beautiful Scar-

You are so much more than a cousin to me. You’ve become a friend, a sister, a life line. I could not be out here doing what I am without you. Thank you for loving me enough to understand that I have to be out here. Thank you for worrying about me and how it would affect me when you told me about your cancer. You will never understand how much that helped me start to heal. Thank you for sharing your children with me- I adore them! Please take good care of that piece of my heart I left with you on Tuesday. I will pick it up when I move back home to be near you! LU LU MU

~ Composer

PS If you haven't already, go check out her Facebook page and tell her I sent you.  I Survived Cancer And All I Got Was This Stupid Scar

Blessed to be here...

It's taken me a few days to really wrap my head around how bad things were before my pacemaker. It's taken me these days to absorb the what could have been's. I need to talk about them, so here I go.

My heart was pausing for anywhere from 3 to 7.2 seconds at a time. Not just once a day, not twice… MULTIPLE times a day. Some pauses would come in clusters of 3-5 at a time. I watched them on the monitor while in the hospital. I laughed about it while I was in there because I didn't want to really think about what it meant. Hell, I even figured out that if I coughed I could make the monitor look like a mountain range- my own personal etch a sketch. The nurses probably wanted to smack me for that. But I had to handle it. I couldn't break down in front of mom and dad. I had to be strong.

These pauses are not normal. My heart was trying it's best to keep up but it was failing. Miserably.

When the cardiologist (whom I have a crush on) walks in to your hospital room and looks at you in shock, it's not good. And when the electro-physiologist comes in and looks so apologetic, it's not good either. Hind sight is 20/20 and both of these doctors apologized for missing the signs. They both told me this has most likely been my problem for the past two and a half years, if not longer.  They got stuck on the fact that I'm only 36 and it's very rare to have this be the issue. My electro- Dr. K- was genuine in his surprise that this was my problem. As he told me, "you were text book in retrospect." I know from now on he'll look at younger patients with my symptoms and double check them for pauses. And that does my heart good, because it may save someone's life.

I could have suffered sudden cardiac arrest. I could have died in my sleep, while sitting watching TV, doing laundry or driving. I could have been like my cousin 9 years ago that didn't come home from shopping. She passed away in her car and the only thing they could find was a possible arrhythmia. That could have been me.  I didn't want to think of those possibilities while I was lying in the hospital. I knew I was safe there. I had so many monitors hooked up to me and the entire Telemetry floor got to know me. If I sneezed, they called my nurse to check on me. When I started doing the coughing, my nurse came running. She laughed but I stopped it after the night nurse came running with two others. I felt bad seeing the worry on her face.

I stayed upbeat in the hospital because that's how I cope. I made the nurses laugh; the nursing assistants watched "Will & Grace" and "Duck Dynasty" with me. I ate because I was starving. And I watched the monitor. I got to where I could tell my dad to watch it too because I felt the pauses coming on. It was kinda cool to see how when I got a head rush, the monitor showed a short pause or a bunch of short ones, or one llllllooooooonnnnnngggggg one.

It was last night when it all hit me. I was trying to fall asleep and couldn't get comfortable. I am sleeping in my parent's king size bed so that they can hear me from the spare room. As I lay there counting my pulse (it was 63- it can't get below 50 or over 140 without the pacemaker kicking in), I started to cry. I was in pain and I realized that this could have ended so differently. I could be in heaven with Tony today instead of getting ready to watch movies with Daddy.

Between God and Tony, they took care of me. I have some very good guardian angels and am grateful for them. I'm sure Tony needs a rest now. Before he died he promised me he'd always take care of me, just like he'd done while he was alive. He has more than fulfilled that promise.

This entire ordeal has me rethinking things. I'm blessed to have the guardian angels I do- I miss them all so very much but know they played a huge part in keeping me here on earth. I am beyond grateful for all the prayers I received from family, friends, followers of my pages and friends of friends who heard about what was going on. I can't say enough about Amanda (see http://composingthedreamasigo.blogspot.com/2013/07/i-owe-her-my-life.html) and will forever be in her debt.

It will take 7 more days to be able to shower and drive. Then it will be 3 more months of healing to ensure the leads don't come out of my heart. In those 3 months I can do some exercise and I will. I will take the small steps needed to heal properly. I look forward to getting my life back. And if they doctor's are right, I'll feel like I did 5 years ago. I'm optimistic but realistic. I'll never take a day for granted again!

In the meantime, I'll be re-evaluating my plans and goals. I want to make sure I don't waste this 2nd chance. I am one of the lucky ones!

