November 1, 1996 5:30 AM
Ouch ! !
My lower back! I don't know what happened. Started hurting last night. Still with me this morning. I hope it isn't an "old" person thing that will be with me like forever! I'll just go on as usual and try to ignore it. Maybe it will go away.
Rain last night kept all the little goblins away. Now we are stuck with bags and bags of sweet sugary stuff that neither Forrest nor I will eat. Forrest said he is going to try to take it back to Consumer's but I doubt they will take it. I'd feel guilty about giving it to Scott or Chris...both of them doing so well with their weight, what with the mountain biking and all.
I have finished and posted my second assignment and now I must get my poem and letter to Bob, my brother, printed for his retirement book that Jennifer is putting together for him. Also have a few other little things I want to include. It's hard. I want to write something deep and philosophical but my mind feels so dried-up. It is hard to come up with something on demand. Every time I write something I feel as if I will not be able to squeeze another word out....
I find it hard to critique people's poems in class. I used to be good at it, I think. Now, I can't seem to break things up and look at the pieces. A piece of writing is an organic thing, a slice of one's soul. How dare I touch it with thoughts of change! That is not my soul on the paper. It is the soul of someone else who offered it to the rest of us to see. It is a gift. It is sacred. I cannot disturb it. I can only look at it and take it in as a beautiful revelation of someone's world. And when taken in, a part of mine too.
My back is telling me to get out of this chair. I think I will listen.
November 3, 1996 3:45 PM
losing balance
I have no patience with my bad back. Yesterday was a real bummer! Lay on a heating pad all day, until yesterday evening when we took the boys to Steak and Ale for three celebrations.....birthday, divorce, new job. I took my pillow and was able to sit through the meal, but not without discomfort.
But it isn't the pain that gets me down so much. It is the interruption of my life. I am at odds. Floundering. When I was younger, I adjusted easily to changing events in my life. I thought I always would. In school, I learned that when people get older they become more rigid ("set in their ways") and changes are harder for them. Not me, I thought. I like change. Well, guess what! I am there....and it is true! When my body stops working the way I want it to, I feel lost. It keeps telling me that I am not young anymore and it pleads with me to take care of it, but I don't listen. I don't want to know it. I keep acting as if I never had a birthday past 30. Or at least I try to.
When you get older and things and people start disappearing from your life, the last thing you can depend on is your body. When it starts going, it is devestating. Then, you have to admit it. You are there. There in that place you thought was so far ahead of you that it would be forever coming. I still wonder how I got here so fast.
I don't know the shape of my life anymore. Is the past really real? And who is this old person that sits here diarying with a back she is not familiar with? And what will happen next? The changes will happen. There is nothing I can do about that. What I have to deal with is my mortality. It's a grief that can't be spoken.
November 4, 1996 6:00 PM
Who Am I?
It is time to start answering that question. I watched myself today and I don't like what I see. A dear friend called, concerned because I hadn't written, hadn't answered emails. I feel bad. I have not treated him fairly. Why do I throw friends away as if they were dust on the floor? The layers around my soul are so thick, I doubt I will ever get an honest answer. There is probably a part of me that doesn't want to know. When I ask myself that question, there is always the fear, an uneasiness, a desire to put it on the shelf, to explore some other time.
But I lose friends that way. Time is running out. And I don't want to lose any more friends. I don't want to hurt anyone else either. And I want to respect myself and feel at home in my soul.
So where am I going with this? I don't know, really. I need to pay attention to that person who walks beside me and whispers in my ear so low I cannot hear her, but, yet, somehow, gets a message to me to be a non-person and to see others as non-persons too. I need to know what I am dealing with.
I tell myself that I am tired, I'll write tomorrow, I don't feel good, I have things to do. Is it inertia? Depression? Laziness? A bad attitude? God! It's probably all of those things, and more. Maybe the biggest thing of all is to prove to myself what a rotten person I am, to prove that all the things I've been told about myself by my family, and now by myself, are true. Or maybe it's because it feels like the end of the world....and nothing matters.
Bill, you must be very angry! And rightly so. But please don't go. Please don't go away! I will do better. But it isn't that simple. You know. There are all these voices from my past with false messages. So many battles have to be fought, these without armor.
So, I'm no closer to answering that question, who am I? But I am closer to the sincerity of the question. Stick with me Bill, Harriet, Betty, family, all, I want to be someone for you. I wish I could let you know how very important you are to me. Someday I will find not only the words, but the actions.
November 5, 1996
election day
This will be a short entry. I have a migraine today, in addition to the back pain, which is slowly getting better, but still incapacitating me to a great degree.
