Sunday, January 19, 2014

The Wedding

Less than a month after my brother died my  "But She's Pretty" child got married. A big formal  production full of judges, senators, lawyers, Federal agents, etc. Now first it is very hard for me to be in that type of group and keep my mouth shut. I think I did fairly well and only pissed off five or six of them. That's a good record for me. I could have done more if my daughter had not assigned me a "keeper".

The planning for an event that size is absolutely unreal and time consuming. I was still in the grieving process which doesn't go well with wedding planning to begin with.

I use to think Peacocks were the prettiest bird, now I hate the motherfuckers with a purple passion, which for those uninformed is worse than a pink, or say yellow passion. Her theme was Peacocks, everywhere you looked there was a damn Peacock, Peacock feathers or Peacock shit. I will literally snap and kill the next child of mine that even mentions a Peacock themed wedding! I drank my Peacock drink imagining the whole time that it was the blood of at least one of those running around the area. I mean, you know it's bad when the photographer comes up to you and whispers "I have some hilarious shots of you interacting with the Peacocks that I am not putting in the wedding book but I will put them on disc and send them to you." He did and even I must admit they are pretty funny, in hindsight. I may need some type of  Peacock therapy to recover.

The best photograph of the evening was of just her and I. In the photo it looks like she is leaning over, hand up to her mouth, saying something very sweet to me and I am smiling ever so sweetly in return. In reality what she was saying was "Mom, don't tell anyone but I was in such a hurry to get dressed I forgot to put my underwear on!"  The photographer just happen to catch it before we both double over laughing. Ah....memories.....

I committed only one crime during the evening and I had an accomplice. We stole a golf cart. We did return it though. We were told after a certain time at the reception that the golf carts were off limits. It was around 11:00pm when my oldest son looked at me and said "Wouldn't it be fun to just grab one of those and take it for a ride around the golf course in the dark, as fast as we can go?" I agreed. So we did. He drove around once and I drove around once and then we politely returned it and pleaded stupidity. We didn't know we weren't suppose to use them after 8:00pm.  Unfortunately for "But She's Pretty" child, this is the one she assigned to be my "keeper". Hey, I figure if an event costs that much, if you have to wear formal wear that many hours and you have to deal with fucking Peacocks you should be allowed to escape on the damn golf carts anytime you damn well please!

Humor aside, it was a beautiful candlelight ceremony in a beautiful setting and of course the bride was beautiful. But those damn Peacocks.............

What Do You Do When The Keeper Of Your Secrets Is Gone?

In early September we got the devastating news that my brother had cancer and was told that there wasn't really anything they could do, it was already stage IV, he would live another 6-12 months. We ended up only having 2 weeks with him. While I am not glad that he had cancer or that he died I am forever grateful that he did not suffer and went fast.

But just what do I do now that the keeper of all my secrets is gone? Who do I tell them too? Who makes fun of the rest of the family with me? Who protects me now and tells me everything will be alright? Just where the fuck is Howdy Doody?

He was my oldest brother, I could tell him anything and know it never went anywhere but from my mouth to his ear. He could do the same with me. Yes, he was like any brother growing up, tortured me. But he was also the one that paid the biggest amount in blackmail money when I caught him doing something that was going to get him in trouble if I told. He bluffed me once. I told. He never bluffed again and I upped the ante after that.

Even through wives, husbands and children we never grew apart and he could make me laugh like no other person on earth. He's gone now, and I have to live with that. I still talk to him everyday and in small ways he lets me know he is there and he hears me.

