Give us a break

Okay, I didn't start this blog to get all political.  That begin said, can I rant for just a minute?  Why doesn't some senator or member of congress take up a cause for me.  I need someone to tell the pharmaceutical companies to GIVE ME A BREAK!  Price is kicking our American public's collective ass.  Did I just mess up that grammar?  Anyways!   So, I need an allergy medication and I go into my cupboard and find not one but two expired allergy medications.  I call the pharmacy to ask if I am going to die today?  They tell me I'm not going to die, however, they lose their effectiveness.  Okay, I ask "how long does it take to degenerate into sugar?"  He said they don't know, they've never studied it.  This is where I need the laws changed.  What I need is for companies to follow through start to finish.  I don't know about anyone else, but, I keep hold of things that cost me a bundle.  I am NOT going to throw out something that has value because someone stamped a date on it.  I know, people should be careful because they could die like this (you should check).  But, I like this allergy medicine (that expired in 2007).  It isn't AS effective but is not worthless either.  They give us an arbitrary date so they can confirm further revenues in their coffers in the future. Their pipeline (so to speak).  They know how much they produced in a given year (say 2005) and in 2007 there has GOT to be a computation somewhere that determines what percentage of people are going to throw it away (because they said so) and repurchase their product.  They should not be allowed this.  During this recession, we all need to tighten our belts. I am certain that the government is the biggest purchaser of medication and should require every single penny out of its investment.  It is fear-mongering and I think our leaders should require them to print a chart with each year showing the degeneration process so two things could happen.  One, is that we don't pollute the earth with flushed and buried pharmaceuticals unnecessarily and two that the American public can have a bit of protection.  Protection of our wallets, protection of our environment, protection of our tax dollars, protection of our health.  If this information was included on the package insert, we as a public would be more knowledgeable and would be better equipped to manage our cupboards.  We'd know which ones to get rid of.  We'd know which have a stable shelf life.  We would be far less likely to keep one that could turn to poison (and possibly hurt our children or ourselves).   Now THAT would be something worthwhile!  How much would that requirement alone save and be able to put towards this massive debt?

How much fun are you to live with?

I read that question in a book once. It helps me see from the other persons eyes.  I've decided that I want to be fun to live with.  I want to bring joy to others lives.  I want to see the relief in their eyes (when I walk in the door) because I am the fun one (not the sad one, not the mad one, not the angry one).  I want them to know how happy I am to see them.  I want them to be happy to see me.  I want them to remember that I was the one that always had a smile on my face.  I want them to remember that always. 



I want you to want me. I need you to need me.  I'd love you to love me!  

What will they say at my funeral?

Removing Emotion

Okay, I admit, this is one of the hardest things I have ever learned how to do.  Emotions don't always serve us.  A lot of times (like right now) it only serves to cloud the issue  and project even more emotion into the situation that is already emotional enough.  I don't even like me when I feel this way!  Do you hear me coming apart at the seams???    

I need to observe my situation.  I need to be real.  No amount of emotion is going to bring me the result I want.  I don't want to be the painful, shriveling, psychotic mess I feel like I am right now.  I don't want to be here anymore. 

Done.  I am strong.  I am willing.  I am going to project only positive into this life and I will not allow the negative (evil) to haunt me.  I will not think of six months down the road.  I will only think of today.  What can I do today? 

Hello, I am Cindy and I am a recovering emotional train wreck.
Hi Cindy!

We all Have Issues

I have issues.  I tell you.  When I am honest and true with myself, I have to admit it.  I have parts of me that are greedy. I want what I want.  How juvenile is that?  Intellectually, I know that things are not always going to go my way.  But, when they don't.  I am disappointed.  Sometimes, I am even mad. 

Steve is only 48 years old.  So, I guess the saying is true that "Only the good die young..."  Grrrrr.. I don't want to hear it!!


Note to self:   What other parts of me am I ignoring, denying or justifying?  How often do I do this? 

I need to consult my sacred witness...

Going Home

Well, here the story begins.  Steve has been in the hospital for 3 weeks.  Today, they are sending him home to die.   Let's begin to pray...