I did manage to get out to vote this morning and I will be watching the returns tonight. An interesting pasttime. Not that I believe in the vote of the people. I think everything has already been decided and we just go through this little ritual once every four years so we can think we have some power. Well, 'fraid not. My cynicism is showing today. This is a republican town and I am beginning to dislike the sight of elephants. We recently changed our license plates and the readers of the Daily News suposedly had the opportunity to suggest or vote for a design. Someone came up with a donkey....someone unnamed on the naming committee...and who appointed this committee anyway? I don't know anyone who voted for the donkey; in fact, many letters to the editor against such an image appeared in the paper when it was announced that it would be on our new license plates. I don't believe in the democratic system anymore. What I mean is I don't think it exists. Here in Missouri, we are going to drive through our town and through the country showing what jack-asses we are. So I hate the donkey too.
What we need is another party. It seems as if everything in life is political anymore. What happened to sincerity, honesty, and trustworthiness? Will we ever travel that circle back to when a man's sense of honor directs his actions? When it is more important to him than status, power or money? What happened to our sense of what is sacred in this life? I don't know, I'm in a bad mood. Better shut up now and try to get rid of this headache so I can entertain myself with the returns tonight.
November 6, 1996 7:50 PM
out of control!
Since yesterday noon, I have eaten four huge chocolate-chip cookies from the St. Louis Bread Company plus a few peanut-butter Twix! What is going on with me? Am I frustrated about my back keeping me from doing my usual things? Haven't walked on my treadmill, of course, since the back acted up. I don't know. I think it is more than that. A lot going on inside my head.
Things in class are not going well. Not the writing. It is the interpersonal relations. There is someone who has not critiqued any of my stories. She was gone and now she is back, rubbing up to everyone but me, it seems. And she has written out of class to someone else in class. Just a bunch of stuff like that. I get paranoid. Maybe it's nothing.....but I am pretty intuitive. I think it is something. And of course, it brings up my major issues....rejection, abandonment. I wish it didn't matter to me. I am trying to talk myself out of it mattering because I get a lot from the class....just being in it and having the pressure put on me to write. Plus the instructor is good. Why do these things fill me with fear? What does it matter that some faceless person in an on-line class ignores me?
Something more pressing tonight. Our third assignment. We are supposed to write a love letter to ourselves about someone or something. I chose Kenn, third son, estranged. Last night I got out old pictures of him....nostalgia time. This morning, I listened to tapes he suggested (when he was speaking to me). Lorena McKinnitt, track from Doors, Kate Bush, trying to hear in the music, maybe, something about him. He is so closed. And so lost to me. The last time I called him was last March to tell him mother died and when he learned it was me, he hung up. Forrest is the one he hates; why is he treating me this way? Last time we had a conversation, he told me to call after Forrest dies. That will never happen. I will die first. Longevity is in Forrest's genes. Will I never see Kenn again? Tonight, after looking at all the pictures and listening to his music, I felt connected and tried to call him. His number has been changed to an unlisted one. Now he is further away than ever. I am so depressed. I want so much to be a part of his life.
November 8, 1996 9:00 PM
bad news
Bob, my brother in Michigan, called and told me that Bud, my oldest brother, learned that his Cancer has returned....not in his lungs this time, but in a kidney. I am sad. And so scared for him. Evidently he doesn't want anyone to know. His daughter told another relative who told Bob. I think I understand how he feels.
I'm glad mother is not here to know about it. She would worry so. She did the last time, afraid she would live to see one of her children in the grave before she died. Well, mother, you won't have to go through that kind of grief, thank goodness.
So, here I sit, wanting to do something, but not even knowing if I should call and let him know that I am aware. I don't know. We were not a communative family. And when we did communicate, we never told each other the truth, how we really felt, what really happened. There were a lot of myths in our family, invented by mother and propagated by her. We each had specific personas and roles to play based on these myths of hers. And it is hard to break the habit.
But that is another story for another time. Tonight, I just take a breath for Bud, and pray to whoever is up there that he will get through it.
November 10, 1996 12:50 PM
too close
Just got back from having lunch at the Olive Garden. While we were there, the servers set up a long table next to us....at least 20 chairs long. A lovely family started coming in. I knew it had to be a celebration of some kind. As I sat, drinking my decaff, I looked out the window and saw a young teen-aged girl holding onto an old woman who had a corsage on her coat. The woman was having trouble walking and it was slow going. I knew the woman would appear at that table...and she did.
I notice, since mother died, I can't stop looking at old people. I just feast my eyes on them and wish I had another chance to do things right with my own mother. If she were here, I would take her out and take all the time she needed. I would say soothing things to her about her physical complaints and other worries. I would try to cheer her up. I would tell her I loved her more often and show it in all kinds of little ways.
