Two years? It's really been two years since I posted here? So much has changed.
Why have I been absent? Because my life is in a constant state of insanity. Work is intense. Two years ago, I had no idea the kind of stress and pressure I'd walked into here. Now, it's all stress and pressure.
Recently, I have seriously considered moving to England. No, really! To be with BB, you ask, dear Diary? No...not to be with BB. A few months ago, we decided to just be friends again. Yes, we still have love for one another, but we were each spending a lot of time feeling sad and lonely, being apart. I told him that I'd rather he be happy than waiting around for us to be geographically together.
I missed my trip to see him in 2016, having surgery at the exact date and time that I was supposed to be stepping on a plane to Manchester. I surprised him last year, but couldn't stay as long as usual. I guess we weren't meant to be romantically together.
Other things that are new (I'll try to be brief).....
We lost my dad's brother and his wife to injuries sustained in a car accident, last year. That has been rough on the family, to lose both brothers so close together.
I've seen SO MANY historical sites and seriously cool things while living here. I'll revisit some for you :) This is a great area, and a good move for us.
Son has a Real Job. Benefits and all! I feel a little better about his future...if he'd only get a place of his own, now! Time to launch, birdie.
A couple of months ago, a very difficult event happened. Our home burned.
Ten days later.... Daughter got married! Her husband is amazing. They are two sides of the same coin. I couldn't have chosen better for her.
And me? Things are not what I thought they'd be at almost-50.
Right now, my life is...I'm not sure what it is. I have a lot of thoughts. A lot of things to express in a space where my family isn't watching. I have thoughts they wouldn't like. And I have many topics to talk about.
I've missed you, dear Diary. But now I'm back.
Friday, June 22, 2018
Friday, May 20, 2016
The People That You Meet
I'm finding all the good geeks. My people! I need my people in this sea of strangers.
There's this guy we'll call Frank. Why Frank? Because he keeps introducing himself to me as Frank, knowing full well that I know his name is not Frank.
He works in the studio. Ther's a full studio/control room setup here for making videos (as you do in a studio). My first day there went something like this:
Director: "Have you met Blogget?" (The answer is yes, several times. But he says,,,,)
"Hi! The name is Frank. And you're Susie, right?"
"Good memory," I say, shaking hands.
Director: "Everything you need is out here in the studio. Excet props. You have to bring any props you want."
Frank: "Except rubber chickens. We have the rubber chickens."
Me: "Of course you do! What would a video be without rubber chickens?"
Frank: "Right?"
Director: "...ok... I'll be in the control room."
Frank: "That's where all the fun happens."
Me: "How so? They don't have the rubber chickens in there."
Frank stops. Gives me a raised brow. "I'm so glad you're on board with this!"
We have a lot in common, Frank and I. A love of Star Wars, Doctor Who, and Firefly. ("Hello. My name is Frank. And I have a model of the Serenity.") We also have British significant others. His wife is from Kent. And BB is from Yorkshire. We have a lot to talk about. ("How about that brown sauce?")
My geekdom has caught the notice of several technology people. Woo hoo!
My mom said something when we were coming out here that has made me pause, though. She said, "I have a feeling this move will be good for you. I hope you meet the love of your life because I don't think you have yet. And I want that for you."
It's true. I've been in love a few times. But I have not had The Love of My Life yet. That makes me sad. It's what I want now, more than almost anything, and I hve this dread that I will meet the end of my days before I meet that person. Before I have that Big Love.
What about BB, you say? He could be that person. We just don't get to spend a lot of time around each other to find out if that's how our lives will entwine. But I long to find out.
Oh how I long. This makes my heart exceptionally heavy. It pains me. I've never had a "This is the Love of my Life" moment. Experiencing love is so important to me, and I've never had that.
It makes me a little angry, too. I know people who have it and don't appreciate having it. I've given my all, and I don't have the opportunity to explore it and find it for myself.
What have I done so wrong to be so forsaken?
As I've said, maybe BB is that person for me. I need time with him, for us to know each other as best we can and discover what we are together. But that's not being given to me. I wait. And wait. And it's making me tired.
I feel the clock ticking. I feel my mortality, and it is devoid of that enveloping, encompassing love that I long so much to share.
Oh, nah-fuck.
There's this guy we'll call Frank. Why Frank? Because he keeps introducing himself to me as Frank, knowing full well that I know his name is not Frank.
He works in the studio. Ther's a full studio/control room setup here for making videos (as you do in a studio). My first day there went something like this:
Director: "Have you met Blogget?" (The answer is yes, several times. But he says,,,,)
"Hi! The name is Frank. And you're Susie, right?"
"Good memory," I say, shaking hands.
Director: "Everything you need is out here in the studio. Excet props. You have to bring any props you want."
Frank: "Except rubber chickens. We have the rubber chickens."
Me: "Of course you do! What would a video be without rubber chickens?"
Frank: "Right?"
Director: "...ok... I'll be in the control room."
Frank: "That's where all the fun happens."
Me: "How so? They don't have the rubber chickens in there."
Frank stops. Gives me a raised brow. "I'm so glad you're on board with this!"
We have a lot in common, Frank and I. A love of Star Wars, Doctor Who, and Firefly. ("Hello. My name is Frank. And I have a model of the Serenity.") We also have British significant others. His wife is from Kent. And BB is from Yorkshire. We have a lot to talk about. ("How about that brown sauce?")
My geekdom has caught the notice of several technology people. Woo hoo!
My mom said something when we were coming out here that has made me pause, though. She said, "I have a feeling this move will be good for you. I hope you meet the love of your life because I don't think you have yet. And I want that for you."
It's true. I've been in love a few times. But I have not had The Love of My Life yet. That makes me sad. It's what I want now, more than almost anything, and I hve this dread that I will meet the end of my days before I meet that person. Before I have that Big Love.
What about BB, you say? He could be that person. We just don't get to spend a lot of time around each other to find out if that's how our lives will entwine. But I long to find out.
Oh how I long. This makes my heart exceptionally heavy. It pains me. I've never had a "This is the Love of my Life" moment. Experiencing love is so important to me, and I've never had that.
It makes me a little angry, too. I know people who have it and don't appreciate having it. I've given my all, and I don't have the opportunity to explore it and find it for myself.
What have I done so wrong to be so forsaken?
As I've said, maybe BB is that person for me. I need time with him, for us to know each other as best we can and discover what we are together. But that's not being given to me. I wait. And wait. And it's making me tired.
I feel the clock ticking. I feel my mortality, and it is devoid of that enveloping, encompassing love that I long so much to share.
Oh, nah-fuck.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
It's pronounced Nah-Fuck
Really. It is. Quit giggling!
And here I am. Things have happened so quickly! I'm at my new job now, wrapping up the fourth week. Can you believe it? We've moved into a house. The truck arrived just over a week ago, and we've still living with oh so many boxes! Can't find anything.
I made the Big Drive with my mom and my dogs. That was an adventure! Four days on the road with the pups! They traveled well, thank God!
When I left Colorado, I got ris of a lot of stuff. I mean, a LOT. Had to make some bold decisions about what to take and what to leave. I decided that I'm done with heels. I'm not comfortable in them anymore. With my vision challenges, I'm not stable in them anymore. Doughter won't be home again for another year, so she can't take them from me. So...I called Jacob. Who is now living full time as a transgender woman. I will now use the proper pronoun for...her. She came and got the shoes from me. It was actually good to visit with her again. I wish I'd had more time that day, and I was a terrible mess. not so presentable with all the packing and cleaning, but that's the best I cojuld do at the time. I'm sure I was a shock to see and left a poor impression, but I suppose it's too late for worrying about such things.
I had to fly out here and start work well before the truck was ready to arrive at home. That meant spending a few days on my own. I picked a hotel across from my office so that transportation wouldn't be a problem. I found a new eye specialist here and got my monthly injection in the "good" eye, to keep it as good as it can be. When the first day of the new job came, I got up early and had my outfit all picked out. I was nervous, but ready to face the day and start the process of proving myself all over again.
Then, that morning, I had a moment of pure brilliance. Is the sarcasm coming through? I decided I needed to trim my toenails. Great idea. Pure genius.
Because I'm not blind at all....
And I'm not diabetic with a touch of neuropathy in my toes....
I sat down on the bed with my super-sharp clippers. I felt the edge of the nail and lined up the blade.
And nothing. It felt like I missed. I tried again.
And my hand felt wet. So I pulled it away to check.
Blood. Lots of it.
I Nah-fucked it up good!
My neuropathy proved worse than I thought. I felt nothing, but a chunk of my toe was missing. I'd cut into it, deep.
On the first day of work. Blood. Everywhere. I mean, I made a real mess. It was a warzone. Blood stains on the carpet.with each step I took. On the bedding. On the towels. Oh so many towels.
I tried applying pressure. No good. I washed it because hotel carpets can't be the most sanitary of surfaces. The bleeding slowed an hour later, but didn't stop.
I called my mom. I sent her a picture because I couldn't see it clearly. "Yeah, you cut it deep," she said.
"You probably need stitches."
"But it's the first day of my job!"
"You sure can't walk on it."
Shit. I'd have to call my new boss and have her pick me up. I did, and made up some story about stepping on broken glass. I bandaged the hell out of that toe. The stitches would have to wait.
As I went by the front desk of the hotel, I stopped the clerk for a word.
"I want to give housekeeping a heads up," I said. "When they see my room, they're in for a shock and a mess. I'm so sorry. I'm okay, and there are no bodies to find. But I bloodied the place up pretty good, and I'm so sorry."