Ann bought him a walker that has a seat.  They had planned a trip to Israel before the heart attack.  She thought it may help him.  It is now truly a trip of a lifetime.  I find it ironic that when all is said and done, when he has passed from this life, all that will be left is the pictures and memories.  His passport, with his picture will be left behind.  His one stamp will be to the Holy Land.  Symbolism?  Perhaps.

Do you think God talks to you throughout the course of your day?  I am writing this blog, listening to music and the song "Testify" by Melissa Etheridge is playing.  "I, I want to testify. My love still lives and breathes and my soul is screaming why?  Thoughts that won't let me sleep.  Don't let hearts break and don't let children cry. Before it gets too late, I want to testify."  That is exactly what I am feeling!  I know that Melissa isn't talking about the same thing I am throughout the whole song.  Just for a minute, just for the chorus.  I am feeling the same way.

When we die, we go to heaven right?  Some people believe we are going home.  My fathers casket said that.  He knew I was close to my native roots and was excited to tell me that he had picked his coffin and there were Eagles on his casket.   I was excited for him and little grateful.  Then, when he passed, I went to the funeral home.  There, I saw, the Seagulls.  Then, in the light blue liner, the words were embroidered "Going Home."

I don't know what Steve is going to want.  I don't dare ask yet.  This information is so new to us. So foreign.  I can't wrap my mind around it.  I want to talk to him in person about that.  I can't wait to see him again. Again, I wonder how much time is left?

Wasting Time

So, Death (for me) is a time of evaluation.  What do I believe?  Why do I believe?  One of the conclusions I have come to is that I have wasted a lot of my time.  Steve has precious time left. None of us knows when the time comes or for whom the bell tolls. No one is privilege to that knowledge.  What will be my legacy? Sorry Dish Network, but, I am considering canceling my subscription.  The sun is in the sky.  The kids are jumping on the trampoline.  What am I contributing to the collective memory?  Will my kids remember Mom watching them on the trampoline?  I think sometimes they will.  Other times I think of all the hours I have spent at my computer working with my husband to keep up to 20 families afloat.  I wasn't there.  I hope they remember me there. I admit, there are times, I have surfed the internet, looking at Google Earth with my husband, or got onto Facebook to catch up with friends.  I should spend more time with my kids.  I should always be making a memory. 

I think this is going to get hard.  I am going to have to travel back and forth.  I'll need the time to transition from helping someone to die and teaching how to live.  Enjoy your life.  Make your memories.  Think what you are putting your energy in. Family and friends.  That's what I am thinking.  How do you thank someone for being in your life?  How do you honor the times you have together?  How do you show your appreciation for the moment you are in?  I hope you feel it from me when you are with me or hear from me.  I am sending out my thoughts and prayers to you and for you.  If I am giving you my time at all shows you that you are important to me and I am thinking of you.  You made it to the inner circle!!  Welcome!

Another of my beliefs is that you take it all with you.  All your memories, all your essence.  We will all stand in our truth.  Our sacred witness will stand with us as the recorded events unfold.  I hope that in this life, I will have made friends.  I will have served my family and friends. I have been blessed.  Not to say I have had a perfect life...but...it was perfect for me to continue my growth.  I hope I make God proud of me.  I have definitely stumbled.  I have moments I'm not proud of.  But, I think God is a loving God and a forgiving God.  If he is "the father" then he forgives when we are human and make human mistakes.  I'm good a being human.  Aren't we all?  We all have the rough spots in ourselves.  We know where they are.   We know how we got here.  I try to learn from my mistakes though.  I do still try hard.  Try to repair and rebuild.  Make beautiful what was once ugly. I want to get the right answers.  I want to have the inner knowing.  I want to be able to say when I stand before my Lord and say "Yes, I did."

Dear Lord, Please help me to recognize opportunities to share a memory or create one and act upon it.  To use all my minutes in my day wisely.  Help me to expel all the demons of irritation.  Help me to be willing participant.  Help me contribute.  Amen

Soundtracks of our Lives

Okay, so I spent the evening (and apparently all night) thinking of the sound tracks of our lives.  We each have one.  I woke this morning, filled my morning cup of coffee, and walked into my office.  No morning news.  No Today show.  I HAD to listen to Paradise by the Dashboard Lights (Meatloaf).  I was thinking that if I could find all the songs I remembered associated with Steve, I could create a playlist and take it when I visit.  Maybe it would allow more memories to be burned into our collective memories.  My mind keeps running round and round.  How many minutes do we have?  How will we fill them?


