This has been put off long enough....

Katie, our lovely boxer had to be put to sleep.  Her knee was blown out the way athlete's do.  I think theirs is called ACL, but with a dog it is called CCL.  After going to the Vet and having her physical and shot, her leg was in extreme pain.  She spent the night pacing and panting.  I gave her pain pills and benedryl, and it would not come close to touching the pain.  I stayed up with her, trying to calm her, thinking, no praying, it was just the anxiety of the day at the Vets.  Katie was never out of the house unless it was to get a shot, so going somewhere in the car was very stressful on her.

The next day wasn't much different.  She was walking on it like nothing was wrong, but when you went to touch it, she would turn around and give you "the look".  We knew what was coming, and tried to give each other the talk about how we would be doing it for the right reasons, for Katie not to be in pain any longer.  Which is true, but here is the story:

We got Katie when she was around 6 weeks old, and she was the unwanted white boxer puppy of the litter.  I didn't want a puppy, but Charles and my son Jeffrey talked me into it because she was going to die.  Breeders do not want a white boxer, and they don't want anyone to know they had a white boxer when people come to inspect their litter mates.  So, Katie was kept in the garage by herself, while her litter mates were in the house, nice and warm with mom and dad.  Did I tell you she was born in January when it was freezing cold??  So after counting each one of the ribs on her, and watching her shake her way over to me, just wanting to be held, how could I say no?  But, the deal was we would keep her until we could find a good home for her.  And we did.  US!  She was so weak that I carried her wrapped up in a blanket like a baby, rocked her in a chair while I was on the computer until she was asleep, and carried her over the grass to do her duty because her paws were raw from the cold concrete.   She had sores on her hips bones where her bones actually poked through.

Then I got sick, and was in bed for the next few weeks to come.  Katie would learn to love the water bed.  I took her out every morning then grabbed her toys and back to my bed we went for the day.  This is where she grew up.  She became the calmest, quietest, most loving boxer anyone could ever ask for.  She never barked.  She always knew when I was sick, or in pain.  Every night when I would sneak out of bed to get into a hot bathtub, Katie would get up and sit outside the door waiting on me, never leaving until I was back in bed, safe and sound.  If I was in there too long, she would come lean her head over the tub and let me know she was really tired and wanted to go back to bed herself, but she wouldn't.  She had a bed in her crate, a bed in the living room, and a bed next to my side of the bed..but if I was sick on the couch, her bed was right next to me on the floor by the couch, until she felt I was better.  Even up to the end, she stayed by my side, pain and all.

Katie was the easiest dog to train.  She knew all the tricks, sit, shake, roll over..you know the main ones.  But she also learned to sneeze.  One day I was eating grapes, and yes, I know you aren't supposed to feed dogs grapes, and this was before I knew that.  Charles said she was a begging dog, but I said we shared food...she while we were sharing some grapes, I started to give her a bite, but I started to sneeze, a few times in a row.  Katie stared at me, and slowly started to nod her head, trying to figure out what I was asking of her.  Once I noticed, I gave her a bite...pretended to sneeze, she would do it alittle harder , and then harder..until she sneezed!!  From that point on, you would tell her to sneeze, and she would. 
She also figured out "cheese time".  Some how, 6 p.m. because snack time around here.  Poor Katie didn't have a snack, so I gave her a piece of cheese.  It didn't take long for her to demand that she get something at 6 p.m.  She would stand in front of the TV and stare at you.  Now, I mean she would literally stare you down until you moved your head, and then she would move hers to match yours. (anything to block your view)  She would continue this until someone would start laughing which then she would get excited and run into the kitchen, and stare at the refrig, or just make a lap and come right back and stare at you some more.  Sometimes I would forget and she would get right in my face with those big eyes, and stare me down, and when I would ask her what she wanted, Charles would laugh and ask me what time it was, and off to the kitchen she would run.

