Just another weekend

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I had an unusual day on Saturday. It started later than I wanted because mum wasn’t feeling good and it was really cold. I hate leaving mum when she’s not feeling very good. I’m so afraid she’ll do something stupid and I’ll come home and find her crumpled up. Anyway, I did finally leave and had to stop and get me a new diet Pepsi. The one I’d left in the car was frozen solid! (I had thought about removing it on Friday, but I had also planned on taking JL out one more time to help dump the recycles she helped me get in the car.) I got the mail, spoke with one of the gals about going someplace by ourselves when this is all over (her SO is in horrible shape. I really wish everyone had mum’s genes), and then did the recycles. Then, I went to get mum’s paperwork for the pain doctor. (that stuff is so confusing!!!!!!)

On my way over to Soldotna, I saw a lovely tall and not adequately dressed woman walking along the highway. Not even on the snowy bike path. I wondered where she was going. On my way back to Kenai, I saw her again. I decided if there was a break in traffic, I’d turn around and get her. Immediately there was a break and I was able to get turned around. I pulled up in front of her and she gladly got in (it was 22 degrees F). It appeared she was on her way to Anchorage. Which was more than 180 miles in the other direction. She was crushed. I was going to take her as far as I could and she asked me to take her to a different spot. It appeared she’d argued with her boyfriend and she left to cool off. (I must admit, I did tell her she was probably cool enough by now!) So, I drove down a road I’d never been on to a private subdivision with no gate, thankfully! I did ask her if I was going to get shot and she said her boyfriend (who was a guide of some sort) didn’t have guns. I remained nervous. (Even my mom had guns in the house, not that she could get to them, but they were there. They are gone now.) I finally delivered her and left the area. I also told her if she was going to leave again, Anchorage was the other direction. And then she’d see signs. (She had walked a bit less than 5 miles the wrong way)

My next stop was back in town where I hung out for a bit to house elf. I also had a glass of wine. I hope I didn’t mess it up when I opened it!!! It was lovely, but I think it would have been nicer if I had savored it instead of drinking it as I worked. I was there for not near as long as I wanted, but decided to show you what a modern US house elf looks like! See, no tea cloth. But, I do use a broom. On the floor!

Managed to shop and get back home to mum before 6. She was working on something with the sewing machine and being very unhappy cuz her machine wasn’t sewing properly. I know this can be true, but I’m pretty sure it was something mom should not have tried. She just cannot do the things she used to. I am not sure, but I think she is making herself a jacket. She stopped knitting the sweater she was making for herself. I later got texts from Katydid and one from The Craftsman. I also thought of one reason my back aches so much. Mum’s car (an old Pacifica mini van thing) has seats that you fold yourself into. Every time I sit in the front seats, I can feel my innards getting all squished. When you don’t sit up straight, your body gets used to being crumpled and it is not good for posture or body parts. When sharing this with a friend, it was suggested I get a small pillow. (I have some VERY smart friends.)

Today I wrote to my doctor in the states. I may get to see her, but if I don’t, at least she’ll have a novel to read on ‘how I’m doing’. I also found out today, the lab I visit is open on Saturdays. So, I could leave next Friday and still have labs done on Saturday. If mum’s doctor can get PET scan results from ANC to his office in less than two days, I am sure simple blood work can go less than that far! Mum had some more crazy blood sugars today. She checked and was 70 at lunch time. So, she had an Ensure and a mini croissant. Her glucose was 443 at dinner time. I am not buying she only had those two items. She’s been sleeping a lot today, in between football playoffs. As a Viking fan, she was very annoyed. Thankfully, Minnesota hockey did much better the day before! When I told her how the US Men’s Hockey team GM died in his sleep, she said she should go that way. (It would be better than how daddy died. Having lungs that were like charcoal from years of smoking is horrible. I’m always proud of friends who stop smoking. It really is a terrible thing to do to your body.)

