As mentioned, the drive home was an experience with all the bumps and potholes, I pretty much sat in the car holding my breasts to buffer the shock of the bumps. You can imagine the looks I was getting from other drivers.
The first 2 weeks were a breeze. I felt pretty good, except for the constant nausa which was from the anesetic. I was healing fast, I had the drainage tubes removed within a week. The tubes were never really in the way or annoying, I looked at it this way, they were smaller than the breasts that were hanging there 2 weeks prior!
I had a Nurse visit daily to change the dressings, and make sure that everything was healing properly.
I visited the Surgeon, and he was pleased with my progress, and to continue what I have been doing. I felt at this time that I could change the dressings myself, and the nurse released me from daily visits.
I suppose I got a little too cocky about my speedy healing, because on the 3rd week I started to feel sicker, and exhausted and the left breast was red and hot around the nipple. I don't want to gross out the readers, but the infection was nasty. I went to my Family Doctor and she put me on antibiotic on Tuesday. She did proactively take a swab of the infected area.
I can't even remember the weeks to follow. I just slept, couldn't eat due to the nausea. I forced gingerale to keep myself from getting dehydrated. On Friday morning I received a call from my Doctor, advising that the swab she took came back that the infection was from a rare bacteria that would only have been picked up from the hospital, and that the antibiotics she gave me wouldn't work, but called in another perscription for the correct medication.
By Sunday the infection got worse and I drove myself to the hospital. Again, I will spare the details, however when you have surgery like this, the tissue and fat dies and decomposes and needs to be drain.
Lets just say, by this time in my "new breasts life", they have been exposed to numerous nurses and doctors. It was as if they weren't mine anyway, I couldn't imagine showing my real breasts to anyone. I showed the Dr in Emerg and I am sure he was grossed out. He took a swab as well, and gave me another perscription for antibiotics and to take it along with the antibiotics I received on Friday. He told me that if it gets any worse to go back to the hospital where I had the surgery!
I became sicker and weaker. I called and left a message for my surgeon to let him know what was going on. His secretary called me Monday and asked that I come to his office Tuesday. I was too weak to drive, and I was sure that he was going to re-admit me and set me up on IV antibiotics and perhaps another drain. I was even taking some of the painkillers that he perscribed. I didn't feel that I needed the painkillers even the day after the surgery, but now I was in a lot of pain.
Tuesday, my parents drove me to Newmarket to visit the Surgeon. He explained that there was an absess on the one nipple and that the infection was not serious, but fat and its surrounding tissues becoming necrotic. He removed the abcess and infection. He called to have the nurses back to pack the area and ensure the infection clears up.
Back home I became sicker and slept more. At this point, the 4th week after the surgery I wanted someone to shoot me. I felt amazing the first 2 weeks. Now I lived off of Gravol, ginger-ale and popsicles.
Monday morning, almost a week later I woke up and wasn't nausaus. I was actually hungry! Hallalooooooooooya I felt human again. I actually had breakfast and kept it down.
The nurses are still coming and packing the hole that was created when the doctor removed the absess. I visited him again Tuesday and he is happy with the progress with the infected area, and happy with what the nurses are doing....
Check out next month....the benefits of having smaller breasts!
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Tale of Two Titties - Part 2
It's been 2 weeks since the surgery and I am doing amazing. I'm still healing, there is still bruising, and....let me start at the beginning.
First of all I was to be at the hospital in Newmarket by 11 am. There was a sudden snow storm, severe winds and drifting. There was nothing mentioned about this storm on the news or the weather channel. My parents were supposed to drive me, and then the next day my husband was going to pick me up (this way only had to take 1 day off of work). Turns out the roads were so bad, my husband had to drive me. We live approximately 1 1/2 hours from the hospital. The drifting gave zero visibility. At one point the snow cleared and we were about 6 inches from a 5 foot ditch. This drive only added stress and anxiety to the day, but when we were south of highway 89 the blowing stopped.
All the staff at the hospital were amazing. Finally when I got into the operating room, the doctor had me stand, with nothing but my underwear, so he could draw some lines and measurements on my boobs.
I just want to set the stage for this, because unless you have a 44H chest, and your breasts hang to your navel, you would never understand the humiliation of standing there for everyone in the surgery room to see...however everyone was so kind, and the Doctor was so thoughtful.
He took a blue magic marker, he found the centre of my body, and drew a line. I told him that 'I wouldn't need anesthetic, I was getting off on the fumes from the marker". He then had an instrument that looked like a draftsman's tool, used it to make other measurements, then drew other lines. Finally he had a template of a oval, placed it high on my chest and traced it on both sides of the centre line. The circles were high, but I didn't question the man, he was the surgeon, and I was sure that wasn't a mark for my nipple's new home!