I look at those young people and know that most of them can't appreciate the gift their mother/grandmothe truly is. You never know the extent of how wonderful someone or something is until you lose it.
When mother was alive, her needs were most often felt as an intrusion into my life, an inconvenience. Oh, occasionally, a little light would pop on and I could see beyond my own little things and get a glimpse of what she meant to me. But not for long. Soon, I would be caught up in my own things, putting off going to see her, calling her, thinking, tomorrow......Well, one day, tomorrow never arrives. That's how it happened. We were going to go to the Olive Garden for lunch...just the two of us. We never made that date. She loved the Olive Garden. Mother, today I had the angel hair with marinara sauce. It was good. It was for you.
November 11, 8:15AM
on my mind
I don't think of her up in the heavens somewhere, looking down from the clouds, or a formless energy alive in the universe. I think of her in a white box with carved roses on it, underground, in her pink two-piece dress, her mouth stretching even wider, her rosary still in her hands, her white hair intact, my message buried with her, still under her pillow. And I wonder if the creeping, crawling, slithering things of the earth have gotten to her yet. And my mind can't wrap around the image.
And I hear the wake-up call down the road. The sound is clearer and clear. We are all marching towards death. We anesthetize ourselves with the little details of our lives so as not to notice, but, folks, we are all in this parade. What difference does it make if we keep in step? It will end when it ends.
Every morning I wake in despair, then surprise and thanksgiving for the gift of another day, another bright morning, another chance. Learn lessons. Pass them on. And on. It seems so important. But, all of it is eventually buried under the sand.
I had better end this before I depress myself any more.
November 12, 1996 10:20 PM
Barbara Streisand and me
Yeah, we have something in common. A certain experience with our mothers. Her mother was critical of her and loved her sister more. Same here. These last few years Barbara has made peace with it and is developing the best relationship with her that she can. I did too and I am so glad. I would be devestated now if I hadn't. Her mother is 88. My mother would have been 88 this coming Christmas day.
I just saw Barbara interviewed by Barbara Walters on Nightline. In spite of her fame and fortune, she is a depressed person, lacks self-confidence (still!), and has spent many hours with a shrink.
You know, it would be a miracle if parents always did the right things with and for their children. We all suffer, I think, from the mistakes our parents made, but their mistakes and how we reacted to them are a blessing too. They have made us grow. It is true. Sometimes I look back at my own life, which feels rather tragic to me, but certainly low on a scale of tragedy, and I know I wouldn't have it any other way (well, maybe a change or two here and there, but basically, the same) because my experiences made me who I am. of course, there is a lot about me I don't like, but there are things I do like too. There was a lot to overcome and doing it made me stronger and sensitive to how others feel. And I am always in the process of trying to change what I don't like. Hard to do, and slow going.
And I know that my sons must have the same feelings about me as I did my mother. That is not very comforting. There were times I thought I hated her. And then there were the times I loved her so much I could hardly stand it. Such contradiction!
I've been thinking about her constantly for the past few days. I can't seem to let her go. Why now? She died eight months ago. I've felt the grief and sadness and regret and all those other feelings people go through when they lose someone special in their lives. But this is different. I keep going over things in my mind. Not things that happened between her and me. But things she told me about her own childhood and the things I witnessed myself as I was growing up, now putting a different perspective on them as I look at those past happenings from the viewpoint of someone who has matured and has more experience.
I feel so sorry for her. She spent her whole life searching for something she never found. And she was never happy.
Just like me.
November 14, 1996 8;30 PM
November 8, 1996 9:00 PM
bad news
I'm glad mother is not here to know about it. She would worry so. She did the last time, afraid she would live to see one of her children in the grave before she died. Well, mother, you won't have to go through that kind of grief, thank goodness.
So, here I sit, wanting to do something, but not even knowing if I should call and let him know that I am aware. I don't know. We were not a communative family. And when we did communicate, we never told each other the truth, how we really felt, what really happened. There were a lot of myths in our family, invented by mother and propagated by her. We each had specific personas and roles to play based on these myths of hers. And it is hard to break the habit.
But that is another story for another time. Tonight, I just take a breath for Bud, and pray to whoever is up there that he will get through it.
November 10, 1996 12:50 PM
too close
I notice, since mother died, I can't stop looking at old people. I just feast my eyes on them and wish I had another chance to do things right with my own mother. If she were here, I would take her out and take all the time she needed. I would say soothing things to her about her physical complaints and other worries. I would try to cheer her up. I would tell her I loved her more often and show it in all kinds of little ways.
