Therapy? Who needs therapy?

So my shrink says I need therapy? I say I just need to get it all out! And I've decided that I will! I don't need someone to tell me what I already know. I don't mean that I have all the answers, I don't. But, I don't think anyone else does either. So I will keep my $30/hour, and instead, I will try to devote as much time a day, as I can to writing it all down here, and maybe that will help me get this whole mess out of my 'head' and my 'heart' and then, just maybe, I will finally be able to not 'get over it' but learn to 'live with it'. My very oldest and best friend in the world told me that the last time I saw her. It is my new mantra. I know she'll never read this...so thanks Lisa...I love you more than you will ever know!

I know that what I want and need is closure to my medical mishap of 2006. I keep thinking that the trial will bring me that. But, with NO trial date set, and now new experts to be called, and Dr F is now leaving Dallas, it seems when we take two steps forward we get pushed back 5 feet. I spend a week or two in tears, and then I pick myself up and go through the motions, until something happens that takes me back to that place again. And each time I hate her a little bit more, and myself even more. It's a vicious never ending cycle.

Here is what I want her to know.

Dr W - we all make choices. I made a choice when I trusted the faith that my primary care physician had in the choice she made in her recommendation of you. She spoke so highly of you, your cutting edge approaches. I made an appointment with you that day. That was my choice. I did not do my research. That was my choice. And a year later, when I did do my research, I wouldn't find much anyway. The only thing I might have found, that might have given me pause, was your age. We were born the same year. I would NEVER have known that looking at you. I did think you were MUCH older than me. Not by the way you carried yourself, but the way you looked. I guess all those long hours in the hospital life will do that to a person. But, that was YOUR choice.

You spent so much time with me...three hours. We discussed many options. I made the choice to have surgery. I was in so much pain. I had missed so much work. I had missed so many activities. I wanted to feel better. I wanted that dibilitating to pain to be gone. I wanted the nausea to be gone. I wanted to feel normal again. You weren't sure that any of the other options would work long term. You knew that removing the cyst, the ovary and the cervical stump would solve the problem. You knew that, and I made the choice.

You were so busy with so many other deliveries during August and so many other surgeries that August. August 31st was the earliest you could do mine. I should have seen that as a warning sign. I know that now. I remember your scheduler telling me that you were so busy you had added Thursdays to your schedule. So many surgeries, so little time. But, all I could think of was how bad I felt. And I never considered the risk I was taking having the surgery over a holiday weekend. After all, it was 'day surgery'. Your in, your out. No fuss. No worries. If only that was all true...

Kids...

I really didn't have a clue that raising kids was going to be THIS hard! It seems like it is a constant battle. A battle over time, hair, clothes, food, friends, school, phones, etc. Is there NOTHING that we can agree on?

I try to be 'ok' with so many things...and then I find myself feeling absolutely taken advantage of and 'played'. I find myself saying things that I swore I would never say. Doing things I swore I would never do! It's so frustrating. But, at the same time, I would do anything for them! I want them to always have everything they want and need, but I also want them to be grateful for what they have! There is MY biggest problem.

How do you teach them graciousness, when they have never truly 'gone with out'. How can they be grateful for what they have, when they have never known any different? We give and give and give. We want the best for them, better than what we had. But, then we become angry when they don't appreciate the sacrifices we make and what we give them.

I guess I still need a Parenting 101 class. I either missed it, or failed it. I'm sure my kids will get back to me soon on how badly I have failed it! It amazes me that anyone can have kids, and I do believe that most try to do the best we can! But, what if our best isn't good enough?

Happy Anniversary!!

I'm not really sure that this anniversary is something that I will celebrate forever. I hope that one day, it will all be a distant memory instead of something that prevents me from closing my eyes and going to sleep at night. This is the anniversary of the day that I almost died. I was actually supposed to die, I think. The doctors said that I only had a 10% chance to survive. And initially the prognosis was NEVER in my favor. I wasn't supposed to return home until sometime in March of 2007. But, instead, I was not only home, I was back to work by then.