I owe her my life

It's been three days since I had the pacemaker put in. Three days of pain in my shoulder, weird pulsing in my throat and discovering how good it feels to walk up and down the stairs without getting winded.

It's been six days since Amanda at the clinic fought to get me a special heart monitor that was monitored 24/7. I owe her my life. That is not an exaggeration. Let me explain…

For the past few months I've been dealing with heart issues. They thought it was SVT (supra ventricular tachycardia) so the cardiologist did an ablation to burn the over active nerves in my heart. That was done at the end of March 2013. It seemed to make my heart and life better. Until a month or so later when I could feel the pulsing again. It wasn't different for me. I had been feeling this weird skipping, pulsating for months if not years. I was put on a Holter monitor that I pushed the button on when I felt the pulsating.

The monitor just showed pre-beats. But that was wrong. It wasn't pre-beats. It was showing the after effects of my hear pausing. By the time I felt this pulsating, my heart was already coming out of the pause. The monitor wasn't catching the real problem.

I saw the cardiologist on the 8th of July and he thought my dizzy spells were just a passing thing. But told me to slap on a bp cuff when I felt them to see if they could notice a pattern. On the 15th of July I saw my Primary care doctor because I couldn't feel my own pulse and neither could the bp cuff. She called the cardiologist and demanded a follow up appointment on the 18th.

Seeing the cardiologist again so soon wasn't what he wanted because he couldn't figure out what was wrong. But he did what he called a shotgun approach and put me on a new med, ordered another heart monitor for 30 days and referred me to a neurologist. You see every time they did an EKG on me I was lying down and my heart rate and bp were normal. My heart could handle me laying down very well. It was when I was up or restless while sleeping that the problem occurred.

The day I saw the cardiologist, I was able to make an appointment to get my monitor the following Monday. I made a point of having the scheduler tell Amanda it was me again. God made my mouth speak up.

It was because of that point being made that God then put a gut instinct in to Amanda. He made her fight for the better, more expensive, monitor. And thank GOD she did. I had the monitor on for 24 hours and it picked up at least three 7.2 second pauses and a bunch of clusters of 3-6 second pauses. It's because of that monitor that I was told to get to the hospital. It was because of how bad those pauses are that I was kept in the hospital. It was because AMANDA fought for me that I didn't die. When I spoke with her on Thursday, before my procedure, we both cried. She told me how she felt pushed to get me that monitor all weekend, how she couldn't get over the nagging feeling that it had to be the better monitor. She knew in her heart that God needed her to save me from a very bad outcome.

I owe her my life. I will never be able to repay her for saving me. I will forever be grateful to her. 

To the one I never should have loved....

J.K-

I haven’t written you in years. I swore that I’d done enough of it the last time. But my heart knows I have to do this- the final letter, the final farewell. I need to say some things to you that are eating at me. I need to clear the debris of our love affair from my heart and make way for new love to enter. I need to do this for me.

You’re an ass. You know this. I know this. Hell, everyone who has ever met you knows this. You’re cocky and self-assured. It’s what drew me to you. I needed that in my life and you had it in spades. You're still an ass and I don't need that anymore.

We were doomed from the start. But I wanted you and had to have you- damn the consequences and whoever else got hurt in the process. Karma bitch slapped me later but you’ve always come out on top. I’ve hated you for that for a long time. It’s time to let go of the hate.

We met through Tony. You were his friend first, and last. I came in fifth or sixth on your list. You were first on mine- always. When he died I thought I lost you then. But you came back to me later….

That last time we tried to be together you broke my heart so deeply that I lept feet first in to a bad relationship just to numb the pain. When you came to me I was taken aback, but glad to finally have you. We’d tried before and couldn’t get it right. This time you asked me if I remembered a letter I wrote to you where I told you that you were the right guy but wrong time. That night you told me “right guy, right time” and my heart was so full and happy. I believed you, in you and in us.

A handful of weeks into our new chapter, you disappeared. That’s when she must have told you she was pregnant. You knew I couldn’t give you this one thing she could. I didn’t know it then- because you lied your way out of my life again- HE, that beautiful little boy, was the reason she won. I know now, hell it doesn’t take a genius to do the math. You should have told me. Instead I beat myself up for not being skinny enough, for not being this or that enough for you. I let your lies tear my heart apart and beat myself up so badly that I endangered my own life to kill the pain you left.

I wouldn’t/ can’t fault you for wanting what I couldn’t give you. I know how much having a namesake meant to you. I will never blame that little boy for being. I blame you for not being man enough to tell me. I blame you for not being the man I deserved. I blame you for letting me down and for letting Tony down- you’ll have to face him sooner than me. You know how much he loved you, how much he loved me. You know how much he hated to have someone hurt me and someone he loved so much to hurt me…. I’m just glad he didn’t see it in person because that would have killed him.

