myjourneysinsight

OPENING THE GATES TO OUR HEARTS

Posted on March 8, 2010 by Judy

Magda and her step-grandson, Nicolas.

“I’ve helped to open the heart gates for others”

When I first met Magda while playing tennis, I had not yet lost my child. We became friends through our common interest, the enjoyment of tennis.

She loved children, and when Jason was born she was extremely caring.

After losing a child, I learned things about many people and their pain. Friends and other humans shared pain with me that they had kept hidden prior to that. Many people bury their pain so that they can carry on a “normal” existence.

After Jason died, many people shared their own grief experience with me.

It was then that I learned about Magda’s past. I remember clearly how she had great difficulty attending my son’s funeral, yet she made the effort to be there. She was unable to enter the room where the small casket was.

Currently, Magda has Multiple Sclerosis. Her MS has been very progressive and extremely painful. She has an amazing attitude about everything that has happened to her.

On Mar 7, 2010, Magda wrote:

DEAR JUDY,

I WAS BORN AND RAISED IN A CHRISTIAN FAMILY, MY GRANDMA AND MY MOM TOOK ME TO THE CHURCH BUT LATER ON, THE COMMUNIST GOVERNMENT INTERDICT THE RELIGION, THEY DON’T BELIEVE IN GOD OR THEY ARE AFRAID OF HIM….

WHAT I KNOW, IS THERE IS ONLY ONE GOD WHO CREATED ALL OF US…

MY REAL CONNECTION WITH GOD WAS WHEN I LOST MY DAD, HE WAS 54, I WAS 24… 3 YEARS LATER I LOST MY SON, HE WAS BORN ALIVE AND BECAUSE WAS PREMATURE I COULDN’T HOLD HIM, I COULD SEE HIM THROUGH A WINDOW. I PUMPED OUT THE MILK AND THE NURSE COULD FEED HIM…HE DIED FROM HEPATITIS OR…? IN THAT DAY I CRIED NON-STOP AND NEXT DAY I LEFT THE HOSPITAL WITHOUT DOCTOR’S PERMISSION, GOING TO A CHURCH PRAYING ON MY KNEES FROM MY HEART…I FELT SOMETHING I CAN NOT DESCRIBE…I FELT LIGHTER & LIGHTER

GOD LISTENED TO MY PRAYER AND HELPED ME TO STAND UP AND CONTINUE MY LIFE…. IN 3-4 MONTHS GOING BACK TO SPORT ACTIVITIES, BUT I COULDN’T TALK ABOUT MY BABY FOR YEARS.

I GOT STRONGER AND NOTHING COULD HURT ME MORE THAN LOSING MY BABY…..THIS IS THE WAY I GOT MY FAITH IN GOD

IT IS INSIDE OF ME AND NOBODY CAN TAKE IT OUT….

JUDY YOUR TALENT (ART AND MUSIC) IS A GIFT FROM GOD ALSO YOUR GOOD HEART (COMPASSION AND UNDERSTANDING) THREE WONDERFUL KIDS…. SO MANY THINGS TO BE GRATEFUL TO GOD…MY GRANDSON, ASKS ME MANY THINGS ABOUT GOD …HE KNOWS HOW TO PRAY AND HE SAID HE IS GOING TO PRAY FOR GRANDMA TO WALK AGAIN….SO SWEET ….

HE MELTED MY HEART…..

I LOVE THE WAY YOU ARE …YOU HELPED ME AND OTHERS TO OPEN OUR HEART GATES……….LOVE, MAGDA

On Mar 7, 2010, Judy wrote:

Dearest Magda,

Present and past collide for me. I am healing with opening my heart gates. At the same time, my tender heart is aching as I read what you wrote. I feel your pain about your baby, and I am openly sobbing. I had to close the door so no one could hear me.

I am so sorry for all that you suffered! That horrible regime and communist government in Romania was responsible for your child’s death; you labored for far too long and almost died yourself. And that same government outlawed religion!

How can I not thank you for opening up to me? You will be part of my book, which I am hoping will help many other people. There is no benefit to not talking about the things in our lives that change us forever. The way you described how you felt lighter and lighter after praying, is how I am feeling now about writing.