Katie had a great life.  She was very, very spoiled, and was almost 10 yrs. old which is old for a boxer, especially one with the starting in life that she had.  She also had congestive heart failure and crappy hips as well.  I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't have about 30 toys at one time.  She knew every time we came home with a plastic bag, she could stick that pug nose in it and find something that was for her.  She has 3 beds, so if one wasn't cool enough or warm enough for her, one of the others would be.  We always has a fan running for her since the congestive heart made her panic some, so it would always be the place she would go to when she felt she couldn't breathe.  Treats, I can't even count the treats that she would get, and she knew which cupboard had which treat in it, so depending on which mood she was in dictated which cupboard she ran to and stared at until you showed up.  Pillows and blankets...she had them too.  So many beside my bed that getting up in the middle of the night was a trick trying to toe tap on everything to figure out which was a blanket, pillow or Katie, so I could stand up and get to the bathroom....and as always, her right behind me.

It is so quiet here at home, and I do just about anything not to be here.  I miss her terribly.  I am still finding her little white hair in places, which brings on the tears, and the memories.  Charles and I were with her until the end.  She was quiet and out of pain, and it was much harder on us than it was on her.  I swear I hear her at night, her little tags clanking together, or her heavy sigh at night by my side of the bed when she is trying to get comfortable.  I never thought I could love a dog like I love her...but she wasn't a dog, she was our best friend.  

I have decided that my frustration is with myself, for putting up with the Doctors insensitivity and complete lack of compassion, and my lack of willpower (ie: balls) to stand up to them, and for myself.

I went to my Doctor to discuss my leaving the trial for Gastroparesis, and getting off the medication, Domperidone.  Right off the bat, he wasn't pleased.  The nurse, on the other hand, tried to interrupt his train of thought, and inform him that the other Doctors had instructed me to come to him to inform him that I had been vomiting for over a month, and had been having severe abdominal pain for the same amount of time.  Well, much to my surprise, he sat back into his chair, and informed me that he was ONLY seeing me because I was in his Gastroparesis study!  The nurse must have seen the "deer in the headlights look" because she stumbled all over herself to get into the conversation, letting him know, again, that I was being referred to him, by other Doctors, (as that would make if official) to see what was wrong with me.  I added, that the previous Doctors thought that because my SI joints had fused, that some times some diseases such as Crohn's, etc, went along with it.

With a HUGE sigh, he sat up and looked at the computer...my chart...and said my blood work was fine, and since I had a colonoscopy and endoscopy 4 YEARS ago, he couldn't see anything wrong.  Does nothing change in 4 years???  Has he read my chart?? Was an exam too much to ask ?   He then preceeded to tell me what to eat for the Gastroparesis, and asked me what medication I had tried before, (reglan) and then told me to take it again. HELLO...are you not listening to me??  Obviously not! (giving up)

I have been to four Doctors.  Each one telling me that they don't know what is wrong with my stomach, but they are sending me to someone that will....one gave me an appointment with an Orthopedic, a bone specialist! 

The clinic that I go to, has now combined with their hospital, and some of the Doctors have made the decision to leave.  Three of my Doctors have left, going to other places where they are allowed to continue to accept all their perks, as this clinic has now become a non-for profit group.

 I have to think this has become a money issue...and I don't have any!  This clinic has been known for not accepting poor people, but I was lucky and got in~ ~ or was I?  It has taken me 6 weeks to be passed between four Doctors, and I haven't a clue what is going on with  the pain in my stomach, and I have even less of a clue what to do about it, or where to go.

I am going to the Orthopedic appointment,  because I was referred there.  I am looking forward to the look on his face when I ask him what his opinion is with the pain in my stomach, as that is the reason for my referral!!  Priceless!  Though, I am going to take advantage of his specialty, and see what he might be able to do for my SI joints, and hip joints.  (new x rays show moderate amounts of arthritis and bone spurs in both hip joints)  I attend a pain clinic that does injections for those, but would love to get a second opinion if I could sneak one in...

