September Mourn (Part 2)

As my previous post shows, September started off craptacularly. Then, mid-September came. 

Our boy Jarvis was declining. It was heartbreaking. We made the decision it was time to let him go. So, September 18th we said our goodbyes with many, many, tears.

Jarvis was our best boy. So sweet, so loving. He came into our lives at the absolute best time. I was in desperate need of rescuing. Our IVF journey had ended in disappointment a couple months before he became available at the rescue we had known about through friends. I was working a job that I absolutely hated. While I was at work, Shawn went to the adoption event and Jarvis (then known as Wash) was there. Things clicked into place and my healing journey began.

It is strange to be Jarvis-less. I miss him. He was my baby boy and I was his mommy. 

September Mourn (Part One)

Photo by Sue Rosoff

Yes, I am aware that the song is "September Morn." But this isn't that kind of song...or, I guess, post.

On September 1st, 2025, my father-in-law, Jerry, died. This happened after a couple weeks in the hospital; in-home hospice care; and, finally, a week in a hospice facility. He had slipped into unconsciousness a few days before passing. 

So many wonderful things have been shared on social media and other internet sites about him. Many touching upon his career as a rodeo photographer. He was truly talented. His work was back when there were no digital cameras that could capture 1,000s of shots without fear of using up film on a bad one. He had a film camera with 36 shots to try not to waste. His camera wasn't an auto-load or auto-focus. Jerry was in the ring, right with the riders, fighters, clowns, and bulls and broncs. He managed to time things perfectly to get the shot lined up and in focus to become a legendary rodeo photographer.

All of that is incredible and fascinating to me. But, I will miss the personal life we had with him. I can still hear him say, "Oh, really?" with a tilt of his head when someone had knowledge about some thing or another to tell. Or, "Well, alright," said with a congratulatory smile when good news was shared. If you were enthusiastic about something, he was right there with you. He wanted to know all the things he could. Jerry was filled with curiosity. 

Mostly, though, I will miss the love he had for all of us, his family.

Thank you for being my dad

There is a podcast called The Golden Girls Deep Dive Podcast. I've started rewatching/watching The Golden Girls in order to listen to the podcast. I never saw the entire series, so at some point it will really be new to me.

My dad absolutely adored the show! I'm pretty sure Sophia may have been his favorite of the four women. Her unfiltered way of speaking was what he really enjoyed. It could be that he was living vicariously through her. He was too polite to really say things the way she did.

I'm grateful for finding out about the podcast. Watching the show and hearing the discussion between Patrick Hinds and Jennifer Simard, the co-hosts brings me to a happy place. It connects me to my dad in a different way. It may seem strange to say, but I think these kinds of things are a different side to mourning. 

Both the show and the podcast are great. 

★★★★☆ Would recommend both*

*I don't really give perfect scores for many things.

Our Father

This post's theme has been sitting in my drafts for months. 

I was thinking about my dad. It's not something unlike me to do. This whole grieving process is really something. You never know when a happy or sad memory will hit. It can be such a little thing that triggers it. Or, it's day on a calendar that marks some significant time in your life together. 

I lost my father. 

My four siblings lost their father.

We all lost the man who fathered the five of us.

However, when I think about it, we all lost a different dad. Each of us had our own relationships with him. Our memories and experiences differ. 

I read something one of my older brothers wrote about memories of things he got to do in his childhood with our father. It really struck me. It was sweet. It was his dad. They had their things. Things I didn't share in.

My childhood with my dad didn't involve days at the then Cleveland Indians' games. I went to evening Mass with my dad and would get a sucker from the corner drug store on our walk home. He would lie on the couch and watch public television. I would climb up and lie on his belly and watch Julia Child cook something neither of us would ever make. I would hang out with my dad on Saturday afternoons after my morning class at The Cleveland Museum of Natural History. Before heading home, we'd make a stop at Lakeview Cemetery to visit my grandparents' and other family members' graves. Then we'd stop at Hough Bakery where I would get a Lady Lock. 

When I was older, he gave me his copy of The Catcher in the Rye from his teenage years when it first was published. He said that he thought I'd like it. How did he know? Also, I became his date to see A Christmas Carol at Cleveland's Playhouse Square. We did this a few years in a row. Then we went on to get tickets for a partial season to see the world renowned Cleveland Orchestra at beautiful Severance Hall. We even got to experience the performance of my dreams when we had tickets for Carl Orff's Carmina Burana.  (My dad had the 1975 album that was a recording of the Cleveland Orchestra at Severance Hall in 1974. When I was little, the album art shocked and horrified me.)

Those experiences were with my dad.

