I Wish I Could be Sure

Mathew wrote in one of his comments: “Thank you Cheryl. I think you guys are gonna be OK.” I wish I could be sure of that.

So many people comment to me about how strong I am; how much they admire me; or how I am an inspiration to them. I don’t feel like I am worthy of any of those comments.

Every time I have to make a big decision I get so filled with panic, especially if it involves spending money. Raymond quit helping me make decisions in 2005. I remember the day he refused to help me decide on whether or not to fix my old van or buy a new one. I was furious. He saw it as preparing me for the future. I saw it as his way of giving up. He reminded me that I made most of the decisions any way, so it wasn’t a big deal. He did not understand that I made the big decisions after we had sounded ideas off of each others, and I was not ready to give that up.

I have good friends that let me bounce my thoughts around about decisions I need to make, but it is not the same as having Raymond here. When I bounced ideas off of Raymond I was talking to someone else that was truly invested in the decision because it affected his future and lifestyle as much as mine.

Will I ever stop feeling overwhelmed? Where is this strength everyone keeps talking about?

Mathew – why do you think we are “gonna be OK?” What are you seeing that I am not?

Some people will say, oh she is just have a “pity me” day, but if I am, it has been a really long day. I don’t think I have ever made a decision without agonizing over it. It is that agonizing that stops me from exploring life the way I dream of. Like this blog, it has been a dream of mine since Raymond started his in 2004. It took me until 2007 to actually set it up and post.

There are days I sit in my chair and think about how life is passing me by because I do not reach for my dreams. You would think that after watching Raymond live each day to its fullest and the watching his death I would be out going crazy trying to fill each moment with life and all its blessing, but I am not. I am sitting here wondering if the boys are ok, if I am ok. So Mathew – what do you see?

Weighing in for March

Last night was the last TOPS weigh in for March. I had my third loss in a row, meaning I lost weight three weeks in a row. My loss for March was 3.5 pounds. I wish it was ten pounds, but I am so thrilled I didn’t gain weight this month.

I need to lose 70 pounds. If you take off what I have lost, gained and then lost again since January, 2007, then I only have 68 pounds more to lose to reach my goal weight. If I figure a loss of approximately 3 pounds a month, I could reach goal in a little less than two years. If I can continue to lose 3 pounds each month, then I might reach my goal by the time I am 50. If I reach my goal, I will weigh twelve pounds less than I weighed when I got married.

Of course being able to lose 3 pounds a month seems impossible to me. I am a stress eater, and I definitely have stress. I also love food. Not necessarily cakes, cookies, chips, etc., but real food, especially Mexican cuisine and Tex-Mex. Sometimes I start thinking about a food and I think I will go crazy if I don’t get that particular flavor. I remember getting a bad report from one of Raymond’s doctors and craving M&M’s. I went to Kroger’s and ate the whole bag in the parking lot of Kroger’s. It was not the giant bag, but it certainly wasn’t the one by the checkout counter either. That hasn’t happened again, and I do not want it to happen again, but at that moment I really thought I would go crazy without a bag of M&M’s. I don’t even like M&M’s very much.

I am doing better. I have been reading You: On a Diet, not beginning to end, but in bits and pieces. Some of the ideas are really sticking with me, and I am noticing that I can make myself feel satisfied longer, without overdoing the calories.

The saddest part about my weight problem is that I know what I need to do to lose weight. My degree is in dietetics. I did not become a registered dietician because I discovered soon after graduation that I did not like the job, but I did learn all about what to do to take care of myself. Unfortunately, I don’t do it. I equate my having a degree in dietetics and being obese to when I would sit outside M.D. Anderson Cancer Center and watch the doctors and nurses smoke. Those doctors and nurses know that cigarettes can kill them, just as I know being obese can kill me, and yet they still smoke, and I still eat high calorie foods.

I have been walking an average of fifteen miles a week. I go to the local rec center and use their indoor walking track. Most days a good friend goes with me. It is amazing how much a walking partner helps me reach my goal of three miles.

Next week is the first weigh in of April. I’m not going to say I'm hoping for a loss, I'm going to say I'm working towards a loss.

HA - I Fooled Them

I fooled the Direct Energy people. Tonight I went to their website and set up an account for my mother. Once logged on I was able to get a copy of her recent bill, the one that we did not receive, and is now overdue. I did not need a validation code.