Love, Judy

My cousin, Dorothy, was very close with my mom. Her son, who is a doctor, has helped my mother more than words could express.

When I had this email exchange today, it helped to summarize for me the collision of the past and present.

This exchange began as I was emailing some of my feelings regarding religion. It started with a message to my cousin, Dorothy.

On Mar 6, 2010, Judy wrote:

HI Dorothy,

Your compliment to me that I am “a good Jew” overwhelms me. That is one area where I always feel like I’ve disappointed my mom.

One of my most recent discoveries is that my mom does not have the faith I always envied in her. She is very much afraid of death.

So the very thing I thought my mother had, I don’t see in her as much now.

She knows that I do not attend synagogue services. I was forced to go to temple for years and years, and disliked the services intensely. I also haven’t embraced a lot of the Jewish traditions. Years ago, it was difficult for my mom to accept this, but in these later years – she has come around.

I received a lot of support from the Jewish Community Center where Jason attended preschool. They were like a family, and extended so much kindness and compassion to our family.

At this time, I feel fortunate to have discovered our wonderful temple. I did all this for my mom, but in the end, so much came back to my children. I just try not to force them as much. Right now, my oldest teenagers are not much interested in being Jewish, and Reggie is close to dropping out.

It is hard to convey something to them that I’m not sure I have. It is so interesting how many of my friends became very religious or “orthodox.” Joni got so much out of watching my family while she was growing up. She envied our Shabbats.

I guess I know I’m a good person. All my suffering helped me understand the pain of grief; I am good at extending comfort to other people.

I am so glad you wrote me, Dorothy.

Love, Judy

On Mar 7, 2010, Dorothy wrote:

Dear Judy,

Judy, religion is a gift. It is true you can go through life without it, however, with it you can’t believe the rewards you get. It is a gift that you receive each day!

You wrote that you have discovered that your mom is not religious. How wrong you are. She has gone through so much in her life and it is her religious belief that has helped make her stronger as she tackled each new problem. I remember when you and Mike got married; she bought glass dishes to help you keep kosher.

Maybe your mom is afraid of dying, it is the unknown, however, don’t judge her by that. She has spent her life with G-d by her side and she has tried to pass it on to her children and grandchildren because she knew what a gift it was.

Love, Dorothy

On Sun, Mar 7, 2010 Judy wrote:

Dear Dorothy,

I phrased it wrong! I think words can be so powerful, and it is important to be careful to make sure my message is properly conveyed. What meant to convey, was not that my mom was less religious, but actually that she was less rigid!

Her rigidity in following Jewish law was very hard for me. It seemed that her way was the “right” way. There are many Jewish laws to follow, but she chose certain ones and adhered to them strictly. Here’s an example: She cut her knuckle deeply with a knife during a Jewish holiday. For two days, she refused to go to a doctor. She wouldn’t go in a car until the holiday was over. Her knuckle never healed properly; it ended up requiring surgery and is still deformed to this day.

I am not judging my mom negatively by her fear of death; her mother had it, too. I am actually more connected with her for being so human. Her new flexibility in not being so set on going to temple is extremely refreshing for me.

Maybe just as I have discovered opening up, I will find more faith someday. That is something I might want, but cannot find.

By the way, my mom did give me a set of glass dishes; it was assumed that I would keep Kosher. One of my most very challenging moments was confronting her when I decided a few years after being married, not to keep kosher.

I is ironic to me that I ended up with a son who is an avowed atheist and a vegetarian.

Thanks for your message, Dorothy. I appreciate your honesty and how much you have shared with me.

Love, Judy

This picture was taken at my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah.

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Posted in Grief Stories | Tagged Aging Parents, childhood friendship, Friendship, grief bereavement "Loss of a Child", GRIEF RELATED, loss, mother's illness, religion, religion and grief, Romanian oppression, stillbirth, writing | Leave a comment

I KNOW I’M LEARNING, “WRITE” OR WRONG

Posted on March 7, 2010 by Judy

Cover page from my 6th Grade Autograph Book.

I woke up early again, bursting to write. I have found that releasing what has been inside is so cathartic; it is like throwing up and feeling better after. Although I am gathering thoughts for my more difficult essays, I don’t feel compelled to write about those traumatic memories yet.

