Surviving Fear

I walk reluctantly through the automatic hospital doors, through the lobby and to the elevator. I press the up button and wait for the car to arrive, swallowing the fear I have been shrugging away for days.

The elevator doors open, I enter and hit the floor of the health care center I have to, no … need to go to, feeling fear rise further and further up, about to bubble over. I’m here alone. I always try to be alone at moments like this. I prefer to close in on myself, to deal with it in my own way. To hide fear in a shrug of indifference and nonconcern when asked if I’m ok. “It’s no big deal” I say, like I mean it, “I’m sure it’s nothing“, while inside terror is trying to chip away at my belief in my words. I seek hope in silence, in controlling the fear. If I speak of it the fear becomes alive; if it becomes alive I don’t swallow it, it swallows me. There’s no light in fear.

I know my odds. My family history, too many gone before they’ve gotten to see their children grow, graduate, marry … It will not be, is my creed as I exit the elevator. I killed it, is my mantra as I enter the exterior waiting room. My heartbeat tapping out dear god, dear god, dear god as they call my name to the “girls only” inner sanctum.

I’m led to a locker, handed a hospital gown “opening to the back and here’s a robe to keep you warm, you may put your things in the locker“. After  I change I’m led to another waiting area, other women already there in their hospital gowns and robes. There’s coffee, tea, juices, muffins, assorted snacks on a counter in the entryway. I’ve been here many times over the last 18 years. The first time I wasn’t scared, I was only 23. I was still young enough to think myself immortal, unbreakable. Then the other women in the waiting room seemed so much older to me; now, not so much. Now they don’t look at me with pity, now we glance at each other like soldiers glance at each other; acknowledging the fear they know is there because they have it as well but, we will not speak of it, just a simple nod of the head in recognition of the battle that may be coming, is in progress, or is over.

Mammogram, the word sounds funny to me. Like a warped telegram. One you don’t want to get. I had just had one, that is why I am back today. Something wasn’t right. They add an ultrasound to it to verify the findings, get better pictures … I gulp the fear down hard, try to joke with the tech about how men must have invented the mammogram, no woman in her right mind would come up with a device such as this as a diagnostic tool …

I speak to my Doctor, I trust her with my life. Which is good since she essentially, has before, holds it in her hands. The first time they caught it in time. A simple surgery and check-ups every three months for five years, yearly thereafter.  But still, since then, every year as I enter those doors the fear that it’s back, the fear that it moved too fast … it happens, it moving too fast. One family member was fine. Fine. Suddenly felt off, not quite right … three months later “poof”, gone. Only 38 years old. I am now 40. Next week I will be 41. Middle Daughter graduates HS in a month and a half. Only Son graduates college next spring. Sam has only just begun. These are the thoughts in my head before she starts speaking, will I still be here in three months?

My Doctor says what they found is a small benign cyst, less than 4cm, but because of its location, resting against a lymph node, and my history, my family history, she’s setting me back to “watch” status. It’s been many years with perfect checks. I even was allowed to space follow-ups two years apart just two years ago. I had been so excited. This was my first time back in two years. Now I’m back to the six month follow-up but I’ll go without complaint, choking down the fear every time I step over the threshold and seeking hope that it never comes back.

Fantabulous and Awesome Blossom Awards

 

I love these awards for four reasons: 

1. They’re pretty and who doesn’t like pretty things?
2. Blossom is my maiden name, so the Awesome Blossom Award makes me feel extra special! 
3. They’re no strings attached  which means you can accept and not have to answer questions or only chose 5-10 bloggers to bestow the honor upon.
4. They came from Melanie of motherofnine9 who writes a wonderful blog

 

This is what Melanie posted about the awards: 

“Awards are nice – they are the equivalent of Girl’s Night Out or a Night with the Guys where you compliment each other, share juicy tidbits about yourself and then inform the group of what amazing find you came across last week.

