Memorial Memories

I've seen variations of this picture a lot today:

Grabbed from Tom N Kim Chroniger on Facebook

I have been thinking a lot of the real reason for Memorial Day a lot lately, largely because this week is also the anniversary of my brother's last week of life -- and to top it off, my brother was Army. He is buried at Ft. Benning now and I will be going down next weekend to visit his grave with his wife and daughters and other family members. But this weekend, I'm going to try to make it about all of the men and women who have served or are serving our country.

One of my friends posted a link on Facebook earlier to the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, and I think I'm going to head down there at some point this weekend. Looking at that video reminded me of when I volunteered for an organization called No Greater Love. The organization was created in 1971 by an amazing spitfire of a woman named Carmella La Spada, and its mission is to support the families of men and women who serve our country. I heard about the organization by reading an article in the Parade magazine insert during Operation Desert Shield in 1990.

I, like many other people, was unemployed at the time, but going to Computer Learning Center (Springfield, VA) and working part-time at Erol's Video store in Rockville, MD. Some people would think that unemployment is the most depressing thing in the world, but it gave me such confidence in myself! I had gotten a pretty decent severence package when I got laid off in May, so I decided to use it to go to school "full-time" - which meant I wasn't eligible for unemployment benefits. But, I ended up getting a piece of paper that helped me get my foot in the door to change careers *and* a lot of transferrable credits toward a Bachelor's degree. I worked as many hours at Erol's as possible without being full-time (so they didn't have to give me benefits), had a boyfriend, and was doing very well in school, and was generally able to make ends meet, but... something was missing.

Meanwhile, in August that year, a bozo in Baghdad decided to invade the rich little country next door. Needless to say, the US government and governments around the world, were NOT happy about that. So, they started Desert Shield about five days after the invasion of Kuwait. I was dating a former Marine (I know, there's no such thing - "former active duty Marine" then?) and my brother was Army so I knew that this was a huge deal for everyone in the military. This was the first major military mission since Vietnam, and every active duty troop I knew was anxious to be sent over there to get combat duty. Needless to say, all of their families were anxious that their loved ones were NOT sent over to the desert!

So I read about No Greater Love and how they supported family members and realized that was what I had been looking for. Maybe it's my missionary kid upbringing, but I thinik I have a "helping people" gene. And this mission just spoke to me, straight to my heart. I didn't have any money to donate so I called them up and was invited to come down and help out. At first, I spent about five or six hours a week in the office, either answering calls from women whose husbands were in Kuwait or parents of sons and daughters, or typing up thank-you letters and donation requests in WordPerfect. Being who I am, I started fiddling with their mail merge and made it a lot more efficient, and then turned my process improvement eye to other things that could be done better. Carmella took notice and asked me if I could work more hours. I explained to her that I was full-time unemployed so I really had to work as many hours as possible to keep afloat - so she offered me a job! She paid me in cash to work additional hours at NGL, and she put the word out to her network of friends and benefactors that I needed work.

Because of those contacts, I was able to get more part-time jobs like being a bookkeeper for a psychiatrist and working in a Norwegian café in Georgetown called Café Ibsen -- in addition to working at NGL and Erol's *and* going to school full-time! I look back on those days and think, "Who was that masked girl?" because I'm FAR too lazy for it to have been me! LOL But, boy, were they fun!

New Year

It's a new year, a new day, and maybe a new blog. I haven't written in a long time but I am bound and determined to start writing again. 2011 was not the best year for me, so I'm hoping that 2012 treats me a little better. And I think I need to write. I need to get my thoughts written down so I can deal with them.

Soop - I plan to make myself write *something* on a regular basis. It might be gibberish, it might not - who knows?

If you are still reading, thanks for your support!

Depression

Depression – it’s not all a barrel of laughs.

I woke up this morning with that thought, or something like it, running through my brain. It’s currently 6:49am and I’ve been wrestling with those thoughts for over an hour so I finally decided to get out of bed, write and get them out.

As you may have noticed, this has been a pretty crap year for me so far. Which bugs me because it’s supposed to be “my year” – it’s the Year of the Rabbit, and I’m a Rabbit! And Rabbits are supposed to be really lucky!  But nooooooooooooooooooo….

I was depressed before this year started, but I think things have gotten worse. I’ve been in therapy and on and off of a light dose of Lexapro for a few years now (ever since I had a boss who LITERALLY drove me crazy). It all started because I was just angry all the time. I’m a pretty happy type of person generally speaking, so when I realized that I was pissed off at everybody and couldn’t control it, I thought maybe, just maybe, there was a problem. Especially when I also realized that I was taking out my anger on my friends and for no apparent reason. (Yeah, depression is fun: you don't take it out on the people who really deserve it, you save it all up for yourself and your loved ones...)

