I have to document this somewhere because it is too hilarious not to.
At work last night I ended up assisting a poor soul who forgot her glasses. If anyone out there needs glasses to read, you should ALWAYS have a pair with you at ALL times to save you from embarrassment.
While putting out freight for another department (which my co-worker and I do all the time) an older woman (I would not say "elderly", she was just "older") asked if I worked there (I get this all the time, "why no, I don't work here, I just like wearing a white lab coat that says PHOTO LAB and I like putting up freight for free").
"Yes I work here."
"Could you help me with something? I don't have my glasses, would you read what this says for me?"
So I look at the box. It is Warming Touch KY Jelly.
I think about this for a second, about how I'm going to word this in a proper way.
So I just tell her what the box says, "Its called Warming Touch jelly for intimacy"
She totally didn't get it.
"What is it for?"
Really???
"Its for when you are intimate with someone."
"How do you use it?"
OH FOR PETE'S SAKE.
"Do you put it in your vagina? Is it for dryness? Like a douche?"
jeez.
"Well yes, essentially it can go in your vagina but that is not what its for. It's not for that kind of everyday use. It's 'warming touch' so it gets hot on contact- I don't know if you want that feeling all day. You should be able to find a douche with the health and beauty aids near the pharmacy."
Ok most ladies would want that feeling all day, heck it would make her happy but it won't help her dryness.
"Ha ha, ok thank you"
WHAT THE HECK.
What was I supposed to say?
"It's for when you are having sex and you put it on your clitoris!"
Really.
She probably didn't know what a clitoris is if she couldn't figure out what KY Jelly is for.
That was way to personal of an experience for me to have with a customer. It would have been more appropriate for her to ask the pharmacist than talk to me about this junk.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Surgery
I just heard that a woman who attends my church just had surgery for Crohn's Disease.
That sucks.
It made me reminisce when I had my surgery in 2005. I had been severely sick for four years prior with no relief. In 2005 an abscess formed on the outside of my abdominal wall. I couldn't keep anything down, not even water. I was vomiting constantly. After seeing my PCP he referred me to a surgeon because he felt a hard lump on my lower abdomen. The surgeon immediately admitted me to the hospital and the testing began. The resolution was to drain the abscess. I was wheeled to Radiology where the radiologist would insert the drainage tube.
That wasn't fun.
He injected me with ink or whatever to make my insides glow or something then he injected me with a numbing solution so I wouldn't feel him jab that tube inside my gut.
Yeah that numbing stuff didn't work.
It hurt like hell.
When he was finished the nurse wheeled me into the hallway and I started crying. She asked if I was ok and I responded ever so lightly "that hurt". She apologized but I knew it wasn't her fault. Before the numbing solution even had a chance to take effect the radiologist jabbed the tube in. I was so friggin upset.
I was taken to my room and waited. The stuff was draining. I was in pain still. After one night I was sent home hoping this would solve the problem.
At home there was no comfort- I couldn't lay down flat, I was stuck in the living room recliner. I was so uncomfortable. At night my cat (whom I love dearly) that always sleeps with me decided to jump on my lap. Boy was that a mistake.
I screamed aloud "SONOFABITCH!" and sent him flying across the room. I felt bad. But my abs felt worse.
That morning I was still sick, not getting better. I think I was due for a check up the next day at the surgeon's and he saw I wasn't getting better so back to the hospital I went. More testing. Another abscess found. But this time it was further down in my pelvis. Surgery was the only option.
I remember the nurse prepping me and giving me whatever medicine to make me sleep.... "Start counting backwards from 100..." I obliged. I think I got to 97 and was out. I wonder why they want you to count backwards from 100? Hmm.
I vaguely remember awakening for a moment when they were moving me from my gurney to the operating table. Yes I seen the bright light. I wasn't dead. It was the stinking operating room lights for petes sake. No out of body experience here. I quickly fell back asleep and I'm pretty sure I had a dream. Couldn't remember what it was about though.
Afterwards while I was being awakened I remember mumbling something or the other while the nurse was moistening my eyes and lips. I felt quite drunk. After coming-to it felt like I was hit by a truck. I was a total mess and my whole body ached and was in pain. My lower back was killing me and I had no idea why. I told the nurse about my lower back and she was sure why I was in pain in that area. The only reasons she gave was either a) I was laying funny on the operating table or b) gas was moving through where the surgeon had to use a balloon to see what he was doing.
All I know is that I was in pain.
I was in the hospital for two weeks because I kept running a fever.
The doctor wanted me up and walking every two hours. That was no fun. But I was grateful because I did recover quickly. I remember one of the nurses I had- she was Ukrainian. There is just something about a person with an Eastern European accent that you just *do* what they tell you. At first she always barked at me, "get up! it is time to walk! lets go!" I was reluctant but obeyed. At the end of my stay she told me how proud she was and how well I was doing. That made me happy.
When I finally stopped running a fever and everything had drained properly, it was time to remove the drainage tube. The nurse came in, told me what we were going to do, prepared the bandages, and told me to take a deep breath and brace myself.
That didn't sound good.
"Brace myself"????
Really????
I took a deep breath, but "bracing myself" did not prepare me one iota for what was going to happen. She yanked that tube out and before I even knew what was happening I screamed aloud. I surprised even myself and looked at the nurse in shock. She asked me if I was alright, and I managed to muster out "yeah". That whole mess was over before it even started which I was grateful for.
After getting home and working through the last bit of pain I felt like a new person. Sure I was missing two feet of intestines (the surgeon found that the original plan of just sticking a drain tube like before would have killed me since it wasn't another abscess- just my intestines swelling into a ball) removing the "diseased" portions and reconnecting me, I was in no more pain from the Crohn's. I gained weight. I felt renewed.
The next few years were good. Every now and then I go through some "issues" but other than menstrual cramps I have no more pain. I attest that to God and changing my eating habits.
More on that later....
That sucks.
It made me reminisce when I had my surgery in 2005. I had been severely sick for four years prior with no relief. In 2005 an abscess formed on the outside of my abdominal wall. I couldn't keep anything down, not even water. I was vomiting constantly. After seeing my PCP he referred me to a surgeon because he felt a hard lump on my lower abdomen. The surgeon immediately admitted me to the hospital and the testing began. The resolution was to drain the abscess. I was wheeled to Radiology where the radiologist would insert the drainage tube.
That wasn't fun.
He injected me with ink or whatever to make my insides glow or something then he injected me with a numbing solution so I wouldn't feel him jab that tube inside my gut.