I leave you with this thought from some of my favorite authors, Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory, “One may have all that one needs, and still not have all that one desires.”

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Two halves

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While communicating with a good friend, the phrase ‘the other half’ popped up. The two words intrigued me. (it is a math sort of thing, so bear with me—not bare, Keith! Sheesh.) OK, if I have half a cup of something and add another half of a cup, I logically get a whole cup (not doing liquid measures, those things can really throw off measurements!). All across the world halves exist and when paired with another half of the same kind, become a whole. It is symmetry and algebra and fractions. (An absolute muddle to someone who can muss up basic math at the drop of a prime number.)

With people, the halves to a whole make a better unit. The two shall be one sort of theme. It is romantic and annoying. I recall the scene in the second Princess Diaries where Mia makes the statement that her grandma didn’t need a man to help her rule a country, so why should she. She was right, but it is the way the world turns. Getting away from being a singular half seems to be a premise of many Christian colleges (that MR or MRS degree is hugely popular among coeds mingling on a campus), parents and media everywhere. Tradition is an irritating thing! (Cue, Tevye on youtube.)

My mind flitted all over the place with these thoughts. It is a rather fascinating phrase to mull over while driving on icy winter roads.

One thing my butterfly brain touched on was how important it is for a person to be complete within themselves before contemplating joining with another. I remember my own wedding day. As the last words in the ceremony were spoken, I heard the silent panic stricken voice of Kris cry out, ‘what are you doing????’ I was a vulnerable and young single who had no clue what it meant to be myself. I wasn’t ready to be a serious couple or a mom. Life’s road had many exits and this was where I chose to go. It was best at the time.

I then thought of things I’d cut apart which were whole and made into halves. Some of those things may have been halves of a unit, but they were the strangest looking halves ever! How odd is it two totally misshapen things can join to make a whole! Kind of like Jack Sprat and his wife, I guess. (I reckon this is where the words ‘better half’ come from.)

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Then, I wandered over to the place where two halves make nothing more than a hole. (am I digging too deep with this one?) I grew up in a Swiss cheese family. One of those where every slice was nothing more than a piece full of holes. No matter how many halves mum seemed to find, it wasn’t right. I’m not even sure how my daddy managed to stay with her for so long. I do know he was the one adult who made my fractured childhood more complete. Even if I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time.

As I look at my life right now, I don’t see myself as being a part of a half. Not even that misshapen one. It think where I am needs more contemplation while driving. (thinking in most other places leads to naps.) I hope the roads I end up on are not treacherous, but I promise to pay close attention!

Planned Friday

My niece was with me on Friday. I had wanted some help with a few things and my sister said she could visit. I should have realized how odd it was going to be when my sister was driving and texting. (I am pretty sure she was doing it, she may have had her daughter texting, I’m not entirely positive, though.) They arrived at the pool late, Jake told me my niece couldn’t have a hamburger for lunch, she could have chicken strips. I asked why and was told she’d eaten something already and chicken strips would last all day without getting yucky. I did a couple of errands, we stopped to get our lunches, and I found out it was my sister who made the decision and my almost 13 year old niece had no say. She still did what her mom said (It was more than the two burgers I purchased…I love 5 dollar meals!) and decided they were too spicy with pepper! She was really hungry and wished she had gotten a burger.

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We also decided her mom and my mom were really similar in many ways. Both are bossy and often cranky. (I reminded JL this was between us and not to tell her mom!) JL had apologized for her mom being late earlier and I saw myself. I wanted to cry. I told her I was way more laid back and waiting was a good time to read. While we waited for our meals at the store, we read. I think she was surprised with her easy aunt!

Once at the house, we all ate, and then I attempted to get the kid to help with a bunch of chores I had ready. We moved all the recycling stuff to mum’s car, I had her use mom’s washing machine and dryer (wash and wear does not encourage separation of colors. I was also annoyed I had not noticed mum had stains on lots of things until they were pulled from the dryer.), and I managed to get most of the chores I had set aside for us to do done. By myself.

