My grief and grieving process seems to be a bit manic depressive. So, if I am acting surprisingly fine considering or really fucking weird instead…. This is why.
For the most part, I don’t want to talk about this at all. Then sometimes I can’t stop. I’m laughing one moment, sobbing the next. I actually thought I would still go into work. (Pfft. Dumb.) Namely, because right now, the best thing is for me not to think about what happened; keeping busy and being around people helps me stay distracted. I figured sitting alone in my apartment with too much time to think would be very bad for me. (And it is…) However, I only slept a couple of hours last night, then when I missed the bus this morning (it’s usually exactly 9 minutes late and I was early- only a few feet away from the stop when it coasted by right on time, but I just didn’t have the strength to jog after it), I took that as a sign to stay home. I told our office manager, then I got 4 more hours of sleep. Now, I don’t know what to do with myself.

Tonight, I am keeping my hair appointment to get out of here for a while and maybe try to look better than I feel in hopes it will cheer me up somehow. I also need to get groceries for the week of meals here, to pick up my anti-baby pills and to grab a few last minutes presents before Friday. The challenge: I hope I can hold it together enough to do these things without becoming a spectacle.

He is being cremated. I will be receiving some ashes and need to find something to place them in soon. We don’t have enough money for an obituary (the newspaper wanted $180 for only his name and city, wtf), funeral or memorial (he let his life insurance lapse before going into the hospital). So much for “closure;” I *need* the formality of that in order to deal with this!!!!!!
I don’t go back to work until next Wednesday 12/28. I had already scheduled my remaining 4 vacation days to use 2 right before and 2 right after Xmas to extend my holiday, now I’ve added 2 bereavement days to that. Not much of a holiday or vacation, given the circumstances.

I feel like my life is forever changed… and not in a good way…

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I spent all of last week going back and forth between my parent’s apartment, the hospital and my office. One of my coworkers lives near my parents and was kind enough to shuttle me around. It’s about an hour each way because of traffic to get from parents/hospital to work and vice versa.

Dad is basically the same. He’s on a ventilator and 35% oxygen, which is down from 55% when they first admitted him, so that’s a bit better… however, his blood gases are often 90 or below- not so great. (I believe it is 80 and below that get extremely dangerous.) Blood pressure and pulse fluctuate between high and low, but no fevers. He has been given liquid nutrients: calcium and fiber, basically, tube fed food because he’s very malnourished; he weights 125lbs. They put him on propofol, fentanyl and an antibiotic (I forgot the name) initially. Midweek they decided to lower the propofol and start some ativan to slowly wean him off the drugs and wake him a little bit.

They’ve decided he definitely has COPD. One doc said they got the pneumonia about cleared up; another doc said he didn’t have pneumonia and that was just the way complications from the emphysema/chronic bronchitis manifested. Nice to see we’re all on the same page here! *snort* Either way, the shit that comes out when they suction his lungs is horrifying- thick as jelly and very brown from tobacco. They were having to do this pretty often when I was there last time because he was coughing it up and then choking on it as he swallowed it again. (Ew!)

They did the biopsy Friday. The doctor didn’t have time between surgeries to discuss his thoughts beyond saying it looked like it was between stage 2 and stage 3 cancer. If he gets stronger, he might be able to do chemo or radiation, but it probably can’t be cut out. Knowing Dad, he will refuse treatment.

By the end of the week he was opening his eyes sometimes, able to cough on command and squeeze hands. He’s able to use those methods to respond to questions, since he can’t talk right now. They did a tracheotomy, which is a hole/tube in the windpipe to keep the airway clearer. He’s restrained because he is really agitated. He shakes his head “no” violently, tries to wave people to back away and he even made a [feeble - since he's way too weak] attempt to kick a nurse. In fact, he’s so combative they gave him haldol, which is an anti-psychotic that is also sometimes used as an alternate drug to calm difficult patients when other meds aren’t doing the trick or can’t be used due to other illnesses or risks (i.e. heart trouble or, surprise, breathing problems). I suspect they probably think he has some delirium or delusions, but unless it’s due to hypoxia (tissue damage from oxygen deprivation) he experienced while THERE or related to withdrawal from all the drugs they had him on, I really doubt it. I am positive he doesn’t have dementia; there were zero signs of that before he was sedated and it isn’t something that happens overnight!