What I can't live with is where in the hell is Howdy Doody?! Howdy Doody was an old children's television show we loved, a little before our time but we loved the re-runs. One year for Christmas my brother got the coveted Howdy Doody Deluxe puppet on strings. I always wanted to play with it and he would always say "When I die, you can have it" in his most serious 9 yr old voice. When the excitement of Howdy Doody wore off, being a collector's item he was packaged and put away many years ago and has always been a running joke between us. The day before he died he told me he guessed I would get Howdy Doody finally and we laughed. The only thing of my brother's that I wanted was Howdy Doody. The problem is we have searched high and low for that puppet and he is no where to be found. My mother doesn't lose things, she knows exactly where everything is at all times. Her motto is "Everything has a place and everything should be in it's place." That is except Howdy Doody. He isn't in his "place", he was there last year when she tidied up everything's places but he is gone now. I just know my brother has found a way to take Howdy Doody with him and is up in heaven laughing at the search going on. OK, so I don't really know that but I do know I prefer to think that than to think that Howdy Doody is lost forever.

Goodbye sweet brother, I will miss and love you forever! By the way if you do have Howdy Doody with you be prepared to pay big time when I see you next!


My mother had major surgery in July, not easy on someone who is 84 yrs old. I saw my mother in a state I have never seen her in, vulnerable. At 84 my mother still mows her own yard, drives, goes whenever and wherever she wants. In all my life I have never seen her need anyone. It shook me up. She was in intensive care for three weeks, dependent on everyone for everything. I'm not saying she did so quietly, she expressed her displeasure at the situation to anyone who walked through the door. Exactly why I suspect she recovered so quickly, nothing but pure determination and quite possibly brute force. I did notice the day she was moved to a regular room the Dr. had a slight discoloration on one side of his face.

We were told that we were looking at least a year before she would be back to her normal self and at least three more weeks in the hospital. She left the hospital six days later and is already back to her normal self. Her Dr. told me he has never seen anyone, of any age recover from that type of surgery so quickly. Obviously he does not know my mother. It's a little hard to fight with your sisters, keep up with what the neighbors are doing, gossip on the phone all day, socialize on the internet in hopes of finding just where I have moved my blog and under what name it is so she can tell the rest of the family what I have said about them, trim your bushes and mow your yard, flirt with the AC man all from the hospital. He did not calculate all of this into her surgery plan, I bet he does if she ever needs surgery again.

Ironically, a little less than a week after she came home I had to have the exact same surgery. The difference being mine went according to plan. Possibly because I don't care about the neighbors, I refuse to fight with my siblings, my AC man has a serious case of ass crack, I am not trimming any bushes or mowing any yards, hate the telephone and I already know where my blog is.


The term doesn't exist. It's something someone made up to fool us into a sense of hope. My boys graduated, and supposedly moved out for college. I wasn't dreading the empty nest like so many do, I was looking forward to it. I could run through the house naked and shout "Impeach Obama!", I could take eight hour bubble baths, there would always be cereal in the pantry when I wanted a bowl, I could go to sleep when I wanted, get up when I wanted, no more dental appointments to worry with, I would never again have to wake up to a messy kitchen or den, things would be exactly where I placed them the day before, I would always have gas in my car, I could have afternoon tea without some smart ass visiting kid say "Uh...we don't do that here, where you from anyway?",  It would be peaceful.

My first clue that this is nothing more than a myth was when it took them three months to get everything out of their rooms, one still isn't finished. Don't they get I have plans for those rooms? A sewing room, a computer room, etc. Their idea of moving out is to take what you need immediately and just drop back in and get something else if you have the need. They now have two weeks or it all hits the trash bin. If you're going to move then damn it, MOVE EVERYTHING!

Oh and did I mention their grocery shopping? Rather convenient for them. They shop from my pantry when I am not at home.

Date night at the movies? My house. I watch the Blu-Ray maybe four times a year and that is being generous, they want to come watch it three or four nights a week. I'm giving them the damn thing, they get far more use out of it than I do. Oh wait...then they would actually have to clean up their own messes and buy their own snacks....that may not work for them.

Video games? Let's go to Mom's, she has four televisions and we can hook them up and all have our own screen to look at, at our house we only have three televisions. She won't mind if we yell and curse at the screen, she sleeps with a fan on anyway. Nevermind that at our house there isn't even a mouse to hear us.

