... and i feel fine

around 6 a.m. this morning...

hubbie: it's the end of the world in 10 minutes!
me: there's a time??
hubbie: 6:11!
me: oh.
...

hubbie: 2 minutes!
me: hold me!
hubbie: (produces countdown clock on his cell phone)
me: what happens when time runs out?
hubbie: it goes blank.
both: (watching intently... 5 seconds.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.. website appears to shake and scatter, then errors out.  and then...)
me: is it counting up now?
hubbie: yeah.  i'm going to take a shower.
...

hubbie: congratulations!
me: we made it through like, 3 apocalypses.
hubbie: i know, how many generations could say that?
...

around 7:15 a.m...

me (through text): power just went out!
hubbie: lol!


i love having someone to have fun with!

twelve

happy 12/12/12!

received a text from the hubbie this afternoon:

12:12 on 12/12/12.  Love you!

what else could i do but smile?  i love celebrating the little things.

cheese, please

every now and then, i get an odd craving for something i haven't had in a long time.  my cravings usually lean toward the sweet variety, so it's a rare day that i want something salty.  i also don't keep junkfood in the house, so satisfying a craving usually involves a random trip to the store.

 

this morning i woke up wanting cheetos.  i had dreamt about them (don't ask me why), so even after i had tried all morning to push them out of my mind, all my eyes could see were orange.  i hadn't had cheetos in several years.  i couldn't remember the last time i had had cheetos.  i had to get my hands on a bag of frickin cheetos.

 

the minute i left the house, i drove to wawa.

 

once inside, i made a beeline for the snack aisle.  cheese curls, nah.  not today.  oh!  there they were, in a giant bag though -- nevermind, not the puffs.  i wanted the crunchy kind, the bright orangey, powdery, fake-cheesy goodness.  i vigorously scanned the shelves.  what kind of wawa was this?  aha!  i spotted the tiger i was looking for.  the one with the sunglasses.

 

i grabbed a bag and contemplated about getting another, but knew i'd only need the one.

 

in the car, i enjoyed every single morsel, down to the very last crumb, and then shamelessly licked the orangey powder off my fingers.

 

it's funny how cravings go, at least for me  -- once satisfied, they're dissipated -- just as quickly as they've come.

freaky friday

so let me lay out the scene:  it's a quiet morning.  i'm stopped at a light behind 2 cars, around the corner from a middle school.  i'm on the last leg of my commute, just a few blocks from the hospital.

 

i see a flash of something in my periphery, something fast.  i manage to catch a glimpse of tail lights on the back of a sky blue car as it whirs by on the sidewalk.  there's a rumble of noise, like the car is accelerating, and there are a few bumps as it sails off the sidewalk and through the intersection.  next thing i know, i see sparks -- the utility pole is teetering, power lines are falling, and then the traffic light is out.  the car only stops when it's headfirst into a tree, it's front end a welded V against the trunk.  and then... white smoke.

 

besides my initial reaction -- OMGWTFISTHISADREAMDIDIREALLYJUSTSEETHAT? -- i wanted to know if the person inside the car was alright.  there seemed to be a collective hesitation from the others in their cars around me, wondering what to do next, as i'm sure everyone else was as stunned as i was to witness the bizarre sequence of events.  finally, the 2 cars in front of me inched forward carefully (as there was nothing to tell us when to go), and i paused next to the car to look in.  the windows were somewhat fogged up but the guy inside looked to be okay.. from what i could see, he carried an odd expression of almost "wow, that sure woke me up" mixed with "boy, am i in trouble."  i originally thought maybe he was being chased, but saw no other cars around.  then i had thought, what a jerk for being in such a hurry that he had to drive up on the sidewalk.  didn't seem like he'd be going anywhere soon after that, though.

 

people were stopping and approaching the car, so i thought it was safe to move on to avoid starting a traffic jam.  then, once the initial shock wore off, i offered up a silent prayer of thanks that no one else had been hurt.  there could have been pedestrians, especially children around.  someone could have been driving through that intersection at that exact moment -- but thankfully no one was.

 

what a way to start a friday.

bugged out

i had my first bug encounter this morning at the new house.  or rather, outside of it.  i knew it was inevitable, but nothing could have prepared me for it.  not even after my husband had said soberly, "we live in the woods... there are going to be bugs."  i knew that.  what could i expect, really?  there was no denying i had already seen those dead spider-cricket things we kept finding in the house, but they would magically disappear.  (okay, maybe not magically).  but after i'd spot them, i'd scrunch up my nose and pretend they weren't there, and the next day, they'd really be gone.  (my husband is so gracious sometimes).

 

back to the bug story.  so to start this off, it would make sense if i started from the beginning with the events from last night.

 

since our driveway at the new house is about a quarter-mile long, we leave our trash bin near the end.  so as today was trash day, i loaded up the trash in my car trunk to drive it down the night before.  since it was pitch black, i was relying on my headlights to unload.  but i soon realized the headlights wouldn't stay on unless my car door stayed open while i worked.  so this must have been when mr. ugly creepy bug made his way into my car without my knowing it.