She appreciated the warning.
That night, a friend of my sister's took me to an ER near where our new house is. The place was bare and spartan and what was there was bolted down. Crime much? The PA who saw me decided no stitches, just skin glue. He put that on, bandaged it up, and sent me on my way. No antibiotics to keep infection away, or any some such. It was probably obvious that I didn't need pain meds. I can't feel the wound, still.
When I changed the bandage the next day, the glue came off with it. Great.
It's been healing nicely, though, over the last almost-four weeks. It still bleeds a tiny bit, but no redness and infection. I'm religious with the bandages.
I'll leave this for now. I have more to tell, but that's another story!
And here I am. Things have happened so quickly! I'm at my new job now, wrapping up the fourth week. Can you believe it? We've moved into a house. The truck arrived just over a week ago, and we've still living with oh so many boxes! Can't find anything.
I made the Big Drive with my mom and my dogs. That was an adventure! Four days on the road with the pups! They traveled well, thank God!
When I left Colorado, I got ris of a lot of stuff. I mean, a LOT. Had to make some bold decisions about what to take and what to leave. I decided that I'm done with heels. I'm not comfortable in them anymore. With my vision challenges, I'm not stable in them anymore. Doughter won't be home again for another year, so she can't take them from me. So...I called Jacob. Who is now living full time as a transgender woman. I will now use the proper pronoun for...her. She came and got the shoes from me. It was actually good to visit with her again. I wish I'd had more time that day, and I was a terrible mess. not so presentable with all the packing and cleaning, but that's the best I cojuld do at the time. I'm sure I was a shock to see and left a poor impression, but I suppose it's too late for worrying about such things.
I had to fly out here and start work well before the truck was ready to arrive at home. That meant spending a few days on my own. I picked a hotel across from my office so that transportation wouldn't be a problem. I found a new eye specialist here and got my monthly injection in the "good" eye, to keep it as good as it can be. When the first day of the new job came, I got up early and had my outfit all picked out. I was nervous, but ready to face the day and start the process of proving myself all over again.
Then, that morning, I had a moment of pure brilliance. Is the sarcasm coming through? I decided I needed to trim my toenails. Great idea. Pure genius.
Because I'm not blind at all....
And I'm not diabetic with a touch of neuropathy in my toes....
I sat down on the bed with my super-sharp clippers. I felt the edge of the nail and lined up the blade.
And nothing. It felt like I missed. I tried again.
And my hand felt wet. So I pulled it away to check.
Blood. Lots of it.
I Nah-fucked it up good!
My neuropathy proved worse than I thought. I felt nothing, but a chunk of my toe was missing. I'd cut into it, deep.
On the first day of work. Blood. Everywhere. I mean, I made a real mess. It was a warzone. Blood stains on the carpet.with each step I took. On the bedding. On the towels. Oh so many towels.
I tried applying pressure. No good. I washed it because hotel carpets can't be the most sanitary of surfaces. The bleeding slowed an hour later, but didn't stop.
I called my mom. I sent her a picture because I couldn't see it clearly. "Yeah, you cut it deep," she said.
"You probably need stitches."
"But it's the first day of my job!"
"You sure can't walk on it."
Shit. I'd have to call my new boss and have her pick me up. I did, and made up some story about stepping on broken glass. I bandaged the hell out of that toe. The stitches would have to wait.
As I went by the front desk of the hotel, I stopped the clerk for a word.
"I want to give housekeeping a heads up," I said. "When they see my room, they're in for a shock and a mess. I'm so sorry. I'm okay, and there are no bodies to find. But I bloodied the place up pretty good, and I'm so sorry."
She appreciated the warning.
That night, a friend of my sister's took me to an ER near where our new house is. The place was bare and spartan and what was there was bolted down. Crime much? The PA who saw me decided no stitches, just skin glue. He put that on, bandaged it up, and sent me on my way. No antibiotics to keep infection away, or any some such. It was probably obvious that I didn't need pain meds. I can't feel the wound, still.
When I changed the bandage the next day, the glue came off with it. Great.
It's been healing nicely, though, over the last almost-four weeks. It still bleeds a tiny bit, but no redness and infection. I'm religious with the bandages.
I'll leave this for now. I have more to tell, but that's another story!
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
The Winds of Change
It's been very windy here on the Western Slope of Colorado lately. It seems appropriate.
After talking with my family, I decided to see what would possibly be available to me in Virginia. A few feelers wouldn't hurt, and those things take forever to pan out (and often don't), anyhow.
I looked. And waited. And looked some more. And waited.
The phone rang twice.
The first time, the people turned out to be so unprofessional that I wouldn't work with them, in any case. Rude people are not who I want to spend all day, every day, working with. Life is too short for that.
The second time, though. Now, that was golden.
And quick. I was out there interviewing so fast that I didn't know what hit me. I showed them what I can do. I kicked ass. They said they'd make a decision in a week or so. "We hope you like us as much as we like you," they said.
By the time a week had passed, I'd already accepted the job and put in my notice at work (which has caused general panic and mayhem).
And they want me there soon. Very soon.
So Blogget and her pups and her family are trucking it to Virginia.
This brings particular challenges. Like, I can't drive. We don't have a place to live yet. I'll be there on my own for a couple of weeks, at least, before anyone else gets there. How do I get the dogs there? And Daughter's car? When are the moving trucks coming and where are they going? And where is the money coming from?
Bleh!!!
Can I fast forward until this part is all done?
I'm both frightened and excited about the new adventure. I've never lived by the coast before. I've not lived in a large city. I haven't lived in the East!
Buckle up, dear Diary. We're in for quite a ride for the next few weeks.
Wheeeeeeeee!
After talking with my family, I decided to see what would possibly be available to me in Virginia. A few feelers wouldn't hurt, and those things take forever to pan out (and often don't), anyhow.
I looked. And waited. And looked some more. And waited.
The phone rang twice.
The first time, the people turned out to be so unprofessional that I wouldn't work with them, in any case. Rude people are not who I want to spend all day, every day, working with. Life is too short for that.
The second time, though. Now, that was golden.
And quick. I was out there interviewing so fast that I didn't know what hit me. I showed them what I can do. I kicked ass. They said they'd make a decision in a week or so. "We hope you like us as much as we like you," they said.
By the time a week had passed, I'd already accepted the job and put in my notice at work (which has caused general panic and mayhem).
And they want me there soon. Very soon.
So Blogget and her pups and her family are trucking it to Virginia.
This brings particular challenges. Like, I can't drive. We don't have a place to live yet. I'll be there on my own for a couple of weeks, at least, before anyone else gets there. How do I get the dogs there? And Daughter's car? When are the moving trucks coming and where are they going? And where is the money coming from?
Bleh!!!
Can I fast forward until this part is all done?
I'm both frightened and excited about the new adventure. I've never lived by the coast before. I've not lived in a large city. I haven't lived in the East!
Buckle up, dear Diary. We're in for quite a ride for the next few weeks.
Wheeeeeeeee!
Tuesday, March 22, 2016
The Sound of Silence
Sometimes, the quiet surface of the water hides a strong undertow, dear Diary.
I've been silent a long time. Many things have happened, good and bad. Change is on the wind today. Time for an update, from this very bad blogger.
Daughter is enjoying her mission. I spoke with her by FaceTime on Christmas Day, and that was glorious. I hear from her in email each Monday, and those are glorious emails! She is so happy! I miss her terribly, but what a wondrous adventure she is having!
Son is still adrift. My dad's death has knocked him for a loop. I'm hoping change is on the horizon for him, too, and in a positive way. He needs to find what makes his heart go pitter-patter and makes his blood warm. I wish that so much for him.
For my part of things, my eyes are still a challenge. I've had three surgeries since we last spoke, dear Diary. That's five in all. My left eye is currently filled with silicone oil, which is holding my retina in place. It doesn't look good, dear Diary, as far as the prognosis goes. The right eye is improving, but needs injections every four weeks to keep the swelling and damage at bay.
I really try hard to not let this slow me down, as much as possible. My boss says I'm her hero, for all my perseverance. I don't know about that, but I just can't let this bring me to a standstill. I just cannot! Maybe I'm just stubborn. I've gotten to know accessibility features and other help resources very well so that I can keep on keepin' on! Traveling internationally was interesting, but American Airlines did a brilliant job of helping me get where I needed to go. And the assistance folks at the airport in Manchester are unparalleled. I love them!
So, I did go back to England in November. It was cloudy and chilly and rainy - and beautiful to me! Each town has a Christmas Market that pops up in the town square, with food and booths with all kinds of wares for perfect gift-giving. I spent time in Bradford, Leeds, Nottingham, and Manchester. Of course, the Robin Hood lore was irresistible in Nottingham, and I fell in love with Nottingham lace. And a lovely little cafe for rescue kitties who are up for adoption. Coffee and kitties. A fantastic concept!
BB took good care of getting me from place to place without a disaster. We had the best time together, as usual! I miss him so much when we're apart. I had another guest appearance on his radio show, which was a blast and a half. Talk about Star Wars? Don't mind if I do! AND I got to meet his family! We spent an evening with his dad and aunt and uncle. Then an afternoon with his grandmother and evening with his mother, stepdad, and sister. Such fun! They were all so sweet to me! Lovely people. I enjoyed them thoroughly. The only weird thing is that his mother is actually a year and a few months younger than me.... She knows this and has said it's okay with her, as long as her boy is happy. And he is! There's a sizable age difference between her and BB's dad, so they can't really argue the point, but there you have it. It feels a little hinky when we hang out with her. Perhaps that will get better?
