Shooing Out 2017!!! Post # 71

 GOODBYE 2017!!! Adios! Au Revoir! Auf Wiedersehen! Adjo! Addio! You get the point! I'm just hoping if it is said in enough languages, then 2017 will pack it up and keep on bookin! When the door of this year slams shut in 4 hours and 35 minutes, I want to make sure it doesn't creep back open!

It hasn't been a bad year per say, at least not for me. 2004 was my year from hell with the

brain injury of my mom, separating after a twenty year marriage, and losing my step mother to a 12 week battle with cancer, all within a 6 month period!   But 2017 has been a hard year! A year of lessons. It was that kind of year that is just plain tough but often sets the tone for peace, harmony, and prosperity for the following years, all because of the new tools added to my tool-belt in a learning year. As a matter of fact, it well may be the year that has laid a very strong foundation for me in many areas. But it was tough and I am tired!

If I was to sum it up by the lessons, it would be this:

• You can't put an oxygen mask on anyone else if you, yourself, are out of oxygen.

• Either manage a project or work in it, but you can't be or do both.

Work hard, but not so hard that your not able enjoy the ride along the way.

Take time to dream!!!  Without dreams, there are no visions.  Without vision, there is no future!  

Never hire people based on their financial needs or convenience, rather only for the needs of the said project/job.

It is not my responsibility to support other people's families.

Sometimes it's okay to micro-manage – even if your not a micro-manager.

Take time for yourself – even when it doesn't seem practical.

• Be careful who you send away. They may go.

• Be careful who you invite in to your life. They may come.

• Be careful what you wish for! You may get it.

• Don't 'over-worry'  that you may get what you wish for. If you are uncertain and it's not immoral, unethical, or illegal, then wish for it!   It may turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to you.                                                                                                          

• 

  Just toss it out the back, Jack!

  But if it's not, be prepared to treat it like a rat and pick it up by the tail and toss it back out the door.                                       
• When overwhelmed with life, pull in the reigns of everything and everyone unnecessary and then choose a few of your most-loved people and passions and engage in them fully. 

• Get rid of.

• Simplify.

• Heave.

• Throw out.

• Did I mention simplify?

• Spend as much time in nature as possible.

• Spend as little time on the computer as possible.

If there is not a portion of time each day when you are doing something you love, stop what your doing and start now!

We only live this life once!

Live, learn, expect to step in a few potholes along the way. But pull yourself back out of them and move on. Most of the things we sweat about, when laying on our death bed thinking about what we would have done differently, would not even be an option. Very few will say, “I wish I watched more TV!” Or, “I wished I spent more time online!” Or, “I wish I was a work-a-holic!” Or, “If only I drank more alcohol or smoked more pot!”

Most would say something like,  “Live and love to the fullest. Live and love passionately! Eat well. Live well. Get rid of all the superficial noise and invest every moment possible in the people and passions you love the most and make sure you have left nothing undone and no good words unspoken.

I am starting 2018 taking that advice; with no regrets, nor words left unsaid, and a clean 'energy field' to continue my journey forward, embracing new opportunities and awesome adventures as they present themselves along the way.

There Is No Arizona! Post #70

I returned home in July and began the process of sorting and prioritizing my life, preparing to be 'two' once again. But then Scott died...just like that! After all that fighting for his life, prayer, recovery, getting engaged, and looking forward to our future together, he was gone!

It was as though the previous six-months, Scott and I were adrift in the ocean riding the waves; some were huge and insurmountable that sucked us under for a time but, somehow when each wave passed, both our heads popped back

out of the water as we anticipated the next one. We fought, we cried, and we clung to each other as each wave towered over us trying our damnedest to stay together. 'Stay together! We must not get separated!' Then suddenly, somebody hit the pause button just after the last big wave hit and only my head popped out of the water. Though the pause button remained on, I was conscious, unlike when we pause a movie and we just know the characters are frozen in both time and consciousness and will start right where they left off, never knowing they were paused. Only this time, I was frozen in conscious suspended automation, (God I love those two words) watching the world continue to swirl around me.