I don't want to make this political,  I want everyone to have medical insurance, but if this is what is to come for "us poor people", I am really worried about the care we are going to get ... or not get.  I can't imagine how many people like me...poor...are going to be passed on to Doctor after Doctor, not getting the treatment they deserve, while the Doctors are trying to see as many patients, as quickly as they can, to make up for the insurance reimbursements they have lost out on.  Who is going to suffer?  We are...I feel like I already am, and I am frustrated as hell.

I went to my doctors appointments, and was passed on down the line from one referral, to the next.

I had started at the Nurse Practitioner, who did some tests to rule out that my appendix was acting up, or that I had kidney stones.  Both were negative.  She then agreed with the CT Scan that I had had 3 years ago, it was probably adhesions, and referred me to a surgeon, but we couldn't get in for 2 weeks.  This means a month with new pain, unknown pain. 
 OK, we can do this...end in sight.

We get to the new surgeon, and the appointment was quick.  I took Charles in with me...my witness on not only how I get treated, but maybe some intimidation for them to do their job.  (yeah, right..next time, bring a big stick with us)
She runs through what the previous visit was like, and lets us know right away that she disagrees with her opinion, and feels that it is a pulled muscle.  After 5 weeks??  She wants to do an ultrasound, which I have never seen done for a pulled muscle.  Charles jumps in and explains to her some of my history of negative stress tests, but then a quadruple bypass, medication to calm you down, and I am wired for days..etc.  So, she them says that maybe a CT Scan would be better, but then she wants me to get an evaluation at Physical Therapy.  I refuse telling her I have already completed it, but she asked if I would just get the evaluation part..and then I can make up my mind from there.  None of this is making sense to me, but I agree, mainly out of totally frustration of being passed on again.  She does tell me that the only way of finding adhesions is to open me up and looking, and with "my medical history", they don't want to do that unless they absolutely have to.  (ahhhhh, she already read my chart)

So we left, the nurse made all the appointments for us.  I had the CT Scan, which of course came back normal, and I cancelled my evaluation with the Physical therapist.  By this time, the pain has reached from my back, around to my right hip bone, across my stomach to my left hip bone and down my right thigh. 

Nobody is listening.

I have my appointment with the pain clinic.  I tell her how frustrated I am for being passed around.  She tells me this is now the norm.  Doctors are all specialist, and once you reach the end of what they do, they pass you to the next one.  But no one is talking to eachother!!!  She said they are, through your chart!!  ARE YOU KIDDING ME???  She didn't know anything about the pain getting worse, and moving to my lower stomach area..so either she wasn't reading it, or someone didn't document it well.  She did tell me I could get a second opinion, which I will since my Rheumatologist was fired!!  See, there is something positive about all of this!!! 

She decided to do pelvic x rays to see if "it" has spread to my hip joints, or something has happened to my SI joints to make this worse.  She did use the word, "Sacroiliitis", and that I needed more injections into my SI joints.

I had my pelvic and SI joint area x rays completed.  There were 2 white lines across each side of my hips.  Long story about the tech trying to take care of me.  Hope nothing is broken.  Find out tomorrow, I hope.  Then I have to decided if I want more injections....need to make a lot of decisions actually.

More waiting....More being passed on....I still don't know anything.  Am I frustrated at them for not doing their job, or am I frustrated at m for not making them do their job?
  I do not want to become one of those screaming idiots you see in the waiting rooms..you know the ones, the ones that get things done, but no one likes them, and they talk about them at their dinner tables at night.  Why..Why do I have to become one of those people in order to get things done...the first time?
So frustrated!

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Just wanted to ad a note about the different name. The "LaughandCry" came from Charles thinking about what people usually say when life gets to them.."well, we could laugh OR cry..." Well, we usually said not for us, we were laughing AND crying because our situation would change so often, it brought tears or fear, anger, joy, sadness...you name it, and it also brought laughter. Sometimes just out of pure surrender. You reach the point of just giving it over to your "God" of your understanding..and in order to keep some sort of sanity, you have to let it go. Well, along with that came laughter. So, long story short...LaughANDcry.