I look at those young people and know that most of them can't appreciate the gift their mother/grandmothe truly is. You never know the extent of how wonderful someone or something is until you lose it.
When mother was alive, her needs were most often felt as an intrusion into my life, an inconvenience. Oh, occasionally, a little light would pop on and I could see beyond my own little things and get a glimpse of what she meant to me. But not for long. Soon, I would be caught up in my own things, putting off going to see her, calling her, thinking, tomorrow......Well, one day, tomorrow never arrives. That's how it happened. We were going to go to the Olive Garden for lunch...just the two of us. We never made that date. She loved the Olive Garden. Mother, today I had the angel hair with marinara sauce. It was good. It was for you.
November 11, 8:15AM
on my mind
And I hear the wake-up call down the road. The sound is clearer and clear. We are all marching towards death. We anesthetize ourselves with the little details of our lives so as not to notice, but, folks, we are all in this parade. What difference does it make if we keep in step? It will end when it ends.
Every morning I wake in despair, then surprise and thanksgiving for the gift of another day, another bright morning, another chance. Learn lessons. Pass them on. And on. It seems so important. But, all of it is eventually buried under the sand.
I had better end this before I depress myself any more.
November 12, 1996 10:20 PM
Barbara Streisand and me
Yeah, we have something in common. A certain experience with our mothers. Her mother was critical of her and loved her sister more. Same here. These last few years Barbara has made peace with it and is developing the best relationship with her that she can. I did too and I am so glad. I would be devestated now if I hadn't. Her mother is 88. My mother would have been 88 this coming Christmas day.
I just saw Barbara interviewed by Barbara Walters on Nightline. In spite of her fame and fortune, she is a depressed person, lacks self-confidence (still!), and has spent many hours with a shrink.
You know, it would be a miracle if parents always did the right things with and for their children. We all suffer, I think, from the mistakes our parents made, but their mistakes and how we reacted to them are a blessing too. They have made us grow. It is true. Sometimes I look back at my own life, which feels rather tragic to me, but certainly low on a scale of tragedy, and I know I wouldn't have it any other way (well, maybe a change or two here and there, but basically, the same) because my experiences made me who I am. of course, there is a lot about me I don't like, but there are things I do like too. There was a lot to overcome and doing it made me stronger and sensitive to how others feel. And I am always in the process of trying to change what I don't like. Hard to do, and slow going.
And I know that my sons must have the same feelings about me as I did my mother. That is not very comforting. There were times I thought I hated her. And then there were the times I loved her so much I could hardly stand it. Such contradiction!
I've been thinking about her constantly for the past few days. I can't seem to let her go. Why now? She died eight months ago. I've felt the grief and sadness and regret and all those other feelings people go through when they lose someone special in their lives. But this is different. I keep going over things in my mind. Not things that happened between her and me. But things she told me about her own childhood and the things I witnessed myself as I was growing up, now putting a different perspective on them as I look at those past happenings from the viewpoint of someone who has matured and has more experience.
I feel so sorry for her. She spent her whole life searching for something she never found. And she was never happy.
Just like me.
November 14, 1996 8;30 PM
wasted day
A migraine has been coming on for three days. Today it reached its peak, I hope. Spent the afternoon on the couch in my workroom with the light off, just nursing it.
So, I didn't get anything done for my on-line class. Actually, I am stuck. It seems such a simple assignment....write about a place, make it interesting. No people in the picture. Maybe it's just my headache, but I couldn't think about a place, let alone write about it. So I haven't put a word down on paper and the others will probably be sending theirs in at any time now. Oh, well, I'll work it out. I always do, somehow.
A dreary day. It's been raining for two days. Cold too. a sky full of blackbirds fell on us day before yesterday. All over the neighborhood, yards just moving black as far as the eye could see. They seem to have gone on now. Only a few scraglers left. The cardinals seem delighted they are gone. They are coming out in numbers now.
My lovely friend from Japan, michiko, sent pictures. The first time I have actually seen her. She is lovely! Has a beautiful soul too. She is happy with the Native American doll I sent her. I sent her an email tonight. She so loves getting mail. Well, I guess we all do.
So I guess the day wasn't entirely wasted. Only in relation to my course. Maybe tomorrow I'll feel like getting going and the muse will descend down upon me and just fill my head with all kinds of wonderful stuff to write about.
Yeah, sure!
November 15, 1996 9:30 PM
trying
An email from an old friend, a dear friend, got me thinking. He says we gotta' die sooner or later so my misery will be over eventually.
