Update

DIL went to see plastic surgeon today. News is good. Sinus is broken, however, it should heal without surgery. Facial cavity is full of blood and swelling is profound. Biggest worry today was skin splitting due to swelling. Lots of ice therapy, anit-inflammatory, pain meds and rest are what is being prescribed for the next several days. Full recovery is expected!

This is just one of the reasons I never played sports. BALLS ARE BAD! (have fun with that one folks!)

When Anger Creeps in

Today I am angry. Mad at him...at the situation. Mad that I am here holding the bag of responsibility. Shame on me...I have been a bad girl. Just ask anybody. Broke one of those commandments I did...burning in Hell forever. No redemption for me. I deserve what I get. The pain, the agony, the hurt, the loneliness. It is my punishment. Accept it with dignity and grace for I deserve it. Right?

But what about him? What about what he did? Is there a Hell for him? Is there a Hell for someone who just sits there while he is begged for years to address the issues? Begged, pleaded with, cried and screamed at to please help change what is wrong. Begged to not sit passively by and watch us die.

No...no Hell for him. He has already suffered his Hell. Just ask anybody. His Hell was me. His hurt was enduring me and what I did. He already has his redemption. He can quit and walk away with grace and dignity. Right?

Fuck that!

It's Always Something

Decent nights rest hell! Phone rings around 11:30...it is the perfect son:

"Hello"

"You must not have gotten the picture I texted you."

"No. I have been sleeping. What is wrong."

"Wife took a softball to the face. We've been in the ER for hours."

"Oh my gosh. What is going on."

"Face is broke. Sinus on her right side fractured in several places. Will have to have reconstructive surgery after the swelling goes down."

"Holy shit."

"Yea. I have to go to work tomorrow. She may need you."

We hung up and I called his sister to fill her in. Cause right now, I am not the one to be needed. I can barely take care of myself.

Day's End

I am tired. Did some things that could be called normal today and only filled a glass with tears. Progress...not so much. Just a different day.

Made some phone calls to find a psyc who is in my network and seem to have succeeded. Who knows what he is like. But the practice comes recommended by someone who was locked up with me in the cuckoo's nest. A 'why don't you call my people' kind of thing. Thanks Joella (no that is not her real name!)

Baked some cookies. Began that process last night. Fridge is bare...but there were some eggs, butter and milk so I thought I was good to go. Mixed everything together and went to get...Oh hell no....where is the flour! So in the fridge that all went and off to bed went I. Bought flour today and finished up. Adequate at best.

Watched the little boy at his tennis lessons. Then we went to celebrate his 6th birthday. Had dinner out with his Gretchen, his mom, his momo and his mam ma (that's me). The we all went to Old Navy (with the exception of his momo) where there was this darling pink tutu hanging on the rack.

Well my sick mind (and his Gretchen was a participant too I might add) was working in such a twisted demented way walking through all of those cute little girl clothes.

"Hey B, you want one of those bouncy balls in that there machine?"

"Yes Mam ma Yes"

"Well all you have to do is put this here tutu on and do a few turns for me"

"Okay if I can have a bouncy ball"

Damn this was way too easy! Off the rack the tutu came, right up the legs over the jeans and before you knew it he was twirling like a ballerina! Of course I had my camera phone snapping away. Wish I knew how to get the picture to post here so I could show you all. His mother is already threatening me if he has any future gender identification issues. And he sure does love that twenty five cent bouncy ball!

So all in all not a bad day. Not a great day. Distractions are good. Quiet lonely house bad. Off to bed for what I hope is a decent nights rest. I wish the same for you all too.

Just Sayin'

Don't you think she should have told me on the phone she was not in my insurance network? Not that it would have mattered at that point. It was part of the criteria to get sprung from the nest...an appt. with a psychiatrist. At that point I would have done cart wheels down the hall nekked if they would have told me to...on second thought those might have been the voices in my head telling me to do the cart wheels. Anyway....

So I am $300.00 lighter, several prescriptions heavier, have a diagnoses of severe depression and I think I am more depressed. What is more severe than severe?

Is this how it is supposed to work? I think I would rather be crazy.

Homework

Therapy is seems will include homework. The first assignment was to think about a time in my life when I was happy. Well that shouldn't be too difficult now should it?

So I took pencil to paper and was frozen. When was I happy? I couldn't wrap my brain around a single long period of total happiness in my life. So this is what I ended up with:

Picking out a happy time in life - difficult at best. Times of prolonged happiness? In my childhood? I don't remember. Snippets maybe. But even that is foggy for it seems Michael over-shadowed it all.

Teens-got nothing there!