I got on the stretcher, they put the mask on and I was out. I woke up what seemed like 5 minutes later, however the surgery was 2 1/2 hours. I was very nauseous. I had never been sick on the anesthetic before, but this time it didn't agree with me. An hour later I was taken up to my room, which turned out my lucky day, because I was in a private room!
I was hooked up to IV with morphine, and due to the consistent throwing up, decided to hook me up with Gravol as well. I don't know about anyone else, but morphine makes me very hot. The nurse I had was so kind, she found me a fan, put it on the table in front of me, and blasted it 2 feet from my face and I was happy.
My husband finally found me in my room, I don't recall any conversation because of the Gravol and morphine "speed ball". I must have fell asleep, when I woke up my husband was gone. I was worried due to the road conditions, and text him to let me know when he gets home. He text me back that he had been home for hours!
I was soooo thirsty. I had some ice water, but I wanted a ginger ale, a Popsicle. Every time I saw a nurse I asked - "I hate to be a pain, but do you have a Popsicle?" They said they would check. Nothing, brought me more water, claimed that the budget cuts, don't have Popsicles or ginger ale anymore! wtf.
Hours later, I had to buzz the nurse to put the side of my bed down so I could go to the washroom...turns out I had a male nurse...and all I was wearing was my underwear and a bra..I am sure the poor man will never be able to close his eyes again without the vision of my dimply ass waddling into the washroom, burned into his memory.
I haven't mentioned the pain yet. When I woke up I was expecting the horrid white pain I experienced after my cesareans. Nothing like that. It hurt, maybe the morphine was helping. I felt some pulling, a bit of tenderness but not pain that wasn't bearable...until of course on the drive home...Not sure if the Ministry of Transportation or whatever Ministry it is that is responsible for the condition of the roads, is aware of the amount of potholes between Newmarket to Airport Road....but that story will continue next month.
First of all I was to be at the hospital in Newmarket by 11 am. There was a sudden snow storm, severe winds and drifting. There was nothing mentioned about this storm on the news or the weather channel. My parents were supposed to drive me, and then the next day my husband was going to pick me up (this way only had to take 1 day off of work). Turns out the roads were so bad, my husband had to drive me. We live approximately 1 1/2 hours from the hospital. The drifting gave zero visibility. At one point the snow cleared and we were about 6 inches from a 5 foot ditch. This drive only added stress and anxiety to the day, but when we were south of highway 89 the blowing stopped.
All the staff at the hospital were amazing. Finally when I got into the operating room, the doctor had me stand, with nothing but my underwear, so he could draw some lines and measurements on my boobs.
I just want to set the stage for this, because unless you have a 44H chest, and your breasts hang to your navel, you would never understand the humiliation of standing there for everyone in the surgery room to see...however everyone was so kind, and the Doctor was so thoughtful.
He took a blue magic marker, he found the centre of my body, and drew a line. I told him that 'I wouldn't need anesthetic, I was getting off on the fumes from the marker". He then had an instrument that looked like a draftsman's tool, used it to make other measurements, then drew other lines. Finally he had a template of a oval, placed it high on my chest and traced it on both sides of the centre line. The circles were high, but I didn't question the man, he was the surgeon, and I was sure that wasn't a mark for my nipple's new home!
I got on the stretcher, they put the mask on and I was out. I woke up what seemed like 5 minutes later, however the surgery was 2 1/2 hours. I was very nauseous. I had never been sick on the anesthetic before, but this time it didn't agree with me. An hour later I was taken up to my room, which turned out my lucky day, because I was in a private room!
I was hooked up to IV with morphine, and due to the consistent throwing up, decided to hook me up with Gravol as well. I don't know about anyone else, but morphine makes me very hot. The nurse I had was so kind, she found me a fan, put it on the table in front of me, and blasted it 2 feet from my face and I was happy.
My husband finally found me in my room, I don't recall any conversation because of the Gravol and morphine "speed ball". I must have fell asleep, when I woke up my husband was gone. I was worried due to the road conditions, and text him to let me know when he gets home. He text me back that he had been home for hours!
I was soooo thirsty. I had some ice water, but I wanted a ginger ale, a Popsicle. Every time I saw a nurse I asked - "I hate to be a pain, but do you have a Popsicle?" They said they would check. Nothing, brought me more water, claimed that the budget cuts, don't have Popsicles or ginger ale anymore! wtf.
Hours later, I had to buzz the nurse to put the side of my bed down so I could go to the washroom...turns out I had a male nurse...and all I was wearing was my underwear and a bra..I am sure the poor man will never be able to close his eyes again without the vision of my dimply ass waddling into the washroom, burned into his memory.