However, for a variety of reasons there are those who choose not to accept or pass on awards.  For those who like the idea of having an award or two on their site, but aren’t up to the work involved or feel like they’ll somehow betray those they follow by narrowing a list down to just 10 – here’s two awards you are welcome to put on your site if I’ve followed you, Liked one of your posts or left a comment that included the link to this page.

You are also free to bestow these no-strings attached Awards to others as you see fit – these images are free to use as long as you and others don’t pretend they are your own.  If you wish to link back here,Fantabulous – but not required.”

This award is intended for all my followers, please copy and paste them to your blog and enjoy. I’ve been enjoying my time on WordPress and these seem the best way to show my appreciation to all of you at once. Enjoy your night (or day, as the case may be …)! 

 

Kids, Human and Goat

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While other Mothers were most likely getting more traditional Mother’s Day gifts, Saturday afternoon we went to pick up my Mother’s Day present, baby Goats!

The spotted one I immediately names Goatacus, due to the horrifyingly painful kick to the sternum he gave me on the car ride home. Apparently he doesn’t enjoy cars. At the moment Goatacus is a month old buck, in another week or so he will no longer be a buck. Sorry Goatacus. 

Sam named the little girl goat Piglet, I allowed it because, really? A goat named Piglet? It’s amusing. 

So, between the 14 new baby chicks that needed to be cared for every ten seconds (since they enjoyed throwing their feeder around and knocking over the waterer), waiting for the baby ducks to hatch, the regular “barn” chores and those added by the damage Dean the Wonder Horse enjoys inflicting on the barn walls, spring planting, everyday housework, playing with Sam, trying to plan a graduation party for Middle Daughter, etc, etc, so forth and so on, adding care-taking of newborn goats probably wasn’t brilliant but LOOK HOW CUTE THEY ARE!

 

Even Catzilla needed to peek through the rafters to check out the cuteness.

 

 

Even so, I’m freakin’ exhausted. 

Mother’s Day was great though. Only Son came home from college for the day but hadn’t told me he’d be here. You know your child is grown up when he walks in the door with Mother’s Day flowers that he brought his self, with his own money, from his own job. You also know your child is grown up when he gently let’s you know he won’t be home this summer, he’s staying in his apartment because he was offered a job up there. 

*sniff* Sad. But awesome at the same time. I don’t think Only Son and Middle Daughter have any idea how honored and blessed I feel to have been able to watch them grow up into the decent human beings they have become. I fought hard to get them there and I know I can let them go and they’ll do well. 

Middle Daughter couldn’t be here for Mother’s Day. She had to work that day and as her work day is from midday to evening … I’m just psyched I have two kids fully employed! Sam wants a job as well (a real one where she “gets paid with a paycheck, Mommy. Not you giving me love, love is not cash Mommy. I can not buy robot parts with love.”).

Sam wrote for me the meaning of Mother to her according to the letters of Mother:

M is for Monk (she says this is for teaching her Om’s and Tai Chi to help her be peaceful when she wants to hit things and so she doesn’t have to take the “zombie pills” – someday I’ll write about raising Sam)

O is for outstanding Mother

T is for Terrific

H is for Hugs and Kisses

E is for Extraterrestrial (yes, of course I asked if that’s what she meant. Apparently it was. She says I’m  not like other Moms so I must be an alien … I don’t know if that’s good or not.)  

R is for Radiant (she just got done reading Charlotte’s Web, which I bet is where Terrific came from as well)

I love my kids. The human ones and the goats

WTF Music Moment

Here I am, cleaning house on a rainy day listening to some tunes (at full volume of course) and one of my favorite songs comes on, Close My Eyes Forever. But and it’s a big but, this ain’t my favorite song. 

Some covers should not be done. Some are awesome, I’m thinking Metallica’s cover of Turn The Page. Some suck so bad I want to run a hot poker through my ears (Yeah, Sheryl Crow I’m talking about you desecrating Sweet Child O’Mine. Seriously, WTF WERE YOU THINKING??).