Everything they said I would struggle through and the set backs they assumed I would face, I overcame with no problem. Physically I talked sooner, walked sooner, and even ate months ahead of what they initially told my family. I guess it is true that no matter how good the doctor, there is one factor they fail to recognize. And that would be the will to live.

I won't pretend that I actually knew what was going on with me during my month long coma. I drifted in and out of consciousness mainly in the first few days. I would hear people talking, recognize voices, but not be able to respond. I was easily agitated and very, very scared. I don't who 'they' are when hospital personnel say 'being in a coma is peaceful'. My time in mine was anything BUT peaceful.

And I think it is so weird that I can recall those memories so vividly. Things that NEVER actually happened. I guess that is how powerful the drugs they had me on were. I guess feeling terrified was better than feeling all the pain.

My first memory is of my sister and my husband. They were on either side of me, and begging me to open my eyes. They were explaining what had happened to me. Only, I didn't think they were really 'them'. I thought I was being lied to and tricked. I remember thinking I had been kidnapped. And that they wanted me to trust them because they wanted to hurt me. I KNEW I was in the hospital, but I thought I was being held prisoner in the hospital. I thought I was actually being held in the light boxes in the ceiling. And whenever I think about that, my whole body reacts. My hands get clammy. My heart races. I remember seeing my kidnappers, who were giggling and laughing at me. I wanted to answer Sloan and Chris. But, I wasn't able to.

Helpless is something that I just don't do. I never have. And I never will. But, in the coma and in the hospital for all those months, that is just what I felt. Absolute helplessness. And no matter how much time passes, that hasn't changed. It makes me nauseated. At times it consumes me - all day long.

My heart knows that I should feel nothing except grateful and very, very lucky. I am not suffering from brain damage, and I wasn't paralyzed. But, just because to the outside world there is very little reminder of what happened to me, it is always right behind my smile or tears. It just is a huge part of who I am.

I want to let it go, but I'm not sure how to do that. I still can't figure out how to 'get over it'. I'm living with it - but I'm not sure I've dealt with it. I don't know how you really actually do that. I guess in time it will get easier. Two years isn't really that long, I guess.

What Do I Want To Be When I Grow Up?

With the disolving of my current Employer, I have to ponder this question...over and over several hundreds of times through out the day. Today I decided to take a color test. I'm sure you are thinking - RIGHT! Like that would really work. Here is the interesting part...it kind of makes more sense than I could ever have thought. Here are a few snippets:

Best Occupational Category
You're a CREATOR
Key Words:
Nonconforming, Impulsive, Expressive, Romantic, Intuitive, Sensitive, and Emotional

These original types place a high value on aesthetic qualities and have a great need for self-expression. They enjoy working independently, being creative, using their imagination, and constantly learning something new. Fields of interest are art, drama, music, and writing or places where they can express, assemble, or implement creative ideas.

CREATOR OCCUPATIONS
Suggested careers are Advertising Executive, Architect, Web Designer, Creative Director, Public Relations, Fine or Commercial Artist, Interior Decorator, Lawyer, Librarian, Musician, Reporter, Art Teacher, Broadcaster, Technical Writer, English Teacher, Architect, Photographer, Medical Illustrator, Corporate Trainer, Author, Editor, Landscape Architect, Exhibit Builder, and Package Designer.

CREATOR WORKPLACES
Consider workplaces where you can create and improve beauty and aesthetic qualities. Unstructured, flexible organizations that allow self-expression work best with your free-spirited nature.

2nd Best Occupational Category
You're an ORGANIZER
Key Words:
Self-Control, Practical, Self-Contained, Orderly, Systematic, Precise, and Accurate

These conservative appearing, plotting-types enjoy organizing, data systems, accounting, detail, and accuracy. They often enjoy mathematics and data management activities such as accounting and investment management. Persistence and patience allows them to do detailed paperwork, operate office machines, write business reports, and make charts and graphs.

Sounds just like me...but then, a friend of mine took it too...and she's the same as me although she doesn't consider herself creative..so in reality, we both just like the same colors! Oh well...it was something fun to do today, while I search for a job, wind down my current job and wonder 'what comes next' for me. I really hate going through this again, almost as much as marking the '36-40' in the age category. Just another reminder that I am getting old! I'm not typically too focused on age and appearance, but this latest news has me face to face with some concepts I had been able to avoid until now.