My healing through writing has progressed at lightning speed. “I’m Taking Off” is my new title for my blog. I am taking off, as in taking a break. In addition, I am taking off in new directions because I am implementing into my life “new and different” concepts. I give credit for these new ideas to hypnotherapy and my willingness to learn from it. It has taken me awhile to understand what “up and out” really meant. My floodgates are completely open for the first time in thirty years!

This blog all came about due to a suggestion by my hypnotherapist, Connie. I find it interesting that I have peeled back all the layers and revelations that have happened to me in no specific order. I do not decide what I’m going to write about until I feel compelled to release it. My subjects of writing from the very beginning of this blog are in whatever order they have been revealed to me.

My school picture from 5th or 6th grade.

The post title, “I KNOW I’M LEARNING, “WRITE” OR WRONG,” refers to the fact that I was always the “good girl.” I was used to being told that everything was clearly either right or wrong. I never wanted to disappoint my parents, and I have had a lot of difficulty allowing myself to see things differently than them.

My father has a severe hoarding problem. Honestly, it’s very severe. It has been one of my mother’s greatest aggravations.

As far as hoarding goes, I am well aware of the burden my father is leaving me to clean out his and my mother’s former residence. It will be a huge job for me. I am certain, there are special mementos for me there. That is because my father has saved every bit of schoolwork and correspondence from all three of his children.

I grew up never having my own closet available, beyond a small area for hanging clothes. Some day, I’ll sneak in a picture of my old bedroom. The posters are still on the wall, and the trundle bed with the pink bedspread is still there. Those things are invisible, because the room is filled from floor to ceiling with junk.

I am very organized and can throw things away. I am also selective and have always known what is important for me to save. I have several “memory boxes.”

When I am gone, I realize that my children probably won’t look at my boxes; even if they did, the meaning and memory from those items are locked away within me. Writing about my life, is something that will help them understand some day more about me; it is something very precious. I am grateful that I saved so many special things.

I have a box from my elementary school days. Today when I opened it up, there was so much exciting stuff inside! I always thought I would open it when I was older and had more time.

There was my autograph book from elementary school! I have wanted to look for the exact wording of the message from my sixth grade teacher regarding my “writing career.” I looked through the entire book with pleasure.

There it was! This was my absolutely, favorite message; the one I have embedded in my memory all these years:

“Dear Judy, You’ve really been a great asset to the class. You’re such a talented girl with so many things going for you. Be sure to send me an autographed copy of your first book!”

Love, Cindy Fritz 1971

My favorite message from my 6th Grade Teacher

As I flipped through the pages, I saw a message from my childhood friend, Joni. She wrote something very funny. Her last name was Lee, and we knew we would someday go to Grant High School, which was across the street from us. She wrote:

“Remember Grant, remember Lee, the Hell with them, remember me!” Joni

For a moment, I wondered what I wrote in my fellow, sixth graders’ autograph books! I am certain it was nothing that profound. Actually, one of my sadder memories was writing some bad words in a friend’s junior high yearbook. She was very upset with me, and scratched it out. I can’t believe that I did that! With that pang coming over me, I once again remind myself that, “I am so human!”

Joni’s message in sixth grade.

Only one friend listed, Joni

I had a good laugh; there was a message from my father that was signed, your dad, “Lee Goodman.” How weird was that? When I read my father’s message I was hysterical. In addition to being a math and history teacher, my dad was a high school counselor.

My dad’s message in 6th Grade.

My father’s message:

Summer, 1971

Dearest Judy, Congratulations upon graduating from Monlux! You have done very well in your elementary education. You are now about to embark upon your secondary schools. You are a wonderful artist. Always try to take art courses in addition to college preparatory. Take Hebrew at Grant, and perhaps French in ninth or tenth grade. Always think of other people and listen to Norman and Howard who both love you. You are a darling sister and beautiful daughter.

Your dad, Lee Goodman

I’m not sure what occasion this is where I’m dancing with my father.

As I read my dad’s message, I realized there was nothing my brothers could tell me that I would “listen to.”

Because I am the “baby” in my family, my brothers were viewed as my advisors. It didn’t turn out like that. The reality has been that my brothers have not really been able to help me much with my parents’ care. However, I know they love me and are very appreciative of what I have done for our parents.

