Yesterday morning at six thirty a.m. Tommy and I were driving to the Columbia V.A. hospital for a CAT scan of his heart. Both of us were very hungry, very nervous and extremely tired from lack of sleep the night before. We had also been on a self inflicted clear liquid diet for three days and were ready to gnaw our knuckles off to the bone. Neither of us were in the best of moods to say the least.
When I am nervous I do not want to talk. I withdraw from the human race and live in the quiet spots of my imagination. I also do not want anyone else talking b.s. to me while I am trying to restrain my emotions. Tommy is the complete and total opposite of me. When he is nervous he can't shut up! He talks non stop to any and everyone who will listen....even me. He knows I don't want to hear anything about deer, turkeys, dogs, cats or kids. I need for him to be quiet. It is impossible! He needs to be noisy and noisy he is. I was ready to strangle him before we reached Columbia city limits. He showed me every hunting spot he knew. I kept quiet and prayed, "Don't let me choot him!! " Once he said, "See that spot over there? I once saw two little boys and a dog walking on that hill." I looked at him over my glasses and mentally pushed him out of the car!
Not only was I hungry, I had a headache from lack of caffine and nothing was going to stop it but a huge hot cup of coffee. We arrived at the V.A. early as usual. The doors to x ray weren't open so we sat down in the Cardiac waiting room. There were 2 men waiting before we arrived. One man was in his 80's and a talker like Tommy. The other man was probably in his 50's and quietly listened to the new best friends exchange lies.
Tommy tells our life story and then it is the older man's turn to talk. I am reading. He skips his life story but went right straight to how he wanted to die. It seems his grandfather died when he was 85 after marrying a 18 year old girl. This was his plan also. I told him "that would probably do it" and went back to reading. Tommy poked me in the side and whispered "that wasn't very nice". I whispered back, "But it is true...he won't make it a week"...then my stomach growled. I looked at him over my glasses and he proceeded to talk to his new best friend and ignore me.
Finally it was Tommy's turn to see the doctor. Tommy immediately started in on some b.s. about turkey season. They took off together through the sliding doors for his procedure. Someone turned on the t.v. and I will be darn there was Al Gore lying his wazaoo off !!! I could not get a break at all. I just shook my head. This full moon phase was almost more than I could handle. The only thing that could possibly make me feel better was coffee, a delicious meal and maybe a bar room fight!
It was almost 15 minutes later when Tommy's doctor came through the doors laughing so hard I thought she was going to cry. She walked over to me and asked, "Have you both been on a clear liquid diet for 3 days?" I told her we had and asked why. She started laughing again and said, "You were only supposed to be on it for 3 hours before the procedure". I looked at her and said, "NO S**T"! She looked at me and said "no s**t"!!! She was trying to talk through her laughter. She said "I have never had this happen before". I replied that was because "you never met us". She went on to say "I had to tell you because I was afraid he wouldn't and I really wanted you to know." I started laughing at the absurdity of this whole mess. When Tommy came out he looked at me sheepishly and grinned. I laughed saying, "Tommy we are scary". He agreed---quietly.
All I know for sure is that we are dealing with a very serious situation pretty much the way the old cartoon characters Tom and Jerry would have done. We have got to get on the same page as these doctors and do what we are supposed to do. We really are trying. Every time we have been wrong, we thought we were right. We wrote this information down, however somewhere between Columbia and Williamsburg we lost the truth..probably when Tommy started talking about those damn turkeys...again.
Tommy has to have a CAT scan of his heart early Tuesday morning. For this reason he has been placed on a 'clear liquid diet' for three days. To give him moral support and to help make life easier for both of us, I went on the diet with him. We can imbibe on Sprite. We can also indulge in Jell-O as long as it does not have red food coloring in it. Our main course is chicken broth. We are also allowed to drink apple juice and orange juice, topping it all off with a Popsicle for dessert.
