[Sorry about the long break but for those who don’t know, Dad has had some major health problems and is still in the hospital. I will try to get back to my “therapy session” (or as it seems--my autobiography) soon and I’m sure you are more than ready for the conclusion as I am to finish writing it. I’ve rarely been on the computer and have had somewhat of a writer’s block of late.]
In April, Dad’s bypass was postponed because the doctors discovered he was anemic. After several weeks of testing, the reason for the blood loss was due to a mass on his colon, along with numerous polyps. When I picked up my parents from the doctor’s office, both were somber. “Guess it runs in the family,” Dad blurted out as he got into the car. As we drove along, asked, “Well…” There was silence, followed by hesitations. Knew it couldn’t be good news. Mom said that we would talk about it when we got home. Although only a mile from office to home, the tears started to fall. That dreaded “c” word was now the new focal point and the doctors were not overly optimistic.
Dad was scheduled to have a CT scan in preparation for colon surgery last week. A few days prior Dad was extremely weak, had difficulty maneuvering, had little appetite and no interest in the “boob tube,” a sure sign to me that Dad was depressed. While observing Dad eating dinner last Monday night, it reminded me when Carl had insulin reactions. Thought he had a stroke. The paramedics took Dad to the ER and an angiogram showed that Dad had suffered a heart attack.
Although considered a “mild” attack, the lower lobe of the heart was pretty well kaput, and according to the specialists, Dad’s case was very difficult. Doing a bypass would not be advisable because of the blood issues--can’t put a patient on blood thinners when said patient is losing blood; and can’t attach necessary medical devices to the lower lobe when it is already severely damaged. The bypass issue was addressed two years ago when it was discovered that Dad’s arteries were over 90% blocked but too far gone to have stents inserted; however, someone Dad’s age only had a 50/50 chance of success, and he also had other health issues, and to be blunt, Dad just didn’t want to have it done. Dad has always said he would rather live one year of enjoyment (meaning eat what you want) versus two years of misery.
According to one of the nurses, Dad has had the “A Team” consulting on his case. Dad has to give his heart a rest before any medical procedure can be performed. Modern technology has changed over the last two years and now the plan is to stent the arteries as much as possible using several different techniques and the senior heart specialist will be on call to insert a pacemaker--outer or inner whichever the need. Of course, nothing really is for certain until the surgery is being performed. Still awaiting Dr. W’s return and hopefully some procedure will be performed before the end of this week. Then it will be back to focusing on the possibility of colon cancer.
Dad is still very weak and doesn’t have much of an appetite. But who does with hospital food, especially when it’s low sodium, fat, and cholesterol. He’ll have to change his diet and know Dad’s not going to be happy.
On a side note, I have a new found respect for people who live in their automobiles. Have passed by a few on my early morning jaunts but never really know the circumstances. My neighbors were evicted from their apartment for lack of payment and are moving out. Wouldn’t you know they decided to start at 10:00 last night and the U-Haul was parked below my bathroom window, with slamming doors and periodic yelling. Tried to sleep with high fan blowing and TV on but just tossed and turned. Got dressed, grabbed my keys and headed toward my car that is parked in the church lot. Tried to get comfortable and should have worn my sweats (much colder outside than in my apartment). Did manage to fall asleep but woke up and went back to my apartment to go to the bathroom. They were still at it!!!!!!!! It was 12:30. Decided to try and ignore the noise and luckily fell sound asleep until time to get up. Have a feeling I’ll be faced with the same situation again tonight. Lived next door to them for 1-½ years and they always do what they want, whenever they want with no consideration for anybody else. Although they are nice, and I like them, can't say I'll hate to see them go.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Friday, June 15, 2007
HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - PART 13
It seemed like a bad dream but the effects were real. Dejection and discouragement, melancholy, and the falling of an already low self-esteem; like a balloon that had been deflated. Lived in Vista and the same problems still followed. Carl having even more difficulty controlling his blood sugars, Jonathan not too happy about his surroundings, and me back to focusing on the planning and preparation of our daily meals and the exercise regimen.