I also saw where my father had decided what classes I should take. I was glad to know that I refused to take French. I did not have any talent for foreign languages.

The tears welled up when I read this message from my mother:

To my dearest daughter Judy

I’m so proud of your accomplishments in grammar school. I love reading your stories and looking at your artwork. I hope you will be my happy girl all through life. Mom

My mom’s message to me in 6th Grade.

I have just let out an audible sob, and the tears are streaming down my face. My mother cannot read my writing now, and I did not turn out to be her “happy girl.”

I took a deep breath. I stopped and went to the “grateful place.” My mother is still alive, and she has lived to see me happy again. That is the truth. Although I am grieving the loss of our former closeness, I do not need to prepare myself all the time to deal with her death. The most “interesting” thing is that her illness and deterioration has caused me to totally re-evaluate my existence. It was actually the catalyst for me to find happiness again!

The last five years have been especially difficult, due to my parents’ decline and childrens’ challenges. The fact that I provided little or no income as my career slowly dwindled, was another great source of stress.

However, not having any illustration work allowed for me to advocate more for my children, which was a blessing. When my parents moved in, I had to shop for food almost every, single day.

For a year, my parents were on a waiting list to for a nursing facility that was perfect for them. When they were accepted, I celebrated! I couldn’t have gone on as a full-time caregiver much longer. I developed Microscopic Colitis, and other stress-related ailments.

It was ‘interesting” that I never received a single, free-lance job during the time my parents lived with me. I did not have time to think about anything except my parents’ care during that time.

I have struggled a lot with my career declining. When I worry about the size of our debt, I become depleted. I have let go of that. I am grateful my husband has faith in my creative abilities; something I have only recently begun to realize and appreciate him for.

It was when my parents moved in with me three years ago, that I first came to see Connie and began hypnotherapy. At one of our first hypnotherapy sessions, I told Connie, “I want to be a columnist; a writer!” I told her I had a lot of ideas and topics that I could write about. If I were disciplined, I could write something each day and create a whole, new portfolio. I appreciated the opportunity to brainstorm.

I left that session, and I never wrote a thing. I knew I had a writer within me, but it was a long time since I had written anything. Until this morning when I opened my elementary school box, I had completely forgotten about the short stories I wrote back then.

I knew I had written speeches and, of course, there was Jason’s eulogy. All of my recent writing began as a result of email updates when my mom was on life support for two months. That was the catalyst!

But what I really remembered was how much I used to love to write song lyrics and music. It has been thirty years since I last wrote a song.

My typing skills have been a huge asset for me. In high school, I won a secretarial award!

Tagged "sandwich generation", Aging Parents, childhood friendship, childhood memories, creativity, elementary school memories, Friendship, high school memories, Hypnotherapy, memorabilia, Ordinary Life, writing | Leave a comment

I AM THE SANDWICH – PART 1

Posted on March 6, 2010 by Judy

My illustration of a sandwich describes me perfectly!

Random thoughts:

Killer came running to me and licked my face. I love the fact that I never hear complaints about “morning breath!”

That dog is a huge distraction – even more than email. Today, while I was working on an art job, Killer came to keep me company.

He just ate the newspaper I put down for him to pee on. What should I do? It’s such a mess! If I take away the newspaper, where will he pee and poop?

Then I caught him chewing on a rubber part – it was from a fountain pen that one of my children had left out. I am not up to baby proofing this house for a dog!

Oh my god! Now the dog is chewing on an “Ant Bait Hotel.” I won’t tell Michael. He would say (because he always exaggerates), “The dog ingested poison, and he most certainly will die a slow and painful death over the next two weeks.”

Rosa would say, “A dime a dozen; I’ll find you another Chihuahua. I’ve already had two – it’s easy!”

I noticed that one of the cats was eating the dog’s food. Wow, they both liked to switch foods! Wasn’t that interesting. That thought left me quickly as I realized how I’d feel if the cat threw up again!

I couldn’t even go to the bathroom alone. All the animals have followed me.

I could hardly believe I was able to get any work done! I rested a short while, until the front door slammed as my oldest son left to go to class.