I haven't mentioned the pain yet. When I woke up I was expecting the horrid white pain I experienced after my cesareans. Nothing like that. It hurt, maybe the morphine was helping. I felt some pulling, a bit of tenderness but not pain that wasn't bearable...until of course on the drive home...Not sure if the Ministry of Transportation or whatever Ministry it is that is responsible for the condition of the roads, is aware of the amount of potholes between Newmarket to Airport Road....but that story will continue next month.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Tale of 2 titties
A New Me!
By the time you read this blog, I will no longer be me. I will no longer be the huge breasted woman that I have been over the past 3 decades. I will be perky, ‘smaller’, and new. I am getting a breast reduction on March 2, 2011.
I am going to take the readers through my journey of my new lease on life. It isn’t a new lease where I am close to death and by some miracle get another chance, this is my new lease where I have been carrying around my 44H breasts which I am sure weigh 30 lbs each. It will be like getting 2 15 lb bags of potatoes removed from hanging around my neck for years. I am so excited I could burst.
First I want to give you some background on my decision. I have a friend that had the surgery years ago, and never regretted the decision. I have always wanted to, but was afraid to have them reduced uncase I would not look uncoordinated. I am a “heavy set” woman, only 5 feet tall, and was afraid that if I reduced the size of my breasts I would look like a pear. It wasn’t until I saw a picture of me at Christmas where I realized that the size of my breasts, made me appear more matronly. It didn’t matter the quality of my bra, I still was massive, hanging, and repulsive.
I was fortunate enough to get a new Doctor in my area, and when she was going over my history, asked me if I had a mammogram recently. I advised her I did, and next time I was going to take scissors, and snip them off! She asked me why, did I want a reduction? Did I! I asked “aren’t I too old?” her response was “No, I have patients in their 70’s” I said ‘absolutely, how soon can we book it?” She explained to me that if I was planning to lose weight, that I should get aggressive now, because when I get my “perky breasts, I won’t want to lose any weight from them”...I said “PERKY? I have never in my life had perky breasts!”
My doctor and I discussed the back pain, the neck pain, the headaches that I have been suffering since I was a teenager. Due to these problems, the surgery was covered by OHIP. It was about 2 weeks later, I received a call from the surgeons office. A few weeks after that, I met with the surgeon, who was the most professional, patient, empathetic Doctor I had ever met. He explained how the surgery was done, and what I should expect and explained that couldn’t go too small, but from my 44H, could take me to a 44D or 44C. That was almost 7 sizes!
As you probably noticed, I am an open book, I share with everyone. I posted it on Facebook, I Twittered about it. I discovered that there were many other women in my office that had the same surgery! These women were very discrete, and when I saw them after their surgery, I just thought they looked great, may have lost weight or something. One girl that I had never met in the office emailed me, she had the same surgeon, and she was so happy with him and her results. She was a 38K! She was so happy for me, as all the others that had the reduction were, and told me that I will be ecstatic with the results.
Each one of these woman however, did warn me there would be a lot of pain. I’m not afraid of pain, I have had 2 caesareans, laparoscopy, numerous colonoscopies...I even had stitches on my nose and chin without freezing...I can handle it. To be honest with you I have to keep reminding myself that the pain is just part of the process, and I will deal with it when it happens, and it won’t last forever, and I will have painkillers, and I will no longer suffer from headaches and neckaches...so I’m ok with that.
It is funny that each story that I have heard from others varied. One person said it was horrific, like nothing they have ever experienced in their life. One said it hurt a lot, but it was do’able. Another said although the pain was bad, the result made up for it...but each and every one of them said that “the only thing they regret, was that they waited so long to have it done!”
Because this is serious surgery, it takes approximately 2 ½ hours in the operating room and 1 hour in recovery and a one night stay...there is a lot of pre-op work. My new wonderful Doctor had a breathing test done (I have asthma) and had an echocardiogram done on my heart, and then I had to go to the hospital to have blood work, ECG, interview with the Nurse to go over paperwork; discuss all meds that I take, allergies, reactions to anesetic, and then I met with the Anesthesiologist who pretty much decides whether or not you are a risk. So yesterday I completed all the steps, now I just have to keep germ free so I don’t get a cold or anything that would delay the surgery.
I was told to bring my old bra because I will be wearing it after the surgery due to swelling and bandages, so I went and purchased one that did up the front to make it easier to open and close. I was told I may have drainage tubes, and there will be pain. There they went with that pain again!
So by the time you read this, I will have already had the surgery, and God willing, I will report to you all on how the surgery went, and give you an update on the pain...and the results.
By the time you read this blog, I will no longer be me. I will no longer be the huge breasted woman that I have been over the past 3 decades. I will be perky, ‘smaller’, and new. I am getting a breast reduction on March 2, 2011.