The nurses are getting really worried that he won’t be cooperative enough to be able to come off sedation. I don’t know what happens then. I do know that the social worker has already started bugging my mom to get him out of the hospital even though he is still critical and not stable yet and put him somewhere else [like a nursing home[ [because he's medicare/medicaid and they won't get paid as much as they would with an insured person taking the bed - awful, sad, true]. The lady hasn’t come right out and said it… yet… but that’s the sense we’re getting. Fuck them. By law we have 120 days to stay, if needed. It’s necessary, assholes.

I picked up some nasty germs from the hospital myself. I had an incredibly painful sore throat. When it eased up I couldn’t breathe through my nose at all. Now, I keep coughing. I wanted to go see Dad tonight, but I don’t want to give him any of my sickness or make whatever I have going on any worse. Maybe tomorrow or Wednesday. :(

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I told her to call me as soon as she found out anything. By 10am, I hadn’t heard from her yet, so I called the hospital and asked for Patient Information. Of course, all they would tell me was that yes, he was there. I told them my mother was in the waiting room and asked if they could page her and ask her call me, since she does not have a cell phone. They agreed. Over an hour later, she still hadn’t called, so I called Patient Information back and they transferred me to Admitting, who would only tell me what room number Dad is in. I wondered what type of floor that was, but they wouldn’t even tell me that. (Turns out, it is the Critical Care unit.)

My mom took a cab back home around noon and called to fill me in: Dad has pneumonia in his lower right lung, blood poisoning (which they think is from the lung infection) and they found a big tumor on his voicebox. The attending physician said it doesn’t look good from him [because of his age, his smoking, his poor nutrition and the size of the mass], but told my mom it was ok to go on home since he was going to be sedated for several hours. The ear/nose/throat specialist wants to do a biopsy to see if the growth is indeed cancer, but they have to get the infection under control first. They say the mass is spongy and almost like a fungus. Honestly, since my dad started getting hoarse over a year ago and recently could only whisper, I have no doubt it is malignant, so it will be a pleasant surprise if they find out it is not.

I had to call my sister in Vegas and give her the news. She started crying before I even got past dad went to the ER because he was having trouble breathing. Much like I had, she has been on him about going to see a doctor too. (I found out he he lied to her though and said he got checked out and everything was fine. She didn’t really believe him, but that’s what he said, so…) Sis asked if she should come out and I told her that would probably be a goo idea. She was going to call for a flight as soon as we got off the phone. She is flying out either tomorrow or Tuesday, depending on what’s available.

I’m not ready to lose Dad yet. But, would I ever be, really?

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So, I think I have found a calling. But… how does one get into film restoration? (Any aspect!) Is it even something I could realistically do? I don’t know. I’m going to start digging around a bit for some answers to my burning questions. You know who I should pester first? Jay. Jay Holben.

Yep.

…

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Well, I hate trying things on. Hate. Hate. Hate. Not because I loathe my body; I think it’s actually shopping I loathe. I want to get in and out as quickly as possible. (This is probably due to my issues with people/crowds…. and also, never having enough money for the things I want.) I figured the hunt might be easier if I got over my mortification about my little feet and actually had them measured so I would have a better idea of what could possibly fit and what absolutely would not. Now I know the awful truth, which I had kind of already suspected: I am a Size 4 US (which really is “Kids” since “Women’s” typically don’t come any smaller than a 5 here) and a Size 2 UK.

Obviously, I am not going to find sexy kitten heels. I did, however, manage to get five quite suitable pairs, all on sale, for under $70. Of course, now I am broke, but my feet thank me!