Tomorrow I will pay the bill online. I signed up for e-bills in the future.

Why did they have to make this so hard? Why didn't I think of going to the website hours ago instead of being upset all evening? I pay most of my bills online - why didn't I immediately think of doing that for my mother?

At least I won't lie awake worrying about that bill all night, I can pick something else off my list of worries instead.

I Just Want to Pay the Bill!!!!

My mother has memory issues. It is because of these memory issues that last month I took over paying her bills. It is also because of this memory issue that I am having trouble organizing a system to date. She cannot find her previous statements, and I cannot figure out the due dates for certain bills. We did spend a day on the phone calling all her service providers and arranging for the billing address to change to my address.

In the past few days I have become concerned because a bill has not come in this month for Direct Energy, her electric company. All the other bills have come in, but not one for the electric service. So today I decided to call Direct Energy and ask them when the bill is due, is it past due, and if I could please pay it if this was the case. I have to say that the customer service representative was extremely nice. However, I still do not know if the bill is due, past due, how much it is, etc.

It turns out that in order to get that information I need a four digit validation code. It doesn’t matter that I gave them the account number, my mother’s service address, my mailing address, etc. and the Direct Energy representative told me she had the account in front of her on the computer, without the four digit validation code, they can tell me nothing. They did state that they could take my credit card number and pay the bill; they just could not give me the amount of the bill. I politely told them that I was not giving them my credit card number so they could charge an unknown amount to my account.

The customer service rep did give me ideas on how I could figure out the code, such as my mother’s birthday (no); the last four digits of her SSN (no); my father’s birthday (no, but it has more than 4 numbers so we did try combinations); and several other numbers that might have meant something to my mother at the time she set up the account, including my birthday (no).

I have to admit that by this time I was in tears. I have no idea what number was used to set up the validation code for this account. My mother has no idea, and said she doubts she ever will. I cannot access the information without this validation code.

Direct Energy did say I could fax over a Power of Attorney, but my mother does not want them having that information. She says it is none of their business, and until she wants her legal documents released they will not be released. She is still in enough control that I do not use the Power of Attorney; I just pay the bills for her from her account.

I could understand the need for this code if I was trying to change or disconnect her service, but
I just want to pay the bill. I have never run across this situation before.

My mother said she knows how she wants to solve it – just change companies. I told her that she would still owe money to Direct Energy; it was just a secret as to how much.

I could just call and start guessing numbers, my son said there were only some 3,000 possible combinations, so that could take a while, and I doubt very much they would have the patience to put up with that, no matter how nice their customer service representatives are when you call.

I just want to pay the bill.

A Gift of Expression

My oldest will be 17 soon. He wanted a web hosting account as his birthday gift, so I gave it to him early so he could work on his website over his Spring Break. He finished it up last night with a few kinks to still be worked out (.fakeplacecomic.com) Now he wants people to read his website.

I am bad about trying to make his wishes my commands so I added a section to this blog called "Links I Like." Since I don't really have very many links that I just have to visit, it will probably be a feature that is seldom used.

Not Going to Analyze Today

I have been dreading this day for weeks. I did not know how I would get through it. This is the date of the day the doctor told me Raymond was dying. I fully expected this day to be a day of tears, depression, and out-of-control eating. In reality, I have had a good day. It has been full of laughs, good friends, my boys, a weight loss at TOPS weigh in, and dancing. Yes, I was dancing on my front sidewalk this afternoon as I grilled hot dogs for lunch.

At one point I stopped and said this is wrong, I shouldn’t be happy today, and, yet, I could not make myself feel sad. I started to beat myself up about dancing, but then I remembered how Raymond would talk to me about not dwelling on his death, but on the good times. I decided it was okay to be happy, dancing, and enjoying the day. It came to me that if I keep looking on the calendar and remembering dates when bad things have happened, or bad news was delivered, I might never have a good day again.