I am going to take the readers through my journey of my new lease on life. It isn’t a new lease where I am close to death and by some miracle get another chance, this is my new lease where I have been carrying around my 44H breasts which I am sure weigh 30 lbs each. It will be like getting 2 15 lb bags of potatoes removed from hanging around my neck for years. I am so excited I could burst.
First I want to give you some background on my decision. I have a friend that had the surgery years ago, and never regretted the decision. I have always wanted to, but was afraid to have them reduced uncase I would not look uncoordinated. I am a “heavy set” woman, only 5 feet tall, and was afraid that if I reduced the size of my breasts I would look like a pear. It wasn’t until I saw a picture of me at Christmas where I realized that the size of my breasts, made me appear more matronly. It didn’t matter the quality of my bra, I still was massive, hanging, and repulsive.
I was fortunate enough to get a new Doctor in my area, and when she was going over my history, asked me if I had a mammogram recently. I advised her I did, and next time I was going to take scissors, and snip them off! She asked me why, did I want a reduction? Did I! I asked “aren’t I too old?” her response was “No, I have patients in their 70’s” I said ‘absolutely, how soon can we book it?” She explained to me that if I was planning to lose weight, that I should get aggressive now, because when I get my “perky breasts, I won’t want to lose any weight from them”...I said “PERKY? I have never in my life had perky breasts!”
My doctor and I discussed the back pain, the neck pain, the headaches that I have been suffering since I was a teenager. Due to these problems, the surgery was covered by OHIP. It was about 2 weeks later, I received a call from the surgeons office. A few weeks after that, I met with the surgeon, who was the most professional, patient, empathetic Doctor I had ever met. He explained how the surgery was done, and what I should expect and explained that couldn’t go too small, but from my 44H, could take me to a 44D or 44C. That was almost 7 sizes!
As you probably noticed, I am an open book, I share with everyone. I posted it on Facebook, I Twittered about it. I discovered that there were many other women in my office that had the same surgery! These women were very discrete, and when I saw them after their surgery, I just thought they looked great, may have lost weight or something. One girl that I had never met in the office emailed me, she had the same surgeon, and she was so happy with him and her results. She was a 38K! She was so happy for me, as all the others that had the reduction were, and told me that I will be ecstatic with the results.
Each one of these woman however, did warn me there would be a lot of pain. I’m not afraid of pain, I have had 2 caesareans, laparoscopy, numerous colonoscopies...I even had stitches on my nose and chin without freezing...I can handle it. To be honest with you I have to keep reminding myself that the pain is just part of the process, and I will deal with it when it happens, and it won’t last forever, and I will have painkillers, and I will no longer suffer from headaches and neckaches...so I’m ok with that.
It is funny that each story that I have heard from others varied. One person said it was horrific, like nothing they have ever experienced in their life. One said it hurt a lot, but it was do’able. Another said although the pain was bad, the result made up for it...but each and every one of them said that “the only thing they regret, was that they waited so long to have it done!”
Because this is serious surgery, it takes approximately 2 ½ hours in the operating room and 1 hour in recovery and a one night stay...there is a lot of pre-op work. My new wonderful Doctor had a breathing test done (I have asthma) and had an echocardiogram done on my heart, and then I had to go to the hospital to have blood work, ECG, interview with the Nurse to go over paperwork; discuss all meds that I take, allergies, reactions to anesetic, and then I met with the Anesthesiologist who pretty much decides whether or not you are a risk. So yesterday I completed all the steps, now I just have to keep germ free so I don’t get a cold or anything that would delay the surgery.
I was told to bring my old bra because I will be wearing it after the surgery due to swelling and bandages, so I went and purchased one that did up the front to make it easier to open and close. I was told I may have drainage tubes, and there will be pain. There they went with that pain again!
So by the time you read this, I will have already had the surgery, and God willing, I will report to you all on how the surgery went, and give you an update on the pain...and the results.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Christmas
I work in a call center, and speak to an average of 50 to 60 people everyday. I speak to many very obnoxious and irate people, condescending people, some very stupid people, but sometimes I speak to some amazing, inspiring people.
I have spoken to numerous people that have cancer, and I am astonished by their courage and positive energy. I have so many stories to tell...but the story about Steve and his family and his dying mother has motivated me this Christmas.
Steve lived in Alberta. His family still lived in Nova Scotia, and his mother who was in her 90's was very sick. His brother Bobby called Steve in early November and told him that he was afraid his mother wasn't going to make it to Christmas, but she was determined to make it to Christmas, even though her weary body was starting to fail her.