JL is taller than me, so I asked if she would scrub some spots off the ceiling in my bathroom. She did, halfheartedly. Granted it wasn’t the most fun thing in the world and I let her go after a bit. While I finished the job, I thought of one of my aunts. Aunt L, when I was about 10, had me wash dishes for her. I had to wash and dry her silverware twice because I didn’t do it right and there were spots. I realized how different we treat kids today. I let my niece slide on the job because she felt it was too hard and boring. I felt my aunt looming and vowed to not let that happen again.

While JL was folding clothes, I made her refold a few things and showed her how to fold shirts. I also told her about socks and balling them up. She is of my family, we ball up socks to keep them together. I learned last year that balling up socks makes them loose around your ankles. JL was very impressed with the how to fold a shirt with arms, but didn’t seem to think the socks were a problem. (She’ll get there eventually and I felt my aunt’s approval as JL wended her way up the stairs with mum’s folded laundry.)

I wanted help with the stairs. I needed to vacuum them and they are STEEP! I also decided to trim the fringes Mittens has made…and then I opted to stop. I wasn’t sure my snipping off the raveled bits would be worse in the long run! Having the stair carpeted is dangerous, having it plain wood is almost worse. I’ve slipped more often when there wasn’t a covering than when there was. When Strider and Princess (his cousin who is the exact same age, minus a couple of months) were about 7, they wore motorcycle helmets and slid down the stairs on a bean bag. I wish I had taken a photo. Needless to say, mum was busy with JL and I ended up doing the stairs alone. Very carefully!!

That was pretty much most of my day. I had several things I wanted to get done and mum decided she needed to do things as well. I figured I should let them be. I can do the other chores on my own. She’s annoyed with me anyway. Mum is. She left her dog outside way longer than I thought she should with the cold. I could hear him barking and barking and wondered if she was sleeping. Nope, she just left him outside. She was given a photo of Princess and her husband and when I saw it I reminded her she’d seen it before. She said she hadn’t. I got my ipad and showed her the photo in a series she had seen in August. Of course, it was my fault and she had not forgotten. I fell asleep in the early evening and mum put away the dishwasher. (It is one you need to roll across to the sink and back. It is very heavy and I try to not have her do that.) She forgot her last shot for over an hour and a half.  I decided I don’t care tonight.

I could be in the states next weekend or maybe, if I’m still in AK, I will drive down the Peninsula and go watch dogs race. I’ve always wanted to and last year I couldn’t.  Meanwhile, there are always sunrises to lift and light the ring of fire around us. (photo is from Thursday morning.)

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Thirty years later–

Fun Medical MGD©

Being a person with Diabetes, you watch new developments and are excited when positive strides are made in care. Yet, how much has really changed? When I was first diagnosed in 1983, my Alaskan doctor insisted that I check my glucose with urine strips. I used syringes and bottles filled with insulin made from purified pork. Today, I use blood to check my glucose and my bottled insulin is synthetic. I still use a syringe. (I use small needles, it is only the blood draws and larger ones which knock me over. And lots of blood. Not little jabs..)

There are many different modes of delivery today. Insulin pumps are popular and come in different types. Insulin comes in pens, also of different kinds. Meters now talk to pumps and there are monitors for when your sugars drop too low. Yet, there is one thing that is exactly the same as it used to be. Expense.

My main test meter is well under 20 dollars. The strips for that ‘good’ meter my doctor prefers are around 43 dollars on Amazon for 50 strips. (I am supposed to test 5 times a day) The meter I use the most up here in AK was very cheap, the strips are I think 20 dollars for 100. But, those the doctor doesn’t feel are as accurate (I do add 7 to every test, as the ‘good’ strips seem to run a bit higher. Seven is about the average). The One Touch meter will also ‘talk’ to the doctor and give her a reading of all the recordings for several weeks. Most meters do this now, but as I said, she prefers the One Touch. She also prefers BD pen tips for the insulin pens and BD syringes. So do I. Unfortunately, my insurance doesn’t. So, I get a less expensive brand which don’t work as well.

