Staying Afloat

I have been working very hard the past few months to get my life back on track. These are terrible times we live in economically, personally and globally. Yesterday there was an orchestrated terrorist attack on 6 separate areas in Paris, France. What is this world coming to? Living through so much grief, betrayal and pain has undoubtedly made me stronger than ever. I am only human, like everyone else. But sometimes I feel I've reached a point of numbness. I'm finding it hard to trust many people. I am unwilling to put up with anyone's expectations or judgments of me and my life. I have, for too many years now, put others needs, feelings, and expectations above my own. I am fiercely dedicated to my children, especially my 3 sons. We still live together and it is very cramped and we get on each others' nerves. But we know that we have to stick together and work hard to improve our situation. I do feel confident that we are on the cusp of better days. Everyone is working and basically healthy. I feel it would benefit us to go to group counseling to try to deal with all the feelings of anger, betrayal and the damage it's done to each of us. But we're not ready yet. I wish I could punch my husband in the face for the damage he has done to his sons. It is still incomprehensible to me how he could just walk away from them after all he put them through after all they did for him. He has caused them mental trauma that will not soon be forgotten or forgiven, if ever. I am grateful that my oldest, my daughter, has lived in another state the entire time this has gone on. She is luckier than us. I miss my life and my family. Everything has been shattered and just trying to piece our lives back together a teensy bit at a time is a daily struggle. Just last month my father died. He had been in very poor health for many years. Dementia was the thief that robbed him of himself and his health. The last couple of years he had to undergo dialysis 3 days per week, too. He was in a local nursing home, but I couldn't bring myself to go see him in his last months. Actually, the last time I visited him was right after my sister Teri died in 2013. My brother Robert, who passed away in 2014, was in from California. So I took him for a visit with Dad. It was beautiful, sad, poignant and heart-wrenching. Afterwards I knew I would not step foot in that place again. And I didn't. When I heard that my father passed I was so happy that he had been released from his living hell. If he didn't have dementia he would not have wanted to live like that. It was just torture. He was 86 years old. He was reunited with my mother, who died the day I was born 54 years ago. So I continue to navigate through this grief that began in September 2013 with Teri dying, continuing on to August 2014 with Robert dying, and now full circle in October 2015 with my Dad dying. All the while trying to wade through a life ravaged by my husband of 31 years abandoning us, bankruptcy, losing our home, health problems, financial woes, and trying to remain a good, strong decent mother. I don't falter when it comes to my children. My hope is that each of my sons will be able to stand on their own two feet without my constant support. But right now, we're just trying to keep our heads above water. Their father was weak and abandoned me and them. I won't, and they know it. The next time I write I hope to have stories of happiness, new milestones, and success for each of us. I know it's out there.

Too Much Pain

So where do I start now? So much pain...too much pain. It shocks my senses. Since I last blogged I have gone bankrupt, my husband abandoned us and moved himself to North Carolina, I've moved twice...on June 1st and again on November 30th, I injured my right knee quite badly in July (partial ACL tear, 2 meniscus tears, LCL sprain with avulsion fracture) and was out of work for over 6 weeks (and still facing surgery that I keep putting off), my brother Robert died on August 22nd, and I lost my home to a short sale in October. NO SHIT! I'm living in a 2 bedroom trailer with my 3 grown sons and living paycheck to paycheck. I could have never, ever in a million years foreseen all these events. I have cried more tears than I could ever imagine. Yet every morning I wake up, get up and put a smile on my face and my best foot forward and try to keep moving forward. My husband, who WE saved after his brain tumor in 2008, who recovered pretty well from his brain tumor, but never tried for one minute to work at feeling better and never returned to work again...decided he no longer had to be a partner in our 30 year marriage, no longer had to be a father to our children and and because he didn't want to live through another harsh winter...just picked up and left. He decided that only he mattered. That only what he went through mattered. He decided that he would pretend that he retired and fucked us over. His brothers helped him get an apartment, helped him move and have lent him money to furnish a 2 bedroom, 2 level condo on a golf course in New Bern, NC., even though he had a big house full of tons of furniture that I had to either sell, give away or throw away. Not once did his brothers or their wives contact me. Not once did they consider my feelings or those of my sons. They just took it upon themselves to help him run away from the life he completely decimated here. And Rich took my dog, Ranger, my Hungarian Vizsla, the only light we had in our lives since this started, with him, because I had no idea where I would end up. And my husband did not care where I ended up. Nor does he care. And I can't have a dog where I am. I will never forgive him or his brothers or their wives. This I promise...they are dead to me. Deader than my dead sister and my dead brothers. They are horrible, hypocritical people who deserve to rot in Hell. I will spit in their faces if I ever lay eyes on them again. I know there are better days ahead for me. I have to believe this or I could not go on. I hope it won't be so long until the next time I return to this blog. Trying to get through such overbearing and overwhelming pain and feelings of hate and loss and failure is something I'm not accustomed to dealing with. But I have survived and I will survive. I am a survivor! I am well rid of a useless excuse for a human being that did not know the meaning of the phrase "Man up." It should be re-phrased to "Woman up!" At 54 years old I now start my life over. Wish me luck.

