UPDATE

First of all, let me tell all of you who are worrying about the dagger that I have to stick into my stomach everyday. The 1/2 inch needle only goes in some of the fat I have stored around my middle and it doesn't hurt at all, although it does leave a bruise..because it is blood thinner you know.
Here is an interesting bit about the pills I am taking....they are called coumadin, but the other name is warfarin and it is the same stuff they feed rats to kill them. The rats eat that stuff and bleed to death. Hopefully, I won't. That is why I went to have my blood tested today. It is still not thin enough, so I am now going to take two of the rat poison pills for a couple of days, and three more shots. Then on Monday another blood level to see if we have thinned the blood enough. I found out today that the clot starts at the knee cap and extends down my left leg. UGG....My left left is 2 centimeters larger than the right...So now you have the facts Jack....but the facts are not the issue. The issue is my mortality, which is a little shakier than it was last week...Well, sorta....anyway here's some thoughts on letting go.
I don't care if the city fixes the pot holes: I worried myself sick for years wondering how Sydney and I would get through our old age financially. I hated the idea of getting a artificial knee. I wondered if the Mayans were right about 2012?
A lot of things don't matter to me anymore...because I can't fix them anymore and it is kinda nice not to be the fixer.....
So I say "be kind to everyone you meet because they are dying" But they don't believe they are dying so they will fix the potholes and handle the finances best they can and vote on matters that matter to them, until they find out none of it really matters.....Sound depressed? Not really, more disgusted with the resent turn of events...
Yesterday Sydney and I bought a dozen donuts and I ate six! Then for supper I had garlic bread and diet pot! Now that was a down day....At work tonight and the day is better.. Yesterday we had 9 inches of snow...I had been sad because I thought I might not see snow again and then in the morning it looked like God had taken his cake frosting gun to the trees and structures. Absolutely beautiful...now we are warming with a forcast of 70 degrees by Saturday and Sienna will be here with her own personal sunshine and Stephen is going to be in town and I have a lunch date on Sunday......

Jimmy

When Francis died after a long illness it seemed my role of mother also died. Although I had other children they had achieved the independence that is the goal of parenting under normal circumstances.

I had avoided thinking about the inevitable time when my "nest would be empty and because my mothering was needed by my adult child, I didn't need to face the turning point until I was past fifty.

With empty arms and a broken heart I waded through the grieving process. I prayed for a purpose in my life. I accepted a nursing position on a pediatric unit and soon found my arms full of babies and children who needed me. I began to feel alive again.
I was drawn to a little boy with severe birth defects. Although he was 18 months old he weighed on 11 pounds and because of his spastic movements he was not easy to cuddle. I developed a way of wrapping him tight with a blanket so could relax a little we spent time together rocking and filling each other needs.
During that time I woke one night from a dream about my son's death and while I wept quietly into my pillow a thought came to me about my little patient. The next day when I arrived at the hospital, I pulled his chart and my heart skipped a beat as I saw the date of birth. March 24, 1989, the day my son had died.
My little patient also died, but my next wasn't empty any more.

Like the broken sparrow I took home when I was child, I took little Jimmy into my heart with intent to mend, repair and return the world. I can still see those little buck teeth and his mouth that was shaped in an expression of mischievous intent. When he was tickled about something he crooned and bobbed his head in a special way that always got him the attention he was looking for. He was so keenly aware of his environment that he could identify individuals entering his room on tip toe.
When the sparrow died, I stopped investing myself in matters of life that no future. Many sparrows passed through my life before I stopped turning my heart in the other direction. Jimmy, with his little broken body and special smile was one of many people who have given me the courage to take others into that special place of caring and compassion that differentiates nursing from other relationships. This nurse will always remember the Brown eyed child with the Howdy Doody grin that captured the heart of the pediatric department.

Another way out

Boy just when you think you might have things figured out, you find you don't. All this thinking about if you know you have a terminal illness versus getting hit by a train.

Well the train didn't get me, and neither did the blood clot.

This weekend I had a pain in the calf of my leg and I suspected, being a nurse you know, that I might have a blood clot but, hey, whats the chances. Well this AM I noticed maybe the left leg seemed a little bigger...so I mentioned it to the radiologist who ordered an ultra sound.

Yup, big Deep Vein Thrombosis, DVT, the kind that killed my step son Daniel... The thing with those clots is that they move to the lung and then into heart.

So today I had the first of what will be daily injections of blood thinner in my BELLY! For the rest of my life they tell me. I will do my own injections so I will be able to travel.

