Green Lights

A beacon of hope. Hang in there kids, hang in there.

This Nurses Work

Oh, hey there. Its me, back from several years of living. I know there are a gazillion posts on partially abandoned blogs that begin like this. So, here's mine. I haven't felt much like expressing myself the last few years. I'm a crafter, can't craft. I'm a blogger, can't blog. I like Instagram a lot. If you scroll through these posts, there are so many images. Its clearly something I like to include in my stories. But Instagram doesn't lend to the long form story telling. Not on a phone. That's weird, fuck that. And then I remembered my beloved blog. One that I've manned and curated since March of 2009, a lifetime ago. So strap in, I'm still here.

I feel an urgency to write, to express and to create, because the world is so weird right now. It kinda feels like its falling down around me. Do you feel that way? Its a goddamned pandemic, our plague, and people are dropping like flies. So far, my family has been lucky. That could change in an instant.  I'm a nurse and work for a large university hospital in Kentucky and we are all preparing for this impending surge of patients in respiratory distress. I'm lucky in a way, because I won't have to care for many of these patients. Mostly what I will likely see are patients who are being tested for COVID.  If they were to test positive, they would quickly transferred to another unit.I work on an oncology unit and we are being diligent about keeping COVID positive folks away from these immune compromised folk. I also have to try to protect myself and my family (including an 11 year old and a baby) so that I can continue to come to work and be helpful at home. My wife is a nurse too. You never know who has what because it takes several weeks to incubate and some folks have no symptoms. The hospital is on lock down (no visitors), so that helps. I wear a mask into patient rooms, but how long can I do that? Don't want to be wasteful and honestly, after 12 hours in a mask I don't feel good. When we get home from work, we enter through the garage, strip naked and go upstairs. I then wipe down my phone, watch and glasses with bleach wipes and take a hot shower. I used to only wash my hair a few times a week but now I wash it every day I'm at work. We don't wear shoes throughout the house anymore. It all stays by the front door (work shoes in the garage), preferably in the closet. Everything in the house gets a bleach wash every few days, especially door knobs and hard surfaces. We open mail and packages with gloves and dump the contents out on a safe surface. We don't kiss the baby on the face.  We don't share food with the kids. Wash, wash, wash. Its. Fucking. Exhausting.

My little family is determined to stay home as much as is possible, with the exception of grocery shopping, the pet store and pharmacy. And we limit those as much as possible. We have lots of non-perishables at the house but we have to go every few weeks for perishables, fresh veggies, etc. In fact, I'm going this morning when I get off of work. I'll be wearing a mask my dear friend from college made me. I'm so thankful for it.

College students are still packing their apartments on the weekends having parties, acting invincible. So many people out and about driving around town acting like its normal springtime. Not enough people are isolating or respecting social distancing. If you are one of these people that just don't believe or take the time to understand the importance of it, what is wrong with you?? Healthy people are dying? Why take a chance? Why be an accomplice?

I am not ashamed to admit, I'm definitely self medicating. Aren't you? Its kind of pointless because half the week I'm at work and the other half I have the baby and can't fix a cocktail until my wife gets home. By then I'm so damn tired, I have to really work to be awake enough to make it worth it. But you can bet your bottom dollar that I am making the time, honey. Its just a brief and partial reprieve from the constant stresses of this new reality. Know what I really want? I want to pack up my family and drive home to WV. I want to see those blooms on those hills. I'll just have to go there in my mind.

All this to say: Are you ok? How are you getting through this difficult, weird time? How can I help you? How can we help each other from 6-10 feet?

