14 posts tagged “mom”

Thank you guys for all your thoughts and prayers.

Thankfully, we received encouraging news.  Though one of Grandma's arteries was 99% blocked, the rest of her heart is remarkably strong, especially given all her medical issues.  She'll stay in the hospital for a few days but her prognosis is good beyond that.  She has been through such an array of medical complications this past year and a half.  Her doctors are quite amazed that she's not only survived everything thrown at her lately, but soldiered through with such grace and wit.  That's just how we roll in our family I guess :)

And I also owe you guys an update regarding Mom's hearing.  Short story is that we still don't know anything.  It was a very trying, humiliating, and exhausting experience for her.  Basically the lawyer grilled her for nearly 45 minutes and watching her struggle to find words, to speak, to be heard... it was heartbreaking.  But Linz and I got to speak on her behalf as well, and I feel like in a combination of the three of us, we told her story.  The judge will be deciding in 2 weeks and we should know in about 10 weeks.

Meanwhile... my benediction for tomorrow.  I was scheduled to read it at the 9am tomorrow, but will miss it because the girls seem to have a stomach bug (and I think I'm getting it too).  Regardless, someone will read it and I hope the right hearts hear it.  It's been in mine for awhile, though I didn't know quite how to get it out.

 

Psalm 143
 
"O Lord, hear my prayer, listen to my cry for mercy. 
In your faithfulness and righteousness come to my relief."
 
In the darkest of times, my prayers are the most simple.  Usually all I can muster is a simple "please" repeated incessantly aloud and in my head.  A syncopated supplication broken only to take a breath and to interject our Lord's name.  Though the syntax is simple, the petition is not.  I cry not just for relief, but for knowledge, acceptance, guidance, wisdom, peace. 
 
Please says "I don't know how to handle this alone."
Please says "I'm not ready for this loss."
Please says "This is not my plan but yours."
Please says "I know, Lord.  I know."
 
"Teach me to do your will for you are my God.
May your good Spirit lead me on level ground."

...please say a little prayer for my mom this morning.  We have her judicial hearing for her disability case today and we're all a wreck.  It's hard for her to stand in front of a court and admit out loud that her aneurysm left her disabled, but it's the truth and she needs help.  Pray that the judge has the wisdom to see that and that we have the strength to support our mom. 

Besides yours, who do you think deserves "The Best Mother in the World" award?
Submitted by Connie.

All these moms and more.... basically every mother who takes part in the sacred duty that is motherhood.  We are all guilty of mistakes; we are all imperfect; we have all lost our patience; we sometimes wish we could rewind and do things over.  But we are also all the proud co-creators of these miraculous little beings.  We love them fiercely and without question.  Our children are our hearts walking around outside our bodies.  Our children are us in being, spirit, and personality... the good and the bad.  And every single one of us is the best mom in the world.  Just ask our kids....

Yes, we were lucky enough to get tickets to Hannah Montana at the Houston Rodeo.  They held a drawing for "real people" to be able to buy tickets.  I entered 4 email addresses in the drawing, and one of them won.  So we were the lucky purchasers of 4 tickets to the show.  And truly I didn't care where the seats were, but geeze louise they were actually literally the very last row in Reliant Stadium.  We had suffered some oxygen deprivation from the altitude, but the girls had fun regardless....

 

On our way to the show.  (Note the pimp new minivan recently lamented in Ron's blog)

The show marquee and the actual tickets.  (Note: One can not be bored in traffic when armed with a Nikon D-SLR. Stuck at a stoplight?  Take pics of random crap!  Like concert tickets!)

Allie trying to look irritated that I'm taking her picture (Note the eye makeup I let her wear special for the occassion.  I thought I overdid it, but once we got there and saw 3 year olds in false eyelashes and feather boas, well I felt much better about the thin line of eyeliner I allowed.)

Allie being reminded that I still hold the tickets in my little hand so she's got to pretend to like me at least until we get to our seats.  (Note that Allie has honed her sullen teenager act to an artform, but I'm breaking her of it surely.  I've got 8 years before she's a teenager and I'm not going to spend those years practicing)

 

Avery in front of her very first tour bus.  (Note that Allie was too scared to pose in front of the bus because everyone would be looking at her.  Yes, she is indeed my clone.)

 

The sherpa allowed us a break en route to our seats.  The girls could contain their excitement no longer.  (Note the peanut on the ground next to Avery.  And where did we leave the epipen?  In my purse.  In the van.  In the parking lot 5 miles away....)