And I am reminded that this was to be a spiritual journey. Hopefully a way to rise to a higher level. The conflict is that all this other crap is in there. Especially the stuff about being old and knowing I have gone through the beginning and the middle and am now at the end. And mad at myself for not realizing that time was passing and opportunities along with them. But even stronger for me....afraid of not "being." Wanting to live forever.
Since I don't have any enlightening words of my own, I will quote a few lines from Rumi in "The Enlightened Heart," edited by Stephen Mitchell.
"I have lived on the lip
of insanity, wanting to know reasons,
knocking on a door. It opens.
I've been knocking from the inside!"
I must go through that door. I must pay attention.
Thank you, friend.
November 17, 1996 7:30 AM
gotta' be me
The difference is, my friend is still young and can't know about the devils of old age. Yes, I do want to know reasons. I want to know reasons. I want to know reasons. What kind of divine plan, where people think and feel and strive, then leave it all behind. What? You say, for the next generation? Welll,our sons and daughters, sisters and brothers just go on repeating the pattern. On and On. Doing the only things we humans can do on this earth, go on living until we die. And what sense can be made of it all? It's beyond me.
Bud, my brother, goes for surgery Wednesday to have a kidney removed. He is not in good shape. Just recovering from chemo and radiation for cancer of the lungs and now cancer in the kidney. I love him. I don't see him or talk with him very often. We live close by. We have good reasons. Always good reasons. Tomorrow, we say. See ya' later. Yeah. Later. Okay.
November 19, 1996 9:45 PM
time out
Bud has his kidney removed tomorrow morning early. I talked to him and Liz today. I told him I called Father Di Orio's place in Mass and had his name put into the prayer pool. Yesterday he talked for an hour and a half to Father Reidy and also to his doctor. They were planning on going in through the back but a cat-scan yesterday revealed an obstruction so they will be going in through the front. Nothing else much matters right now so I'll spare you, my readers, my agony. I haven't prayed so hard in a long time. I believe in the energy of prayer. So I call on all the gods and the angels and the saints and the spirits and all other mysterious entities to watch over my brother, keep him safe, and heal him in body and spirit. And I send him my love. My sister love. So until tomorrow, after the surgery, for him, and for his family (of which I am a part), the world stands still.
November 21, 1996 10:20 PM
Is it Thursday already?
I am so tired, I could easily forget my own name. Just don't want to stay away too long or it will become a habit.
I spent most of the day at the hospital yesterday. Bud was in surgery half the day. The doctor said it was among the four hardest surgeries he ever did but Bud is doing very well. The doctors are pleased about how well he responded to the surgery, but, ahead, there ae still hills to climb. A piece of his vena cava and a piece of his liver had to be snipped off but not enough to matter. They found two tumors. But there are still questions to be answered. Why was his white blood count high before surgery? What is the obstruction that prevented them from going through his back? What will the results of the biopsy be? Is it the old Cancer spreading....or is it a new one? Tomorrow we will know.
So many nice people sent their thoughts and prayers. Thanks to Father Di Oreo's congregation. To Elsajoy's group. To individuals on the internet, including one in this circle, to my fellow net students, everyone. Prayers mean so much to my brother. To me too, but for different reasons. I believe the energy that comes from a large number of people praying is healing; he believes that a God above hears all those prayers. But, I know who really got him through that surgery. Himself. He is strong, like our mother was. The prayers and good wishes helped in other ways.
Well, I have a feeling I am not making sense. I couldn't sleep last night, I was so pumped up . Now I am ready to call it a day.
November 24,1996 10:00 PM
fragmented
Yes, I am truly not all-together tonight. For two days I have been trying to find out what I am doing wrong on a new page I started that won't work right. It's like I am glued to this computer. Married to it. Can hardly leave to eat. I did do my exercise on the treadmill though. If I let it go one day, it will be too easy to let it go again. So I try to keep on top of that.
You, see, I start talking about one thing and go right into another topic. I just "went away" for awhile, I guess. Doesn't help that it's late either. I've really got to get some rest.
Bud found out that the Cancer is the same one metastasized. He will surely have to have more chemo. Cannot have any more radiation. But that is in the future. Today he is just happy to have all the tubes removed and to have some liquid and a little jello.
And I just feel numb about everything. Thinking too much about what is going on is too scary. It helps to go into that blank space where there is no writing on the wall. You just look at nothing and go on as if tomorrow is forever. It works, for awhile, at least.
Am I ever REALLY going to pick myself up and go down that spiritual path I say I want to go on? Or, is this, maybe it? If it is, it sure isn't the way I thought it would be. No music. No light in the attic. No answers. Just this numbness that keeps everything at a distance. And no energy left to want anything. Well, maybe tomorrow.......