National Lampoons Beach Vacation

9/27/17: I wrote this a few years ago before our last trip to the beach with dad. It ended up being a fairly rough week for dad. He had just finished 10 days of whole brain radiation, leaving him burned from the neck up, bald and fairly miserable. His mouth, eyes and scalp really hurt. Mom had a hard time keeping him comfortable. He was really dizzy, loosing a lot of fluid by way of urine. It was hard to keep his fluids up and pain managed. We all fretted over him all week. But there were some good moments too. I'll talk about those another time. So here's this pre-vacation, optimistic post about my favorite vacation spot. Its weird for me to read it as I was a very different person.
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6/30/15:  After a particularly rough water week at Nags Head, NC, my parents decided not to return. I got stuck in a rip tide and dad had to come and help me to safety. When you get caught in a rip tide you have to swim with the direction of the water until you make it back to shore.  It took a while. Luckily, dad was young and healthy and a damn good swimmer. But we both got beat up pretty good. That was the turning point for my parents. Vacation shouldn't be deadly. The following fall of 1988, Dad was mentioning the dilemma of where to go to the beach to a friend and they mentioned Sunset Beach, NC.

Over the years, we’ve collectively tried various locations and situations for our beach vacation. We’ve been to Pawley’s Island, Edisto Beach, Holden Beach, Duck, Carolina Beach and Rodanthe. We have had cousins, aunts, uncles and grand parents join us. In the end, there is only one place we want to plant our asses for a week: Sunset Beach, NC. Sunset is our home away from home. Its kicked back and anything you can't get on the island, you can get on a short car ride inland.

There are some specific things I'd like to describe for you in list form, in no particular order.

1. The Island Market: There's something about the smell of this place. It smells like salt, AC, and sunscreen. Always moderately friendly folks behind the counter. Always an ample supply of junk food, cheer wine/sundrop and t-shirts. 

2. The Sunset Beach Pier: Its old, ya'll. Its probably been rebuilt many times and it ain't fancy. Plenty of room for all the fisher-folk and their gear at any time of the day. And don't tell my mom, but you can buy beer by the can and junk food. 

3. The worlds last swing bridge: They built a new fancy bridge and retired the swing bridge back in 2010. They were smart, though and made it into a museum just off the island.  But if you never had a chance drive over it when it was in service, you missed out on lines of well dress, slightly burned, just starvin' folks in cars, waiting patiently to exit the island to go get some rockin' seafood platters on the mainland. And lets not forget the sound, that "kachunk-kachunk, kachunk-kachunk" as your car drove over the bumps of the old bridge. During high tide, the middle of the bridge would be elevated. If you were driving too fast? Airborne. 

4. Julie's Sweet Shop and Rentals: When I was a kid, half of this place was an old school arcade. Complete with rockin' tunes, dirty floors and barefoot, unattended kids in bathing suits. In recent years, its just a beach rental place and ice cream shop. This place is a true beach shack, probably held together with particle board and staples. We love it though. Tons of little kids sitting on the outside benches with way too huge servings of melting ice cream falling on the ground to the waiting, swarming ants in the sand. As far as rentals go though, I'd probably recommend someplace else. The bikes are pretty rough, the prices are a bit too high and if you go over to Yelp for a review, its not pretty. Other off-island places will still deliver to Sunset, with better customer service. You're welcome. (Update: This place was just a shell after years of termites. It is now just a little shack where you can rent a bike. The sweets be gone, but not the memories.)

5. Kathy: My mom is the baddest of the beach bitches on the block. Mom's been spear heading trips to the beach for most of my 35 years. Some have been better than others, but that's just part of the adventure. She would have that brochure in hand by January and would spend days scouring the pages for the perfect rental house. She would spend the spring counting the days, watching Summer Rental, getting a box ready with staples for the kitchen, planning the route, etc. It was a hunting and gathering extravaganza.  And somehow, for years and years, we made this trip, 3 then 4 of us, usually in a 4 door sedan. That's right, mom didn't move up to a larger vehicle until I was in high school. We are master packers, apparently. And when it came to loading the car, that's something I can only compare to putting the lights up on the Christmas tree: painful, yet beautiful.

6. Terry: My dad knows how to slow his life down for a week, which is such an important lesson to learn and pass on to my kids. Now that dad has cancer, its a lesson that is coming in very handy.  When we were at the beach, he would sleep in, go for long walks around the island, play in the water with us and go hunt up the best fresh seafood for dinner. In his younger days, back up on the Outer Banks, he'd rent a para-sail or water ski and ride the sound to his hearts content. Once or twice, he went hang gliding in the dunes of Kitty Hawk. He has many more adventures in store.