His sister was full of all kinds of questions about the USA. She's a teenager and brimming with curiosity. By the end of the evening, they all wanted to come visit me here, so that's a good sign! We're all friends on Facebook now.
I have to admit, we were all scared of Christmas this year. How would it be without Dad? And without Daughter? So, we decided to go spend it with my sister's family in Virginia. We were there about 10 days, enjoying each other's company and all the sights of the area. So much history! I spent a lot of time at the Smithsonian, and I'd happily spend more! I love history and culture. That area has all of that by the bucket loads. I couldn't get enough.
It was good to have us all together, to be a family. We talked about Dad, but kept the sadness at bay by rejoicing in our common memories. Now, I know, I'm not particularly close to my sister, but I see where she wants that to change and get better. I'm wary by nature, but perhaps we can get there a bit at a time.
Son was delightful while we were there. He was happy and laughing and enjoying everyone and all the things to do.
So, we talked about it when we got home. Should the family be together, all the time? Mom is selling her house anyhow. Should we make a move?
Of course, all of that depends on me having a job. As I said, I don't let the eyes slow me down. I have continued to work very successfully, even being (as the English called it) "partially sighted." No one guesses the struggles I'm having, unless they happen to spot the quiet accommodations I make for my sight.
Is this something we could really do? Totally leave the West behind for far away lands? Leave the familiar and start over now?
Stay tuned, dear Diary. For now, this entry has gotten long enough. I will go find food and be back to discuss the possibilities soon!
I've been silent a long time. Many things have happened, good and bad. Change is on the wind today. Time for an update, from this very bad blogger.
Daughter is enjoying her mission. I spoke with her by FaceTime on Christmas Day, and that was glorious. I hear from her in email each Monday, and those are glorious emails! She is so happy! I miss her terribly, but what a wondrous adventure she is having!
Son is still adrift. My dad's death has knocked him for a loop. I'm hoping change is on the horizon for him, too, and in a positive way. He needs to find what makes his heart go pitter-patter and makes his blood warm. I wish that so much for him.
For my part of things, my eyes are still a challenge. I've had three surgeries since we last spoke, dear Diary. That's five in all. My left eye is currently filled with silicone oil, which is holding my retina in place. It doesn't look good, dear Diary, as far as the prognosis goes. The right eye is improving, but needs injections every four weeks to keep the swelling and damage at bay.
I really try hard to not let this slow me down, as much as possible. My boss says I'm her hero, for all my perseverance. I don't know about that, but I just can't let this bring me to a standstill. I just cannot! Maybe I'm just stubborn. I've gotten to know accessibility features and other help resources very well so that I can keep on keepin' on! Traveling internationally was interesting, but American Airlines did a brilliant job of helping me get where I needed to go. And the assistance folks at the airport in Manchester are unparalleled. I love them!
So, I did go back to England in November. It was cloudy and chilly and rainy - and beautiful to me! Each town has a Christmas Market that pops up in the town square, with food and booths with all kinds of wares for perfect gift-giving. I spent time in Bradford, Leeds, Nottingham, and Manchester. Of course, the Robin Hood lore was irresistible in Nottingham, and I fell in love with Nottingham lace. And a lovely little cafe for rescue kitties who are up for adoption. Coffee and kitties. A fantastic concept!
BB took good care of getting me from place to place without a disaster. We had the best time together, as usual! I miss him so much when we're apart. I had another guest appearance on his radio show, which was a blast and a half. Talk about Star Wars? Don't mind if I do! AND I got to meet his family! We spent an evening with his dad and aunt and uncle. Then an afternoon with his grandmother and evening with his mother, stepdad, and sister. Such fun! They were all so sweet to me! Lovely people. I enjoyed them thoroughly. The only weird thing is that his mother is actually a year and a few months younger than me.... She knows this and has said it's okay with her, as long as her boy is happy. And he is! There's a sizable age difference between her and BB's dad, so they can't really argue the point, but there you have it. It feels a little hinky when we hang out with her. Perhaps that will get better?
His sister was full of all kinds of questions about the USA. She's a teenager and brimming with curiosity. By the end of the evening, they all wanted to come visit me here, so that's a good sign! We're all friends on Facebook now.
I have to admit, we were all scared of Christmas this year. How would it be without Dad? And without Daughter? So, we decided to go spend it with my sister's family in Virginia. We were there about 10 days, enjoying each other's company and all the sights of the area. So much history! I spent a lot of time at the Smithsonian, and I'd happily spend more! I love history and culture. That area has all of that by the bucket loads. I couldn't get enough.
It was good to have us all together, to be a family. We talked about Dad, but kept the sadness at bay by rejoicing in our common memories. Now, I know, I'm not particularly close to my sister, but I see where she wants that to change and get better. I'm wary by nature, but perhaps we can get there a bit at a time.
Son was delightful while we were there. He was happy and laughing and enjoying everyone and all the things to do.
So, we talked about it when we got home. Should the family be together, all the time? Mom is selling her house anyhow. Should we make a move?
Of course, all of that depends on me having a job. As I said, I don't let the eyes slow me down. I have continued to work very successfully, even being (as the English called it) "partially sighted." No one guesses the struggles I'm having, unless they happen to spot the quiet accommodations I make for my sight.
Is this something we could really do? Totally leave the West behind for far away lands? Leave the familiar and start over now?
Stay tuned, dear Diary. For now, this entry has gotten long enough. I will go find food and be back to discuss the possibilities soon!
Thursday, September 10, 2015
The eyes have it
Okay, bad pun! Amid everything else that's happening, the saga of my eyes keeps trucking right along. So, here's the latest news.
To recap, I've had surgery on both of my eyes this year. Due to diabetes, my eyes have hemorrhages that formed scar tissue and caused the retinas to detach. They went in, cleaned out the blood and scar tissue, used lasers to reattach the retinas, and inserted a temporary gas bubble to hold it all in place. For each one I had to lay on my side for two weeks after to keep it all together.
The right eye is doing okay, It still has some swelling, for which I have to get regular injections. In the eye. Not a great deal of fun, but you learn to tolerate it. I wear an eye patch after those and my sweet BB calls me Director Fury on those days. I'll take that :-) Anyhow, my glasses prescription will have changed when this is all said and done, so I don't see entirely clearly on that side, but it could be worse.
It could be a problem child like the left eye.
My left eye has regrown the scar tissue and detached the retina again. From that eye, I've lost some peripheral vision and the world looks like a Salvador Dali painting. Everything is distorted and fuzzy. I will have to have surgery on that eye again, in December. No gas bubble this time. Because that failed, now I'll have an oil bubble. Still have to lay on the side, which completely sucks.
Why December, though? I'm glad you asked, dear Diary! One side effect of this surgery is that the eye forms cataracts. Which they have done. Both. So, I need to have cataract surgery before the "big" surgery. Now, that's supposedly not a big deal, and I'll be back blowing and going the next day. We can do this.
I also have to work around two bits of travel. I'm due in Charleston to lead a conference in October. And I've decided to return to England in November. Time to be disconnected from devices again and run around that lovely Yorkshire countryside with my dear BB.
One of the results of the eye wonkiness is messed up depth perception. I'm rather entertaining to my companions, usually. I reach for things and miss. I clip door frames. I take steps up or down when no step exists. Fortunately, I haven't tripped on anything yet, so I'm careful with that. BB will have to be my seeing eye BB, so I don't have a disaster in the UK.
December will a year since I first saw the blood dripping in my eye. What a year it's been. I'm more than ready to have this over and done. I hope it will be over and done, so I can see what my normal vision is going to be from now on. I just really need to see.
Don't take that for granted, folks. Vision is golden.
To recap, I've had surgery on both of my eyes this year. Due to diabetes, my eyes have hemorrhages that formed scar tissue and caused the retinas to detach. They went in, cleaned out the blood and scar tissue, used lasers to reattach the retinas, and inserted a temporary gas bubble to hold it all in place. For each one I had to lay on my side for two weeks after to keep it all together.
The right eye is doing okay, It still has some swelling, for which I have to get regular injections. In the eye. Not a great deal of fun, but you learn to tolerate it. I wear an eye patch after those and my sweet BB calls me Director Fury on those days. I'll take that :-) Anyhow, my glasses prescription will have changed when this is all said and done, so I don't see entirely clearly on that side, but it could be worse.
It could be a problem child like the left eye.
My left eye has regrown the scar tissue and detached the retina again. From that eye, I've lost some peripheral vision and the world looks like a Salvador Dali painting. Everything is distorted and fuzzy. I will have to have surgery on that eye again, in December. No gas bubble this time. Because that failed, now I'll have an oil bubble. Still have to lay on the side, which completely sucks.
Why December, though? I'm glad you asked, dear Diary! One side effect of this surgery is that the eye forms cataracts. Which they have done. Both. So, I need to have cataract surgery before the "big" surgery. Now, that's supposedly not a big deal, and I'll be back blowing and going the next day. We can do this.
I also have to work around two bits of travel. I'm due in Charleston to lead a conference in October. And I've decided to return to England in November. Time to be disconnected from devices again and run around that lovely Yorkshire countryside with my dear BB.