Steve and Bobby came up with an idea. They decided that all the family in Nova Scotia would get together, pretend it was Christmas. The only constant in Mother's life, was that her sisters would visit her every Friday. Steve suggested to have the sisters visit more than once a week, this would confuse mother, and she would believe it was Christmas.
Unfortunately because it was still November, Steve couldn't get time off work to travel to Nova Scotia, so he was there in spirit! The rest of the family arrived in their Sunday best, carrying their gifts, cookies, cakes. The turkey was in the oven. The tree was decorated, the stockings hung. It was a pretend Christmas in November, perfectly choreographed.
After dinner when Bobby helped his mother to her room for a nap, she said to him "That was a wonderful Day Bobby, I know it isn't Christmas, but I appreciate the effort!
Later that night, Bobby called Steve to give him an update on how the day went. Bobby didn't want to let on to Steve that Mom knew it wasn't Christmas. Then he looked out the front window. "What is it Bobby?" Steve asked. He could hear his brother crying. His brother was "tougher than tar paper"...what would make him cry?
"Steve, you aren't going to believe this. I'm looking out into the street, and every single neighbour, everyone in this town has their Christmas lights on....everyone decorated for Christmas early because I told them our plan to have an early Christmas to trick mom, and the entire town has decorated to support us!
When Steve told me the story I had chills. This story made me realize that the world is a good place, that we hear a lot of the bad things going on everyday, but very rarely hear the good stories.
I have spoken to numerous people that have cancer, and I am astonished by their courage and positive energy. I have so many stories to tell...but the story about Steve and his family and his dying mother has motivated me this Christmas.
Steve lived in Alberta. His family still lived in Nova Scotia, and his mother who was in her 90's was very sick. His brother Bobby called Steve in early November and told him that he was afraid his mother wasn't going to make it to Christmas, but she was determined to make it to Christmas, even though her weary body was starting to fail her.
Steve and Bobby came up with an idea. They decided that all the family in Nova Scotia would get together, pretend it was Christmas. The only constant in Mother's life, was that her sisters would visit her every Friday. Steve suggested to have the sisters visit more than once a week, this would confuse mother, and she would believe it was Christmas.
Unfortunately because it was still November, Steve couldn't get time off work to travel to Nova Scotia, so he was there in spirit! The rest of the family arrived in their Sunday best, carrying their gifts, cookies, cakes. The turkey was in the oven. The tree was decorated, the stockings hung. It was a pretend Christmas in November, perfectly choreographed.
After dinner when Bobby helped his mother to her room for a nap, she said to him "That was a wonderful Day Bobby, I know it isn't Christmas, but I appreciate the effort!
Later that night, Bobby called Steve to give him an update on how the day went. Bobby didn't want to let on to Steve that Mom knew it wasn't Christmas. Then he looked out the front window. "What is it Bobby?" Steve asked. He could hear his brother crying. His brother was "tougher than tar paper"...what would make him cry?
"Steve, you aren't going to believe this. I'm looking out into the street, and every single neighbour, everyone in this town has their Christmas lights on....everyone decorated for Christmas early because I told them our plan to have an early Christmas to trick mom, and the entire town has decorated to support us!
When Steve told me the story I had chills. This story made me realize that the world is a good place, that we hear a lot of the bad things going on everyday, but very rarely hear the good stories.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
April 27, 2010
When I was young, I remember my Grandmother telling me (I don't remember the conversation) that she was sure that Al Capone's mother loved him!
I couldn't imagine someone loving someone that killed people. In my immature mind, I couldn't comprehend that a mother or anyone for that matter, could love someone unconditionally....even if they were a murder or thief or a 'bad guy'.
As I grew up, I learned what it was to love someone for good and bad (not gangster bad) but someone who hurt your feelings, fight or argue with you and then make up and be friends again. These are lessons we learn when we are young with our friends. Having parents that loved me and were there for me also taught me a lesson of love and faith and comfort of knowing someone loved me, didn't matter if I was fat/skinny, ugly/beautiful, bratty/well behaved, they even loved me when I had zits on my chin!!
When I became a teenager, I tested their love more than anyone could imagine, and when I got myself in with the wrong crowd and in a lot of trouble, they still loved me! What was up with that? I couldn't understand why!
As approached my 20's I realized what a 'bitch' I was to my parents when I was a teen, and I even told my mother "I can't believe you still love me after what I put you through when I was a teenager' and she just smiled.
Finally, when I had my own baby I finally realized that I couldn't imagine loving anyone more than I did this tiny baby boy...except one night...I was living with my parents at that time, and I was up all night with a screaming, colicky baby...I hated him, I wanted to hit him, I wanted to shake him. To tell you the truth I don't know what stopped me. Finally, I quietly woke my mother up. I was crying, and I asked her to help me (my then husband never woke up). The baby quietened down eventually with my mother rocking him, and I told her that I "hated the baby. I made a decision and tomorrow I am going to the adoption agency and give him up for adoption, there are many people out there that would love a baby, and I hate him. I hate him and I don't want him anymore"!
