Thank you Louise and Shannee for your condolences. Life is returning to normal. My granddaughter actually did have to have a minor surgical procedure to clean drain the infection, she is now healing and recovering well. I have been dealing with my grief and it did help to cry it out that night. My routine is definitely changed now. There is no cat to feed or give a pat to. Of course I still have the three dogs who command and vie for my attention, but this is the first time in almost 20 years that I have not had a feline friend around. It is strange for me. Dogs and cats are most certainly different and I miss that interaction that I had with her (as demanding and conditional as it was). It has crossed my mind to get another, but my last four cat losses were very hard and I am not ready. I also really don't have the time and financial resources to devote to another animal.
I must say that I hate playing god. It is always a gut wrenching decision to know when it is the right time to end a life, especially when it is slow decline and not relieving total misery. Perhaps it was good that I had a major distraction on that day. Her passing was not nearly as peaceful as others that I helped cross over. Certainly it wasn't painful, but she fought so hard against it I had to second guess myself.
It makes me ponder the suffering we allow our human loved ones to endure, even when they are capable of voicing when they no longer want to deal with the agony of this life. After watching my grandmother, aunt and then my father suffer through what was known to be a losing battle, I wish I had the courage and the resources to help them end their struggle. I understand all of the ethical implications and the possibility of abuse, yet compassion is compassion whether an animal or a human being is involved. I absolutely do not understand why we, as a culture, can justify killing in war, but not help someone die with dignity. Perhaps I should be glad that I did not have to play god in those cases. However, a bit of regret remains.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
I didn't even realize that it had been about three months since I posted here. I can give all kinds of excuses, but I am not going to. I just haven't had much to say, at least not much that I thought anyone would want to read. Maybe I still don't, but I am writing tonight anyway. J was here last night and it was wonderful. He made everything better. Tonight I am alone and I am exhausted and incredibly sad.
Last week my granddaughter was in the hospital. She had an infection in her neck, or should I say in a lump on her neck. Bottom line her lymph node was infected and necrotic and they thought it might be a staph infection. She spent several days in the hospital hooked up to IV antibiotics. She is home now and still on antibiotics (heavy duty ones), but she had to return to the emergency room last night and have the lump drained. I wasn't there, but I guess it was pretty hard on her. They had to make an incision and get all the infection out.
If I may back up even more...the day she went into the hospital last week, was the day I took my incredibly old, blind cat to the vet to be euthanized. In fact, I was on my way there, when my son called to say they were going to the hospital. I am very good at pushing my emotions deep inside and ignoring them. I pushed my grief about my cat to the side, so I could deal with the worry about my granddaughter. I was successful in doing that until today. Today I got home from work and got the mail in, I noticed something that looked like a card. I thought it would be something pleasant, maybe an invitation. Instead, it was a condolence card from our vet. I stood there looking at it for a moment as it all sunk in, I just began to sob. I am not a crier, but I have been crying on and off all night.
It is silly and I am mad at myself. I love my pets, I certainly have grieved deeply for an animal before, but I don't want this. I want to stuff it all back in and forget about it. She was old, she was sick, out of all the animals we have had, I was never particularly bonded to her. She didn't even like me when she was younger and she just tolerated me when she was old. But I cared for her. In fact I cared for her for 16 years. She was my son's cat, when he left home he left her here and I continued to care for her. When she became blind, I continued to care for her. In fact, I was careful not to move anything around and to stand and guard her food while she was eating (so the dogs would not steal it). I became much more aware of where she was at my feet, so I would not step on her or bump her. I brushed her when she could not groom herself anymore (at least as much as she would tolerate before she tried to bite me). She and I developed and maintained a routine and an understanding. She put up with me, because she needed me and I put up with her, because she reminded me of myself. We were both tough and we were survivors. In fact she was such a tough survivor that she hissed and spit at the vet in her last minutes and it took two injections to finally stop her heart. Maybe she knew, maybe she did not want to go gentle into that good night. Somehow I think I Dylan Thomas reference is appropriate for her (especially a poem about his blind father for my blind cat).
So I guess I will continue to shed a few tears for her tonight. I actually am releasing the events of the last week as I am releasing her. Because tomorrow life marches on and I must march on with it. Tonight though, I can cry for Cybil.
Last week my granddaughter was in the hospital. She had an infection in her neck, or should I say in a lump on her neck. Bottom line her lymph node was infected and necrotic and they thought it might be a staph infection. She spent several days in the hospital hooked up to IV antibiotics. She is home now and still on antibiotics (heavy duty ones), but she had to return to the emergency room last night and have the lump drained. I wasn't there, but I guess it was pretty hard on her. They had to make an incision and get all the infection out.