So.....I went to bed worrying about dying from brain tumor,etc., etc., and I could have never had to go through cancer....I could have died in bed. But I didn't so I guess its a lot like the train.....why the hell worry about how it is going to happen, just know that it will someday, someway, and get on with the daily stuff.

Incidentally, the DVT had absolutely nothing to do with the Cancer.

I have 6 more brain treatments and 16 more lung treatments....then a full body scan and if no spread anywhere, I will not do chemo at this time.

SHITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT! I'm am very tired. My boss at the school asked me to work 10 hours this week. I said I would, but I may not....I've had some pissed off, anger type stuff boiling beneath the surface, but then I meet people and I think, "hell, everybody is just trying to survive"

I watched the LIFE show that Oprah is narrating, about insects, bugs, animals, mammals etc. How can anyone doubt a creator? What I doubt is that he needs my constant adoration or that he has much use for me after I leave here. But I could be wrong.....Church called tonight to see if I would join a group of writers, putting out things for the church. I turned them down.....Maybe computers in Heaven?

Amanda times two

Well the first post was a screw up.
Amanda was a baby who was born with too many defects to survive, but she lived on the pediatric unit where I worked in 1990. We all fell in love with her.

I wrote this poem after she died, it was published and won an award, but I just like the way she went to heaven in my poem.

I hope you enjoy it.

Amanda ............bye, bye

Its quiet now....no beeping, no whirring, no mechanical bellows...
The struggle is done.
No arching and twisting to get the O2s...
The tethers are gone...
No strings to attach..
And the many mothers of Amanda scream silently......"NO!"

A gossamer substance seeps into the sterile corners and nooks...
The fat little cherub of valentine cards blends with the mist...
Lace filigree air fills the void...
Vapors of life rise,
And the many mothers of Amanda scream silently......."NO!"

Atoms and molecules take shape in the clouds.
A mother goose bird with a puggy young rider emerges.
The fat little fingers cling tight to the down,
And the many mothers of Amanda scream silently ......"NO!"

The frown on her forehead is wiped off by the breeze...
The rosebud mouth breaks into a smile that puffs out her cheeks,
Eyes twinkle.....as feathers and skin become one.....
And the many mothers of Amanda whisper silently..........."NO"

The wiggling toes turn up in delight and giggle sneaks out,
Now two, now some more....
She throws back her head and squeals with delight as
they circle the stars and drink milk from the "way".
And the many mothers of Amanda say quietly........"go"

The infant turns slowly....looks back at the earth,
She sits up on her own now,
no straps to restrain,
With straight wrists, like all babies, ...she waves...bye, bye
And the many mothers of Amanda say quietly.............."OH NO"

The bird prepares for descent....
The babe leans back...feet facing up front...face turned up to the sky,
and the maiden flight of her spirit begins......

And the many mothers of Amanda silently say............OH.

Amanda

I dreamed a strange, frightening dream of danger and resignation. I was on an island of sorts, rather a resort or vacation type with several other people. The only person I could identify was Pascha. A great fear came over the island and I urged Pascha to run. Then evil (people?) began landing on the shores and we retreated to the house and closed the shutters. I seemed to know it was fruitless to hide because our capture was ineveitable, but I retreated further into a room and began frantically trying to fit myself into cupboards and drawers. I found an old rug and scrunched down in a corner behind a rocker, but I knew "they" would "know" I was there. I also knew I would never see Pascah again but that he was swift and clever and was safe somewhere.
I heard voices in the house. The enemy was just outside the door. Then I felt a kind of peaceful resignation. I carefully arranged all the rugs on the floor, sat down in the rocker, straightened my hair and my clothes and drew myself into a dignified pose and mood. I waited, knowing it be a peaceful encounter without violence.
The door opened and a woman said; "Frauline Carol?"
"yes," I replied.

She said; "It is time."

This dream was recorded in a journal I wrote in on June 7, 1989.


More stuff like this coming.

Cleaning out the file cabinet

Here is a thing I wrote about twenty years ago: Your interpretation of it is the right one: No matter what..

The compassionates

As though entities, the memories are clutched close.
Like talismen,they are drug along the paths that are trudged.
Occasionally, briefly, ... sat aside...while intentions are renewed.
They are burdens, quickly scooped up if approached too closely.

Social identities lost with the death set adrift and
attachments diminish reluctantly as recognition decreases.
Grief, carried deep in the heartland, decomposes the image
and unwilling detachment occurs.....till

the unrecognizable pain is abandoned.


MORE TO COME AS I GO THROUGH OLD JOURNALS ETC.,