Insurance obviously only covers a portion of the drugs. I paid over 500 dollars this month for mom’s insulin pens on hers(that will drop as we meet the deductible). My 4 bottles of insulin were 150 dollars this week. That price doesn’t change during the year. Each bottle is about 40 dollars with insurance. Thankfully, the fancy long acting syringes are on a ‘trial’ sort of savings plan. Otherwise, they’d run for about 500. And the insurance won’t cover those as they are too new. I don’t remember what the price is with insurance for my test strips. (The Craftsman picks them up for me in Oregon-he was going to send me a couple of canisters so I’d have results on my meter for my doctor since I didn’t manage to get to the states this last week. But, he hasn’t yet and now it is too late. If I go, I need to leave in the next few days.)

The insulin pumps are also super expensive. I talked to a gal who worked in an insurance company when I was researching getting a pump. She mentioned she wasn’t using hers at the moment, she couldn’t afford to! The pump I liked the best (it was an Omnipod) wasn’t covered by my insurance either. It was not the approved pump! Insurance companies are very picky about what they cover and also very expensive. I think they also have a hand in what things are created for health care. I had, ages ago, a super cool glucose meter which had some sort of testing mechanism in it. Every 30 days I had to replace the tiny piece, which was fairly inexpensive. The best part was, I could have unlimited testing during that 30 days. I loved that machine and used it for probably 4 months. And then it was recalled and I’ve never seen anything like it again. I still have the box in Oregon-to prove such a thing existed!

It is frustrating how the methods of Diabetes care have improved and changed and yet the expense has remained the same or gotten higher. The knowledge of being a financial drain is always on my mind. I absolutely hate knowing how much money we spend to keep me alive. I hate how we don’t have the monies to go to the dentist or for me to get new glasses (the eye doctor is covered under the insurance because they write it up as Diabetes care, the glasses are not) because of the costs in keeping me mostly healthy. It is funny how people think those latter sorts of things are a right, it is a privilege. Especially, in a normal ordinary middle class family who has a person with Diabetes living in it.

how long is this month?

This particular week has been ridiculous. Mum won’t be seeing the pain doctor we thought she might, that one isn’t accepting any more medicare patients. Stupid. So, now we wait to see if we can get her in somewhere else. In one week I need to be in Oregon in order to have labs done for my appointment on the 29th. I think I might end up canceling that appointment. I’ll wait a few more days first.

Mum went out on Wednesday afternoon. She used to be on the board for the nearby senior center and went to a meeting for the first time in more than a year. She was absolutely exhausted when she returned, in tons of pain, but she enjoyed herself. She brought home a lovely soft roll of sourdough bread (which went very well with the chicken soup I made. I make a VERY good chicken soup, not many people have tasted it, but I think it is yummy!) and a package of cinnamon rolls covered in maple frosting. Thankfully, I am cautious when it comes to treats like those. I’d eat many if I could. She said she wasn’t fond of them, but I noticed this morning (Thursday) there are more than the half of one I ate missing!

I purchased another box of 10 fittings this month. Mum’s already had to open them. She’s not tracking well, but I am told that is my imagination. She’s been putting puzzles together and tossing out ones with pieces missing. Unfortunately, many times there are pieces on the floor after she’s done them. I went to the newspaper place and the person in charge of deliveries said he’ll talk to the guy tossing them in the drive. It was also brought to my attention I should probably move the box to the other side of the driveway.  A task which will NOT be easy for this short person with few muscles. The box has been where it is for at least more than a few years, you would think someone would have mentioned it wasn’t right! (I’ll wait til the ground is softer, first.) Maybe I’ll just install a net……

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I have errands again today, so I had better get moving! Have a great day out there in your worlds and if you feel like someone is near you, it just might be me!!!!