My family have a history of depression which helped my self-diagnosis, but even more importantly, helped me feel comfortable seeking help. It was something like: I need help, therefore I will get help! It was also fortunate that I had been told "if one therapist doesn’t work for you, try, try again!" I had tried a psychiatrist years before and been told that my parents had abused me because I had been born in Hong Kong and moved around a lot as a kid. Funny thing was that the person who told me this was a foreign-born national who had moved around a lot as a kid. Hmmm, projection much?

ANYWAY – I was very lucky to find a great psychiatrist who has even become my talk therapist after a disastrous attempt with someone else who decided I had PTSD… because that was her specialty.  *sigh*

…

And I’m doing it again. I have a tendency to start talking about something and then veering off into tangents. They might be related, but they aren’t really the point with which I started. Ever noticed that? ;-)

…

What I started out writing about this morning was what’s going on with me now and how it’s not a whole lot of fun. I have gotten almost paralyzed socially, but I think I hide it well until something comes up that makes it impossible to hide. Like these last two weekends.u

Las weekend I almost backed out of going to (very good) friend’s birthday party because a) I might have to stay over night and b) a lot of people I don’t know would be there. I had really bad allergies and felt miserable, but I made myself get off my couch and get out there. Luckily, another friend offered me a ride so I didn’t have to drive OR stay overnight -- I had already gotten myself into “go to the party” mode on my own, but that helped a lot! I had a great time and even played horse shoes for the first time!

Last night I was planning to go to a party with friends I haven’t seen in YEARS for a semi-reunion of sorts, in honor of another friend’s birthday.  I was really looking forward to seeing everyone again and hanging out with them. So, I woke up yesterday with what I thought was a bad hangover. Yes, I drank a lot on Friday night, but I stopped around 12:30am and got food and drank water. I was home by 1:30am and drank more water, took Advil, and was asleep by 2am. I woke up around 9am, made Toad-in-the-Hole (my new favorite breakfast), then sat on the couch and caught up with work and stuff. And suddenly, I felt chills and fever and just felt awful. I took some allergy drugs and then a nap and still felt crappy. I again thought it was just a bad hangover and allergies (the weather changed considerably between Friday and Saturday), so I thought getting up and out of the house might help.  So, I went to a movie (“Money Ball” – quite enjoyable).

Enjoyed the movie, walked around the street fair a little, then got a coffee and came back home. And within 30 minutes was back in bed, under the covers, shivering and snuggling with my warm, fuzzy kitty. I took some cold drugs and then slept for a few more hours.  Woke up and called my friends and told them that I was just feeling too lousy to go to their party after all.

And today, I feel a lot better physically, but I wonder if all of that “illness” was just anxiety? Depression? 

My depression isn’t one of those where I have to convince myself each morning that I really should not kill myself. It’s much less demanding than that. Or maybe not – because it’s really more of just having to convince myself to get out of bed. No, I can do that when it’s work I have to get to, but if it’s a social thing, then it really takes an effort for me.  And I’ve noticed that it has gotten REALLY hard for me to get my butt off of my couch and exercise. I’m signed up to do the Marine Corps Marathon (MCM) 10k at the end of this month. I’ve been signed up since June and I will be running with my nieces and nephew in honor of my brother… but I can NOT get myself to work out and train for it!

Why?

I don’t know.

And it upsets me.

Maybe I should do as Professor Hathway suggests and “up the voltage” heehee

Horsing Around

It's been a while, but I just haven't felt like writing. As my sister put it the other day, I'm trying to "recalibrate what 'fine' means". But - I was reading an old thread on my favorite discussion board and came across one of my favorite true stories from my childhood -- and I thought I'd share...

I've only ridden about three times in my life, but the first time was a WONDERFUL experience!

I was in 6th grade at British school in HK, Black Beauty was my favorite book and those plastic horses were my favorite toys.  Two of my friends had riding lessons every weekend (as you do, if your British) and they invited me to join them one weekend, saying they had reserved the quietest, sweetest horse for me to ride. However, when we got there we found a birthday party for a bunch of six-year-olds in progress... using "my" horse of course.

The only other horse available hadn't been exercised yet, and they were worried that he might be too antsy for a new rider. Well, he WAS the only horse available, and I wasn't going to go out to the riding place and NOT ride, uh uh no way!