Gas in the car? Not a problem as long as you have enough to drive to Mom's house and switch cars, she always has gas. She probably won't even notice we drove to Georgia to buy lottery tickets and back. It's a fucking three hour trip guys, I notice!

Now if these guys lived in a dump I could half way understand it, or even if they lived with a houseful of people and needed to get away once in a while. But they don't. They have a very nice 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom, den with fireplace, glassed in sun-room, fully stocked kitchen with new appliances (although the stove may not be usable since I'm not sure they have bothered to take the plastic off of it yet), dining room, every room is nicely furnished and they live in the middle of 187 acres of land complete with 4 wheelers and a gun range. There are three people living there and each have their own bedroom. They have no rent or utilities to pay and all the amenities of home. What is their problem?!!! Oh yes...they would have to clean up after themselves.

Just last week I got a call from university telling me that my children are above average in intelligence and will attend next year on full scholarships.  Was I wrong to ask if that could be several states away and if they could add a clause that they must take all their belongings with them?

So please for all those just waiting on the empty nest, don't get excited, it's nothing more than a myth given us at the birth of our children to give us hope that this is not forever, there is an end in sight. Now I'm afraid to even pray they find a nice wife, that may be a trick too and I would end up with two extra people hanging out at my house all the time. Grandchildren? Even the word makes me shudder!

Graduation Day

It's Sunday, lazy time by the fire and catch up day. I haven't blogged in so long I'm not sure I even remember how. Life sneaked in and took all I had to just live, it didn't leave me anything to blog with. The next few blogs will catch you up on why I haven't had time to blog the last few months.

Let's start with Graduation

My boys graduated in May. With all the others all I had to do was show up and look pretty, sit through the ceremony, have a few pictures taken and go home with a sigh of relief that I had somehow managed to pull it off once again. Not this time.

I home schooled because I felt it the better choice for my children. They didn't need to learn how to do recess, they got plenty of play at home. They were all very accomplished at eating so that made lunch wasted time too. Then there is the fact that no one, absolutely no one, can be prepared to take on The Demon Seed and The Devil's Advocate. They can make a school shooting look like a Sunday picnic. Being close friends with the school administrator put me in a position of having far more to do with any school (with the exception of attending) than I ever wanted to be. But weighing the pros and cons I decided it was better to be a little more involved than planned rather than being sued by the school system for something one of them did.

The week of graduation started nice and peaceful, the sun was shining, the weather was beautiful and then I get the call. We don't have a photographer, he is in the hospital with the flu. I will NOT apologize for the thoughts that went through my head concerning his condition and possible outcome. So at the last minute I am running around trying to find someone, anyone who isn't already booked up. Just as I was considering throwing a Nikon around the neck of the homeless man that stands at the corner of K-Mart I remembered another close friend of mine is a professional photographer who hates children almost as much as I do, therefore avoiding any and all school functions. I begged and promised that none of them would attack him and eat his face off he agreed, as long as I run interference between him and parents. Didn't sound like such a bad job, I can run interference very well, so I promised. What I didn't see coming was all the gowns that were suppose to come already pressed with tassels attached to caps coming folded up in very small plastic squares, having to print out 200 last minute programs for ingrates that showed up without sending in their RSVP's and the computer system that runs the video being written in a programming language that might as well have been Chinese to us making it incompatible with our own system. I grabbed Demon Seed and sent him to work on the programming problem, which he had rewritten in no time so we did get video. I am ironing all those gowns and printing programs while other school officials were trying to keep the hoards contained and doing other last minute work. The poor photographer was on his own, he is now speaking to me again, but in rather clipped British tones. At some point during this fiasco I kicked off my shoes and promptly forgot where. I barely made it to my seat to see my own children receive their diploma's when the horror hit me that at one point their sperm donor and I had to go onstage to receive a handshake and a rose and I still had no shoes. It was like one of those dreams you have where you have to be someplace but can't find an important article of your clothing so you're in a panic. I am scanning the feet of those close to me hoping against hope that at least one of them wore a size 5 or at least close enough to it that I didn't clip clap up the stairs. No such luck, someone, probably me, had seated us beside a family of Donald Duck's on each side. I was resigned to go barefooted and just explain the chaos years down the road when anyone looked at the pictures. About that time here comes my friend, running down the aisle like a football player holding my shoes under her arms. She had found them in some far recess of the church. So at least I managed to go onstage with shoes on that were actually mine. The problem was we went onstage to be met by no students. Our brilliant students, you know, the ones that played around during the whole rehearsal? Well, they went to the wrong side of the stage. We both realize the mistake at about the same time and in our attempt to rectify the situation, let's just say our paths crossed like ships in the night and we still ended up on the wrong side of each other. Personally I was ready just to grab the nearest student off his/her chair snatch the damn rose and blame the photographer years down the road for taking the wrong pictures. I also knew that The Devil's Advocate being blessed with my patience must be thinking the same thing and was probably ready to just shake the hand and hug his principle. A little eye contact and one last attempt and we finally arrived on the same side of the stage.