We all have soundtracks.  Those songs that show up and we can still sing every note (albeit not well :) but we sing with passion with a smile plastered on our faces.  High school reunions play the songs that we danced to on prom night.  Or, (women especially) remembering the song we first made love or danced to at our weddings.  Birth of our children.  Our toddlers dancing to what we are listening to or the song on the radio in the car.  Different songs for different decades.  I love them all.

I have my four decades of favs.  I remember music from the time I was very small. My sister shared a room with me.  She had a radio that I liked to listen to while I played in our room by myself.  One of the earliest songs I remember was Carly Simon, Your So Vain.  I thought it was called "Clouds in My Coffee."  I was three.  What did I know?  I think I was 17 before I knew it's actual title.  Yellow Submarine.  America (several of their songs).  American Bandstand.  Dick Clark.  I could go on and on covering each decade.  Should I?  Does anyone give a shit?  Probably not.

I've decided that when it's my turn to die, I want a party (not a funeral).  I want good food and my soundtrack playing in the background.  That is the one day I'll make them a part of your soundtrack too.

Music is universal.  It affects people.  It certainly has affected me.  I was talking about this just the other day with a friend.  He sent me "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" just for fun one day.  I told him we had this song on a mix of ours that we took out to the lake (with the truck doors open).  We were listening and this guy (a friend of a friend we didn't really know) walked over to our truck.  He climbed up and in and laid across the front seat and cried and cried. When the song was finished, he sat up (tears streaming down his face) and said "I'll give you five dollars if you play it again."  We reached over and ejected the CD and gave it to him ;)  To this day, I don't know his name... 

Squamous Cell Carcinoma

It forces me to depth of my soul that I don't often visit. 

Steve is dying.  We all have to come here.  We all have to meet our maker.  This is a road we will all travel.  Surrounded by our loved ones but ultimately alone.

I'll be there.  I'll hold his hand.  I will remind him of every good thing his has brought to my life.  I will thank him for his presence.  He was present for me.  Whenever I needed him.  One call, that's all.  He was the first man in my life that saw me clearly.  He was the first man in my life that accepted my unconditionally.  He was that one.

He wasn't always a man.  Our families joined when we were kids (5 & 10).  He is 5 years older than me. Now his 48 and I am 43.  Will he make it to 49?  We grew into teens listening to Meatloaf - Paradise by the Dashboard lights as it played over and over on the record player.  He moved into his first apartment and I hid from the world there.  We would drink wine and made "Monster" food (Monster Lasagna, Monster cookies, Monster pizza)  and were blissfully alone.  We listen to his entire record collection or refinish furniture.  We'd laugh until we cried. There we could be ourselves.  There no one bothered us.   Visitors were by invitation only. Total acceptance.  

We have always been there for each other.  He moved south for a more active lifestyle.  That didn't stop us.  He called when he got a new job or a promotion.  He called to dish on the celebrities he waited on in the bar.  I called when I got pregnant (out of wedlock), helped me choose baby names,  and rejoice when the baby was born on his birthday.  I called when my heart was broken from my first real relationship. He told me it would be okay and that there was someone out there that would love me just for me. He told me to wait for it. I took his advice.  He was right.  I met my wonderful husband (of 21 years now).  He called me when his lover died.  He called from the depths of grief and despair his voice hoarse from the the pain that rips through your chest. I said nothing but listened to him mourn.  He called me when he had to put his beloved German Shepard Cody, his child, to sleep and wept. I wept with him. No one cries alone. I called  him when my teens made me cry and I admitted my fears of messing up my kids.  I often called when I needed  another  Monster recipe and to just vent about life in general. He talked me through Christmas Dinner catastrophes and how to salvage my dinners when I messed it up.  So many LOL moments :)   He has always allowed me to see his humanity.  He never hid anything from me.  Good or Bad, Glad or mad we have always done it together.  Now this...

I told him I would be brave and pull up my big girl panties.  He said he was going to pull up his big boy underwear.  Then we cried.

How do you walk someone to  their grave?