Shit my ex-husband said.

When Katie was a month old and we'd just got past the, "Your daughter could be blind" news from the ophthalmologist, we were driving to a friend's house.  All three kids were in the car,Katie a month old, my middle daughter would have been nineteen months old and my son was eight years old.  My husband turns to me and says, "I only ever wanted two kids."

One night many years later I was sitting at my computer in the family room trying really hard to not pay attention to my very drunk husband, he staggered over to me and leans over me to say, "The only reason I drink this much is because I can't stand being here!"

There was more and apparently it still bothers me.  February is when things finally hit rock bottom for our us.  February is when both of my parents died.  This past February is when we kept taking Katie to emergency.  I feel drained right now between memories and the dregs of flu still plugging my sinuses.  I imagine little dead viruses scattered throughout my sinuses, eaten by white cells, waiting to be flushed, sneezed and coughed out by me.  Maybe that's how it is with memories too, waiting there inside my brain to be flushed out. 

Not all of our marriage was bad, although the end was.  Neither one of us are bad people but I ended up labeled as the bad one, by him at least, because I left;  I asked for a divorce.  I don't think he ever thought I would leave.  He convinced me that I was crazy, that I couldn't manage money, that I couldn't manage without him. 

A good friend of mine died in 2009.  She was a nurse that I worked with.  She was diagnosed with cancer and dead within three months.  She was also only a few years older than me.  It was a huge shock and I realized then that I didn't want to spend the rest of my life, however long that was, with someone who didn't like me.  It was the end for me. 

I was a chronic disappointment to my husband.  It's hard living like that, feeling that weight on you everyday.  It broke me and sadly those feelings linger on to this day, although they usually only bother me when I'm feeling down.  Many years ago, I was nineteen I think, I fainted and bashed my face quite badly.  I have a scar in my eyebrow from that faint.  For years it bothered me and then less and less.  Sometimes though I can still feel it, usually when I'm tired, a faint ache in my right eyebrow, a reminder of an old wound. 

And that's how it is with my ex-husband and my marriage.  A wound that still aches at times, mostly when I'm tired or run down, less and less each year. 

I'm sick.  I can't decide if I have a horrible cold or the flu.  It's probably the flu but I can't tell if I have a fever or not because of the hot flashes.  I'll live but it does amaze me how such a small thing can have such a huge impact. 

I didn't get the job I interviewed for.  I was told I was too emotional, hence the last post.  Turns out the doc who was in on the interview didn't like the fact that I stood up to another doc and advocated for my patient.  Too bad for him.  I am not going to quit advocating for my patients.  So I will be remaining where I am.

Katie was finally back to her old self last Sunday when we went to Special Olympics Bowling.  She has her twinkle back.  She spent a lot of time in emergency over the past month and I'm hoping things will be boring for awhile.

I had a dream about my friend Shirley.  I was in my old house and I went downstairs into the family room.  There were a lot of people there and Shirley was sitting on the couch.  She looked right at me and said, "You can see me, can't you?'.  She was a ghost but I could see her and she looked wonderful, like her old self except she let her hair stay gray.  She was laughing and smiling and complaining about her hair cut.  It was so wonderful to see her, to know that she was okay.

I'm looking for a house to buy but it's frustrating.  I imagine as the weather warms and the economy gets worse, there will be more homes available in my price range.  I am itching to get my hands dirty in a garden.  It will happen;  I just need to be patient, not my strong suit. 

“Compassion is not religious business, it is human business, it is not luxury, it is essential for our own peace and mental stability, it is essential for human survival.”

- Dalai Lama XIV

I'm one of those people that displays every single thought and emotion on my face.  I don't know how not to do that.  I watch other people say one thing and do another.  I watch people backstab and lie.  I watch people get hurt or angry and yet nothing or very little shows on their faces.  Often I feel naked in the world. 

When I'm around intense people, I feel it.  I feel something inside of myself wind tighter.  When things are hectic at work I feel like a whirling dervish.  I become faster but also harder, more abrupt.  Niceties face away.  I can feel this in myself but don't know how to stop it.  Angry people scare me.  I can feel their anger reach through my skin, my body tenses and I get scared and then I get angry back.  Calm people soothe me.  The big guy is calm although sometimes I can feel a deep anger within him and it scares me.  My own anger scares me as well, afraid of what I might do.

Loud noises make me tense.  Too many people.  Too much to do.  Something winds tighter.  I forget that I can let go.  Walking is how I let it go.  Slowly the thing unwinds, loosens, relaxes.  My brain slows down.  It's strange that walking faster slows my brain but that is how is works.  Moving my body eases my brain. 

Strong emotions make me cry.  Sometimes I feel ashamed of crying.  I want to yell at people that I have no control over what comes out of my tear ducts.  Other people are uncomfortable with tears.  It's seen as a weakness or a defect. 

So am I an emotional wreck or an empath?