I deleted you from my phone a while back. I had to. I have to let go of the story of us. I have to let go of the what-if’s. I did all I could to show you how much you were loved. I just wish I’d never fallen for you because you never deserved the love I gave you. You didn’t ever deserve my heart. You will never hear from me. I won’t go down that road ever again.

I used to envy her- she had you. But I know that in the long run I’m the one who came out on top- I never lied to you!

Goodbye,

The one who used to love you

London

This is London! She was the 2nd dog that I ever had. She was my first dog love (Petey and I got off to a rough start and she came along just two weeks after he did-lol). She went everywhere with me for the first few weeks I had her- she was so little she fit in the pocket of my overalls and I took her to my college classes.

I have no idea what kind of dog she was. When she was just 9 months old, my husband (now ex) tripped over Petey and landed on London. Her back was badly injured and the vet encouraged me to put her down. I refused. I spent more money on her that I ever spent on myself to make sure she would survive. She was in a full cast for months (Petey tried chewing her out numerous times). Because we were sure she'd never walk again my hubby was about to make her a wheelchair, as he tired to fit it to her she got up and hobbled away. I cried for an hour or so and held her tight. After that I realized I was impeding her recovery, and from then on she had to walk to get things. And she did. She always had a limp and ran with her two back legs working together, but she was the beat the odds.

In 2005 she got really sick and I had to put her down. Thanks to all the meds from her injury her immune system started attacking her. I still cry (am now) when I think of her. She was my lifeline after my divorce as she was the only one I could take with me at first. I loved her more than I ever loved anything (sometimes more than people too). She was my baby and I had to let her go on 9/12/2005 (just four days before my bday). I am still not over her.

To my best little girl- You are so dearly missed. You are my first true love and I will forever be grateful to you for being in my world. I faced more scary things with you beside me than I could have alone. I can't wait to see you again and know you'll be the first one to me as I cross over. Momma loves you so very much my girl!

First Date

It's Wednesday afternoon and I have a FIRST DATE tonight. At 6:30 tonight! With a man I met while out with Cowgirl on Friday night. My tummy is all fluttery and I'm getting nervous and anxious and excited.

I haven't had a date, let alone a FIRST date, since 2006. My last relationship was a one night stand that ended up staying for a few months. We didn't have any real dates; we just sort of stuck together like glue, which is probably why we didn't last very long.

So now I have a first date. A real first date. We're meeting up at a local restaurant so that we can "chat and get to know each other" (his words- yep I about swooned at that!). I am a classic jump first, ask questions later girl- that's why this is a new way of dating for me. I'm meeting him at the restaurant. I'm taking my car, he'll have his. If for some reason it doesn't feel right, I'll leave. 

But y'all I don't think I'll be leaving. I've Googled him, I've checked out his FB (didn't add him but maybe after tonight I will...); I've asked the important questions. He checks out. He has been honest with me. 

So far I know he's got a silly sense of humor like me- he totally understood where I get "I got a 12 inch dick, and a dozen roses. And a pick-up truck. A Hubba Hubba Hubba Hey!" from. He came back with lines from my favorite silly movies (Robin Hood- Men in Tights, Blazing Saddles, Spaceballs, and Airplane). He thinks animals at the zoo having sex are funny because of the uptight mom reactions just like I do. 

He's a daddy and his kids mean the world to him. He works hard, plays hard and thinks communication is key in a relationship. He's got a good imagination and can keep up with how perverted my mind can get. He likes country music which is huge for me thanks to a rotten ex. 

When he sat down next to me at the bar Friday night, I didn't think much of it. Then I noticed he was cute- verified by Cowgirl since I don't trust myself (different blog will post soon). Then when Cowgirl took my picture to send to her hubby of me doing the UT hook 'em horns, he commented "I moved out of the background for you- don't want to be in the landscape." He started the conversation. And it went from there. We laughed, we snorted (well Cowgirl and I did), we ripped on how the band was screwing up perfectly good songs, we were serious a little. As we were being told the bar was closing, he told me I should take his number. I gave him my phone and he put a cute remark in the company info so I'd remember who he was. He walked me (his cousin walked Cowgirl- yes cousin knew she was married) to the door of my van and hugged me. I kissed him on the cheek. It was a great way to meet someone when I wasn't looking.

And since then we've texted every night and day... including that night. Today he let me vent about my minivan being dead (that'll be another blog). He's had me laughing and he's told me he's excited to see me tonight. I've told him that I'm nervous, anxious and excited. He likes how honest I am. I like how honest he is.  