 

73thousand some odd people as seen from the vantage point of our seats. (Note that I'm not hyperventilating although they are all surely staring at me and judging me from afar.  No, I'm not on my meds thanks for asking.)

 

Veal acquisition.  (Note that it's actually called the 'calf scramble'.  Whatevs.  They still chase a baby cow and are mean to it so they can take it home.  Poor veal. :( 

 

Blurry children.  That can only mean one thing.  (Note Allie's carefully studied ennui.  It's an artform....)

 

Hannah Montana.  AND Miley Cyrus.  AND Billy Ray Cyrus.  3-for-1.  (Note.  No really.  Billy Ray sang "Achey Breaky Heart".  It was cute.)

 

 

You might say that Avery enjoyed herself.  You might also say that she invoked the superhero Flash and acquired the ability to move all her molecules so fast that other solid matter passed through them.  (Note:  This photo is the closest she ever got to standing still.) 

 

 

Allie singing with Gaga.  (Note that while Gaga knew the words to this one, she wasn't sobbing while singing them.  That would be the sappy ass photographer blubbering through "Just Like You" even though she's not remotely near to PMS'ing.)

 

Best of all?  Mommy could still get artsy fartsy when the girls weren't looking.  (Note that these are straight out of camera so there is much manipulation fun yet to be had...)

 

Allie lost her cool facade long enough for the camera to capture it.  The quality is not the best, but the emotion is.  (Note that I am tearing up again.  When did I get to be such a sap?)

 

 

The girls were even grateful enough to take a picture with me!  They hate to take pictures with me!  (Note, Avery might not be visible to the naked eye in this picture.  See above note for molecular structure explanation...)

 

And that's not the end of the fun!  The next night, we got to go to the rodeo again and see Sugarland.  This time though we had third row seats.  Like we could reach out and touch manure and hear the cowboys cuss.  Plus we got to meet Sugarland before hand, which the girls are still talking about.  But me?  I've got to get some sleep tonight.  Sugarland pics tomorrow, if the boss lets me.... ;)

Mom had her aneursym rupture on March 14, 2006.  By the time she got out of surgery the next day was an hour old, but I was at least 5 years older.  The doctor let us see her; she was still hooked to the ventilator and approximately a dozen other tubes, wires, and monitors.  Linz and I kissed her right hand, which seemed to be the only part of her that still looked like her.  French manicured and delicate as always.  We even joked that she would be so thankful that she'd just had a manicure and pedicure done.  We gave the nurse our cell numbers and hotel info and went back to catch some sleep. 

I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep so I found the business center and got online.  I emailed some friends, denied my instinctual urge to Google any medical texts, and checked the credentials of her neurosurgeon.  Because you know if he was disreputable, I could rewind the past 6 hours and have someone else do the surgery.  He proved to be quite capable from the bio I found so I allowed myself to go to bed.  I didn't even change out of my clothes - just took off my shoes and crawled into bed, clutching my cell phone to my chest.

I fell asleep quickly but not deeply.  I woke up every hour in a panic, searching for my phone.  I was afraid I had dropped it and would miss the phone call, but each time I found it still in my right hand.  Soon after locating it, I realized it was silent and showed no missed calls.  She was still alive.  This was tangible evidence that she was still alive. 

As the early morning progressed to later morning and I continued my attempt to sleep, I began what would become my standard prayer:  "Thank you for these past X hours.  Please give us X more."  Where X equals the number of hours since her surgery.  It worked and by the time I officially woke up at 10am on March 15, 2006 my mom was alive.  It was the first good thing to happen in 24 hours.  I was able to step into the sun out of the cold. It wasn't enough light to keep warm by yet, but the light was there. 

It's been almost 2 years now.  My prayer hasn't changed much.  I'm grateful for the time we've had since then,  but am anxious for a guarantee on the future.  These have been the hardest 2 years in my mom's life.  Though each day is a blessing, it is also a struggle.  She struggles to find words, to find a reason, to find a purpose.  She doesn't struggle to find joy, or gratitude, or rest.  But the search for the former can often overshadow the ready availability of the latter. 