Our little song

LITTLE HANDS
By Inland Sky

Little hands
The world is yours
Hold it close with open arms
Little feet
With miles ahead
Take it slow, see it all, take it in

I see me in you
You in me
I see me in you
You in me
I see it in your eyes
I see it in your eyes

Little heart
Dance it out
So the ins and outs won’t bring you down
Little dream
Grow up tall
With a little rain, a little sun, you’ll feel love

I see me in you
You in me
I see me in you
You in me
I see it in your eyes
I see it in your eyes

Little hands
The world is yours
Hold it close with open arms
Little hands

I came upon this song when making an Instagram post about the grandson. It got me in the feels and became our song to listen to when in the car.

My grandson is not biologically related to me. I do not have any biological children, as I've written about before on this blog. My daughter, Conner is Shawn's from a previous marriage. But, I'm still "GrandMeg" to this little boy and I never look at him as a "step."

There has always been a nature vs. nurture argument in human development. I recognize that the lyrics to this song may seem to be about biology - seeing oneself in a child your grandchild. However, as a hands-on grandparent who has been one of his primary caretakers while Conner works, I think I've had some role in nurturing this boy. I think I am able to see me in him and him in me. 

The boy with the little hands and little feet pictured above is having his 4th birthday today. How can that be? It seems like his birth to now went in a flash. At the same time, I don't really remember my pre-GrandMeg life. He has Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and has had some developmental delays along the way. But, this not-so-little guy has grown so much physically and mentally that he leaves all of those who love him in awe. It has not been an easy road for him and for us. It is our road, though, with many miles ahead.

I hold his little hand to keep him safe when crossing the street or walking through a store. I imagine one day he will hold my little hand to keep me safe when climbing a stair or getting out of a car. We will have a full circle moment when I will still see me in him and him in me. 

Sometimes you just want to smell your dad

In a million years, I bet you never thought you'd read the words of this entry's title. I know I never expected to think them.

It's been 3 years and 2 months since my dad died. It's a weird feeling of it being just yesterday and ages ago since it happened. The whole grief thing is a very wild ride. Recently, a lot of things have been popping up in my head, my heart, and my gut. I think of that as a grief trifecta, in a sense.

I've listened to the first season of the podcast All There Is with Anderson Cooper (I had to take a break, so I haven't started the next season). Anyway, I HIGHLY recommend it for anyone experiencing any phase/type of grief, or anyone trying to support someone through grief. It gives a glimpse of all the different types of grieving people experience. 

Because of the show, I am processing so many things. This will hopefully be my outlet as it once was for other phases of my life.

As for the title, the sense of smell hits directly to the parts of the brain related to memory and emotion. It is the quickest of the senses to stir up memories. So, lately, I've wanted to remember my dad and the after shave he was known for. 

My newly purchased office décor.

Sticks and skates and stats, oh my

It has been a hot minute. This isn’t how I thought I’d make a comeback, but it feels right. I came upon this Facebook post I wrote on Nov. 21, 2018:

Jarvis and I were out for a walk. We came upon a couple of hockey sticks leaning upon a fence. They had the tightly, twisted tape spiraling the stick's end and then the tape wrapping over that. And, BAM!, a flood of memories came rushing to mind.

There's the pot of boiling water for molding the rubber mouth guard. Also, heating the stick blade just enough to increase the curve without drawing the attention of the referee. And, the other kitchen memory was the game night dinner of pasta, I distinctly remember cavatelli. 

There were the changes from entirely metal blades, to black plastic, white plastic, and clear plastic coverings. Metal cage face masks moved aside for the super trendy Itech. Our local rink went from a chain link fence around it to plexiglass for a more modern feel.

My 3 brothers played. My sister did for a little bit, but I don't really remember that. There were lots of games and I spent lots of time in the rinks. A rink rat, you may say. I kept track of shots on goal for one team. Sometime worked the light behind the goal to indicate a goal was scored. I even worked in the scorer's box filling out the paperwork.

I haven't thought about this stuff in years. Possibly wouldn't have for years to come if it wasn't for seeing those sticks. They aren't important memories, but they make up part of my youth. 

No matter how small or mundane a memory may seem, don't take it for granted. Take it from me, you never know when you will lose even the tiniest trip down memory lane. Random things that come to mind may make you smile for just a little while and who can't use some more random smiles?

A year in the death of my father

Obviously I knew this day would come. The first anniversary of my dad's death. Technically, last year was the first Christmas without my dad, but he died on Dec. 23rd, so everything about that Christmas was weird, including COVID.

This year has been quite surreal. I thought the passage of time would help the grief, but it hasn't. What has surprised me is that it started to worsen each month. I have moments where I have to actually tell myself, "My dad is dead". In a dream I had, he was so real, so present that I, again, had to tell myself that he had died.

This year I've handled the holidays in a way that would disappoint someone as Mr. Christmas as my dad. I know the way to really honor him would be to get the tree up and have as many lights as possible, and then some, strung upon it. But, I'm not strong enough for that right now. Christmas music is more like a funeral dirge than anything jolly. Mustering the creativity and energy for creating another Jarvis themed Christmas card seemed an epic feat. Shawn and I aren't exchanging gifts, but have talked about getting a new tv as a joint gift. I pulled my holiday themed attire out of storage, but haven't worn much of it. No cookie baking has been done, even the simplest of recipes.