Now it's time for the reception dinner. My friend knowing I can not be trusted around food did not put me in charge of any part of this so I could kick off my shoes and just enjoy all the good food.

The boys graduated with honors, the ceremony was beautiful, we have tons of great pictures and good stories to tell. My shoes? Well they are exactly where I kicked them off the second time and forgot about them. Lost once again in that cavern of a Church.

Monday, May 6, 2013

Why I Didn't Turn To The Blog For Support

I was asked in my last post why I didn't use the blog as a coping tool when all this was happening to me. First off being a medical professional (I realize that reading my rambling blog it may be hard to realize I actually carry the title of Dr, but I do)when you get a call in the middle of the night that your son has been attacked by a shark 600 miles offshore you go into medical mode, not blogger mode. When your specialty has been shock trauma for so many years you know in your mind what your going to be facing when you get a call before you even see the patient. You know that the boats don't carry enough blood products if any to handle the bleeding a shark leaves behind, my son's boat had three bags on board, a drop in the bucket as to what a shark bite victim usually needs. I knew from talking to the ship on the satellite phone his bleeding had slowed but he was still bleeding, that tells you that you have unstable blood vessels, arteries and veins. One wrong move and an artery could go and he could bleed to death in seconds. My mind was on how fast the Coast Guard could fly the 600 miles to get him and did they have enough blood on board to support him until he reached shore and could get to shock trauma and into surgery. I never once thought of this blog or any other blog during that time. I had many colleagues from different hospitals with years trauma knowledge for support only a phone call away. I am 900 miles from my son and he is another 600 miles out in the middle of the ocean, travel and money are then a concern. Then I find out there is one antibiotic on the ship and he is allergic to it. So we knew he was coming in several hours without any antibiotics on board and had a dirty wound, not to mention all the dirty organisms in the sea that could infect the wound. So now we are going to need an infectious disease specialist on call too. We also know ahead of time we don't need any surgeon, we need a hand specialist to access the injury, a hand surgeon and a plastics surgeon on call to do the actual surgery. All of that comes after you stabilize the patient,if you can and with a shark bite there is a lot to stabilize and the patient is usually in shock. Shock scares all of us, it's unpredictable and you never know if you can stabilize a shock patient before you lose them. Then there are Xrays, cat scans and MRI's to be done to access how much damage there is and where the surgeons need to start. I really wanted to see them, again blogging wasn't on my mind, my son's life and how much function he might have left was foremost in my mind. Again, nothing against the blog, but I was in medical mode and blogging is not the first thing on your mind when your son or anyone else's life is at stake. Then surgery,nerves, blood vessels, veins and arteries are not easy to work with, they are slippery, hard to find in an accident like this and hard to suture. Then we had the nerves, you have to find the right ones to reattach, it's like looking for a needle in the dark, then it's always iffy if the reattachment will even work, nerves don't regenerate, in this situation all you can do is pray they are still alive and will work again. It's a long, complicated surgery and even if I wasn't in the operating room myself I have been in there enough in the past to know the surgery in my mind so that is what I did, replayed that surgery over and over in my head, knowing what could go right but also know what could go wrong and that the outcome of a wound that severe is not usually a total success. The difference is this time I can stay detached because this is my child so Mom also kicks in. Mom and medical knowledge are not a good combination. Even though I tried to prepare my son for what his hand would look like after surgery he was still shocked when he was it. He expected this nice long incision and that was it. He didn't realize that many flaps would have to be made to find the vessels, nerves, veins and artery because they were severed and will snap back into the arm, hand or another finger. His tendons were also severed and they snap back even further so you have to find the ends of them too. leaving another incision. He had a lot of bone loss and some bones were crushed to he had to have bone grafts, pins and screws. Some fingernails were almost off but without knowing if the nail bed is damaged to where they wouldn't grow back and not wanting to leave him with no fingernails they used screws to screw them back in place. There was a lot of missing tissue so he had tissue grafts done too. His expected one incision turned out to be about 20, no idea on how many stitches to repair the shark bite, they stopped counting at 300. The chart reads 300+. From looking at it my rough guess would be around 700. Once all was explained to him he did better. The plastics guy was excellent and used every natural fold he could to suture in so someday when all is healed it won't look bad. Naturally not all could be placed in a fold so he will have some scarring, he isn't worried about the scarring he says "Just add them to all the others I have", this was the fearless active and at times plain out stupid child that had more stitches by the time he was six than most people have in their lifetime Next round is bracing for immobilization  then flexor bracing, then at least a year of therapy, but now there is a plan, he is alive and in no danger so Dr Mom can now just be Mom. There was simply too much going on to blog or even think about blogging. It's not that I don't think you would all support me, I do but at that time I needed colleagues with medical knowledge for support. I was not alone, I had family, I had my friend Jackie and I had Donna everyday or anytime I needed them by phone or text or in person.