Yeah that numbing stuff didn't work.
It hurt like hell.
When he was finished the nurse wheeled me into the hallway and I started crying. She asked if I was ok and I responded ever so lightly "that hurt". She apologized but I knew it wasn't her fault. Before the numbing solution even had a chance to take effect the radiologist jabbed the tube in. I was so friggin upset.
I was taken to my room and waited. The stuff was draining. I was in pain still. After one night I was sent home hoping this would solve the problem.
At home there was no comfort- I couldn't lay down flat, I was stuck in the living room recliner. I was so uncomfortable. At night my cat (whom I love dearly) that always sleeps with me decided to jump on my lap. Boy was that a mistake.
I screamed aloud "SONOFABITCH!" and sent him flying across the room. I felt bad. But my abs felt worse.
That morning I was still sick, not getting better. I think I was due for a check up the next day at the surgeon's and he saw I wasn't getting better so back to the hospital I went. More testing. Another abscess found. But this time it was further down in my pelvis. Surgery was the only option.
I remember the nurse prepping me and giving me whatever medicine to make me sleep.... "Start counting backwards from 100..." I obliged. I think I got to 97 and was out. I wonder why they want you to count backwards from 100? Hmm.
I vaguely remember awakening for a moment when they were moving me from my gurney to the operating table. Yes I seen the bright light. I wasn't dead. It was the stinking operating room lights for petes sake. No out of body experience here. I quickly fell back asleep and I'm pretty sure I had a dream. Couldn't remember what it was about though.
Afterwards while I was being awakened I remember mumbling something or the other while the nurse was moistening my eyes and lips. I felt quite drunk. After coming-to it felt like I was hit by a truck. I was a total mess and my whole body ached and was in pain. My lower back was killing me and I had no idea why. I told the nurse about my lower back and she was sure why I was in pain in that area. The only reasons she gave was either a) I was laying funny on the operating table or b) gas was moving through where the surgeon had to use a balloon to see what he was doing.
All I know is that I was in pain.
I was in the hospital for two weeks because I kept running a fever.
The doctor wanted me up and walking every two hours. That was no fun. But I was grateful because I did recover quickly. I remember one of the nurses I had- she was Ukrainian. There is just something about a person with an Eastern European accent that you just *do* what they tell you. At first she always barked at me, "get up! it is time to walk! lets go!" I was reluctant but obeyed. At the end of my stay she told me how proud she was and how well I was doing. That made me happy.
When I finally stopped running a fever and everything had drained properly, it was time to remove the drainage tube. The nurse came in, told me what we were going to do, prepared the bandages, and told me to take a deep breath and brace myself.
That didn't sound good.
"Brace myself"????
Really????
I took a deep breath, but "bracing myself" did not prepare me one iota for what was going to happen. She yanked that tube out and before I even knew what was happening I screamed aloud. I surprised even myself and looked at the nurse in shock. She asked me if I was alright, and I managed to muster out "yeah". That whole mess was over before it even started which I was grateful for.
After getting home and working through the last bit of pain I felt like a new person. Sure I was missing two feet of intestines (the surgeon found that the original plan of just sticking a drain tube like before would have killed me since it wasn't another abscess- just my intestines swelling into a ball) removing the "diseased" portions and reconnecting me, I was in no more pain from the Crohn's. I gained weight. I felt renewed.
The next few years were good. Every now and then I go through some "issues" but other than menstrual cramps I have no more pain. I attest that to God and changing my eating habits.
More on that later....
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Breakaway
I know its been a while, and I'm kind of breaking away from the format of this blog.... but hey. That's life! Change it up while you can because next thing you know you're dead.
I can't remember where I left off and I didn't bother to go check, so this will be just a b/s update.... This week has been a bit stressful, I had an interview for a graphic design job, I just finished the follow-up interview project and now back to the waiting game. Leading up to this interview I was painstakingly plugging away at every free moment I had on my laptop trying to update my portfolio and online presence. It's still a working progress, but I look like a freaking professional now! Except for the Blogger pages.... I can't figure how to change the design of Blogger for the life of me. I think I need to leave that to the professionals. Ugh.
I'm super tired! Went to bed at 2am last night working on this project. The boy is taking a nap with me whether he likes it or not.
I'm eligible for part-time benefits at Wallyworld now, but the plans look identical to full-time benefits so I'm confused.
*sigh* I'm not really in the writing mood right now, I will have to fill your mind with sarcastic nonsense at a later date....
I can't remember where I left off and I didn't bother to go check, so this will be just a b/s update.... This week has been a bit stressful, I had an interview for a graphic design job, I just finished the follow-up interview project and now back to the waiting game. Leading up to this interview I was painstakingly plugging away at every free moment I had on my laptop trying to update my portfolio and online presence. It's still a working progress, but I look like a freaking professional now! Except for the Blogger pages.... I can't figure how to change the design of Blogger for the life of me. I think I need to leave that to the professionals. Ugh.
I'm super tired! Went to bed at 2am last night working on this project. The boy is taking a nap with me whether he likes it or not.
I'm eligible for part-time benefits at Wallyworld now, but the plans look identical to full-time benefits so I'm confused.
*sigh* I'm not really in the writing mood right now, I will have to fill your mind with sarcastic nonsense at a later date....
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Dear Food: I love you. Don't hate me.
So I'm going to stray a little from the blog formula I have been trying to follow... (I've been trying to chronicle the events in order, but I'm scatterbrained.)
Over Labor Day weekend Brandon and I left my son with my mother and we took off to Buffalo NY to see family and eat lots of wonderfully good and fattening Buffalo food. Only in Buffalo will you find REAL pizza (New York style has no substance! Just sayin'...) REAL wings, and REAL sub sandwiches amongst other foodstuffs you can only find in Western New York.
I ate a lot.
And it was good.
For the most part the food behaved itself in my intestines. Or better yet, my intestines behave themselves. Its my digestive tract that is the hater in the relationship...
We stayed with my 90 year old Grandmother and my Aunt (on my dad's side) which I am so grateful for, they have been nothing but supportive in my life and have always tried to take care of me, but here comes the rant:
I know you all care about me and care about my health but please, let me take care of me. I've done all the research, heard all the advice, the suggestions, the stories, etc. etc. etc. I'm the one who has had to "deal" with this for ten years. Yes, my family has had to stand there and watch me go through it, but for a sickness, disease, anything going on internally there is only so much another person can do. You can't go in my body and change stuff around. I have to take care of it. So let me.