 

i discovered the unwanted insect this morning, after i'd driven down the driveway and made a right down my street.  he dropped from above me and landed on my hand.  i freaked, of course, which means i screamed and shook my hand until he landed on the floor mat beneath me.  he wasn't moving, so i assumed he was dead.  okay, i could deal with a dead bug in my car so long as he was really dead.  but he wasn't, because when i glimpsed again, he was squirming, or shall i say slivering, and when i peaked again, he was nowhere in sight.

 

i hate that. 

 

so i slammed on the brakes, parked the car in the middle of my street, and got out.  there was no way i'd be able to drive to work knowing there was something with that many legs crawling around in my car.

 

i extracted the mat and found him in the middle of it, so proceeded to slam the mat against the asphalt, hoping to shake him free.  he wasn't going anywhere.  i shook harder.  once i couldn't see him anymore (and checked my pants and shoes to make sure he hadn't snuck his way back into my life), i stuffed the mat back in its place, jumped back in my car, and drove away.

 

the whole episode had only delayed me a total of 4 minutes.

 

and lucky you, you lived to see another day, bug.

 

now just stay out of my car.

storage capacity

i used to pride myself on my ability to remember just about everything, but of course with time, this has changed (more to remember, less space to save it all on?).  i don't think i've ever been very good at remembering movies and books, though.  it's probably because i watch and read so many.  i'll retain the main theme, but the details are usually alittle fuzzy.

 

my husband finds this rather amusing.  he says he likes watching movies again with me because it's like i'm watching them for the first time.  i ooh and aah in just the right places.  i laugh, i cry, and i can enjoy the films all over again more than once.  i can be surprised about things that apparently are vital to the plot, but somehow i've forgotten.  i have a friend who can remember ridiculous details about books we've read and then relay them perfectly as if she'd just read them.  take the twilight books, for example.  now that the movie has finally come out almost 4 years after i read breaking dawn, i could hardly piece together the sequence of events.  when the finale came, i was on the edge of my seat, combing through my memory.  was this what had really happened?  what was going on??  i wish i could remember the ending!  but oh, it was exciting.  again!

 

maybe it just means that my brain wants to leave storage space for the important things.

listen closely

i've often thought of myself as a good listener.  i don't say this only because others have told me so, but because i'll find that people tell me things that i don't think they would otherwise.  i'm not talking about close friends letting it out there as close friends would; i'm talking about those who are barely acquaintances and sometimes even strangers telling me about their struggles that they probably wouldn't normally share with someone they barely knew.  at my last job, i had several family members of patients request medical records and found myself playing a part in what could probably be close to qualifying as therapy sessions, just listening to them vent.  it got to the point where i requested suggestions from the bereavement department about how best to handle those situations.

 

my father has always been a very good listener.  throughout my life, when i speak to him, i feel as if he digests all of the information i've told him and really weighs it in his mind before responding.  innately i've always been quiet, but i think i learned to truly listen from him.

 

so remember, this girl may be quiet, but she's always listening.

in with the new

i made a stop over at the "old" house today to start cleaning out the refrigerator.   (technically the old house is newer than the new house, but it's the only way i can distinguish them since they're both ours.   confusing, much?   it seems to make sense in my head).   christmas lights were up all over the neighborhood and our house looked pretty lonely being in the dark.  i didn't want to stay for much longer than necessary because the emptiness made me alittle sad and nostalgic, even though we aren't officially out yet.   i guess the most sobering part of being there was that suddenly it was not our house anymore as quickly as it had become it.   it's almost like a shell now of the house we once knew and loved, a part of our former lives.
 

i don't think i expected it to happen so quickly, that our new house could feel so right, so much like home.   it was almost like we have always belonged here.   i had my reservations about safety and maintenance, among other things, but i think my husband said it best when i got home (to THE home): "i love our house... being able to wake up in the morning and just feel comfortable... and happy."
 

most mornings i wake up to the sun shining through the window, the crows squawking and tapping on the sunroom window, the deer visiting in our yard like permanent statues.   when there's a full moon, like the other night, it illuminates everything and makes the snow especially bright.   it's quiet nestled back where we are, but it's not-too-quiet either that we can't hear the creatures all around us.   i don't think i've ever enjoyed a house more.   it's almost like we're on some kind of retreat, a cabin-in-the-woods type feeling, and sometimes i can't believe we actually live here.. in our little cabin.   in OUR woods.

 

now, if only i could get some more unpacking done, then i'd truly feel at peace.

seconds

“Seconds”

Thanksgiving 2012

This is the first year my husband and I are hosting Thanksgiving, and in our new house, just days after moving in. We made sure to unpack most of the kitchen, as we would obviously need it, and the sunroom, which will also be doubling as the dining room. Then, we walked into Lowe’s right after the movers left and ordered a refrigerator on the spot for next-day delivery. Though most of the other rooms are still in boxes and I can’t locate the majority of our belongings, logistically we’re ready (or as ready as we’ll ever be). Our families had come up with the idea -- to celebrate Thanksgiving at the new place -- even before the formal paperwork had been signed, and their excitement was palpable. And contagious. So you could say its alittle ambitious. Or a tad crazy. At least one thing is certain -- alot can change in a year’s time.