I worry I traded her quality for my quantity.  I know she would have been happy to conclude her life that beautiful March day.  It was a well-lived life and her eternity is one she's anxious to experience.  But I wasn't ready.  I wanted her here with me and would pray for nothing else.  I tried to pray for God's will to be done, whatever it might be, but He knew my heart and knew that my true prayer was that I still needed my mom.

I finally got over that prayer this weekend.  I finally, honestly, truly prayed for my mom to be happy.  Whether that happiness is found here or in heaven doesn't matter to me anymore.  Of course I still want and need her here.  I want her to be at my wedding, to see the girls grow up, to be there for me when I need to talk or cry or drive around.  I still want to make her laugh, hear her advice, make her proud.  But above all else, I want her happiness and her peace.  She's spent 30 years making every sacrifice to ensure my and my sister's happiness.  All I want is to be able to make those same sacrifices now to ensure her's.  I don't pray for my peace or happiness anymore.  Now I pray for her's.

In typical OCDWPT style (That's Obsessive Compulsive Disorder with Procrastinatory Tendencies.  Look for it in the DSM-IV in the Spring of 2009!), I planned the girls Christmas dresses, curled and style their hair, and generally just spent so long on getting them camera ready, that I lost any good available lighting and therefor had no Christmas pictures this year.  And on Christmas Eve (when we do our familiy get-together) I almost completely forgot to take pictures.  So I figured that I would not have any decent photographic representations of this, the happiest Christmas ever.

However.  Take 30mg Adderrall, add 44 oz of diet Coke, 2 Marlboro Ultra Lights and then sit in front of Photoshop CS3 for a few hours, and some of the pictures become quite passable....

 

Deceptively cute, aren't they?

 

 

The manic glee of Christmas which sets Avery in constant motion...

 

The pre-teen dramatic Christmas spirit of "Mom, I'm so over this photography crap. Can you get that thing out of my face now?"  (Does age 5 count as pre-teen?  'Cause the attitude sure as heck fits...)

 

 

We love our Mommy because she gives us presents!

 

We love our Gaga because she gives us cookies!!

 

 

My sister and her adorable family.  My nephew Cayden (age very very 2) was even nice enough to stop his head spinning around 360 degrees long enough for this picture.  It was a Christmas Miracle!

 

 

And the lovely Ron.  Dear, sweet, loveable Ron.  His superpower?  Complete inability to keep his eyes open for a picture.  For any picture.  Flash, no flash, posed, candid, anything.  He blinks.  I'm working on an animated GIF for those who don't beleive me.  It's adorable.  Most of the time.

 

And what's the most Christmasy shirt he could possibly ever wear?  Why, the Buddha shirt of course!  (We like it for the style, not for the religion, so you need not have an aneurysm Grandma.  I promise we're at church almost every Sunday...)  It's still fun to antagonize my mom though :)  And yes, even when he's not facing the camera, the eyes are still closed.

 

Hope all of you had a really fabulous holiday of your choice.  I miss you guys oodles and hope to be back in the swing of things by New Year.

I've been thinking about my mom and her brain a lot lately.  Pull up the aneurysm tag and you'll stumble across most of the story if you don't know it.  We're working on getting her in with some neuropsych people to prod her recovery just a bit.  She's doing so well and I'm so proud of her.  I love her so much and have been missing her lately.  I stumbled across this tonight.  I wrote it a few months ago.  It's the beginning of something, I just don't know what.....

 

 

There are defining moments in life which serve as clear markers, delineating one part of one’s life from another.  Some of these are apparent and expected:  Before graduation, after graduation.  Before marriage, after marriage.  Before kids, after kids.  Some are unplanned, but normal and preparation is possible:  Before divorce, after divorce.  Before one career.  After another.  Sometimes they might come along without your knowledge, and only in retrospect do you realize their significance.  Before meeting someone.  After that person is in your life.  But some are so completely and wholly unexpected, that you cannot possibly plan for them, nor can you hope to regain any sense of before in the after. 

 

I have a before kids, after kids.  I have a before divorce, after divorce. Now, the most defining mile marker in my life is before aneurysm, after aneurysm.  And it wasn’t even in my brain.  One sunny day in March, the world was spinning as it always did and my dramas were small and petty on the grand scale.  The next, sunnier morning, a 15mm portion along the internal carotid artery in my mom’s brain decided it was really worn out from keeping all that blood in one place.  It put it’s feet on it’s desk, clocked out, and quit doing it’s job unleashing a torrent of trauma into Mom’s subarachnoid space, and into all of our lives.