Carl went back to work for Marie Callender’s where he had been employed while living in Austin, and I went to work for the school district. Jonathan started the 9th grade at the high school across the street. Didn’t care for the three C of Cs in the area, so started attending an evangelical covenant church located in the Albertson’s shopping center within walking distance from our apartment complex. The musical direction, even with a band, was inspiring and the sermons were geared toward the present and made for easy listening. Afterwards Jonathan could even tell you what the sermon was about.
In the apartment complex our neighbors had a golden retriever, Sunshine. She was a sweet dog and very well trained. Susie was pregnant and also had a little girl and said Jonathan was welcome to walk Sunshine at any time. Jonathan did it half heartedly and with not as much regularity as I would have expected.
One afternoon Carl took Sunshine out. He was gone for quite some time. There was a knock on the door. It was Dean, our manager, who also lived below us. Carl was having some problems and was at the front of the complex waiting for the paramedics. I hurried over and met the driver that stopped after seeing Carl staggering and falling down. He also got another neighbor to give him some orange juice and called for assistance. This man’s profession--a former paramedic who was the editor of the Journal of Emergency Medical Services. Said he was fascinated how this golden retriever stayed by Carl’s side the entire time--they both were sitting and Carl had his arm around her. Dean’s daughter recognized Carl and Sunshine and went to tell her dad to get me.
After the paramedics were ready to leave, Carl stood up and couldn’t walk. They took him to the ER. At the time the closest hospital (5 miles) was only accepting life threatening cases so, of course, had to go to the hospital in Escondido which was 12 miles away. Carl fractured his leg in three places and was going to be out of commission for a couple of months. Carl explained that even with all his confusion, he just wanted to hold on to Sunshine and keep her safe. Actually I think Sunshine was protecting Carl. After all the tests were done in the ER, it was advised that Carl see a specialist regarding his kidneys. The doc reaffirmed what the nephrologist said in Austin and gave us information about transplants and dialysis. Besides full cast, Carl started having fainting episodes and had to be careful when sitting up for long periods of time.
Jonathan made it through a semester of high school before Carl took a promotion as assistant manager and relocated to Santa Barbara. Home schooled Jonathan for a while but the cost of living was too high. (I must be crazy--didn’t care for Santa Barbara at all.) Packed up and headed to Albuquerque to decide whether to stay there or return to Austin. Guess one thing could be said--our lives were not boring.
(to be continued)
Carl went back to work for Marie Callender’s where he had been employed while living in Austin, and I went to work for the school district. Jonathan started the 9th grade at the high school across the street. Didn’t care for the three C of Cs in the area, so started attending an evangelical covenant church located in the Albertson’s shopping center within walking distance from our apartment complex. The musical direction, even with a band, was inspiring and the sermons were geared toward the present and made for easy listening. Afterwards Jonathan could even tell you what the sermon was about.
In the apartment complex our neighbors had a golden retriever, Sunshine. She was a sweet dog and very well trained. Susie was pregnant and also had a little girl and said Jonathan was welcome to walk Sunshine at any time. Jonathan did it half heartedly and with not as much regularity as I would have expected.
One afternoon Carl took Sunshine out. He was gone for quite some time. There was a knock on the door. It was Dean, our manager, who also lived below us. Carl was having some problems and was at the front of the complex waiting for the paramedics. I hurried over and met the driver that stopped after seeing Carl staggering and falling down. He also got another neighbor to give him some orange juice and called for assistance. This man’s profession--a former paramedic who was the editor of the Journal of Emergency Medical Services. Said he was fascinated how this golden retriever stayed by Carl’s side the entire time--they both were sitting and Carl had his arm around her. Dean’s daughter recognized Carl and Sunshine and went to tell her dad to get me.