My husband once asked me what I wanted in a house. I’d immediately exclaimed, “Trees!” Our first house was in a fairly newer neighborhood, with young trees and therefore no shade whatsoever. Great for the garden, but not exactly ideal for us to be enjoying (er, melting in) the outdoors on our back patio. “What else?” he’d prompted. “A wrap-around porch or deck,” I responded, “like in The Notebook.” Although I fully understood that we didn’t live in the south, I’d always been attracted to historic homes, ones with character. And porches. Anthony had agreed. “I don’t want a cookie-cutter house,” he’d said. Then he went on to ask if there were any other “requirements” I’d want. “Hmm... a fireplace would be nice.” My parents had a fireplace in our house growing up, but I don’t remember it ever being lit. Most of the time it stored crates of my dad’s old VHS tapes of basketball games. (Once, he’d mistakenly taped over a TV special of Alice in Wonderland, at the most climactic part where the Jabberwocky makes an appearance, and we were oh-so-mad! -- but I digress). My desire for a fireplace probably stemmed from the many happy Christmas Eves spent at my in-laws’, in our PJs, eating a feast of seven fishes, watching the football game, or playing board games by the fire. It’s one of the few days in the year that I actually feel completely relaxed, so why wouldn’t I want that in my next home?

When we summarized our list, it wasn’t very long, but the challenge was to find all those key ingredients in the location that we wanted. When we stumbled upon the house, neither of us were expecting it but we both knew -- in the same way we had with the first one. It didn’t fit in with our original downsizing plan, but it didn’t have to. Even after weeks had passed following that first showing, I couldn’t push the house out of my mind. “Can we do it?” I’d asked my husband. He’d said we could, and so we did.

A year ago, I wouldn’t have thought this possible, that I’d be typing this annual Thanksgiving message in a house literally in the middle of the woods. I wouldn’t have believed that I could watch the sunrise from my window or deck, that I’d be visited by deer on a regular basis right outside my door, or that I could go for a hike in my own backyard. And I would have never dreamed we’d spend our five-year wedding anniversary camped “in” in sleeping bags by our very first fire, content to be sleeping on the floor after making it official (since Hurricane Sandy blew through our scheduled closing date).

This is the first time in a long time that I can’t detail what our Thanksgiving is going to be like. Instead of gathering around my parents’ table, we’ll be gathered around ours. Will our kitchen feel the hustle of feet bustling around its floors? Will our oven be able to hold its own (or turn on, for that matter), as I bake my first-ever Thanksgiving turkey? Will we have enough chairs? Plates? Glasses? Drinks? In the end, whatever the outcome, I’m grateful for our families coming together and sharing in our happiness. Because without them, there wouldn’t be much thanks to be giving.

Dad, your unwavering support is a comfort to me. You are always at my side with every step I take, and I can trust in you to not only listen, but also to really hear me. Thank you for taking the time to be with me during my procedures or to check out a potential house or to meet me halfway to pick up Sarah so it would save me time driving. All of those things display your constant care and facilitation of our family.

Mom, one hug from you and all my fears and reservations melt away. I can not even express how grateful I was that you were there each time (all three times) to nurse me back to health this year. You came through when I needed you most, even when I didn’t even know that myself. I am blessed to have a mother as nurturing and attentive as you.

Rach, somehow our conversations can go from work to sweaters with cats on them to who the Glee cast is dating -- but I love it. We can talk about literally nothing and end up laughing until we cry. It’s little moments like that that I look forward to, and to remember to not always take life so seriously!

Sarah, thank goodness for our weekly (sometimes daily) phone calls! I’m glad that I can be your sounding board as you’ve so often been mine. As you’ve transitioned to the working world, you make me prouder every day. I have faith that you’ve found your calling and will continue to grow and develop in your role.

John, thanks for taking care of not only Rach, but our entire family. Whether it’s fixing computers or cars or just being asked for an opinion, you give it willingly and freely, no questions asked.

Anthony, my love. If I could count the number of times I’ve thanked God for you, I’d run out of numbers. You have given me hope when I’ve lost faith, solace when my tears won’t stop, understanding when no one else seems to be on my side. With you, I know we can face whatever life deals us and that we’re richer than any pot could be.

Dad (Rediger), I (we) are so appreciative of how much you have taught and continually teach us in our every day. Whether it’s related to gardening or cooking or DIY around the house, in your own way, you’ve shown us that life is rather simple and uncomplicated (as long as we have you to help)!

Mom (Rediger), thank you for reminding me about the importance of humility. Often, it’s your unspoken, practical approach to everything that resonates with me; it makes me take a moment to think about the intentions of my actions and how I can strive to do better and to keep giving back. You’ve shown me that time is not to be wasted and to be appreciative of each day given.

Jana, banana... you really made a statement this year at your competition and showed the determination and discipline to place! That same determination shines through in all you do to give to us. It could be sending a silly message or picture or a random call or visit. Your gestures are always appreciated and I couldn’t be luckier to have such a generous, selfless person as a sister.

Nan, I cherish every moment I can spend with you, chatting or laughing, or just sitting quietly beside you, leaning on your fortitude. Thank you for enlightening us through your experiences and lust for life. Please continue to share them with us!