I am not putting the cart before the horse. He will meet my parents before I get serious about him. If my dad or my dog doesn’t like him, he'll be history. And if it doesn't work out, that's okay because I've finally taken the first step in getting back in to the dating world.

I have a FIRST DATE y'all!!!!

~ Composer

Mother's Day 2013

My Dearest Angel-

Today the world celebrates Moms. It’s a bittersweet holiday for me. I am blessed to have my mom still, though for how much longer I don’t know. More of her leaves us each day. It was a good day with her and for her.

But it doesn't fill the hole that is in my heart- the small tiny hole that you left. I found out about you on the day I lost you. Back then it didn't hit me as hard as it does now. I was barely 18 and in a very abusive relationship. I never told my mom about you or my dad- your grandparents. Your dad never even knew about you- I don't think he deserved to know after all the hurt he caused that day and after. There were only three people who knew of you back then. They kept that secret for me- one I’m sure you met the day she came to Heaven. I have told a few about you since then, but never let them see how much I long for you. Today I’ll share a bit of what lies on my mind every year at this time- the time of year you would have been born.

I can’t stop myself from wondering if you’d have been a boy or a girl. I wonder if you’d have had my chubby cheeks, your uncle’s silly grin, or your father’s stubborn ways. Would you have been blonde? Would you have been blessed with rich mocha eyes? Are you a Johanna? Or a Zach? Or would your name have leapt from my lips the moment you were first laid in my arms? I picture you in my mind as the happiest baby ever- the one people would stop to smile at. I can’t help but think of you as simply and only mine. I know that you would have changed my world from what I've known since. You would have been the center of my world. There is nothing I can think of that I wouldn’t have done for you.

I can see in my mind how I would have rocked you every night, how I would have made you giggle during bath time, watched you sleep and cried with you over every illness. I imagine how you’d have been as a toddler- willful and a handful. I can see you on your first day of school (I am sure I would have cried more than you), your first middle school dance and then as an independent teen ready for high school- driving and Prom. This month we would have celebrated your 18^th birthday and graduation from high school all in the span of a few weeks. I would have been the proudest Mom in the crowd.

We weren't able to pass even the smallest milestone together- God had a bigger plan for you and me. I celebrate what might have been every year when I take an hour alone to just miss you. I miss you so much though I never saw your face. I will curl up with our teddy bear, the one I’ve had since I lost you and I’ll hold him close and send all my love to you. Every butterfly I see over the next few weeks will cause me to smile and say a prayer for you because I will know it’s my angel flying by.

Angel mine, I know one day I will finally hold you close. Until then, know this my baby… I am your momma and I love you to the moon and back. There will only ever be you- my one and only you.

Sweet dreams my heart,

Mommy

You're not a lady, you're a drama queen!

4/26/2013- Friday started out GREAT! It was my bestie's- Z- BIRTHDAY! This is the entire reason I was visiting. In the morning Z and I took her girls to lunch and to Target to spend some of their gift cards. Around 4:30 she and I got in the convertible and headed to her other bestie’s house to get ready for Z’s party. While the two of them styled their long locks, I played with F’s two new Chihuahua puppies. OMG! I seriously fell in love with them. Their names are Tattoo (he’s black with white markings) and Chipotle (he’s brown with white markings) and they are so damn little and cute and cuddly and silly. I renamed them George and Max respectively- though I don’t think I told F I renamed them! LOL

We left F’s and head to Chuy’s for dinner around 6:45. It was great because Z didn't know most of the group was meeting us there. She was surprised! We drank, ate, laughed, took a few pics and left. We had plans to hit a country bar or two. We were all ready to put on our dancing shoes and have an epic night.

9:45 pm- At the first bar we all got in free- Ladies Night! Woohoo! Kinda of dead though. We understood why when we got further in. It was old man night. One guy was celebrating his 70^th Birthday. I don’t think there was a man in that bar that was under 50, with most of them in their late 50’s. Don’t get me wrong, I love cowboys, but these men were no George Strait! Not even close. They did give us some good laughs though!

So we hoofed it over to a younger bar. It was packed but they were playing music we could dance too and we did. Most of us were having a great time. Liquor was being consumed, dancing and flirting was happening and laughter was ringing out. We even got Z out on the dance floor once or twice- she thinks she can’t dance but she can with some liquid courage under her belt. Z’s party was going along well!