I realize that you can't have Terry and Kack for your vacation, but they wrote the book and I want to share their secrets. Here are the

• Vacation isn't always perfect, nor should it be.
• Its good to get the hell out of town. Staycations are very popular because travel can be expensive, but its so good for your head to get in a new space. There is a place for you at the right price, just keep looking. You don't have to spend alot of money for it to be meaningful.
• Some people can't sit still on vacation. This isn't a feeling I can relate to, personally. The journey is so long, I just want to sit still when I arrive. But everyone has their own ideas of how vacation should go. Do you. 
• Eat and drink what the hell you want.

Leo

Leo and Marilyn showed up at the hospital just as Mom and I were coming back from the cafeteria with our bland hospital food. We didn't even want to eat but it was a distraction, something to do while Dad was down in a procedural area. They were trying to tap some fluid off of his lungs for comfort.

We were coming off the elevator and there they were. I think we were both a bit crestfallen. We'd had so many visitors and just wanted a few minutes of quiet. But here we were. We went into this little silent meditation room with quilts on the walls and comfortable chairs. Marilyn is an old college friend of my Mom's. They lived together for a while after graduation and stayed close throughout the years. My memories of Marilyn are mostly of her long visits with us in the summer to get away from her husband, Leo. Somehow they prevailed.

We hugged and sat down and mom and I attempted to eat while explaining Dad's condition: cancer was everywhere, moving to comfort care. Mom was so polite, asking about the kids. Leo sat in the back, smug with his arms crossed. Not participating in the conversation but waiting. He was waiting for his moment. When it came, he crossed the room to sit near us and began to witness about how some shoulder injury was healed by the power of prayer. Folks, I don't object to any one's religion, do you. But I'm an oncology nurse and my dad was actively dying and from my experience, the lord can't fix metastatic melanoma just yet. I couldn't believe that I was sitting there listening to this bull shit. This visit by Leo was all about Leo, not about my Dad. I kept looking over at mom to gauge her reaction and she just kept looking at her food and questioning Leo about what exactly his intentions were. From what I could decipher from his ten minutes of bullshit was that he wanted was to attempt a fucking faith healing on my Dad. I was seeing white, hot rage. Mom was highly offended but was so polite. She told Leo that we didn't need a faith healing but instead requested continued prayer for dad's comfort. I was fucking rude and told him we weren't interested.

I saw them roll my dad back to the room so I had an excuse to leave.  I was so upset and crying, I just went to the end of the hallway and waited until they visited with dad a bit. I managed to walk back to give Marilyn a hug when they were leaving, didn't give Leo a glance. She was really apologetic and I told her how I felt. What I told her was that when family is suffering, you show up to be there, not to put on a goddamned show. Marilyn knew that, she's good people. But she's married to Leo and she lets him wear the pants. Her choice.

When they left, Mom and I kind of had a silent moment to catch our breath.  Puffing away on her e-cig, mom watched Marilyn and Leo walk in silence to their car and drive away. I joined her.  We were just like, "what the hell was that?" She said she was proud of me for speaking my mind. I said, "what an asshole." But I wasn't sure if I was talking about Leo or me.

Later that evening mom pulled out an envelope Marilyn handed mom before they left. In it was a really sweet letter and $1,000. Mom didn't need their money. So she handed it to me and my sister. We all had a good chuckle. Anytime we bought something with it we'd say "thanks Leo!"

Go piss up a rope, Leo.

This is me.

This is me. This is me forcing myself to write something. This is me forcing myself to take some time for me. This is me allowing myself to feel ok today.

I've had this blog a long ass time. I haven't written anything down for two years. Its been a long, hard two years. I'm not saying my life has been in shambles, but its been hard.