At that moment, the dog let out a shrieking, soprano coyote howl. Then “smarty-pants remembered” – there’s that “other lady” upstairs resting. He barreled up the stairs and started howling at my bedroom door.

I was done resting, for sure. Killer licked my face. I noticed that I could almost fit his head inside my mouth. Why didn’t I have a dog instead of kids? All this love, and no aggravation!

More random thoughts:

Can dogs have Asperger’s Syndrome?

Is that a rawhide toy or a poop on the carpet?

Killer is barking at our cat; the cat is hissing back. I shout, “Stop fighting you two!” Oh my goodness; it’s just like my children. Turn off that nagging horn; the animals are not listening and don’t understand English!

Could this dog have a cardiac defect? I haven’t yet shared that I’m very capable of detecting arrhythmias and low blood oxygen.

Aha – my mother termed this phrase for me perfectly: The dog is just having a “Happy Heart Attack!”

This morning, I realized I never brought in yesterday’s mail. That has happened a lot, lately. I saw the dog across the room and figured, “I’ll just slip out the front door and get the mail.”

Lesson learned: NEVER try to get out the door without the dog. It squeezed by me, like a bolt of lightning; the door slammed shut and I heard a huge yelp! OMG, OMG – did I kill it? I couldn’t handle any more grief in my life right now!

Thank god, the dog rolled on the grass and was still alive. This was too much excitement for me. It’s not like “getting away with” breaking the garage door. I would never be forgiven if this creature were maimed for life.

Michael came in. I mentioned that Killer had chewed everything in sight. I said that it started with the newspapers, but stopped at the little, rubber pen part.

Did you know that little part could kill the dog?” Michael yelled to our kids. (There he went, exaggerating again).

I have learned so much. I did not mention the Ant Bait trap. I went back to work, and Michael and our son went for a stroll with Killer.

I am sharing a picture below. Notice how clever I was; I managed to catch that half moon hole I made backing out of the garage with my trunk open!

Oops!

Even more random thoughts:

A few days ago, Killer saw a vet. He did not have a microchip and we were able to officially adopt him. Killer was 3 ½ pounds, and approximately four months old. He was not a Teacup Chihuahua and would definitely grow bigger. He was still too young to be neutered. The big news was that it would cost $200. Sigh.

I found out the real story about how Michael and our son found Killer. It’s too good to be true; I couldn’t have written a better story. This was definitely a “Touched by an Angel” episode. If it were still being filmed, I could send them a script.

Here was a Killer of a story:

Michael was driving and one block away from our home, when a little dog was running in the street. Michael stopped the car and our son jumped out to chase the dog. The dog ran to a house where a frantic owner was waiting. He said the dog had been abandoned and he asked Michael if he wanted to adopt him.

After hearing that story, I realized that I needed to be more careful about Killer running out our front door.

Killer has become a therapy dog for our broken family.

After lunch, I took a nap with Michael. When I woke up, I decided to go downstairs. I noticed Killer was lying on top of Michael, who was still asleep. Killer had his head snuggled into Michael’s armpit.

My husband had someone to give him attention, finally. It was a very, good thing.

I decided to go play my guitar and let Michael hear my youngest son and I singing together in harmony. For the first time, my harmony did not throw my son off. It was such a perfectly, beautiful moment.

It was also the first time in a very, very long time that I have played my guitar again for Michael.

It felt as if I were finally in a healing phase of my life. Finally.

Killer says, “I can’t pee on demand. I’d rather pee in the house!”

“Just another manic Monday!”

I knew that title had been taken for a song, and I could hear it running through my head all morning!

Getting my children off to school was extremely hectic. After my last child left for school, I drove to see my mom at her nursing facility. I ran in breathless, and she was eating breakfast. My mom was so happy to see me! There is nothing better than a mother’s love – I am perfect in her eyes.

She reminded me to be sure to add something about her when I write about Jason. She wanted me to share how she dropped out of her last semester in college in order to help me with Jason. She was so close to graduating. I was glad she reminded me; I had completely forgotten about that.

I stopped to see her dietician, because my father told me her food has still been “chopped.” I fixed that mistake.

I went to watch her physical therapy. The therapist reminded me to find out about a second opinion regarding shoulder surgery to remove the screws. She told me that my mom’s shoulder was “frozen,” and she would probably have more mobility with that surgery.

