They say the grass is always greener on the other side. But is there ever a time when you find your feet planted on the green? What then? What do you do when so many people are not standing, but laying on the other side on parched grass? Do you count your lucky stars and thank God you're not them? Do you hold your loved ones closer to your side at night? Do you wonder when it'll be your turn to lay on the parched grass?
I do. I do, and I pray with my eyes wide open. Then those who are suffering will know that I am paying attention and will not look away.
Last night the news was as bleak as it has been for the last few days. Hurricane Katrina - the loss of homes, lives, and a thriving city. The chemical explosion threat - people ousted from their homes with hungry children, businesses closed, lawsuits mounting. The upcoming 911 anniversary - the memories, the grief, the anger.
Then this morning, my co-worker Madonna left for a much anticipated meeting with a client. I wished her luck and waved. Minutes later, we received a phone call. She'd been in a car crash and was sent to the hospital. For the next few hours I fielded phone calls and questions between our frantic boss, worried clients, and the rest of us at work. Everyone else was calm, but I was scared and I didn't know why.
This is why I am not as upset about my car as I might otherwise be. It was Kevin, my landlord, who volunteered to take a look at my car last night and discovered the true problem: the steering rack had cracked wide open. It will cost between $200-$300 just for the part. I was looking forward to finally being able to put aside money in savings, but that will have to wait another month. Yet I have so little to complain about. Danny, my housemate, will lend his mechanic friend for free labor. Rachel, my suitemate, and Chris, my bestfriend, are taking turns taking me to/from work. Jason is ever my on-call hero, always making calls and figuring out what my options are. I may be a little poor, but I'm rich in people who love me. Can I not count myself blessed?
Mothers: Funding Therapy One Fucked Up Daughter At A Time
The following is an online conversation I had this morning with my best friend of 9 years, Chris. Why repeat anything that's already in a dialogue? Enjoy.
dv001: Good morning sunshine! lAdnrEd 16: goooooood mornin' pumpkin! lAdnrEd 16: how are you lAdnrEd 16: how was your weekend dv001: good and good dv001: yours? lAdnrEd 16: Not bad lAdnrEd 16: my car's power steering has gone berserk dv001: no good lAdnrEd 16: gotta get it fixed tonight lAdnrEd 16: yesterday Jason drove us everywhere so I never used my car lAdnrEd 16: then at 9:30pm Danny knocked on my door to ask me to move my car lAdnrEd 16: so I went out and tried to back up the car lAdnrEd 16: but couldn't move my steering wheel lAdnrEd 16: I thought I was going crazy dv001: ouch lAdnrEd 16: so I jumped out of the car and told Danny lAdnrEd 16: he tried to move the car and it started to smoke dv001: !!?!! lAdnrEd 16: at which point I ran in the house and yelled for Jason lAdnrEd 16: like a hero he came flying down and immediately started to check it out lAdnrEd 16: at which point he started to say "oh shit" over and over again, which only freaked me out more lAdnrEd 16: turns out my power steering fluid was leaking in two places lAdnrEd 16: not just leaking, but totally sprayed out dv001: !!?!! lAdnrEd 16: apparently the liquid had saturated everything inside my car, which is why Jason was saying "oh shit" lAdnrEd 16: because the liquid drained so quickly, Jason suspects a line was pulled out dv001: not too bad, a spray down should clean up the steering fluid lAdnrEd 16: the smoke was coming from the fluid heating up on other parts dv001: if it was oil, THEN you'd have a big issue lAdnrEd 16: right. lAdnrEd 16: so today Jason's going to make a couple phone calls and visit some car buddies to see how to fix this dv001: cool lAdnrEd 16: meanwhile Danny will invite his mechanic friend over in case Jason can't fix it lAdnrEd 16: i really don't care how much it costs, as long as it gets fixed lAdnrEd 16: stupid cars! lAdnrEd 16: oh you will not BELIEVE the email I received from my mother this morning dv001: Oh, do share. I may just believe it! lAdnrEd 16: how do mothers do it? fuck us over in that subtle, demonic way of theirs? lAdnrEd 16: you can just feel her judgment oozing all over it lAdnrEd 16: here it is
Dear TT and MM, I pray that God instills in you patience and discerning ability in selecting the man to spend the rest of your life with. I pray that you return to God and His Word, that you have the faith that He will bring a man to you who is your soul mate, who can lead you spiritually, whom you respect for his character and what he does, who is an encourager, and who loves you and makes his best efforts to let you feel loved. I am praying for both of you every day.