Please do not judge my choices or decisions in how to handle my health. I like doctors, for the most part, I've even had a few that actually CARED about me, but what is that old saying? Don't put all your eggs into one basket. Conventional medicine is fine short-term, sometimes it is needed to get stuff under control. But you must treat and heal the body as a whole! Why do we think we can just treat one symptom at a time as it comes along? And why the hell is it not right to treat a DIGESTIVE disorder with DIET?
A doctor once told me that it didn't matter what I ate.
Hell it does!
I don't buy into the magic pill- there is no one cure-all pill- because if you take one pill you will have to take another to counteract the side effects of that one and it becomes a domino effect. There are a lot of diseases that CAN be treated with diet and heaven forbid exercise.
Now listen.
I'm not a medical doctor. Thank God. But I am a person who has struggled with Crohn's Disease for ten years, has had 2 feet of intestines removed, and been on a lot of medicine that did not make the problem go away. Because hello: Crohn's and Colitis are chronic disorders. They don't go away by themselves, and especially with the medicine out there today. Remissions and Flare-ups. That's the waxing and waning of IBS. Oh hell- IBS is something doctors tell you because they don't know what the hell is wrong with you.
I had surgery because I had a "bad side effect" of the medicine I was on for treatment! It made me sick, created abscesses in my intestines. I guess I got out lucky, because these corticosteroids can cause cancer, liver damage, Hepatitis.... the list goes on.
While talking about these things over breakfast in NY my cousin tried to lighten the blow by adding that even if one person has a side effect from a medicine they have to put it on the label. Well sure. I agree- but I don't see how I need to be dependent on these man made chemicals that could possibly kill me.
**********************************
Let me try to get back on track.
I have no medical insurance. No one will cover me because of this. Supposedly in 2014 insurance companies HAVE to accept me. But geez that is like being a lonely kid at a playground and the other kids are made to play with you because their parents said so.
Yeah we'll see how that goes!
With my income at >10K a year (combined with Brandon's it's >20K) plus a child, I make too much money for Medicaid. When I was a stay at home mom and Brandon made >15K we still made too much money for me to be on Medicaid! One suggestion was to quit work so I could possibly get on Medicaid. I'm sorry, my pride is too big, I will NOT ever be on Welfare in order to gain a crappy health plan offered through the government.
So I started educating myself in natural remedies. I mean, why not? We live in a society filled with processed food that is chock full of chemicals so it can sustain months and years of being on delivery trucks and grocery shelves. How does that seem remotely healthy?
While watching a documentary, an overweight family complained that unhealthy food is cheaper than healthy food. Well damn, budget your money- STOP eating so much, lose weight, your stomach will shrink, and you won't feel so hungry anymore. Plus, that processed food with all those chemicals gets you addicted. That's why its hard to stop.
"OH but that is so hard! It's so easy to say that! But it's so hard!"
Stop your whining and start taking care of yourself!
Everyone does too much sitting around and eating food rather than being active. As human beings we used to have to forage and hunt for food. Our foraging now consists of walking the aisles of Walmart. Now that's exercise! *sarcasm*
I'm one to talk- I hate exercise. Being anemic doesn't help. I would love to exercise and be athletic, but I get tired too quickly. I have to take it in turns.
I'm changing my lifestyle. I shop at the farmers market more often, I eat more healthy foods, I take vitamin supplements and I am not in any pain. I still have problems in my large intestine and rectum, as if you must know, you should, because shit happens.
Funny story:
I was in the restroom at work when some other co-workers came in and one says "it smells in here!" HELLO. It's the bathroom- shit happens. I wonder what it would be like if our feces smelled like flowers? Then I think people would be more willing to talk about their bowel movements....
"Man let me tell you! I had a good BM this morning! Smelled like lilacs! Made me want to stay in the bathroom all day...."
******************************************
Beef that is 100% grassfed does not give me gas like processed meat from the grocery store does.
Thats a winner in my eyes.
Over Labor Day weekend Brandon and I left my son with my mother and we took off to Buffalo NY to see family and eat lots of wonderfully good and fattening Buffalo food. Only in Buffalo will you find REAL pizza (New York style has no substance! Just sayin'...) REAL wings, and REAL sub sandwiches amongst other foodstuffs you can only find in Western New York.
I ate a lot.
And it was good.
For the most part the food behaved itself in my intestines. Or better yet, my intestines behave themselves. Its my digestive tract that is the hater in the relationship...
We stayed with my 90 year old Grandmother and my Aunt (on my dad's side) which I am so grateful for, they have been nothing but supportive in my life and have always tried to take care of me, but here comes the rant:
I know you all care about me and care about my health but please, let me take care of me. I've done all the research, heard all the advice, the suggestions, the stories, etc. etc. etc. I'm the one who has had to "deal" with this for ten years. Yes, my family has had to stand there and watch me go through it, but for a sickness, disease, anything going on internally there is only so much another person can do. You can't go in my body and change stuff around. I have to take care of it. So let me.
Please do not judge my choices or decisions in how to handle my health. I like doctors, for the most part, I've even had a few that actually CARED about me, but what is that old saying? Don't put all your eggs into one basket. Conventional medicine is fine short-term, sometimes it is needed to get stuff under control. But you must treat and heal the body as a whole! Why do we think we can just treat one symptom at a time as it comes along? And why the hell is it not right to treat a DIGESTIVE disorder with DIET?
A doctor once told me that it didn't matter what I ate.
Hell it does!
I don't buy into the magic pill- there is no one cure-all pill- because if you take one pill you will have to take another to counteract the side effects of that one and it becomes a domino effect. There are a lot of diseases that CAN be treated with diet and heaven forbid exercise.
Now listen.
I'm not a medical doctor. Thank God. But I am a person who has struggled with Crohn's Disease for ten years, has had 2 feet of intestines removed, and been on a lot of medicine that did not make the problem go away. Because hello: Crohn's and Colitis are chronic disorders. They don't go away by themselves, and especially with the medicine out there today. Remissions and Flare-ups. That's the waxing and waning of IBS. Oh hell- IBS is something doctors tell you because they don't know what the hell is wrong with you.
I had surgery because I had a "bad side effect" of the medicine I was on for treatment! It made me sick, created abscesses in my intestines. I guess I got out lucky, because these corticosteroids can cause cancer, liver damage, Hepatitis.... the list goes on.