It was around 1 o’clock in the morning when it happened. One female (#1) got pissed at another (#3) for supposedly leading on the only guy in the group. Words were tossed back and forth between some of the females- mostly #2 screaming at #3 and her friend #4. I wanted nothing to do with it. This shit is so fucking high school it isn’t funny. I was trying to get some of the group to leave. Then #1 decided she needed to throw some punches at #3. Luckily a few other men jumped in and prevented real damage from being done. I forced #1 and #2 and the other 7 of us out of the bar to head home.

WTH? This is Z’s birthday party and suddenly it’s a smack down? What gave you the right to 

wreck her birthday party? And excuse me, #1 and #2, you two want to act all uppity and judgmental- OH HELL NO! You two are the pot calling the kettle black. You have no room, I mean NOT AN INCH, to talk. You do the same thing as you’re accusing #3 of. Its okay for you to have extramarital affairs or be the woman on the side, but it’s wrong for someone else??? I don’t give a flying flip if you choose to do that but don’t go acting all high and mighty when someone you don’t know supposedly does the same shit as you. And don’t act like you were trying to protect the guy. He doesn’t need that kind of protection. He wasn’t under the assumptions you jumped to.  

And as for the guy involved, he wasn’t being led on in his own words. Liquor was flowing and flirting was happening. He and #3 were fine with what was happening. #1 your nose didn’t belong in it, you started the ball rolling because you weren’t the center of attention. Oh wait, that’s right…. That guy is your cash flow. You don’t want anyone to think you’re together- you’re very adamant in saying NO to anyone who asks, but the minute a woman shows interest you get bent out of shape. You can’t have it both ways #1. If you want him, act like it. Don’t just use him for his money. I wonder how much you had to do with his past relationships failing.

I am not friends with #1, #2 or #3 on Facebook or in life. I’d like to be friends with #3. She has a story and I’d like to be a friend to her. As for the other two… you both don’t like me because I see how it really is. Incidentally, #1 was involved in drama one other night we all went out last summer. #2 you didn’t like when I called you out that night. Yes you’re cordial to my face but I’m pretty confident you talk smack about someone you know very little about. I don’t know you well, but I know enough to say I don’t approve of what you do. And #1 you don’t like me at all even though after just meeting you last time (June 2012) I had your back and defended you. After this incident- not ever going to happen again.

What truly pissed me off was that the guy and #3 did all the apologizing. #1 and #2 didn’t get off their high horses at all. They are the ones who not only owe Z an apology for starting shit on, what up to that point, had been a damn good night, but they also owe apologies to #3 and the guy. I know it’s never going to happen though. And that angers me. Just because you were drinking doesn’t mean you have the right to ruin someone else’s celebration. Grow up and apologize. Act like adults and take responsibility for your screw ups and insecurities. It’ll get you further in life than constantly starting drama!

So #3 if you read this, hit me up with a friend request. I’d like to get to know you better and hopefully the next time I’m in Dallas go out again.

And Z, I hope you had a great night. You looked gorgeous all night! I am so glad I was there to celebrate your birthday!!! I love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  

Demon bitch

I haven’t written lately. Well I have but not things I think I can post or should post. Another page admin mentioned on her page how she worries about what she posts and how it will be received. My first reaction was… “Who gives a fuck what anyone thinks.” And then I thought about the people in my life that I am protecting from my demons. Demons that don’t need to destroy any more lives- especially if I can prevent the demons from being known to them.

I am in a funk. It’s right here. I am up to my armpits in its stink. I can feel it- it’s cold and hard and bitter. I don’t like sharing this part of me. But I promised myself I’d be honest and upfront in this blog so here goes. I just pray that God protects the ones I love most from my demons.

When I woke up yesterday I felt pretty good. I had my to-do list that I was ready to tackle. I made it till just after noon before the funk came crawling in. I’m wearing a 30 day heart monitor. It’s been going off on its own. Most of the time it’s been because I moved wrong and the wires pulled. But yesterday it went off twice while I was mopping. Mopping!  The words the tech said to me were these “We’ll let the doctor know about this but it’s not something urgent.” All my other incidents I was told “it was the wire.”

Those words have me worried. And my worry has allowed the demon bitch to come closer than I’d like. I am a worrier. I know this and make a daily effort not to. I hide my anxiety and worry from my parents because Mom only adds to it and Daddy- well hell he has enough on his plate without me adding anything else.

All my life I’ve fought one health issue or another: chronic ear infections that caused tinnitus, endometriosis that ripped me up and took from me the chance to have a biological child, asthma that likes to pop up when all is well, allergies that took seafood out of my diet (yeah I’m still pissy about that one!), fibromyalgia which will never go completely away and NOW a heart issue that may not be fixed. For once, JUST ONCE, I wanted to hit the winning jackpot and have one health issue be completely resolved. But NO… just fucking can’t have that. It’s too much y’all… just too much to handle right now.