After the paramedics were ready to leave, Carl stood up and couldn’t walk. They took him to the ER. At the time the closest hospital (5 miles) was only accepting life threatening cases so, of course, had to go to the hospital in Escondido which was 12 miles away. Carl fractured his leg in three places and was going to be out of commission for a couple of months. Carl explained that even with all his confusion, he just wanted to hold on to Sunshine and keep her safe. Actually I think Sunshine was protecting Carl. After all the tests were done in the ER, it was advised that Carl see a specialist regarding his kidneys. The doc reaffirmed what the nephrologist said in Austin and gave us information about transplants and dialysis. Besides full cast, Carl started having fainting episodes and had to be careful when sitting up for long periods of time.
Jonathan made it through a semester of high school before Carl took a promotion as assistant manager and relocated to Santa Barbara. Home schooled Jonathan for a while but the cost of living was too high. (I must be crazy--didn’t care for Santa Barbara at all.) Packed up and headed to Albuquerque to decide whether to stay there or return to Austin. Guess one thing could be said--our lives were not boring.
(to be continued)
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - PART 12
Carl and I had an opportunity to work together as comanagers at a retirement facility in Riverside. During the interview we had discussed the possibility of putting Jonathan into boarding school but were not certain. Jim didn’t seem concerned. When we got the offer, I again reiterated the fact about boarding school and what if Jonathan didn’t go. Jim said he could stay with us permanently. Verified my understanding by asking Jim, “You mean that if Jonathan doesn’t go to boarding school, he can stay with us permanently?” Jim said, “That’s what I’m saying.” We jumped at the chance of working together. Also wouldn’t have to worry quite as much about Carl since we’d be together almost 24/7.
We lived onsite and worked four 12-hour days and ate in the dining room twice a day during work. On our days off we could get food from the kitchen and usually went out to dinner at Sizzler. Loved the job. Worked part of the time in the office and the rest of the time in the dining room/kitchen or attending resident meetings or “walking the beat.” Jonathan even got a job as a kitchen helper. Carl gave the announcements during meal times and had to go out of town to attend his mother’s funeral (Carl would be dead two years later). When Carl was gone, I had to give the announcements and am not much of a public speaker but was proud of the results and the residents seemed to appreciate my delivery.
Loved the residents, especially Mildred, a gal in her 90s who reminded me of my grandmother. She could resolve any situation and whip everybody into line, and I started adding “Sergeant” to her name. But did have a run in with one in particular during the first week. Part of the job required pouring coffee during meal times and filled up this lady’s cup. She chewed me up and cussed me out, and I quietly retreated. Later learned that she had Alzheimer’s, and I knew there would be more interesting days ahead.
Overall I functioned quite well in this type of atmosphere and had a voracious appetite. There was a running joke around the corporation that all managers should only own inflatable furniture because of the constant relocating. Jim and Mary had to move to another facility and had us move into their apartment adjacent to the office not only in order to have extra room for Jonathan, but he thought we would eventually become the managers.
In came Art and Naomi, temporary managers who only would be staying until they were shipped out to Oklahoma. They had caused an uprise at another facility (apparently not the first) and one of the residents was the mayor’s mother. The district manager told Carl and me to keep an eye out and to call if there were any problems. Art was not to change anything. Couldn’t figure out why they were still employed with the company. Art started changing everything from no walkers in the dining room to no removing food from the dining room and didn’t want us coming into the kitchen on our days off. Residents were upset--here we go again. Called Linda. She would take care of it. Even called Jim who tried to give us reassurance. Linda had a meeting with the residents to assuage their concerns (she did it with lies).
Jim came down and talked to us and asked if Jonathan was going to go to boarding school. Jim seemed surprised he wasn’t going and pretty much said Jonathan couldn’t stay with us. Apparently Jim’s “permanently” meant until the end of the school year (sure it did) but thought something could be worked out as was done in another facility. Jim said that many of the managers didn’t understand why Art was still around either (he must have something on somebody). Art was two-faced and by the way he talked behind closed doors you could tell he had no concern or compassion for these people. When Art came in the room, Carl and I asked how we were doing. The response was quite favorable. Over the next two weeks there were secret meetings that didn’t include Carl and me. You just knew something was wrong.
