Daily Archives: April 12, 2012
A Big Thank You to You
I have been writing for the world to read now for five weeks. I am just astounded every day, when I see how many people are actually reading my posts. I used to sit in school, clear back to my elementary days, I can remember, and doodle. Remember doing this? When you are bored with a topic being discussed, or just can’t seem to concentrate. You would rather be outdoors, or out of this door? What did you used to do when you were bored in school? I remember when there was a class assignment about writing, the moans heard in all directions, but I couldn’t wait to get home and start writing my so-called master piece. I would write a few lines, not like it, wad my piece of paper into a ball, and play hoops into the trash can. Soon, though, some creative idea would pop in my head, like a light bulb coming on. In no time at all, I had my paper ready, with all the misspelling, and wrong punctuation marks included. I would turn it in the next day, beaming from ear to ear, knowing inside I was going to get some kind of reward. The teacher would take it, as she did all others, mixing mine in with the rest, like it was not anything special, although I knew it was. This happened year after year all through out my school days. Sometimes I got an A on the top of my papers, sometimes an A plus a few red lines through out the topic. Sometimes I even got two gold stars on top, plus an A. I would race home to show it to my parents, and mom would give me a pat on the back, and post it on the front door of the refrigerator, right in the middle, so we could see it all the time. As I got older, my topics turned to boys, and friends, and dreams about what I wanted to be when I grew up. I guess I have always enjoyed writing, but never thought it was good enough to show anyone. I had a special blue folder in my bedroom that I kept them for a long time. Now today, I write more about my personal life. Things that are going on today. People that are involved with me. I receive comments from so many nice people. I get comments from the every day housewife, professional people, writing authors, singer song writers, comments from other countries, even high school kids. I am just amazed, and so humbled when I read each one. As most of you realize by now, I take care of my brother. He is mentally challenged, has CAD, Parkinson’s and Dementia. I have come to look to all of you as my friends. I have come to lean on all of you for my emotional support. I have more than one purpose now to my life. To continue to follow in God’s footsteps, to continue to care for my brother with much love and patience, adding some laughter somewhere in that recipe, if possible, and to realize how lucky I truly am, how truly blessed, to be here at home, and to have acquired more friends than I ever dreamed. Prayers are said, hope is given, sadness is shared. I am truly a lucky gal. Thank you bloggers. Thank you for changing my life, and making me a part of yours.
Our Morning Visit
I woke up this morning to an early day break, realizing that this was a sign of a sunny day. That is so mood inspiring for me. It can have a chill in the air, but sunshine makes all the difference. I crawled out of bed and went and got my cup of coffee and sat here at my computer reading my emails. I had one hour. One hour for peace to remain over me. Today was the dreaded day for him and for me. It was the big day for going to the dentist to get one tooth pulled. He got up not long after I did, and was pretty quiet. He went about his business of preparing his frozen waffles, and getting his glass of milk. I told him that I would fix him some eggs along with it. That he should enjoy a bigger breakfast, because he would probably have to eat a softer diet the rest of the day. He said no. This is what I eat for breakfast every day. There is usually not an option for me, when it comes to changing his routines. After breakfast, he brushes his teeth, and comes out here to watch some TV. He has started using his walker as a footstool lately, so when I turned around, sure enough, he had his feet propped up on his walker, and he just gave me a big smile. He looked so relaxed. It was time to go. I think I was more nervous than he was, knowing what he was going to go through. I have been there, and done that myself. We arrive, get out of the car and go in. We have about ten minutes to spare for his appointment. Suddenly, he starts shaking his head back and forth, mimicking the word no. I said what’s the matter bud. He says, they don’t have any brains. I am sitting out here and they don’t give a shit whether I am here or not. I explained how we are a little early, and that it will be alright. He continues this and I can see that his tremors are going in full throttle. Reminds me of the race tracks, where you watch the flags go from ready, start, go! A couple of days ago, the tremors have navigated their way to his mouth. So along with full tremors, in hands , legs, and feet, I now see the chin and lips quivering also. He starts to cry. I try to comfort him, but to no avail. The receptionists are looking our way, whispering to each other. I want to scream at them, if you have something to say, say it aloud so I can hear! I smile, and they go back to their work. His name is called. Muttering words under his breath, that I can not understand, and continuing with the shaking back and forth of his head, I knew we were in hot water. We get back there to his seat, and he couldn’t sit down, so the tech moved the arm rest to the side, to make it easier for him. Now he is refusing to sit, because the chair is moving. He can’t sit because the chair won’t sit still. I help him in the chair by myself, while she stands by and watches. My brother had been telling me all week, that it is the tooth on the bottom that ice cream hurts, not the top. I knew that he was just confused, but I was going to bring this issue up anyways for his sake. The tech looks in his mouth, and says yep, your are right, there is a cavity down there. I said I thought with the x-rays you could see all. She comments that they only took one x-ray the prior week. She goes and gets the dentists and explains about this dilemma. He tells me, that I said he only had one cavity. How would I know this? Am I a freaking dentist? I told him that this is where my brother said it hurt. It is his job to check out the mouth. The dentist sits down in his chair and explains he only pulls one tooth at a time. That he didn’t know if I wanted to put my brother through two more visits. I couldn’t help laughing inside
. This man must think I am a total fruit cake. He can hear and see my brother’s anxieties, and he is asking me if I want to bring him back twice again. I calmly said, I didn’t think this was a good idea. What other options are there. He explained how they do not do sedation there, and he advised we go see an oral surgeon. My brother flipped out right there. You are not pulling my tooth today? You are going to make me suffer on purpose? You just don’t want to do it. You are a bad dentist! I was dying inside. I wanted to once again run and hide, but I sat in place. I knew that being put to rest was the best deal for my brother at this time. One needle, no pain, all done. My brother didn’t see it that way. He had been to this oral surgeon many years ago and had some recurring memories of that visit. He told me and the dentist, that this surgeon uses dry needles. That there is lots of pain. I once again tried to comfort him and say things would be ok. This would be much easier, one visit, no pain. His tremors shook so bad the dental chair was moving. Tears were pouring down his cheeks. Nasty comments were flying out of his mouth, like daggers. The dentist got up and walked out the door, leaving me to stay there alone and figure out how to get us out of that room. The tech said that she was going to go set the new appointment. I did manage to get us out of there. I am patiently waiting for the new appointment, while hearing my brother blowing out his thoughts of this visit and the new visit. The receptionist obviously knew the receptionist at the surgeon’s office, because when the connection was made, she said hi, are you going to the Vera Bradley party? Yes, I have gotten off the alcohol for now. So, are you going to the party? Steam started coming out my ears, and my nostrils were flaring. I said excuse me! I think you are supposed to be making an appointment for my brother? Can you hold your socializing until your lunch break? I heard her tell the other person, I have to make an appointment for a consult. She looked at me like I was the one being rude. I felt like flipping her the bird, but I kept my lady like posture about me. The appointment was made. We finally made it to the car after I explained many times over, that we were just going to talk to this new dentist, and he would get his history about his medications, etc. We are finally home. I gave him his plavix pill that we had held giving him the past few days. He is in his room, resting. He is quiet. No more cursing or yelling. Just tremors remain from our horrible morning.