One of the results of the eye wonkiness is messed up depth perception. I'm rather entertaining to my companions, usually. I reach for things and miss. I clip door frames. I take steps up or down when no step exists. Fortunately, I haven't tripped on anything yet, so I'm careful with that. BB will have to be my seeing eye BB, so I don't have a disaster in the UK.
December will a year since I first saw the blood dripping in my eye. What a year it's been. I'm more than ready to have this over and done. I hope it will be over and done, so I can see what my normal vision is going to be from now on. I just really need to see.
Don't take that for granted, folks. Vision is golden.
Wednesday, September 09, 2015
The New Normal
It's been nearly three weeks since my dad passed. It still feels wholly impossible. Among all the messages of condolence what we've received, one common thread emerged: "He was a good man."
People remember his presence s being kind and strong. I remember that, too, and miss him desperately. The family visitors have all gone home now, leaving my mom, Son, and me, to find our new normal.
My dad's death has hit Son very hard, so he hit something else very hard. A tree. With his fist. And broke his hand in four places. It seems to have settled him down a little, though. He invited my mom to play video games with him. He plays new music for her. He's considerate about letting her know when he'll be home and when he won't. My fingers are crossed that it holds.
The day after Dad's funeral, I had to hit the road with a friend (I can't drive) and Daughter, to take my little girl to Salt Lake City and her new adventure. She reported for duty as a missionary the next day. Eighteen months without seeing her and rarely talking to her. Of course, she's excited to be devoting this time to a life of service, and I try not to be selfish in my attitude, but that's a lot of loss and change in my life at once.
I'm spending more time with Mom, helping her to adjust to being alone and handling life on her own two feet. It's a huge adjustment. They were together 52 years, since the age of 15. She's never been without him. I'm so sad for her. She's strong, but you can sustain that for only so long, then the cracks appear and the tears come. Our hearts are so broken.
My sister hasn't made it easier. She makes shit up. When Dad was on his deathbed and past the point of forming more than a few words to say, she claimed to have had an elaborate conversation with him, while no one else was around. After he was gone, she claimed to have been visited by him during the night, while staying with my mom in their room.
Thi is all salt in the wounds for my mother. It leaves her asking, "Why not me?" when to me it seems obvious my sister is concocting the whole thing. You know my beliefs, dear Diary, and I don't doubt such things DO happen, but these are obvious fabrications. It's not nice.
My oldest nephew has been an ass. He told his mother (my sister) that grandpa died because we didn't have enough faith that he'd be healed. He was cold and cruel to his mother. Then, his fiance comes to the funeral dressed in a strapless romper. Really? Where is the respect?
Most people have been kind to Mom about this devastating loss. Some people just don't know what not to say, though. Like, "I never would have done chemo..." or "I know just how you feel, when my husband was deployed...." No, not the thing to say.
One bit of weirdness happened to me. A card arrived at my home, addressed to me by the name I use with my family only, from someone I don't know. She said she was sorry to read about my loss and had enclosed something she thought would help. I could call her if I wanted. What was enclosed? Jehovah's Witness pamphlets.
It's in very poor taste to use my dad's death as a foot in the door, but how did she know the name that only my family uses? There are no Jehovah's Witnesses in my family. And how did she get my home address? I felt very invaded. I'm not sure what I'll do about it. It creeps me out, though, and I don't want to hear from them again.
The grief is still quite raw. I cry often, when I'm alone. The quiet in my house is large. I"m wondering when the new normal comes. I don't know what it will be yet.
People remember his presence s being kind and strong. I remember that, too, and miss him desperately. The family visitors have all gone home now, leaving my mom, Son, and me, to find our new normal.
My dad's death has hit Son very hard, so he hit something else very hard. A tree. With his fist. And broke his hand in four places. It seems to have settled him down a little, though. He invited my mom to play video games with him. He plays new music for her. He's considerate about letting her know when he'll be home and when he won't. My fingers are crossed that it holds.
The day after Dad's funeral, I had to hit the road with a friend (I can't drive) and Daughter, to take my little girl to Salt Lake City and her new adventure. She reported for duty as a missionary the next day. Eighteen months without seeing her and rarely talking to her. Of course, she's excited to be devoting this time to a life of service, and I try not to be selfish in my attitude, but that's a lot of loss and change in my life at once.
I'm spending more time with Mom, helping her to adjust to being alone and handling life on her own two feet. It's a huge adjustment. They were together 52 years, since the age of 15. She's never been without him. I'm so sad for her. She's strong, but you can sustain that for only so long, then the cracks appear and the tears come. Our hearts are so broken.
My sister hasn't made it easier. She makes shit up. When Dad was on his deathbed and past the point of forming more than a few words to say, she claimed to have had an elaborate conversation with him, while no one else was around. After he was gone, she claimed to have been visited by him during the night, while staying with my mom in their room.
Thi is all salt in the wounds for my mother. It leaves her asking, "Why not me?" when to me it seems obvious my sister is concocting the whole thing. You know my beliefs, dear Diary, and I don't doubt such things DO happen, but these are obvious fabrications. It's not nice.
My oldest nephew has been an ass. He told his mother (my sister) that grandpa died because we didn't have enough faith that he'd be healed. He was cold and cruel to his mother. Then, his fiance comes to the funeral dressed in a strapless romper. Really? Where is the respect?
Most people have been kind to Mom about this devastating loss. Some people just don't know what not to say, though. Like, "I never would have done chemo..." or "I know just how you feel, when my husband was deployed...." No, not the thing to say.
One bit of weirdness happened to me. A card arrived at my home, addressed to me by the name I use with my family only, from someone I don't know. She said she was sorry to read about my loss and had enclosed something she thought would help. I could call her if I wanted. What was enclosed? Jehovah's Witness pamphlets.
It's in very poor taste to use my dad's death as a foot in the door, but how did she know the name that only my family uses? There are no Jehovah's Witnesses in my family. And how did she get my home address? I felt very invaded. I'm not sure what I'll do about it. It creeps me out, though, and I don't want to hear from them again.
The grief is still quite raw. I cry often, when I'm alone. The quiet in my house is large. I"m wondering when the new normal comes. I don't know what it will be yet.
Friday, August 21, 2015
Thursday, August 13, 2015
A Bittersweet Trip
In preparation for her mission, Daughter needed to attend the temple before her report date. I cannot attend with her, as I'm not a member in good standing anymore. That left my mother to go with her.
My dad had wanted to go, too, but he's no longer strong enough to do so. He actually can hardly make it from one room to another now. So, it was decided that Mom would to Salt Lake City with us for one night.
She was nervous about being away from him. We went through all kinds of scenarios of people who could help him while she was gone. Finally, Son asked, "Why can't I do it?"
We were a little stunned. We didn't know he was so inclined. I mean, this isn't easy stuff, to care for someone in such a state of decline. But Son really wanted to do it, to be helpful to the man who has been his father figure for most of his life.
So, to Salt Lake we went.
While Daughter and Mom went to the temple, I wandered Temple Square and admired the buildings and gardens in the bright Utah sun. See?
Temple Square has a very strong spiritual feeling for me. My ancestors helped build that temple. When I'm there, I'm walking in their footsteps.
But my relationship with God is challenged lately. I have many questions for him about why he does the things he does to me, and why he's doing what he's doing to my dad. My dad has always been the most faithful man. My mother wonders and questions, but he never does. He is steadfast and strong. The power of the Spirit just emanates from him.
To see him suffering like this, slowly being robbed of bits of himself....that's hard to take.
When Mom and Daughter were finished, we had lunch and then went to the LDS bookstore nearby. They also sell temple clothing there, which is all white and meets a certain dress code.
Mom bought Dad's burial clothes. That was hard to take, too.
She returned home, to find that Son had done an excellent job of caring for his grandpa. I'm proud of him for that. I know it's not easy, to do or to deal with mentally. The decline is really drastic.
Daughter and I remained in Salt Lake for a couple of days longer, spending time with one another and visiting our favorite sites. We spent quite a lot of time at the Visitor Centers at Temple Square. She particularly wanted to see this:
This statue is simply breathtaking. It's a spiritual place, I tell ya. And for my spiritual daughter, it's a magical place, as well. We sat quietly in the presence of this statue and let the moment soak in.
I'm sure her thoughts differed from mine. She feels the love and comfort of her Heavenly Father and her "big brother," Jesus Christ. I turn to them with my questions....
"Why do you forsake me?"
"Why do you want me to be so alone?"
"Why do you take and take and take from me?"
"Why do you not love me?"
"Why do you hurt the people I love?"
"Why can't I catch a break from all the crap?"
I want so much to believe that I have the love of my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, but I'm not feeling it. I feel abandoned. I feel battered. I ache so deeply. My heart is so broken.
I keep it to myself, though. My family certainly doesn't want to hear ir, and I'm so proud of the path my daughter walks. I wouldn't want to undermine that for her. Her faith sees her through so much. I would never say or do anything that might take that from her.
The next time I'm in Salt Lake, I'll be delivering her to report for her mission. She's so excited about it, and I smile and hug and love and support her. But I don't know how I'll make it thorough the next year and a half.
My dad had wanted to go, too, but he's no longer strong enough to do so. He actually can hardly make it from one room to another now. So, it was decided that Mom would to Salt Lake City with us for one night.
She was nervous about being away from him. We went through all kinds of scenarios of people who could help him while she was gone. Finally, Son asked, "Why can't I do it?"
We were a little stunned. We didn't know he was so inclined. I mean, this isn't easy stuff, to care for someone in such a state of decline. But Son really wanted to do it, to be helpful to the man who has been his father figure for most of his life.
