Update on My Son

I just figured I'd post a quick update on my son's post surgical status. Since it's been almost a month already, and I haven't been making my phone calls regularly, I just wanted to answer your emails regarding his recovery.


We brought him home on Saturday night 11/24/07. He spiked another temp while he was in the hospital, but we took him home anyway. During this time he's been on a LOT of pain medicine. He is taking Percocet, Ultram, and Skelaxin. Keep in mind, he weighs 112 pounds soaking wet with all of his clothes on. He's tall and thin, like my husband. I figured he'd just sleep in some kind of hibernative state for a few weeks with all of that stuff going through him. Wrong!

Amazing, the metabolism of a teenager. What is also amazing is the amount of pain back surgery entails. I can only imagine what Pam is going through right now. If you are reading, Pam, my heart and prayers go out to you. Monday, 12/17 was his first day without pain meds. He's started with his tutor two hours a day and seems to be on the mend.

Update: 2/4/08 - He's back in school, limited gym. Doing great! Thanks for keeping us in your prayers the past few months.

A Human Being, Or a Human Doing? Or Both?

This is going to be a strange post. Sometimes I think all of them are. I don't even know if anyone can relate to anything I write.



A couple of weeks ago, I happened upon a very good quote from some recovery material. It said to "be a human being rather than a human doing." I liked it. It was catchy and very easy for my simple mind to remember. So I began the process of thinking about this and trying to live this new found wisdom.



Unfortunately, it took me down a lazy river named "sloth." It wasn't the quote itself, but rather my interpretation of it. I guess I extended the metaphor a little too far and took it to mean "a human breathing," and decided to do just that, merely exist. As a result, nothing got done that week. Now I am also guilty of being a "human doing" when things get me upset, but that is another post entirely.



After several days of this slacking, I became very irritable. Things weren't magically getting cleaned or paid the way I expected they would if I just existed, and stopped all that "doing" nonsense. I found myself secretly thanking God for things like paper plates when saying Grace.



This wasn't working for me at all. I couldn't even remember if my daughter had gone potty that morning, but all sorts of crazy clutter from my past was right there in the front of my mind. Like that song, "Up, Up With People," from something like 1976. Every word, too, not just one verse. And how I got in trouble in third grade for the escape of the class gerbils, even though David R left the lid off of the cage. I was in this trance from my past. Not a good place for me, even though the song was okay, and brought up good memories of class snack and those half pint chocolate milks that cost only two cents.



Fast forward to my hair appointment (which lasted four hours). I started and finished Dr. Weiss' book, Get A Grip. I'm happy to say I have. I don't know what I was thinking, but reading the book snapped me out of it. I know you are all wondering what the heck my hair looked like for someone to fuss with it for four hours. Trust me when I say, it was worth every minute.



I have to remember to balance what I want to do, and what I need to do. This is definitely a place where I struggle. It goes like this...I do things all week long for the family, friends, etc., forget all about the self care, get resentful, go on strike and do nothing, throw a pity party and overindulge in food.

I think it all started with my son's recovery from surgery (no blame, just info). Although it has been a busy time, I haven't made much time to do anything to take care of myself. It's been pretty much all about him for the past three weeks, understandably so. But I made no moves to ask for help from family members that could have easily given me an hour or two. Ah, foolish pride!



I finally think I get it!!! The self care is so important!!! Repeat after me...I will not forget my self care. I will not forget my self care. I will not forget my self care....

Caution: Watch Where You Step

Oooohhhh...I am putting it all together in my mind right now and I have no idea where the recovery stuff I learned is in all of this nonsense. Where did it go? Which exercise was it again? I do not remember. Where to begin?

I'll start somewhere in between and let you try to sort it out. If you don't understand, don't worry, neither do I. I'm just a ranting and raving fool at the moment.

As some of you may know, my husband has been actively seeking different employment, partly because he detests his boss, partly because he feels that his workplace is full of bad choices he made, not the least of which was another woman he had an inappropriate relationship with. He has worked there for sixteen years, but I am in full support of him finding something else. I really just want him to be happy.

Today, he got a very good offer from a much smaller company that is just starting to expand and needs a few more people to pick up some of the increased volume. It sounds amazing and he has done nothing but *gush* about it since he interviewed there. It is really wonderful news!

On the way home, he was talking to me from his cell phone and I mentioned that I was getting a little nervous because they will probably be giving him a going away luncheon that she will more than likely be attending. So the conversation went...and went...and we began talking about the annual office Christmas party. And somehow the subject came up about a gift that she had given him one Christmas. This was not a gift that was a part of the office's Secret Santa exchange. It was from her to him. It was just some picture frame.

The fireworks began when he told me that the gift was not a joint gift, which he originally said it was, from her and another member of her department for working on some project for their department, but a Christmas gift from her alone. Which started my Dr. Jeckyll and Mrs. Hyde routine going. I asked him if he remembered telling me that this was a joint gift from her and a coworker as a token of appreciation for working on some extended project. He didn't remember. So I started wondering why she would buy him a gift, considering she wasn't even involved in the Secret Santa, but I guess I already knew the answer to that one. So I moved on to the next logical question, but the one that was going to hurt me most, "What did *you* buy *her*?" Of course, there were more exclamation points and question marks in there, but I'm trying to be nice here. And all the while, I'm imagining all of the personal gifts he could have given her, the lingerie, the jewelry, the perfume. The answer to the $20,000 question..."I don't remember."

Following about fifteen minutes of interrogation that would make Olivia Benson and Elliot Staebler proud, I finally gave up. Believe it or not, that was pretty tame compared to how I used to be. Nine months ago, it would have lasted until the wee hours of the morning when he would have confessed to the Manson killings if I would just let him go to sleep. Progress??? No.

I am so confused as to *why* I am jumping back into the pit. I was completely unsatisfied with the "I don't know" answer. I wanted the details, I wanted to be hurt, I felt the old adrenaline rush coming over me again. I don't know why I would choose to cloud such a great moment in our lives with this same tired crap. And that's what it is, just a big fat steaming pile of crap. And right now that is what I feel like too.

I wish I could wrap this one up with a big shiny ribbon, but I'm afraid it requires yesterday's newspaper or a roll of paper towels. Sorry.