Then the waves changed to a quiet abyss with fog raising out of it and Scott was nowhere to be found. There was no togetherness now. We were torn apart, he on one side and me on the other, unable to see or talk to each other, though our heart strings were still attached and I had somehow tried to delude myself into believing that, with all the adrenaline still pumping through my veins, perhaps my heart could beat for the two of us.

And somehow, in the back of my mind, I believed that he would be there waiting for me at the airport when I arrived in Phoenix for his funeral. We would go visit our special places and then even attend the service together! He would join his 

mom, my sister, Kare, and I on the upper deck of the Point Hilton to watch the blood moon that showed it's splendor the night after his funeral. I was certain he would at least show up at the pool for morning coffee or appear at the table with me at the Mexican Restaurant that we loved. But he never showed.

Back in Mobile, there were so many things I had wanted Scott to experience that are unique to 'here'. Every time I immersed myself in them, my mind told me he would be showing up at any second. It was like having that imaginary friend as a kid that only you could see. The things we had so looked forward to enjoying together, I was doing alone, often wondering if he would have loved it as much as me.

When our significant other passes, we are thrust into a world that most people only know from observing others going through it. But there are so many elements that can only be discovered in first person experience. For example, when we walk our loved-one through illness and fight so hard for their life focusing only on them, and they don't make it, there is suddenly nothing left to fight for. The world just stops!

I remember realizing, once again, that 'I' exist, yet the lady in the mirror had become a stranger and it took several weeks to realize that perhaps I was not okay. I was thrust back to real life with the task to move forward - alone. But the full realization that the life we had planned no longer exists didn't hit immediately. Rather it was like discovering I had been cheated, but not realizing how bad until more was revealed over time. With each revelation, I felt shock all over again, as if Scott had just died. For example, I still kept thinking I would be living in Arizona and had even contacted a realtor asking questions about about a house Scott had been interested in for us, only to be jolted into reality that I would not be living there. And my house did not need to expand for Scott living here. My niece told me about the song 'There Is No Arizona' and I have to laugh at the irony of it. But fate was the 'he' that had lied to me. Lied to us!

There is no Arizona
No painted desert, no Sedona
If there was a Grand Canyon
She could fill it up with the lies he's told her
But they don't exist, those dreams he sold her
She'll get there and find
There is no Arizona

Arizona was canceled! Our trips to Ireland, France, the Grecian Islands, and all over the US... canceled...just like that! My wedding was canceled – twice! A joint graduation party in each state...canceled! Ballroom dance lessons together, canceled! We would never bring to life the silhouettes in the pictures we loved. We – Scott and I – would never be 'them' – the silhouettes! My future was canceled and when I tried to look ahead to the rest of my life, all I could see was that gray fog.

A couple of months after losing Scott, one of my best friends in Mobile, who happens to be a counselor encouraged me to date. That sounded so absurd and I secretly questioned her effectiveness as a therapist. I thought back to a good friend back in 2007 who, in her early 50's had met a wonderful man and they, too, dated long-distance. He was out for his daily jog and suffered a fatal heart attack.

 I watched her walk through it seemingly emotionless, now knowing she was in shock. Three months later, she was dating and the girls in our group and I raised our eyebrows in disdain saying, “Well, I guess she really loved him didn't she!” We were not the gossipy type and were true friends to each other, but we were embarrassed for her moving so fast. As karma would have it, I learned the hard way that we all think that we know exactly how to handle a situation and what we would do if it were us. But the reality is, we don't! Not even remotely! And I found that all of my own ideals about the shining example I would be, had I been in her shoes, were not even on the list of options when it was me in that situation.

It was not an easy choice to decide to date.   After much agonizing over the prospect, I met someone weeks after this advice was given (months after Scott's death).   We connected right away and, looking back, it was because he was willing to talk about Scott, he asked questions and basically walked through the rest of the first year with me and I walked him through his mothers death. He was a God-send as I don't know how I would have gotten through it otherwise.

The relationship didn't take the away pain of losing Scott, but it helped smooth the first year milestones. Valentines Day that was supposed to be our secret wedding day in Sedona, graduation, the anniversary of his recovery, our engagement (July 4^th) etc. But that was a double-edged sword because when the road of our relationship took separate paths last spring, the anniversaries were still there, though the hardest first year was done. The memories and the sense of loss were still alive and well.