The worst part of all this is the not knowing what exactly is going on with my heart. I have all the worst case and best case scenarios running  through my head: pace maker or defibrillator needed, stroke, heart attack, permanent heart damage from having it beat too fast for much too long, just need more time to heal, body hasn’t adjusted yet to the new slower normal heart rate. I have played these out in my head over and over since yesterday afternoon. I have tried to ignore them, distract myself, etc. It’s not working.

I had a very vivid dream of Tony last night. He and I were playing a game and he was winning. He looked at me and said “Shit rolls downhill”. I can’t stop hearing that, thinking that, looking back and seeing that it has been rolling downhill for a long time. And that it’s hard as hell to not get overwhelmed and depressed about it all.

I am here in Denver to make my dad’s life easier and take care of mom. I am supposed to be able to keep up with all the house stuff and keep mom safe. I should be able to for pete's sake- I'm only 36 and it's not rocket science. But I’m not. There’s laundry that needs to be done, dusting that hasn’t been done in months, mopping of more floors that is desperately needed, bathrooms need to be cleaned- scrubbed, vacuuming needs to get done, a yard that needs to be raked and mowed, dog poop that needs to be “discovered” now that the snow is melting, trees that need to be trimmed and bulbs that need to be planted. And there is my own list of goals that needs to be addressed: a novel written, blogs written and posted, letters written, lawsuit papers filled out, purses and tote bags sewn, a blanket knitted and a box sent to my niece for her birthday in 9 days.

I am failing at it all right now; I am failing at living today. I should be grateful for a to-do list, for waking up every day, for being able to be out here to help. Instead I can’t see the forest, the trees, the flowers or the damn bear shitting in the woods. All I can see is the cave I desperately want to crawl into.

If I was still in WI I would crawl in to my cave. I’d turn off my phone, close the curtains in every room, order a pizza, grab some movies and not do a damn thing for two or three days. The dog and I would become one with my recliner, and the bed and I’d be okay- eventually. I’d allow myself to feel all this shit and then decide I’m stronger than my demons. Instead I keep tamping it down. I keep telling everyone I’m fine. I plaster a smile on my face and ignore how bad the cave is calling.

I don’t want to long for the cave, for the refuge it gives me for a short time. I don’t want to feel so overwhelmed that I can’t breathe. I don’t want to hear my demons in my head. I don’t want to have to think about how certain shit has been rolling downhill since I was a child. I don’t want to poison two people who I love so much with the truth of what my childhood really was. I don’t want to still fight those demons. I want them gone. I want them out of my head. I want to not feel guilt, shame, anger and desperation over things I couldn’t control. I want to not miss Tony so much. I want to not feel like my life ended the day his did. I want to celebrate his life and not see his death when the demon bitch comes too close to me. I want with all my heart to forget all the bad shit that has happened in the last five and a half years and remember only the good.

I do. I truly do. And most days I can. It’s the days like today that I remember it all. I remember the anguish, the betrayal, the guilt- every bad feeling I’ve ever had. I see every bad choice, every wrong turn. I can’t stop the bad from replaying over and over in my head. I don’t want to eat, I’m not really hungry but I end up eating stuff I shouldn’t and then I get down on myself for my weight. I pull away from friends. I am tired and all I want to do is sleep. I taste the sadness, the fear, the failure.

I know in a day or two this will pass. And I guess that’s an improvement. I can finally realize its coming and try to handle it better. These bad days are coming less often now. The intensity is still as high as it ever was and maybe it always will be. I don’t know.

All I can do is use the tools I’ve been given by therapists, friends and God, to get through this. I know I can and will. Tonight as I lay down I’ll recite Our Father and ask for the help I need to beat the demon bitch back once again. Tomorrow is a new day… and maybe tomorrow I’ll see the bear and offer him some toilet paper so he can go on with his day and I can smell the flowers. 

~The Composer

Fixed!

At 10:00 a.m. I was wheeled back in to the EP lab. I wasn’t scared till I got in there. I had been listening to my iPod and praying before that. I was moved and moved again on the cold hard table, sticky pads were attached that would help direct the doctor as he mapped out my heart’s electrical system and defibrillator pads were placed on me just in case. One of the nurses, Sally, noticed that I was getting scared by all the chat that was going on. She explained that the lab had just been updated and I was being used as a training exercise for a couple for the nurses to learn how the new magnet worked and how exact you had to place the sticky tabs. Sally was very sweet to me. She asked about my tattoos and kept calling me sweetheart. I wish she had been able to stay right next to me the entire time.

