Do I resemble my mommie?
Tag Archives: craziness
POST: 300
Just wanted my 300th Post to be summery! Thanks to everyone out there for your kindness and support. You are a fabulous group of people! Keep it up!
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Writing Through Cancer: When life hurts, writing can help. Weekly writing prompts for those living with debilitating illness, pain or trauma.
Stories—the small personal ones that bring us close as well as those of the larger world—foster compassion. In the telling of our personal lives, we’re reminded of our basic, human qualities—our vulnerabilities and strengths, foolishness and wisdom, who we are…, through the exchange of stories, [you] help heal each other’s spirits.
–Patrice Vecchione, Writing and the Spiritual Life
Growing up, I was a shy child. As the years went on, I came out of my shyness a little, but as I grew older and started getting serious about life the shyness reappeared in certain situations.
I think we all go through an awkward phase as a child, I’d say I hit mine around the sixth-grade or seventh-grade. The summer I turned twelve years old, I shot up over six inches in height. Mom thought she was purchasing stylish glasses for me, when truth be told, they were the ugliest glasses I had ever seen.
Anyone with an opportunity and a mean streak took it upon themselves to let me know how gawky and goofy I looked in those glasses. As I got taller, I was the second tallest girl in my class and the first girl to develop in all the right places. I was taller than everyone in the class. That just added to the fire.
Another thing that added to my “nerdy” status is that I developed allergies as a child. I grew up when they didn’t know how to treat allergies. I was always sick, had a lot of food allergies and did a ton of throwing up after meals. Not so easy to make friends when you are literally the snotty girl, always scratching and have the ability to vomit at the drop of a hat. Kids can be so mean. I was sick so much, mom thought I needed to see a doctor daily. The ironic thing about mom running me to the doctor constantly, was that the brain tumor I have has been there since I was a child. I was sick, but not for any of the reasons she was taking me to the doctor.
All of these, should have been good things, but the kids I grew up with saw a vulnerable girl they could hurl their latest ammunition at. It was like some bully kept a book and said “let’s pick on her today.”
One stupid new girl decided she would target me on her own. I became her pet project at her new school. She took particular dislike to my glasses. I was called “Four-Eyes” so many times in the eighth-grade that I decided to let her foolishness stop bothering me and decided to kill her with kindness. Sometime in the night-grade, the bullying stopped. The new girl, never turned nice through four-years of high school, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t let her get to me.
I took my classes, did my school work and survived high school. Most of us do. What you have to remember about bullies, is that they are just jealous or sometimes it could be as boy or girl who is sweet on you and doesn’t know how to handle their own feelings. Be patient growing up, God will get up through it! I went to college away from everyone I had known for years.
After graduating high school, the shy girl came flying out of me again. Nursing school put me into situations I didn’t know how to handle, so I did my best. If I was uncomfortable in a situation, I worked my way through it. After I was married the first time, I ran into people here and there. What I noticed the most, was they acted like we were life long friends. God says to forgive and I have forgiven.
Doctors are not kind to new nurses or old ones at that. My first nursing job, opened my eyes to how crude the medical profession can be. You would not believe, what goes on behind the scenes, at some hospitals here in Georgia. In all my life, I did not realize how ugly people can be to one another. I grew-up quickly.
After my first husband and I divorced, one of my first jobs as a single woman was at the local jail in my hometown. The saddest part of that job, was seeing more people I went to high school with in jail than on the streets of town. A few were hard to believe, but others I had seen in trouble for years. I dated a deputy for a while, and he got a bit stalkerish. Someone in jail, that I had known for years, stood up for me. He did the right thing and said something when the time was right. I never got the chance to say thank you! Thank you, Joe! I know he’ll never see this, but at least I have said it.
I went through many jobs, that finally lead me to the career I was meant to have. I stayed with that career until I was forced into retirement by a nasty brain tumor called a gangliocytoma. I would later discover the tumor was just a symptom of a genetic disorder called Cowden Syndrome. Sine that diagnosis, I have survived Thyroid Cancer and I am dealing with breast cancer. Every month, I am in some doctor’s office being probed, prodded or x-rayed.
Note to all doctor’s that do lumpectomies, tell your patient’s about the fluid build-up possibility and the possibility of acting like a leaky pipe under your arm. It would make life after lumpectomy less stressful.
I’m getting tired, but I refuse to let this mess get the best of me. God has a plan for my life, otherwise I wouldn’t still be around. It is not my place to question that plan. I have tolerated this breast cancer episode better than things in the past. Either I am tired of fighting, or learning how to give it to God finally. I’ve prayed about the subject. It must be sinking in.
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Day Three: Post Lumpectomy
One word describes today: PAIN…looking for my giggle pills to see if it helps.
Growing Up in the Shadows
Before I write this, I want everyone to know every word is TRUE! The sad thing is, this is only one story of many I could tell.
My name is Jill. I am the middle child of three girls. My sisters and I are close. We had to be close growing up. Mom was a little hard to deal with when we were kids. It wasn’t until recently, that we have started to understand mom’s behavior as we grew-up.