The journey of grief is inescapable and it is a road that must be traveled by all of us at

some point. No matter how much we try to bury it, run from it, stay busy, surround ourselves with friends, or even a new relationship, it is patiently waiting for our attention. The only choice we have about grief is how we frame it. It is there waiting for us in the dead of night; especially when we must face the journey alone. In the depths of grief, when my heart has been sliced open and my pain exposed for what feels like the world to see, I am forced to remember, to feel, to laugh and cry. It is then that I realize, grief is a gift. It is nothing more than that friend which none of us wants but, when it seeks us out, we can't get rid of it until we walk through the pain and accept life on new terms, and then move forward to live and love our life in spite of the loss.

Posts that tell Scott and my story:
The Waiting Place:   #58
A Spoken Word:   #59
Will You Be My Valentine:  #61
Arizona For Valentines Day:  #62
After the Waiting Place:  #66
Two Sillouettes Dancing:   #67
The Hour Glass is Empty:    #69
There is No Arizona:   #70

The Hour Glass Is Empty!!! Post #69

I returned home to Mobile around July 13, 2015 and began looking at everything in my world as 'in transition'. After all, Shanon would be coming home from seeing her dad and would begin her senior year, the last of my kids to be in school. Valentines Day 2016 held the promise of our secret wedding and then, though married, we would continue our separate lives until the girls graduated and over the summer of 2016 would begin joining two homes in two places and marry in October.

We were both ecstatic! Yet if we had listened to the

foreboding winds that chased us from behind and paid attention to the dark skies looming ahead, we would have realized that the sand in the hour-glass had just started falling. In an ironic sense, it was best that way because we would have lost the last bit of happiness and bliss we had looking forward to a future together. Perhaps our naivety was a gift!

But looking back, I'm not so sure Scott was naive, nor was I, had I listened to the winds howling out their warning. Scott asked me to open up a bank account in Mobile so that he could start putting cash into. I told him we would do that when he gets here. After all, the last thing I wanted him to think was that this was even remotely about 'money' for me. But he grew more impatient and even a little angry each day when he asked if I had done it and I told him 'No'. This was in late August. It was at that time that I began to worry that maybe things were not improving as he had hoped – health-wise. But he insisted that he was fine and then would again ask about the bank account.

He asked continuously what my hesitation was and I assured him we would do it when he came to visit because the money would be strictly for our future anyway. Yet he insisted that he wanted me to use it for whatever I needed. (I wouldn't have anyway! It would have been there when we got married!) I did worry a little about the reason for his insistence. Looking back, it was about that time that many of the things he said indicated more of taking care of things in the event of his departure from this world rather than joining our lives together.

Every couple of days, he would ask if we still had a date in Sedona on Valentines Day and I assured him we did. He would ask how 'we' are doing (something we agreed to do right from the beginning to ask “How are we doing” and discuss on a regular basis) and again, I assured him that 'we' were fine. He wasn't typically an insecure person but under the circumstances I wondered, “Was he afraid I would run?” And ya know what? Perhaps if he was not such a gentle spirit with an old fashioned – and may I say compatible - view on love, relationships and marriage, and if he didn't immediately impart to me his love of life and adventure and the prospect of sharing it with a life-long love, I can promise you I would have passed him by from the start. But as sick as he was, we had more fun, laughter and special times, and more heart-to-heart connection than I ever had with anyone! Every day was special! He gave me, in that year together, what I had been searching a lifetime for! There was no way I was walking. And I never did open that account.

On September 11, 2015, after stopping to grab a meal at Popeyes, Scott called me and told me what

he had eaten and that he was having stomach issues. For some reason, in my spirit, I knew his body could not handle this and that the dark clouds looming in the distance months back were now at hand. I began another prayer vigil as I had the previous spring, engaging others to pray on his behalf. But the clouds would not lift! That weekend, Scott was rushed to the hospital in a coma and never came out of it. The last grain of sand had fallen through the hour glass and Scott was free of his broken body.