I remember being really frightened at all the people in the room; I counted six without knowing exactly how many were in the observation room with all the monitors. I tried to smile but instead two tears ran down my face. Sally wiped them away and ran a reassuring hand over my forehead. She told me she had to drape my groin area and my neck. I turned my head to the left and it stayed there for the next 3 and a half hours. I was given drugs to calm me and make me not feel all the pain. I dozed off just as the doctor came in. I remember he said he’d take good care of me and I was out.

I awoke to feeling a lot of pressure on my groin and I felt him push the catheter in through the groin. It was too much, I passed out.

The next thing I remember is feeling my heart beat in my upper right stomach. I gasped and tears flowed. The nurse administering the meds rushed over and gave me a bit more. I felt it burn as it when into my arm. I could see the monitors at that point. I watched my pulse go from 119 to 189 and felt my stomach beat violently again. My eyes must have widened in fear because the nurse told me they were still testing and smiled at me.  It was then that she must have realized I could see the monitor because she turned it away from me.

I don’t know if ten minutes or thirty passed but I next felt a burning sensation in my chest. I moaned and the doctor told me he was ablating the area. HOLY HELL it was uncomfortable. I felt like he had a curling iron in there! The nurse gave me some more meds and I relaxed again.

I woke up again to my stomach surging. It is a feeling I hope to never have again. It’s like an alien has decided it no longer wants to reside inside you and is trying to break out by brutally pulsating your chest and stomach. The doctor didn’t talk to me this time. He was pressing so hard on my groin area that I thought he might break my pelvis. I think I passed out for a few minutes.

A small voice said “ouch, ouch” and I realized it was me. The nurse added more meds to my IV and the pain eased up but I’d already felt the 2^nd burn. This time it was hotter and lasted longer. What I didn't know at the time was that it was actually the third time they were ablating the bad section. This was the 2^nd time in the same place. Between the scorching feeling in my heart and the digging at my groin, I was ready to be done. I was on the verge of telling him that when he said, “GOT IT!”

I was relieved because I don’t think I could have handled another round of pulsating and burning. The dr. told me he fixed me and then left the room to go see my parents. Sally brushed the tears away and the team pulled the catheters out but left the sheaths in.

I was back in my recovery room when three nurses came in to pull the sheaths out. I had one in my neck, one in my left groin area and one in the right groin area. The sheaths allow the doctor to thread the catheters in to your heart via your veins, not my arteries, just like they do for when you have an IV. The sheaths are very, very, very uncomfortable. All my pain and relaxation meds had worn off by this time. I just wanted the pain of them to go away. I was grateful this group of nurses does the pulling as a team. I don’t think I could have waited the 20 minutes between each pulling. One by one they took them out and then held pressure on the points for 20 minutes.

I received a shot of pain meds after that. THANK GOODNESS! Not only was my neck extremely sore from being in one position for 3 hours, but my groin was aching. I cried silently until my mom walked in. Then I smiled and let all the fear go. I wanted her to see I was okay plus the crying didn’t stop the throbbing. Mom kissed my hand because she couldn’t reach my head, and dad kissed my forehead. I was allowed to order food about 30 minutes later. By the time it arrived my stomach was growling so loud that mom asked if I had a bear in there. I ate an omelet, toast and strawberry Jell-O cubes in a half sitting up position. You have to stay horizontal for the first hour after they pull the sheaths, then you get to sort of sit up. Then at the 3 1/2 hour mark you get to sit up ramrod straight. Twenty minutes after that you can get up to walk.

Dr. Kim came to see me just after I woke up from my hour nap. I had dozed off after eating but jolted myself awake when I let go of the remote. My pulse went up to 79. Dr. Kim was all smiles as he told me I was a perfect patient as I didn’t move a muscle the entire time. Apparently he didn’t know I cried. He told me I did have SVT, but after the third burn it was fixed. He said I topped out at 191 beats per minutes and that once they hit the perfect spot the 2^nd time I instantly dropped to 69 beats per minutes. He said “You’re cured!” and I grinned. Dad’s face showed pure relief. He told me I didn’t need any BP meds anymore either. I have to see him in a month to double check but he’s confident it’s fixed. He did add that from the way it reacted to the testing that my heart had been having this issue for at least two years.  