They’re saying, on the radio, how great this cover of the classic Ozzy and Lita song is. How wonderfully well their voices blend together, with all the raw emotion Lita and Ozzy put into the original. Uh, dude, have you listened to the original or have you been smoking crack ’cause this blows (and not in the good way) in comparison  Totally. Blows. I wish I had more hands so I could give it more than two thumbs down. 

So here you go, without further ado, the sucky ass  cover. When you’re done, if you need to compare the original kick ass song is here.

 

Of course I could just be getting old. 

Art Therapy

 

 

After a real crappy week on my part my Husband got fed up with me refusing to remove myself from bed for three straight days and (literally) dragged me out of it on Sunday. Apparently he believed some vitamin D would do me good, since I have a deficiency and we all know that contributes to depression. Plus I haven’t been taking the pills because I forgot to get them refilled. Two months ago. (50,000 mg a week, my last bit of blood work showed me at a 5 –normal ranges somewhere between 30 and 80, or something– when I’m deficient I like to go all the way.)

As soon as my miserably cynical “life sucks, let me die” self stumbles out into the bright light of day Miss Sam screeches, “MOMMY!!!!! Come do chalk art with me!”  I was proud that I managed the above. The fact that the caption reads “Oh Crap!” instead of “Fuck it!” means I’m feeling better (shut up, delusions help).

Sam, of course, did the rainbow and heart over a river. I took this pic. before she asked me to add something to her river. I added a shark gnawing on a surfer … still, I went outside and I laughed at the reactions of passersby who did double takes on the driveway art.

See? Art heals!

Prompts for the Promptless: Saudade

This week Rarasaur’s Prompts for the Promptless is Saudade:

Saudade is a Portuguese word that describes a deep emotional state of nostalgic longing for an absent something/someone that one loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing will never return.

Saudade was once described as “the love that remains” after someone is gone. Saudade is the recollection of feelings, experiences, places or events that once brought excitement, pleasure, well-being, which now triggers the senses and makes one live again. It can be described as an emptiness, like someone (e.g., one’s children, parents, sibling, grandparents, friends, pets) or something (e.g., places, things one used to do in childhood, or other activities performed in the past) that should be there in a particular moment is missing, and the individual feels this absence. It brings sad and happy feelings all together, sadness for missing and happiness for having experienced the feeling.

Above text and lots more information at : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saudade 

My Saudade

Brushing cobwebs from a cold dusty bench in my mind,
shapes form in the wavering silken threads
as they fall through the air
linking my thoughts to you
You were my first hero, 
the first who showed me people could be kind
without offering pain behind
You kept me from tearing skin from bone
when you stood and fought for me that day;
the first time I didn't stand alone
I cried that day
your kindness in conflict with your reputation
your dislike of violence disregarded
in order to stand up for someone who you saw, 
was tired of the fight
You created a space for me
Dragged the sun in for me
and burnt away some of my darkness
All without knowing how much you had done
A simple split-second decision for you 
was a world changing moment for me
You were a true friend where there had been none before
It's impossible for me to comprehend I'm the one that survived
and you were taken in your prime
Lost just at the start of all you had begun
I miss you and I wish I had been there
to hold your hand and give you back the sun
 
So many faces in these gossamer strands
So many memories in these threads binding me to them
But, no. No more today
Now, I must go from this ghostly bench
let the cobwebs and dust fill it back up
I can't talk with you all,
this bench is growing colder still
I can not in this place remain
Though I've love for you all,
the sadness and the pain ...
Born to be wild!
But, the wild die.
we should have heeded our own warning
but god we had fun
and made memories that would last a lifetime
We should be having barbeques in our backyards
reminiscing about "back in the day"
Who knew a lifetime could fade away
and mean less than any of us thought;
just a strand of silken dust
My lost friends,things I wish to share
that I see, but the depths of time
and space stand now between you and me
and you can not hear me as I hear echoes of you;
My Saudade

Smarter Than a Monkey?