So far today Tommy and I are not talking as much as we usually do. He considers me the "Warden" in charge of all the goodies we cannot have. He sleeps a lot. Between his heart being out of whack and not much 'real' food to eat, he is extremely tired. I don't have much energy either. However when we do talk, it is all about the food we are going to consume when our sentence has been commuted. We have decided we are going to eat our first meal at The Longhorn Steak House. Once there we will eat and drink anything we want. Our magical menu consists of rib-eye steak smothered in mushrooms and onions, a baked potato the size of Texas with all the trimmings and a salad loaded to the gills with every thing that makes a salad a meal in itself. All of this will be served with hot buttery rolls and ice tea.
However we still have to get through today. We have feasted on all the goodies that go with this less than perfect menu. While I was cleaning the kitchen this morning I found a brownie at the bottom of my bread basket. The brownie was hard as a rock. It has probably been in that basket since 2011. I held it like it was pure gold. I thought I would stick it in the microwave to soften it up a little and then scarf it down while Tommy slept. When I turned the brownie over, it was disgusting. It was covered in white and green cures for cancer. I gagged and pitched it in the trash. I hate to admit this but I have flushed dead gold fish, pets we loved for several years, down the toilet and did not react or miss them half as much as I did that brownie!!
Tomorrow morning at 6:30 we are on our way to the V.A. Words cannot express how glad we will be when this leg of the journey is done.
Yesterday was the day I have fantasized about and wanted to occur since I was 15 years old. Finally, I would meet with a writing coach. Being riddled with all sorts of anxious second thoughts, was making me a nervous wreck. Every excuse I could think of to cancel the meeting came to mind. I am the Queen of backpedaling. Yesterday for about 2 hours I was in rare form. Lance Armstrong had nothing on me. I took a xanax at 9 a.m. and another at noon. Our meeting was scheduled for 1 p.m. I was really hoping I didn't fall out of my chair while we were talking. My heart wasn't pounding out of my chest or stuck in my throat the way it usually is before an anxiety attack occurs. However, I was a long, long way from being comfortable in my own skin. Filled with self doubt I wondered, " How bad did I want to know the truth?" What if he looked at me and said, "Lady, I can't help you!" Could I handle that kind of criticism? Probably not. At least not without throwing up.
I arrived at Denny's first. I ordered coffee and ice water. Thank goodness for the water because the last thing I needed was another cup of coffee. I waited about 10 minutes then Ed arrives. He couldn't have been nicer. He put me at ease. He told me he had read my blog and his favorite blog was "Intertwined". His exact words were, "That's not a blog, that is a story" YES!!! This is my favorite piece of work so far. It is also the most controversial. He went on to say that my work needs to be edited. He proceeded to go line by line and tell me different ways I could make the story better. What he would leave in and what he would take out. I agreed with most of what he said. However, there is one line I am leaving in. I liked those words.
After the meeting was over we agreed to meet again the first Thursday in March. February has too much going on in my personal life to stop for a writing class. I look forward to the next meeting. In the mean time I have 'homework'. I am to work on editing my blogs. Ed gave me specific things to look for, things to change and some words that need to omitted. It is going to be a challenge, but one I look forward to very much.
I can now check off item number 11 on my Bucket List. I have met with a writing coach and lived to tell the story.
It is no secret that I am not a fan of President Obama or any of his cohorts. I did not watch the Inauguration. I don't care how many Bibles he swears on, I still do not believe him when he speaks. His agenda for my country scares the Hell out of me.....other than that we get along fine.
However, there was one ceremony I was bound and determined to watch. It was the first dance at the Commander In Chiefs Ball. The President and the First Lady danced to Al Green's song, "Let's Stay Together" sung by Jennifer Hudson. For 3 minutes I watched the First Couple dance, kiss, laugh and whisper. For the first time in 4 years I was not mad at them. It may have been for show but part of it, I believe was really the two of them enjoying a moment in history.
I smiled as they danced, laughed when they whispered and wondered what he said to her. When he kissed her I said, 'Awww". Tommy was not impressed at all. He had his hand on the remote control wondering what in the heck had happened to me. He kept saying" can I change this crap?"