At this time last year I was sitting in an ICU room holding Raymond’s hand and fully expecting him to be dead by dawn. March 20, 2006 started out with me calling an ambulance and rushing to the ER hoping to get there soon after Raymond. Raymond could not breathe and he was tortured. As I was filling out the forms I heard the doctor ask Raymond if he wanted a ventilator. He said “yes.” I had to step into the room and tell them absolutely not, and then tell Raymond that it was not what he wanted. I asked that they give him morphine immediately. I told Raymond to stop fighting, and that it was okay to let go if he wanted to. He thanked me for telling him that and we cried. I was then called out of the room to talk to his doctor on the phone. She told me that this was “it” and that he probably wouldn’t make it through the night.

They stabilized Raymond and moved him to ICU. They told me that they would get us anything we needed. I started calling friends to make arrangements for the boys to come to say goodbye to their father. The hospital started making arrangements for me to meet with hospice. It was surreal. I was trying to make all these arrangements while not leaving Raymond’s side and still take in all that was happening to us. No one had told me this was coming. How did we end up in ICU with doctors telling me my husband only had hours to live?

The day wore on. The boys arrived at the hospital and amazing enough Raymond woke up and weakly spoke to them. He told them that he loved them and that he didn’t know what was going to happen. The boys left and I settled in for a long night.

I sat holding Raymond’s hand in this very uncomfortable chair scared and listening as he would stop breathing for what seemed like hours, but was probably only seconds. His chest rattled and I would wonder if that was the death rattle I had always heard about from friends and family of people that had died. I was so scared, and yet so not there in that moment.

Around 1 a.m. a wonderful nurse came in to see us. She told me that they would not be bothering us very much during the night because they really did not have a lot to do for Raymond. She then said I looked uncomfortable and that was not necessary. She completely moved Raymond’s bed around, found me a recliner, and made sure that I had pillows so that I could rest while holding his hand. She then came back in around 3 a.m. and said she had a few minutes to talk. She asked me if anyone had told me what to expect. I told her that I still wasn’t sure how we even got to the hospital. She proceeded to tell me about the dying process. She made me feel like I was more in control. Knowledge always helped me through Raymond’s illness. The unknown always freaked me out. I would be a nervous wreck waiting for test results, but when they would tell me that I’m going to have to stick my finger into an open wound for about 3 weeks until it healed and why I had to do that, I would be just fine.

Raymond made it through the night. By mid morning he was watching television and talking to visitors while I set up hospice. Our youngest called and wanted to come to leave school and come to the hospital, and the school was nice enough to bring him to me. Then it was Raymond and his youngest boy watching cartoons while I continued to call friends to help me set up the hospital bed, etc. At ten o’clock on the 21^st we were home and settling into life with hospice. The nurse finally left at 1 a.m. on the 22^nd and once again I was in a recliner holding Raymond’s hand because the nurse said three days at the most, and I was determined he would not die without me right there by his side.

Raymond did not die within 3 days, and we had many more good days together. So maybe my dancing today was all about celebrating the days we had together. Maybe I can stop looking at the calendar for days to cry.

Cooper Lake State Park, South Sulphur Unit

We spent the day hiking at Cooper Lake State Park, the South Sulphur Unit. The five mile loop trail was pleasant, and it wasn’t too hot. The trees are just starting to leaf out, and there were several redbuds in bloom.

We took a picnic. I can’t think of any picnic I have had in Texas that has been pleasant. Usually there is too much wind, or it is too hot, and then there was the time we were attacked by bees. Raymond and I used to laugh about it. I can’t begin to count the times we ended up eating in the car. Today it was windy. We had to hold everything down while we ate. Even with food on the plates they were blowing off the table. Plus it was cold. We had to wear our coats, and yet, when we crossed the road to hike it was really warm.

I was surprised that I got through the hike without crying. Usually when we do something that Raymond and I used to do, or something we did as a family I cry for at least a few minutes.

Raymond used to call me a cheap date because I liked to go hiking when we were in college and living where we did in Kentucky we were able to hike in the National Forest without driving very far. We continued to hike after we got married and moved to Texas and once we had kids we would take them hiking. I want to continue hiking with the boys so that maybe they will continue the tradition with their kids. I’m also going to tell them they shouldn’t marry anyone that won’t hike.

His Voice

Raymond's voice woke me up today. The same way he woke me up for years. "Honey."

I guess he thought I was sleeping too late. It was 8:03 a.m. and we have plans for today. I am usually up at 7:00, but I was really tired last night.