To my loved ones -- thank you for sharing in our joy. As long as we have you to share it with, the other “stuff” will always go second.

tote my vote

it's election day, which means that the incessant attack ads that have polluted our TVs and airwaves, and the endless campaign pestering via e-mails, phonecalls, snail mail, and knocks on our door will finally, finally be over.  finally.

 

hubbie and i arrived at the polls as soon as they opened this morning, where there was already a line out the door.  we stood behind a father and his son, an obvious first-time voter.  i overheard the father remark dryly to his son (about the long line/waiting in the cold) that "this is your freedom."  i couldn't help but smile.  i like seeing people out exercising their right to vote.

 

but that's about all i'll ever say on the subject.  believe me, people have tried to figure me out at times -- prying for information, telling me what party they're affiliated with in hopes i'll reciprocate -- but mum's the word.  besides the news, i've found that social media is a huge outlet for people to voice their opinions about the candidates, whether others want to hear/read it or not.  i've never felt that same need to broadcast my stance on the topic.  sure, i have my opinions about many issues.  i watched the debates and discussed them with my husband.  i educate myself about topics i feel strongly about and believe affect me.  yet i don't need to open up about where i stand.  i hardly even talk politics with my family.  it's not like i wouldn't share... it's mostly that i believe my vote is my own, and i made it count by showing up today.

 

i hope everyone had the chance today to make their vote count.

five

"Five"

If I could grasp our memories
And count them all by hand
I'd start with the most perfect day --
When we traded wedding bands

And with every year that follows
A celebration comes and goes
With every number added
My love for you still grows

So ONE would be the year
All our firsts turned out to last
And ONE would be that bite of cake
We re-froze in the past

Then TWO became adopting
A second furry friend
TWO spent in a hot air balloon
Marveling at a sky that had no end

Next, our travels took us
To Taiwan and my extended fami-Lee
Cherry blossoms in spring, Niagara in the fall
Dinner on a boat to commemorate year THREE

Year FOUR began in a helicopter
Then Mexico, for a birthday surprise
We partied with my sister when she tied the knot
Then Cape May -- for contentment undisguised

Now, it's time to toast to number FIVE
Even when life isn't always perfect or good
I know I have you and that's all that counts
So happy anniversary, babe, in this house made of wood.

written 10.27.12

all you need is love

i've been on a reading kick lately, of the romance kind.  it's probably not the kind you may be thinking of though.  i've never really been into "classic" romance novels as i've thought them to be somewhat melodramatic (have you ever seen their covers??), and quite... ahem, descriptive.  almost frighteningly descriptive.  the ones i've been plowing through are PG-13 and read more like romantic comedies.  but i guess they would fall in the "romance" genre.

 

anyway, i've found that what draws me to these books is the same reason why i flock to rom-com movies: love.  the sappiness, the cheesy professions of feelings, the guaranteed happy endings.  how many books can be written about love?  how many ways can a person read about love?  how many thoughts can be made and shared about love?  tons upon tons.  and it never gets old.

 

i love it really, that one emotion can hold so much power.

eyes wide open

i LOVE to sleep.  then why does it take so darn long for me each night to actually make it to my bed?

 

i think i tell myself almost every morning (after hitting the snooze a half dozen times and finally dragging myself up to face the day) that i'll get to bed earlier, that i'll give myself a nice 8 hours of rest.  but who am i kidding?  i'll be lucky if i get 7.  or 6 for that matter.

 

even on nights that i am sleepy, i'll find myself up late working, channel surfing, or reading an entire book on my kindle.  even now, i'm sprawled all over the bedroom floor (as not to disturb my husband), typing this entry, contemplating why i'm not asleep next to him.

 

it's because once i'm up there all snuggled into the blankets and warm, a cat (or 2) at my feet, i'll be awake for hours.  thinking.  about what?  sometimes about how i can stop thinking.  about how i can relax my mind, like tricking myself to sleep.  i've even tried the breathing exercises and pretending i'm weightless kind of thing, but i suppose i'm not cut out for meditation.  counting sheep?  ugh.  my mind sidetracks so easily when numbers are involved.

 

so what's an insomniac to do?  i guess i have all night to figure out the answer.

tough it out

i read this quote last night and found it to be very fitting:

 

Tough Times Never Last, But Tough People Do!  --Dr. Robert H. Schuller

 

it's actually the title of his book, which has now been added to my list.  nevermind that the book is almost as old as i am.  the uncomplicated truth in the title alone is enough to grab my attention.