"No not yet. I want to see this." I said.
"Why?" Tommy kept asking. Finally the dance was over and Tommy changed the channel. If I am not mistaken, we were once again watching "the Amish Mafia". I hate that show. I don't believe them anymore than I do the President.
It was a good feeling, even though it only lasted 3 minutes, to not be mad at, or afraid of, or skeptical about every word the President utters. Finally, the music stopped and we were back to where we had started.
I want the truth about Benghazi, I want responsible men and women in the new Cabinet, so far the list is nauseating. I want a lot of things for my country. The President and I are polar opposites on most issues. However, for 3 minutes the other night as they danced I wished with all my heart the President was exactly what he appeared to be and I also wished the "Amish Mafia" would be cancelled before the next commercial break. Neither one happened.
I talked to my father, J.L.Humphreys today. As usual it was a most interesting conversation. Daddy has lost most of his hearing and most of his eyesight. However, he still gets around as well as can be expected and he has a sound mind. For that I am thankful.
We never have a 'normal' conversation. I don't know what he thinks we are doing up here but he never, ever repeats what I say right. It is futile to agrue, instead I just let him believe what he thought he heard. The other day he was positive I was going to jail. Why, I have no idea! That was what was on his mind. You have to admit that is an odd thing for a father to think about his daughter but my family has always been doused with a heavy dose of ' odd.' Today, we were on the same page for about 5 minutes. He was the 'old daddy' and I could picture everything he was saying.
He is still independent and can take care of himself. To be almost 90 years old, I think he is doing remarkable. He lives on the 'up and attem' side of ICF, as he calls it in Clinton, Kentucky.
When I talked to him this morning he was telling me about his adventures with some Kahlua liqueur Lisa had sent him for Christmas.
Evidently Daddy didn't know that the Kahlua was for his coffee. Instead he thought it was aftershave. Since he can't see very well, he couldn't read what the bottle said. When he opened it up he thought it smelled "funny, however since Lisa sent it, he decided to put some on his face. He smeared it all over his face, rubbed some on his hands and a little bit in his hair. He waited for the smell to get better. It didn't. In fact he got hot, sticky and as he recalls, "smelled damn funky!!" About this time, Glenda Dublin comes in to check on him and wants to know "why he is sticky and smelly". Daddy said, "Damned if I know, I got this stuff for Christmas and I don't think I will be able to wear it!"
Glenda takes the bottle and reads it to him, explaining it goes in his coffee and not on his head! She wasn't sure he could have it since it had alcohol in it. She needed to check it out. Daddy perked up when she said that. According to him he "turned the bottle up and drank it before she could take it away from him". Said he didn't even get a buzz.......now you know where I get it:)
Every year on Labor Day Weekend the Carter's have their family reunion. Since we have retired, we try our best to attend. Last year, Tami, Casey, Logan and Jacy went with us. The grand kids rode with us in our car, spending most of their time in our hotel room. We were all resting, Tommy was channel surfing while he laid on the bed.
Tommy had his t shirt off. Logan was sitting on the bed behind Papa while they watched a movie. Suddenly, Logan spies a scar on Tommy's back and wants to know what caused it. The scar is round and puckered a little. If you are 8 years old, it can look like a lot of things.
Without taking his eyes off of the t.v. Tommy says, "That is where Nonnie shot me when we first got married!" I am sitting on the couch with Jacy, when Logan yells out, "Nonnie did you shoot Papa when you all first got married??" Laughing I said, "I sure did--he wouldn't take out the garbage!"
Suddenly, Logan is beside himself. He jumped up in bed and started flaying his arms around. " You shot him?" to me. To Tommy, "She shot you?? "YES" we tease in unison.
We were laughing at the scene when Logan put his hands on his hips and yells, "Papa you gotta leave her!! She shot you!!"
I added fuel to the fire saying, "I only shot him once. Now he takes the trash out regularly" Never, ever did I believe Logan could honestly believe this story. Tommy and I were both laughing. Logan did believe the story. He was one mad little boy.