Two weeks later Art gave us our evaluation--unsatisfactory on all fronts. It would be putting it mildly to say I was devastated. Never had a bad evaluation (and believe me I’ve had many jobs). Carl saw my face; saw my reaction and got upset. Didn’t understand. Asked for examples and got excuses. Words were exchanged between Carl and Art. Carl moved in closer and Art backed up and the wives tried to calm their husbands. Art also said we would have to move back into the other apartment during our days off (we had made plans to be out of town) and when the school year ended Jonathan could no longer live with us; otherwise, … (you get the picture). More words were exchanged. Carl said Jonathan was not leaving and refused to move on our days off. Art said he would then have to fire us. Carl got in Art’s face and dared Art to fire him. Art took the dare. I thought Carl was going to deck the guy (know it took everything he had not to).
The door to the office and our apartment was bolted, we were banned from entering the facility, couldn’t say anything to the residents, and given one week to get out. Probably the most humiliating time of my life. So out of character for Carl, but you could say he was defending my honor. Now, how could you not love this man!
Some of the residents could see us packing the U-Haul and we told them flat out the real reason--not the lies being told. They were upset to say the least. I can honestly say Art was the first individual I utterly despised who I thought was the devil incarnate. Must have been a conspiracy theory--trying to get us to quit after finding out Jonathan would be staying for fear of a lawsuit for misrepresentation or discrimination. Who knows. So, what did I learn from this experience--always cover your back by documenting everything, keeping records, and tape recording all conversations. And in case you were wondering, no, I still have yet to do those things. What can I say? I had to leave my second favorite job.
Jonathan wanted to stay in Riverside. He was doing well in school and looking forward to going to high school with his new found friends. We wanted to leave and went down to North San Diego County. Jonathan lost out again.
(to be continued)
We lived onsite and worked four 12-hour days and ate in the dining room twice a day during work. On our days off we could get food from the kitchen and usually went out to dinner at Sizzler. Loved the job. Worked part of the time in the office and the rest of the time in the dining room/kitchen or attending resident meetings or “walking the beat.” Jonathan even got a job as a kitchen helper. Carl gave the announcements during meal times and had to go out of town to attend his mother’s funeral (Carl would be dead two years later). When Carl was gone, I had to give the announcements and am not much of a public speaker but was proud of the results and the residents seemed to appreciate my delivery.
Loved the residents, especially Mildred, a gal in her 90s who reminded me of my grandmother. She could resolve any situation and whip everybody into line, and I started adding “Sergeant” to her name. But did have a run in with one in particular during the first week. Part of the job required pouring coffee during meal times and filled up this lady’s cup. She chewed me up and cussed me out, and I quietly retreated. Later learned that she had Alzheimer’s, and I knew there would be more interesting days ahead.
Overall I functioned quite well in this type of atmosphere and had a voracious appetite. There was a running joke around the corporation that all managers should only own inflatable furniture because of the constant relocating. Jim and Mary had to move to another facility and had us move into their apartment adjacent to the office not only in order to have extra room for Jonathan, but he thought we would eventually become the managers.
In came Art and Naomi, temporary managers who only would be staying until they were shipped out to Oklahoma. They had caused an uprise at another facility (apparently not the first) and one of the residents was the mayor’s mother. The district manager told Carl and me to keep an eye out and to call if there were any problems. Art was not to change anything. Couldn’t figure out why they were still employed with the company. Art started changing everything from no walkers in the dining room to no removing food from the dining room and didn’t want us coming into the kitchen on our days off. Residents were upset--here we go again. Called Linda. She would take care of it. Even called Jim who tried to give us reassurance. Linda had a meeting with the residents to assuage their concerns (she did it with lies).