My mother sat there, she didn't have a look of shock or pity or anger. She just nodded and said "I understand..I will drive you". I thought to myself 'that was easy' and I felt so much better. She put the baby down to sleep and I crawled into bed myself exhausted and relieved that there was a resolution to my 'problem'.
I woke up late in the morning. My baby didn't wake up! I panicked...I ran to his crib and he was sleeping like...a baby....The memories of the night before flooded back...I ran out to the kitchen where my mother was sitting, drinking her coffee. I panicked, I cried...'what is wrong with me, how could I have said those things, I love him more than air, I can't give him away, what kind of mother am I? What kind of person am I?"
My mother got up and hugged me..."I know Honey" she said "I know you love him, and I know you were just tired and frustrated, and I know you wouldn't give him away!"
I realized that my mother knew what I was going through, and in her wisdom, she just agreed with me instead of arguing, and she knew that when I woke up in the morning, I would have been devastated for even saying these things.
Again, she amazed me. She loved me through my bratty childhood, she loved me through my pukey teenager stage, she even loved me after I told her I hated my baby!
I have 2 amazing children now. My son is 27 and my daughter is 15. I would take a bullet for them. I would give them both my kidneys if they need them, I love them more than air, more than my own life, however both of them have given me challenges. They have both tested me, and I still love them. I will be there for them whether it is to attend court with them, or hold their hair when they are sick. Nothing in this world is more important than my children, and I get it now. I get it why my mom has been there through every stage of my life, even the ugly stages and still loves me with all her being, UNCONDITIONALLY. I also get it why, even though he was a dangerous gangster, Al Capone's mother still loved him.
I couldn't imagine someone loving someone that killed people. In my immature mind, I couldn't comprehend that a mother or anyone for that matter, could love someone unconditionally....even if they were a murder or thief or a 'bad guy'.
As I grew up, I learned what it was to love someone for good and bad (not gangster bad) but someone who hurt your feelings, fight or argue with you and then make up and be friends again. These are lessons we learn when we are young with our friends. Having parents that loved me and were there for me also taught me a lesson of love and faith and comfort of knowing someone loved me, didn't matter if I was fat/skinny, ugly/beautiful, bratty/well behaved, they even loved me when I had zits on my chin!!
When I became a teenager, I tested their love more than anyone could imagine, and when I got myself in with the wrong crowd and in a lot of trouble, they still loved me! What was up with that? I couldn't understand why!
As approached my 20's I realized what a 'bitch' I was to my parents when I was a teen, and I even told my mother "I can't believe you still love me after what I put you through when I was a teenager' and she just smiled.
Finally, when I had my own baby I finally realized that I couldn't imagine loving anyone more than I did this tiny baby boy...except one night...I was living with my parents at that time, and I was up all night with a screaming, colicky baby...I hated him, I wanted to hit him, I wanted to shake him. To tell you the truth I don't know what stopped me. Finally, I quietly woke my mother up. I was crying, and I asked her to help me (my then husband never woke up). The baby quietened down eventually with my mother rocking him, and I told her that I "hated the baby. I made a decision and tomorrow I am going to the adoption agency and give him up for adoption, there are many people out there that would love a baby, and I hate him. I hate him and I don't want him anymore"!
My mother sat there, she didn't have a look of shock or pity or anger. She just nodded and said "I understand..I will drive you". I thought to myself 'that was easy' and I felt so much better. She put the baby down to sleep and I crawled into bed myself exhausted and relieved that there was a resolution to my 'problem'.
I woke up late in the morning. My baby didn't wake up! I panicked...I ran to his crib and he was sleeping like...a baby....The memories of the night before flooded back...I ran out to the kitchen where my mother was sitting, drinking her coffee. I panicked, I cried...'what is wrong with me, how could I have said those things, I love him more than air, I can't give him away, what kind of mother am I? What kind of person am I?"
My mother got up and hugged me..."I know Honey" she said "I know you love him, and I know you were just tired and frustrated, and I know you wouldn't give him away!"
I realized that my mother knew what I was going through, and in her wisdom, she just agreed with me instead of arguing, and she knew that when I woke up in the morning, I would have been devastated for even saying these things.
Again, she amazed me. She loved me through my bratty childhood, she loved me through my pukey teenager stage, she even loved me after I told her I hated my baby!