SO... they got me up on his back, and walked us out to a little paddock with a well-trod circle in it, and gave me lessons about the paces and how to ride in a circle.  I enjoyed it, but I honestly never got the bouncing thing (until later) -- ANYWAY, after about 30 mins of this, my friends wanted to get out and really ride, so we headed out of the training paddock and turned right onto a short path that joined with the main path to a much larger paddock that adjoined the one we had been using, with a large gate/hedge in between.

But, as soon as we turned right again, my horse looked down the path and went "SPACE!!! I'VE GOT SPACE!!!" And took off at a gallop down the road! Other than that morning's training, my only "riding instructions" were from watching movies like "National Velvet", so I hunched down and leaned forward over my hands like a jockey, and the horse (not surprisingly) took this as "GO FASTER"... so he did. It was BEAUTIFUL, if just a mite scary!

My friends were screaming "Pull the reins, pull the reins" and I noticed the entrance to the other paddock coming up on the right, so I started pulling hard right. The horse pulled into the paddock and did a u-turn and headed straight back down ... and OVER the hedge into the training paddock! Where he calmly trotted around the training circle again. I stayed glued to him and alternated between gasping for breath and laughing out loud. Brilliant!

I'll never forget Fiona Hutton's injured tone when she finally caught up with me again: "You never told us you could jump!" Of course, *I* had nothing to do with that jump, it was all horse... and I thank him for an absolutely exhilarating experience! And after that, he had gotten his ya-yas out and he was just sweetness and light.

Man -- just remembering that story makes me all happy inside. I really need to ride again!

 Thanks kaspinet for the awesome ani!

Life, interrupted

It's been a while since I last wrote here. Why? Well, life got in the way. 

On April 27, as tornadoes bore down to cause massive and unprecedented destruction in Alabama, my brother called 911 and was driven to the emergency room at Jackson Hospital in Montgomery, AL. He was alert but "wheezy" and they were concerned that he had a serious case of pneumonia. He gave the ER nurse his emergency numbers: his wife Marla, his commanding officer (CO), and me, his baby sister.

For some reason, Marla's phone kept going straight to voice-mail so the ER manager called me instead. I was in Georgia with my parents, watching Jeopardy! as usual. I almost didn't answer the phone because I didn't recognize the area code, much less the phone number. But I'm glad I did. I didn't really understand what the nurse was saying to me at first, but it finally got through that my brother was seriously ill and needed family by his side as soon as possible... and they couldn't get in touch with his wife! 

I got the phone number and said I was going to try all the numbers I had and then would call them back in 30 minutes regardless. I had already decided that I would drive to Montgomery if I couldn't get in touch with anyone.

I sent text messages to Marla and her two daughters (in their 20s), and was actually on the phone with the hospital again when Rachel called me back. Apparently Marla had been packing up their house in GA so they could move officially to AL the following weekend, and she had left her phone in a "dead zone". But now they were all getting together to drive from the Atlanta area down to Montgomery... through the tornadoes. (Meanwhile, my brother's eldest, Sara, is a flight attendant and was on a flight which was delayed on the Atlanta tarmac because of the storms. The pilot decided he had to pull the plane back to the airport for gas - so she could get off. Nice pilot!)

Marla, Rachel, Sara and Dan tag-teamed driving and made it to the hospital by about 12:30AM (ET), much to the relief of Dad, who had been tracking them through the tornadoes, and me, who had been waiting to see if I needed to drive down myself. As they were safely in Montgomery (in a house with no furniture), I decided I could finally go to sleep, and then suddenly noticed there was a massive storm outside!

Anyway -- It took several weeks, but they finally figured out that my brother had ARDS - Adult Respiratory Distress Syndrome. Probably a result of a flu bug that turned into pneumonia, plus the facts that he had been spraying bee poison recently and he had been smoking for about 40 years. He had not been feeling well the weekend before and he went to a doctor on Monday with a 103* fever -- and was sent home with allergy pills and cough medicine. And two days later, his lung x-rays showed both lungs completely clouded.

Marla called me that Friday so I ended up driving down to Montgomery that Saturday, ostensibly for one day, but I didn't leave again until the following Wednesday. It was supposed to be my last week in GA, and I *had* to drive back to DC no later than May 8 because that's when my dealer tag expired (yes, after 10 car-less years, I bought a car)! Also, Rachel was graduating on May 7. So, I drove back to Eatonton, then drove my mom to Atlanta and back on Saturday for Rachel's graduation, and then drove to DC on Sunday, May 8. The good news was that Dave was off the respirator! He came off the day I left, and he seemed to be improving!

I spent the next week at the DC DMV or sleeping. Or, occasionally, working. I got my temporary DC tag and was starting to get back into my regular work routine when I got another call from Marla. Dave had developed a staph infection and they were going to have to put him back on the respirator.