Hugs and kisses!

I am…..

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I sent The Craftsman an email this week with 10 short paragraphs of things I appreciated about him. He sent me a text to tell me he read it and liked it. So, I decided to write something up for myself. Granted, mine will be a bit harsh. We are always our most difficult critics. The book I read at the end of last year was a great help, I do remember what was in it, even if it seems I don’t! Also, if I ever get that Christmas gift certificate from Amazon from my kid, I’ll probably buy it. (I reckon I’ll get the certificate for my birthday. It saves on presents if you don’t send them til all the holidays are past!)

I am a servant. (I think this word defines me best) I am invisible. I am a filler (as in that really cool stuff you spray from a can and it expands and makes a mess and gets everywhere and you need to trim it to fit and if you get it on your hands, woe to  you!). I see myself as that sort of filler because I appear to be useful in certain places (that spray stuff does not work in wet areas) and I need taken to task to stay in my place! I am useful (oh, I said that!). I am responsible and stay behind the scenes. (I can be on stage or in a place where I am the focal point, if needed.) I think I am best at being kept away, though.

Physically, I am short and more than chubby (just ask my mom or my doctor!). I have thinning silvery brown hair that is always a mess (I don’t visit salons, it is too expensive!) with glasses which need updated someday. If you look at those fruits one is supposed to resemble, I am of the pear variety. The kind of pear which the picker plucks from the tree and says how in the heck am I supposed to pack this in a box????? I used to think my breasts were of the Skipper doll size, I am getting more fond of them as time goes on. They are rather small, but they are mine and I find them enjoyable. I look best with makeup, which I don’t wear cuz I am too lazy. I have a cute nose.

Inside myself I am whiny, not as unhappy as I used to be (thank goodness!!!), lonely almost all the time, easy to intimidate, I have a low self-esteem, and I am easy to tell what to do (I may not do it, but people are always telling me what to do, they are generally right!). I tend to be a door mat (They are an entirely useful piece in the house and when not in place, things tend to get tracked in and make a mess) or a Boston Fern (houseplant which provides air and aesthetics, gets watered once a week, is moved to different locales for sunshine, and is nibbled on by cats). I used to compare myself to others til I realized there is no comparison. Anything I can do anyone else can do better and that is just the way it is!!!

I am sarcastic (I tried to stop this, it isn’t really nice to be sarcastic. I hope I point it to myself more than others. It can really hurt when it is used on someone else.). I am a very fast reader. I like to scribble thoughts, words, ideas, run on sentences, and fictional scenes. I have a fairly vivid imagination. I enjoy cooking and baking. I am fascinated by the world around me, it is full of so many amazing wonderful things! I’m entirely thankful for the internet to allow me to travel outside my sphere. (When I was an early 20 something and visited Seoul, I was so excited by the experiences I was seeing. I am sad I’ve never had the chance to go anywhere again. But, the internet takes me to palm trees and glaciers and markets on obscure side streets and oceans in foreign and US lands. Hooray for the world wide web!) I have a quirky sense of humor. I do not like to spend money. I love books. I like to think I can kiss well. I enjoy making people laugh and feel good. I hope I am friendly. I try not to cry (as one of my good friends once told me, it doesn’t solve anything) and if I do, it is for a short time. I do know how to think (generally) and am not entirely afraid of new ideas. I love flowers and dangly earrings and books (I already mentioned books, but in case anyone missed it….). I enjoy people. I like to be taken care of, I enjoy being pampered (I recall a date I went on last Feb. I think that was the first time I’d been on an actual date where I dressed up a bit and went someplace different since the lunch I asked The Craftsman to take me on the previous Feb. when we took the Mercury in to the Oregon DMV. I have been out other times, I went out for non-dress up dinners the November mum was in the hospital a couple of times. Absolutely wonderful good memories.). I am not afraid to let someone else open the door for me. I am not always afraid to ask people for help, as long as I’m not a bother.