I’ve decided I shouldn’t use the Kindle to read, comment, or try to post to my blog. It’s a touchy little bugger. No pun intended. I like something and unlike it in the same millisecond. I post a comment to a blogger only days later to discover somehow I didn’t. Apparently they have monkeys using these things now but, I can’t seem to manage it with my supposedly far superior brain. 

Ok, it’s an orangutan, not a monkey. I just pissed off two species, since the orangutan will probably come across my blog, get offended that I called him a monkey and go and tell the monkey about the dumbass human that didn’t bother to differentiate the two and that I don’t know the difference between a kindle and an ipad, the monkey will chatter about it to the apes, while the orangutan will then go back to his ipad and tweet the whole thing (with a link to my blog) to all the other primates, except us, because he probably knows how to use privacy settings and when I next go to the zoo monkeys, orangutans, apes, all of them will throw shit at me. (Do I win anything for longest photo caption of ridiculousness?)

Music After Midnight

moi, over at cognitive reflection presented us with a music challenge  today:

“In fact here is a challenge for you, find one of your favourite tracks on YouTube, listen to it then down the right hand side it lists other tracks, choose a track from there, you can decide to choose say the 5th track down each time or some other method, BUT it cannot be by the same artist… Do that 7 times and list the tracks you chose and if you liked them or not.”

I decided to take him up on the challenge because, really, who doesn’t like music? I have very extensive music tastes which translated means there’s not much I don’t like, the exceptions would be Justin Bieber, Boy Bands in general, most “pop” singers (No, no I was not a Debbie Gibson fan back in the day. And never, ever, ever will I be a Taylor Swift fan) and damn near anyone who started on the Disney Channel. My playlist’s drive most people insane, apparently they don’t enjoy listening to a track by Eminem followed up by Jonny Lang, then some Metallica, break it up with a rousing song from the Animaniacs (because that was a great cartoon!), then maybe some Vivaldi and then some Great Society and Korn, then Grateful Dead, Slayer, DMX,  and (just to keep it interesting) end the whole thing with the theme song to Mission Impossible.  Hey they’re my ears and they can’t tolerate the same sound or the same type of voice constantly. 

So, to begin today I picked 1) Sully Erna’s, Sinner’s Prayer, one of my favorite Sully solo tracks (he’s the lead vocals for Godsmack but Pfft! who doesn’t know that?!). I just love the man’s voice. From there I used a very precise set of requirements to decide how to choose the next song in the “suggestions” area; I’d go down six (or five or was it seven? I kept forgetting which I picked) and click the link unless it was the same artist or non-musical. Which is how I came by:

2) Mushroomhead, Solitaire Unraveling, I’d never heard them before, it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever heard. But I can’t tell if I like it or not. It was kind of like watching tennis really. Then we head over to:

3) Rammstein, Ich Will, which is good because that Mushroomhead song still had my brain boggled. Rammstein is on my playlists. No I don’t speak German but as an American who can not speak much more than American I love the sounds of other languages. I could, of course, go to Germany and quote Rammstein lyrics but I have no idea what the bloody hell most of it means and I get the feeling I’d be arrested. 

Which brings us to 4) Marilyn Manson covering Tainted Love, I like Marilyn Manson. Stop Judging me. I’m sparing us all what was next on the suggestion list, Hilary Duff, and instead we shall place a random word in the search and see where that takes us.

Excuse me, sir? Yes, yes, you in the back jumping around like a jacknut. What word? Dude, we’re looking for music, not porn. Sit down.

Oh wait, look I found this on the suggestion list, 5) Стоян Михалeв Откакто ти according to the “translate” option that came up it’s Bulgarian. I’m not going to translate it because where would the fun in that be? I don’t mind it. Of course I don’t know what he’s saying. (note to self: hitting translate will not magically make the person sing in english. Stop being surprised when it doesn’t happen!) 

We’re doing that random word search now … No. Sir, we’re not using that word. I told you to sit down. The word is Goodnight. 