 

She didn’t believe us at first.  When we said aneurysm, she rewarded us with a furrowed brow and a confused tilt of her head.  When she finally regained cognizance about a month after the rupture, she found herself weak, drugged, and unable to speak.  All she knew was she couldn’t talk, couldn’t remember, couldn’t comprehend what had happened.  Surely we were exaggerating.  Surely she had just had a migraine yesterday and now we were trying to scare her.  Surely she was just a little wiped out from the meds they’d given her and everything would be back to normal by next week. 

 

I don’t know what she thought because she couldn’t tell us.  That lazy artery wall had leaked blood all over the part of her brain that controls speech.  I could see the questions in there, the words bouncing around in her brain.  Everything multiplying exponentially and crowding up in that space.  The pressure of their isolation showed in her eyes.  She’d spent nearly 50 years being the most outspoken and eloquent person and now….now…. Her tools, her weapons, her thoughts, her loves, her words wouldn’t come.  They stayed in her head.  Reluctant to leave her mouth and be seen in the light.  Stubbornly denying her her voice.  The brain which had served her so well, which she prized, by which she defined herself and attained every goal to which she aspired… it was now her enemy.  After aneurysm.

 

It could have been worse.  We tried to explain how lucky she was.  How those initial phone calls from the doctors in Louisiana held no hope, only grim statistics and admonishment to drive the 300 miles as fast as safely possible.  How we were preparing to say good-bye at worst, and preparing to care for her in a vegetative state at best.  I did what I do best and googled.  I found stories with worse outcomes; it wasn’t hard.  Mention an aneurysm to someone and the stories told back to you are those of a relative who died.  Always unexpected and always tragic.  Maybe 1 in 10 will be a shared story of survival.  I printed medical texts that detail in black and white those same grim statistics hammered into my brain by the doctors.  50% die before reaching the hospital.  Of those who make it to the hospital 30% die within 48 hours.  Of those who survive that long, the next 30% die within a month.  Those lucky percentages left either die within the next year, or survive with significant deficit. 

 

She beat all the odds.  She survived the surgery.  She ruptured fully while on the operating table.  Had they waited even 10 minutes to operate, she would likely have died.  She survived post-operative complications, never having a stroke from vasospasms.  She didn’t get pneumonia.  She wasn’t paralyzed.  She walked within 2 weeks.  She could see and hear and taste and swallow.  Mom!  You can swallow!  Isn’t that awesome news!  Her confused and frustrated expression was answer enough for that ridiculous question. 

 

Before aneurysm: Project Controls Analyst working on a multi-million dollar project for a major energy company.  Avid reader.  Accomplished scholar, gifted musician, loyal friend, and doting grandmother.  Active, articulate, intelligent, beautiful and amazing woman, who taught, guided, supported, and inspired.  After aneurysm:  You can walk!  And eat!  And breathe!  All by yourself!  Aren’t you proud?  Aren’t you fulfilled?  We know your before aneurysm self is still in there.  We see it waking up, flitting about, screaming to get out and straining against its new bonds.  We hear it in our own minds and know it will be strong one day.  But for now it tires easily.  Go rest and gather strength.  It will come back.

 

The words began to find their way out.  Furry and vaguely malformed, but coming to the party finally.  The cloud of confusion gradually lifted.  The puzzled look was permanently affixed for a few weeks.  We had to retell the story a few times and learned to limit the length and detail.  After awhile, we didn’t have to tell her.  She knew she had crossed a line and was in the after of something. 

 

I wonder what it's like for people to live life on an even keel.  No dramatic ups to match the downs.  Just level; everything the same.  It's probably really boring and I'd whine about it if I had to live it.  So I'll take my dramatic life and stick with it.

The ups: 

Allie loves kindergarten. Her teacher is fantastic and she's really thriving.  She's had a couple of tearful days, but they are largely in the minority.  I was worried that my anxiety and sensitivity would manifest completely in her and make her school days miserable.  But she's not quite as neurotic as I am.  Yet.

Avery is an absolute angel.  When she is on her own, with no other kids to run her over, boss her around, or interrupt her, she is like pure sunshine, with a dash of LOLCAT, a liberal coating of cotton candy, and sprinkled with fairy dust.  Literally, she will happily color pictures or read books, only taking a break to give hugs and kisses or ask nicely for some food.  I forget how different they are on their own and it's such a blessing to share these quiet times with her.