I have 2 amazing children now. My son is 27 and my daughter is 15. I would take a bullet for them. I would give them both my kidneys if they need them, I love them more than air, more than my own life, however both of them have given me challenges. They have both tested me, and I still love them. I will be there for them whether it is to attend court with them, or hold their hair when they are sick. Nothing in this world is more important than my children, and I get it now. I get it why my mom has been there through every stage of my life, even the ugly stages and still loves me with all her being, UNCONDITIONALLY. I also get it why, even though he was a dangerous gangster, Al Capone's mother still loved him.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
April 25, 2010
I was a bit hesitant to blog about this subject, but I'm going to throw it out there. I've already talked about religion, and I know nothing about politics, but euthanasia is my subject today!
Euthanasia comes from the Greek meaning 'good death' or 'practice of ending life in a painless manner'....this subject just didn't pop in my head, I watched a movie last night about Dr. Kevorkian called "You Don't Know Jack" and, no, I didn't have a clue about Jack.
He was a bit of a funny man, almost like an absent minded professor. He wasn't an evil man, the kind of man the press made him out to be. He was very empathic and caring who never solicited patients, he was sought and actually turned down 90 to 95% of the people. Dr. Kevorkian assisted over 130 people end their lives. Each of the patients were terminal. He interviewed each patient and taped each interview.
During one of the patients death, the camera's panned off to the pictures of the man the patient used to be. He was a pilot, in the air force, all his army pictures were arranged on a mantel showing a strong, viral man who had control of his destiny and now he is a shrivelled up old man dying of lung cancer. I understood at that moment why it was so important that for a dignified demise for such a proud man...and that he was allowed to make a choice.
So many arguments about euthanasia. When my beloved dog Phantom started to have seizures, and was discovered she had a brain tumour, I couldn't watch her suffer any longer. When the vet administered the needle, she was dead within 5 seconds. She looked like she was sleeping, and she was no longer in pain. When we went to pay the vet, she declined saying "it was an act of mercy". So what about a best friend or a loved one who have Lou Gehrig's disease, cancer or Parkinson's disease where they know they are not going to get any better.
Dr. Kevorkian didn't actually kill the patients. He was once a pathologist, and with an Erector set he purchased at a garage sale, set up a system with 3 different drugs, (something to relax, something to put you to sleep, and something to make the heart stop) he would hook up the patient with the IV, however the patient was in control on whether or not to set the drip to start. This is how he got away with 130 assisted deaths, because he didn't actually kill the patient.
During the movie, he was asked why he started a career of mercy killings, and he said that his mother had cancer when he was a young boy, and he had to watch her die a long and painful death. She told him to "imagine the worst toothache in your life....not imagine your entire body feeling that same pain, and nothing makes it go away". Wow...that really blew me away, to be in that much pain, knowing there is nothing medically can be done for you...you just have to wait and die.
I have to say that if or when I get old and diseased and I am suffering a long and painful illness, that there is a Dr. Kevorkian out there that will help me. Let me die with some dignity like my dog Phantom did.
Euthanasia comes from the Greek meaning 'good death' or 'practice of ending life in a painless manner'....this subject just didn't pop in my head, I watched a movie last night about Dr. Kevorkian called "You Don't Know Jack" and, no, I didn't have a clue about Jack.
He was a bit of a funny man, almost like an absent minded professor. He wasn't an evil man, the kind of man the press made him out to be. He was very empathic and caring who never solicited patients, he was sought and actually turned down 90 to 95% of the people. Dr. Kevorkian assisted over 130 people end their lives. Each of the patients were terminal. He interviewed each patient and taped each interview.
During one of the patients death, the camera's panned off to the pictures of the man the patient used to be. He was a pilot, in the air force, all his army pictures were arranged on a mantel showing a strong, viral man who had control of his destiny and now he is a shrivelled up old man dying of lung cancer. I understood at that moment why it was so important that for a dignified demise for such a proud man...and that he was allowed to make a choice.
So many arguments about euthanasia. When my beloved dog Phantom started to have seizures, and was discovered she had a brain tumour, I couldn't watch her suffer any longer. When the vet administered the needle, she was dead within 5 seconds. She looked like she was sleeping, and she was no longer in pain. When we went to pay the vet, she declined saying "it was an act of mercy". So what about a best friend or a loved one who have Lou Gehrig's disease, cancer or Parkinson's disease where they know they are not going to get any better.
Dr. Kevorkian didn't actually kill the patients. He was once a pathologist, and with an Erector set he purchased at a garage sale, set up a system with 3 different drugs, (something to relax, something to put you to sleep, and something to make the heart stop) he would hook up the patient with the IV, however the patient was in control on whether or not to set the drip to start. This is how he got away with 130 assisted deaths, because he didn't actually kill the patient.