In a typical year, the Friday after Thanksgiving is the kick-off. We would probably have our cards ready to go. The tree would be up. Christmas tunes playing in the car instead of podcasts. The first t-shirt with a holiday theme would be worn along with some socks. Then, as the days move on, I would shop and I would bake. Then there would be wrapping and shipping. All of those things that my dad loved about the holidays.

Today, I woke up not wanting to think about what this day is. I didn't want to remember waking up to my mom's voice telling me he was gone. But, I did. I never read last year's Christmas letter that he managed to send. Today, I took a stack of letters from years past and read them. They represented history, but also showed his decline through the years. After I finished that stack I went to my desk and took out last year's letter. It was so very brief, only one sheet of paper front and back. I didn't cry. I really thought I would cry, especially at the end.

My dad had done a long stint in the hospital and rehab which ended with him coming home the day before Thanksgiving. When he came home he worked on cards and the letter. On December 21st he was back in the hospital and died on the 23rd. I give this little timeline because of something he wrote in the letter. His letter always included an in memoriam section to list those who had passed throughout the year. He began the in memoriam with, "While John is blessed to be back at home and doing better, we recognize and remember fondly those we have lost this past year..." Little did he know that he would become a part of that list a short time after writing those words.

This didn't really come out right

I don't know what has happened to me when it comes time to blog. There is plenty going on in my head - too much, really.

My current state is extra hot mess. I am physically and mentally all over the place. So many things are breaking me down. 

Recently, my dad's death has been hitting me hard. It's been harder than it was in the beginning months. It's just this weird feeling that it's not real. I think about it and wonder what will make it seem real? Will it be the first time I go to Cleveland since his death? Will it be seeing his grave in person?

The world and all it's changes get me to stay in bed. COVID, Texas laws, Afghanistan are all more than I can think about right now. I get choked up over the news. 

Work has me stressed out. There are changes that I don't know how to handle. My anxiety at the idea of certain tasks is manifesting itself physically. I'm not cut out for certain things. I'm not a people person.

I should be able to get my shit together. I used to accomplish things with less anxiety issues. Now, I tend to isolate and it's not because of COVID. Nausea is a constant and diarrhea is regular (so far no vomiting). Headaches and muscle aches are common. I'm quite tired. It's all part of the mess.

I have an appointment coming up with my shrink. I'm not all that optimistic right now. There are probably going to be med changes and that is a whole other thing I don't look forward to.

I'm just so tired.    

Brown bag lunch

I'm not sure where I heard it or read it, but there was this tip that you could use the same mask throughout the day if you put it in a brown paper bag between use. Who knows? It may very well have been bullshit, but, nevertheless, we have a large number of brown paper bags.

Yesterday I packed my lunch in one of them. 

Before he retired, my dad's entire work life included a brown bag lunch. A simple meal in a simple sack. He would reuse the same brown bag for days in a row. The bag would make its way from crisp to soft, wrinkled, and then it would tear. It would get changed out at that point and the whole routine would start again. 

We thought it was a silly, quirky thing, but it was my dad. And now, I have something else around the house to make me think of him. 

He was a good man, a really good, good man

When my dad died, I received texts and messages via social media. Since my mom isn't on social media, a copied everything, including some messages on my oldest brother's Facebook page into an email for her to read. I thought about it the other day and decided to share them all here. I'm not using the first and last names and all are as they were written.

My smile memory is of your father's laugh. He had the best laugh. And when he told a story, he was so intense, wanting to get all the details right. He was such a kind man. - Marie G

Yesterday?! Meg I am so sorry. I knew you had been on my mind for a reason. Your dad and mom are special to me, he would always stop by the children's desk if he was in the library for FoEPL business. Of course, you know that I saw your mom at storytime. I really a go m truly sorry, but grateful that I can say that I knew him. If any of you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. - Cherese

Your Dad and my mom had birthdays a couple weeks apart. He would always call her to say say happy birthday old lady. We always got a chuckle out of that. - Becky A

Prayers to you and your family. Your dad was one of the kindest person

I’ve ever met. He was a beautiful person and will be looking down from

heaven at his family. His kind words and ways will be missed. - Lisa H

I’m so sorry, your dad was such a great man and kind person. I’m keeping you all in my prayers - Kristen B G

He was such a very sweet man. I am so sorry for your family - Sheila F

I am very sorry Chris to hear thoughts and prayers to you and your family he was a great man. - Bill D

My condolences on this loss of this gentle caring man. Peace - Nicholas A

My condolences. A great man in every way - George B

Chris, so sorry for the loss of your father. He was such a nice person and always had a great attitude about life. - Ted K