I am a person with Diabetes (I am NOT a Diabetic. I am not defined by my disease.). I also have other health problems which are very expensive and frustrating to live with. (I absolutely hate being a drain on finances in order to be kept alive.) I do not like needles (yeah, insulin dependent and afraid of sharp pointed things. Crazy!) and often almost pass out when confronted with them. (I’m told it is all in my head. Which is about the most annoying thing a person can tell another.)

In retrospect, I believe I am a very useful person in several spots. (those spots are purple in color, by the by, and not contagious!)

Unimpressed Cat Nips

An hour sitting with a pretty girl on a park bench passes like a minute, but a minute sitting on a hot stove seems like an hour. ~Albert Einstein (relativity)

(or on a cold railing!)

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Years past, the part of Oregon where I live used to get a lot of snow. Now, it appears now and then. I’m always much more excited than anyone else in the house. I do love watching it pile up on railings and tree limbs, tramping outside in falling flakes, and making snow people. It is always difficult to keep the cats inside, even with bad weather. Moses needs to go outside and make sure everything is where it should be. His whiskers are attuned to catlike vibes in the neighborhood and as chief bully, it is his job to oversee it all.

Maxwell, he prefers to be inside. Unless he needs to go to the bathroom. There are 3 litterboxes in the house for the three cats. Maxwell hates to use any of them and would rather go outside somewhere. Probably because Kilala tends to ambush him as he exits any of the boxes. There are two covered and one uncovered, it doesn’t matter. Kila jumps at him. I can imagine it must be incredibly disconcerting to be jumped on when leaving a bathroom facility. I can imagine it makes Max nervous to even use it, knowing at any second he’ll be attacked by a younger heavier clueless cat. Thus, he demands to leave the house. Knowing the dynamics between the cats, we let him leave. When it is nasty, I am reluctant, but knowing the stress involved, I do it. He can usually open the cat door when it is locked during the day (Maxwell and Moses go in and out, Kilala isn’t smart enough to be outside alone, so during the day, we lock the cat door to keep Kila inside), but he does not like wading thru snow on the sidewalk to reach the thing. He is a patient kitty. He generally jumps up on the porch railing and waits for someone to open the door. (Moses scratches the heck out of it to remind us he’s outside. Max is more genteel, emitting a polite meow now and then.)

Once inside, he runs quickly to the master bedroom, where he tidies his fur and curls up in polar fleece to sleep til his next foray out in the wintery world.

Home?

Home is a crazy word. I’ve been thinking a great deal about it lately. When people ask me if I am going to go home, I tell them I am home. But, I’d like to go back to Oregon. I miss my family, the cats, and my house. I love the yard and the quirky bits in the building (there is a cabinet in the laundry room. It is about 3 feet tall and about the same wide. It is about the depth of one of my hands. It serves absolutely NO purpose and has handles and opens into a wall. I asked The Craftsman to leave it when we were discussing remodeling, because it was so random!). I was told by many people how it is only a house til it is a home. There are phrases about how home is where the heart is and lyrics about going home. (This totally dates me, but I started humming ‘Country Roads’ by John Denver!) Books about returning home and scriptures about home. Many animals migrate or have some kind of whatever to make them go back to where they belong (homing pigeons). It is truly an interesting meeting of 4 letters.

Alaska has always been my soul’s home. Every single time I fly away, I cry. The minute the plane leaves the soil, I become a watering pot. When I fly off the Peninsula, it hurts. When I leave the tarmac in ANC, there is a wrench I can feel deep inside. I’ve been told this is silly and I can live anywhere and that thinking I feel a break with Alaska is a (pun!) flight of fancy. When we flew north for mum’s scan, I didn’t drip one single tear. I was surprised until I realized, I wasn’t leaving. I would be returning in a few hours.

When I got my tattoo, it was for Alaska (I’ve written about that before in here somewhere, so no need to waffle on about that particular topic!). I don’t think I’d get one for Oregon, even if I have lived there longer. This place is in my blood. I may not have been born here, but I belong. This state is so big, I’ve seen just a tiny portion of it, yet, Alaska is my happy place.