While talking about these things over breakfast in NY my cousin tried to lighten the blow by adding that even if one person has a side effect from a medicine they have to put it on the label. Well sure. I agree- but I don't see how I need to be dependent on these man made chemicals that could possibly kill me.
**********************************
Let me try to get back on track.
I have no medical insurance. No one will cover me because of this. Supposedly in 2014 insurance companies HAVE to accept me. But geez that is like being a lonely kid at a playground and the other kids are made to play with you because their parents said so.
Yeah we'll see how that goes!
With my income at >10K a year (combined with Brandon's it's >20K) plus a child, I make too much money for Medicaid. When I was a stay at home mom and Brandon made >15K we still made too much money for me to be on Medicaid! One suggestion was to quit work so I could possibly get on Medicaid. I'm sorry, my pride is too big, I will NOT ever be on Welfare in order to gain a crappy health plan offered through the government.
So I started educating myself in natural remedies. I mean, why not? We live in a society filled with processed food that is chock full of chemicals so it can sustain months and years of being on delivery trucks and grocery shelves. How does that seem remotely healthy?
While watching a documentary, an overweight family complained that unhealthy food is cheaper than healthy food. Well damn, budget your money- STOP eating so much, lose weight, your stomach will shrink, and you won't feel so hungry anymore. Plus, that processed food with all those chemicals gets you addicted. That's why its hard to stop.
"OH but that is so hard! It's so easy to say that! But it's so hard!"
Stop your whining and start taking care of yourself!
Everyone does too much sitting around and eating food rather than being active. As human beings we used to have to forage and hunt for food. Our foraging now consists of walking the aisles of Walmart. Now that's exercise! *sarcasm*
I'm one to talk- I hate exercise. Being anemic doesn't help. I would love to exercise and be athletic, but I get tired too quickly. I have to take it in turns.
I'm changing my lifestyle. I shop at the farmers market more often, I eat more healthy foods, I take vitamin supplements and I am not in any pain. I still have problems in my large intestine and rectum, as if you must know, you should, because shit happens.
Funny story:
I was in the restroom at work when some other co-workers came in and one says "it smells in here!" HELLO. It's the bathroom- shit happens. I wonder what it would be like if our feces smelled like flowers? Then I think people would be more willing to talk about their bowel movements....
"Man let me tell you! I had a good BM this morning! Smelled like lilacs! Made me want to stay in the bathroom all day...."
******************************************
Beef that is 100% grassfed does not give me gas like processed meat from the grocery store does.
Thats a winner in my eyes.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Kansas- Oh There Is No Place Like Home
Here I am, 28 years old- married- with a four month old moving to Kansas. What's in Kansas you say? Well part of my hubby's family... I guess he wanted a change of scenery. Hubby is very impatient (but aren't all men like that?) we were doing Therapeutic Foster Care when I was pregnant, and now that my son was here we wanted to take a little break from it and there were just no jobs available for Hubby. None that made decent enough money to pay our rent that is...
So off to Kansas we go...
How Hubby and I met is a pretty interesting story, so I guess I will tell it for all the world to have a chuckle:
First let me explain a bit more about myself... my marrying Brandon was a little surprising seeing as he really wasn't what people expected me to marry...
He is a good mix of a lot of men in my life, and not "men" as in "past boyfriends", "men" as in "family men" that I love... my dad, my stepfather, my little brother.... its all quite comical.
Oh and that whole "past boyfriends" thing is a complete joke: Brandon was my first and only boyfriend. Lets just say that as a teenager I valued myself as a woman pretty seriously. Sure I had crushes and what-not, but never was wanting a "boyfriend". Let's remember- I was a pretty angry teenager and I still hated men a lot, but gosh I was still attracted to the opposite sex! And let's face it, I was an average girl who wore very little make-up and wore clothes that were too big for her. No teenage boy wants to date a girl who is not showing off her body. Well no boy in Western New York did, to my knowledge... well I did have some boys who chased after me, but that was after high school when all the health crap started going down and I was not interested.
That reminds me of a funny story. As a young adult I worked in one of the local hotels (there are three, two of which are owned by the same company- I worked for the latter company) which a bunch of friends. It was fun while it lasted. One of the maintenance guys who was about my age shown interest in me. I was only interested as a friend because his values were completely different from mine. I went to church. He did not. But he said he would go to church for me. No thank you. Please for the love of all things beautiful do NOT go to church FOR me. You are not doing me any favors. Church and "religion" are supposed to be personal things for yourself. Going to impress somebody totally feeds into every stereotype out there. Gosh.
At first I was friendly to him because I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but he wouldn't stop harassing me so I started being myself. Mean and sarcastic. He was a musician so he wrote a song for me: "Mandy Why Do You Hate Me". He serenaded me in the kitchen while I was eating my meal. Classic. I laughed so hard. I felt kind of bad for him until he asked me if I was a lesbian. Jerk. Just because I was not interested in you doesn't mean that I must be a lesbian! Get over yourself ass.
It was one of those moments that I will never forget! I look back at it fondly. Ha!
Back to my original story... I always thought I would marry someone older than me who was calm and knew *exactly* what he wanted out of life. Tall, brown hair (preferably curly hair) with brown eyes. Well God thought to send me someone totally different.
Brandon is tall, with brown hair (that is slowly fading away), but with striking blue eyes, and he is four years *younger* than me. Now that wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the fact that when I met him he had *just* turned 20 years old. I was 24 getting ready to turn 25!
My mother and step-father are 19 years apart, but they met when they were *much* older and had families.... so even though I had seen couples who were years apart in age it was still kind of weird in my eyes to date someone that much younger than me.
I met Brandon at Walmart. Oh Wonderful Walmart! Who doesn't love Walmart? *This girl right here*
I had just gotten back into town from school and needed to do some shopping. I was dressed in jeans, a baggy tee shirt, and a baseball cap. That's certainly appropriate attire for meeting men.... yeah.
When I'm shopping I have a one-track mind, I want to get in, get out, and be done with it. I don't pay attention to who else is in the store or who I may meet there. I just want to get my stuff and get out. So unbeknownst to me there was a young man "checking me out", Brandon worked there in the produce department and he was chatting with the door greeter... This door greeter- she is a gem. Everyone knows her (well this is a small town and she is a native, so its only natural that she know everyone and everyone know her.) my mom chats with her regularly, but at the time I don't think she recognized me as my mother's daughter.