 

i woke up this morning reinvigorated, giving myself a pep talk, ready to take on whatever came my way.  and boy, was it waiting for me right outside my front door!  so i passed the quote on to someone that seemed to need it just as much as i did, if not more, and witnessed the transformation that took place after i'd shared those 8 simple words.  funny (and amazing) how powerful a few words can be.

game changer

i'm watching the opening ceremony of the olympics in all its london-esque grandeur.  i still remember the excitement of the olympics as a kid, plopping myself in front of the tube (sitting only a few feet away as it was much smaller then).  it's funny, up until a couple of weeks ago i still thought the olympics lasted the whole summer, asking my husband why the games hadn't started yet.  he told me they were just 16 days, going on to say, "that's why they call it '16 days of glory.'"  what, sixteen days?  two weeks??  they had seemed to be much, much longer as a child, probably because i actually watched parts of the games (gymnastics!) instead of seeing updates trending via social media.

ah, how the world has changed.  the ceremony even featured a segment about changing technology and our digital age finished off by an appearance by the inventor of the world wide web, tim berners-lee, who typed in a message that was lit up by the audience and seen by the world: "this is for everyone."

a simple statement, but it really captured the essence of what the games are about.  it's a time of countries around the world to set aside their differences and come together for a moment.  i think that is what is so monumental about the games -- nevermind the pomp and circumstance of the lighting of the torch or the medal count or the backstories -- it's a time of camaraderie and sportsmanship; worldwide team spirit.

let the games begin!

the dark side

i've always had somewhat of a fascination with the dark side of things -- what people normally don't openly talk about or particularly like to talk about.  but it's there, underneath it all, lurking and murky, below the surface.

in my eighth grade health class, out of all the topics we were free to pick from, i chose suicide for my class project.  i can even vividly remember the cover photo i had illustrated for my folder, a black and white sketch done in pencil entitled, "... and her eyes saw... suicide."  i drew an anime-like face of a young girl, her eyes as the center of attention, her pupils telling the story.  i often wonder what my teacher must have thought of me at the time, this shy, quiet girl interested in researching such a deep, dark topic.  but that is what it was; an interest, an allure for the unknown, an unmistakable desire to peek, like the pandora's box-effect.  i wanted to see, despite the stigma, no matter how ugly, how frightening.  i had to see.

in middle school i'd also written a play that my classmates voted on to perform, but this was quickly nixed because the administration deemed it too dark (and i suppose disturbing) to present in front of the student body.  i hadn't understood what the big deal was.  the story (what i remember of it) was about a girl who was frequently visited by a strange, dark man.  i played on the usual good vs. evil theme, so i'll let you guess who represented what.  the girl didn't realize until the last scene who she had been conversing with the entire time, that she'd been secretly battling temptation, and ultimately the magnitude of her decisions at the time she had made them.

i can't say that in adulthood this curiosity has subsided.  i have sometimes thought, is there something wrong with me?  does this make me abnormal? crazy?  it's not like i had exceptional hardship in my life; if anything, i grew up more or less sheltered, fairly well-cushioned.  so perhaps that's what drew me to want to catch a glimpse of what i knew was somewhere in the shadows, ironically what i was being shielded from.  i found it hard to process feelings like love, joy, and peace, without heartbreak, despair, and scarrage.  i needed to understand pain before i could truly cherish liveliness.  i needed to understand life when it wasn't so pretty.  because that's what life is... not always so darn pretty.

when i want a taste of unpretty, i turn to novels of the twisted variety.  anything by augusten burroughs, for example.  recently, i discovered an author by the name of gillian flynn.  the first book i'd read of hers was sharp objects, which my coworker passed on to me.  i wasn't sure how i'd felt about it; it was quite unexpected and shocking to say the least, but it was a story that stayed with me long after i'd finished and passed the book along.  there was a grit and rawness to the storytelling that i'd enjoyed.

a couple of weeks ago, when i was desperate for something good to read, and i mean not-wanting-to-put-down-for-a-minute good, staying-up-til-all-hours-of-the-night good, i stumbled upon gillian flynn's new book, gone girl, as it was one of the top kindle downloads.  i downloaded a sample and started reading.  i was immediately hooked.  it had the same sharp, abrasive writing as her first book.  and from the very first page, it had the psychological mind-screwing suspense i was craving for.  i mean, check out the opening quote:

"Love is the world's infinite mutability; lies, hatred, murder even, are all knit up in it; it is the inevitable blossoming of its opposites, a magnificent rose smelling faintly of blood."  -Tony Kushner, The Illusion

my kind of book.

the story is unbelievable yet believable, a bit unnerving, bone-chilling.  there are twists and turns until the very end, and even then it doesn't end.  it seeps into your subconscious, begging you to think: do we really know the people closest to us?  and if we found out who they really were, what would that knowledge make us do?

it keeps me up at night, wondering in the dark.

homefree

word of my aunt's passing spread like wildfire through my mom's family as news generally does, across miles, across countries, across the pacific.  but this time it was different.  it wasn't another wedding, or baby, or successful business venture.  it wasn't anything to congratulate anyone about.  it wasn't even anything to smile about.  it was simply very sad.

i called my mom, and she was her usual pragmatic self when it comes to these situations, plans to fly back to taiwan already set in motion.  i found myself listening to her reflect upon the last 30 hours of my aunt's life, and the last time she spoke to her sister which actually was while she was in the recovery room with me.  i hadn't realized at the time that the phonecall she had received was from her brother who was with my aunt in the hospital.  i was grateful that my mom had had that precious, precious time with her, even though my aunt had been unable to cognitively respond.

though news of her diagnosis only came a week ago and the prognosis was not good, i was still surprised by how quickly the disease had progressed.  how quickly she was gone.  it was like before i had the chance to even fully understand the magnitude of the situation, it was already too late.