It seems crazy to believe I’m not ‘home’ wherever my family is. I don’t think I’ve ever been around a person who was my home. There are people I gain a great deal of comfort from, people I am addicted to being around, and people I find joy in. However, in my world, people are not a constant. They cannot be relied on all the time. (probably cuz I’m not easy to be at home with!) They won’t last. There is a fluidity in humanity. (This is actually a good thing, stagnant friends smell funny!) Our society has escaped the confines of small and are scattered across the globe. Often people return home, only to relocate sometime later.

By all rights, my home should be Oregon. I was born in MN, but we only lived there til I was 5. I don’t count those first few years, especially since I can barely remember them! I’ve resided in Oregon for decades. The coast was my favorite place, I’m glad we lived there for 17 years. Our house was between steep hills on the banks of a river. It was almost like being in AK at times. I’ve never liked Eastern Or. I’ve tried to like it (I’ve been told I should try harder) and I do like many parts of it. When it comes down to it, it is not my home.

I would like to go back, though. There are many things which need addressed down there. Things of the body, soul, and spirit. Rootlets which need trimmed or confined in a different manner. Oregon is a good place to grow. It was great for my kids, but I’ll continue to be a transplant.

I’m curious about other thoughts on home. Pass them on, please!

Stay off the River

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For being bossy and irritating and a know it all, my sister is on a different tributary of mum’s river called De Nile. I called her this morning because I’d forgotten I’d not talked to her since her aborted call last week. (The one where she told me she couldn’t talk to me cuz it was really windy and she needed both hands.) I had updated mum’s caring bridge page and figured I’d better talk to my sister before someone talked to HER about mum! So, I called.

Do you know what she asked me???? ‘Do you think any of this is hereditary?’ I blinked and laughed and asked her what did she mean? She then restated her question and asked if pancreatic cancer was hereditary. I said probably not, but diabetes was most definitely. She then remarked how grandma died of breast cancer (Grandma didn’t want anyone mucking about with her and when she realized she was sick, she refused medical attention. She’d been a nurse in the 40’s and 50’s and 60’s and didn’t want anyone ‘helping’ her. Grandma didn’t live very long after it was discovered by her kids, but she was of sound mind til she finally passed.). I did say there was a chance we could have breast cancer in our bodies, but my last mammogram a few years back was fine. She then said she never got them. She hated the C word and was terrified of it. So, she was determined to be in denial about everything related to it and she’d never get a mammogram.

And this is why I’m the responsible daughter. OMG!!! I knew she was scared of cancer and had not had a mammogram yet, but to completely deny the whole idea is stupid. (I need to go and shovel snow and take mum to church, I’ll finish this later. I need to do something hard to work off that annoyance!)

OK, I’m back. I got it all worked out, had a lovely time in church with a family of littles, and then ended up much more annoyed (which was my LAST post!). Am better now.

To get back to mammograms. These are an important tool and to not get one is ridiculous. If I had breasts like my sisters, I’d not neglect the girls! I’m finally getting comfortable with mine and don’t neglect them. (I have the last couple of years, cuz I’m in AK. I’ll get them photographed when I return to Oregon.) Granted, I hope no one ever gets anything similar to the one I had a few years back. The doctor decided I needed looked at, the gal who did my mammogram shook my hand after and wished me well! I had to have an MRI thing done, my arm, from the elbow down, became purple from bruising after the shot they gave me, and I eventually ended up with a tiny clip in my left breast. Which sometimes aches, even though I’m told it is all in my head. (Excuse me???? It is in my BREAST!) The funniest part of that whole experience was the other doctor I saw, the surgeon. I was privileged to carry my file to the hospital from his office and I read it. His notes on me said something akin to my having a pleasant face. (they took photographs of the patients, too) Pleasant. I felt like an old auntie when I read that and should have brought him cookies when I visited!