In the last two years, I've gotten divorced and remarried. My dad, grandfather and grandmother died. Then a shocker last summer when my SIL's husband died. Myself and bebe have moved three times. Some reality TV putz was somehow elected president and is making a mockery of our country, undoing a lot of good things the previous did. There is violent political turmoil. So much so that my wife started having panic attacks. My job is literally killing me, I'm overweight and have hypertension. I've reached a point at work where I never wanted to be: Dead Inside. This is someone who changed her whole life around and took on thousands of dollars in debt to do this job, but its a constant disappointment. Love the work and my patients, but don't love the politics. I don't think I've experienced more disillusionment and depressive episodes in my life than I have this year so far. Fuck!

I feel constant judgement from my former partner and his family. I was never sure if it was real or in my head, but now I know its definitely real. And that all recently came to a head when, granted, I made a really dumb decision. And I made it based on my inability to communicate with him/them or my wife. I won't go into details about that decision but it made for a really terrible week in my family's life that I'd like to forget. But I won't forget it because it kind of brought me back online as a human, wife and mother. All this life trauma has had me in a bit of a fog. I've been unable to be present. I've failed myself, my kid, my wife, my family. I've been unable to create a damn thing; not a pie, granny square or drawing. Including a few simple words on this blog.  I have so many stories to share, but can't get them through the mud for a clear, simple tale. All this has left me as a person with no outlet. All humans need some way to get it all out and I felt like I'd lost it.

I'm digging myself out. Day by day. Up and out of the damn hole. Life is hard sometimes, then it gets better. Then it gets hard again, then better again.  That's just how life is, right? That's what I tell my kid.

I need to tell myself too.

Lost Summer

This summer is a blur. I drove so many times back and forth to WV from KY, I can't even give you a number or play by play. I've tried writing many, many versions of a post about it. But I no longer feel the need to write details. That information is a part of me. It all pretty much sucks. 

Here is the heart of it, though. My dad had melanoma. By the time they found it toward the end of June, it was in his brain. He received one dose of IV therapy and ten doses of whole brain radiation. The cancer progressed despite these efforts. Over time he got weaker and more short of breath as the cancer took over his brain and his lungs. In August, he left this mortal coil. 

My dad was a big, strong guy. We believe it is his strength, after years of working construction and his natural build, that helped him to live as long as he did with the cancer. It helped his body mask the signs and symptoms that we are only now looking back to make note of. 

My dad was the guy.  He was the ultimate defender of the underdog. Protector of his family. He would do anything for anyone. He was the guy you could call who knew the guy who could do that random thing (you know, if he couldn't do it). He was always game for anything. He'd build you a piece of furniture, help you hang Christmas lights, sell girl scout cookies, or pick you up some maxi pads. Want some homemade spaghetti when you come home? He'll go to Sam Minardi's house to buy some homemade sausage and then this mic from Charleston Ave would make you the best red sauce you'd ever had. Anything mom ever wanted done to the house, he'd find a way to do. He was there. You could count on him. He lived life right. His kindness did result in his getting his ass kicked a few times professionally, but he always recovered and persevered. And in many cases he was forgiving. When mom was going through her dark days, dad filled in all the gaps as best he could. He wasn't perfect, of course, but he was perfect for us. 

The most recurring thought that comes to mind is "how can this be?"  But it is. We are all dealing with it as best we can. I've never experienced grief like this. It can break you apart, like pieces of a puzzle.  And then slowly, piece by piece, you put yourself back together. But there'll always be that piece missing, the one near the heart that you will never stop looking for. 

On Cancer

On Saturday I got a call from home. My sister is home visiting in WV, like she always does in the summer. Dad had been acting weird and spacey and hadn't been talking.  This is very unlike dad. He's a talker, always working on the perpetual to do list, always cracking jokes.  Lately all he could get out was the occasional smile. But he just kept silent and was very tactile, constantly feeling and touching things like the trim around the door. Mom had to go up to his office to make a copy of her drivers license. Mom asked dad which button to push to make the copy and he kept pushing the power button off.  She would turn it back on and say "No, which button do I push to make a copy" and dad would push the off button again.  Baby sister was actually ready to walk out the door to go to camp as a counselor for the week, but after watching Dad told mom she wasn't going.  So mom called his primary doctor and described his behavior and they concluded he may have had a mini stroke related to being recently shocked out of his chronic afib recently.  He said to go to WVU where his cardiologist is. So mom and baby sister packed dad up in the car and drove the 30 min to Morgantown. In the ED, if you mention anything about chest pain or anything heart related, they have you on an exam table faster than you can say "Go Mountaineers!"  They drew labs and they scanned him head to toe. But they didn't find anything heart related. Nope. They found masses on his brain and lungs and lesions on the pancreas and liver. What the fuck.