I wondered how on earth he could fall for this story and then I remembered the first time I saw the scar on Tommy's back. I asked him about it and he told me "Joe Neal shot him when they were kids". I was livid, I didn't remember anything about Tommy getting shot!!! I reacted much the same way Logan did when Tommy told me this outlandish story and I was ready to thump Joe Neal in the head.
Some things never change...
Tommy finally calmed me down by telling me the truth. It took 3 times before I was no longer mad at Joe Neal. Logan also calmed down, about 3 times after we told him the truth. He crawled up in my lap and said he was "glad I didn't shoot Papa" He wanted me to 'stay' but under no circumstances could I ever 'shoot Papa'. I promised.
I gave him a kiss on top of his head, looking at Tommy who was laughing---again. Sure am glad Logan can't read minds, because a gun just went off in a small area of my mind:) I would hate to scare Logan twice in one night.
I have fought sleep most of my life. I usually have bad dreams or violent dreams that are next to impossible to discern. Tommy used to worry about me. He would hold me until I was no longer afraid. He couldn't understand what I was so afraid of and I couldn't tell him because I did not know.
Now I take medication to help me sleep and I seldom dream, until this past month or six weeks.
When my mother was dying from Alzheimer's, I kept a dream journal. Continually I would have the same dream night after night. It seldom varied and always caused me to wake up in a cold sweat, startled with my heart pounding in my chest.
In the dream I was approaching an old two story house, badly in need of paint. There were no curtains on the windows except for the first window on the top floor. Visible for all to see was a torn, dirty, white curtain bellowing out of the window, waving to a few passing people. All the other windows were all raised and empty, beckoning to no one in particular.
The landscape looked like Kansas during the Dust Bowl. The house had seen much better days. The rickety stairs were on the right side of the building. Some of the steps were broken or ready to break. There was no banister. I had to walk up the steps. They numbered about 20. I walked slowly with my left had on the side of the building. I couldn't take my eyes off the steps. If I did I would fall. As I climbed, I stumbled several times, finally reaching the top of the stairs. There was a door waiting to be opened. When I walked through the door, there was no floor and I fell into nothingness.
I had this dream every time I went to Kentucky to visit my mother. I can pick apart some of the meaning, or at least I think I know what it meant. It was hard watching Mama loose bits and pieces of herself daily. After she died the dreams stopped.
Now, I have a new nightmare. It is not as scary as Mama's dream was, but it is unnerving at times. Especially after I first wake up. Those first 5 or 10 seconds while I am trying to regain control, I feel disconnected. Then I put my feet on the floor and my day begins to make sense.
In this new dream, I am driving on the interstate in the middle of the night with no headlights or brake lights. It is pitch black. There is no moon. I cannot see where I am going or where I have been. There is no one on the road but me, however I hear cars and trucks coming toward me and behind. I just can't see them. I know they are there somewhere. I hear squalling tires, horns honking, cars skidding and wrecking.
The sound of breaking glass and crushing metal causes me to begin the process of waking up. A huge explosion usually breaks through the dream, finishing the job. I am awake. Once again I am sweating and breathing hard. I know I missed being killed but just barely. Whatever time I wake up, I am ready for my day to begin. After making coffee, I will sit down and begin to write. Soon I shake off the bad feeling and I am ready to start the day.
Life is good, I enjoy my day and before I know it, once again it is time to try and find sleep in the middle of the night. I will be glad when these dreams run their course and sleep, a deep sleep of no remembrance embraces me. One can always hope.
I received this long sleeved T Shirt for Christmas. Right now it has the story of my life plastered on the front of it. In big bold letters it says, "I publish intimate details of my life on the Internet and I don't know why!" Yep, that's me alright!