It's been a long, not so good week for me, and I was playing around with this blog..well, honestly staring at it blankly..and I thought maybe I should ad, "living a life with Chronic Pain", because that is also what it is about, basically. Our life, what it is like to have to deal with it, live with it, life that has changed because of it...sometimes on a dime.
It might make it more depressing at times, but, we do have a sense of humor about it, and for some reason, I can't seem to show it. There is also a horrible dark side, another side that I haven't been able to show. But maybe now that I have "named" it, for what it is...it will become, what it is. It's been a long, not so good week for me, and I was playing around with this blog..well, honestly staring at it blankly..and I thought maybe I should ad, "living a life with Chronic Pain", because that is also what it is about, basically. Our life, what it is like to have to deal with it, live with it, life that has changed because of it...sometimes on a dime.
It might make it more depressing at times, but, we do have a sense of humor about it, and for some reason, I can't seem to show it. There is also a horrible dark side, another side that I haven't been able to show. But maybe now that I have "named" it, for what it is...it will become, what it is.

Yesterday, I get a phone call from the Nurse Practitioner that I seen over a week ago.  She called to tell me that she was sorry for her nurses not giving me the results of my blood work in a timely manner.  She also wanted to know if I understood all of my blood work results, and if I was comfortable with the Surgeon that she had choosen for me.  Can you believe this?  An apology??  She also offered pain medication since I still had a few days before I seen the surgeon, and she knew it would be a few more days before I could have the actual surgery.  She is awesome!!

Tomorrow, I will see this surgeon and we will decide what we will do about all this pain, and if she thinks, as the Nurse Practitioner does, that I have adhesions, and that they need to be removed.  Usually, the Doctors will wait for my cardiologist approval to get off the plavix, and then I stop it for 7-10 days before any procedure.  Well, I stopped it last Saturday, because I have to have this done, because I cannot live with this pain much longer.  I am not waiting for the permission from my cardiologist, because I know he will give it, if they deem this surgery is going to make me painfree.  So, I am praying that the surgery date is going to be within a week or so.

From what I understand, this surgery is just a few holes in the belly, find all the scar tissue, cut it out, put some tape on the holes, and go home.  As long as my heart doesn't give them any fits, I will be good to go.  I don't feel there should be any problems, only less pain, and I am so looking forward to it.  :)

I will write tomorrow and let everyone know what her decision is going to be, and hopefully when my surgery is going to be.


Until then....

 Well, this is what Charles keeps telling me. I think this is more to cheer me up than to explain why nothing "seems" to be going right, and I am willing to take all the blame for it.

In the last 30 days, we have made plans to go camping, twice, and has it happened, even once? Nope. And both times, it has been because of my health. First time, old problems creaping back into our lives. Second time, a new problem surprising us, and at a most inconvenient time.

The first time, we were going to go camping, just about an hour from home. We went shopping, got food, packed our clothes, everything was ready. We drove out to the campsite and I thought this one paticular site was going to be fantastic. It was on a dead end spot. There were 2 right next to eachother. Huge beautiful trees covering the area, so it would be nice and cool, day and night, and the river was running right next to them. Sounds great doesn't it? I thought so. Then the rain came, but that was ok, because it was going to stop before the weekend, but what I hadn't counted on was all that humidity.

Now, as you might remember, a few weeks ago, I started on a new medication to keep my heart rate down and it was to keep me from fainting, and basically feeling horrible. Well, this new little pill is doing it's job as far as keeping my heart rate slow. I have never had a heart rate so low before, but sad to say, all those feelings are still there as if my heart rate is still 180. I can't breath, I am light headed, almost fainting, shaking, and the most horrible fatigue, I am lucky to walk to the car without someone holding onto my hand. Now put all this with the humidity, and camping doesn't seem like much fun after all. Maybe with an oxygen tank, or two. Ha ha.