So sorry for your loss. He was a kind wonderful man and wonderful example to you kids. May he Rest In Peace. - Peggy O-C

Very sad news. The original south lake sh group is about gone now. Your parents were so good to my mom. There is a place for him. - Mickey F

Always so awesome to our clan in the days, patience- Ken R

Chris I'm sorry to hear that. Kindest man I've ever known. Bar none. Can I do anything? - Emmett

Chris, I am so sorry about your loss. What a wonderful man and a friend to the entire F family who kept a keen eye over Nana. We will always be grateful. Please share the sentiments with your mother and siblings...I know from experience it is hard to lose a loved one so close to Christmas. Today's weather should provide some peace and quiet to reflect on your beloved father. - John F

He was the family historian and will be missed - Dennis D

He was a very kind man and he will be missed. - JoElle

He always treated us all as family. He will be missed by all. - Les K

Not a specific memory but his smile could always be depended on and it would always make me smile in return. - John E

Oh Meg, I am so so sorry for your loss. I always enjoyed your stories about your dad. Sitting with you in your grief. 💓  - Mary Beth W

I'm so very sorry for your loss. I enjoyed hearing about him through your anecdotes. - Cori

 

Oh Meg!! I’m an so very sorry. Your dad was a special guy 💓️💓💓 - Laura G P

I will miss his Christmas letters. A great family history. A great tribute to my cousin John. I have fond memories of visiting their house with book lined walls! He will be missed. - Beverly 

Oh Meg, that's terrible news. I'm so sorry. My condolences to you and to all of your family. You've told so many stories about your dad that I felt like I know him without ever having met him, and that sounds like a life well lived.

I'm so sorry for today. Lots of love from over here. ♡ - Cynthia R

May you and your family find peace in his peace. We are going to drive around and look at lights tonight - I’ll be thinking about your Dad as we do. - Mary Frances 

So so sorry Meg..John has such wonderful stories and memories he shared. - Dawn A-H

Sorry for your loss, Meg. We got the news this morning. He was so welcoming when I entered the family. If you need anything, please reach out. - Alyssa H

Meg, I’m so sorry for you and your family’s loss. I always looked forward to you sharing stories about him and I know he will be missed! - Chris B

Oh Meg, I am so sorry to hear this. Your stories of him were heartwarming. Hoping all of your memories bring you peace. - Katie P

I am so very sorry for your loss, Meg. Thank you for sharing so many stories about your Dad over the years, especially loved the card and letter stories. He really did embody all the wonderful qualities of a loving father🥰May he live on in your heart with all your splendid memories. - Jenne C C

I am so so sorry to hear this, your dad was awesome and I always loved running into him and chatting with him. - Monica F M

Meg, so sorry to hear this! You have expressed so much love for your dad through posts and blogs that I almost feel like I know him 😔 Hoping for some peace for you and your family. Sending you 💓️💓 - Alaina P

 

I am so, so sorry for your loss Meg. He was such a kind soul, and I will miss getting his cards and letters this time of year 💓️. -Kyra H

So sorry he was a true gentleman. Now he and Nana can have a good chat. God bless his soul. - Mel F

Meg our heartfelt sympathies go out to you and the entire family. Your dad was one of a kind! we will all miss the Christmas letter. 😉  May you find some peace knowing he is out of pain. - Kathy S

I'm so sorry for the loss of your dad. I loved reading your posts about him and how he impacted those around him. Wishing you, your mom, and family comfort and peace, especially when you recall precious memories of him. - Michelle F

So, so sorry! Your dad was definitely one of a kind. He will be greatly missed. 😘  - Korie R

I am so sorry to hear this. Your dad was such a kind and funny man. I will never forget all the conversations at Perkins and elsewhere. RIP♥️ - Brigid C

My heart is broken for you and your family....Your dad was an incredible guy. I loved talking with him and making him laugh. He was an absolute joy to be around. I'll certainly miss that Christmas letter 💓 - Linda R-F

He was one of the good ones. So sorry to hear and all my love and condolences to you and the family. - John E

Your dad was one of the good ones. Always had a smile and a laugh. I will miss his Christmas card but will always think of him this time of year. Thinking of you, your Mom, and your family in this next step. - Celina H M

So sorry to see this. Such a kind soul! Prayers to you and your family! - Beth

Very sorry for your loss, Meg. Your dad was a wonderful man. Keeping you and your family in my thoughts and prayers. - Brian Q

Meg, I just heard about Dad. Mary Beth Q just called me. May God bless Mom, you and all the family with great strength and love at this time. It's surreal that he passed right before Christmas knowing how much he loved this season. I always looked forward to receiving his Christmas card and letter about the family each year. May he take part in a celestial Christmas this year. Sending hugs, Meg. 🙏💙🙏  - Bonnie M

I’m so unbelievably sorry your heart is hurting. I know through your stories what an incredible man, husband, father, grandpa, and friend he was, and the void he will leave behind. - Shelly M

I'm so sorry for your loss, Meg! Your dad was a wonderful man. 💓️ - Karen D

Denise: How blessed your family is to have had such a great father, husband and grandpa. And how he has even touched extended families lives. 💕what a wonderful life had.