So here are Brandon and the door greeter chatting it up- apparently about women and relationships, the door greeter wanted to hook him up with someone so she was asking him what kind of girl he's interested in. He saw me walk by- pointed at me and said "I'd like to end up with a girl like that".
Well whaddya know.
So off to Kansas we go...
How Hubby and I met is a pretty interesting story, so I guess I will tell it for all the world to have a chuckle:
First let me explain a bit more about myself... my marrying Brandon was a little surprising seeing as he really wasn't what people expected me to marry...
He is a good mix of a lot of men in my life, and not "men" as in "past boyfriends", "men" as in "family men" that I love... my dad, my stepfather, my little brother.... its all quite comical.
Oh and that whole "past boyfriends" thing is a complete joke: Brandon was my first and only boyfriend. Lets just say that as a teenager I valued myself as a woman pretty seriously. Sure I had crushes and what-not, but never was wanting a "boyfriend". Let's remember- I was a pretty angry teenager and I still hated men a lot, but gosh I was still attracted to the opposite sex! And let's face it, I was an average girl who wore very little make-up and wore clothes that were too big for her. No teenage boy wants to date a girl who is not showing off her body. Well no boy in Western New York did, to my knowledge... well I did have some boys who chased after me, but that was after high school when all the health crap started going down and I was not interested.
That reminds me of a funny story. As a young adult I worked in one of the local hotels (there are three, two of which are owned by the same company- I worked for the latter company) which a bunch of friends. It was fun while it lasted. One of the maintenance guys who was about my age shown interest in me. I was only interested as a friend because his values were completely different from mine. I went to church. He did not. But he said he would go to church for me. No thank you. Please for the love of all things beautiful do NOT go to church FOR me. You are not doing me any favors. Church and "religion" are supposed to be personal things for yourself. Going to impress somebody totally feeds into every stereotype out there. Gosh.
At first I was friendly to him because I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but he wouldn't stop harassing me so I started being myself. Mean and sarcastic. He was a musician so he wrote a song for me: "Mandy Why Do You Hate Me". He serenaded me in the kitchen while I was eating my meal. Classic. I laughed so hard. I felt kind of bad for him until he asked me if I was a lesbian. Jerk. Just because I was not interested in you doesn't mean that I must be a lesbian! Get over yourself ass.
It was one of those moments that I will never forget! I look back at it fondly. Ha!
Back to my original story... I always thought I would marry someone older than me who was calm and knew *exactly* what he wanted out of life. Tall, brown hair (preferably curly hair) with brown eyes. Well God thought to send me someone totally different.
Brandon is tall, with brown hair (that is slowly fading away), but with striking blue eyes, and he is four years *younger* than me. Now that wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the fact that when I met him he had *just* turned 20 years old. I was 24 getting ready to turn 25!
My mother and step-father are 19 years apart, but they met when they were *much* older and had families.... so even though I had seen couples who were years apart in age it was still kind of weird in my eyes to date someone that much younger than me.
I met Brandon at Walmart. Oh Wonderful Walmart! Who doesn't love Walmart? *This girl right here*
I had just gotten back into town from school and needed to do some shopping. I was dressed in jeans, a baggy tee shirt, and a baseball cap. That's certainly appropriate attire for meeting men.... yeah.
When I'm shopping I have a one-track mind, I want to get in, get out, and be done with it. I don't pay attention to who else is in the store or who I may meet there. I just want to get my stuff and get out. So unbeknownst to me there was a young man "checking me out", Brandon worked there in the produce department and he was chatting with the door greeter... This door greeter- she is a gem. Everyone knows her (well this is a small town and she is a native, so its only natural that she know everyone and everyone know her.) my mom chats with her regularly, but at the time I don't think she recognized me as my mother's daughter.
So here are Brandon and the door greeter chatting it up- apparently about women and relationships, the door greeter wanted to hook him up with someone so she was asking him what kind of girl he's interested in. He saw me walk by- pointed at me and said "I'd like to end up with a girl like that".
Well whaddya know.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Continuing the Journey : Take Three
If you just happened upon my little corner of the world wide web, I suggest you go back two posts and start from the beginning to catch up....
Moving to NC at 21 years old, sicker than a dog, happy to be released from adult pressures for the moment; the time has come to figure out what the hell is going on with my body.
Now listen, I'm a completely stubborn and determined person. When I have my eyes set on something, I will not stop until, whatever it is, is in my possession. I did not want to sit and have a pity party. I did not want people lavishing their sympathies on me (quite frankly, don't want it- don't need it), there are others suffering a lot more than me so just because I'm sitting in front of your face doesn't mean I warrant your sympathies and pathetic looks.
With that being said, I signed back up for college.
I took online classes first, then gradually built myself back up to taking campus classes. I commuted an hour each way to campus since my mom lives in the "hills" of NC~
Since being a student again I was able to jump on my mother's health insurance. A year after moving to NC I even went back to work. All the while being fatigued beyond belief and in constant abdominal pain.
No I don't want a gold star sticker.
I just want to prove to any of you pansies out there that if you put your mind to it, stop having a pity party, you can do anything. (Disclaimer: if you are truly too physically tired and fatigued to do stuff- by all means please take care of yourself and get better. I'm not saying your weak for not "doing stuff", just don't let whatever is going on control you or dictate your life.)
Oh I'm sure there were family, friends, acquaintances, who may have thought I was digging my own grave, but then what is living worth if I just sit on my dupa all day long thinking about how physically bad I feel?
How about this: you do what you feel is right for your body, and trust me to do what is right for myself and my body?
During this time between 2001-02, I started college again, went back to work, and was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease. That diagnosis was not easy to get to, it took a lot of doctor appointments, a lot of questions, and a lot of poking where I didn't need to be poked. *hmph*
When I first started to see my mom's primary care physician, my hemoglobin count was four. Yes, single digit, number 4. The normal range is 12-14.
(explanation: your hemoglobin is what carries the oxygen in your blood to various muscles and organs. At a count of four I probably should have been dead.)
Needless to say I was iron-deficient anemic. Had stool samples done and blood was escaping through the wrong end. Which brought me to a Gastroenterologist. Oh what fun to be the only person under 50 years of age in a waiting room. Talk about uncomfortable.
And my doctor didn't have a really good bedside manner. He thought I was taking this as a joke. Well lets just forget that some people laugh out of nervousness! Geez.
There was only one way to treat this: his way. After I did what I was told, took the recommended drugs- some mesalamine, prednisone, and then the hottest corticosteroid out there for Crohn's and Colitis: Pentasa. Oh Pentasa. You worked for a while, then something terrible happened. I got even sicker! Thanks a lot!