Mom is going back to work.  She met another aneurysm survivor while in Colorado visiting my grandmother in the hospital.  She was my grandma's nurse, and had a huge aneurysm rupture 12 years ago.  She was pregnant at the time, and lost the baby, lost her speech, lost her life.  She gradually relearned how to get her life back and went back to school for her BSN and is now one of the most respected nurses at this particular hospital.  She and mom are now BFF and it's really given mom a lot of hope for her future.  She starts back part-time at her old job on Monday and couldn't be more excited.

I've met someone who is completely unlike anyone I've ever met before.  Open and honest, smart and funny, and he likes me back.  That's the weirdest thing.  I keep sticking my foot in my mouth and he keeps laughing and wanting to talk to me more.  Lunch dates turn into 3 hour conversations in which we fidget manically creating napkin origami and juggling apples in a desperate attempt to appear nonchalant.  But we're able to openly mock ourselves so this is good.  It's refreshing - if a bit disconcerting - to like someone who likes me back.  Yeah, I sound like I'm in the 8th grade.  I'm okay with that.  Oh and he reads this site too, so I'm going to blush furiously now.  Hi there! 

The downs:

I'm still pretty raw from having a falling out with a large number of my "friends" in an online community I've been with for 6 years.  It's funny when I'm accused of hypocrisy.  Funny because in reality, I'm the person who stands up and says what everyone is thinking.  I'm the one who says publicly what everyone else whispers and gossips.  I stick up for myself and that?  That is bad.  I've done a lot of reflection on my role in this recent debacle and I know I'm not blameless.  When someone accused me of something, I should not have lashed out verbally.  That was a little bit reactionary and classless.  But dammit, it felt good at the time and I don't regret it.  I also don't regret ending certain friendships with toxic people.  If people are making bad choices that affect their lives, that's their prerogative.  But when they start destroying other people's lives and affecting everyone around them, well I just can't condone that. 

This is all old news.  What I've really opened my eyes to, and what has caused me the most pain is this: why am I standing up for people who won't stand up for me?  Sure, all those people come to me privately to encourage me and tell me how right I am and how I'm their hero.  They'll come to me to gossip and badmouth and try to get dirt.  So what's to say they're not doing the same thing behind my back?  Hardly anyone even bothered to try and defend me, so why should I care about losing them?  Why should I share myself with them if they think I'm a hypocrite, or a child abuser, or a liar who only wants attention?  Why should I mourn the loss of people who clearly have no idea who I am? 

People really show who they are by their actions more than their words.  I value words very highly and rely on them a great deal to show who I am, but I also have the actions to back it up.  Maybe it's just time for that chapter in my life to end.  Online communities are *SO* 2001 anyway, right?  I should chalk it up to lesson learned and go on my new path to my new life and new friendships.  There isn't really any justice, and stamping my feet in protest is getting me nowhere.  Maybe I should just "get over it" but it takes me a little longer to process things, to turn over every angle in my head, and make sure there's no speck of dust left unexamined.

My ob/gyn just referred me to a neurologist.  I'm having issues similar to the ones I was having in February so I went back to the doctor.  I'm googled and Mercked my symptoms to death and am pretty sure I know my diagnosis (because I'm a doctor you know) but instead of going the diagnostic route I want, we're going around the back way and examining my pituitary gland.  Whatever I have is almost certainly benign and harmless, but I'd much rather have something foreign (if benign and harmless) in my breast than in my brain.  I'll lop off ol' lefty without a second thought if doing so would insure my health.  Not so easy to do that with my brain.  Although...  Whichever one it is, I won't know for a month or so.  Glorious wait time.  Love it.

Mom is going back to work.  I know it's an up for her and I truly am happy about it.  However, there goes my free childcare, so now I have to jump through hoops to get the ex to help out with school expenses.  I hate jumping through hoops.  It's exhausting.  And while I'm kind of excited for Avery to get back into preschool, I really don't want to get Allie in an afterschool program.  It's like $120 a week for just 2 hours a day after school.  I'm going to see if I can move my hours around so that I go in earlier.  I think before school care is cheaper than after, and her bus runs so late in the afternoon, that it wouldn't be hard for me to adjust my hours enough to pick her up at the bus stop everyday.  So far they're being really flexible with all the doctor's appointments and stuff.  I hope they continue to be flexible.  And honestly, why does anyone ever hire single moms?  We're not worth a damn sometimes, I swear....

