Right now, it's raining sideways outside, and blowing in every conceivable direction. Good time to be inside.
Remember my concern and consternation regarding Challenge Child #2? Well, sometimes if you whine long enough and loud enough, Fate will throw you a crumb just to shut you up. Andrew has a part-time job. It's a continuation of one he had during high school and early college - dishwashing at Beaches, the local favorite waterfront restaurant. Nothing earth-shattering, but bucks are bucks - and in Washington/Oregon, even minimum wage is OK - we have the two highest state-wide minimum wages in the country. He works evenings, which is great, because he's also going back to school. No, not graduate school....a certificate program at one of the community colleges in Portland. Tim has been a guest lecturer for the Sustainability/Hazardous Materials Management program for almost a decade, and knows the professor well. And apparently this gentleman has such a rapport with the industry that every student in his program gets an internship, 90% of which lead to permanent positions of one kind or another. So, it's worth a shot.
Perhaps the best outcome of all this is that I am reminded once again of how incredible my created family is... how wonderfully our kids have turned out, and how united we can be when one of us is in need of support or help. We rally to one another whenever it's necessary, and no one keeps score, or casts blame, or looks for credit. It's just what good families do. And if that's all that ever comes of it, so be it.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Friday, March 23, 2012
I Believe in Music.....
Greetings to those who actually follow this, although I can't believe anyone actually does....if you remember the "stay tuned" which referred to voice issues....THERE IS A GOD, AND SHE IS GOOD! If ever there was an example of why one must be a committed advocate of one's own health care, it is I. Had a return visit to Dr. Wonderful last week, after a therapy session that confounded the therapist as much as it did me. Voice quality changing every couple of minutes, with no particular reason. Thinking that perhaps a sinus CT was in fact indicated, Dr. W was kind enough to see me the following day.
As he threaded the Magic Camera once again, he decided to look upward, which wasn't done previously because my gag/choke/cough reflex got in the way. This time it didn't, and I quote, "Well, lookie here....I do believe that's a Tornwaldt's Cyst!" Excuse me, a Who? What? And therein lies the answer to the voice dilemma. There is a marble-to-golf ball sized cyst at the back of my sinus cavity - no one knows how it got there, how long it's been there, or anything else. It's apparently fairly rare, but good ol' Dr. W knew it when he saw it! It's coming out on April 16th, by which time it looks like the problem will be resolved, save a bit of healing from its removal.
Can I get an Hallelujah??????
As he threaded the Magic Camera once again, he decided to look upward, which wasn't done previously because my gag/choke/cough reflex got in the way. This time it didn't, and I quote, "Well, lookie here....I do believe that's a Tornwaldt's Cyst!" Excuse me, a Who? What? And therein lies the answer to the voice dilemma. There is a marble-to-golf ball sized cyst at the back of my sinus cavity - no one knows how it got there, how long it's been there, or anything else. It's apparently fairly rare, but good ol' Dr. W knew it when he saw it! It's coming out on April 16th, by which time it looks like the problem will be resolved, save a bit of healing from its removal.
Can I get an Hallelujah??????
Friday, March 9, 2012
"May ye be in heaven half an hour 'fore the devil knows y'er dead...."
Today would have been my mom's 91st birthday. Although I've lived without her for 17 years, I never fail to remember her birthday. Always have, always will. And 6 years ago, an event occurred to cement this day in my brain, as much as I would sometimes prefer to forget it. Some history is required....
When I was a kid growing up in Shaker Heights, a beautiful suburb of Cleveland, our family was part of a very tight parish community where all the families knew each other, and all the kids knew each other or had siblings who knew each other because we all went to the same Catholic school. You couldn't get away with anything, because the parental grapevine was highly efficient. There was one family in particular with whom ours was very close; our parents were best friends, my brother and their oldest son were best friends; Maureen and I were best friends; her mom was my confirmation sponsor, and my parents were godparents to her youngest brother. We couldn't have been closer had we been surgically attached. They even bought a house around the corner from ours.
And then Dad got transferred to California. For me, it was awful on more levels than I could count, and as excited as my parents were, they were crushed to be leaving their friends. Distance did not end the friendship; when my brother's best friend was being shipped out to Vietnam from San Francisco, he and his mom stayed with us until it was time to go. His dad couldn't bear to say goodbye, so my dad did it for him. When my dad died of cancer, his best friend came out to be a pallbearer and hold us while we cried. when Mom died, her best friend was crushed. When our grade school class held its 25th reunion, I stayed with Maureen to attend the festivities. Are you getting the picture here? I know families who don't see as much of their own siblings.