During the movie, he was asked why he started a career of mercy killings, and he said that his mother had cancer when he was a young boy, and he had to watch her die a long and painful death. She told him to "imagine the worst toothache in your life....not imagine your entire body feeling that same pain, and nothing makes it go away". Wow...that really blew me away, to be in that much pain, knowing there is nothing medically can be done for you...you just have to wait and die.
I have to say that if or when I get old and diseased and I am suffering a long and painful illness, that there is a Dr. Kevorkian out there that will help me. Let me die with some dignity like my dog Phantom did.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
April 22, 2010
I watched Idol Gives Back last night. I ended up changing the channel because it was depressing me and I never did find you who was sent home....but today I thought about it a lot. There were so many children in Ethiopia and other cities in Africa and other third world countries, that have seen more pain that I could ever imagine. They lost their parents, some have HIV, some are starving, some of the young girls ran away because they were forced to marry sometimes as young as 5 years old or female circumcision...and you know what stuck in my mind? What all these children had in common? They were SMILING! They were smiling, enjoying the life - has horrid as it was - as if it was a gift!
I am as guilty as the rest of the miserable people in the world, that seems to have everything, but not happy enough. That our house isn't big enough, we have a lot of bills, our car is older, I can't find a decent hairdresser, I have to do laundry, I have to clean the house, I have to clean my car, I have to go to work! In our lifestyle, it seems like a burden to have to do laundry, but when I think of these people that have to take their rags down to the river and hammer them with rocks; throwing a load in the washer and walking away isn't so bad!
I don't want to sound like - 'eat your dinner, there are starving kids in Africa' I don't want it to be that trivial. I am going deeper than that.
Ever notice people with Cancer have the most positive attitude than most? Why is that? Because they know they could die tomorrow, that they are very sick, and they are suddenly appreciating the life they used to bitch and complain about. Same thing with these precious kids in Africa, they were smiling. They weren't going to McDonalds for dinner, in fact they may not be having dinner, but for the once sweet moment they were enjoying it. Is it because their life is so full of hate and fear and death, that through survival, they have taught themselves to enjoy the simple, and perhaps short happy moment because it could be their last!
I speak to people everyday who are angry about mistakes, or angry about their invoice for a luxury item. I feel like telling them, this is just an invoice...I didn't steal your kidney, pummel your village, rape your sister. It isn't life or death.
I'm not trying to make the readers feel guilty, and I'm not asking you to donate to a charity, I am asking you to look at the big picture. I'm asking to use these sweet children as an example, to enjoy life for that moment. To love, laugh, and enjoy your life to the fullest, enjoy the moment like it was your last. I guess that is what the person was thinking that said "Sing like no one is listening, dance like no one is watching" It isn't exactly literal, it is saying enjoy your life, enjoy the simple things, do what makes you happy, and who gives a shit....
Now, my mission is done....now I have to Google and see who was cut on American Idol last night.
I am as guilty as the rest of the miserable people in the world, that seems to have everything, but not happy enough. That our house isn't big enough, we have a lot of bills, our car is older, I can't find a decent hairdresser, I have to do laundry, I have to clean the house, I have to clean my car, I have to go to work! In our lifestyle, it seems like a burden to have to do laundry, but when I think of these people that have to take their rags down to the river and hammer them with rocks; throwing a load in the washer and walking away isn't so bad!
I don't want to sound like - 'eat your dinner, there are starving kids in Africa' I don't want it to be that trivial. I am going deeper than that.
Ever notice people with Cancer have the most positive attitude than most? Why is that? Because they know they could die tomorrow, that they are very sick, and they are suddenly appreciating the life they used to bitch and complain about. Same thing with these precious kids in Africa, they were smiling. They weren't going to McDonalds for dinner, in fact they may not be having dinner, but for the once sweet moment they were enjoying it. Is it because their life is so full of hate and fear and death, that through survival, they have taught themselves to enjoy the simple, and perhaps short happy moment because it could be their last!
I speak to people everyday who are angry about mistakes, or angry about their invoice for a luxury item. I feel like telling them, this is just an invoice...I didn't steal your kidney, pummel your village, rape your sister. It isn't life or death.
I'm not trying to make the readers feel guilty, and I'm not asking you to donate to a charity, I am asking you to look at the big picture. I'm asking to use these sweet children as an example, to enjoy life for that moment. To love, laugh, and enjoy your life to the fullest, enjoy the moment like it was your last. I guess that is what the person was thinking that said "Sing like no one is listening, dance like no one is watching" It isn't exactly literal, it is saying enjoy your life, enjoy the simple things, do what makes you happy, and who gives a shit....
Now, my mission is done....now I have to Google and see who was cut on American Idol last night.
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