Me: Denise I’m so glad you were one of the caring faces he got to see soon before he died.

Denise: aww thank you, he was just as I will remember. Sitting in his chair still cutting coupons in the hospital. Only thing missing would be your mom getting ready to prepare dinner and general hospital on the TV in their tiny kitchen. I use to look forward to going there after school

Also Denise: Thinking of all you guys, your parents show the strength of a couple being married so so long, such good people hugs.

Know that I am thinking about you and your family during this difficult time. I know it has been a long time since I’ve seen everyone but your family holds a special place In my heart from our days at Holy Cross and Perkins. Your parents are wonderful people and your father will be missed by many. I hope you are hanging in there and remember to take help from others when they offer you support. Something I have learned to do this year that does not come easily. Let people be there for you just as you would be there for others. - Ann C D

Meg, I’m so incredibly sorry. I’ve been so selfishly wrapped up in our own family problems, I didn’t see this until now. You are all in my thoughts. We’ll forever be indebted to your parents for helping us make Eddie the articulate, curious guy he still is today. - Stephanie M L

I don’t really have specific memories but omg when your dad thought something was funny, I had to laugh. Sometimes I had NO CLUE what he was talking about but, when he laughed, I laughed. He was so fun.

To get your dads Christmas card on the day he passed gave me a feeling that I have never felt before. He was a great man who built a wonderful family. I am thankful to have been a part of his Christmas card list. I am sad and sorry that he is gone, hugs for you all. - Kate E

How did I used to write here?

I've been in this place for months now. There are many things to write about, but I can't quite manage to do it. It should be so simple. It's my life, I know the subject matter best, or do I? I don't know. I wonder.

I suppose life is filled with ripping the Band-Aid off moments, and this is kind of like one more.

My dad.

My dad is.

My dad is dead.

The last time I saw my dad, in real life, not virtually, was October 16th, 2019 when I was leaving to come home to Colorado after 2 months with him in Ohio. He had been quite sick. I already had a trip planned and just extended it. 

The last time I saw him in a virtual capacity was December 22nd, 2020. He was in the hospital and his nurse Face Time'd Shawn and me. It was the end and the nurse gave us a chance to say goodbye. Early the next morning, my mom called to tell me he was gone. He died on Christmas Eve Eve. It was a weird kind of thing to have him die during his favorite time of year. Christmas had always been his thing and I always thought about that every year, now it just comes to mind in a different way.

I can't get all the words out. I'm far from getting all the tears out. I don't know that I ever will. 

In a World

You know when you see a movie trailer and it starts with, "In a World" being said in a dramatic voice?  It's not usually the kind of thing said before a rom-com. So, if 2020 was to be a movie trailer, it would most certainly start with "In a World."

In a world where a president fails his country by not addressing the heads up on a virus, over 180,000 people have died.   

In a world where a president contradicts all the safety precautions to help lower the spread of the virus, six million cases have been reported.

In a world where a president "doesn't see" a report that Russia was paying bounties to the Taliban to kill American troops, American troops were killed.

In a world where a president says there were good people on both sides of an alt-right rally, the floodgates of racism burst open.

In a world where cops and racist civilians are killing POC, Black Lives Matter.

In a world of all these things, stress, anxiety, and depression can really take over. It seems hopeless.

But, in a world where a stepdaughter is pregnant, a baby boy will be born, and hope and love will rise.

I'm bad, but not in the good "Bad" way

I'd say it's been a month of dealing with the mess of mental illness, probably longer. I've pulled back, retreated, isolated and not for COVID. The world is, in fact, too much and I can't tell you how this ride is going to go. This is going to be a trip in my head as it has been recently.

I'm afraid, like seriously afraid of 45 winning in November. I'm not thrilled at the idea of Biden, but I would say, "President Biden" with ease. I don't think I've actually ever referred to 45 as "President". I'm concerned the Bernie people will do a protest "vote" by not showing up and, therefore, voting in the incumbent. 

I'm surprisingly not as scared about COVID as people think or expect. I'm just frustrated that there are people who aren't taking it seriously. I'm also annoyed that wearing a mask is such an issue. Just wear it. Protect people, loved ones or not.

So, Shawn kind of put a suggested ban on me watching MSNBC. 

That stuff is so minor compared to how really bad things are.