We were all aging, knowing in the recesses of our minds that we would one day hear of the passing of our friends' parents. When my brother called me 6 years ago on my mother's birthday and said he had just talked to his friend Jim, I knew instantly the time had come. I asked if it was his dad, whose health I knew had been somewhat fragile. He said no, it was worse than that - it was both parents. He went on to explain that my friend Maureen had taken her youngest daughter and her parents to say goodbye as her oldest son, a West Point graduate, was deployed to Afghanistan. As they began the drive back to Cleveland, her van was stopped at a red light when it was rear-ended by a Chrysler PT Cruiser going 80 mph in city traffic. The driver and his passenger were having a domestic dispute, and as she attempted to exit the moving vehicle, he continued to speed up to prevent that. It worked. The impact was sudden, dramatic, and fatal. Maureen's parents, my mom and dad's very favorites, were killed instantly; Maureen's 11 year old daughter, who'd been sitting with her grandpa in the back seat, was mortally injured. Maureen was severely crushed, but alive.
And all of this on my mom's birthday.
In one split second, Maureen lost an enormous chunk of her life, and what was left changed irrevocably. Her daughter was kept alive until the other 5 siblings could get to the hospital in Louisiana. The soldier son was stopped mid-travel and brought back to be with the family. Halle died with her family surrounding her, two days following her grandparents. The passenger of the other car was left a paraplegic, and of course, the driver had nary a scratch. Fortunately, he will never again see the light of day - the justice system for once did a good job of assuring that.
Both my brother and I traveled to the funerals, drove through our old neighborhoods, visited old friends, and stumbled somewhat stonefaced through the days. We returned home on St. Patrick's Day, a day that used to be full of parties for our parents and their friends, and school celebrations for the Catholic school kids. And from that point on, Mom's birthday has never been the same. She has time to spend with her best friend in heaven, but at such a price. I know my friend Maureen will bear those scars, physical and emotional, for the rest of her days.
Happy Birthday, Mom....
When I was a kid growing up in Shaker Heights, a beautiful suburb of Cleveland, our family was part of a very tight parish community where all the families knew each other, and all the kids knew each other or had siblings who knew each other because we all went to the same Catholic school. You couldn't get away with anything, because the parental grapevine was highly efficient. There was one family in particular with whom ours was very close; our parents were best friends, my brother and their oldest son were best friends; Maureen and I were best friends; her mom was my confirmation sponsor, and my parents were godparents to her youngest brother. We couldn't have been closer had we been surgically attached. They even bought a house around the corner from ours.
And then Dad got transferred to California. For me, it was awful on more levels than I could count, and as excited as my parents were, they were crushed to be leaving their friends. Distance did not end the friendship; when my brother's best friend was being shipped out to Vietnam from San Francisco, he and his mom stayed with us until it was time to go. His dad couldn't bear to say goodbye, so my dad did it for him. When my dad died of cancer, his best friend came out to be a pallbearer and hold us while we cried. when Mom died, her best friend was crushed. When our grade school class held its 25th reunion, I stayed with Maureen to attend the festivities. Are you getting the picture here? I know families who don't see as much of their own siblings.
We were all aging, knowing in the recesses of our minds that we would one day hear of the passing of our friends' parents. When my brother called me 6 years ago on my mother's birthday and said he had just talked to his friend Jim, I knew instantly the time had come. I asked if it was his dad, whose health I knew had been somewhat fragile. He said no, it was worse than that - it was both parents. He went on to explain that my friend Maureen had taken her youngest daughter and her parents to say goodbye as her oldest son, a West Point graduate, was deployed to Afghanistan. As they began the drive back to Cleveland, her van was stopped at a red light when it was rear-ended by a Chrysler PT Cruiser going 80 mph in city traffic. The driver and his passenger were having a domestic dispute, and as she attempted to exit the moving vehicle, he continued to speed up to prevent that. It worked. The impact was sudden, dramatic, and fatal. Maureen's parents, my mom and dad's very favorites, were killed instantly; Maureen's 11 year old daughter, who'd been sitting with her grandpa in the back seat, was mortally injured. Maureen was severely crushed, but alive.
And all of this on my mom's birthday.
In one split second, Maureen lost an enormous chunk of her life, and what was left changed irrevocably. Her daughter was kept alive until the other 5 siblings could get to the hospital in Louisiana. The soldier son was stopped mid-travel and brought back to be with the family. Halle died with her family surrounding her, two days following her grandparents. The passenger of the other car was left a paraplegic, and of course, the driver had nary a scratch. Fortunately, he will never again see the light of day - the justice system for once did a good job of assuring that.
Both my brother and I traveled to the funerals, drove through our old neighborhoods, visited old friends, and stumbled somewhat stonefaced through the days. We returned home on St. Patrick's Day, a day that used to be full of parties for our parents and their friends, and school celebrations for the Catholic school kids. And from that point on, Mom's birthday has never been the same. She has time to spend with her best friend in heaven, but at such a price. I know my friend Maureen will bear those scars, physical and emotional, for the rest of her days.
Happy Birthday, Mom....
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