It was really nice to hear his voice again. I think it is the first time since he died. Sometimes my dad's voice will wake me up, or even my mom's voice will yell "CHERYL" sometimes in the middle of the night when I have forgotten something that needs to be taken care of, but I had not heard Raymond's.

I have had dreams about him where he was talking, but when he talked it was never his real voice. This morning it was the exact sound. It did not make me sad. Maybe that is why I hadn't heard it before, he did not want me to be sad when I heard his voice.

Raymond's "Honey" was the perfect way to wake up.

Maybe that means it will be a good day.

Whistling

I was whistling this morning. My head feels lighter.

I went to get my oldest today for Spring Break. We had a nice trip home, it takes about an hour, so we get to talk and catch up. We stopped for lunch and had a few laughs. He was asking why they call it happy hour when the restaurant advertised “Happy Hour All Day.” I told him it didn’t matter how long the restaurant hosted “Happy Hour,” most people were only happy for about an hour when drinking, and then they were past happy.

We also had a talk about “Classic Rock.” How it changes by the year. We think it will be funny with the dj says and here is a classic rock song by “Modest Mouse.” Of course there may not be such a thing as a dj by then.

I love it when we are all together. I love being a family. I think that is a rare thing these days. We went to see the youngest run the 800m at his track meet. When he saw his brother there he came running up and jumped into his arms. My heart swelled so big I thought it would explode.

Despite my happiness today, I still feel the heavy sadness that is in my heart about the loss of Christopher Michael Barrios, the 6 year old that was found dead after vanishing a week ago in Georgia. Children should not die like that. It will be a long time before that family can whistle again.

Pappy Hawk, I'm Glad

Pappy Hawk, I am glad you are out there. I have posted a couple of replies to your comments, but I don't know if you have seen them. I'm still figuring out how this blog site works. I just set it this morning so that anyone could comment. I would like to know how you found my blog, just because I am curious.

It doesn't bother me for people to read my thoughts. It really isn't any different than how I speak my mind to people in person. I hope that in some way my blog may help someone look at their own thoughts and feelings.

The only people I really don't want reading my blog are my boys. I am afraid they will get upset. This is the one place I can express my thoughts without worrying if I am scarring my boys for life. I talk to them about their father, and how much I miss him. I remind them of the good times, and some of the tough times, but I don't want to lay too much of my grief on them. They have their own grief to deal with. Besides, I'm sure I have scarred them in other ways, and will continue to do so.

I Picked up the Screwdrivers

I was happy today. I picked up the screwdrivers. I'm glad they are gone. I hope they are not replaced by something else, but if they are, I will deal with it in my own time frame.

WELCOME BACK HAPPY, and yes I am shouting

I woke up happy today. It has been a while since that has happened. It feels so great.

In the past when I would wake up happy I would be making a lot of noise by the time I hit the kitchen. When I wake up happy I like to hum, whistle, sing, bang pots and pans, or do anything else that makes noise. To me making noise when you are happy in the morning just lets the world know that you are happy to be alive.

My loudness in the morning was never a hit with Raymond. Raymond was not a morning person, and neither is my oldest. Raymond did not like noise in the morning, and neither does the oldest. Raymond would growl, ask me to be quiet, etc. and that was way before he became ill. I usually just ignored him, unless he was feeling bad, or wait until he left for work. When my oldest says something I just tell him he is not going to interfere with my morning happiness.

I have missed being loud in the morning. It seems that for the past year I have just been getting up and turning on GMA and watching it until it is over or until I go walk or run an errand. I probably have the television on loud because I am doing other things while watching, but it is not the loudness of happy.

I hope I wake up happy tomorrow. If I do, listen up. You might be able to hear me.

Letting Dropped Screwdrivers Lie

Not quite the same as letting “sleeping dogs lie,” but it is what I have been doing since Sunday, and today is Wednesday. There are four screwdrivers lying on my living room floor. I had them on a table Sunday morning while putting together a new shop vac. Then Sunday night I dropped them on the floor because I needed the table for something else, and there they lie.

Monday morning I actually stooped over to pick them up, but something else caught my eye. I didn’t look at them again until Tuesday night. They angered me. Why were they still there, reminding me of my laziness and/or apathy towards taking charge of my life? Why don’t I pick them up so I can stop feeling overwhelmed?

Anger woke me up at 5:22 this morning. I was angry because my house is in disarray and I am not doing anything to straighten it up.