Life and Death

Life: So now almost another six months have gone by since my last post. It's funny how we take for granted that we have all the time in the world. Or maybe I just take time for granted...I don't know. The summer was filled with the most fun I have had in eons. Me and Rich took a trip to California! Getting on a plane and flying 3,000 miles away was beyond cathartic. Looking back, I wished then as I wish now...that I never had to come home. We arrived in San Francisco and my brother, Robert met us at the airport. We stayed in a very old, kitchy hotel at the gates of Chinatown...the Hotel Astoria. It was quite an experience! Robert couldn't believe the hotel and kept telling us that we had the absolutely biggest hotel room there is in San Francisco. It consisted of a very large bathroom, a bedroom and a fairly large living room area. It was perfect...and cheap, too. Robert took us all over on his whiplash tours...Crookedest Road...The Grubstake...Pier 39...Union Square...Little Henry's...200 miles up and down the California coast. In between me and Rich explored on our own...cable cars...BART...even a San Francisco Giants game where Rich was a big hit in his Knicks tee shirt. On our sixth day Robert picked us up and drove 150 miles to his home in Mokelumne Hill. Way up high on a mountain...you have to experience Scream Like a Girl Hill to really appreciate it. We enjoyed the laid back, hippie-like atmosphere. We got to explore Big Trees National Park and a Gold mining town. Robert's partner Russ and Russ's brother Kevin were our trusty compatriots during this vacation, along with some memorable characters from the mountain...especially Dewey. But all too soon it was time to go home and back to real life and work.
Death: No one knows when their time will be up...when their life will be over. I wish that I had more time to prepare for death, but it snuck up...like a thief in the night. The Tuesday after Labor Day I was in my office working when my cell phone pinged that I had a text message. It was from my sister, Teri. She wrote that she was in St. Luke's Hospital in Newburgh...in the ICU. I texted her back that I could leave work. She texted me back that I didn't have to. I texted her back that I was coming. She texted me back "OK." That's how I knew it was bad. Teri O'Keefe-Fox would have been 47 years old on November 21st. But after three long, horrible weeks in the ICU, she died on September 24, 2013 from multiple organ failure due to complications from Sepsis. At first they thought she had pneumonia but tests later revealed Wegener's Vasculitis and it caused severe damage to her lungs. This was not Teri's first diagnosis of Vasculitis. In 1987 she lost her kidneys to this horrible disease. She was lucky to have received a kidney transplant from our mother. And when that one failed, another kidney transplant from our baby sister, Jeni. It was this past summer that marked 20 years since that transplant. In those years Teri married, had a daughter and then a son, went to college and grad school and became a teacher, traveled and cultivated a lifelong love of Walt Disney World. She lived more in her 46 years then 3 people that age put together. I guess she knew her time would be shortened. But she was told she would recover from this Vasculitis. It would be a very, very long recovery. But a week into her stay in the ICU her bowel perforated. This set in motion a devastating chain of events...a deadly chain. Sepsi...horrible...demeaning...uncontrollable...invaded every nook and cranny of Teri's body until it killed her. I think her death was preventable. I know people will say it's just my grief talking, but Teri keeps nagging me in my brain. She shouldn't have died. This is something for another time, though. It's been 6 weeks since my sister died. I can hardly type it, let alone say it out loud without choking up. Nothing feels normal. I feel lost...like I don't belong anywhere anymore. It's so frustrating and maddening and sad. And once again my blog has gotten away from being what I wanted it to be...just a place where I could bitch about my husband's brain tumor and never ending and ongoing after-effects. How I wish it was just about that!