Since there were going to be quit a few people camping there that weekend, we decided that we wouldn't stay there at night, but ride down there every day, visit, and then come home. If I could handle that okay the first day, we would go the next day...the next..well, you get the picture.

The first night, I had an awesome time. We rode there with another couple, and I got to see a lot of people that I had not seen in years. Lot of hugging, kissing and I miss you's. It was great! There was the biggest campfire that I had ever seen. We stayed for a little over an hour, and decided to ride into town to eat. 3 other couples rode back with us, and one couple split off so it was the 6 of us that went to eat and talk, and talk and talk. It was wonderful. We hadn't just sat and talked to other people for...well, what seems like forever. But, I have to admit, I was so exhausted already.

I love riding in the dark. It feels so cool, the roads aren't so crowded, and it seems like Charles and I are the only ones out there for miles. I can lay my head on his back, close my eyes, and just relax and not have to think or worry about anything. All these medical problems, for awhile, just do not exsist.....did I say for awhile?

We went back to the campground another evening, and again we had a wonderful time. But by that night, I couldn't go on. Once I got into bed, I was there for 2 days. Not sleeping, just couldn't get the energy to get up and move around. I hurt all over, my hips were screaming at me, reminding me that they are fused together and why in the world would I put them through all this?? (unmedicated even!!)
And the best part, in one week, we were going camping for 7 days!!! *whew* This was a vacation for us to RELAX!!!! Remember that...RELAX!! But, after a couple days of rest, I was slowly back up and walking again...on to the next adventure.

Monday night, I sneezed. Shouldn't be a big deal, nothing to blog about, tell your friends about, or get on the phone begging for a doctor to see you ASAP about, right?? Wrong! I even got on facebook asking all my female friends who the best OB/GYN is in our area, not just the one you would go to, but the one that you would refer your best friend forever to!! (because we take far better care of our BFF's that we do ourselves) Got a Doc's name, and was on the phone in a heartbeat....my faster heartbeat, not a normal heartbeat, this was serious. ha ha What happened was, when I sneezed, I felt like I was stabbed in my right side, over and over again, turning that knife and twisting it, just to make sure it was in there!! OMG!!! I couldn't move, I couldn't breath..all I could do was hold my breath and pray it would go away soon. It did, but just not soon enough.

About 3 years ago, I had something like this happen, only farther up my right side. Charles took me to the ER, because we thought it was my gallbladder. It wasn't, they said. They couldn't see anything on the CT Scan, and because I had had so many abdominal surgeries, it was probably something called "adhesions". They don't like to remove them because even the removal will cause more of them...and sent me home. (after loading me up on Morphine)

I got into the Nurse Practitioner on Friday afternoon. She had a few ideas. 1. Kidney stone. 2. Appendix 3. Adensions. Plan would be check urine for blood, for kidney stones, check blood for white cells, if elevated for appendix. If both were negative, she would "hook me up with a good surgeon" to get rid of the adhesions because she feared they were attached to my bladder and intestines, and when I sneezed, (that is what I am feeling), and she was afraid it could rip my bladder or intestine.

SO, I was to call back for the "stat" order results, and the next plan at 4 p.m.

I called at 4 p.m., all was negative, I asked who the surgeon was going to be, and who was going to make the appointment, them or me? The very slow reply was.... "what are you talking about" Seems, as my luck would have it, she left for the day...oh wait, it gets better..and took some vacation days, until Monday the 14th...and didn't leave any instructions for me!!! Now, how does this lead up to the camping trip???

Our next camping trip was to start tomorrow, and end on the 14th. (are ya smiling God??)

This was supposed to be our vacation for this year because, well, because we really can't afford to go to florida this year, or Maine..get the idea? We were going to relax in lawn chairs, have a beautiful campfire, there is a really lovely beach there, take some walks. It's a beautiful place. Take some rides on the bike. Just have some fun doing whatever we wanted to do. BUT...we decided that it would be best that we stick closer to home, closer to the hospital that at least knows what 42 pills I take each day, than to risk falling and ripping something, or having that one big sneeze not knowing where we are. I have to remind myself, I am on blood thinners, and if I do rip something inside, it will bleed rather quickly.