Months of fighting, praying, hoping, miracles, engagement and celebrations, (basically living on adrenaline) suddenly came to a screeching halt as though I had just smashed into a brick wall. The silence was deafening and it made me feel as though I were in a surreal scene after a plane crash, wondering aimlessly not knowing what to do next or where to go. His funeral would not be for ten more days so during that time, I, like the rest of his family, had to go about my daily life as normal. I would go to work and conduct business as usual, going to job-sites and dealing with contractors and issues that seemed so minute, yet how could I even describe how unimportant this all was when I not only just lost my fiance, but my whole future that we had planned to spend together. And how could I convey the depth of my pain to anyone when the shell of my body was plowing through my work days as usual – and yet my mind and emotions were retreated somewhere within, as though I were doing a remote viewing of my world, or perhaps controlling the vehicle of my body from some distant location looking through 3-D glasses and using a joy stick to operate the mechanics of my own movements.

My office was on the 7^th floor of a downtown building and so many times I had looked out on the bright sunny days into the sky, and watching people on the street living their lives, with the knowledge that my life was about to expand with the one I love. But suddenly, no matter how bright the sun, all I could see was that suffocating gray cloud that hung like a thick fog over everything. I could not see where the streets led anymore, nor could I even direct a person to a parking spot on the phone from the 7^th floor like I had been so proficient at doing. There were no silhouettes dancing in this sky, only billowy figures that popped in and out of the haze, re-enacting, for me, the clues I should have paid attention to over the previous few months. I questioned everything. 'Did he die because he thought that since I didn't open the account I was going to bail on him?' 'Did he lose his motivation to recover because I was not there and he thought I wouldn't marry him?' 'If I was there, would I have been able to prevent this?' So many questions that did nothing more than bounce off the black clouds and reverberate back off the walls of my office bringing with them yet more questions.

Perhaps I would find the answers in Arizona while there for the funeral. And perhaps when I return home, this thick gray fog of nothingness would be gone, and I could just go skipping back into my life as though this were all nothing more than a wonderful, yet, tragic dream! But as I later found out, grief is that lump of coal in our Christmas stocking, the 'gift' that just keeps on giving, even when we don't want it.

Sweet Summer Solstice 2017 #68

                                                         Hello My Friend, My Sweet Summer Solstice,

Once again, you permeate the air
So soft and gentle
A warm summer breeze

Accompanied by the tropic summer rain
Promises of health and happiness
New lives are formed
Solstice is a reminder of another years' end
And a new one just beginning

My spirit tells me your best is yet to come

Brand new souls and children laughing
Grandparents playing, hearts overflowing
New traditions established, childhood memories created
Legacies left will be footprints followed

So, my Sweet Summer Friend,
The circle of life has once again swung
And as you continue this wonderful journey called life,
Remember, when trouble falls on those who follow,
They will always have your footprints to guide them and walk in when they're not sure that their own feet can carry them through.

Come summer, fall, winter and spring,
Until we meet again, my Sweet Summer Solstice.

Two Silhouettes Dancing! Post #67

             

Having a long-distance relationship, Scott and I often texted, Facebooked or emailed.  What I loved the most about our correspondence was the pureness of them.  I realize that many single people are talking through electronic mediums these days, something that often turns out to be less than respectful, or disillusioning, to say the least.  When Scott first approached me, I was skeptical.  Like an overzealous person carrying a gun, it is safe to say I was trigger happy, only my finger was aimed at the ‘delete’ button.  This was a new experience for me and, to be honest, it kind of freaked me out.   But reflecting over our messages, our last time together and the summer to follow, I realize more and more the gift that was given to both Scott and I.  It was truly magical!

            Our messages were full of enchanting pictures that reflected both our hearts and dreams for our lives together.  Scott started it and I was surprised to find out that he loved silhouettes as much as I do.  They are a blank slate that any of us can step into, often telling a story that we, ourselves write, in which we become the main characters.  There was so much we wanted to do together; travel the world, live in both Mobile and Phoenix, take ball room dancing, explore magical caves, trails, and mysterious places.   

Scott weighted about 128 in this picture!