So, to Salt Lake we went.
While Daughter and Mom went to the temple, I wandered Temple Square and admired the buildings and gardens in the bright Utah sun. See?
 |
| Assembly Hall |
 |
| Assembly Hall grounds |
 |
| Flower Bed in Temple Square |
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| Salt Lake City Temple |
 |
| SLC Temple up close |
 |
| Lion House with gardens |
But my relationship with God is challenged lately. I have many questions for him about why he does the things he does to me, and why he's doing what he's doing to my dad. My dad has always been the most faithful man. My mother wonders and questions, but he never does. He is steadfast and strong. The power of the Spirit just emanates from him.
To see him suffering like this, slowly being robbed of bits of himself....that's hard to take.
When Mom and Daughter were finished, we had lunch and then went to the LDS bookstore nearby. They also sell temple clothing there, which is all white and meets a certain dress code.
Mom bought Dad's burial clothes. That was hard to take, too.
She returned home, to find that Son had done an excellent job of caring for his grandpa. I'm proud of him for that. I know it's not easy, to do or to deal with mentally. The decline is really drastic.
Daughter and I remained in Salt Lake for a couple of days longer, spending time with one another and visiting our favorite sites. We spent quite a lot of time at the Visitor Centers at Temple Square. She particularly wanted to see this:
 |
| The Christus |
I'm sure her thoughts differed from mine. She feels the love and comfort of her Heavenly Father and her "big brother," Jesus Christ. I turn to them with my questions....
"Why do you forsake me?"
"Why do you want me to be so alone?"
"Why do you take and take and take from me?"
"Why do you not love me?"
"Why do you hurt the people I love?"
"Why can't I catch a break from all the crap?"
I want so much to believe that I have the love of my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, but I'm not feeling it. I feel abandoned. I feel battered. I ache so deeply. My heart is so broken.
I keep it to myself, though. My family certainly doesn't want to hear ir, and I'm so proud of the path my daughter walks. I wouldn't want to undermine that for her. Her faith sees her through so much. I would never say or do anything that might take that from her.
The next time I'm in Salt Lake, I'll be delivering her to report for her mission. She's so excited about it, and I smile and hug and love and support her. But I don't know how I'll make it thorough the next year and a half.
Tuesday, August 04, 2015
Update on "Six Months"
My dad saw his local oncologist yesterday. He has deteriorated rapidly and is now so weak that he can barely get around. The doctor said he thinks the six months estimate is wrong. He thinks Dad has three to four weeks.
They did get their hands on an experimental drug, and it's the last chance to shrink the tumor. This isn't cure, but might buy him a little time and relieve some pain. That starts this week, so we'll see how it goes.
At this point, after being through so many disappointments, it's hard to be hopeful.
He is a shadow of the man he used to be, of the man who raised me. He was always a large presence, an imposing figure. Now, he is thin, frail, worn out. A couple of weeks ago, he was able to do a few things in the yard, putter around the house. Now, he can barely walk.
It's all happening so fast. He's being taken a piece at a time, and it's so hard to watch. He deserved better than this.
They did get their hands on an experimental drug, and it's the last chance to shrink the tumor. This isn't cure, but might buy him a little time and relieve some pain. That starts this week, so we'll see how it goes.
At this point, after being through so many disappointments, it's hard to be hopeful.
He is a shadow of the man he used to be, of the man who raised me. He was always a large presence, an imposing figure. Now, he is thin, frail, worn out. A couple of weeks ago, he was able to do a few things in the yard, putter around the house. Now, he can barely walk.
It's all happening so fast. He's being taken a piece at a time, and it's so hard to watch. He deserved better than this.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Six Months
That's what they said. Six months.
My dad has six months left on this earth. With us.
I'm still shocked. I know they've done all they can. The experimental drugs won't help him. Surgery is not possible. Chemo didn't work. Radiation will keep things at bay for a little while.
But the tumor is large and getting larger. It's so aggressive and so rare, they just have no weapons in the arsenal.
He's in so much pain. They can't control that, either, without it messing with him, mentally. For a moment yesterday, he didn't know who my mom was.
He's lost an entire human being's worth of wright, and we're right at a year since his diagnosis.
I ache so much. I have pain in places I didn't know my heart had.
That's all I can manage for now.
My dad has six months left on this earth. With us.
I'm still shocked. I know they've done all they can. The experimental drugs won't help him. Surgery is not possible. Chemo didn't work. Radiation will keep things at bay for a little while.
But the tumor is large and getting larger. It's so aggressive and so rare, they just have no weapons in the arsenal.
He's in so much pain. They can't control that, either, without it messing with him, mentally. For a moment yesterday, he didn't know who my mom was.
He's lost an entire human being's worth of wright, and we're right at a year since his diagnosis.
I ache so much. I have pain in places I didn't know my heart had.
That's all I can manage for now.
Monday, July 20, 2015
Where is the accountability?
It's quickly becoming a pet peeve: people who blame others for their own mistakes or wrongdoing.
I've mentioned that about Jacob before, how he seems to think his betrayal of me is somehow my fault. Something similar brought this tendency back to my attention at work recently.
During the summer, my boss gives us a "work at home" day each week. I can work in my pajamas once a week. My coworker (the one my friend called The Oxygen Thief, or TOT) opted instead to alter her daily work schedule. She asked to work 7:30am to 3:30 pm.
That's fine. That adds up to 40 hours a week, which is what we are paid to work.
Unless you take a full lunch on top of that schedule. Then it's 35 hours a week.
Which is what she did.
Now, this is not complicated math. I figured it out in a matter of seconds, when she started taking a (generous) lunch each day AND leaving at 3:30. She didn't even keep it to one hour, most days. But policing my coworkers is not part of my job. I don't know what arrangements she made with our boss to do that schedule. Not my business.
Fast forward a few weeks. TOT and the boss get into a big argument about vacation time. Boss informs her that this altered schedule is not working for her because TOT is only working 35 hours a week.
TOT informs the boss that the discrepancy is her fault because she (the boss) didn't explicitly tell her that lunch was not included.
WTF?
Taking it a step further, TOT complains about this to me. I said, "But that's a 35 hour work week, and we're paid for 40 hours."
TOT: "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU THINK THAT, TOO!" And informs me that it's now also my fault because I didn't tell her that she could work just 35 hours a week.
"Do the math," I said. "We're paid for 40 hours. You can't just decide to work 35 hours instead. It's not my job to police you. You can do the math yourself."
As though I'd said nothing, she repeated that I should have told her.
How is this my fault? Or the boss's? TOT is (chronologically) an adult. Be responsible. Be accountable for your own damn self.
Honestly, I have to ask where the work ethic has gone, too. When the boss isn't here, TOT comes in late, leaves early, and spends the time in between doing personal searches and full-color printouts of pictures she likes. We have new person starting next week, and she's new to an office environment. I don't want her to think that's normal work behavior.
But I suppose the lack of work ethic is my fault. Because, you know, I didn't tell her specifically that we do actual work here.
I've mentioned that about Jacob before, how he seems to think his betrayal of me is somehow my fault. Something similar brought this tendency back to my attention at work recently.
During the summer, my boss gives us a "work at home" day each week. I can work in my pajamas once a week. My coworker (the one my friend called The Oxygen Thief, or TOT) opted instead to alter her daily work schedule. She asked to work 7:30am to 3:30 pm.
That's fine. That adds up to 40 hours a week, which is what we are paid to work.
Unless you take a full lunch on top of that schedule. Then it's 35 hours a week.
Which is what she did.
Now, this is not complicated math. I figured it out in a matter of seconds, when she started taking a (generous) lunch each day AND leaving at 3:30. She didn't even keep it to one hour, most days. But policing my coworkers is not part of my job. I don't know what arrangements she made with our boss to do that schedule. Not my business.
Fast forward a few weeks. TOT and the boss get into a big argument about vacation time. Boss informs her that this altered schedule is not working for her because TOT is only working 35 hours a week.
TOT informs the boss that the discrepancy is her fault because she (the boss) didn't explicitly tell her that lunch was not included.
WTF?
Taking it a step further, TOT complains about this to me. I said, "But that's a 35 hour work week, and we're paid for 40 hours."
TOT: "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU THINK THAT, TOO!" And informs me that it's now also my fault because I didn't tell her that she could work just 35 hours a week.
"Do the math," I said. "We're paid for 40 hours. You can't just decide to work 35 hours instead. It's not my job to police you. You can do the math yourself."
As though I'd said nothing, she repeated that I should have told her.
How is this my fault? Or the boss's? TOT is (chronologically) an adult. Be responsible. Be accountable for your own damn self.
Honestly, I have to ask where the work ethic has gone, too. When the boss isn't here, TOT comes in late, leaves early, and spends the time in between doing personal searches and full-color printouts of pictures she likes. We have new person starting next week, and she's new to an office environment. I don't want her to think that's normal work behavior.
But I suppose the lack of work ethic is my fault. Because, you know, I didn't tell her specifically that we do actual work here.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
The Waiting...
...does anyone out there remember that song? "The Waiting is the hardest part..." Tom Petty. It keeps repeating in my head.
I'm waiting on that company to get back to me. I didn't hear from them for many days, and I recently found out why. The HR person I was talking to actually managed to screw it up for me. She told them I wasn't interested in a position until later in the fall. Nope! Not what I said! She seems to have forgotten everything she said to me. So, now she says her managers are reviewing her notes to see what to do next. That doesn't sound at all hopeful.