I don't want to leave the house. Not because of COVID. I don't want to go out except when I walk Jarvis. I have to really work on convincing myself to do it. I put everything off. I need Shawn to be with me. I suck it up for work...that's because Shawn and Jarvis coming to work with me didn’t work out well. We thought Jarvis would love to have a yard to play in, but he knew I was in the building and that didn't work for him. Shawn takes me to the bank. He goes grocery shopping with me. The anxiety is so much. We shopped at Costco the other day and I cried in the Fish Oil section because none of the brands had the right potency. And, if I bought enough to make up the difference, the cost would be too much.

I get my shit kind of together to do work, respond to work emails, update our account on a pet search site. Otherwise, I don't communicate much with anyone but Shawn, Jarvis, my mom, and my BFF - Shawn and Jarvis being the most. I just can't right now with so many things.

My bedtimes vary. Super early some days and really late on others. I sleep late and stay in bed a lot.

The anxiety is terrible and the meds aren't working. A change to the meds is being worked on. As many who deal with mental illness know, med changes are tough. They can take a long time to start working. It can be a couple months. I'm not sure I have that in me right now. 

Shawn is amazing. He is super talented and I'm not going to deny that I'm jealous - or envious - whichever sounds less like an asshole. He just has so much going on in his life and that's not including taking care of me.

I used to be proud of myself, I think. Maybe I just used to be less hateful toward myself. I had a real, significant income that helped us out. I mean, I was making double payments on our fertility treatments to get them paid down as quickly as possible. Now, I can't imagine what I could possibly do. 

I cry. I cry about all the things. I can't tell you what it will be about. I mean, I cried in public about Fish Oil. I cry at TV shows and movies. I cry taking a bite of dinner. I cry in bed while using my coloring app on my phone. I cry when I fail at something, like spilling something. I cry at moments of pride about Conner, so that's kind of an okay thing to choke up over. I cry.

Lately, I've been thinking that ECT fucked me up. That it made me worse. My anxiety leads to vomiting and diarrhea (TMI?). I don't remember that before. But, I don't remember a lot of things from that time. 

My avoiding messages and not being active on social media is not you, it's me. It is really me. I can't handle myself right now and so I can't handle things and people outside of myself. I'm sorry if that is hurtful, but truly, I mean it, it's not you, it's me.

I don't know when I'll be back. There is so much more to everything in my head than what I've written here. Too much, really. I need to figure things out.

Connect the dots

This is going to start off a little weird, like not 100% fitting to the post as a whole.

When I was little, like early elementary school, I was pretty familiar with funerals. My dad's aunts and uncles had started to die. I remember his grandmother dying. She lived in a nursing home a good drive away. She had broken her hip and then developed pneumonia. So, I came to associate breaking a hip with dying. I didn't really understand the pneumonia part, but in my mind, the two were connected.

As I grew up, I discovered that a broken hip doesn't cause pneumonia. I started to understand the connection of the broken hip to pneumonia was only that being bed ridden caused fluid to build up. Being as old as my great-grandmother was, all of these things created the perfect storm for her to be unable to combat the pneumonia.

Pneumonia.

Come the late 80s. The AIDs epidemic was making its way through the world. Our little corner of the world was not safe. My dad's cousin was infected, full blown AIDs, not HIV. Then, that word, pneumonia, crept into our vocabulary again. When he passed away, AIDs, itself, was not listed as the cause of death. I learned that his death was from pneumonia. There was no broken hip involved in this case. There was AIDs and the suppression of his immune system. So, it was death by pneumonia due to the immunosuppression from AIDs.

COVID-19

Here we are, 2020 and a pandemic. I know pneumonia has played a part in this. I have a friend who was infected and ended up with pneumonia. She has recovered, thankfully. But, is it really surprising to have pneumonia rear it's ugly face?

I'm going to stop with the pneumonia talk, but not with the cause and effect piece of how health conditions can connect.

Governor Cuomo of New York recently adjusted the number of COVID related deaths causing an increase to the statistics. And.......then comes 45 and his COVID briefing. He gets in his expert over all the things mode and criticizes Cuomo. He implied it was an attempt to make things look worse than they are. Well Dr. 45, MD, shut the fuck up. A patient with COVID can have other health problems arise. So, yes, it is possible to have a fatal heart attack due to COVID. Let real doctors, not lackeys, but real doctors who are fighting along with all other types of medical personnel to educate the masses.

We live in the WTF-iest of times.

PANDEMIC. A board game. A very difficult board game involving viruses; infections; outbreaks; and epidemics. It can make you hate the colors red, yellow, blue, and black. We most definitely lost more games than we won. We failed the world...on a game board. At least for now, it was only on a game board.

COVID-19 has hit the world and hit it hard. It is horrifying. Watching the impact on Italy has been absolutely devastating. Then to see the U.S. in the line of fire from this virus has become heartbreaking. Part of the heartbreak comes from the person in the White House doing the absolute opposite of instilling confidence.