It's Been A Long Time

I have got to stop letting so much time go by without blogging. It's been such a long, long winter. Spring doesn't seem to want to stay for more than a day or so, either. I last wrote before Christmas, at the time of the Newton, CT school shooting. Last month there was a bombing near the finish line at the Boston Marathon. These shootings and killings must make sense to the people who plan them and carry them out, but to us non-violent people, they make no sense. I just don't know how you can be a martyr by murdering a defenseless child. I don't want to know how someone can justify that in their own mind. I'm as tired as always...maybe even more than usual. I've been trying to walk more, eat less and make healthier food choices. But I still feel crappy. I don't like anything about the age I'm at (52). So I just get up everyday and go to work and do what I have to do. But I feel lost. Like something is missing. Rich had his hand surgery and now goes to physical therapy twice a week. Time will tell as to how much range of motion he'll get back, if any. But at least his pinky finger isn't bent completely in half anymore. He loves his life of just puttering around the house, not having to do anything of any real importance or that makes a difference in any one's life. I always have the weight of the world on my shoulders and he doesn't seem to have a care in the world. I have to make a real effort to try not to say ANYTHING he disagrees with because I'm not allowed to have an opinion. He has become so argumentative with me that I just try to stay away from him as much as possible. A few weeks ago I got really sick and while I was taking the prescribed Amoxicillin, I became allergic to it! Then I had a Prednisone shot and nine days of Prednisone pills. This made me even more anxious and hormonal than ever before. The fact that I did not kill my husband is a testament to my fortitude and patience. I said above how I am non-violent...but during this time I really felt like I could "Snap." So now as we head towards summer, I'm praying for peace and stability in my home, and everywhere else on Earth!

December Sadness

It's not unusual to feel down this time of year. We're supposed to feel happy and excited all the time, but in reality, the holidays can be overwhelming. Halloween came and went with Hurricane Sandy. The power of nature and the devastation was humbling. Where I live, near Poughkeepsie, NY, we were very lucky and spared from the worst of it. But all around us, others were not so lucky. They are struggling today, even. Thanksgiving is always so much work for me. But it's my favorite holiday, so it really is a labor of love. Having my kids and my sister's family here and just enjoying being with each other is a joy. But since Thanksgiving I haven't been able to get any of my energy back. I feel exhausted and in pain in every joint in my body. Sleep is as elusive as ever. The For Sale sign is still on  my lawn, but I am happy to still be in my home. My husband hasn't been able to move his right pinky for some time now--it's bent in half. Turns out he'll need surgery to fix it. I never heard of Dupuystren's -- but he's got it. He meets the surgeon tomorrow morning to find out all the details and whatnot. This past Friday I took a vacation day from work with the intent to drive up to Oneonta and bring my son, Ryan, home from college for his Christmas break. But it turned out that my other sons, Rich & Sean, decided they would get him. It was also my niece, Jenn's, 18th birthday and it was pretty nice outside, too. I was delighted to have a real "vacation" day to myself and decided I would do a marathon of Christmas shopping and then meet my husband and his brother at Double-O for drinks and apps. I relaxed in the morning and had just posted on my Facebook the above-mentioned plans. Not a half hour later a breaking news report came on TV about how Newtown, CT schools were in a lockdown with reports of shots fired. I turned the TV off and got ready and then went shopping. In my car, I listen to satellite radio...no commercials or news...just E Street radio and holiday music stations. So when I got to the restaurant, I was floored to see what had happened in Newtown. All around me people were stunned. The media, meanwhile, couldn't get their facts straight and were even interviewing the little school children. I was disgusted! There is no journalism anymore...just sensationalism. Me and Sean and Ryan went to the Palisades Mall on Saturday.  I couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension in being in such a big, open place and being vulnerable to anything. I saw people that looked just like me. I saw people that made me wonder if they were the one that was going to go off today. It felt very much like September 12, 2001. Man's inhumanity to man is unfathomable. I can understand people being down and angry...but kill yourself and leave everyone else alone. What a coward to just randomly ruin so many lives! It's just heartbreaking and sickening. In the middle of the night last night, I woke up feeling nauseous, with abdominal pains shooting down my right leg. I felt like I was going to throw up. So I went into the bathroom, but didn't throw up. But while I was in there, contemplating why I was feeling the way I was, I could hear water running. I figured Richie's toilet downstairs was running. I was so annoyed and went to check, but it wasn't running. I noticed that in my laundry room it was very hot and I thought that I could smell gas from the furnace. Then I started to feel panicky, thinking something was wrong and that might be why I was feeling ill. Before I left for work this morning, I told my husband that I felt like I was going to throw up and then I told him about my night. He said he would call the guy to come and clean the furnace. I got to work and the first thing I was told was that my boss had called in sick because she was throwing up all night. I thought, oh crap, stomach bug! I always say "You know it's Christmas when everyone is throwing up." So I figured that was that, and hoped I'd make it through the day. I nibbled on some salty pretzels around 11:00 a.m. or so, and hoped it would help. But waves of nausea kept washing over me. Around noon, my husband called and he was in a panic. He said I needed to come home right away. He didn't know what to do. I thought that maybe there was something terribly wrong with our furnace and hot water heater. He told me that the town was at our house. When the repairman was in the house for the furnace, he discovered that he, too, could hear rushing water, but it wasn't IN the house. So he called the town and they came out and so now they knew that there must be a broken pipe somewhere on our property. They had to leave to get some equipment they needed and Rich wanted me to be home when they got back. If it was our problem, homeowners insurance would not cover it. I felt terrible leaving my co-workers, but I didn't feel well either, so I went home. The next couple of hours were tense and the town had to cut a hole through my driveway...all the while I was fighting the nausea...I dozed off here and there. Finally, they were done for today, They have to come back tomorrow morning to determine where the water is actually going. But it looks like the problem is going to be the town's responsibility to fix. Of course, it's going to be a mess for us, no matter what. I'm still nauseous, but still haven't thrown up. Tomorrow has to be a better day for all of us. I'm praying for some sleep for me and to feel better, not worse. I'm praying for Newtown, CT. I don't know how they'll ever feel better and move on. I just don't know anything, I guess. I pray for Peace on Earth, too.