November 27, 1996
things happening
Oh, wow! What an ice-storm we had Wednesday! Here in Springfield, all our local TV stations shut down. Limbs everywhere. Trees bent on their knees to the ground. Our power was off for awhile. And I didn't know what to do with myself. No www. No tv. So, I sat in the sunroom and watched the birds breaking the ice with their bills to get food. And such a gray sky! Very depressing. So much ice that it looks like it snowed. Treacherous on the roads. The sun has melted some of the ice but we still have a good amount. It was likebeing in a fairyland when we were out. Crystal limbs like statues in the sky.
Bud went home from the hospital today. Bob called to ask about him tonight. I'm afraid Bud has a big hill to climb yet, and I think he knows it. I am so sad for him. And I feel so helpless. I went to see him yesterday afternoon and stayed only a few minutes because talking made him cough.
This will be the first Thanksgiving without mother. Forrest got some photos back yesterday and there was a picture of her and me sitting in the wicker love-seat together. That picture was taken just a few weeks before she died. She looks so frail in the picture. I couldn't quit looking at it. And I can't get it out of my mind. I would just love to take her face in my hands and kiss her. God, how could I have been so careless with what little time I had left with her? I am learning over and over that chances are lost forever sometimes and I want to act as if they are everytime.
She loved Thanksgiving so much. I put my Thanksgiving poem on my poetry page in her memory.
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November 15, 1996 9:30 PM
trying
And I am reminded that this was to be a spiritual journey. Hopefully a way to rise to a higher level. The conflict is that all this other crap is in there. Especially the stuff about being old and knowing I have gone through the beginning and the middle and am now at the end. And mad at myself for not realizing that time was passing and opportunities along with them. But even stronger for me....afraid of not "being." Wanting to live forever.
Since I don't have any enlightening words of my own, I will quote a few lines from Rumi in "The Enlightened Heart," edited by Stephen Mitchell.
"I have lived on the lip
of insanity, wanting to know reasons,
knocking on a door. It opens.
I've been knocking from the inside!"
I must go through that door. I must pay attention.
Thank you, friend.
November 17, 1996 7:30 AM
gotta' be me
The difference is, my friend is still young and can't know about the devils of old age. Yes, I do want to know reasons. I want to know reasons. I want to know reasons. What kind of divine plan, where people think and feel and strive, then leave it all behind. What? You say, for the next generation? Welll,our sons and daughters, sisters and brothers just go on repeating the pattern. On and On. Doing the only things we humans can do on this earth, go on living until we die. And what sense can be made of it all? It's beyond me.
Bud, my brother, goes for surgery Wednesday to have a kidney removed. He is not in good shape. Just recovering from chemo and radiation for cancer of the lungs and now cancer in the kidney. I love him. I don't see him or talk with him very often. We live close by. We have good reasons. Always good reasons. Tomorrow, we say. See ya' later. Yeah. Later. Okay.
November 19, 1996 9:45 PM
time out
Bud has his kidney removed tomorrow morning early. I talked to him and Liz today. I told him I called Father Di Orio's place in Mass and had his name put into the prayer pool. Yesterday he talked for an hour and a half to Father Reidy and also to his doctor. They were planning on going in through the back but a cat-scan yesterday revealed an obstruction so they will be going in through the front. Nothing else much matters right now so I'll spare you, my readers, my agony. I haven't prayed so hard in a long time. I believe in the energy of prayer. So I call on all the gods and the angels and the saints and the spirits and all other mysterious entities to watch over my brother, keep him safe, and heal him in body and spirit. And I send him my love. My sister love. So until tomorrow, after the surgery, for him, and for his family (of which I am a part), the world stands still.
November 21, 1996 10:20 PM
Is it Thursday already?
I am so tired, I could easily forget my own name. Just don't want to stay away too long or it will become a habit.
I spent most of the day at the hospital yesterday. Bud was in surgery half the day. The doctor said it was among the four hardest surgeries he ever did but Bud is doing very well. The doctors are pleased about how well he responded to the surgery, but, ahead, there ae still hills to climb. A piece of his vena cava and a piece of his liver had to be snipped off but not enough to matter. They found two tumors. But there are still questions to be answered. Why was his white blood count high before surgery? What is the obstruction that prevented them from going through his back? What will the results of the biopsy be? Is it the old Cancer spreading....or is it a new one? Tomorrow we will know.
So many nice people sent their thoughts and prayers. Thanks to Father Di Oreo's congregation. To Elsajoy's group. To individuals on the internet, including one in this circle, to my fellow net students, everyone. Prayers mean so much to my brother. To me too, but for different reasons. I believe the energy that comes from a large number of people praying is healing; he believes that a God above hears all those prayers. But, I know who really got him through that surgery. Himself. He is strong, like our mother was. The prayers and good wishes helped in other ways.