Jim came down and talked to us and asked if Jonathan was going to go to boarding school. Jim seemed surprised he wasn’t going and pretty much said Jonathan couldn’t stay with us. Apparently Jim’s “permanently” meant until the end of the school year (sure it did) but thought something could be worked out as was done in another facility. Jim said that many of the managers didn’t understand why Art was still around either (he must have something on somebody). Art was two-faced and by the way he talked behind closed doors you could tell he had no concern or compassion for these people. When Art came in the room, Carl and I asked how we were doing. The response was quite favorable. Over the next two weeks there were secret meetings that didn’t include Carl and me. You just knew something was wrong.
Two weeks later Art gave us our evaluation--unsatisfactory on all fronts. It would be putting it mildly to say I was devastated. Never had a bad evaluation (and believe me I’ve had many jobs). Carl saw my face; saw my reaction and got upset. Didn’t understand. Asked for examples and got excuses. Words were exchanged between Carl and Art. Carl moved in closer and Art backed up and the wives tried to calm their husbands. Art also said we would have to move back into the other apartment during our days off (we had made plans to be out of town) and when the school year ended Jonathan could no longer live with us; otherwise, … (you get the picture). More words were exchanged. Carl said Jonathan was not leaving and refused to move on our days off. Art said he would then have to fire us. Carl got in Art’s face and dared Art to fire him. Art took the dare. I thought Carl was going to deck the guy (know it took everything he had not to).
The door to the office and our apartment was bolted, we were banned from entering the facility, couldn’t say anything to the residents, and given one week to get out. Probably the most humiliating time of my life. So out of character for Carl, but you could say he was defending my honor. Now, how could you not love this man!
Some of the residents could see us packing the U-Haul and we told them flat out the real reason--not the lies being told. They were upset to say the least. I can honestly say Art was the first individual I utterly despised who I thought was the devil incarnate. Must have been a conspiracy theory--trying to get us to quit after finding out Jonathan would be staying for fear of a lawsuit for misrepresentation or discrimination. Who knows. So, what did I learn from this experience--always cover your back by documenting everything, keeping records, and tape recording all conversations. And in case you were wondering, no, I still have yet to do those things. What can I say? I had to leave my second favorite job.
Jonathan wanted to stay in Riverside. He was doing well in school and looking forward to going to high school with his new found friends. We wanted to leave and went down to North San Diego County. Jonathan lost out again.
(to be continued)
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - PART 11
While living in Austin I was fortunate to have worked over eight years at the health department with decent pay, great benefits and convenience store name hours--7 to 11 (both a.m., folks). Also attended a church that was considered by some the most liberal church of Christ in town. Went on a regular basis, meaning three times a week including monthly small group meetings on Sunday nights. Also had monthly potlucks after the morning service. It was difficult for me to do especially the small group. The Bible study was great but the problem was the “breaking of bread” time. Either told people I wasn’t hungry or ate very little. The truth--had to eat what was planned at home. It felt uncomfortable sitting with the others and not eating and wondered what they must be thinking. If I had eaten a significant amount it would create more angst than not so always chose the lesser of two evils. Rotated groups every year and after a few years Carl knew the stress it was causing so explained to the last leader the real reason we were dropping out of the group. It did add to my already low self-esteem. Fared better with the noon potlucks because Carl and I worked in the kitchen and I didn’t have to worry about appearances for not eating. Most people would think I belong in the loony bin. I know it sounds crazy; even more so as I write this.
Seem to have the textbook signs of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and its different forms--frequent worry thoughts (obsessions), use repetitive behaviors as a means to stop the worry thoughts (compulsions), rigid, inflexible, perfectionist, overly conscientious… (shall I go on?). Was going to write a separate blog and title it “Life of a Monk.” Monk not referring to a member of a religious order who lives in a monastery, but Adrian Monk, a former legendary San Francisco homicide detective with severe psychological disorders and obsessive-compulsive tendencies. A character portrayed by Tony Shalhoub on the USA network. Great show, but I digress.
When Jonathan was in fifth grade he attended the Christian school that was associated with our church. The school was ranked very high academically and Jonathan could also benefit from the Christ-centered environment. Jonathan made it through the first five years of public school but now much more was expected especially in the amount of homework given and the complexity of the assignments. Jonathan played on the flag football team but found it more exciting watching him play on the basketball team and thought he had potential. During one tournament I played scorekeeper--loved hitting that buzzer!