Another problem came up to add to my list. I must call the nursing supervisor to complain. My mom told me she was using her diaper because the nurses were too busy to take her to the bathroom. Everyone loves my mom because she smiles and doesn’t complain.

I said goodbye to my mom, and called my dad on the way home. I was feeling very competent.

Suddenly, I was irritated because the dog began wailing and whistling. I was obviously not good enough. This was a morning that I did not need this.

I made another phone call to refill three medications. Will that damn dog shut up!

The doorbell rang; it was UPS! It was a package for Michael, which of course meant more charges on the credit card. I opened the door to get the package, and out went “Killer.”

He chased the UPS guy and almost jumped into his truck. This was another OMG moment for me. I wasn’t sure how the hell to catch that little rat! I must have looked incompetent (how quickly we go downhill), because that creature was running in circles while I bent over trying to catch him. Finally, he jumped into my arms and I carried him into the house while he licked my face. I guess he finally warmed up to me.

I felt like I had a baby again. He finally napped, so now I could actually concentrate. I did paperwork and damage control all morning.

I spoke to the nursing supervisor where my mom was. She agreed to make sure that no nurse would ever be too busy to take my mom to the bathroom.

Still have to:

2. Call the roofer.

3. Balance two checking accounts

4. Enroll my daughter for the SAT and ACT

5. Remember to pick up medications for members of my family

6. Be sure not to step on the dog

7. Email Mike’s doctor

9. Let Mike show me where he put those emergency keys. I wasn’t listening.

One of my children just told me that he’s really hungry, but rather than fix himself food, he decided to “wait for me.” I am fine with making lunch for him today.

These are precious times!

Celebrating my mother’s birthday five years ago.

My mom smiling despite her circumstances

Tagged "sandwich generation", Aging Parents, Caregiving, Daily Life, Humor, humor children, humor daily life, Ordinary Life, parenting, Pets, writing | Leave a comment

EVERYONE’S DEPENDING ON ME!

Posted on March 3, 2010 by Judy

Only four years ago, my parents were independent

“Do I have the poise?”

The other day I confused the word insure with the word Ensure (calorie booster for the elderly). These things are happening to me quite often. I’m not hearing as well as I used to. Recently, I heard another friend say, “I have to pick up some Poise.”

Well I jumped in and said, “Me, too! My mother needs some Poise, also!”

The woman had said “TOYS,” not Poise. It was for her grandchildren.

I guess, as we get older and are part of the “Sandwich Generation,” our thoughts turn from being previously about our children to things associated with aging. It doesn’t escape me that instead of pushing a stroller, I’m now pushing a wheelchair! So that is why I’ve chosen this title. DEPENDING on me represents those “Depends” diapers, and it also represents the fact that you can’t imagine how many people are depending on me!

Unfortunately, although I have two brothers, a lot depends on me with my parents. Perhaps that is more the burden of being a daughter; I’m not really “ENsure.”

I sent the following message to my brothers in an effort to “keep them in the loop” regarding my mom. I also wanted their support, because it was recommended that my mother have surgery to remove the screws from her last shoulder surgery. The last surgery she had was where she ended up on a respirator. Although removing screws is considered minor surgery, understandably, I have a lot of trepidation around it.

I was the baby in my family. My brother Norm is on left, next to Howard.

Message to one of my brothers:

On Mar 3, 2010, Judy wrote:

Mom just called me because she was wondering why it’s taking so long to get that second opinion. I think she is doing better, but I am concerned about why they ordered oxygen for her just yesterday.

I know you want mom to have the surgery, but she wants to proceed more carefully than last time – Can you blame her?

Honestly, I am working right now and it would be helpful if you could arrange the second opinion. Can you talk with mom more about it? I am not faulting the surgeon, however, he wasn’t too savvy about mom’s respiratory problems when he rushed to do that first surgery.

Even with a shoulder block, mom is very fragile right now. Also, she’s not complaining as much about the shoulder pain. She is doing more therapy right now. The doctor didn’t allow for range of motion until recently, which may be part of her problem of “frozen shoulder.” Maybe with more therapy she’ll be better.