unfortunately, with me growing up in the u.s. and my aunt living overseas, i never really had the chance to know her.  the last time i saw her, thankfully, was my visit to taiwan a couple of years ago, and she embraced my husband and me, using the little bit of english she knew.  though she has been unwell most of my life and sadly most of hers, she found a way to make us smile, just happy we were there and happy she could see us.  and that is how i'll remember her.

i also hold another memory close, not of mine, but of my mom's.  she spoke fondly of my aunt, saying that when they were growing up that she was so carefree, uncaring of what others thought of her, always going with the flow.  and so, my dear aunt, i'm happy you are free again, no longer suffering, and smiling down upon our family where you are.

may you rest in peace always.

third time's the charm?

how does that expression go? third time's the charm? let's hope so.

i'll be honest, i wasn't expecting to go back for outpatient surgery for at least another 6 months, let alone 6 weeks. but that was what the doctor ordered, literally, at my post-op follow-up appointment after we returned from ireland. another procedure in 6 weeks.

this time, it was again at the same facility, and my arrival time was much earlier than the previous times since i was the first patient. although i'm not a morning person, i was grateful for this because it took out alot of the waiting that makes me nervous. the staff noticed in my chart that i had been there not long ago, so would preface with, "like last time.." or "you know the drill." yup, i sure knew the drill.

prep flew by, as after i met my nurse, was examined by my anesthesiologist, was set up with my IV (apparently i have "really tough skin" in my hand, and i'd be lying if it didn't hurt a bit) and shared a word with my doctor, i was up out of my chair again and walking down the hall towards the OR. i was in OR #4 this time, same bright light, different staff. i was directed to scoot my butt along the crease on the table, looked up at the screens and overhead light as my arms were being worked on. i was told i would have a warming blanket, which was nice, and felt it inflating. then the sedation was started, and the warmth spread through me quickly. i focused on blinking like i was trying to stay awake, even heard my heartrate rise incrementally as i struggled (irrationally) to fight the urge to doze. but before long, i felt the enveloping sensation, the ringing in my ears, the fuzzy feeling, as the darkness closed upon me.

then all too quickly, my name was called and i was being wheeled into recovery. "wonderwall" by oasis was playing, one of my favorite songs. my recovery nurse was actually the same nurse i had for prep the last time, and i told her so. she remarked that no wonder my husband and i looked familiar. then there was my mom, my sister, and my dad. "gang's all here!" i felt like saying. after i had something to drink and eat, i was up again and redressed. one of the other nurses recognized me, as she was the one i had for recovery twice before. as i was being wheeled out, she exclaimed, "thanks for keeping us in business!" and gave me a high five. it's crazy how the surgicenter has become such a familiar place, that i'm not the only one who remembers.

no matter how many times i go through this, it doesn't get much easier; the process maybe, because i've gone through it before, but emotionally, i don't think i am ever truly prepared. it's hard, i'll admit that. it's tough when so much is out of your control. and i, for one, have issues learning to trust.

but there is alittle hope in me still. hope that someday, i can look back on all this, all this wanting and waiting, all this physical... crap as being worth it.

third time's the charm? fingers crossed.

memorializing

after i left work today and was crossing the street behind the hospital, i caught the familiar and welcome scent of a barbecue permeating the thick, but somewhat cool, evening air.  is there anything more synonymous with memorial day weekend (besides the actual meaning of the holiday) than a grill?  and barbecues and memorial day always feel like the "kick off" to summer for me, although technically the first day of summer is still a month away.

now that we've finally hit a couple 80-degree days and the threat of one last chill have quickly been forgotten (at least until next year), everyone seems to be in higher spirits (and in alot less clothing).  the transitions between seasons are interesting to witness, especially in a city like the one i work in where it is usually a bit cooler than where i live; on one side of the street are women still donning their leggings and boots while on the other there are some too eager to break out the tanks and flip flops.  i, on the other hand, often feel more comfortable easing from one season into the other, self-conscious about showing some skin (despite my aversion of heat and humidity), especially when that requires exposing my pale, been-hidden-all-winter-and-most-of-spring legs.  the first time is always alittle awkward (as most firsts are), but come memorial day i usually feel ready to let loose.

so here's to a weekend of uninterrupted sun, barbecues, and worst (ahem, most) of all, to pastey-white legs. 

second surge

the title of this post may be misleading, but the scheduling of my second surgery came rather quickly.  i went to my 6-week check-up and my doctor expressed that he wanted to get me in as soon as he could instead of waiting, and his only opening was april 18th.  i was brought in to meet with the surgical counselor right away, where the paperwork was reviewed with me, labwork was ordered, consents were signed, pre-op prescription was called in, and that was that.

although this would be my second surgery and at the same facility which i had a wonderful experience with the first time around, i was still terrified.  who wants to have surgery, ever?  surely not me.  and a few days later i would find out that the date of my surgery coincided with my husband's business trip to CA, so the thought of him not being there only compounded my fears.