Had difficulty with one of the teachers regarding missing assignments but they were found in the midst of her mounds of paperwork. Of course, by that time Jonathan had been suspended from playing on the team for three weeks. Found out a coworker’s daughter also attended the same school, and he gave me an earful about the school’s unreasonableness and indifference. After being lied to by the principal, who happened to be one of the elder’s wives, we decided to put Jonathan back into public school. We also decided to stop going to church there and got fed up with this denomination and had no plans to step foot in another one again. Wish I could go back and rewrite that history. This could have been handled much better, and Jonathan wouldn’t have been the one to suffer. Doubt we would have ever moved, left church or the school, and Jonathan would have had the best education and life-long friends.
Year after year the diabetes ravaged inside Carl’s body. The numerous insulin reactions gradually effecting his mental capacity and the erratic blood sugars destroying his kidneys. After a few minutes of poking and prodding the nephrologist said Carl would have complete kidney failure within two years. Carl scoffed at the news and thought the doctor was a quack (another state of denial). Decided to return to California (or as some might say, run away).
(to be continued)
Seem to have the textbook signs of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and its different forms--frequent worry thoughts (obsessions), use repetitive behaviors as a means to stop the worry thoughts (compulsions), rigid, inflexible, perfectionist, overly conscientious… (shall I go on?). Was going to write a separate blog and title it “Life of a Monk.” Monk not referring to a member of a religious order who lives in a monastery, but Adrian Monk, a former legendary San Francisco homicide detective with severe psychological disorders and obsessive-compulsive tendencies. A character portrayed by Tony Shalhoub on the USA network. Great show, but I digress.
When Jonathan was in fifth grade he attended the Christian school that was associated with our church. The school was ranked very high academically and Jonathan could also benefit from the Christ-centered environment. Jonathan made it through the first five years of public school but now much more was expected especially in the amount of homework given and the complexity of the assignments. Jonathan played on the flag football team but found it more exciting watching him play on the basketball team and thought he had potential. During one tournament I played scorekeeper--loved hitting that buzzer!
Had difficulty with one of the teachers regarding missing assignments but they were found in the midst of her mounds of paperwork. Of course, by that time Jonathan had been suspended from playing on the team for three weeks. Found out a coworker’s daughter also attended the same school, and he gave me an earful about the school’s unreasonableness and indifference. After being lied to by the principal, who happened to be one of the elder’s wives, we decided to put Jonathan back into public school. We also decided to stop going to church there and got fed up with this denomination and had no plans to step foot in another one again. Wish I could go back and rewrite that history. This could have been handled much better, and Jonathan wouldn’t have been the one to suffer. Doubt we would have ever moved, left church or the school, and Jonathan would have had the best education and life-long friends.
Year after year the diabetes ravaged inside Carl’s body. The numerous insulin reactions gradually effecting his mental capacity and the erratic blood sugars destroying his kidneys. After a few minutes of poking and prodding the nephrologist said Carl would have complete kidney failure within two years. Carl scoffed at the news and thought the doctor was a quack (another state of denial). Decided to return to California (or as some might say, run away).
(to be continued)
Monday, June 11, 2007
HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - PART 10
As I said earlier, all internal struggles were constant, some years worse than others, but you try to deal with it as best you can and learn to live with it. Was a stay-at-home mom the first year. Never planned to raise children and reading all the books about the subject matter still didn’t prepare you for reality. It was a bumpy ride and Jonathan having a strong-willed personality added to the pressures of life. Carl lost his job and I was able to return to work but not in the same position as before leaving on maternity leave. Now as a working mom taking care of a house, a child, and a husband and all the difficulties associated with his diabetes put a heavy burden on my shoulders. Took care of most everything and admit turning down any assistance Carl did offer. Find it hard to ask for any help, even from God but have no trouble offering help to others. I have to do it myself (some might say “have to control“) and it was probably a way not to dwell on my other hang-ups but you soon learn that you don’t control most things and it was back on the eating/exercise merry-go-round. Doesn’t make sense to those who have never experienced an eating disorder, but it seems to be the only thing you can control.