So wish me luck...What Do I want to be???

Deja Vu

I got a call today that one of my best friends was admitted to the hospital. Turns out her 'laziness' this weekend...she 'rested' while we painted and moved furniture, was actually warranted. She has gall stones and is having her gall bladder removed on Thursday. The minute her Mom told me she had been admitted, I instantly felt different. I got a pain deep in my chest. It was hard to catch my breath. I started feeling sweaty. I think it was a panic attack. I knew I would have to go to the hospital to visit her. After being in and out of hospitals for 6 months, I guess you could say I am a little 'paranoid'.

Sure I've gone to the hospital for check ups with my surgeon. But, I don't have to go to the building where I 'lived' or be in a hospital room. It's actually very simple. I pull up to the Valet - get out, take the elevator to the 12th floor (but I always think it's on the 9th floor, so I have to go there first), see my surgeon, and then I'm out. Way too easy! Me thinking that I'm so 'past' it all. That I've dealt with it.

What is dealing with something? Everyone says, 'You have to accept it, and move on'. Accept what exactly? Move on to where again? This isn't new to me, I've always felt this was a contradiction. And I've never really understood how you can do either gracefully or willingly. My therapist says this to me often. I ask for more clarification to which I've yet to get an answer - or maybe she did tell me, but I have no short term memory so I have forgotten!

So anyway, as we (my daughter, Abigail) approached the hospital, I got more nervous. A place that most consider 'safe', I find haunting. So why do I have a fear of hospitals? Let me see if I can do this as painless as possible for both you the reader, as well as me the 'wannabe writer'.

On Thursday, August 31 of 2006, I went in for a routine laprascopic procedure to finish a prior partial hysterectomy. I was in at 7a and out and home by 3p. However, by that evening, something just wasn't right. After calls to the answering service, trips to the pharmacy, my 'non confrontational' husband forced me to go to the ER on Sunday morning. Little did he know, he would be saving my life for the second time - the first was when he married me almost 15 years ago, but that is another story, for another time.

When I was admitted to the hospital, they said I was severely dehydrated and my temperature was dropping rapidly. After a lot of poking and prodding, the on call surgeon came in to see me, after the insertion of a swan catheter, he noticed the red swollen area on the left upper side of my abdomen. He inserted a syringe and determined, by the looks of the yuck he was draining, that I must have a 'bowel perforation'. I'd heard of it before...didn't quite know what it meant, and had been told this was common with a laprascopic procedure, but what wasn't common was to leave an OR with one...or in my case two.

So, he scheduled surgery for late that night, he wanted me hydrated...gave me lots more morphine and alas, I was more comfortable. Chris left to take the kids clothes to our neighbors, they would spend the night there. Minutes after Chris left, a team of white coats with panic stricken faces entered my ER cubby. The only words I remember are - kidney failure, dialysis, organs shutting down, surgery now as they ran with me on the gurney.

I do remember looking up at my mom, who was running beside my gurney and asking if I was going to die. She grabbed my hand, and said, 'No f#$%ing way are you going to die. Right?' (yeah, she wasn't real convincing, especially when the doctor wouldn't answer or look at us). I realized then the severity, and although I didn't understand it, I 'accepted' it. I grabbed my sister's hand and said, 'Please take care of Chris and my kids if something happens. And please don't call Grandma Bonnie (my dad passed away on Aug 2, 2006, but again...that's another story). My sister looked deep into my eyes, staring at me and began to cry.

I woke up a month later from my 'drug induced' coma. The trauma to my abdomen was so significant that conscious I would not have been able to handle the pain. My family suffered the most during that time. My husband afraid he was going to bury his wife, just as he had buried his mother all those years ago. My children were shipped out all over our neighborhood and not able to see me at all. They would later tell me that they thought I had died, and no one had told them. My mother would have to come to terms with the fact, that deep down she did love me - ALL of me. And my baby sister, well, she realized that we're closer than even she realized.