Life Happens Fast!

So much happens in between blogging. Good, bad, ugly, life, death and everything imaginable. Life happens so fast, it's hard to catch up and catch your breath sometimes. Since the last time I was here, my two younger sons have gone off to college. They are doing great and having a blast. It makes me happy, but the first week or so, I was moody and miserable. Now it's kind of exhilarating having the remote control all to myself. I started another new job in our school district. I now work in the Transportation Dept. Despite being cursed at and abused by parents of students pretty much on a daily basis...I love it! I work with wonderful people and you really feel like you are working together to accomplish something great & crazy at the same time. I got a new car in September, a 2012 Nissan Rogue. I love it. Believe it or not, it's been in the body shop since Monday being repaired. I should have it back on Friday. I didn't have that car for 48 hours when someone ran into it in the parking lot at my new job! No, it wasn't hit by a bus. I'm thankful that the woman who hit it came in and owned up to it. It sucked, but it will be good as new again. We put our house on the market in September, not because we want to move or down-size, but because it costs too much and since my husband's brain tumor was discovered in 2008, he has never worked again. Our income has decreased dramatically and, of course, the economy sucks & the recession drags on and on. I don't like people walking around my house, picturing themselves living in it. I really hate it, actually. I got my flu shot a couple of weeks ago. I must have been coming down sick, but didn't know it. The next day I was in excruciating pain and long story short, I just finished 10 days of the antibiotic Cipro. Did not like it at all. Still feeling crappy & sluggish but mostly pain-free. One day last week I was looking through my Facebook photos when it dawned on me that since being put on Prozac in the summer of 2011, I look completely different! My weight has gone up, up, up like crazy. Of course I'm aware of that, but I don't even look like the same person. I have not liked Prozac since the first day I started taking it. So, I have just stopped taking it since Sunday. Whatever happens will happen. That I know for sure. That's life.

Family Secrets

You just never know when a family secret is going to come out. Me and my husband will be married 28 years this coming October. In all this time, my husband has always been the youngest of 4 sons. Or so we thought. While attending our nephew's engagement party last Saturday, our son dropped a bombshell on us. Out of the blue he says that if he ever has a secret he will tell it to Rich's oldest (or so we thought!) brother because "that guy REALLY knows how to keep a secret!" I was intrigued and it didn't take much coaxing for him to tell us what he was talking about. Apparently, my son told us, that my husband has a 68 year old brother named George, who lives in California. Holy Crap! This is better than Dallas or Knot's Landing!! This is real life! AND it turns out that Rich's cousins & other relatives like two of his brothers, knew too. One said he knew for about 15 years, for sure, but had suspected something since childhood. Now ... I thought this brother said that their oldest (or so we thought!) brother knew for four years. I said "He knew this for 4 years and never mentioned it?" His brother then said "Not 4 years -- 40 years!" I almost died right there! So now me and my kids are obsessed with trying to find their newly discovered (or so WE thought!) half-uncle George. My husband never knew any of this, or that his father had been married before marrying Rich's Mom and had a son and got divorced. Too much! We all will be following up on this. When we were leaving the party that night, I asked Rich's former oldest brother about why we never heard about George Haan and this is what he said to me "That's a story for another time." Really? He's known for 40 years and is 62 years old himself, my husband will be 56 in October. Seriously...how much longer do we have to wait for this story? Their father passed away in September 1993 and their mom passed away in November 2011 without ever telling them. Why not? My mother-in-law even had the divorce papers in her belongings. How can people keep such secrets? I hope to find out much more. WOW!