I started Pentasa probably in late 2003 or early 2004, after I had been on it about a year an abcess formed and attached itself to the wall of my intestines. During this time I had graduated with my AAS and started a "real job" with some really great and awesome benefits. These totally awesome health benefits paid a surgeon to take two feet of intestine out of my body. Thief!
Ok so it was "diseased" intestine, but it was mine nonetheless.
I felt great for about five years after that. In medical terms I was in "remission". Gosh. The only thing worse than having Crohn's or Colitis is Cancer. Ugh.
In those five years I met my husband who is totally loving and understanding and is overall really great for being a male. *sniggering* Ok so I didn't have the greatest male role model in my life, I was a very angry teenager and held a lot of bitterness and hated men. No I was never a lesbian never will be because women are crazy and I have enough of my own baggage to carry thankyouverymuch.
I apologize for stammering and ranting, I feel like I'm "talking" really fast. I'm just trying to get a lot out there at once. So let me slow down a little bit...
It is my personal opinion that my anger, bitterness, un-forgiveness, and stress- oh yes the stress, as well as a piss-poor diet led to Crohn's Disease. Mock me if you will, don't be fooled by what the medical industry wants you to believe.
My parents divorced when I was about ten years old, yeah it happens, it still sucks a lot though. My mother remarried to a great guy who treats her like a queen and now they are in a place where he can give her whatever she wants. At the time I hated him. But remember, I hated all men, and my step-father was there so he got all my crap. He's a good man for not leaving my mom. Oh there were hard times, but they stuck through it. I'm glad they did.
Don't get me wrong, I love my father, he's my father. He gave me the X chromosome to be a female. Does that sound too harsh? Well I apologize, but that's about the extent of it. I repeat- I love my father. He is who he is and I've learned that I can't expect him to be something he is not. And that's ok. I didn't even need Dr. Phil to tell me that. My Father in Heaven did.
So through all that baggage and emotional crap I was able to find a good man that puts up with my junk. I love him. Lots.
*******************************************
Back to where I was in my story:
During the almost five years of my remission, I got married, returned to school, had a baby, went on with my life.
Then my wonderful husband wanted to move back to Kansas... and I will end with that for today.
Moving to NC at 21 years old, sicker than a dog, happy to be released from adult pressures for the moment; the time has come to figure out what the hell is going on with my body.
Now listen, I'm a completely stubborn and determined person. When I have my eyes set on something, I will not stop until, whatever it is, is in my possession. I did not want to sit and have a pity party. I did not want people lavishing their sympathies on me (quite frankly, don't want it- don't need it), there are others suffering a lot more than me so just because I'm sitting in front of your face doesn't mean I warrant your sympathies and pathetic looks.
With that being said, I signed back up for college.
I took online classes first, then gradually built myself back up to taking campus classes. I commuted an hour each way to campus since my mom lives in the "hills" of NC~
Since being a student again I was able to jump on my mother's health insurance. A year after moving to NC I even went back to work. All the while being fatigued beyond belief and in constant abdominal pain.
No I don't want a gold star sticker.
I just want to prove to any of you pansies out there that if you put your mind to it, stop having a pity party, you can do anything. (Disclaimer: if you are truly too physically tired and fatigued to do stuff- by all means please take care of yourself and get better. I'm not saying your weak for not "doing stuff", just don't let whatever is going on control you or dictate your life.)
Oh I'm sure there were family, friends, acquaintances, who may have thought I was digging my own grave, but then what is living worth if I just sit on my dupa all day long thinking about how physically bad I feel?
How about this: you do what you feel is right for your body, and trust me to do what is right for myself and my body?
During this time between 2001-02, I started college again, went back to work, and was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease. That diagnosis was not easy to get to, it took a lot of doctor appointments, a lot of questions, and a lot of poking where I didn't need to be poked. *hmph*
When I first started to see my mom's primary care physician, my hemoglobin count was four. Yes, single digit, number 4. The normal range is 12-14.
(explanation: your hemoglobin is what carries the oxygen in your blood to various muscles and organs. At a count of four I probably should have been dead.)
Needless to say I was iron-deficient anemic. Had stool samples done and blood was escaping through the wrong end. Which brought me to a Gastroenterologist. Oh what fun to be the only person under 50 years of age in a waiting room. Talk about uncomfortable.
And my doctor didn't have a really good bedside manner. He thought I was taking this as a joke. Well lets just forget that some people laugh out of nervousness! Geez.
There was only one way to treat this: his way. After I did what I was told, took the recommended drugs- some mesalamine, prednisone, and then the hottest corticosteroid out there for Crohn's and Colitis: Pentasa. Oh Pentasa. You worked for a while, then something terrible happened. I got even sicker! Thanks a lot!
I started Pentasa probably in late 2003 or early 2004, after I had been on it about a year an abcess formed and attached itself to the wall of my intestines. During this time I had graduated with my AAS and started a "real job" with some really great and awesome benefits. These totally awesome health benefits paid a surgeon to take two feet of intestine out of my body. Thief!
Ok so it was "diseased" intestine, but it was mine nonetheless.
I felt great for about five years after that. In medical terms I was in "remission". Gosh. The only thing worse than having Crohn's or Colitis is Cancer. Ugh.
In those five years I met my husband who is totally loving and understanding and is overall really great for being a male. *sniggering* Ok so I didn't have the greatest male role model in my life, I was a very angry teenager and held a lot of bitterness and hated men. No I was never a lesbian never will be because women are crazy and I have enough of my own baggage to carry thankyouverymuch.
I apologize for stammering and ranting, I feel like I'm "talking" really fast. I'm just trying to get a lot out there at once. So let me slow down a little bit...
It is my personal opinion that my anger, bitterness, un-forgiveness, and stress- oh yes the stress, as well as a piss-poor diet led to Crohn's Disease. Mock me if you will, don't be fooled by what the medical industry wants you to believe.
My parents divorced when I was about ten years old, yeah it happens, it still sucks a lot though. My mother remarried to a great guy who treats her like a queen and now they are in a place where he can give her whatever she wants. At the time I hated him. But remember, I hated all men, and my step-father was there so he got all my crap. He's a good man for not leaving my mom. Oh there were hard times, but they stuck through it. I'm glad they did.