Started attending another congregation closer to home and tried to go on a regular basis but when you have an infant, that’s not always possible. I would stay home and Carl would go, mostly during the middle week service. One evening received a call that Carl was involved in a wreck in an intersection ½ mile from the house. Put Jonathan in the car seat (he was two) and drove to the scene. Luckily no one was severely hurt, but Carl was taken to the ER as he had apparently passed out behind the wheel and his blood sugar was extremely high. Carl said to go back home and he would call. He stayed overnight for observation.
The next afternoon Carl called and said he was being taken to the county jail for DWI. Can’t tell you how my heart sank. I felt the hatred and I was furious not because of the drinking, but the deception. Then I remembered what Lee had said two years earlier. Carl obviously had been drinking all this time. Boy, was I the fool! At that moment I was ready to call it quits.
Carl called to get picked up. All the “sorrys” fell on deaf ears. Didn’t really want to hear it. As I drove up to the front of the jail, there stood Carl. He looked like a whipped puppy with his tail between his legs. My heart softened somewhat. This man was also struggling and dealing with his own issues. As I write this, makes me think of the lines from A Few Good Men--Cruise: “I want the truth.” Nicholson: “You can’t handle the truth.” Doubt Carl thought I could handle knowing about his vices, so would lie in order not to disappoint me.
We talked. He kept apologizing. My trust was broken and it was going to be a long haul to earn it back. It would have been easy to walk away; Lord knows I had enough issues to deal with and a small child to think about, but I made a commitment and was determined to see it through no matter what the price. Although I chose not to drink, never was one who considered it a sin and at that time wasn’t particularly wanting a spouse who imbibed. However, Carl was diabetic and it was in his best interests not to do so--that was my main concern.
When Jonathan was three, we moved to California, and I worked in the Vision Clinic at Juvenile Hall. While awaiting a promotion to be a probation officer, I had to get evaluated by a psychologist. Told him minute details (didn’t want to sabotage my chances) and about being raised in the church of Christ. The gist of his response--no wonder you are so screwed up. Gee, thanks. That really helped a lot. That sarcastic comment didn’t dissuade us from changing church affiliations.
Living nine months in San Bernardino County resulted in Jonathan and I contracting bronchitis three times each so decided to move to Arkansas where Carl’s parents were living. Coping with Carl’s diabetes became more difficult each and every year. Carl couldn’t get it, couldn’t accept it and continued to live as he saw fit.
Worry and frustration were constant. Restless nights of sleep. A son who the older he got the more defiant and the more volatile my mood swings became upon provocation. The yo-yo dieting and the increased exercise (added Tae Bo) pulled me further into depression. Suicidal thoughts could not be ignored. I knew the anguish many felt when a family member ended his life and knew I could not add to that heartache. Reverting back to the anorexia seemed to be the best solution of stopping the pain without actually pulling a trigger, slitting a wrist, or popping a bottle of pills. Calling the suicide hotline my only voice of reason. At times wondered if I was bipolar because of the erratic mood swings but it didn’t seem to compare to those few friends I knew wore that label.
I’m ashamed of many things but mostly the abuse raged against my son. Words a parent should never say in the moment to their child and uttered with such contempt. Words once spilled out can never be taken back. At times a slap on the face, a kick in the butt, or a tight grab of the wrist but there was no excuse for even those few incidents. Jonathan never hit back, but I’m sure he lost all respect for me and who can blame him. I didn’t have much for myself and it just verified another reason for my self-loathing. Although forgiven, I’m still seeking atonement.
(to be continued)
Started attending another congregation closer to home and tried to go on a regular basis but when you have an infant, that’s not always possible. I would stay home and Carl would go, mostly during the middle week service. One evening received a call that Carl was involved in a wreck in an intersection ½ mile from the house. Put Jonathan in the car seat (he was two) and drove to the scene. Luckily no one was severely hurt, but Carl was taken to the ER as he had apparently passed out behind the wheel and his blood sugar was extremely high. Carl said to go back home and he would call. He stayed overnight for observation.