We were told she absolutely needed the first surgery because the bones where shattered. Well I spoke with one of mom’s friends. And she said that she fell and had her shoulder shattered. She opted not to have the surgery and is doing fine. Remember, they didn’t even see the shattered bones initially on the x-ray, so it couldn’t have been so horrible.

All that being said, I’m not a surgeon. I’m just not going to rush mom into this!

Love, Jude

It is almost lunchtime and my mother called to say, “Honey, I want to see that doctor in LA that my friend recommended.”

I told her:

“That’s great, mom! I think it’s such a terrific idea. I’m with you 100%. It’s difficult for me to transport you – you can’t get in my car, and the wheelchair is too heavy for me. Why don’t you see if my brothers can arrange it?”

My mom said, “Honey, great idea. I’m not very good at asking, but I will.”

I got off the phone wondering if she would.

Asking for help was something I’ve only recently learned to do.

I was there every single day when my mother was in intensive care. I haven’t had a job in so long (or a vacation). I needed to work on an art assignment, and taking my mom to this appointment was additional pressure.

It’s never too late to try something different. I actually don’t think my asking is going to make anything happen. But it does feel better. I hate to disappoint anyone, especially my mother.

“Last Night”

Last night, Michael weighed the dog, Killer, on a postal scale! It was a funny sight to see. Killer weighs all of 3 ½ pounds! That dog is so small the bird could kill him. Unfortunately, it turns out that Killer is not as silent as I thought. He does have an annoying yappy bark. When he’s upset, he sounds like a soprano coyote.

Thank goodness there wasn’t any cat vomit to step on today. I came into the kitchen and I heard meowing coming from my studio. I always close the door to my office. I don’t want any cats in there at night. I don’t need extra cat hairs on my printer, scanner, tablet, or computer! Well guess what? I locked the cat inside my studio, last night! OOPS! Here I was trying to keep them out, and instead I kept one in! That smell this morning could be yesterday’s puppy poop or now it could be something the cat left for me.

Speaking of morning smells, today it was the horrible odor of burning cat hair. The cat was waiting on the counter for her wet food, and her tail got a little too close to the teakettle. Fortunately, the cat wasn’t hurt because I patted it out quickly. But the smell of burning cat hair was simply awful! My poor son walked around all morning with a towel over his nose and mouth.

It was time to drive my daughter to school. I said one of my usual silly things to her. Because she had volleyball tryouts, I asked her if she wanted to take Motrin before she left, as a “preventative.”

She gave me one of her “withering looks,” because it was an arthritic, older person’s idea! I guess I forgot that she doesn’t have those “old bones” like I have. I always take “preventative Motrin” when I play tennis. Otherwise my bunions on my toes might bother me.

I have to thank one of my children for those bunions. Someone (emphasis on one) of my children dropped a piece of ice on the floor about 12 years ago. It melted, and I slid across the kitchen floor when I hit that little puddle. My toe was twisted a bit, and the bunion developed soon after that. It became contagious and spread to the other toe, as well. (I guess maybe I can’t blame the fall then!)

Speaking of bunions and bare feet, I have a confession to make. Yes, I like to be barefoot – just like my kids. I know I shouldn’t do this. I had to go to the ATM right after I dropped my daughter off. I bemoan the fact that it isn’t a drive through. So there I was in bare feet, a bathrobe, and the worst part – without a bra! I did park and wait to make sure I wasn’t next to anyone.

I came home and I pushed the button to go into the garage. The stupid part was that I pushed the button twice. I was zooming into the garage as the door started to come down again!

I was going way too fast to stop. I simply accelerated and zipped in hearing a slight thump. Whew! That was a whole lot better than the time I backed out with the rear door up. There is still a half moon hole in the wood frame at the top of the garage door. I wish I had the time to patch it and paint it. Michael forgave me, thank god, but he would be upset if I’ve done something else!

I went upstairs to get dressed. Now that annoying dog named Killer is dancing around me. He has just run off with one of my socks. I thought it was cute, until I tried to get it back! Well it is finally time for me to go to work.

I have less and less time to write now that I am working. I keep saying, “I’m going to disappear for a while.” I just can’t stop. It has been so much fun doing all this, even with the more tragic recurrences of memories.