 

My cousin was just admitted to the hospital.  Technically, he is my cousin, but at age 10, he feels more like my nephew.  My aunt adopted Jacob when he was 3 years old.  He suffered from fetal alcohol syndrome and has had some sensory integration issues, as well as some emotional problems.  He is one of the sweetest little boys I've ever known and Allie just idolized him when we visited in April.  Apparently he had a pretty severe bipolar episode and threatened his dad with a pair of scissors, so he's been admitted to an inpatient facility.  We don't know what the possible course of treatment will be yet, but I'm praying that it's something that gives us back our sweet little boy, without robbing him of too much of what makes him him. That's a page I did of him and Allie there on the left.  They're BFF. 

 

 

 

Anyway, that's sort of where I am.  Aren't you glad you asked?  Oh wait, you didn't...  Regardless, it's enough to keep me about level.  The ex has the girls this weekend for the first weekend EVER.  I know I sound heartless, but having a whole weekend to myself without my adorable girls sounds like pure heaven.  I'm going to clean my house, hang up pictures, take some photos, and go have sushi so I can fidget with my chopsticks.  Really, I'll probably stock up on Twizzlers and diet Coke, stay in bed, and finish reading "His Dark Materials", but we can all pretend I'll be productive.  At least the sushi part is true.

Oh!  Almost forgot!  I have a lovely sinus infection right now that is rendering all productive thought pretty much impossible.  That I got all this out is miraculous.  As soon as I post this, I'm going to go back to staring blankly at my laptop trying to work out what I need to do next....

When I went to visit my family in Colorado this past month, my uncle pointed out a herd of cows on the land next to theirs.  They are some sort of Scottish Highland breed and are as cute as cows can be.  They're small, with out of control curly hair and disproportionate horns.  If they were people, they would be 8th year philosophy seniors at UT, playing hackey sack in the grassy knoll.  Cool laid back cows.  That day, they were grazing right next to the barbed wire fence that ran parallel to the road, but went into hiding soon after that, and I never saw them at a photographable distance over the next two days.

That Sunday, after church and a leisurely lunch of roast and potatoes, Mom got a blind spot.  This was quickly followed by an almost complete loss of speech and pronounced weakness on her left side.  She was crying, as she struggled to find the words to tell us what she was feeling, and her tears, rarely seen since the aneurysm ruptured a year ago, were scarier than any of the other symptoms.  I asked my aunt where the nearest hospital was, while trying to round up the girls and ensure the weren't scared, and while also quietly letting everyone know what was going on.  I wanted to impart  urgency, but not panic. 

Grandma went into triage mode and was taking Mom's blood pressure, checking her pupils, and asking her to squeeze her hands.  The look in Mom's eyes was a familiar one.  She's in there in her traitor brain, unable to get out.  She knows what's happening and what she thinks and the perfect way to articulate it, but her brain traps her.  I knew that look the first time I saw it, and though it seems a bad thing, in fact I like the assurance of knowing my mom is still intact, whether or not she can get out.  This time there was fear in her eyes too though, and when she asked to see Lindsay (only able to articulate the word "Allie") her demeanor was that of someone saying good-bye.  In a later conversation, Linz and I realized with both thought that Mom was saying goodbye to Linz and her unborn child.

All the adults were standing around Mom doing nothing.  I was asking Mom if she wanted to go the hospital.  The kids were oblivious and playing amongst the gaggle of cousins.  It was finally the littlest voice that wandered in the room with the most common sense:  "What's wrong, Mommy?" asked Avery.

"Your Gaga isn't feeling very well."

She looked up at me with an almost impatient and incredulous look and said "Well, then call the ambulance."

"Great idea," I said and picked up the phone immediately.  I let the operator know we suspected a stroke and needed an ambulance.  She stayed on the line with me, speaking calmly, asking for updates on Mom's condition, and assuring me that help was on the way.  Linz was on the phone on the other line trying to reschedule her return flight which was to leave for Houston in 2 hours.  Accompanying the siren were three burly but compassionate men who swiftly loaded Mom onto the stretcher and into the ambulance, and comforted Linz as she started crying when told she couldn't come in the ambulance.  I was already situated in the front seat and there was only one passenger allowed.  Had I known her distress, I would have traded spots with her, but it was probably for the best.  We learned last year that we seem to alternate who copes and who breaks down, and this was my day to cope.