As for the murder, I had plenty of support from family, so much so that I would turn my phone off at times to stop the calls and rest. Again when something that horrific happens blogging didn't even enter my my mind. We were more concerned with did they catch who did it (the answer is yes), what charges will they bring (pretty much anything they could), will it be a death penalty case (yes it will, which means the trial will drag on for months or years, most likely years). In the beginning calls were flying back and forth because we have two with the same name and it took about an hour to  figure out which one had been murdered and why. The only answer the killer gave after admitting to doing it, and apparently his motive is "because he wanted too". He didn't even know my cousin or anyone that was in the group with my cousin that night. He confessed immediately, one of the many witnesses that saw the whole thing from beginning to end that night wrote down the license plate of his truck so they had him in custody within 30 minutes. My cousins, blood, hair, brain matter and skin was still on his tires and under his truck and the knife used to stab him was still in the front seat with my cousins blood on it and the fool's fingerprints. I guess with that evidence and that many witnesses he figured he might as well confess, they had him anyway.  I'm not sure if I told you how he was murdered. My cousin had gone to the pub to meet up with a group of friends, he sat down and ordered a Coke (he doesn't drink), a strange man came up and ask him if he wanted to fight, my cousin just kind of laughed and told the guy he didn't fight with anyone so he needed to move on, he didn't immediately leave so they ask if the bouncer would remove him from their area, which he did. About an hour later the group decided it was time to leave, the table beside them decided to leave at the same time, they didn't know anyone at that second table. So with both tables and witnesses eating at restaurants on both sides of the pub there were a lot of witnesses. Thank God.  When they got outside the guy that was in the pub earlier ran up from nowhere and stabbed my cousin in the chest and ran away, or so they thought. 911 was called but my cousin told his friend that he was afraid he would bleed to death before they got there so they decided to get in the car and drive around the corner to the hospital. When they were walking in the parking lot my cousin's friend heard a car revving it's engine and turned to look, it was the guy that just stabbed my cousin in a large truck, his friend tried to push my cousin out of the way but the guy just swerved and ran over his stomach area, then he backed up and ran over his head, then pulled forward and ran over his head the second time and fled the scene. The coroner told us that my cousin was alive when he ran over his stomach area and alive when his head was run over the first time, it was the second time that killed him. His whole head was literally crushed, he was unrecognizable. He also said that he would not have survived the stab wound to his chest even if he had not been ran over.  My cousin was a fitness trainer who owned a gym, that gym and being a personal trainer was his life. He was a good person who would do anything for anyone and was well like with a very good reputation in town. Now there is the aftermath, the grieving, what to do with the gym, sell it or let someone else in the family run it, he collected motorcycles, so there are a lot of them to deal with too, his house, his clothes, etc. It will take a while.