Baby sister called me once the docs came in and shared their findings. They immediately had internal medicine, neuro and oncology see him. It took until about 2AM to get him admitted, finish scanning him, and get some sort of plan in place. I was out on a date with my lady and some other friends for their anniversary. It was a surreal evening. I think I was just in shock. At some point, sister's text said "come home" and mine said "I'll be there tomorrow." 

I don't know if I slept at all that night. My lady had to work the next day, so once she headed out I dragged my ass out of bed, threw some things in a laundry basket and drove north. I averaged 90-95 the whole way. I was in Morgantown in 5 hours.  Longest 5 hours of my life. I was still getting texts from sister whenever doctors came in. Dad was so quiet when I got there. He just kept looking around and rubbing the sheets and bedside table.  It took him so long to answer questions, to get the words out.  Lots of family were there, made it all easier to bare. 

On Monday morning, they did a puncture lung biopsy. Dad said it was a really bad experience, they didn't medicate him for pain and sedation enough and they yelled at him to hold still. Fuckers. After about 4 long days, they had a result and it was Melanoma.  Stage 4 Melanoma. Dad had a spot on his shoulder in his 30s. The skin doc cut it out super deep and did chest xrays every 6 months for 10 years. 

Cancer of any kind is a sneaky, dirty little bitch.  I am an oncology nurse, so that statement is qualified. When someone gets a diagnosis of stage 4 of any type of cancer, its not good. But somehow, my brain has overridden this knowledge. I have to. This is my dad. I need him alive and in my life. So long as him being alive doesn't result in his suffering.  

The doctors are treating the brain mass as a separate cancer, with whole brain radiation. They are planning on treating the rest systemically with some trial immunotherapy drugs where they rev up the immune system to fight the cancer. Traditional chemotherapy doesn't really work on melanoma, so this is what we have and we are going to go for it. These treatments aren't going to cure dad, but they might give him time and comfort. I can't really allow myself to think beyond that. In fact, I'm fairly emotionally shut down, which I think is a result of being an oncology nurse for two years. Its protective. 

What I have found comforting over the last week is the support friends and family have shown by showing up at the hospital, sending cards and love and prayers on social media. I'm not a believer, but I'll take a prayer or the sending of good energy any day of the week. It helps everyone involved. I'm really thankful this week for those things. For nurses with a good sense of humor. For my ex-husband being so extremely supportive and keeping the monkey all week. For my partner coming to be by our side. I am so incredibly proud of my mom for being so strong and finding her focus so she can keep going.  I'm also proud of my baby sister.  She sent text after text of medical jargon and she nailed it every time. She was able to see the critical nature of the situation, give up a fun week away, and help mom decide to get dad to the ED. She was mom's rock. 

And then there's my dad. He's taken in all of this incredibly confusing and heartbreaking information this week and still decided to go through with this fight. I've seen him come back to life with the help of some steroids. I've seen his sense of humor and personality come back through, that zest for life. He's even working a few hours a day. He's a tough cookie.  

Summer Vacation Destination: NC

 

I've always thought that summer vacation should be at least 2 weeks long.  I'd stay in a less fancy beach house if it meant we could be there for 2 weeks instead of one. But alas, my mother still pays this bill so I don't get to decide. Mumsy simply must have a space that is pleasing to both eye and soul, so alas, one week it is. Next year though, 2.