It is crazy the varying degrees of this. I have a friend who was infected. She was on oxygen, but didn't need to be hospitalized. She's on her road to recovery. Then, I have another friend who posted on Facebook a request for her mother-in-law who was diagnosed. The next day, she posted that her mother-in-law had died. Two extremes. That is how fucked up all of this is.

Things this has me thinking about are overwhelming at times. Like, my dad. He's 83 and not a healthy guy, see my posts back in August-October of last year. For him, there would not be a mild case. So I have the thoughts of him dying. I have those thoughts in general, but because of this, I think about it more. Things like, if he were to be infected and pass away, would I be able to travel. Probably not. It's likely that a funeral wouldn't be able to be held. I wouldn't be missing that. But, the idea of this happening and not being able to get to my mom is more than I can handle at times.

It's a strange time of heartbreaking and heartwarming moments existing along side of each other. Videos from medical personnel sharing the horror of their experiences just pains me to watch. The idea that you can drop your loved one at the hospital, not be able to go in with them, and then have them admitted, and possibly even die without you seeing them since the drop-off. Addicts relapsing and, if they do go for help, they, too, are alone. It's a terrible time for loneliness.

But, then there are the heartwarming things. People cheering and making signs outside of medical facilities. In NYC, every evening at 7 pm, the time for shift change at hospitals, New Yorkers cheer and clap and honk and make noise whatever other way they can to show appreciation. Watching the creative ways families and friends find to "be" with each other are great. Zoom probably never expected to have such a boon in business. Videos of families doing things like song and dance performances are blowing up on the internet. Various musicians are doing live mini-concerts on Facebook and/or Instagram Live. Necessity has been said to be the mother of invention many times before and I believe she is proving to be the mother of creativity.

So, stay home. Stay safe. Stay healthy. Save lives.

The 7 year bitch

Every year, around this time, is a bitch. It’s not because of my birthday. I don’t meet that age denying female stereotype. I’m more of a “meh” person about my age. This is a deeply painful time of year.

If you’ve kept up with this blog you should already know about my fertility issues. Seven years ago we went through around of IVF. We only got to do one round. My eggs were few and quality was low. The embryos were implanted just around my 38th birthday (just got off the phone with my dad and he mentioned he was 38 when I was born. Just thought it was interesting) and the implantation failed. I saw the blood and knew it was over. Those few days were terrible and are forever connected to my birthday.

This year, I’m ringing in 45 with a stressful time at work and the COVID-19 pandemic. No birthday date night with dinner at a restaurant of my choosing. I should, however, mention the positive side of things with Facebook birthday well wishes.

Oh, my boys

Me: Dammit, Jarvis, don't eat all that goose poop!

Jarvis: Oh, I'm sorry... did you want some?

UPDATE - Another walk

Before the walk:

Jarvis: Okay, let's go! Let's get out the door! Let's head out! Like now, like right now...

Me: Hang on, Buddy, I have to put on my socks.

Jarvis: Okay, your socks are on, now let's go!

Me: I just have to get my shoes on...

Jarvis: Great, got the shoes, now it's Walk Time!

Me: Just a second, I need my jacket...

Jarvis: Oh, for fuck's sake!

During the walk:

Jarvis: How are humans the dominant species on the planet?

Me: What do you mean?

Jarvis: "Oh, I'm a human, I can't go outside without shoes, or I'll hurt my dainty pink feet! It's too cold to go out without a jacket! My human skin is so sensitive!" What's all that blubber for if not insulation?

Me: It's not "blubber"... It's just, you know... cookies are delicious...

After the walk:

Jarvis: Hey, where's my treat?

Me: Since you're so advanced, I figured you could get it yourself.

Jarvis: What?

Me: Yeah, just stand erect and use your opposable thumbs to open the freezer. Oh, wait...

Jarvis: That's cold, man. That's real cold.

Our protector

The landscaping crew was out shoveling and salting. One of the crew was shoveling our walk, all the way to the door. Jarvis was at the window next to the door without uttering a peep.

Me: Um, not a sound for that person approaching?

Jarvis: Meh.

Me: Meh?! What do you mean, "meh"? You lose your shit when someone parks out front and shuts their door.

Jarvis: Well they may be dangerous.

Me: Oh. My. God. They just get out of their car and don't come near the door. This person is at our door with a shovel!

Jarvis: But, I don't need to bark.

Me: Quite frankly, you almost never need to bark at anyone.

Jarvis: This person is good.

Me: What do you mean?

Jarvis: This person is working with me, not against me for your safety.

Me: Thanks for looking out for us, buddy.

Two months of intense caring

Two. Months.