At 5:30 p.m. the nurse, Steph, came in and got me out of bed. She was a wonderful nurse- she had me giggling before (we were talking about those People of Wal-Mart emails) and after the procedure. She was gentle and kind. As she checked my groin wounds she warned me that Dr. Kim had been very messy, and by all that is holy she was right. She left me alone to use the restroom and I kid you not, if Steph hadn’t warned me I would have thought I had my period which is impossible since I don’t have a uterus! As good a doctor as he is, he left a lot of blood behind. I was shocked by the sight of it. However, I shrugged it off because my pulse was back to being low. And that’s all I wanted! After making two laps my BP was 117/83 and my pulse was 70. Hallelujah!

I was released at 5:45 pm. I felt so weird. I was used to feeling my heart beat so hard and suddenly I couldn’t feel it. I still am waiting for it to speed up today. But it hasn’t and I don’t think it will. I went to bed after NCIS LA but didn’t sleep like I thought I would. I couldn’t get comfortable because I knew that I could start bleeding in the groin area again if I moved wrong. I kept my cell phone right next to me throughout the night.

I was able to find a bit of relief after taking ibuprofen at 6 a.m. and lying on my right side. The muscles in my neck and groin hurt like hell. The best way I can think to describe the discomfort is to tell you I feel like I had a very long night of rough sex but without the orgasm. I am walking a bit bowlegged and sitting in one spot too long causes me to ache. And you don’t want to see the bruises. Oh my, they are dark and large already. They cover the top of my groin area, part of my inner thighs and a bit of the tops of my thighs. My neck has a nice bruise coming up too. I look like I have been choked on that side.

I will gladly take this discomfort. My heart feels normal and the sensation of it working so hard is easing up. My chest is tight but with each cough I get it to loosen up and relax. I had been taking shorter and shallower breaths for the past few months, I have to retrain my lungs to take nice deep breaths. Dr. Kim did tell my parents and me that it will take a few weeks for my heart to retrain itself. I can already tell a difference in it as the day passes. I started out this morning feeling it still working hard, now as I type it’s lessening though you can still count my pulse by watching my fleece jacket move.

The moment of pure relief and joy (with tons of tears) was after I was downstairs this morning and came back up less than three minutes later. I took my BP and it was normal with a pulse of 66 compared to 123 on Monday! I am blessed that it’s fixed and that I can start getting back to the woman I used to be a few years ago.  

I know all the prayers sent out on my behalf are why the procedure went well and how good I feel today. Tony made sure I knew he was there too. How? Here are the songs that came up on my iPod as I waited to be wheeled back:

1.  I Believe by Diamond Rio  (a song about angels… the song I turn to a lot)

    

     2.  Sing Me Back Home by Merle Haggard (music soothes me and this song is all about how a song can take you home)

     

     3.  Joseph’s Lullaby by MercyMe (my favorite lullaby… its Joseph singing to his   newborn son telling him to just be his son for this one night. I love the story of this one)

     

     4.  You’ll Be There by George Strait (one of my all-time favorite songs- knowing that your loved one will be there when you get to Heaven, what more can you ask)

     

     5.  Why Not Now by George Strait (I was thinking about love and what it means. Plus there’s a line about “no one knows about tomorrow” and it was Tony’s way of telling me to be in the moment)

     

     6.  You Can’t Make a Heart Love Someone by George Strait ( I was praying about lost love when this one started)

     

     7.   Burn by Jodee Messina (I think he was being sassy with this one!)

     

     8.   What a Wonderful World by Rod Stewart (I was praying for continued blessings for my family and friends)

     

     9.   Vincent by Josh Groban (a song that I really like and always calms me)

   

   10.   Amazing Grace by Lari White (it’s my favorite gospel song)

   

   11.   Love Song by Miranda Lambert (I was praying for a true love if I made it through the procedure when this one started)

   

   12.   The Only Promise that Remains by Reba and Justin Timberlake (every time I hear this song I think of Tony leading me to where I need to be)

   

   13.   Meant to Be by Tracy Lawrence (TL is my favorite country singer and this song is one of my top faves of his. Tony knows how much I take comfort in TL’s songs. And he was telling me I was where I was meant to be)

   

   14.   With Arms Wide Open by Creed (I know he was trying to tell me he’ll be there at the gates waiting for me when it’s time. I also think he was trying to remind me to go for the dream)

   

   15.   Forever and Ever, Amen by Randy Travis (even though he’s in heaven, the bond is forever)

   

   16.   I’d Come for You by Nickleback (16 happens to be my lucky number and Tony wanted me to know he was there and that he wouldn’t let me down. I didn’t get to hear the entire song I just saw that it was 16 and the title.)

     I needed no further proof he was there. I felt him and heard his messages loud and clear. And today starts the beginning of following the dream I’ve always had in me! 

     THANK YOU for all the prayers and support. I love and cherish each one of you!

     ~ The Composer