once i told my mom the situation, she, being her normal self, took control and stated that she'd be the responsible party before and after surgery.  to my surprise, my dad even took off work to make the drive over (and i found out later that he'd rescheduled a presentation to do this, which touched me very much).  and luckily, my arrival time ended up being scheduled for 11 a.m. and since the hubbie's flight was later that afternoon, he would be able to be there for the pre-op part, which was good.  things were looking up, despite the circumstances.

on the day of, my parents arrived shortly after 9 a.m., armed with food and luggage.  i was in bed, but awake, and hubbie was downstairs on a conference call.  i tried to calm myself like i had the first time by taking my time in the shower and dressing, and not going downstairs until my dad called me down at 10:30.  he asked me why i hadn't blowdried my hair (which i don't do anymore, now that my hair is short :)).  a few minutes later, my mom remaked about the same thing so i went upstairs to appease them both.  five minutes later we were out the door, hubbie leading the way.

my experience this time at the surgicenter was very much the same and also different at some points.  for one thing, my wait time in the waiting room was shorter, and i was called in much sooner than expected.  this time my set-up was in area #5 and i had a different nurse (i actually saw the nurse i had the first time who was working with the patient next door, and she brought me a warm blanket later on.  it was comforting to see a familiar face).  hubbie helped me dress into my gown (where i lost a bet about whether it should be open to the back or front - back won) and robe and socks.  my dad noted that my maiden name was in my medical record, discovering that i hadn't changed my name.. yet, which is like a running joke between my husband and me.  we're going on 5 years and i'd never changed my name out of pure laziness; not because i have a stance about this sort of thing, but simply because i had no desire to deal with all the paperwork.  anyway, my nurse then remarked that she was going on 29 years of never changing her name, so we all had a good laugh.  the IV was set up in my hand this time, which i'll admit was kind of freaky watching it go in, and needles generally don't bother me.  (the good thing is it left me with nothing but a red prick mark and no bruising).  i think i had a natural reaction to cough after watching the IV being inserted, and i had the same salt-watery taste that my previous nurse had described.  we reviewed my paperwork and i had a chat with one of the anesthesiologists who described the sedation i would be getting.  then we were left to wait.

hubbie had to catch his flight while we were waiting, so then it was just me and my parents.  i tried to read, but my mind kept floating elsewhere, so my dad kept me talking about my new job.  i think we waited 45 minutes and my dad said a prayer for me.  then another anesthesiologist came and introduced herself, explained what would happen next, put the cap over my head, and draped a blanket over my shoulders.  we walked down the corridor to the split, which was still the hardest part for me, but my mom looked me in the eye and said she'd see me later.  the hallway was chilly and the anesthesiologist said the OR would be too.  we went into OR #2 which felt smaller than the one i'd been in before, but still just as white and bright.  my blanket and robe were stripped and i was positioned on the table (butt in the groove, head on the pillow).  this time i didn't feel the urgency i'd felt with the other prep team.  i was covered with blankets to keep me warm, then strapped in with a large seat belt and my arms were pulled from my sides.  there were 2 gigantic lights overhead, one larger than the other, and 2 TV screens right above me that were only showing colorful blocks at the time.  oxygen was inserted into my nose which felt odd breathing in.  my doctor came by to say hello (and all i could make out was that he had a mask and visor on since my glasses had been removed) and that he'd see me soon.  electrodes were placed on either side by my shoulders and the third in the middle of my torso, the last one especially cold to my skin.  fun. was playing on the radio and the anesthesiologist started singing the words: "tonight... we are young..."  i had the urge to sing along with her.  she told me the medicine would be inserted in my IV, but she didn't have to tell me for me to feel the burning.  it started in my wrist and shot all the way up my arm.  i was told one of the nurses was going to reposition my legs but that nothing would be started until i was fully asleep.  my eyes didn't feel heavy, and i was struck by the same thought that this wasn't going to work.  i felt the nurse move my legs and prayed that i'd fall asleep soon.  and i did.

next thing i knew, i heard voices calling my name and the blackness disappeared.  i woke up much quicker this time with no discomfort.  i was wheeled into recovery and joined in a conversation the nurses were having about ponds facial cream.  one of them asked me if i'd been here recently, and after i said yes, she said she remembered me.  she asked me if i wanted my family, and i did, and since i couldn't see her, i asked for my glasses.  i heard one of my favorite lady antebellum songs playing.  my parents came in and said my procedure was fast.  so fast, that we called my husband and he hadn't made it to the airport yet so we had the chance to talk for a bit.  then i asked again for apple juice and graham crackers.  this time my dad fed me the apple juice.

my mom got me dressed and i was transferred to a comfy chair to wait for my doctor.  he came armed with pictures of the surgery so we could see more clearly what had been done.  he answered our questions, mostly my mom's, and then i was into a wheelchair and rolled down to the car.

again, i have to thank everyone i encountered at the surgicenter who treated me with dignity and professionalism all the way through.  and special thanks to my loving parents, who support me through everything, especially the most difficult times.  they lift me up.