I wore it to WalMart today. While in the store I picked up 2 new blog readers, people I have known for years. One said, "Hell yes I want to read that!! I worked with you for 10 years. You are crazy as a s**t house rat!! Hmmmmm! I have heard that expression for years and I still do not believe it is a complement. Maybe in the Appalachian mountains but not in WalMart. However I know the guy and he meant it as one....sort of. The other guy, I have known forever. He said he wanted to read it to "see if I had any secrets he doesn't know about." Buddy, you have no idea!
I enjoyed talking to my friends. We caught up on all the gossip from the hospital. Our conversations made me even more glad I have retired. Sometimes a person has to walk away from all the drama, while they are still able walk. It was time for me to go. I liked my job and I wanted to leave with that taste in my mouth.
While I was in town it was 50 degrees, now it is 29 degrees and sleeting. Turn around twice in Missouri and a person can have a whole new world. Before morning we could have 2 inches of snow.
The dogs do not want to go outside to pee. I hope this isn't a problem when I wake up, it has the potential to be a BIG one. It is midnight and I am still trying to make them believe snow and ice are good places to take a leak!
Tommy has already gone to bed. I finished reading a book and I am in the process of winding down my day. There wasn't anything important to say today. Just wanted to touch base with you all and show you my new T Shirt. Tommy never ceases to amaze me. He asked me what I wanted for Christmas, while I was looking at tshirts on zazzle.com. When he saw 2 shirts about blogging, he told me to get them. I jumped at the chance. The other shirt says, "Be careful or you will end up in my blog". I like that one too. People act a little standoffish when I wear it, they also play nice and are on their best behavior....so far.
Personally I prefer this postcard I received the other day. I am a big fan of unusual people and characters are always welcomed in my life.
I want to thank my friend who sent this postcard to me. I love it! Thanks for thinking of me when you bought it. It made me laugh and saved my day:)
I love to receive mail! It doesn't matter what kind it is, with the exception of bills, I am delighted when my mail box is full.
I am on the mailing list of people, places, causes, ideas and political persuasions where I have never sought answers. The list is long and varied but seldom boring. Today I received a magazine selling dvd's about gambling. Why they sent me this I do not know. Of all the many addictions, obsessions and general nosiness that finds a place to call home in my mind, gambling is not one of them. Or it wasn't until I started to read the titles and descriptions of the series of "lectures" on the "Law of Probability". I found this idea somewhat intriguing.
The article stated "if a bettor repeatedly plays the same game with even odds they will eventually and invariably go broke." Now this was news to me. I thought if someone did this exact process, the odds would be on their side to win...eventually. That may explain why I have never won the lottery.
Reading that article jarred my memory of the last place I worked. There were many hours spent with characters of the first degree. One man I was required to spend a lot of one on one time with, thought he had a spaceship attached to his foot and was receiving signals from outer space. To say he had 'problems' was putting it mildly. The weather channel gave him fits. He swore that the weather channel was causing 'flare ups in his reception.' However, put a deck of cards in his hands and he was awesome! None of us could beat him. Regardless of his mental state, he was spot on when it came to card games. Finally he told me his secret.....he could count cards. I was amazed. I wanted him to teach me this trick. He refused and I do not blame him. That was his claim to fame. He didn't need to share what little he possessed. Neither did I. His secret was safe with me as long as he didn't cause any fights.
The magazine I received also had for sale a series entitled, "The Secrets of Mental Math". I remember several high school teachers who would have paid for me to take this course had it been offered then. I could not wrap my mind around algebra, nor could I keep my mouth shut. To me algebra makes something hard out of an idea that could be worked out in half the time and paper if reason and logic were used instead of a shovel.
I thought the titles of the math courses offered were amusing. Some courses listed were, "Go Forth and Multiply", "Divide and Conquer", "The Art of Guesstimation," followed closely by "The Speed of Vedic Division"....and that folks is where they lost me.
Hidden in the rest of the mail was my monthly "Oprah" magazine, a catalog for kids games, a catalog for sex toys and a folder concerning the publication of a "new Bible". None of which I asked for----except Oprah. I am sure my mail lady wonders when she is sorting my mail, just what exactly is going on in my house. I know I do at times and I live here.