Well, I have a feeling I am not making sense. I couldn't sleep last night, I was so pumped up . Now I am ready to call it a day.
November 24,1996 10:00 PM
fragmented
Yes, I am truly not all-together tonight. For two days I have been trying to find out what I am doing wrong on a new page I started that won't work right. It's like I am glued to this computer. Married to it. Can hardly leave to eat. I did do my exercise on the treadmill though. If I let it go one day, it will be too easy to let it go again. So I try to keep on top of that.
You, see, I start talking about one thing and go right into another topic. I just "went away" for awhile, I guess. Doesn't help that it's late either. I've really got to get some rest.
Bud found out that the Cancer is the same one metastasized. He will surely have to have more chemo. Cannot have any more radiation. But that is in the future. Today he is just happy to have all the tubes removed and to have some liquid and a little jello.
And I just feel numb about everything. Thinking too much about what is going on is too scary. It helps to go into that blank space where there is no writing on the wall. You just look at nothing and go on as if tomorrow is forever. It works, for awhile, at least.
Am I ever REALLY going to pick myself up and go down that spiritual path I say I want to go on? Or, is this, maybe it? If it is, it sure isn't the way I thought it would be. No music. No light in the attic. No answers. Just this numbness that keeps everything at a distance. And no energy left to want anything. Well, maybe tomorrow.......
November 27, 1996
things happening
Oh, wow! What an ice-storm we had Wednesday! Here in Springfield, all our local TV stations shut down. Limbs everywhere. Trees bent on their knees to the ground. Our power was off for awhile. And I didn't know what to do with myself. No www. No tv. So, I sat in the sunroom and watched the birds breaking the ice with their bills to get food. And such a gray sky! Very depressing. So much ice that it looks like it snowed. Treacherous on the roads. The sun has melted some of the ice but we still have a good amount. It was likebeing in a fairyland when we were out. Crystal limbs like statues in the sky.
Bud went home from the hospital today. Bob called to ask about him tonight. I'm afraid Bud has a big hill to climb yet, and I think he knows it. I am so sad for him. And I feel so helpless. I went to see him yesterday afternoon and stayed only a few minutes because talking made him cough.
This will be the first Thanksgiving without mother. Forrest got some photos back yesterday and there was a picture of her and me sitting in the wicker love-seat together. That picture was taken just a few weeks before she died. She looks so frail in the picture. I couldn't quit looking at it. And I can't get it out of my mind. I would just love to take her face in my hands and kiss her. God, how could I have been so careless with what little time I had left with her? I am learning over and over that chances are lost forever sometimes and I want to act as if they are everytime.
She loved Thanksgiving so much. I put my Thanksgiving poem on my poetry page in her memory.
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November 19, 1996 9:45 PM
time out
November 21, 1996 10:20 PM
Is it Thursday already?
I am so tired, I could easily forget my own name. Just don't want to stay away too long or it will become a habit.
I spent most of the day at the hospital yesterday. Bud was in surgery half the day. The doctor said it was among the four hardest surgeries he ever did but Bud is doing very well. The doctors are pleased about how well he responded to the surgery, but, ahead, there ae still hills to climb. A piece of his vena cava and a piece of his liver had to be snipped off but not enough to matter. They found two tumors. But there are still questions to be answered. Why was his white blood count high before surgery? What is the obstruction that prevented them from going through his back? What will the results of the biopsy be? Is it the old Cancer spreading....or is it a new one? Tomorrow we will know.
So many nice people sent their thoughts and prayers. Thanks to Father Di Oreo's congregation. To Elsajoy's group. To individuals on the internet, including one in this circle, to my fellow net students, everyone. Prayers mean so much to my brother. To me too, but for different reasons. I believe the energy that comes from a large number of people praying is healing; he believes that a God above hears all those prayers. But, I know who really got him through that surgery. Himself. He is strong, like our mother was. The prayers and good wishes helped in other ways.
Well, I have a feeling I am not making sense. I couldn't sleep last night, I was so pumped up . Now I am ready to call it a day.
November 24,1996 10:00 PM
fragmented
Yes, I am truly not all-together tonight. For two days I have been trying to find out what I am doing wrong on a new page I started that won't work right. It's like I am glued to this computer. Married to it. Can hardly leave to eat. I did do my exercise on the treadmill though. If I let it go one day, it will be too easy to let it go again. So I try to keep on top of that.
You, see, I start talking about one thing and go right into another topic. I just "went away" for awhile, I guess. Doesn't help that it's late either. I've really got to get some rest.