Marriage? Tumultuous beginning. Children came quickly-lots of work! Again moments of joy - snippets of happiness - nothing prolonged. The early years and the raising of kids were work. I did it all. The responsibility was overwhelming at times and I was often not kind, patient or nice to those around me. I have many regrets when it comes to raising my children...so happiness there? Not so much.

I guess there has never been prolonged happiness. When I try to think about it my mind goes to places my husband and I have been together alone and away - the beach in Traverse City, Crisp Point Lighthouse, Kayaking the Green River. Always ALONE and AWAY from here.

So this is where I ended up. Alone and away with him. I shared this with him. His response..."So you like vacations." God is it any wonder we are where we are.

Fuzzy Moments #2

A soft bosom holding my head against it. It seems familiar. Yes. My neighbor whom I have known most of my life. Safe. It was always safe cradled against her.

Why is this man rubbing my head? Who is he? There is a vague recollection of a mention of an IV and me saying "you better be good at this" to whom I don't know. No face comes to mind.

There is no pain from the needle as it penetrates my arm. No memory of tubes protruding from me. No concept of a journey or arrival to a hospital. No family or friends with me. Just darkness and no pain. Ah, no pain.

"You need to drink the charcoal or we will have to put an NG tube in you," said nurse Rachett with a smile. Okay maybe not but I think she was enjoying the thought.

I guess I drank it. They say I did. Ended up with a silly black toothed grin when I was finished. Probably just as well I have no awareness of that!

No sense of time...only flashes of moments. As if life was a slide show . Yes that is it! It is as if I am watching a slide show. Disconnected pictures caught in time, out of order and senseless. Only I am the subject of the show with no consciousness of what has taken place. And someone has filled in the blanks for me. And I am to trust what went on in between by what they say has happened. Surreal...so damned surreal.

Flashes: People arriving, husband, best friend. She holds me against her and cries. "You can't do this to me" she says. "You can't leave me. Don't you know what today is." The first anniversary of her dad's death. I only knew at that moment.

Flashes: Poop...lots of poop and many different people wiping my ass. Charcoal really cleans you out. Not so nice either. Gritty...different kind of pain!

Flashes: Daughter who found me sitting against the wall. Me telling her to come to the beside. Asking her what she thought. Her letting me have it. Me throwing her out. Other daughter going with her. Not my best moment. But then how does is get worse at this point?

Lucidity begins to reign. Not much but some. I am in the 'bad girl hall'. Under surveillance. Someone outside my door watching my every move. At some point it becomes clear to me. I am not going home.

Welcome to "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest"

Normal

I kayaked today. That seemed like a normal thing to do. Normal. What is that? This normal they speak of? Nothing is normal right now. I am here. He is there. Nearly two weeks apart. Barely speaking. So not normal.

Do you remember this girl? Cause that was when she was normal.

Fuzzy Moments

They tell stories. The things I did. Glimpses come back like visions of someone else's life. Fuzzy videos running through my mind.

Was that really me? I have no reason to believe it wasn't. They wouldn't lie to me...would they? Now I sound paranoid. Oh god don't add that to the repertoire.

No, I remember. It was the pain. I couldn't stand the pain. Not pain in the sense that 'I have broken my leg, please help me.' No the kind of pain that keeps you from breathing. Paralyzes you. The heart breaking kind. One word written on a cell phone:

"HOPELESS"

The bottle of pills. Klonopine. Just to get me through the tough moments. This was a though moment wasn't it? Sleep. I wanted to sleep. The kind of sleep where you feel nothing. Dream nothing. See nothing. Anesthetized. I didn't want to feel the pain.

"HOPELESS" Sleep...27 Klonopine.

"Tell my kids I love them"

"Tell them yourself"

Sleep. Sounds. Doors slamming. She is yelling for me.

"MOM"

I am trying to call back to her from some distant place in my mind. Does she hear me?

My arm...why are you lifting it and letting it fall like that? Screaming, guttural screaming. It's okay I want to tell her. The pain is gone...I am sleeping. I am finally sleeping. Please don't wake me. I just can't take the pain.

A Painful UTI

I'm not crazy

I'm just a little unwell

I know right now you can't tell

But stay awhile and maybe then You'll see

A different side of me

I'm not crazy

I'm just a little impaired

I know right now you don't care

But soon enough you're gonna think of me

And how I used to be

Matchbox 20

Think anyone believes this after you have ingested a bottled of narcotics and you have charcoal running out of your ass?

So begins my journey back from my UTI (unfortunate tragic incident), my journey into self-discovery, life as a single woman after 30 years of marriage and whatever else comes along. So friends, those I have left, if you are brave enough, come along for the ride.