Do you ever start to think that with the snap of your fingers, you can ruin the entire summer? I try hard to tell myself, that I really have no control over this. I don't plan it. I am sorry it happens. WHY it always happens in the summer and fall is beyond me. Why it can't happen when it's freezing outside and nobody wants to get their tired old butt up and outside anyway.

I really am grateful for everything, and everyone that I have in my life, but, it's just so frustrating to be in pain all the time, "feel" you are dependent on people, when you worked so hard to get your independence, you had so many things you wanted to do before you died, and you know in your heart that these things will never happen, now you have forgotten what they were. And then, you start to wonder why you are even here.

Then, last night, our dear friend Brenda calls us up, needing some help moving something. When we got to her house, she called me inside, so excited to show me her NEW house that SHE had just purchased. She was so proud, and I was so proud for her. She has worked SO hard to get her life back in order, and she also now has custody of her daughter. What an accomplishment! Just seeing that pride in her face was pricless. You know that feeling where your heart just swells up in your chest just watching it all?..and it sure knocked me off my pitty pot!! Thank you Brenda!!

See, I've been throwing myself one huge pitty pot. Believe me, I can have a nice one too, with every fixin available, and not invite one single fucking person. Somehow I have to see that I didn't ask to be sick. I take my medications to keep myself going. I do the things the Doctors tell me to do. I have out lived my life expectancy by years, so it is working. I probably do more damage by pushing myself sometimes because I don't want to hurt peoples feelings, or ruin others good times by being the big wuss of the group.

Acceptance. Ouch! I think I'll save that for another day...but I won't wait too long. These pitty parties are getting too expensive

I got a call from my Cardiologist's nurse telling me to take off my 30 day heart monitor, and mail it back to them. It had only been 14 days, to the day. I ask her what they found out. She states, "I don't know, I was just to pass on the message to take it off and mail it back". Seriously? She has worked in Cardiology now for some time, does she not yet realize just how paranoid we get over every little change in our routines? Please!

"Could you please have him call me ASAP?"

"of course"

2 hours later, he calls, and bless his heart, talks to me for every second that I need him to, explaining every little detail that I need him to..over and over and over.

He confirms that I have Diabetic Neuropathy, he also tells me that I have "sinus tachycardia", which at that point I am thinking, "no big deal", because that just means having a fast heart beat, and we already knew that..right? Then he tells me he is sorry, that I have a "special" kind....yeah, of course I do, I always have a special kind. I have a special heart, remember. One that no one has seen before. Anyway...

I have Inappropriate Sinus Ttachycardia. (IST) Which means that when I get up to go to the bathroom, my heartbeat starts out at a normal beat, such as 68-72, then jumps to 160 before I even get to the bathroom. That explains why I am out of breath, tired, and feel like I am going to faint. My blood pressure remains at 90/50. Since I didn't do anything but sit around, go to bed, and go to the bathroom, we really have no idea what my heart rate will go up to during strenuous activity. During my bathroom trips, it was 160. (I have since counted to around 200, but losing count all the time because it's so fast, or irregular?)

I also have Dysautonomia, which I believe is about the same as the Diabetic Neuropathy. Anything that is Automatic in your body, breathing, heartbeat, digestion, body temp, circulation, etc...mine is a mess. It is no longer "auto- matic" I already take pills for my food to digest, wear a zipper hoodie all year round to take on and off quickly to regulate my body temperature, expect for the freezing hands and feet, there is nothing to be done there...sorry Charles!!, My pupils. My Eye Doctor couldn't figure out why it was so painful for me to go out into the sun..SOMETIMES. He kept testing me, and couldn't find anything wrong. Well...it seems that dilation of your pupils is another automatic thing, and sometimes one or both of mine will do it when they choose to. And when they choose not to, it's like when the Eye Doctor dilated your eyes in his office and you walk out in the sun without any sun glasses. OUCH! Breathing, there isn't anything I can do about that other than walk slowly. Being careful about doing activities after I eat. My heart rate is going to be regulated by changing my medication, again.