My parents have traveled again, to see doctors and specialists. We thought he'd start radiation this week, but instead there's more waiting. More lost time. More time for the tumor to grow.
They are waiting for news on another clinical trial. So, other treatments are on hold until they know if that came through. It would mean more travel and expense, just to see if it will work at all. The doctors decided that surgery is not possible. It's too dangerous to do. So, he has to rely on something else giving him some relief.
Today is a bad day, Mom said earlier. His pain is bad, so they changed his pain management routine. He's acting disoriented and drugged today.
They were driving, and he asked, "Where are the girls?"
He also asked when Son would be seeing the temple president. If you're a Mormon, that will make sense. What doesn't make sense is that Son hasn't been an active Mormon for a few years.
Dad has lost touch with time and place and people now.
It makes me sad to my core. The lump in my throat is almost painful now, all the time. I'm helpless. We're losing him, in the most painful, gut-wrenching way to see happen to a man of his stature and intellect.
I have so many questions for God, should he ever want to see me. I don't know if he will because I don't seem to be one of his favorite creations.
I'm waiting on that company to get back to me. I didn't hear from them for many days, and I recently found out why. The HR person I was talking to actually managed to screw it up for me. She told them I wasn't interested in a position until later in the fall. Nope! Not what I said! She seems to have forgotten everything she said to me. So, now she says her managers are reviewing her notes to see what to do next. That doesn't sound at all hopeful.
My parents have traveled again, to see doctors and specialists. We thought he'd start radiation this week, but instead there's more waiting. More lost time. More time for the tumor to grow.
They are waiting for news on another clinical trial. So, other treatments are on hold until they know if that came through. It would mean more travel and expense, just to see if it will work at all. The doctors decided that surgery is not possible. It's too dangerous to do. So, he has to rely on something else giving him some relief.
Today is a bad day, Mom said earlier. His pain is bad, so they changed his pain management routine. He's acting disoriented and drugged today.
They were driving, and he asked, "Where are the girls?"
He also asked when Son would be seeing the temple president. If you're a Mormon, that will make sense. What doesn't make sense is that Son hasn't been an active Mormon for a few years.
Dad has lost touch with time and place and people now.
It makes me sad to my core. The lump in my throat is almost painful now, all the time. I'm helpless. We're losing him, in the most painful, gut-wrenching way to see happen to a man of his stature and intellect.
I have so many questions for God, should he ever want to see me. I don't know if he will because I don't seem to be one of his favorite creations.
Saturday, July 11, 2015
No more teenagers!
This picture is my lovely daughter, in a flower crown. She decided her 20th birthday was the perfect occasion to wear a flower crown. How can you argue with that?
My sister was in town with her kids, to visit with my parents. Particularly my dad. On Daughter's birthday, they all wanted to go to a nearby mountain town for the day, as a group. Daughter decided to level with my mother and said she just wanted to spend the day with her mom.
I could about cry with how sweet that is! This is the last birthday we'll celebrate together until 2017, since she is leaving on her mission soon. She'll be gone a year and a half, with email as our only contact (except a phone call on Mother's Day and Christmas). That she wanted to spend that day with just me means so much! She's very special to me, and our bond is something I cherish.
So, we spent the day getting some mission supplies for her (such as good shoes and makeup that will be appropriate), having lunch out, and going to the movies. It was a glorious day of grownup mommy-daughter time. I am soaking up all the memories I possibly can. I'm going to miss her so intensely!
We spent the evening with the entire family. My dad is struggling lately. The pain is hard to control, and he's lost a lot of time while the experts decide what treatments he can have and which way to go. The tumor is aggressive and is growing significantly while this time just passes. I am always so scared for him. Always.
Daughter's birthday gave us a chance to have a celebration, have cake, open presents. And remember. Even Son got into it, shopping for her while they were away during the day trip.
It was the end of the day, when I was turning out the light, when it occurred to me that my years with teens were over. My kids are taking flight on their own, for better or worse. They pursuing their wants and dreams. I just have to hope that I've given them what they need to find their own success and happiness.
And she still wears a flower crown. You just have to love that!
Tuesday, June 30, 2015
Signs?
Amid my decision-making and debating, things keep happening that seem to push me in different directions.
My boss sent us an email that she would be taking off half of yesterday, all of today, and Monday, to celebrate her daughter's 25th birthday. Oh yay, I thought. That means I can take my daughter's 20th birthday off next week! So, I submitted the leave request for that day. One day. ONE.
The request was approved, but hot on its heels was an email to us from my boss. She informed us that outside of the time off we already have approved, we are not allowed to request any more leave days for the duration of the summer.
It's not even July 1st.
She said that we are just too busy to be allowed time off. I'm sorry, but can't we decide that for ourselves? Are we not responsible for our own workload, like real adults?
My coworker has younger kids who are out of school for the summer. This means she can't spend any time with them on a normal summer vacation.
It just seems hardly fair, right?
I work hard. I meet my deadlines. I do high quality work. But I can't have ANY time off until after August 24th.
She had previously said no extended time off until after November 13th. That's why I'm leaving for England on November 14th.
This means that if I have to go to interview in Utah, I'll have to lie. I'll have to be "sick" or "need" another injection in my eye (which is happening every few weeks, anyhow). I hate having to do that, but I'm not sure what choice I have.
Of course, there's the ongoing question of my future here. I have the same title as the new people, with nothing to distinguish that I've been here for nearly a decade. The only advancement for me would be to have my boss's job, which I don't really want. It's way too political for me, and it would remove me from what I like doing. In short, I would not be happy.
So, I move on to the next step in the interview process with all of this in mind, and the sting of having my vacation time squelched.
It's time I earned, but am not allowed to use. Again, seems hardly fair. I work hard and am proud of what I accomplish. I don't need to be babysat and told when I can and cannot take time off, when I've earned it.
Would it be better in the corporate world? It's hard to say. I'm accustomed to academia, for better or worse. What would the private sector be like?
Do I take these things as a sign, pushing me in another direction? Or do I grin and bear it?
My boss sent us an email that she would be taking off half of yesterday, all of today, and Monday, to celebrate her daughter's 25th birthday. Oh yay, I thought. That means I can take my daughter's 20th birthday off next week! So, I submitted the leave request for that day. One day. ONE.
The request was approved, but hot on its heels was an email to us from my boss. She informed us that outside of the time off we already have approved, we are not allowed to request any more leave days for the duration of the summer.
It's not even July 1st.
She said that we are just too busy to be allowed time off. I'm sorry, but can't we decide that for ourselves? Are we not responsible for our own workload, like real adults?
My coworker has younger kids who are out of school for the summer. This means she can't spend any time with them on a normal summer vacation.
It just seems hardly fair, right?
I work hard. I meet my deadlines. I do high quality work. But I can't have ANY time off until after August 24th.
She had previously said no extended time off until after November 13th. That's why I'm leaving for England on November 14th.
This means that if I have to go to interview in Utah, I'll have to lie. I'll have to be "sick" or "need" another injection in my eye (which is happening every few weeks, anyhow). I hate having to do that, but I'm not sure what choice I have.
Of course, there's the ongoing question of my future here. I have the same title as the new people, with nothing to distinguish that I've been here for nearly a decade. The only advancement for me would be to have my boss's job, which I don't really want. It's way too political for me, and it would remove me from what I like doing. In short, I would not be happy.
So, I move on to the next step in the interview process with all of this in mind, and the sting of having my vacation time squelched.
It's time I earned, but am not allowed to use. Again, seems hardly fair. I work hard and am proud of what I accomplish. I don't need to be babysat and told when I can and cannot take time off, when I've earned it.
Would it be better in the corporate world? It's hard to say. I'm accustomed to academia, for better or worse. What would the private sector be like?
Do I take these things as a sign, pushing me in another direction? Or do I grin and bear it?
Thursday, June 25, 2015
The First Hurdle
The first of many, I suspect, related to that opportunity in Utah. I had a phone interview with one of their HR reps yesterday. It was a good conversation, with a lot of good information.
Many of the questions were standard preliminary interview questions, such as "Why do you think your skills and background fit this position?" I learned that the time frame for starting there would be somewhat flexible. We could be looking at weeks or months, but before the end of the year.
It figures that I've already booked my flights to England for November!
The woman had a point that moving in the winter kinda sucks, especially when you're dealing with mountains. But let the chips fall where they may. If that's what happens, I'll cope with it.
She also said that their higher education division is "very interested" in my background. You have to like that! The company offers free health and dental insurance, 401(k), stock options, free gym membership...so, lots of perks. There was just one sticking point.
The salary. It's exactly what I'm making now. When you make a move, you like it to be at an increase. Sure, not paying for health insurance amounts to an increase, but that's not quite the same, it it?
So, I'm debating if that's something I'm willing to negotiate on. What if I put forth another number, and they turn it down? Would I refuse the job?
It's an excellent company with an excellent work atmosphere. Very encouraging of the creative side of people. They recognize the need for fun in the workplace.
While I was talking to her, I kept hearing a "thump" sound in the background. She finally said something about it.
"I'm sorry for the noise. I'm in a room with glass walls, and those sounds are Nerf guns being shot at me."
I can do Nerf guns. <grin>
Maybe I'll check out what houses go for in Salt Lake.
Many of the questions were standard preliminary interview questions, such as "Why do you think your skills and background fit this position?" I learned that the time frame for starting there would be somewhat flexible. We could be looking at weeks or months, but before the end of the year.