In the past two weeks Katie has been to emergency three times.  I don't like emergency rooms.  In the last year of my mum's life I spent way too much time in emergency rooms.  In the last three weeks of mum's life we went to emergency half a dozen times I think.  That was two years ago and in my mind the two were getting mixed together.  Katie, Joseph (her caregiver) and I spent all day in emergency on Monday, waiting to see a doctor, waiting for test results, waiting for a room so the doctor could cut into the abscess on Katie's wrist.  The next morning when I checked on Katie her hand was worse, swollen and more painful, so back to emergency.  She's now on IV antibiotics and doing well.  I am so thankful.

I'm scared my daughter will die.  I'm even more scared that her death will be a relief.  Or I'm scared that my heart will be so badly broken by her death that I will never recover.  These are the thoughts I've been having this past week. 

There's more I want to write but I'm worn out.  My second friend with cancer, also a Shirley, is now in the hospital dying.  I wrote her husband an email this evening telling him much I enjoyed working with Shirley. She is a kind, gentle soul with a wonderful sense of humor.  I saw her last week at the Cross when she came in for a scan.  I gave her a hug and I still find it impossible to believe that she has only days left. 

I'm tired of winter.  Tired of cancer and death.  Tired of illness and doctors.  Just tired. 

Reasons why I want to marry the big guy.

I love him.
I like him.
He makes me laugh. 
He farts in bed when I'm sad, just to make me laugh.
He holds me when I cry.
He hugs me every single morning and anytime of the day after that.  He is an awesome hugger.
He's smart and interesting and a very deep thinker.
He's logical.
He's stubborn, as stubborn as me.
He's patient.
He's kind and compassionate.
He's all bark and no bite.
I know he will always have my back.
I like living with him, working with him and traveling with him.
He likes my cooking.
The look on his face when his granddaughter sits in his lap.
Watching him hold hands with the cat.
Watching him play tag with the cat.
His big heart.
His old soul.
His bruised and battered heart.
That gentle, scared part of him that he protects so fiercely but which he lets me see.
He worries about me.
I worry about him.
His laugh.
I trust him to tell me the truth, even when I don't like it.
I trust him with my heart.
He accepts me as I am.     

One of the big guy's images.

I visited my girlfriend on Sunday evening.  I made crème brulee and wanted to drop it off for her. Her husband invited me in and I walked into the family room.  I saw an old Chinese man sitting on the coach, except it wasn't an old Chinese man, it was my girlfriend.  I didn't stay long, their dog was sick and my girlfriend wasn't feeling great.  When I got in the car and drove away I couldn't stop crying.  I couldn't believe I didn't recognize my friend. 

I don't know how to let go of someone I love who is not part of my family.  I can't park myself there.  I'm not her family but I want so badly to take care of her, to take care of all of them.  When I was there on Sunday evening her three girls were all sitting in the family room as well, freshly showered, in their bathrobes.  What was so comforting for me was how peaceful it was there.  Three teenage girls, a sick dog, a sick mom and a father who's taking care of everyone and their home still felt peaceful.  I guess I need to find a way to say goodbye that doesn't invade my friend's family's space. 

Tomorrow I have a job interview in Nuclear Medicine.  The job entails organizing and arranging care for a group of patients with neuroendocrine tumors.  The clinic/hospital that I work at is one of only three in North America that provides lutetium therapy to patients with neuroendocrine tumors.  The job would allow me to grow and learn as a nurse.  I've been studying and doing research for a couple of weeks for my interview.  I really hope I get the job.

I ran into my girlfriend at work today.  When I talked to her yesterday she had mentioned that she was starting a new chemo drug today but I forgot, or rather, I got so busy that I forgot.  And when I went on my break, there she was, sitting near the front door.  Her husband had dropped her off early on his way to work. 

She's so tired.  Tired of appointments.  Tired of having cancer.  Tired of chemo.  Tired of making other people sad.  Tired of feeling tired.  She looks worn out.  The chemo isn't working.  I'm pretty sure this new chemo won't work.  Actually that's not true, I'm very sure the new chemo won't work.  I know the stats, I know her prognosis.  I asked her if she wanted to continue on with her chemo and she said she wasn't sure.  When I asked what her husband said, he said that it was up to her.  Her three girls want her to continue with the chemo.  Her girls are thirteen, fifteen and seventeen.  I don't know if they understand what they're asking of their mother.  Teenagers still believe in immortality. 

I told her to try it if she wants.  She can always change her mind and stop the chemo.  I know I wouldn't continue on with chemo.  I'm a chicken shit.  I hate suffering, physically or mentally.  Palliative chemo involves both mental and physical suffering.  My friend knows she is dying but still can't believe it I don't think.  I don't think I could either.  It's one thing to say, yes, we're all mortal and another to say, this is my last Christmas, my last winter, my last birthday. 

She also knows how much suffering she's causing all of those who love her.  We all know she's dying and we're all grieving.  A part of me would just want to get it over with.  Another part of me would want to hold on to every last day, every last smile, every last hug.  I'm guessing that's how she feels as well.  The worst part would be knowing that the only thing that will ease the suffering of those who love her, is her own death.  We will weep, we will remember her and life will go on, our grief slowing becoming a part of the fabric of our lives.  How do you reconcile all of these contradictory feelings and emotions?  And what do I say to her?