We are doing the same old thang we do every damn year, but with a few alterations. This year I take my lady and we get to teach her all the things about our place. She loves fishing and I'm super stoked to spend every day getting up early with her and the monkey to hit the beach for some surf or pier fishing. Monkey is having a hard time with the idea of her daddy not being there. I think she will be OK by the time we actually get in the car to start the road trip. He'd just be on the computer all week anywho.  And who knows, maybe by next year he'll come along with all of us. That's what I'm working towards, staying a family.

Meanwhile, I'll start stock piling sun screen, hats, towels, flippy flops and fishing stuff. Next up, all the reasons why we love this beach and can't seem to steer away from it. Ever.

Summer Break is Upon Us

My ex and I totally blew it when we realized, with only weeks of school to go, that we had NOTHING planned for the monkey when school is out. Since forever, and until kindergarten started, we had preschool/daycare. I'm off 2-3 days of the week, depending on whether or not I work weekends, but the rest? The in-laws would only commit to one day a week, but we had to figure the rest out. Luckily there's the very expensive YMCA camps and we are signing her up for 4 weeks of those. It will be loads of fun for the monkey and she will make some new friends. Also, the in-laws are helping with some of the cost. We also signed up for the public pool, so that will help. Here's hoping the water isn't cold all summer...and that monkey and I don't get kicked out for shenanigans. What are you doing with your monkeys this summer? 

One Year Lease

On March 27th, I moved out of the family home. The home where we brought our daughter to from the hospital when she was born, the one I painted multiple times, the one I tried to decorate, the one I cooked many Christmas cookies in, welcomed family and friends, planted flowers, celebrated birthdays and hanged pictures in. Going back to the house since then has been real tough. If I have to spend a significant amount of time there, I spin into a dark hole that is difficult to climb out of. I just cry and cry.  Luckily I have some wonderful people in my life that I can just text and help me climb my way back out. It will get easier over time.

This brings us to my apartment. Two bed, one bath, eat in kitchen and a living room. It’s in an old apartment in an old neighborhood. It’s on a dead end street with a bunch of cute old houses.  To turn left from my street, I have to cross a busy four lane road.  There’s a hospital one block away so we hear every ambulance that drives up. We also live a block away from the fire department in the other direction, so we hear them too. There’s some asshole that honks every morning at 6am as he turns the corner (makes me feel like Andy Farmer and the crazy mail man in Funny Farm).  The neighbors to our left have like 6 dogs that although we’ve lived here 2 months, all bark at us in a frenzy even though they see us every fucking day.  They bark at everything. They bark at the wind.

This is an old house that was built in the 40s and divided into a duplex in the 70s.  Hard wood floors, an adorable (non-functioning) fireplace and mantle, all original windows and a somewhat shitty kitchen. When I looked at the apartment the first time, it had this big awkward island that the owner agreed to have some contractor re-do because it took over the whole damn kitchen. But the counters they put in were put together with bits of glue and cardboard. So much nickle and dime shit up in here. But they put in some new kitchen flooring to replace the shitty old shiny laminate. Of course, it’s super white and textured so it shows all the dirt.  This place was described as having “central air”, but of course it doesn’t push all the way to the second floor. Let’s just say I have a new appreciation for window AC units. 

This place also has a basement! It leaks when it rains. Like little rivers from all corners, straight to the sump pump. Also thankful for sump pumps! Every bug you could imagine lives down there and earlier this week I saw a little garden snake on the stairs. The basement is where the washer/dryer hook ups are.  We had to take out one of the counters to get them through the wonderfully designed kitchen and to the door to the basement. I’m hiring movers when we leave this bitch.

All of this aside, I have made it really homey for me and the Monkey.  She and I painted her room pepto pink, hanged curtains and pics and just jazzed her room up. I’ve not done much with my room but hang some photos. I decided not to paint over the beige walls. They remind me of sand at the beach and go well with my art. Also, I’m tired of painting. Did I mention I painted the entire first floor? I did and it’s a fabulous shade of light grey that really made everything feel fresh.

I’m good with calling this place home-sweet-home…for one year. One. Year.

Molly out.