   After he got out of the rehab center following his month-long coma, I flew back to Phoenix on June 23, 2015 to spend three weeks there to help him get re-acclimated.   Over the previous year, particularly in the last couple of months, his weight dropped from about 189 to 123 lbs.  I was shocked at how thin he had gotten since I had been there in April.  He was using a walker and had chronic dizzy spells.  Within days, he was gaining strength.  We had gotten him acupuncture and immediately the dizziness stopped.  Between naps, we ran errands, went grocery shopping and had our morning coffee on his side porch overlooking the desert.  We cooked healthy lunches and dinners and enjoyed that time together.  The second week, Scott often didn’t need his walker and we began – at his insistence – going out to parks and beautiful settings where we would spend time outdoors planning our future.

To his family’s surprise and shock, we pulled up to their Fourth of July barbecue with Scott behind the wheel.  They were elated at his progress and more so, the fact that he was even alive!  After lunch, Scott and I were sitting on the back patio when he proposed.  Without hesitation, I said ‘yes’.  His mom came out and we told her and she excitedly announced it to the family.  All of us were elated, though I could not help but to feel that we had cheated death and in the back of my mind, I was afraid this would be ripped out from under me.       

  That night on our way home, the moon was so huge and bright over the mountain that it resembled the moon in many of our silhouette pictures.  We pulled over, as Scott often did when he saw something beautiful, to take pictures and sat for nearly an hour mesmerized by its beauty!   

The next day, we went to the Hilton Point Resort, which is the equivalent of our Grand Hotel in Point Clear, Alabama, to stay for three nights.  We relaxed at the pools by day and in the evenings had dinner under the moon.   We talked and dreamed of what would be.

.  

The following week I had to return home.  Scott would be coming to see me in September, when he was strong enough to travel.  We were excited and continued to text, email, and Facebook pictures of our shared dreams and we spent long hours on the phone planning our future.  Scott had wanted to get married that fall.  I wanted to wait a year to get the girls through their senior years and not uproot either of them, but we planned a 'secret' wedding for Valentines day 2016 in Sedona.  In retrospect, I realize that while I was being practical, Scott had a keen sense of urgency because he had already met God once and was allowed to come back.  He knew, more than anyone, that our days are numbered and just because we think we have time, it does not mean that we do.

After The Waiting Place: New Beginnings Post #66

It’s been a while since I have written – particularly about Scott, and our journey through love and loss.  My last post about this was, I believe, “The Waiting Place”.  I hadn’t posted in the few months after because I was preparing for an amazing follow-up story.  And in many ways, it is amazing!

In the months of April and May 2015, Scott fell into a coma while suffering from a blood clot to the lungs, Pneumonia, and Valley Fever, all the result of  the astronomical amounts of various crippling antibiotics he was taking for a foot infection that started six months before.  The medication basically killed his immune systems ability to fight anything off.   In April, here in Mobile, we  had nearly two weeks of constant pouring rain, very dark skies and severe thunderstorms.  We were about 5 days into this when I arrived to work at 8 a.m. on a Monday morning.    Scott had been in the hospital for a week or two but we had been talking every day.  For some reason, I woke up feeling extremely apprehensive that morning.  The dark, stormy ride to work on what should have bright sunny morning just seemed to indicate that I was on the precipice of something unpleasant. 

Less than an hour after arriving to work, I received a call from Scotts mom telling me he took a turn for the worse, lapsed into a coma and may not make it through the day.  I went into a conference room for privacy and made plane reservations in the midst of crying hysterically.  I left work to go home to pack.  Having a few hours before time to leave, I took a short nap as I knew the trip ahead would be long and waiting period to leave home would be agony.  I wanted to sleep it off.  I also had to make fast arrangements for someone to come and stay with Shanon, which my niece, Jennifer, did.

My flight left around 2 p.m. and I arrived in Phoenix at around midnight our time and 10 p.m. Arizona time.  Scott was conscious again and we had hope.  He was thrilled  I was there and wouldn’t let go of my hand.  He kept touching my face as he often did and telling me he loved me.  The family suspected that the sleep medicine given the night before may have caused the crisis of the previous evening.  I opted to stay in the hospital for most of the night with him though I was exhausted.  I had asked the nurse to please not give him that medicine again.  But after a couple of hours, she felt it would help him rest better and insisted it was not what caused the downturn 24 hours before.  So I begged for only a half of the dosage and they agreed.  They gave him the medicine at 3:30 a.m. – which was actually 5:30 a.m. Mobile time – my time.  He seemed to have calmed down so I left and drove the 30 minutes to his sisters’ house to sleep.