It figures that I've already booked my flights to England for November!
The woman had a point that moving in the winter kinda sucks, especially when you're dealing with mountains. But let the chips fall where they may. If that's what happens, I'll cope with it.
She also said that their higher education division is "very interested" in my background. You have to like that! The company offers free health and dental insurance, 401(k), stock options, free gym membership...so, lots of perks. There was just one sticking point.
The salary. It's exactly what I'm making now. When you make a move, you like it to be at an increase. Sure, not paying for health insurance amounts to an increase, but that's not quite the same, it it?
So, I'm debating if that's something I'm willing to negotiate on. What if I put forth another number, and they turn it down? Would I refuse the job?
It's an excellent company with an excellent work atmosphere. Very encouraging of the creative side of people. They recognize the need for fun in the workplace.
While I was talking to her, I kept hearing a "thump" sound in the background. She finally said something about it.
"I'm sorry for the noise. I'm in a room with glass walls, and those sounds are Nerf guns being shot at me."
I can do Nerf guns. <grin>
Maybe I'll check out what houses go for in Salt Lake.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Is it time to go?
My previous changes in my professional life have had a common thread. When I told my then-boss that I had a new opportunity and would be leaving, each said, "But we had plans for you!"
Each one had a grand plan to which I was not privy, with a place for me in it. A chance for advancement to which I was oblivious, so I made my own path elsewhere. I don't know how those opportunities would have played out, of course, but the path I've carved out has been a steady climb upwards.
It's not been an easy path, full of unexpected turns and twists. Life is that way, though, isn't it?
Lately, I've been wondering if it's time to move on from where I am. I've been in the same position for eight years now. A little over two years ago, my employer finally got serious about my area. They got rid of the albatross who was "leading" us into oblivion and hired a really high-powered woman who has been a positive force of nature here. She's changed a lot of the culture, which ended to happen, and has more she'd like to change.
I've been her right hand the whole time. The other team members have moved and changed, but we've stayed as the core. I know she won't be here forever, but I also know that I don't want her job. It's highly political, and I don't enjoy that kind of maneuvering and game-playing. I'm no strategist, in those arenas. I would be miserable doing that.
So, I'm left to wonder, what's for me here?
I love what I do, but I don't want to stay in the same job forever. There are some things that I don't like about it, and I need some advancement. I'm ready for more responsibility. A need to be distinguished from the newbies here. We all have the same title. Nothing indicates that I've been at this since 2003. Or that I'm the leader of a national organization in my field.
I would be foolish to not consider other opportunities, right?
Because there is one.
It would be a major move for me. Literally and figuratively. I would have to move to a new and much larger city. I don't know anyone there. I'd be quite alone...but is that so different from here? I have no close friends here. I have no confidante. My support system is leaning on me lately, but that will likely change soon. My dad's treatment options now have the real possibility of requiring them to move, as well.
I would also have to leave academia, for the most part. I've not worked in the corporate world for many years. It's a whole different ballgame. Not nearly as protected, in some ways. Companies go out of business; universities do not. But it also carries more opportunity, if you're good at what you do. So far, I've been good at what I do.
This is a really scary thing for me. The idea of packing up and moving and starting over is daunting. The idea of leaving what I know and risking my future is frightening.
But the idea of moving forward and upward, that's thrilling. And it's a good company with a Google-like philosophy. One of their job descriptions talks about attending monthly scooter jousting tournaments. Not many would make mention of such a thing, much less actually have such a thing!
But good Lord, I hate moving.
What is a Blogget to do?
Each one had a grand plan to which I was not privy, with a place for me in it. A chance for advancement to which I was oblivious, so I made my own path elsewhere. I don't know how those opportunities would have played out, of course, but the path I've carved out has been a steady climb upwards.
It's not been an easy path, full of unexpected turns and twists. Life is that way, though, isn't it?
Lately, I've been wondering if it's time to move on from where I am. I've been in the same position for eight years now. A little over two years ago, my employer finally got serious about my area. They got rid of the albatross who was "leading" us into oblivion and hired a really high-powered woman who has been a positive force of nature here. She's changed a lot of the culture, which ended to happen, and has more she'd like to change.
I've been her right hand the whole time. The other team members have moved and changed, but we've stayed as the core. I know she won't be here forever, but I also know that I don't want her job. It's highly political, and I don't enjoy that kind of maneuvering and game-playing. I'm no strategist, in those arenas. I would be miserable doing that.
So, I'm left to wonder, what's for me here?
I love what I do, but I don't want to stay in the same job forever. There are some things that I don't like about it, and I need some advancement. I'm ready for more responsibility. A need to be distinguished from the newbies here. We all have the same title. Nothing indicates that I've been at this since 2003. Or that I'm the leader of a national organization in my field.
I would be foolish to not consider other opportunities, right?
Because there is one.
It would be a major move for me. Literally and figuratively. I would have to move to a new and much larger city. I don't know anyone there. I'd be quite alone...but is that so different from here? I have no close friends here. I have no confidante. My support system is leaning on me lately, but that will likely change soon. My dad's treatment options now have the real possibility of requiring them to move, as well.
I would also have to leave academia, for the most part. I've not worked in the corporate world for many years. It's a whole different ballgame. Not nearly as protected, in some ways. Companies go out of business; universities do not. But it also carries more opportunity, if you're good at what you do. So far, I've been good at what I do.
This is a really scary thing for me. The idea of packing up and moving and starting over is daunting. The idea of leaving what I know and risking my future is frightening.
But the idea of moving forward and upward, that's thrilling. And it's a good company with a Google-like philosophy. One of their job descriptions talks about attending monthly scooter jousting tournaments. Not many would make mention of such a thing, much less actually have such a thing!
But good Lord, I hate moving.
What is a Blogget to do?
Thursday, June 18, 2015
"Bloody Fucking Hell"
That's what my friend had to say about today, for me.
It started last night, actually. When something in my mouth felt weird (don't laugh!) (okay, laugh), and I discovered that part of my tooth was gone. One of the inward-facing sides is missing, exposing the inside of the tooth.
So, first call today was to the dentist.
Second call was to my mom because she would have to drive me. I can't see well enough to drive yet.
"Okay, that's good," she said. "I have have a call in to the doctor for your dad. He's really in a lot of pain."
I knew he'd been hurting a lot lately, but I didn't know they'd doubled his morphine dose yesterday. And that it wasn't helping.
Suddenly, the tooth didn't seem so important.
They've been in a holding pattern for the decision on the specialists. They went to Salt Lake and say a specialist there, a surgeon who is supposed to be very talented. He said he thought the tumor was operable, but had to pass it by their board of surgeons. So, my folks are waiting for word on that.
In the meantime, the pain intensifies.
Soon, I got a text from Mom. "They're admitting him to the hospital."
I called and changed the dentist appointment.
"I'm really scared," she said.
It's heartbreaking to see him like this, in such pain. He's a good man. A faithful man. A strong man. He's always been a presence. John Wayne-like in stature. And one of the smartest men I've ever known.
He's so much more fragile now. The medication damages his thinking, and he's not so lucid.
Yes, heartbreaking.
I don't know what the next few days will bring. But it's scaring me to the core. I shouldn't think out it too much because I can really run the "What ifs" in circles. I feel I need to be prepared, but I don't know quite what for.
I have so many things I need to deal with right now, but this trumps it all. The other stuff can go sit in a corner while I hope my dad makes it to this Father's Day.
Heart. Breaking.
It started last night, actually. When something in my mouth felt weird (don't laugh!) (okay, laugh), and I discovered that part of my tooth was gone. One of the inward-facing sides is missing, exposing the inside of the tooth.
So, first call today was to the dentist.
Second call was to my mom because she would have to drive me. I can't see well enough to drive yet.
"Okay, that's good," she said. "I have have a call in to the doctor for your dad. He's really in a lot of pain."
I knew he'd been hurting a lot lately, but I didn't know they'd doubled his morphine dose yesterday. And that it wasn't helping.
Suddenly, the tooth didn't seem so important.
They've been in a holding pattern for the decision on the specialists. They went to Salt Lake and say a specialist there, a surgeon who is supposed to be very talented. He said he thought the tumor was operable, but had to pass it by their board of surgeons. So, my folks are waiting for word on that.
In the meantime, the pain intensifies.
Soon, I got a text from Mom. "They're admitting him to the hospital."
I called and changed the dentist appointment.
"I'm really scared," she said.
It's heartbreaking to see him like this, in such pain. He's a good man. A faithful man. A strong man. He's always been a presence. John Wayne-like in stature. And one of the smartest men I've ever known.
He's so much more fragile now. The medication damages his thinking, and he's not so lucid.
Yes, heartbreaking.
I don't know what the next few days will bring. But it's scaring me to the core. I shouldn't think out it too much because I can really run the "What ifs" in circles. I feel I need to be prepared, but I don't know quite what for.
I have so many things I need to deal with right now, but this trumps it all. The other stuff can go sit in a corner while I hope my dad makes it to this Father's Day.
Heart. Breaking.
Monday, June 15, 2015
They're all around, and they know
I think the veil was especially thin over the weekend.
Saturday afternoon, I got a shaky call from my mother.
"I just saw a spirit," she said. My dad was resting in their bedroom, while she was doing dishes in the kitchen. She turned around to go check on him. That's when she saw a white figure near the little hallway to their room. It rushed around the corner, into the bedroom.
She told Dad. "Are they coming for me?" he joked.