If I may back up even more...the day she went into the hospital last week, was the day I took my incredibly old, blind cat to the vet to be euthanized. In fact, I was on my way there, when my son called to say they were going to the hospital. I am very good at pushing my emotions deep inside and ignoring them. I pushed my grief about my cat to the side, so I could deal with the worry about my granddaughter. I was successful in doing that until today. Today I got home from work and got the mail in, I noticed something that looked like a card. I thought it would be something pleasant, maybe an invitation. Instead, it was a condolence card from our vet. I stood there looking at it for a moment as it all sunk in, I just began to sob. I am not a crier, but I have been crying on and off all night.
It is silly and I am mad at myself. I love my pets, I certainly have grieved deeply for an animal before, but I don't want this. I want to stuff it all back in and forget about it. She was old, she was sick, out of all the animals we have had, I was never particularly bonded to her. She didn't even like me when she was younger and she just tolerated me when she was old. But I cared for her. In fact I cared for her for 16 years. She was my son's cat, when he left home he left her here and I continued to care for her. When she became blind, I continued to care for her. In fact, I was careful not to move anything around and to stand and guard her food while she was eating (so the dogs would not steal it). I became much more aware of where she was at my feet, so I would not step on her or bump her. I brushed her when she could not groom herself anymore (at least as much as she would tolerate before she tried to bite me). She and I developed and maintained a routine and an understanding. She put up with me, because she needed me and I put up with her, because she reminded me of myself. We were both tough and we were survivors. In fact she was such a tough survivor that she hissed and spit at the vet in her last minutes and it took two injections to finally stop her heart. Maybe she knew, maybe she did not want to go gentle into that good night. Somehow I think I Dylan Thomas reference is appropriate for her (especially a poem about his blind father for my blind cat).
So I guess I will continue to shed a few tears for her tonight. I actually am releasing the events of the last week as I am releasing her. Because tomorrow life marches on and I must march on with it. Tonight though, I can cry for Cybil.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Bittersweet
This week, one of the boys (young men) I work with graduated from our program. He is probably one of my favorites (yes, I know I shouldn't have favorites). I have very mixed feelings about this. This is how it is supposed to work. Very troubled young men come to our program (usually by way of a court order). We provide counseling, training, mentoring and lots of supervision, they progress and then they leave us to go on to bigger and better things. That is not how it always works, some of these boys (they are young enough to be my sons, they are boys) will never acquire enough skills or self-control to move on. They are manipulative, they are lazy, they have mental health issues going on, they are very angry young men. Others will leave and then mess up and return to us. Some will learn what they need to learn and will be okay.
This particular young man calls me drill sarge, he has tested me time and time again. He has threatened me, cursed at me, confessed to me and tried to shock me. He is Eddie Haskell, but more sincere. He hates the program, but he knows that I care. He pushes and I push back. He is an extremely talented person. Lately, he has done really well, he has tapped into his talents. He has dared to dream and to form a plan to achieve it. He also has very little support network outside of our program. I hope he can hold it together, I hope he can keep his focus. I hope he keeps in touch. I hope he makes it.
I know I am Mom to many of these young men. I don't encourage it, but I know it can't be helped. Most of them need a mom. All of them need someone to believe in them, but also hold them accountable. Some of them I am quite fond of, some of them I think are punks. I try to put my personal feelings aside, I act professionally, I try to be fair. I also know that fair is not necessarily everyone getting the same thing, but everyone getting what they need. Sometimes though, I do feel like Mom. I feel that way, when they bring in torn clothes and ask me to sew them. I feel that way, when they expect me to bake them a birthday cake. I feel that way, when I call them on the carpet and they answer, "yes ma am." I have also felt that way after they are gone, when they have moved on. Yet, they call from a hospital bed after emergency surgery, or when their brother dies in an accident, or when they just show up and ask me if I would still sew something up for them.
Today, I wanted to tell my Eddie Haskell, don't forget to call me and let me know you are okay. I wanted to tell him not to forget that I cared about him. What I said was, "Good luck, stay out of trouble and don't let me see you back here." He said, "I'll see you around, Drill Sarge."
This particular young man calls me drill sarge, he has tested me time and time again. He has threatened me, cursed at me, confessed to me and tried to shock me. He is Eddie Haskell, but more sincere. He hates the program, but he knows that I care. He pushes and I push back. He is an extremely talented person. Lately, he has done really well, he has tapped into his talents. He has dared to dream and to form a plan to achieve it. He also has very little support network outside of our program. I hope he can hold it together, I hope he can keep his focus. I hope he keeps in touch. I hope he makes it.