6) Evanescence, Goodnight which is somehow appropriate since I’ve been awake close to 30 hours and I’m getting loopy. Not one of my favorite Evanescence songs but it’s alright. 

7)Superchic(k), Stand in the Rain, honestly I was expecting to hate it. Not too bad. Not awesome or great but not something I’d feel the need to ram a spike through my ears over. And it’s not Mushroomhead, which is still echoing in my brain. Help. 

And this concludes my methodically random musical pickings through YouTube. Although if you’re bored, or exhausted beyond ability to sleep (aka insomnia) open both Tainted Love and the Animaniacs at the same time, either that sounds slightly awesome together or someone needs to slam the laptop shut on my fingers and haul me off to bed. 

Dude! Yes, you!  That is NOT what I meant. Sit down! 

*sigh* Goodnight world. 

I Learned It From You, Dad

 

Today as I’m banging drainage holes into the bottom of numerous hanging baskets I look up and notice my Father staring at me in an odd manner so mid-swing of the hammer towards the hole punch thingy I ask, “What?”  and he says, “Are you using a tire reamer for that?” 

“Well, no. I’m using a hole punch thingy.”

“No. That’s a tire reamer. It goes in the flat fixer kit. You know the kit that the tire reamer was missing from and your Husband asked if you’d seen it.”

“Oh, well, I didn’t know that. It’s my hole punch thingy …” 

Tire reamer flat fixer kit thingy. Apparently NOT a hole punching tool. (I was using the skinny sharp looking one in the box.) Click the pic and you can order your own hole punch thingy!

Dad walks over and kicks open the top of my toolbox. “Dad, I beg of you, don’t touch my tools” because I know what’s coming as soon as he starts pawing through my crap, the same disbelief I received from my husband when he took a gander in there. 

“Why, I hesitate to ask, do you have butter knives in here?” 

*sigh* “I use them for flathead screws” 

“You have three … christ you have eight screwdrivers all with bit attachments for various jobs and you use a BUTTER KNIFE for flathead’s? Why the hell are there two in there?” 

“I can never get enough torque to spin the flathead into or out of anything other than drywall so I use butter knives.  There are two because, as you know, flathead’s come in various widths in the screwdriver placement part thingy so I have two knives of differing width. And I hate changing the whosit’s on the screwdrivers, hence why there’s eight and all with different sized Phillips heads”

“Are you serious? Nevermind. Dare I ask what the toothpaste is for?” 

“For hanging shelves or curtain rods or pictures that need more than one hook. I dab toothpaste on the hanger thingies on the back, press them on the wall and bada-bing, I have marks for perfect level placement.” 

“Ace, that’s why they make rulers and levels.”

“My way is easier and faster.”

“Did you learn anything in all your years being my daughter?”

“Sir, yes Sir! Improvise. Adapt. Overcome!” 

And then I slammed the lid of the toolbox shut, came back inside and spent hours switching out blog themes so he’d forget to ask the reasoning behind the  numerous spark plug gap gauges in there and I’d have to explain that I use them for furniture that wobbles but can’t be adjusted …  

Spark Plug Gap Gauge Furniture stabilizer!

 

Daily Prompt: Earworm (My Violent Heart)

Daily Prompt: Earworm

What song is stuck in your head (or on permanent rotation in your CD  or MP3 player) these days? Why does it speak to you?

Thanks for the great idea, moi! 

Why does this song speak to me? I’m angry at all the violence in the world. I’m angry that you pause now because you question if sending your kid to a movie or even to school is safe anymore. I’m angry at people  that feel the best way to champion their cause is to kill innocent people. I’m angry that in this day and age religion and race is still a division and still a reason to hate. I’m angry that I have to explain to my primary school aged daughter why she can’t chew shapes into her pop tarts. I’m angry, but I’m hopeful, and this song, to me, speaks of both. You can not stop us all from hoping and trying to make things better, you can try but you can’t win.