The ambulance left with the sirens singing and the paramedics in the back periodically asked me questions about Mom's medical history.  I knew so much, so accurately, that the driver thought I worked in medicine.  I told him that I wasn't a doctor, but I talked like one.  I liked the driver a lot because he had an elaborate mustache that reminded me of all my good ol' boy coworkers here in the Houston oil and gas industry.  He busied himself with the CB radio, and the myriad switches that changed the pitch and rhythm of the siren.  He warned the EMT's in the back when going over a rough patch of road, and they in turn informed him of when they were poking Mom with sharp objects. 

When I looked in the back, all I could see was the back of her head. I wondered if they would tell me if she died on the way to the hospital, or it they'd wait until we arrived.  I wondered if she was hooked to anything that would beep to alert me of her death.  I wondered how I would get her body back to Houston for burial, or if we should just bury her in Colorado.  She always did like the scenery.  And at least this time her hair looked better than last time I was planning her funeral.  That time she had a shaved head to make room for the shunt relieving her intracranial pressure.  This time, she was freshly styled and highlighted and would make for a much more attractive corpse.  I began to worry about how much a funeral would cost, and how I would work without anyone to watch the kids.  I cried a minimal amount, because I knew it was my turn to be strong, and that if I started crying I wouldn't be able to stop.  I repeated my standard prayer of maternal neurological trauma which consists only of the word "Please" repeated over and over, with "God" thrown in there now and then to make sure He knows to whom I'm talking.

We rounded the corner and crested a hill.  Against the violently blue sky, standing in a very well lit section of field, were the elusive hippy cows.  They munched on grass, mingled in groups, and all manner of other photogenic things as if mocking me.  In the space of about .05 seconds I cycled through wanting to take a picture, kicking myself for leaving my camera at the house, and realizing that chances were slim that the driver would have stopped for me to snap a shot anyway.  What with us rushing to the nearest level 1 trauma center and all.

Soon after, I quit worrying.  I quit running down morbid scenarios, planning a eulogy, and mentally scanning my closet for funeral dresses.  I caught sight of the clear snowy Rockies not too distant and became peaceful.  A soothing wave ran through my chest and relaxed my tense, fretful heart.  I knew things would be okay.  We were headed to a renowned stroke/neuro hospital, it was a Sunday afternoon with little traffic, and soon enough a doctor would find out what was rupturing or clotting or misfiring and she would be fine.  I had no solid basis for this belief other than it came over me suddenly and certainly and I knew not to doubt it. 

Mom was in the hospital for 3 days, but her health is fine now, and I'm accompanying her to her neurosurgeon next week to get a final determination on if she's having transient ischemic attacks, or post traumatic epileptic seizures.  I'm rooting for seizures, as they don't affect life span nearly as much and then we can share meds and she'll know I'm not faking the dizziness and the uneven pupils caused by my Keppra.  My schadenfreude is definitely showing as she complains of the side effects I've been experiencing for years, but I know once she adjusts to the dosage, she'll be much better, if she is in fact having seizures.

This past week has been incredibly stressful.  Mom's health is not at the forefront of my worries, but the rest of my life is crumbling in places and I feel like every time I fix one area, another has rotted away and needs my attention.  At one point this week I was really low.  Not quite suicidal ideation low, but definitely contemplating not ever leaving the house again, living in candlelight and eating raw potatoes because making any effort beyond that was futile.  I was stressed and scared and unsure of how best to handle the new and exciting obstacles thrown in my path,  But just as in that ambulance, I was overcome with peace.  It's not the la-la-la-la buzz of a pseudo-peace brought about by denial, but a distinctively comforting and optimistic peace.  Again, I have absolutely no reason to be so calm and reassured with all that is going on around me.  I should be climbing the walls or hiding under the bed or at least covering my ears and making the la-la-la-la buzz of denial, but instead I'm so peaceful and optimistic, that I'm about to annoy myself.  And I haven't even seen a hippy cow, which marked my last "peace attack" but just in case, here it is.  My karmic animal, or something like that. 

I know, I know.  I'm supposed to be cheerful and grateful and happy.  No one likes a whiner.  But where is that line?  Is it wrong to worry or vent about problems or should I just keep them to myself?  Is bottling things up and pretending all is well in the least bit helpful?