August 16th - September 16th

I start this with August 16th when my dad was actually admitted to the hospital on August 13th. I flew in from my home in Colorado, leaving Shawn and Jarvis to hold down the proverbial fort. From the 13th through the 19th, my dad was on a medical floor. That's were he was being treated for all the things jacked up by his liver. Then, the 19th through the 28th he moved to a skilled nursing floor (SNF) for inpatient physical and occupational therapies. On the 27th he went to ICU in a desperate attempt to get him to the Main Campus of the Cleveland Clinic where they had a unit that would focus on his liver which wasn't available at the Euclid Hospital satellite branch of the Cleveland Clinic. That attempt didn't work, so he was transferred back to the medical floor. Then, on the 31st, he made his way to Main Campus. His time at Main was August 31st through September 5th. And, finally, back to Euclid's SNF and lots of PT and OT from September 5th through September 16th. Then home.

So, month 1 was all about the hospital stays. He was having procedures. We were talking to doctors and NPs and nurses and aides and physical therapists and occupational therapist throughout all of that time. I was learning things I had known nothing about, such as, the body has ammonia in it. For real, ammonia. The liver is supposed to flush it out and when it doesn't it goes to the brain and turns you into a different person. My mom and I spent most of our time with him. We worked on crossword puzzles and watched TV as he dosed in and out. I would help him with his meals because opening his drinks and other sealed items took fine motor skills he didn't quite have. On SNF, he could wear regular clothes to go to therapy. In the evening, he would go back to his gown and, at times, I would help him change. One day, I noticed his legs were dripping fluid. That was something I could have done without seeing. Some days I had to brace myself for visitors who were not my cup of tea. That's a tough one. There was one afternoon when my mom and I had gone to get something to eat. My mom decided to call the priest from their parish to have him visit, maybe bring communion, too, I can't remember. She found out that he had just been up their. When we got back, my dad was in a terrible state, almost completely reclined. His respiratory therapist came in for his afternoon treatment and he shooed her away. He asked me to come over and I bent over to hear him. He whispered to me that he didn't think he was going to make, that he was going to die. Believe me, this is not anything you want to hear from anyone you love's mouth. We heard from others that sometimes, when a minister of some sort visits and bestows a blessing, the patient can take a turn because they see that experience as a sign of impending death. Thankfully, he perked up. He was quite an ornery patient and I often had to explain things to him. Sometimes, he would understand, and other times he would continue to be difficult.

September 16th came, and he was discharged.

September 16th - October 16th

This begins my last month. This period of time may have been worse. There was no aide to ring for to go to the bathroom. No nurses to be the bad guys dispensing his meds, especially his lactulose. It was the medication to help his ammonia levels lower. It's a disgusting, orange, syrup about which he would grumble when having to take it. My mom was trying to come up with meals that would meet up to the special dietary restrictions he needed to maintain outside of the hospital. I was working on a family calendar for people to help my mom with getting my dad to appointments. I was also sending emails to my siblings to summarize the hospital discharge notes and any other information from other appointments. One thing I never saw myself as having to do is empty out a portable urinal, but there I was. Some days were shitty, literally and figuratively. Lying in my parents' regular bed was not working out well, so he would sleep in his recliner. It was the kind that can lift you into standing and can put you horizontal. Some nights, I'd hear him in the middle of the night. There were different things he was moaning about. One night, he needed more water. Another time, it was to tell me the newspapers on the floor next to him were ready to be recycled. He was having some hip pain and pain from a sore one night. He couldn't really roll to his side. So, I got some pillows to prop him onto his side. I had to push him and hold him on his side while trying to position the pillows. Thankfully, it helped. There was also a time where he was afraid he missed his friend's birthday. I looked through the pile of items to be mailed and told him there wasn't a card so it must have been mailed already. He then cried because it was also his favorite aunt's birthday. He went back to being upset about his friend. He talked about his friend not knowing about all that had been going on. He mentioned that he always calls his friend. So, I told him he could call his friend the next day. I wrote a note, "Call Joel for his birthday" with his phone number in large digits. I put it on the table next to the chair. Then, I can't remember how, but I found out he that it was March. I told him he could still call Joel, but I just crossed off the birthday part of the note. It was weird how the lucid moments would happen, often when visitors were around. My mom and I bore the brunt of his personality switch. We did have some good moments watching the Democratic candidates' town halls and debates.

October 16th, the day I was leaving, it was like my dad had rebuilt all his strength and channeled it into the grip he had on my arm as I was heading out the door.

Two. Weeks.

October 16th - October 29th (technically 13 days, but still)

I got back to Denver and was so lucky to be greeted by Shawn almost as enthusiastically as by Jarvis (😉) It was nice to get a message of appreciation for all that I had done over my 2 month stay. I wish I had more of that. That probably sounds selfish and needy, but so much happened in the time in Cleveland and I was exhausted. I have felt underappreciated. I don't know what to do with myself now that I'm back. My days were filled with so much and here I am doing next to nothing. I didn't capture all of the things from Cleveland in this post. The toll some people and some things took on me is significant and probably best unsaid. My mental health has taken a hit. In the end, I did my best and now that I'm back home I'll have to figure out the rest.