Don't get me wrong, I love my father, he's my father. He gave me the X chromosome to be a female. Does that sound too harsh? Well I apologize, but that's about the extent of it. I repeat- I love my father. He is who he is and I've learned that I can't expect him to be something he is not. And that's ok. I didn't even need Dr. Phil to tell me that. My Father in Heaven did.
So through all that baggage and emotional crap I was able to find a good man that puts up with my junk. I love him. Lots.
*******************************************
Back to where I was in my story:
During the almost five years of my remission, I got married, returned to school, had a baby, went on with my life.
Then my wonderful husband wanted to move back to Kansas... and I will end with that for today.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
First Blog : Take Two
Where I left off: 21 years old and moving to North Carolina, just lost my maternal Grandmother and Aunt within the same year. Lost 30 pounds. In a lot of constant abdominal pain. Cannot even stand straight. Sometimes vomiting. I eat but nothing sticks. I'm tired. I'm weak. I just want to sleep. My mother packs my stuff, my cat, and me into a truck and we are off. Bye bye Western New York, bye bye childhood friends, bye bye extended family.
At this time in my life I'm not sure why this turmoil is happening to me. We all knew my Grandmother was dying, she had been in a decline for the better part of a year before she passed, but it doesn't prepare you. Doesn't mean you're ready to let that person go. She had always had health problems, battling polio as a child~ even becoming paralyzed for a time because of it. If it wasn't one thing it was another, but she never let it show. She never let it get her down. My Grandmother was a dynamic person, always seeing the good in people, a woman of unwavering faith, a beautiful artist, she inspired me.
And then.
My Aunt. Scheduled to die within six months of my Grandmother's passing. Diagnosed with Stage 4 Breast Cancer. She didn't realize her health problems were so severe as Breast Cancer. She had back problems, our family has a history of back problems. Those will go away eventually. But they didn't. So when she did go to a doctor it was too late, the cancer had spread thats why her back was so bad.
Not only did I watch my Grandmother die, I watched my Aunt die also. Another strong woman in my life. She was my mother's "second mother", the eldest daughter~ the second eldest of six kids, my mom being the baby, she was there for my mom: disciplining, dressing, feeding, giving advice. Even as a young adult my mother depended on her for so much support. And now her light was fading at a rapid rate.
I had barely begun my adult life and witnessed two supporting figures disappear from existence on this earth. I was devastated. I tried my hardest to keep my faith. The stress consumed me. And it ate me up from the inside out. My Aunt, battling Breast Cancer, offered her home to me because she saw my needs, my struggle to live on my own and go to college, but I couldn't accept it. It was too hard. A part of me wanted to move in so bad to help her and my Uncle out with whatever was needed, but the other part of me was completely mortified to have to witness another loved one slowly pass on. I guess I was selfish. No. I know I was selfish. Too busy feeling sorry for myself at the beautiful woman I was losing, it was easier to visit as often as I could rather than live with it every day until she died.
...................................................
Doctors have their opinion on why Crohn's Disease decided to make an appearance in my system, the consensus nowadays seems to be a hereditary disorder. Not in my case. I know of no family member suffering from this debilitating disorder. Just me. But I have my own opinion on the "why"s.
Stress was the completing factor that invited Crohn's Disease into my perfectly healthy temple of the Holy Spirit. But stress was the last piece of the puzzle, other pieces played their part and fell into place slowly over the years.
And that is another story for tomorrow. Right now I just finished my dinner, still trying to organize my life, my health, and this blog. Eventually I will complete my journey from eight years ago to now, and then explore how I am going to control this with strictly diet and no meds. I hear you doctors all over the world crying and throwing their arms up in the air at me right now! I see your skeptical looks! And I will not be hindered! These drugs have made me better, but have also cost me a lot of money. And the piggy bank is negative. The odds are already stacked against me, its time to take some real risks.
At this time in my life I'm not sure why this turmoil is happening to me. We all knew my Grandmother was dying, she had been in a decline for the better part of a year before she passed, but it doesn't prepare you. Doesn't mean you're ready to let that person go. She had always had health problems, battling polio as a child~ even becoming paralyzed for a time because of it. If it wasn't one thing it was another, but she never let it show. She never let it get her down. My Grandmother was a dynamic person, always seeing the good in people, a woman of unwavering faith, a beautiful artist, she inspired me.
And then.
My Aunt. Scheduled to die within six months of my Grandmother's passing. Diagnosed with Stage 4 Breast Cancer. She didn't realize her health problems were so severe as Breast Cancer. She had back problems, our family has a history of back problems. Those will go away eventually. But they didn't. So when she did go to a doctor it was too late, the cancer had spread thats why her back was so bad.
Not only did I watch my Grandmother die, I watched my Aunt die also. Another strong woman in my life. She was my mother's "second mother", the eldest daughter~ the second eldest of six kids, my mom being the baby, she was there for my mom: disciplining, dressing, feeding, giving advice. Even as a young adult my mother depended on her for so much support. And now her light was fading at a rapid rate.
I had barely begun my adult life and witnessed two supporting figures disappear from existence on this earth. I was devastated. I tried my hardest to keep my faith. The stress consumed me. And it ate me up from the inside out. My Aunt, battling Breast Cancer, offered her home to me because she saw my needs, my struggle to live on my own and go to college, but I couldn't accept it. It was too hard. A part of me wanted to move in so bad to help her and my Uncle out with whatever was needed, but the other part of me was completely mortified to have to witness another loved one slowly pass on. I guess I was selfish. No. I know I was selfish. Too busy feeling sorry for myself at the beautiful woman I was losing, it was easier to visit as often as I could rather than live with it every day until she died.
...................................................
Doctors have their opinion on why Crohn's Disease decided to make an appearance in my system, the consensus nowadays seems to be a hereditary disorder. Not in my case. I know of no family member suffering from this debilitating disorder. Just me. But I have my own opinion on the "why"s.
Stress was the completing factor that invited Crohn's Disease into my perfectly healthy temple of the Holy Spirit. But stress was the last piece of the puzzle, other pieces played their part and fell into place slowly over the years.
And that is another story for tomorrow. Right now I just finished my dinner, still trying to organize my life, my health, and this blog. Eventually I will complete my journey from eight years ago to now, and then explore how I am going to control this with strictly diet and no meds. I hear you doctors all over the world crying and throwing their arms up in the air at me right now! I see your skeptical looks! And I will not be hindered! These drugs have made me better, but have also cost me a lot of money. And the piggy bank is negative. The odds are already stacked against me, its time to take some real risks.