When I get mad at the lady that cut me off in traffic, think something is stupid, just want to try some humor, etc. I will blog it but when something serious such as the above two things happen blogging is not even something that enters my head. Too much to deal with at that particular time.

While I thank you for worrying about me and deeply appreciate your concern I thought I needed to explain more in detail what was going on so you could understand why I wasn't blogging about it.

Saturday, May 4, 2013

I Want To Know The Names Of The Blog, FB and Forum Police!

Well, actually before I know their names I actually want to know exactly what training is required, what uniforms they wear, who appoints them to the position and then their names.

What gives them the right to boot someone off for not posting, posting to much or not commenting? Do they not realize that apparently unlike them some people have real lives going on, things that you just can't say "wait a minute I have to run and post on "Blank" or I will get kicked off? Do they not get the fact that posting can be an ordeal for the handicapped and reading that blog or post might be the only bright spot in their day?

So fuck off to the blog, FB and forum police!!!!

This week I am talking to a friend on the phone who tells me she was booted off a popular Facebook page for pugs, I will keep the name of the page to myself because they all know who they are and should be ashamed. This lady is one of the sweetest, most generous people you could meet. I wouldn't even dare to guess how many of the dogs she has sent money to on that page to help when one was sick or needed something. No, she doesn't own a pug, but she does have grandpugs, one of which is mine. My pug would be dead today if it were not for this lady paying for the treatments she needed to live. But let's not get confused here and think she only helped my pug, she has helped many, many pugs on that page and on other pug pages as well. The reason she was booted is unclear. I tell her not to worry about it that as soon as I log back on I will simply add her back. So yesterday I logged on to do that very thing and guess what? I have been booted too. Now I have been with that page since it started, it was conceived through private message between 3 or 4 of us, I was actually the second person to join. I am assuming my reason for being booted was not posting very often. My reason for not posting is the same reason I haven't had the time to blog much, keeping my dog alive, death in my family, my son being attacked by a shark and the long recovery that is going to involve not to mention more surgery and then a murder in my family. All of which has caused major depression and while I may not have posted with my Debbie Downer feelings I did enjoy reading the posts, sometimes they helped make a bad day better.  I'm sorry assholes but posting on your funny pug page was not first and foremost in my mind. I DID post and let you know what was going on, had my pug's Grammy post for me to tell what happened with my son and then posted an update on my son's condition. You knew it all except for the murder, since that just happened in the last few days I was booted before I could tell you. Were my feelings hurt? You damn right they were, so was the dear lady that has helped so many of you. Since she isn't good enough to read and enjoy your fucking posts maybe you all should all take a tally and pay her back for every dime she has helped you with. I am now waiting on someone to come up with the "it was a mistake defense", it always happens when people get called out on something like that.  As for me I don't want added back, would turn you down in a heartbeat if ask back and will remove myself if added back. So don't waste your time or mine. As for her, she would and did give many of you the shirt off her back, many times and you want to treat her like the dirt under your shoes? Fuck off, you all should be ashamed of what you did to her. Don't worry about them Grammy, there isn't a single one of them that can even come close to measuring up to the caliber of person you are.