I was also angry because my mom is getting new carpet and now I have to go up and help her box up everything in her bookcases, take off all her bedding, remove all her lamps, disconnect all electronics, etc. The apartment complex has sent a letter along with a long list of instructions of what needs to be done before they will replace the carpet. If you do not meet every requirement, you will not receive your carpet. She is so excited about getting new carpet, she feels as if it will change her life. I am angry because I know new carpet is not going to change my mother’s life. It will make her happy, but her mind will still fail her most days, and she will still need to walk with her walker.

I am angry because I feel overwhelmed dealing with my mom and being a single mother while still adjusting to being without Raymond. Why couldn’t mom have had a few more good years before starting to show signs of strokes, and alzheimer's? I am angry because I need time to adjust before dealing with my mom’s issues, and there is no time.

So here I am angry about screwdrivers on the floor, new carpet, and pretty much just about everything and I have to wonder why I am really angry. Am I really angry at these things or am I reaching another stage of grief and refusing to recognize it. A widow at church asks me every time she sees me “are you angry yet?” I always say “no.” But maybe I am. Maybe I am refusing to admit the anger because how could I possibly be angry at Raymond for dying.

I can’t be angry at Raymond for dying. He did everything he could to stay here with us. He suffered unbelievable pain. He suffered from exhaustion. He had trouble breathing. He had to intermittent cath and was on a bowel program. He had horrible bouts of phantom pain. His amputation was so high on his hip that it was impractical to even think about a prosthetic leg. He wasn’t able to walk and run with his boys, or ride a bike. He had to give up so much that he loved, so his suffering was more than physical it was mental too. So how can I be angry with him for dying? He hung on for longer than the doctors ever expected. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to leave us. I was the one that sat at his side and told him it was okay to let go, he didn’t have to suffer any more. I am the one that said I loved him and then said it was okay for him to die.

So maybe I am angry with myself. Maybe I’m angry because I told him it was okay to die. Maybe in my mind I think he would still be here with me if I hadn’t told him it was okay to let go. Rationally I know that his body had given out, even if his spirit had not, and that he was suffering only for us at the end, and to wish him still here is selfish, but the question is still there in my mind.

I am angry. I need to deal with the anger, but I have to find a way to deal with it where I don’t blame Raymond. As my friend said this morning, I am not angry with Raymond, I am angry with the situation, and that my dreams of a long life with the man I loved are gone. She is probably right. I always dreamed of at least 50 years, and when Raymond got sick I prayed for 25. We didn’t make it to 25. We almost made it to 24 ½, but we didn’t make it to 25.

So here it is Wednesday night. I was able to box up 2 bookcases at mom’s today, but there is still so much to do. I’m still angry, and I’m still letting dropped screwdrivers lie.

One Year Ago Today

One year ago today, March 11, 2006, we were packed and ready to leave for a week at Pine Meadow Cabins in Broken Bow Oklahoma for Spring Break. The doctors had said it would be good for us, and that when we came back from the trip they would re-examine Raymond's cancer treatments and see what else we might try, the drugs he had been taking were no longer controlling the tumors. In fact the week before Raymond had massive radiation therapy on his spine to try to relieve some of his pain.

When Raymond woke up on March 11, 2006 he had a fever. We canceled our plans, and spent Spring Break going back and forth to Dr. Juturi’s office at Texas Cancer Associates, seeing the PA’s and other doctors because she was out-of-town. Raymond went on oxygen and became progressively worse as the week went on. By Friday they were suggesting that he go into the hospital to be put on morphine. He refused. He really hated being in the hospital. I still had no idea that this was the beginning of the end.

With Dr. Juturi out-of-town we were dealing with a doctor that we had not seen before, I think she automatically assumed we knew how bad Raymond's prognosis was at this point. We didn't. Oh, sure, when Dr. Nichols gave Raymond his radiation the week before he had said he was surprised to see Raymond again. He thought he would have died months before. He told us that this time there was no doubt that Raymond would not live more than a few months. No one else had said that to us. They told us they were looking for alternate treatments. I chose not to believe Dr. Nichols, after all he had been wrong before. When Dr. Juturi told us there were no more options, and that Raymond only had a few months, then I would believe it, I wanted to hear it from Dr. Juturi. I had no idea that he would never see Dr. Juturi again.