How things stand:

Mom was denied disability.  She survived a grade 5 anuerysmal subarachnoid hemorrhage, lost a great deal of speech ability, short term memory, strength on her right side.  She needs a nap everyday or her speech gets even worse, can't remember what happened yesterday, and needs to use both hands to open a can of coke, but no.... that's not disabled.  Her "husband" refuses to help her out.  He won't pay her car note, give her gas money, or provide anything more than a place to live.  He's hidden her jewelry from her for fear that she might pawn it.  Because, you know, she shouldn't pawn jewelry to pay a car note.  My grandmother will pay it.  Because she's just rolling in the money as a retired missionary. 

I tried to keep up with her car note last year.  I tried to keep up with everything after her brain aneurysm exploded last year.  What happened?  I couldn't pay for the girls day care.  Full-time daycare for a 3 and 4 year old costs $1400 a month.  I make too much to qualify for assistance.  I couldn't pay for my own insurance or car.  My car was repossessed.  I couldn't send the girls to school anymore and my sister had to keep them for awhile.  I couldn't keep the house we were living in and had to move to an apartment.  It's depressing and embarrassing, but there you have it.  I wasn't getting ANY money for child support at the time and trying to do it all myself.  The stress was so bad that my seizure disorder flared up again and I had to get back on medication for the first time in 6 years.

Things gradually got on track.  Mom watched the girls for me.  The ex started to pay child support a few months ago.  I've been planning on moving to house this summer that would be big enough for Mom to live with us.  I stupidly thought that she would be getting approved for disability, given that every doctor she has seen is amazed that she is even alive.  The survival rate for her condition is only 10%.  She is a miracle and is progressing really well. 

With the money I was getting in child support, I put the girls in a part-time preschool.  They need the social interaction and are just so hungry to learn.  They're smart little girls and I want to be able to harness that love for learning while their young.  The school wasn't the best of places, but they made friends and Allie was learning to write again.  I hate that she's not reading by now.  If she'd been able to stay in school, she'd be reading by now.  I'm so terrified that all of this upheaval and instability is going to scar them somehow.  I'm trying my best to keep things calm and scheduled for them, but I don't have that luxury all the time.

Yesterday, I had to pick the girls up from school.  Mom wasn't feeling well enough to watch them.  Their pre-school is being bought out by a larger chain called KinderCare.  I had to take them out of a KinderCare after Mom's aneurysm because I couldn't afford it anymore.  They wanted me to pay for the 2 weeks the girls didn't attend school.  The 2 weeks that I was in Louisiana wondering if my mom was going to die.  The 2 weeks in which I didn't get paid.  So, when I walk in the building yesterday, who should appear but the director of their old school.  She politely says hi, good to see  you, I didn't know you were here.  Then I hear someone whispering to her "do you want to talk to her?" as I walk down the hall to retrieve the girls.  On the way out, she informs me that I need to pay off my balance from last year if I want the girls to keep going there.

Which, OK, I didn't like that school all that much to begin with and was going to look for something else.  Mom is doubting her ability to watch the girls as much as she has been, so I wanted to find something that had a fuller part-time schedule for around the same cost, which would mean a church program somewhere.

But wait.  I get a call later that night from the ex to tell me that any/all child support payments will be on hold for a few months.  Child support equals school money.  So now I don't have money for them to go to school.  My mom is not up to watching them, no matter how strongly she denies that claim in an effort to help me.  My sister can't watch them because she is now hugely pregnant and needs to stay off of her feet, lest she end up on bedrest like she did with her last pregnancy.

I'm sorry if I sound like I'm whining, but I am at a loss as to what to do.  I know Mom can file an appeal and hire a lawyer, but that will take another  year I'm sure.  What do real people do?  I make too much for assistance, but not enough to actually work and pay for school.  Allie starts kindergarten in August, so that will help.  But right now it's April and just surviving to August seems impossible.  I don't understand the "system".  I don't understand how people who work their asses off year after year after year can get no help when something catastrophic happens.  It's unjust.  And more than that, it is exhausting.

I apologize for being a downer.  And please don't get me wrong.  I am grateful everyday that Mom is still here.  Just being able to call her everyday is a gift beyond measure.  It's just taking us all a lot longer to recover and get back on track than I ever thought it would.

I'll promise I'll post something peppy and cute in a little bit.  I promise.  Meanwhile, if anyone needs any freelance writing/design/vacuuming done, I'm your girl.