I know I am Mom to many of these young men. I don't encourage it, but I know it can't be helped. Most of them need a mom. All of them need someone to believe in them, but also hold them accountable. Some of them I am quite fond of, some of them I think are punks. I try to put my personal feelings aside, I act professionally, I try to be fair. I also know that fair is not necessarily everyone getting the same thing, but everyone getting what they need. Sometimes though, I do feel like Mom. I feel that way, when they bring in torn clothes and ask me to sew them. I feel that way, when they expect me to bake them a birthday cake. I feel that way, when I call them on the carpet and they answer, "yes ma am." I have also felt that way after they are gone, when they have moved on. Yet, they call from a hospital bed after emergency surgery, or when their brother dies in an accident, or when they just show up and ask me if I would still sew something up for them.
Today, I wanted to tell my Eddie Haskell, don't forget to call me and let me know you are okay. I wanted to tell him not to forget that I cared about him. What I said was, "Good luck, stay out of trouble and don't let me see you back here." He said, "I'll see you around, Drill Sarge."
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Finding my way back to gratitude
It has been almost a month since I posted anything on either blog. Things have not been bad, but I have been indifferent. Many days, my life has been a mere existence. I have been tired, going through the motions of everything I have to do. Time has been speeding past, minutes turning into hours, turning into days and weeks, with little being accomplished or even appreciated at times. I operate on auto-pilot, telling myself I will do this or that after this or that occurs. You know...I will _____, when I have more time, more money, more energy...when the weather is warmer or drier. Anyway, you get the idea. The problem with this 'treading water' type of existence is that I have lost my gratitude. Without realizing it, I stopped influencing my surroundings and let them influence me.
We all make a choice regarding our happiness. We make choices to use or to neglect our potential and our resources. I have been neglecting mine. Every day, we have the opportunity for joy. Our actions and our words can affirm and build up (both ourselves and others) or they can chastise and tear down. We can be proactive or we can be reactive. Today, I have chosen to be proactively joyful. Actually, I didn't really choose this, I encountered some things which shook me awake. I was pulled from my complacency and my slumber into a place of gratitude. I became recommitted to living and living well. I am grateful for all of the small things which I take for granted. I am grateful for all of my friends and family, even when they are demanding and annoying, for they provide me an outlet for my love and they trust me enough to be demanding and annoying. I am grateful for my aches and pains, they are not debilitating or terminal and I am alive and breathing. I am grateful for the the demands of my job, they show I am needed, I serve a purpose, I have stable employment in these times of economic turmoil. I am grateful for my home, I am blessed to have a comfortable dwelling to reside in. I am grateful that I have the ability to care for myself and others, that I am able to cook and clean and work. I am grateful for my mind, for my ability to think and process and conclude certain truths (at least as I see them). I am grateful for the food we have in our home, that I can feed myself and my family and even the pets. I am grateful for the messes I have to clean up, for it means that life goes on in this house and I am physically able to deal with it.
I can dwell on the lack in my life or on the abundance. I can speak of my complaints or of my blessings. My attitude and my focus determines my outcomes. I can live peacefully or in turmoil. My words and my actions determine not only my mood, but also my results.
These are some of the things that have blessed me today and directed me towards gratitude:
A Holy Experience
Her words touch me and sooth me. Even if you do not embrace her beliefs, her loving and gentle spirit is apparent in her messages.
NieNie
She was also recently on Oprah, watch the clip here.
The dogs were surrounding a spot in the grass this morning, they were all alarmed and barking. I went out to see what the commotion was about and found this (image found on Google, but this is exactly what it looked like)
It was very humorous to me to see my three dogs (ranging from 45 to 100 pounds) being so intimidated by a crawfish that was less than three inches long.
The sun is out and it is the weekend. I am feeling well. I will see J in a few days. I cleaned up a huge mess in the kitchen this morning, because my son cooked an excellent dinner for me last night. I am listening to beautiful music that makes my soul soar. My gratitude and joy have chased away those unwelcome squatters that are fear and anxiety. I danced with the dogs while cleaning the kitchen (both my grandchildren and dogs love dancing with me...yes, we are silly).