She was still having chills when she called me. We each had the same knee-jerk impression. Could it have been his mother, hovering near her ailing child? He had a particularly rough week.
They've always had odd activity in the house, since the young man who used to live there passed away suddenly (not in the house). But this was different. This was an actual figure in broad daylight, not just sounds in the night.
The dead felt close to me yesterday, as well. Sunday marked three years since my dear friend passed from cancer. I miss him so much and still, all this time later, cannot believe he's gone.
What I wouldn't give to laugh with him again! I never got to say goodbye. I wasn't sure how, and I just expected to have more time. Then, he was gone.
His younger brother friended me on Facebook yesterday, then looked at all of the photos I have posted of him from way-back-when. he'd been with my friend when he passed. I sent messages to him and their mother, letting them know I was thinking of them.
I talk to his mother frequently and saw her and his stepfather when I was in Texas last year. Afterwards, she posted that they'd had dinner with his "best friend from high school and forever." It made me cry. I miss him so much.
Sometimes, I dream of him. We are hanging out together and having a good time again. We smile, laugh, hug, and hold hands.
I like to think we really are.
Saturday afternoon, I got a shaky call from my mother.
"I just saw a spirit," she said. My dad was resting in their bedroom, while she was doing dishes in the kitchen. She turned around to go check on him. That's when she saw a white figure near the little hallway to their room. It rushed around the corner, into the bedroom.
She told Dad. "Are they coming for me?" he joked.
She was still having chills when she called me. We each had the same knee-jerk impression. Could it have been his mother, hovering near her ailing child? He had a particularly rough week.
They've always had odd activity in the house, since the young man who used to live there passed away suddenly (not in the house). But this was different. This was an actual figure in broad daylight, not just sounds in the night.
The dead felt close to me yesterday, as well. Sunday marked three years since my dear friend passed from cancer. I miss him so much and still, all this time later, cannot believe he's gone.
What I wouldn't give to laugh with him again! I never got to say goodbye. I wasn't sure how, and I just expected to have more time. Then, he was gone.
His younger brother friended me on Facebook yesterday, then looked at all of the photos I have posted of him from way-back-when. he'd been with my friend when he passed. I sent messages to him and their mother, letting them know I was thinking of them.
I talk to his mother frequently and saw her and his stepfather when I was in Texas last year. Afterwards, she posted that they'd had dinner with his "best friend from high school and forever." It made me cry. I miss him so much.
Sometimes, I dream of him. We are hanging out together and having a good time again. We smile, laugh, hug, and hold hands.
I like to think we really are.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
The Latest Crazymaker
For the first several years that I was here, my department had a challenge being taken seriously. We seemed to have roadblocks to getting anything of substance accomplished, and I didn't understand why. My Old Boss would tell me it was because of the political climate, that our VP was against us. I didn't know better.
Then came the shake-up, which led to the hiring of my new Boss. That's when the depth of the harm he was doing was revealed, along with a few things about how he handled me. For instance, I apparently should have had a title change years ago, but he was against it.
Long story short, we've spent the last couple of years rebuilding the department's reputation. We've put forth a more professional front with our new leadership, and we've become part of the campus conversations on the quality of education. We're known for doing good and being good to work with.
But it's new and fragile and easily smudged, if we're not careful. Too many people in higher ed just want to best you and complain and argue. We battle that all the time. People try to bait us. I often go to Boss for advice on how to respond to a potentially sticky question. She's very good at maneuvering those situations.
Blogget might not be the most politically-savvy person, but I know how to be professional!
When Boss started, the staff consisted of me and one other person. We started a search for a third staffer. In the middle of that search, the other person quit. That left just me on staff. We hired two people. Finally! A full staff for what we needed! Let the work commence, we said!
Then one of those people got fired. That was a good and bad day. Bad that we were now understaffed again. Good because even with that person, we were in essence understaffed.
We have just finished a search for another new person. If she takes the job, I worry about the influence this other staffer will have on the newbie. I mean, her work is okay, but she makes noise about wishing she was part time. Essentially, she is, with the way she does her job.
I'm worried about a person like this, with a serious lack of professionalism and dreadful work ethic, and the impact she can have on this reputation we've scratched out over the last couple of years. Some examples....
She doodles in meetings, then asks questions that make it obvious she wasn't paying attention. And when I say doodles, I don't mean little inconspicuous sketching in the margins that no one will notice. I mean broad scribbling across the page, arms waving, and holding up her handiwork to survey and admire.
And doing so while sitting beside that VP previously mentioned.
Then there was Monday. I came in Monday to find that she was already in the office. Good, because Boss was out of town, and she usually takes advantage of that situation by coming in late, taking generous lunches, and leaving early. Except...
...she was filing her toenails.
...and then painting them.
...and then she announced she hadn't gotten enough sleep and went home for a nap.
...and came back later to do her nails.
Keep in mind that our offices are not isolated. We're in a building with two other departments, and our offices get lots of foot traffic past them. We are visible. And Boss had just warned us that when she'[s not here, others in the building take it upon themselves to watch us. The walls have eyes, indeed.
This coworker said to me, "Why should I care about that?"
I would have thought that answer was obvious. Not only do they report to your boss what they see, chickadee, but they formulate opinions about your professionalism based on what they see. That impacts our reputation, as a group. Which impacts our effectiveness across the campus.
Have some damn common sense, why don't you?
Besides our reputation, I just find it personally irksome that I'm busting my ass, while she goes home to take a nap. We have several projects going on and needed to report on some of them in a department meeting. I had two pages - TWO feckin' pages - of notes for one project, while she had just printed a page of a web site.
I didn't let her talk, that meeting. She opened her mouth, and my brain went "Hell no!" and launched into my notes. And my ideas. When I was done, Boss tuned to her. She said, "Blogget covered all of the ideas I had."
BOOM.
Filing her toenails. I mean, come ON!
You are not taking down me and all of our hard work because you want to give yourself a pedicure in the office. I need to have a conversation about this with Boss, but choosing the right time and tone is essential. Otherwise, I'm just running to tell Mommy, instead of pressing genuine concern for our department, work, and reputation.
I'll be a good Blogget, and I'll be careful. But it will be said.
Then came the shake-up, which led to the hiring of my new Boss. That's when the depth of the harm he was doing was revealed, along with a few things about how he handled me. For instance, I apparently should have had a title change years ago, but he was against it.
Long story short, we've spent the last couple of years rebuilding the department's reputation. We've put forth a more professional front with our new leadership, and we've become part of the campus conversations on the quality of education. We're known for doing good and being good to work with.
But it's new and fragile and easily smudged, if we're not careful. Too many people in higher ed just want to best you and complain and argue. We battle that all the time. People try to bait us. I often go to Boss for advice on how to respond to a potentially sticky question. She's very good at maneuvering those situations.
Blogget might not be the most politically-savvy person, but I know how to be professional!
When Boss started, the staff consisted of me and one other person. We started a search for a third staffer. In the middle of that search, the other person quit. That left just me on staff. We hired two people. Finally! A full staff for what we needed! Let the work commence, we said!
Then one of those people got fired. That was a good and bad day. Bad that we were now understaffed again. Good because even with that person, we were in essence understaffed.
We have just finished a search for another new person. If she takes the job, I worry about the influence this other staffer will have on the newbie. I mean, her work is okay, but she makes noise about wishing she was part time. Essentially, she is, with the way she does her job.
I'm worried about a person like this, with a serious lack of professionalism and dreadful work ethic, and the impact she can have on this reputation we've scratched out over the last couple of years. Some examples....
She doodles in meetings, then asks questions that make it obvious she wasn't paying attention. And when I say doodles, I don't mean little inconspicuous sketching in the margins that no one will notice. I mean broad scribbling across the page, arms waving, and holding up her handiwork to survey and admire.
And doing so while sitting beside that VP previously mentioned.
Then there was Monday. I came in Monday to find that she was already in the office. Good, because Boss was out of town, and she usually takes advantage of that situation by coming in late, taking generous lunches, and leaving early. Except...
...she was filing her toenails.
...and then painting them.
...and then she announced she hadn't gotten enough sleep and went home for a nap.
...and came back later to do her nails.
Keep in mind that our offices are not isolated. We're in a building with two other departments, and our offices get lots of foot traffic past them. We are visible. And Boss had just warned us that when she'[s not here, others in the building take it upon themselves to watch us. The walls have eyes, indeed.
This coworker said to me, "Why should I care about that?"
I would have thought that answer was obvious. Not only do they report to your boss what they see, chickadee, but they formulate opinions about your professionalism based on what they see. That impacts our reputation, as a group. Which impacts our effectiveness across the campus.
Have some damn common sense, why don't you?
Besides our reputation, I just find it personally irksome that I'm busting my ass, while she goes home to take a nap. We have several projects going on and needed to report on some of them in a department meeting. I had two pages - TWO feckin' pages - of notes for one project, while she had just printed a page of a web site.
I didn't let her talk, that meeting. She opened her mouth, and my brain went "Hell no!" and launched into my notes. And my ideas. When I was done, Boss tuned to her. She said, "Blogget covered all of the ideas I had."
BOOM.
Filing her toenails. I mean, come ON!
You are not taking down me and all of our hard work because you want to give yourself a pedicure in the office. I need to have a conversation about this with Boss, but choosing the right time and tone is essential. Otherwise, I'm just running to tell Mommy, instead of pressing genuine concern for our department, work, and reputation.
I'll be a good Blogget, and I'll be careful. But it will be said.
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