... and feed me and put me on bed rest.  it's nice to be pampered once in awhile.

no pain, no gain

i often keep things inside.  it's just natural for me to turn inward as opposed to outward -- and this can frustrate those closest to me because it takes time before i open up about the battle raging within me.

because i'm fairly quiet too, it can make me hard to read, especially when it comes to my health.  i'll have technicians and nurses constantly ask me if i'm okay, if i'm feeling alright, because i don't make a sound and my face is expressionless.

this morning i had a procedure done (or i should say, an attempt for a procedure to be done), which involved alot of poking and prodding, and let's just call it... pressure.  alot of pressure.  the nurse by my side actually remarked that i was tolerating it really well, but inside it was more like, ow, ow, ouch.  i definitely would have spoken up if i'd felt like i couldn't take it anymore, but i survived it with no more than some jaw clenching and a single tear.  going through all these tests and procedures has made me somewhat of a pro, and i've realized now more than ever that i have a fairly high tolerance for pain... mostly because i see how clinicians react to my non-reactions.

no pain, no gain, right?

in her shoes

a student started today at my job for her one-month internship.  she is finishing up the same program i graduated from so we shared professors and experiences.  it's always comforting to find something in common with someone you've just met, and she seemed to relax once i mentioned that i was familiar with the program and project expectations.

her project will be focusing on my area, so i will be working closely with her over the next few weeks.  i couldn't help but think of myself in her shoes, alittle tentative, not knowing what to expect, trying to make sense of it all and picturing myself as someone like... me, only now.  it reminded me of how far i've come in 8 years (when she asked me what year i graduated, i had to think about how long it's been), still trying to figure things out, a bit more confident, but alot wiser.  and i couldn't help feeling a tiny bit proud.

time does have a way of running away from you... but it also has the ability to show you have far you've traveled.

unfortunate

well, if i were to crack open a fortune cookie today, the little white slip of paper inside would read that there is more surgery is in my future.

and it would be sooner than expected.

so, back to the surgicenter in less than 3 weeks.

bike pike

spring is in the air!  it's been a beautiful week and start to a great weekend, especially because i could enjoy it with the hubbie.  this afternoon we broke out our bikes for the first time this season and rode around the neighborhood.  i was so excited to be riding around that i jumped at the chance to tackle a couple of hills, and boy, are my legs thanking me!  we didn't go much further after that, but we had a nice time feeling the sun on our faces.  next up is getting back into our running shoes.

a lil' vanilla

i finally had a chance to watch vanilla sky, which i've heard described as "crazy" and "nuts" over the years.  i've also heard people remark that you'll just end up asking, "WTF?!" throughout the movie, which is pretty much what i was doing until the final scene.

so what can i say about it?  is it considered a psychological thriller?  sci-fi?  or just some random movie that is completely out there?  probably all of those, more or less.  and although it is a film from 2001, it still manages to get a person thinking.

what happens when someone who seemingly has everything manages to lose it all in an instant?  would you jump at the chance to live your life if you had a second chance?

i'll leave you with the quote that i think answers the above very clearly: "Every passing minute is a chance to turn it all around."

two weeks notice

i don't think leaving a job is ever easy; the only analogy i can come up with is that it's alot like ending a relationship.  when i first started my job at hospice nearly 4 years ago, as part of the orientation program i had a session with one of the bereavement counselors.  this was unique to any orientation i had ever encountered but to my own surprise, i thoroughly enjoyed it.  it was refreshing in a way, like starting anew, and i think it was the sole course during my weeks-long orientation that stuck out in my mind as truly allowing me to mentally prepare for my role.

during the session, i was asked to express the losses in my life.  the counselor explained that losses do not always equate to death, but could be anything from the end of a relationship to the end of a job, like what i had just experienced before coming onboard with hospice.  though i normally am reserved and private in sharing such experiences, i spoke candidly about the difficulty i was having with missing my coworkers (including my husband who still worked there), who were also my friends.  i had been the first among the group who had left on my own accord, so was having a hard time sorting out my feelings about being removed from our circle.  it was during that session that i was able to pinpoint my mixed up emotions as basic feelings of loss and grief, which are natural and part of life.

once recognized and purged of these emotions, i felt free; like a burden had been lifted, like i could properly move on.  and i jumped into my new job with vigor and enthusiasm.

looking back on this, i'm now starting to understand why, when i gave my 2 weeks notice, that i was hit with a sense of urgency -- the same urgency i had had at the job before this when i'd told my manager i was leaving.  i wanted to do anything and everything in my power to "git'er done," as my old boss would say, to tie up all the loose ends, to complete everything i had ever set out to do in my position.  an impossible feat, right?  well, it didn't stop me from trying.  i worked like a crazy person down to the last minute at my previous job (until my manager came over to tell me to stop), and i did pretty much the same thing with this one.  this last week i worked about 12 hours a day, ensuring my staff would be okay, that all my work was transitioned, that my contacts over the years were transferred, that everything was documented in detail.  needless to say, i was incredibly stressed, probably not a term you would normally associate with the last couple of weeks at a job... but this is what i was.  it took a couple stern lectures from my husband before i realized that i couldn't do it all.  that i couldn't control what would happen when i was gone.  that i just had to learn to let go.

like ending a relationship, like saying goodbye, this was just another loss i had to mourn.

but luckily for me, i gained some great friends in the process.