We all make a choice regarding our happiness. We make choices to use or to neglect our potential and our resources. I have been neglecting mine. Every day, we have the opportunity for joy. Our actions and our words can affirm and build up (both ourselves and others) or they can chastise and tear down. We can be proactive or we can be reactive. Today, I have chosen to be proactively joyful. Actually, I didn't really choose this, I encountered some things which shook me awake. I was pulled from my complacency and my slumber into a place of gratitude. I became recommitted to living and living well. I am grateful for all of the small things which I take for granted. I am grateful for all of my friends and family, even when they are demanding and annoying, for they provide me an outlet for my love and they trust me enough to be demanding and annoying. I am grateful for my aches and pains, they are not debilitating or terminal and I am alive and breathing. I am grateful for the the demands of my job, they show I am needed, I serve a purpose, I have stable employment in these times of economic turmoil. I am grateful for my home, I am blessed to have a comfortable dwelling to reside in. I am grateful that I have the ability to care for myself and others, that I am able to cook and clean and work. I am grateful for my mind, for my ability to think and process and conclude certain truths (at least as I see them). I am grateful for the food we have in our home, that I can feed myself and my family and even the pets. I am grateful for the messes I have to clean up, for it means that life goes on in this house and I am physically able to deal with it.
I can dwell on the lack in my life or on the abundance. I can speak of my complaints or of my blessings. My attitude and my focus determines my outcomes. I can live peacefully or in turmoil. My words and my actions determine not only my mood, but also my results.
These are some of the things that have blessed me today and directed me towards gratitude:
A Holy Experience
Her words touch me and sooth me. Even if you do not embrace her beliefs, her loving and gentle spirit is apparent in her messages.
NieNie
She was also recently on Oprah, watch the clip here.
The dogs were surrounding a spot in the grass this morning, they were all alarmed and barking. I went out to see what the commotion was about and found this (image found on Google, but this is exactly what it looked like)
It was very humorous to me to see my three dogs (ranging from 45 to 100 pounds) being so intimidated by a crawfish that was less than three inches long.
The sun is out and it is the weekend. I am feeling well. I will see J in a few days. I cleaned up a huge mess in the kitchen this morning, because my son cooked an excellent dinner for me last night. I am listening to beautiful music that makes my soul soar. My gratitude and joy have chased away those unwelcome squatters that are fear and anxiety. I danced with the dogs while cleaning the kitchen (both my grandchildren and dogs love dancing with me...yes, we are silly).
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Hope and Change...Part 2
If you read here, you already know that I voted for Barack Obama. Obviously, many people did...he is the President you know. Since he has been in office, he has been fiercely criticized. What people forget is that he faces the insurmountable task of getting the country back on track. He has been criticized for spending too much, for reneging on campaign promises, for being a Socialist (not a bad thing in my view). Then there are those who question his citizenship, who question his motives, who question his loyalties. The attacks on him used to bother me, I thought people should give him a chance, I thought they should be more supportive. I am rethinking that, not because I no longer support him, but because at least people are talking. People are engaged. Love him or hate him, people are listening, they are debating, they are (seemingly) caring about what is happening in the country. He inspires people to take a stand (whether for or against him). He inspires people to passion. He is good looking, he is well spoken, he is intelligent (yea for intelligence in the White House!). So, whether you think he is Satan or Jesus, I think it is wonderful to have a smart, witty, and entertaining President.
In case you have forgotten how far we have come...
And how very cool is it that our President appeared on David Letterman (another smart, funny and sometimes controversial man)?
So, I encourage everyone to keep talking, keep debating, keep listening, keep caring. Take action, protest, write letters, make phone calls. Wherever you stand on the issues, just keep taking a stand. Keep being inspired and appreciate that our President is exciting.
In case you have forgotten how far we have come...
And how very cool is it that our President appeared on David Letterman (another smart, funny and sometimes controversial man)?
So, I encourage everyone to keep talking, keep debating, keep listening, keep caring. Take action, protest, write letters, make phone calls. Wherever you stand on the issues, just keep taking a stand. Keep being inspired and appreciate that our President is exciting.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Hope and Change
It is a rainy fall day here. The house smells faintly of wet dog and play-doh. Soon it will smell much better, I am about to start on the Bolognese sauce for dinner. I'm not sure where summer went. The grandkids are back in school, the dogs are once again obsessed with their quest to rid the world of squirrels, rainy days mean mud-tracked floors and dirt. One of my lost boys from the past, is now back in my home for the time being. I suppose everyone needs a refuge they can return to when life becomes too hard. My last post was over a month ago, it is not from a lack of thoughts, I'm just not sure I have anything worthwhile to say or that I have too much to say to condense into a manageable read. So I will resort to a rambling, disjointed myriad of what is on my mind.