Two days later (May 20), my cat and I were driving to Charlotte to spend the night with my sister and her husband before heading back to Montgomery. During the week I had been gone, Marla and her daughters had gotten everything moved from Carrollton, GA to the new house in Montgomery.  They still had a lot of boxes everywhere -- but at least they had furniture! 

We woke up early every day to get to the hospital by 9am (Central) so we could talk to the doctor before the 10am visiting hours. Eventually, I worked it out that if I skipped the 1pm visiting hour, I could work a full 4 hours before the 4pm session. (Thank god for the flexibility of my job!) And then we would go back to the hospital for the last session of the day at 8pm. In between, we picked up necessary (and some unnecessary) items at Target, Walmart, or Publix, had lunch, and/or watched TV. It was exhausting, but I am so glad that I was able to spend that time with Marla, Sara, and Rachel. I also got to know Dan (Sara's husband) and Revas (Rachel's boyfriend) better. It sure beat being by myself in my effiiciency apartment in DC wondering what the hell was going on.

And then came the Thursday when the doctor gave us bad news, May 26. The doctor some of us nick-named "Dr. Gloomy Gus" because he tended to be bound and determined to give us no hope at all, told us that morning that Dave was not going to make it. There was a lot of confusion then because other doctors said they still had tests to do, and Dave's "sats" seemed to be doing better. The nurses were convinced that Dave still had a chance, but we sent out the word to the whole family that it was time for them to come say Goodbye.

One of the deacons from my parent's church drove them down from Eatonton; my sister Karen and her husband Carlton drove from Charlotte; and my other sister Cathy flew down from DC and then drove from Atlanta. Marla's twin sister Carla, and her daughter Ashley, drove down from Little Rock, AR. Cathy's flight was delayed in DC, but everyone else got to Montgomery by Thursday night (she got in around 6am on Friday). Mom and Dad were able to visit Dave in the ICU, but Dad was not physically capable of staying too long.

We all met for dinner at Mom and Dad's hotel and it was so good to have the family together - we all laugh so much, even through tears! And Dad got to meet Dan and Revas for the first time. :-) The dinner service was interminable, but it turned out OK because we were all there long enough for the travelers to arrive.  And one of Dave's buddies in the National Guard, Gardner Perdue, came by and was just a gem. The next day we were all in Dave's room and he started doing magic tricks and telling jokes - not like "LOOK AT ME!!!", just kind of "hey, have you seen this?".Soon, the entire family was laughing and smiling - and Dave's sats went up considerably. It was just what we needed.  I wasn't there for the whole show because I figured 75 people in an ICU room was a few too many (OK, 10 or 12), but the rest of the crew could not stop talking about it.

Dave survived that weekend, but he wasn't actually getting any better. My parents had to get back home because they needed their medications, so Cathy drove them back and stayed the night before heading back to DC. Karen and Carlton stayed in Montgomery for few more nights, as did Carla and Ashley.   I'm very glad that I was able to spend one of those nights watching bad movies with Dave. That's what we do. :-)

We learned on Monday that Dave's blood oxygen percentage was very low, and had been for a while, which caused a lot of concern. They did an EEG to check his brain function, but it would take a few days to get it analyzed. The nurses bent over backward fighting for Dave to get better - but, they had been reducing his sedation and he wasn't coming out of it... There really wasn't a lot we could do except wait, pray, and hope.

Meanwhile, Dave's new neighbors had started providing meals for us every night, except the night the guys decided to throw a cook-out in his honor. These were neighbors who, for the most part, had not met Dave. But they knew he was military and they cared and helped us anyway. There were just so many people who cared.  Dan and Sara's friends came down to keep our spirits up (emotionally and liquidly), and it helped SO much!

On Wednesday, June 1, we got the results of the EEG: not good. Not good at all. We realized that we had to make a decision about Dave. With a lot of tears, but also the knowledge of what Dave would want, we made the decision to remove his ventilator the next day.

On Thursday, June 2, I held my brother's hand, and Rachel and I stayed with him. We knew that Dave really hadn't been "there" for a few days, but I still felt the need to hold his hand. It just broke my heart that he really was gone.

And he was. I still can't quite wrap my head around it...

Edited to correct a time reference from 12:30pm to 12:30AM. Doh!

Earth Day

It's Earth Day?

Who knew?

Well, I didn't at first, I just knew I officially had the day off. My body did anyway.

I had planned on getting up at 7:30 and working for a couple of hours so that I could then spend the rest of the day helping Mom and Dad haul books to the truck so we could then haul them to the PCS (Putnam Community... uh... Something - local version of Goodwill but Christianish... Services? maybe? WHATEVER! moooooving on...).