To give you an idea of the amount of medication I'll be taking just for my heart rate, my father just had his second open heart and he takes 10 mg of atenolol, I am now taking 100 mg of it to keep my pulse down. So far, it seems to be working better than what I was on. The main side effect I have noticed is that I am even more tired that I was before. Not pleasant. Not pleasant for others to have to deal with either.

As time goes on, there are other effect that aren't so pleasant that may pop up. My medication that I take to eat may not work any longer, so they are working on a stomach pacemaker to jolt the stomach to work. The intestines may stop working, or work TOO much, and the control of them and the bladder may be gone. Just think of everything that your body does that you don't tell it to....that is what will be effected.

How do you explain to people that a 48 yr. old women is exhausted, all the time. The savella I take is helping a great deal with the pain, so there goes that excuse to be in bed. I have no excuse but I am SO tired. By 4 p.m. I can barely keep my eyes open, by 4:30 p.m. I am asleep. By 10 p.m., I am awake and watching movies, or watching Charles sleep thinking how lucky I am that I have someone that is so supportive of me, and tries so very hard to understand what is going on. Thank God he goes into the Doctor's office with me, and asks questions so he can be just as informed as I am! How did I ever get so blessed??

I am praying that I will adjust to this medication, quickly, and will feel normal. Normal, now there is a word I don't usually use. I don't even know what it is, or what to use about myself to compare it to. It's been so many years now that "something" has been going on, I wouldn't know what normal is.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, a week before her birth I noticed my legs were huge! The next few days, I couldn't put on my shoes. The next few days, couldn't put them on even without the laces. I really didn't feel good, but I think it came up on me so slowly that I was tolerating it well enough, I didn't feel the need to go to the doctor. If I had woken up, and BAM, swollen everything and sick, it would have been a different story. The day I delivered her, I was at the hospital, walking into the ER and stopped to go into the restroom and looked into the mirror, and noticed my eyes were just slits, my face was so swollen. Why I hadn't noticed this before? Don't know. Guess maybe because I had a 5 1/2 yr old and a 10 month old..who knows, but it just hit me, I was very sick and better hurry!!

When they seen me, they all knew. My blood pressure was 220/190 and I was very sick. Padded the rails, turned off the lights for seizure precautions. Lucky for me, I have never had a labor longer than 4 hours, that being this one, and all went well. Both of us survived okay. A few weeks later, I realized how good I felt...Normal!! I also then realized just how SICK I felt as well. I had something to compare it to. It has been so long now that I don't have that feeling to compare it to now. THIS has become normal to me!

I am so sad that my sister Chris didn't have a Doctor that caught on to what she was going through. I now understand all her symptoms of not being able to breath, the horrible fatigue, her racing heartbeat, and the all over body pain. All the Doctors she went to see could not find anything wrong with her. Clear chest x ray, normal blood work..nothing. They would send her home making her feel like she was just lazy and paranoid that her cancer had come back. Nope. I don't think so. She had been diabetic about 10 years longer than I have, and on insulin alot longer as well.

Don't get me wrong. I am so happy that we finally have a name to part of what I have. There isn't a name to what is wrong with my heart. But I am sad that I couldn't get Chris to my Cardiologist sooner. We had talked on Weds night making our promise to go see my Cardiologist on the following Monday. She went into cardiac arrest the next night, and passed on that Monday. Did we wait too long? Could they have been able to do anything even if we had gone that night? I don't know...nobody does. I guess that is one answer I will never have.

Today is Mother's day, and I hope that everyone takes advantage of taking their Mothers out, or getting her a card, or just calling her and telling her that you love her....but do something.