I miss you very much.
Mommy
lAdnrEd 16: (I am TT, Jen is MM) lAdnrEd 16: Please tell me that you catch her subtleties and I'm not going crazy dv001: no, I don't think that's so subtle lAdnrEd 16: really? is it obvious? dv001: I think it is. dv001: And MEAN!!! lAdnrEd 16: THANK YOU!!!!!!! lAdnrEd 16: OH THANK GOD, I'M NOT CRAZY dv001: If my mother had ever said somehting like that to my sister or myself, we'd have just left the house. lAdnrEd 16: but do you see what I mean about how it's subtle? because, if taken out of context, a stranger would read that as one of the nicest letters ever written. technically, there's no "mean" word in it. dv001: I disagree. dv001: Your mother is blatantly attempting to wrest control of your love life and influence your choice in life mates. dv001: Regardless of any back story, that's how I see it at first glance. lAdnrEd 16: well I see a lot of things in it lAdnrEd 16: First, she's assuming that she understands me and what's going on in my life. lAdnrEd 16: Wrong. lAdnrEd 16: Second, she added the conclusion that what she understands (which is already faulty) leads her to believe that I am walking down the demon's path lAdnrEd 16: She assumed that I have not been reading the Bible or trying to follow God lAdnrEd 16: Third, she does not acknowledge Jason directly, but rather strongly hints that he is totally wrong for me by telling me that she hopes I'll find the RIGHT guy...aka I have not found the right guy yet lAdnrEd 16: Fourth, why the hell add "I miss you?" Have I been living in the 4th dimension of evil since I moved out or something? lAdnrEd 16: I see her now more often than I did when I was in NY. lAdnrEd 16: In one paragraph, she has managed to insult me in at least 4 different ways, and do it in the featherly, innocent way that only mothers can dv001: while I do feel that she is being MEAN. dv001: You may be overreacting a smidgeon. lAdnrEd 16: Perhaps. But consider that she never emails me except to write things like this. And, when Jason and I are over, she never looks at Jason, let alone acknowledge him. dv001: Well. He's not exactly Chinese. WHich IS a factor in it all. lAdnrEd 16: No it's not. dv001: YES, it is. dv001: Trust me, it is. lAdnrEd 16: I just don't understand! Chris, THIS is why famous books are then made into famous movies. Stories like The Joy Luck Club, The Ya-Ya Sisterhood, and The Prince of Tides are chalk full of main mother figures that are exact replicas of my mother. dv001: Yep. lAdnrEd 16: When I am a mother and I have a daughter, I will tell her from the day she is born the same thing: I love you, that will never change. I will be cordial to every boy you bring in here. But it's your life. If you fuck it up, then you face those consequences. Okay? dv001: Women are vindictive. And they don't like to give up until they get what they want. lAdnrEd 16: What my mother wants me to be is very elusive, if not impossible, so it's stupid of me to even try. dv001: I agree. But you need to tell her this directly. lAdnrEd 16: Christopher, you already have forgotten what you already know. lAdnrEd 16: 1. You know I am a communicator, and a straight forward communicator at that. So I've already told her. 100 times. lAdnrEd 16: 2. You know my mother is psycho with selective hearing. So she then pitches a fit and occassionally goes into her bubble of "Oh woe is me, I'm a terrible mother, how could I have raised this daughter" lAdnrEd 16: it's really a vicious cycle in which I can't win. lAdnrEd 16: And the awful thing about this email is that I'm screwed if I do, screwed if I don't. lAdnrEd 16: If I answer, I'll say something wrong and it'll displease her. lAdnrEd 16: If I don't answer, she'll pent up her anger for my silence until the next time I see her. Then she'll pounce on me for not responding. lAdnrEd 16: God I love this life.