Bud found out that the Cancer is the same one metastasized. He will surely have to have more chemo. Cannot have any more radiation. But that is in the future. Today he is just happy to have all the tubes removed and to have some liquid and a little jello.
And I just feel numb about everything. Thinking too much about what is going on is too scary. It helps to go into that blank space where there is no writing on the wall. You just look at nothing and go on as if tomorrow is forever. It works, for awhile, at least.
Am I ever REALLY going to pick myself up and go down that spiritual path I say I want to go on? Or, is this, maybe it? If it is, it sure isn't the way I thought it would be. No music. No light in the attic. No answers. Just this numbness that keeps everything at a distance. And no energy left to want anything. Well, maybe tomorrow.......
November 27, 1996
things happening
Oh, wow! What an ice-storm we had Wednesday! Here in Springfield, all our local TV stations shut down. Limbs everywhere. Trees bent on their knees to the ground. Our power was off for awhile. And I didn't know what to do with myself. No www. No tv. So, I sat in the sunroom and watched the birds breaking the ice with their bills to get food. And such a gray sky! Very depressing. So much ice that it looks like it snowed. Treacherous on the roads. The sun has melted some of the ice but we still have a good amount. It was likebeing in a fairyland when we were out. Crystal limbs like statues in the sky.
Bud went home from the hospital today. Bob called to ask about him tonight. I'm afraid Bud has a big hill to climb yet, and I think he knows it. I am so sad for him. And I feel so helpless. I went to see him yesterday afternoon and stayed only a few minutes because talking made him cough.
This will be the first Thanksgiving without mother. Forrest got some photos back yesterday and there was a picture of her and me sitting in the wicker love-seat together. That picture was taken just a few weeks before she died. She looks so frail in the picture. I couldn't quit looking at it. And I can't get it out of my mind. I would just love to take her face in my hands and kiss her. God, how could I have been so careless with what little time I had left with her? I am learning over and over that chances are lost forever sometimes and I want to act as if they are everytime.
She loved Thanksgiving so much. I put my Thanksgiving poem on my poetry page in her memory.
back
Are You Lonesome Tonight
This page hosted by
Get your ownFree Home Page!
Page created by:
misong@ix.netcom.com
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back
November 24,1996 10:00 PM
fragmented
You, see, I start talking about one thing and go right into another topic. I just "went away" for awhile, I guess. Doesn't help that it's late either. I've really got to get some rest.
Bud found out that the Cancer is the same one metastasized. He will surely have to have more chemo. Cannot have any more radiation. But that is in the future. Today he is just happy to have all the tubes removed and to have some liquid and a little jello.
And I just feel numb about everything. Thinking too much about what is going on is too scary. It helps to go into that blank space where there is no writing on the wall. You just look at nothing and go on as if tomorrow is forever. It works, for awhile, at least.
Am I ever REALLY going to pick myself up and go down that spiritual path I say I want to go on? Or, is this, maybe it? If it is, it sure isn't the way I thought it would be. No music. No light in the attic. No answers. Just this numbness that keeps everything at a distance. And no energy left to want anything. Well, maybe tomorrow.......
November 27, 1996
things happening
Oh, wow! What an ice-storm we had Wednesday! Here in Springfield, all our local TV stations shut down. Limbs everywhere. Trees bent on their knees to the ground. Our power was off for awhile. And I didn't know what to do with myself. No www. No tv. So, I sat in the sunroom and watched the birds breaking the ice with their bills to get food. And such a gray sky! Very depressing. So much ice that it looks like it snowed. Treacherous on the roads. The sun has melted some of the ice but we still have a good amount. It was likebeing in a fairyland when we were out. Crystal limbs like statues in the sky.
Bud went home from the hospital today. Bob called to ask about him tonight. I'm afraid Bud has a big hill to climb yet, and I think he knows it. I am so sad for him. And I feel so helpless. I went to see him yesterday afternoon and stayed only a few minutes because talking made him cough.
This will be the first Thanksgiving without mother. Forrest got some photos back yesterday and there was a picture of her and me sitting in the wicker love-seat together. That picture was taken just a few weeks before she died. She looks so frail in the picture. I couldn't quit looking at it. And I can't get it out of my mind. I would just love to take her face in my hands and kiss her. God, how could I have been so careless with what little time I had left with her? I am learning over and over that chances are lost forever sometimes and I want to act as if they are everytime.
She loved Thanksgiving so much. I put my Thanksgiving poem on my poetry page in her memory.
back
Are You Lonesome Tonight
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Get your ownFree Home Page!
Page created by:
misong@ix.netcom.com
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 |
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