Today is a bitter sweet day for me. I Iost my mom when I was 12 years old, and I have missed her every single day since then.  The sad part is, when you are 12 and your Mom leaves your life, you start to forget her as you get older.  Oh, you see pictures of her, and you remember that is your mom, but you don't remember what she sounds like, what she smells like, her facial expressions that just a Mom makes...you know, "the look"...I have forgotten that now, and it makes me so sad.

I can never tell my Mom how sorry I am for the crazy things that a normal 12 year old does, and the things that a not so normal 12 year old does.

 My Mom was sick, but I didn't realize just how sick she was, not  that would forgive what I was doing.  I had started smoking pot when I was 10 years old.  I was writing my little school notes to my friends because I thought it was so cool that I was stoned after school, or that I was staying the night with my best friend and we were staying up late, getting stoned and watching Edgar Allen Poe movies on Friday night.  My best friends Mom drank Vodka, so of course I was sneaking her vodka as well.  This went on for a year before my Mom and Dad found one of my "Cool" notes, and decided to search my room.

I stood next to them, screaming how unfair it was, how they were invaiding my privacy, crying, putting on a great show...and the favorite.."it's only pot"!  They found a dozen or so letters telling the stories of us camping in the backyard, sleep overs, etc....all about us getting high.  My parents knew nothing about drugs, and knew even less about what to do with a 11 yr. old that used them. My poor Mother, sitting on the floor, letters covering her lap, crying, asking why her baby would use drugs.  Why is it THAT memory one I can remember??

I did my plea that I would never do it again.  They believed me.  All was good for awhile.  No, I didn't stop, I was just careful about putting things in writing....it never dawned on me my father would follow me, and watch me get high through the window of my best friends house.  Horrified,  humiliated,  I took off running.  Wow, you think your parent is old.  This man could run, and run fast he did.  I was barefoot, and we lived in the country, and I hit a stump in the dirt and broke my toes.  I kept running but he caught me.  He had me put on a nightgown, and he whipped me, and whipped me,  until he couldn't whip me any longer.  It's not the pain I remember...it's my Mom's crying in the next room and her begging my father to stop.  That is what I remember.   Did I stop smoking pot, and by now, doing other drugs and drinking more?  Sad to admit, Nope!

My mother died a few months later.  I was sitting on the bathroom sink blowdrying my hair, and in the mirror, I watched my father, both sets of grandparents walk in.  Mom was supposed to come home.  See, she went to the hospital about a week or so before.  They couldn't tell she'd had a heart attack because like me, and my sisters, she didn't test positive for the blood work for having a heart attack...nothing came up positive, so they were taking to the floor where they put people who needed their gallbladders out...then something showed on ther EKG, and they realized something must be wrong, so they waited.  She was 35!  Then she died.

I could tell by looking at their faces she was gone.  No one ever told me, they all just wanted to hug me, and then they all started crying, and crying, and talking like I wasn't there, about sending me to the Sisters and letting me go to school with the church.

I went to my sisters and held on to them, not wanting to be sent away to school.  I told the middle one of us, that I never got to tell Mom I was sorry for what I had done, and maybe she had a heart attack because of me and what I had been doing.  She kept telling me it wasn't me.   My sisters promised me that they wouldn't leave me....they both have since gone.

So, the moral of this story is.  Back then, no mother ever died of a heart attack at age 35.  Life is so very short, and you never know when someone you love so dearly is going to be gone.  Don't let some little fight that doesn't mean a thing come between you, because you could wake up the next morning, and not be able to say you are sorry!  NEVER be able to say you are sorry.  This is something that you carry with all your life, and wow, talk about the hardest thing to forgive yourself for.

Happy Mother's Day!!  To the new Mothers, Old Mothers, GrandMothers...ALL Mothers.  Celebrate them, Love them,  Most of all, forgive them, because you will miss them when they are gone!   So, when you go out to eat today, look across that table and count all your blessings that you CAN still look into her eyes and tell her....I LOVE YOU!