I showered and went to bed at 4:45 a.m.   Forty five minutes later, Sheli (Scott’s sister) came in and told me he had gone into cardiac arrest and they were keeping him alive until we arrived.  We got back to the hospital at 6:30 a.m. expecting that he would pass that day, but he didn’t.  Yet he remained in a critical state with one crisis after another for the next week.  Doctor after doctor begged us to turn off support saying his death was imminent.   I stayed again that night until what I deemed ‘the witching hour’, (that time in the middle of the night that patients typically die or take a downturn)  which is 2:30 - 3:30 a.m.  I left and once again, crawled into bed at 4:30.  I was up by 10:30 and back to the hospital at noon.  Looking at his hands and feet, I noticed they were turning grey.  Since this is one of the things that happens just before death, I frantically motioned for the nurse while trying not to panic his daughter. 

The nurse explained that this was the side effect of the blood pressure medicine that cuts off circulation to the arms and legs to push blood flow to the heart.  Upon further questioning her, she confirmed my fears that this would lead to multiple amputations.  I begged her to get the doctors in there and find an alternative.  After all, Scott was a master builder!  He did the flooring in both the Campbell (Campbell soup family) and Wrigley (Wrigley gum) family mansions, among other big jobs.  I explained that he needed his hands to earn a living.  They seemed unmoved and were resigned that amputations were the norm and would ultimately happen if he were to survive, which they didn’t think he would anyway.  Then I pulled out my phone and showed them pics from of us on Valentines day, two months before.  They were shocked to see that this was the same person and were finally showing compassion.  They were now seeing Scott as a person.  A while later, the nurse came in and sat next to me and asked how we met.  I told her our story through a downpour of tears and by the time I finished, she was bawling and hugging me.   She promised she would take care of him.  I begged her to, at the very least, take that medicine to the lowest dosage possible to keep him alive so that his extremities would not be damaged.

I took a late afternoon break and slept, then came back four hours later to find Scott wearing gloves and socks with warmers.  His feet and hands were as pink as mine.  On top of that, they did exactly as I requested,  reducing the BP med dosages  to the lowest possible.

The infectious control doctor who had put Scott on the many strong and crippling antibiotics six months prior (and kept him on them) came to talk to me about convincing Scott's mom to turn off the life support.  Again, she told me he was trying to tell us he wanted to die and that we weren't listening to him.  I knew he didn’t. I told her that this was a decision between Scott and God – they would have a talk on ‘the other side’.  Then I made a deal with her.  “Start taking him off all of this medicine, one-by-one, and let him tell us.”   She agreed and, with Scotts mom’s permission, they began reducing the medicines.  On top of life support, he was on Nitric Oxide and all the staff said they had never seen anyone come off that alive. They agreed to decrease all meds, convinced he would die in the process.

I had the world of Facebook praying daily – many of whom were both our former classmates.  And each day after they began reducing the medication, Scott got a little better.  I was there for eleven days but when I left, I felt confident he would pull through this.  It was two weeks later when I got the call telling me Scott was awake.  Five days after that, they took the trach out and he was able to talk to me on the phone for short intervals.  By the end of May, they moved him to a transitional rehab unit where he would stay until June 22.  I had since resigned from my job and continued working a part time contract job that I had been working on the side.  I was able to work somewhat remotely and the company agreed to allow me work from Arizona for three weeks so the plan was for me to leave on June 23 and return July 15.

During the next three weeks, the sun shined brightly in Mobile and there was a sense of newness.  Life was springing up all around me.  The sound of the cicadas, the birds singing and wind blowing were more pleasant than I remembered.  The color of the sky and the flowers were so vibrant and the white sand on the beaches seemed so majestic.  The scent of sweet olives and ginger (or whatever blossoms in June) were so much sweeter than ever before.  There was hope in the air and I was looking forward to the future.