Friday, December 31, 2010
New Years Eve 2010
My first post. Hmm. Wonder if anyone will read this? Well anyways, its New Years Eve and I sit here while my son watches Cars for the second time today thinking about my future. My family's future. I'm jobless. Well not exactly~ I'm a stay-at-home mother and that is job enough thankyouverymuch.
My hubby just relocated us in October back to NC from spending about 18 months in KS. I spent that time working on my Masters degree in Fine Arts through an accredited online program and trying to stay away from tornadoes. It worked pretty well, God listened to my prayers, but only a week after moving back to NC there were two tornado warnings within the same week. That was so not cool. I suppose it was a moving away gift from KS. I re-gifted it.
I guess I'm straying from the real purpose of this blog. Or am I? This blog is about me, isn't it? I don't want to bore you all with day to day details of all the new words my two year old is learning and saying and how he doesn't like his diaper changed but won't sit on the toilet. No. This is about something more serious, yet I have acquired a great sense of humor about it.
I'm sitting here thinking about the job I have yet don't receive green paper for~ just lots of hugs and kisses. Which is nice, but quite frankly, with the dreaded Crohn's Disease factor, and college, I've racked up quite a lengthy bill in which I have no idea how any of it is going to get paid.
With these thoughts in mind I would like this blog to motivate the insurance-less to get insurance, no matter what the heck it is, I don't care if it's the cheapest plan on the planet, just get some. And also to motivate you to eat healthier and smarter. No more dinners in a box. And no more McDonald's. I'm serious. Just think: the hamburger patties fast-food restaurants use are made from heads and hooves and other scrap body parts. It's true. An article on Yahoo! told me so.
To move forward I think I should start at the beginning, but not the very beginning, because then we will be here all night........
Crohn's Disease.
It sucks.
So does Ulcerative Colitis, and Celiac Disease. These diseases affect the digestive tract which in my opinion is the most important system in the body. Sure we need lungs to breathe and a heart to pump blood, but without food and water no life can be sustained.
I was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease eight years ago, even though I believe I've had it for nine or ten. I was 22 years old, living on my own, doing community college part-time, living in my hometown in Western New York. (not the city, I've been to the city ONCE, do not ask me if I've been to broadway)
I lost about 30 pounds within a year, maybe in a shorter time-span, I'm not sure, I never owned a scale. I still don't. If my pants fit, great! If they get too big, that sucks for me.
I wrestled with a lot of health problems due to this and like any 22 year old I didn't have insurance. Two powerful, wonderful, and inspirational women in my life passed away within a year of each other, and with work and college I was not paying attention to myself. I was feeling sorry for my family and the lights that have been extinguished from this planet~ but was not paying attention to my light and how it was flickering.
For my Aunt's funeral my mother came up from NC (she had been living there for a few years since this time) took one look at me and like any self-respecting mother told me I was moving to NC with her.
God Bless her.
I had lots of family that were concerned but too afraid to say anything. A friend thought I was anorexic. I was NOT. I was greatly offended because I never had that kind of body image or ever portrayed in any way that I didn't like my body. But it can only take a mother's quick kick to the rear to get things back on track.
So in October of 2001 I moved to the *ahem* Great State of North Carolina.
We'll continue this later......
**disclaimer**
I am a classic sarcastic-smart ass Northerner, if you are offended with anything I write, or don't get the subtleties of my sarcasm in my writing~ then I am truly sorry. But get over it.
My hubby just relocated us in October back to NC from spending about 18 months in KS. I spent that time working on my Masters degree in Fine Arts through an accredited online program and trying to stay away from tornadoes. It worked pretty well, God listened to my prayers, but only a week after moving back to NC there were two tornado warnings within the same week. That was so not cool. I suppose it was a moving away gift from KS. I re-gifted it.
I guess I'm straying from the real purpose of this blog. Or am I? This blog is about me, isn't it? I don't want to bore you all with day to day details of all the new words my two year old is learning and saying and how he doesn't like his diaper changed but won't sit on the toilet. No. This is about something more serious, yet I have acquired a great sense of humor about it.
I'm sitting here thinking about the job I have yet don't receive green paper for~ just lots of hugs and kisses. Which is nice, but quite frankly, with the dreaded Crohn's Disease factor, and college, I've racked up quite a lengthy bill in which I have no idea how any of it is going to get paid.
With these thoughts in mind I would like this blog to motivate the insurance-less to get insurance, no matter what the heck it is, I don't care if it's the cheapest plan on the planet, just get some. And also to motivate you to eat healthier and smarter. No more dinners in a box. And no more McDonald's. I'm serious. Just think: the hamburger patties fast-food restaurants use are made from heads and hooves and other scrap body parts. It's true. An article on Yahoo! told me so.
To move forward I think I should start at the beginning, but not the very beginning, because then we will be here all night........
Crohn's Disease.
It sucks.
So does Ulcerative Colitis, and Celiac Disease. These diseases affect the digestive tract which in my opinion is the most important system in the body. Sure we need lungs to breathe and a heart to pump blood, but without food and water no life can be sustained.
I was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease eight years ago, even though I believe I've had it for nine or ten. I was 22 years old, living on my own, doing community college part-time, living in my hometown in Western New York. (not the city, I've been to the city ONCE, do not ask me if I've been to broadway)
I lost about 30 pounds within a year, maybe in a shorter time-span, I'm not sure, I never owned a scale. I still don't. If my pants fit, great! If they get too big, that sucks for me.
I wrestled with a lot of health problems due to this and like any 22 year old I didn't have insurance. Two powerful, wonderful, and inspirational women in my life passed away within a year of each other, and with work and college I was not paying attention to myself. I was feeling sorry for my family and the lights that have been extinguished from this planet~ but was not paying attention to my light and how it was flickering.
For my Aunt's funeral my mother came up from NC (she had been living there for a few years since this time) took one look at me and like any self-respecting mother told me I was moving to NC with her.
God Bless her.
I had lots of family that were concerned but too afraid to say anything. A friend thought I was anorexic. I was NOT. I was greatly offended because I never had that kind of body image or ever portrayed in any way that I didn't like my body. But it can only take a mother's quick kick to the rear to get things back on track.
So in October of 2001 I moved to the *ahem* Great State of North Carolina.
We'll continue this later......
**disclaimer**
I am a classic sarcastic-smart ass Northerner, if you are offended with anything I write, or don't get the subtleties of my sarcasm in my writing~ then I am truly sorry. But get over it.
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