Growing up, I worshiped my older sister. I followed her everywhere. I didn’t let her out of my sight for long. When I started my cycle, 2 weeks after Sandy, mom started telling everyone; “Jill never could let Sandy do anything by herself.” I was eight years old and Sandy was 11. At this point, Kristie was young enough not to care about anything her older sisters and what they were doing. She was too busy growing up.
We grew up in a small town in the days when it was OK to leave kids at the movies, mall (actually I’m not sure we had a local mall yet), or skating rink without grown-up supervision. When mom and dad left us on our own, Sandy took on the role of protector. She watched Kristie and I like a hawk. She wasn’t going to be in charge if something happened.
An unbelievable incident occurred while we were at the local skating rink. The incident slowly evolved from some bigger kids picking on Kristie. She was wearing a tube top, one of the older girls grabbed by the shoulders and dug her finger nails in, to the point of bringing blood from the scratches, left across her shoulders.
Kristie immediately ran to Sandy and pointed the girls out to her. Sandy told the Security Guard, who had a talk with the girls. Which apparently did not a bit of good, because they ran to their mother’s. Their mother’s proceeded to corner Sandy and threaten her.
When mom arrived, Sandy told her the story. You could see mom’s switch flip from cool, calm and collected; to do not mess with my kids. Sandy pointed everyone out to mom. The security guard realized mom had arrived and he proceeded to attempt to talk her out of saying anything.
Mom went to talk to the older girls. They ran to their mothers. When their mothers confronted our mother, the security guard called the police. I am not sure how to describe the other women involved, politely. They were like no other women I had seen in my lifetime. This was the first time I ever realized women could actually shave their eyebrows and paint them back on. Not a look I care for.
A crowd started to form around the car my mom leaned into to discuss the situation. She must have said something the women in the car didn’t like because they sell got out of the car, came around and surrounded mom.
The driver of the car, pushed mom backwards. Mom got up fighting. She jumped the driver. The next thing we knew mom and the driver were rolling around on the ground and the other women were landing punches as they could. The crowd was wild.
Before the fight was in full swing, the Security Guard called the police. We could here the sirens getting closer in the background. The police arrived, they attempted to stop the fight and desperate everyone. All I could see of the fight was fists and hair flying. At one point, I watched my mother grab the Security Guard and tell him to leave her alone if he didn’t want to loose what she was grabbing.
The police finally separated the fight and attempted to sort out what happened. I do not remember much after this, because our father had been contacted to pick us up. We were taken home and sent to bed. When we got up the next day, mom was home and the previous night was not mentioned.
I have a relationship with my sisters that others have trouble understanding. Maybe it has something to do with our childhood. We went through a lot together.
My husband was an only child. He had one child with his first wife. My oldest sister’s husband grew up with a brother and sister. My youngest sister’s husband is from overseas and grew-up with a sister. Other than Barry, everyone grew-up with a sibling.
Libor, Kristie’s husband, states that he has never seen siblings get along so well together or exhibit the closeness we do concerning one another.
When Barry and I were married, it took him ages to get used to our relationship. He became a little upset with me once when he overheard a conversation between my oldest sister and myself. He felt I should have been asking him the kind of questions, he heard me asking Sandy.
I tried to explain that I’ve been depending on my sisters for advice on certain topics since I was a kid. He grew up an only child, not knowing what it is like to have a closeness with a sibling. As time goes by, he grows closer to understanding our relationship.
You have friendship, brotherhood, and many other words to describe a kinship between people. If you do not know or understand what it means to be a sister, you do not know what you are missing.
Sisters are a different breed. We interact with one another on a different level than brothers and friends do. We know each others deep, dark secrets. We ask and answer each other questions you’d have trouble asking you husband or closest friend.
Sisters tell you when they think you are acting like an idiot and then they will also let you know when they think you are brilliant. You can always count on your sister. Through good and bad times, they will always be there for you.
You can count on your sisters to always be open and honest with you. When you get sick, your sister will be there to do whatever needs to be done. Part of being a sister, is being able to tell your sister when they are being complete turds and need to remember there are other people in this world than themselves.
Everyone has busy full lives today, you can’t shuck off your responsibilities to suit your needs. Once a sister, always a sister. Once a daughter, always a daughter. There are a few things in life that cannot be changed.
With sisters, you can be fighting like cats and dogs one minute or not speaking for months; let something happen and your sisters will be there at the drop of a hat. Sisters are always there when you need them.
Being the middle child of three girls, I felt like I was in the shadow of my sisters daily. We went through the same school system, rode the same bus, had the same issues with our parents. Some how, I man managed to feel over-shadowed by my older and younger sisters. Teachers, the bus driver and other school-related employees used to ask if I talked as much as my older sister. When I said, “No, I was the quiet one.” Their answer was always “Good”.
Kristie over-shadowed me when she was a freshman in high school. I had spent most of my junior year, sick and out of school. Upon returning my senior year, my baby sister took it upon herself to be my protector. She wouldn’t let anyone mess with me. Mrs. Gieger, the bus driver, said Kristie talked too much also. She told me once I was a nice break between my two sisters.
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Daily Prompt: Cringe-Worthy
Do you feel uncomfortable when you see someone ;else being embarrassed? What’s most likely to make you squirm?