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I often wrestle with the vanity aspect of this site. Sometimes I can’t believe anyone would be interested in anything I have to say; other times I can totally relate to such a fascination because of the personal blogs that I enjoy too. Striking the balance between documenting and sharing my life versus marketing and advertising it has always been a precarious balancing act for me.

There’s also the matter of my personal life and deciding how much of it I want/need, to “protect” (for lack of a more apropos word). When things are good, it seems easy, yet < insert negative adjective here > to gloss over them. When things are bad, it is cathartic, yet excessively emo to spill it here.

I also have that sense of living life in a bubble. Meaning, I assume (in part because I’ve been doing this for so many years) that everyone already knows what’s going on in my life or what I’ve been doing lately and the redundancy of posting about it here irks me ever so slightly… like when I see the same info posted on someone’s blog, twitter, Facebook and in forums. I sometimes feel it’s too much; other times I feel it’s necessary because the web is such an infinite place.

Of course, all of this is just another indicator of one of my major flaws- I overanalyze. I would never have thought it possible to think too much; I believe that pop culture is numbed and dumbed. TMZ, Starbucks, McDonalds, The Bachelor… they all leave a sour taste in my mouth, but I still consume them. Why do I/should I feel such guilt for it? As different from everybody else as I am, I’m also still the same. Why? Intriguing parallel, really… to me, anyway.

Point being, I still have a lot to learn about integrating the writing I do for myself and the writing I do for the world at large. Or, maybe I am just restless and coming down with a case of Spring Fever?

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Ingredients:
1 can green beans
1 small can of tomato paste
[approximately] 1/2 cup water
2 tbsp olive oil
oregano (to taste)
garlic (to taste)
1 cinnamon stick

Directions:
In a bowl, mix your “sauce” of tomato paste, oregano, garlic and olive oil. Stir. Add some of the water to create a more “spreadable” consistency. Mix well. Taste. Adjust as needed. Stir until desired texture is reached. Put the rest of the water into a saucepan. Drain green beans and place them into saucepan. Poke cinnamon stick down into the middle. Cover beans evenly with “sauce.” Simmer for 1 hour, stirring occasionally. Find & remove cinnamon stick before serving.

Notes: Don’t be afraid to taste and adjust as you go. For example, I find a need a lot more oregano than what looks reasonable to the eye. If you feel the mixture is too acidic for your palate, you can tone it down with 1 tsp of sugar. You can substitute fresh beans for canned (but you will need more cooking time). You can add tomatoes if you like (but use less water if you do, because they will release quite a bit of moisture). You could add allspice too for a little extra exotic flavour (though if you do, I’d suggest no more than 1/4 tsp). Some folks even toss in some pine nuts for uber authenticity. These green beans are rich and go very well with a chicken or lamb entrée, but are also quite good on their own.

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Diagnosis: Gallstones. Treatment: Follow-up ultrasound in a week or two to determine whether I need my gallbladder removed via laparoscopic surgery. Cost: Astronomical for someone that is uninsured and lives paycheck to paycheck.

Although my blood pressure was kinda high (140/60) and my urine sample white cell count was high, my metabolic panel didn’t show anything unusual. Most importantly, liver function was normal, which means the gallstones aren’t blocking anything, so surgery may not be mandatory. I was running a fever of 100.4 though, which normally indicates an infection, however there was no visible evidence of infection/inflammation of my gallbladder (yet), so that’s a bit odd. They went ahead and gave me an antibiotic (Cipro) as a precaution and Lortab for pain. [Note: Surprisingly, Kroger beat out Walmart on the prescription prices by a little over a buck.] The doc suggested I try a liquid only diet if I can stand it, or at least low-fat until the pain gets better.

Today is my first day back to work. I’m feeling scared, relieved, angry, sore, tired and little bit sorry for myself. :P

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http://kraftcelebrationtour.tsn.ca/top20/1697#matchup

(Contest closes @ Noon EST on Friday, July 23rd, 2010.)

Thanks!

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