So, that is why I HATE hospitals, and have so much distrust for doctors. I know we all make mistakes, and I know while not intentional, it was sloppy and the whole mess could have been avoided. So, when your doctor tells you, or your friend, that it's just a simple laprascopic day procedure, please ask this very important question - 'Doctor, will you be using an optical lense on that trocar or will you be blindly inserting into my abdomen (not once, not twice, but third times a charm)?'

Hind sight is 20/20, isn't it?

Strike 3 - I'm OUT!!

Even when you know something is going to happen, when it finally does, I don't think you are quite prepared for it. Atleast that is how I am. I see things pretty clearly, for what they are. I try to approach everything realistically and logically. And then it happens, and everything seems to fall apart.



I have had the most awesome job for the last 3 years and 6 months. I get to do work that I LOVE - and I get to work from home. For all you working Mom's out there, this IS the creme de la creme! I see my kiddos at breakfast, lunch and dinner! I'm ALWAYS here! I may be on the phone or busy 'hard at work', but the most important thing, is that I am HERE! I travelled 100% off and on for 3 years, so being home has been the greatest thing. But, like all GREAT things, they must come to an end!!

The powers that be, have decided that our 'division' which is really a Company for all intent purposes is going to shut down this Fall. I am one of the lucky ones though. My last day will be October 31, 2008. It has been a GREAT ride, and like all endings, it is sad. This wasn't just a 'job' for me. It was a 'lifestyle'. Working from home, in my pj's or wet hair, if I wanted, was a luxury that I never once took for granted. Sometimes the hours were longer, the phone calls later and the work grueling, but every single day, no matter what, I was grateful for this opportunity.

I'm not just sad for me. I'm sad for my co-workers and our once fearless leader. I know it probably sounds odd, but most of them I might not even recognize on the street. We have only met in person 2 - 3 times. But, I know their voices. I know their work...I know about their lives. And I will miss those interactions. I will miss this job, like no other job I have ever had.

I don't know what comes next either. This is the third time I have been laid off. Is it a sign? Is it me? Is it just that 'bad luck' that hangs over my head? Or is it just life? Hmmmmm

In The Beginning

I have kept a journal for as long as I can remember, only it's become increasingly hard to find the time to write as often as I would like. So, now I have a 'blog'. I have no idea what will find it's way onto this page. Random thoughts...and me finding a way to work out some of the 'drama' and 'chaos' of this ride they call 'Life'.

I guess some background on me might be helpful. I am a 37 year old wife and mother of 3. Chris (my soulmate) and I have been married for almost 15 years! In this day and age, that is quite an accomplishment. This is our first (and only) marriage! While we have definitely had our ups and downs...I wouldn't change anything if given the opportunity. We have grown up with each other, learned from each other and through every memory, we have loved each other. What more can you ask for from such a partnership??

And yes, all three kids are ours as well. Ryan Christopher just turned 14 this month. I have a feeling he will be a major source of inspiration (and irritation) as I write here. Abigail Catharine will be 11 next month. What they say about 'you reap what you sew', well that phrase was coined for me in her! And Jakob Mathews will be 10 this Fall. He is proof that there is a God in Heaven who does watch down on us all. And that he never gives us more than we can handle. He's not perfect, but he's a good combination of Chris and I.

I work full time as a computer software engineer. I have had the luxury of working from home for the past 3 and a half years. I LOVE the flexibility my job offers. I get to see my kids in the morning off to school and then be here when they get home in the afternoons. Most days I can do all the running around that is required - but occasionally (and lately a lot more) I find myself tied to my desk due to conference calls and meetings. However, technology affords me all this flexibility, so I can't really complain too much.

We have a sweet puppy named Presley. She's a mess...but a beautiful mess. She is so cute you almost forget how many times she's peed in the hall or pooped in Abbie's room. But, when she chews up ANOTHER pair of shoes she doesn't appear so cute at the moment!

So come back and see me soon...I'll try to start writing as often as I can. Time is something I don't have a lot of around here...but the writing is for me, so I will try to make it a priority!