HOWever, my body decided that it was a day off DANGIT! So, I slept until 9:30ish, at which time Mom and Dad should have been back from the salon (Mom gets her hair done on Fridays -and sometimes Saturdays when Dad forgets what day it is...).

But they weren't. The car was there, but then I noticed that Dad's truck was gone. In it's place was Mr. George's truck. He's the guy who does the lawns for both houses and trims up Dad's gorgeous back-yard garden.  And he's only about five years older than Dad! Just had cataract surgery last week. Sheesh, I just wish he'd get out and do something. :-)

Dad's gorgeous back-yard garden

So, I said Hey to Mr. George as he mowed the lawn and I walked up to my parents' house, petting a wet and whining Hero along the way. All I found at the house was a whining 12-year-old puppy who really REALLY wanted to get out and find my dad! I figured that they had gone to the store after the hair salon, so I decided to let Hogan out on the leash,and spend the time making myself an omelet (cheese and broccoli) and toast for breakfast. It was delicious, and Mom and Dad came back just in time ... in the truck, of course.

But our original plan of hauling books was foiled because Dad's mail-order plants came in! So he and Mom were opening up the boxes and figuring out what went where and putting the potting soil out. And then... you'll never believe it! I actually planted something! Not sure what, but I was down on my knees with hands in soil, planting stuff. I think it was azaleas. It was a joint effort: Dad directing, me placing the plants where he said they were supposed to go and Mom starting off the planting with a trowel in hand. I took over the planting because a) I wanted to and b) Mom was overdoing it as usual and getting tired. And then Mom and I spread bark all over the back of the row and in between the plants. It was a good morning.

What I think I planted will look like someday. I think.

Afterwards, Mom went in to get the dirt from under her fingers and rest a bit before heading to church (her church is having Noon services all week because it's Easter week) and Dad explained what else he wants to do in the garden while I brushed Hogan. Dad had saved some fleurs for Mr. George, so we three had another planting conversation (because I'm a planter now, you know...) I helped get the pine straw out of the truck and Dad's threw the rest of the bags of potting soil onto some very hardy plants that get bright yellow flowers everywhere at the end of the summer. He told me what it was but I have no idea what he said. (See? Complete gardener here, aren't I?)

I was about to head back to my house to take a shower and do that work I hadn't started yet, but Mom asked if I would drive her to church. So, instead of a shower, I spent about 10 minutes carving the dirt out of my nails with the hooky thing from the nail clippers (I like to use the correct technical terms), and then drove her all two minutes over to the church.

When I got home, I turned on the computer to do the two hours of work I had planned on doing, and saw the "Earth Day" references and thought, "Well, I certainly celebrated it properly!" I still haven't taken a shower yet, so my knees are still stained with the black potting soil. It's kind of fun! Reminds me of being a kid...

And I think I'll be spreading pine straw this afternoon. Or napping. 

heeheehee

Driving

I bought a car a week ago, and immediately drove it 100+ miles to Atlanta because I had to go back to DC for a week.  It's funny - after nearly 10 years of saying, "I don't need a car" and "I'm SO glad I don't have a car", I am SO excited to have a car!  And it's the car I always said would be my next car: a 2002 Honda CR-V.  OK, I didn't predict a 2002 version, but I love it!  It's green and it's got low mileage (well, until I got a hold of it), and it completely suits me.

I left it in my neice's gated parking lot instead of the airport because it's still got the dealer tags and I was warned that it would get stolen immediately.  That worked out very well though - my niece and her mom picked me up at the airport last Sunday and we went back to her apartment so I could pick up my car ("Charlie").  I asked if we could go down to Pizzeria Venti for their Bocce Balls™ (YUM), and I even decided to pick up some Bocce Balls™ to take with me because Mom & Dad need to get in on this deliciousness. 

And then I drove down the highway with all four windows open to get the yucky car shampoo smell out, radio rocking to "11", and my hair FLYING out the window (took about 10 minutes to get all the knots out when I finally stopped... heeheehee).  It was a great ride.

Especially when I got on the "Eatonton Road" (it's the "Madison Road" going the other way), and all the cows and calves were out in the fields, having a bit of a kip.  It reminded me of the Sesame Street bit when the announcer says "C is for Cow" and a cow comes out and says "Meow".  The announcer says, "No, that is what a CAT says, but C is also for Cat!"  So a cat comes out and says, "Moooo".  heeheehee  Of course, I just can't resist!

So, I felt somewhat Eddie Izzard-ish, driving along, turning my head and saying "Meow!"...




and laughing...




a lot!