It has been a hard day. My youngest and I went to Denton to see the 16 year old and take him to lunch. We went to Recycled Books and looked around. In the history section I saw a book that Raymond would have loved, and my knees buckled. Every time I go to the library or a bookstore, I see books Raymond would have enjoyed reading, and it just reminds me of how much he is missing.

Spring Break 1

My youngest has been on Spring Break this week. We did not go on a trip this time, but we have had a pretty good time. We spent a day at the big Half Price bookstore, hiked at White Rock Lake and Bethany Lakes, planted tomato plants, had some of his friends over to spend the night, and had a 2 day garage sale.

On Tuesday, March 6, 2007 my adopted family, and one of mom’s friends joined us at Saltgrass Steakhouse to celebrate mom’s 85^th birthday. We had a wonderful time, great food, and a fabulous waiter named Billy. Mom had a fantastic time. The boys and I gave her some cd’s and face cream. I was so glad we were able to enjoy the day with her.

One day left in this Spring Break. We will drive to Denton to have lunch with my oldest. He has quite a bit to celebrate. His team was second in the Science Bowl and will be going to Philadelphia in November. He also will be an executive for his school’s literary magazine next year.

I am certainly blessed when it comes to my children.

Things I Miss and the One Thing I Don't Miss

Raymond would have been 48 years old today.

Everyday I find something new I miss because he is gone.

I miss how he used to tell me I was beautiful, and how I knew he meant it.

I miss the morning back rub in the kitchen while I was making breakfast, because he knew that I get up with a back ache every morning.

I miss him being here as a soundboard as I try to decide how to handle problems with my mother, the kids, or the house.

I miss his smile.

I miss his humor.

I miss his intelligence.

I miss the fabulous conversations we used to have everyday.

The one thing I don’t miss is his love. It is always with me.

A Mind Question Answered? Or Maybe I’m Not Looking in the Right Place

I seem to always have mind questions. Random questions about life that pop up in my mind. Sometimes they just float right out and I never think of them again, other times they keep popping up until I either search out the answer, or I just cross them off as “what will be will be.”

Today I had a mind question answered through simple observation.

I treated myself to lunch at one of my favorite Mexican restaurants today. I had on a shirt I really like, pale blue with birdhouses. The first bite of salsa, a giant scoop I might add, slid right off the chip and straight onto my shirt. A huge red blob surrounded by pale blue. It upset me and while I tried not to let it ruin my lunch it did take some of the enjoyment away. As I was sitting there trying to treat the stain with some water, it came to me that I never see men walking around with big salsa stains on their shirts. Do they all carry those little stain pens? How annoying that men should get to be salsa stain free, and get to stand up in the bathroom while voiding their tea or tequila.

As I sat and stewed over this mind question, I started noticing the area I had been seated in. At first I was the only customer, after all it was 2:30 p.m., but then other lone diners started trickling in and they were all being seated in my area. As luck would have it a man was seated across the aisle from me, a perfect chance to see how a man avoids salsa stains. It didn’t take long for me to observe the answer. The salsa and chips were delivered and the man promptly picked up the salsa cup, held it right under his chin and started eating. He wasn’t actually shoveling the chips and salsa in, but he was close. Not exactly polite manners, but no stains appeared on his white t-shirt. As I looked around at the only other male diner in the restaurant I noticed he was eating the chips, but he wasn’t going any where near the salsa.

Since I cannot fathom ever picking up a salsa cup and placing it under my chin, I guess I will probably continue to have salsa stains at times. I have been considering a solution that a friend told me about with regards to dining out stains and one of her friends. It seems my friend’s friend that would carry a scarf (nylon/silk?) in her purse and would drape it around her neck and shoulders in such a way to cover her chest area when dining. All food spills would land on the scarf and not on her clothes. After the meal the scarf was folded up and put back into the purse for cleaning, or the next time, depending on whether or not there was a spill. I guess if you chose a neutral colored scarf it would seem to part of your attire. I love that idea, but I hate scarves, and I loathe laundry.

BTW: When I was discussing the men and no spills tonight with another friend, she said her husband spills salsa all the time. She said I needed to start looking at men’s bellies for stains instead of their chest areas. I guess I have more observations to make.