What makes me uncomfortable is seeing anyone think they have the right to attack someone, in public, for whatever reason.
I wouldn’t call the feeling I get, uncomfortable. It leans more toward anger than uncomfortable. As Americans we have rights. In my book, one right should most definitely be; the right not to be attacked in public unjustly.
I feel more uncomfortable for the person doing the attacking. Not only is what they are doing embarrassing, it is just not nice. The reason/cause of the attack doesn’t matter. It, flat-out, is not right!
Coming down off my ‘Nice’ high horse, I’ll admit there is something in public that makes me cringe and want to point something out to another person. I never do it, but I feel terrible for even thinking about it.
I’m embarrassed to start with, that today’s society has a named things like “muffin tops“, “whale tales”, “tramp stamps”, and “bro-pants”. It is just sad that our society thinks it is OK to dress the way they do out in public. Since when is it OK to wear your pj’s to the grocery store?
As a woman, when I see another woman or girl out in public dressed as if they should be wearing “Spanx” from head to toe makes me cringe.
I am uncomfortable being shown the top of someone’s rear when in public. Call me old-fashioned, I do not care! Whatever happened to having a little mystery in your life? Do you have to show all you goodies off, every time you are out in public?
Next time you think you are ready to leave the house, take a second look. Think about the people who will be looking at you once you leave your home. Have a little mercy, please!
Pop and his pants
My father, known lovingly as. Pop, is quite a character. He is fun-loving and just a happy, jolly man nothing appears to bother
Not long ago, at a little hole in the wall restaurant, you will not believe what happened. Pop has always appeared to have an active radar for little off-beat restaurants.
We had lunch without a hitch, surprisingly good food. Pop got up to go pay the bill. While standing at the register, I looked up in time to see pop‘s short’s fall to the floor. Thank goodness he had taken time for underpants.
I watched him scratch his head, as he looked around the room. Yes, everyone had noticed. When he realized everyone knew; he leaned over, shining plumber’s crack to the room and pulled them up rather quickly.
Once back in the car, he asked us to remind him to get a belt when he gets home. I do not believe we ever saw Pop in that pair of shorts again. I do know we never stopped at that restaurant again. It was a shame, the food was really good.
Daily Prompt: Competition
What activity, task, or game most brings out your competitive streak?
Board Games drive me insane. It doesn’t matter which one of them it is,I get angry thinking about them. Just the thought of pulling a board game out gives my competitive hormone the kick in the hiney it cannot stand.. Maybe it is the fact that I stink at every board game I have ever tried to play. Or it could be the no good braggers that I play with. Who knows? I’ll just continue to avoid them like the plague.
The only violence I have ever exhibited when playing, was with my ex-husband. He loved to play chess. I know how, but I stink. In one of his rare forms, when he was wiping the board with me, he went too far. I picked the board up and threw it at him. Needless to say, we never played again.
I’ve played Gin Rummy and Scrabble, with Barry, no problems. I do not think we’ll ever play chess.
A ” New Barry” Moment
When I write post like these, you all need to realize that Barry is aware of what I am posting and is fine with it.
Mr. Baynes let something slip tonight while at the store. I do not think he intended to tell me. Over the weekend, he went to Lowe’s by himself. This I was aware of.
He left out his side trip to the beauty shop across from Lowe’s. He actually walked in the salon and asked if they had any beads he could clip in his hair. From what he says, he stopped all work going on in the shop and the place was roaring in laughter, with a side of shock.
Any of you that have looked at our pictures are aware that my sweet, sexy husband is as bald as they come. Is it safe to let him out of the house alone? His stroke took every inhibition Barry had. I never know what to expect next.
My New Least Favorite Words on Earth: Incidental Findings
Dr. M, my now urologist, seems like a very good doctor with a great personality/bedside manner. My appointment today went great. The kidney ultrasound is good, with one little issue to follow. Otherwise Dr. M. says my kidney’s are beautiful. Awwww, how sweet. They better be! About the only organ I have left that functions correctly.
What gets me about Cowdens Syndrome is the unknown. Today, I’m told I actually have an organ that is functioning properly, but we need to watch this “one” little spot. We want to make sure it isn’t something forming that shouldn’t be where it is. So, my roller coaster of doctors continues.
On top of the little spot that needs watching on the right kidney. It appears there is an incidental finding on my liver. He would like to schedule an MRI, to get a better look. So, more tests, more waiting and more unknowns.
I feel like I am fussing about what is going on in my body. I truly believe that Jesus died to save us from our sins. I believe that the Good Lord has a plan for us and we shouldn’t question that plan. My life is in his hands and I am not exactly how to hand my troubles over to the Lord and not worry.
After my appointment today, I wasn’t what I would call questioning things, but I was so frustrated with the news that it brought me to tears. When I got to a private place, I asked the Lord for the grace and strength I need to make it through all of this news. My fears eased.
It is just so incredibly hard to deal with all of this. Today, I felt like the robot from “Lost in Space“.Turning in circles, arms flopping, thinking, “fix me Will Robinson, fix me!” If it were only that easy.
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