Why are some noises accepted by society, and other shunned? Why is the sound of blowing your nose so embarrassing? Why do so many women hold in their gas on first dates, but not their burps? (I've heard most women don't burp in public, but you're reading the blog of public belcher.)
I guess the week's stress and the change in weather did me in; I started the day with watery eyes and a running nose that I couldn't catch. My office at work does not have four walls, so everyone could hear me yesterday as I filled tissue after tissue with blessed mucus. Unfortunately I had to work late, but as soon as I got home, it was Benadryl for me. It was 7:00pm.
Six hours later, I woke up, read the first chapter of 100 Secret Senses by Amy Tan, realized I was still drowsy from Benadryl, and promptly re-passed out.
At 9:00am, I was refreshed. 14 hours of sleep. I'm feeling much better. Rachel (my suitemate) and I went to the Y. I swam. I ate a special K bar, had a salad, finished my bag of Poore Brother's salt and vinegar kettle chips, finished my bag of beef jerky, and dipped a few pretzels in nutella. I'm still hungry, but I don't have anything good to eat. Damn it.
Hm, my shoulders hurt. I'm going to use my back stick. Excuse me.
Well this is exciting. A brand spankin' new online journal. I won't lie to you, blogger, you're not my first. I've been with two other online journals before you and none of them worked out. They say, though, that until you've found the right blog, you're bound to break up with every other blog until then. Blogger, may you be the blog of my life.
I'm at work and I'm in a haze. I'm so used to getting 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep a night; Counting the few hours I might have gotten collectively after a night of arguing, crying, and making up with my boyfriend just doesn't cut it. It was a necessary confrontation and I don't regret it, but shouldn't there be a cosmic rule that outlaws work days immediately following sleepless nights? This is the first day in weeks that I haven't glued my eyeballs to the screen in search of every possible scoliosis "cure". My level of pain dictates the level of stress and the amount of my "scoliosis searching" for the day, so since I'm feeling relatively okay today, I'm not in full panic. The decrease in pain could be attributed to my new Maxie Backsie MA Roller (or, as I like to call it, my "back stick"), but I don't know. When you're in as much pain as I am, you're willing to try anything short of voodism and, when your pain actually lessens, you don't question why it did. You just close your eyes and hope it lasts for as long as possible.
Last night I cried as I talked to Jason about how overwhelmed I felt with scoliosis. The cause and cures of scoliosis are inconclusive at best, leaving victims of this disease devastatingly alone in their quest to find an answer. I already think too much and too far ahead as it is. With scoliosis, my mind explodes like a can of paint crashing against a brick wall.
I have a consultation with a new orthopedic surgeon who specializes in scoliosis in 2 weeks. He is the third surgeon I've seen, but I have to know one more time. Do I qualify for surgery?
I cried over my fear of not knowing which avenue to take (massage therapy in Tampa? chiropractic in Minnesota? scoliotic bed from Korea? surgery?). A part of me wants my body to worsen just so the surgeon will say "Yes, you qualify for surgery and it is your only option." My cousin, Michael, thinks that's a terrible way to think. But I'd rather have a single, clear path to wellness than live in a grey area with hundreds of options that I must sort through and that I cannot afford.
I've read enough journals and articles to have a good idea of what to expect before, during, and after surgery. I don't fear pain; I fear facing pain alone. Scoliosis surgery is no small matter. Ribs are cut, muscles are damaged, vertebrae are fused with metal rods. Yet it is the recovery, not the surgery itself, that is painful for the person and his/her family. A full recovery takes several months, but I would be fully incapacitated for the first two weeks. I'd need help with everything - eating, showering, dressing, even going to the bathroom. My parents and I do not have a supportive, understanding relationship. They would help with every physical need, but it is the emotional support that I fear I will lack. I approached Jason with this and my fear of not being able to go to the bathroom by myself, to which he replied, "I'll get out my supersoaker".
It was the first time I'd ever wholeheartedly laughed about anything pertaining to scoliosis.
Before we fell asleep, I asked him, "Will you take care of me if I'm sick?" With his eyes closed, he replied, "Yes, in fact I'm looking forward to it. You just need hurry up and get sick...a sniffle, a cold, anything will do. I'll even wipe your ass. Now go to sleep."