The recent months have produced a list of celebrity deaths. My last post was about Ethyl Kennedy, shortly after we lost her brother Ted. Patrick Swayze succumbed to the cancer he valiantly fought. Mary Travers lost her battle as well (a much less publicized battle). I know there have been others, but these most readily come to mind. It makes me reflect on the gifts they left us. Not just the gifts they gave us in life, but the gifts of their deaths. Ted and Patrick are foremost in my mind. They faced and dealt with dying (and living with impending death) in the public eye. They did so with courage and grace. I hope that I can be half as dignified when I face my own demise. They embraced the life they had left, they refused to slip quietly into the night, they fought bravely and they accepted their fate. It gives me pause in this hurried and harried life. It makes me thankful for what I have and accepting of what I do not. It makes me reach out to family and friends. For whatever we have (and do not have) today, can all change in the blink of an eye.
I have been feeling very domestic lately. I have been in a nesting mode. I have also been evaluating the things that I want to accomplish. I few years ago, I felt I had plenty of time. Now time seems to be speeding along at warp speed. My goals haven't changed, but some things have happened that changed my path. I was supposed to finish my degree this past spring. The lack of transportation and available funds delayed that. I am now on plan B. I haven't abandoned that goal, but I have had to change boats in midstream. I know it will happen, I'm just not sure when. Occasionally, I feel a twinge of regret and resentment over the circumstances that have curtailed my plans. Then I acknowledge that I am not in control, that I will have to work within the happenings of the Universe. Overall, I am content. The lack in my life has made me appreciate what I do have. It has afforded me empathy and has made me resilient. I see my sons learning this same lesson, not as patiently and accepting as I have been, but they are learning. My whole life has been about change and having to drop back and punt. I am glad that things haven't been easy. I would not be grateful for easy.
In all of this, I have hope. I hope for a better world for my grandchildren. I hope for a life of continued learning. I hope for equality and fairness for those who have been denied it. I hope that people will be able to look beyond their own circumstance and problems and know the truth. I hope that the leaders of the country will put aside their differences and join together for the good of their constituents. I hope that people of all belief systems will be able to embrace the love and compassion that is the basis of most of those belief systems. For being a realist, I am also a hopeless romantic.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
The recent months have produced a list of celebrity deaths. My last post was about Ethyl Kennedy, shortly after we lost her brother Ted. Patrick Swayze succumbed to the cancer he valiantly fought. Mary Travers lost her battle as well (a much less publicized battle). I know there have been others, but these most readily come to mind. It makes me reflect on the gifts they left us. Not just the gifts they gave us in life, but the gifts of their deaths. Ted and Patrick are foremost in my mind. They faced and dealt with dying (and living with impending death) in the public eye. They did so with courage and grace. I hope that I can be half as dignified when I face my own demise. They embraced the life they had left, they refused to slip quietly into the night, they fought bravely and they accepted their fate. It gives me pause in this hurried and harried life. It makes me thankful for what I have and accepting of what I do not. It makes me reach out to family and friends. For whatever we have (and do not have) today, can all change in the blink of an eye.
I have been feeling very domestic lately. I have been in a nesting mode. I have also been evaluating the things that I want to accomplish. I few years ago, I felt I had plenty of time. Now time seems to be speeding along at warp speed. My goals haven't changed, but some things have happened that changed my path. I was supposed to finish my degree this past spring. The lack of transportation and available funds delayed that. I am now on plan B. I haven't abandoned that goal, but I have had to change boats in midstream. I know it will happen, I'm just not sure when. Occasionally, I feel a twinge of regret and resentment over the circumstances that have curtailed my plans. Then I acknowledge that I am not in control, that I will have to work within the happenings of the Universe. Overall, I am content. The lack in my life has made me appreciate what I do have. It has afforded me empathy and has made me resilient. I see my sons learning this same lesson, not as patiently and accepting as I have been, but they are learning. My whole life has been about change and having to drop back and punt. I am glad that things haven't been easy. I would not be grateful for easy.
In all of this, I have hope. I hope for a better world for my grandchildren. I hope for a life of continued learning. I hope for equality and fairness for those who have been denied it. I hope that people will be able to look beyond their own circumstance and problems and know the truth. I hope that the leaders of the country will put aside their differences and join together for the good of their constituents. I hope that people of all belief systems will be able to embrace the love and compassion that is the basis of most of those belief systems. For being a realist, I am also a hopeless romantic.
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
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