At any rate, please please PLEASE. Man or woman, if you have a history of breast cancer in your family (or even if you don’t!), get a mammogram. Breast cancer is horrible and not everyone is my mum. (which is to say, a person who can fly around 360 miles round trip in the morning for radiation treatments and go back to work with kids in the afternoon and beat that particular cancer twice.).

If Wishes

starwars

If wishes were light sabers, I’d be on the dark side today.

I’m angry. Which is sort of stupid, but I am. I’ve been a Star Wars fan ever since the very first movie hit the screens. I didn’t get to see that original movie (mum was told it was Satanic and didn’t let us go), but I’ve seen the others more than once (Ok, not movies 2 and 3, those were pretty awful!) and have ‘A New Hope‘ memorized. (I had it on one of those records with the story in the dust jacket) I will never forget the Christmas I was in 7th grade. We got Lego bricks and Star Wars figures that year. (I have a great many pieces of SW collectibles, my favorite are a set of movie drawings from Empire.) We made our own Star Wars worlds and had so much fun. (I found it funny when my eldest got the Lego Millennium Falcon for Christmas one year, because I created my own.)

So, why am I angry? I have missed so many movies since being with mum. She tells me I can go to them, that I am my own person and I have my own life…..and then comes up with reasons why I can’t and don’t. I did not get to see ‘Rouge One’ (I’m still grumpy about missing this…), I was hoping to see ‘The Last Jedi’ on Thursday. But, mum wanted me to get something for her for dinner and I couldn’t go in to town and then back.

I wouldn’t have minded going alone. (OK< not true, I love going to movies with people) I’ve gone to three of them by myself in the last more than a year. (I went to see ‘Barbarella by myself in Oregon) No one had time to see ‘Beauty and the Beast’ with me, I wasn’t sure if anyone wanted to go to ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show’ with me (although, I couldn’t have afforded to take anyone but me!), and I was perfectly positive I’d see this one alone, too. (I might have been able to go on FB to see if anyone wanted to go to these, I’d probably have several people from places not near here who would have, but anyone in my sector would have something else to do. I get this. It is part of knowing people who are busy and I’m a big girl.) But, I didn’t get to. And I’m mad because my selfish person really wanted to do this.

I talked to someone today who had gone this week and she said Obi Wan Kenobi had gotten old. I tried to correct her and then realized I was probably all wrong. Obi Wan could have been in this movie. Shoot, they bring back people from the dead all the time! I hadn’t seen the movie, so I had no idea if Obi Wan was in it or not! I’ve not read many blurbs, I’ve only seen trailers. I should have just kept my big mouth shut and enjoyed learning about the movie from someone else. (yes, I am whining!) I probably couldn’t have afforded to attend this one anyway, cuz I’m saving my pennies for my trip back to Oregon, but oh, I so did want to see this. When ‘The Force Awakens’ ended, I was so thrilled for the next movie. I knew it wasn’t going to be what I thought it might be (different directors), but it would have been so much fun to see!!! (In retrospect, if I had gone, I should not have been alone. I’m a menace in movies. I actually cheered when Hans was killed during ‘The Force Awakens’ and I laughed and laughed through the whole movie. If I’d not been between The Craftsman and Little Bear, I’m not sure what those in the audience might have done to me!!! Perhaps this is why no one goes anywhere with me……)

It is hard to remember what I want isn’t important. Even in Oregon, what I want is often second to what anyone else desires. (I recall sitting in the car one 4th of July afternoon while the guys went to a movie. I didn’t want to go to one by myself and I didn’t want to see the one they wanted. So, I read and slept til it was over!) I’m going to go to my room and wallow in the dark side, cuz that is where I seem to fit best. And if I throw a temper tantrum like Kylo Ren, just walk the other way. (although, I won’t. I just whine, wish for something that will never happen, internalize my anger, and realise how selfish I am.)