The next afternoon Carl called and said he was being taken to the county jail for DWI. Can’t tell you how my heart sank. I felt the hatred and I was furious not because of the drinking, but the deception. Then I remembered what Lee had said two years earlier. Carl obviously had been drinking all this time. Boy, was I the fool! At that moment I was ready to call it quits.
Carl called to get picked up. All the “sorrys” fell on deaf ears. Didn’t really want to hear it. As I drove up to the front of the jail, there stood Carl. He looked like a whipped puppy with his tail between his legs. My heart softened somewhat. This man was also struggling and dealing with his own issues. As I write this, makes me think of the lines from A Few Good Men--Cruise: “I want the truth.” Nicholson: “You can’t handle the truth.” Doubt Carl thought I could handle knowing about his vices, so would lie in order not to disappoint me.
We talked. He kept apologizing. My trust was broken and it was going to be a long haul to earn it back. It would have been easy to walk away; Lord knows I had enough issues to deal with and a small child to think about, but I made a commitment and was determined to see it through no matter what the price. Although I chose not to drink, never was one who considered it a sin and at that time wasn’t particularly wanting a spouse who imbibed. However, Carl was diabetic and it was in his best interests not to do so--that was my main concern.
When Jonathan was three, we moved to California, and I worked in the Vision Clinic at Juvenile Hall. While awaiting a promotion to be a probation officer, I had to get evaluated by a psychologist. Told him minute details (didn’t want to sabotage my chances) and about being raised in the church of Christ. The gist of his response--no wonder you are so screwed up. Gee, thanks. That really helped a lot. That sarcastic comment didn’t dissuade us from changing church affiliations.
Living nine months in San Bernardino County resulted in Jonathan and I contracting bronchitis three times each so decided to move to Arkansas where Carl’s parents were living. Coping with Carl’s diabetes became more difficult each and every year. Carl couldn’t get it, couldn’t accept it and continued to live as he saw fit.
Worry and frustration were constant. Restless nights of sleep. A son who the older he got the more defiant and the more volatile my mood swings became upon provocation. The yo-yo dieting and the increased exercise (added Tae Bo) pulled me further into depression. Suicidal thoughts could not be ignored. I knew the anguish many felt when a family member ended his life and knew I could not add to that heartache. Reverting back to the anorexia seemed to be the best solution of stopping the pain without actually pulling a trigger, slitting a wrist, or popping a bottle of pills. Calling the suicide hotline my only voice of reason. At times wondered if I was bipolar because of the erratic mood swings but it didn’t seem to compare to those few friends I knew wore that label.
I’m ashamed of many things but mostly the abuse raged against my son. Words a parent should never say in the moment to their child and uttered with such contempt. Words once spilled out can never be taken back. At times a slap on the face, a kick in the butt, or a tight grab of the wrist but there was no excuse for even those few incidents. Jonathan never hit back, but I’m sure he lost all respect for me and who can blame him. I didn’t have much for myself and it just verified another reason for my self-loathing. Although forgiven, I’m still seeking atonement.
(to be continued)
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - PART 9
When life was relatively calm it was easier to function with the wavering mood swings and eating cycles and tried to make some changes. At church became interested in sign language and started attending functions with the singles’ group, where I met Carl. Can’t say it was love at first sight. As a matter of fact, not interested at all in the beginning but soon how could you not be--Carl was very personable, comfortable to be around, and easy to talk to. (Miraculously my female plumbing returned to working mode.)
Carl introduced me to the world of a Type 1 diabetic. Insulin injections, pricking fingertips several times a day to test blood sugars, realizing when blood sugar levels are low and the actions necessary to avert the onset of a reaction. It was to be a constant learning process for the next 19 years.
Life before marriage and even after the engagement wasn’t always smooth sailing--smoking, drinking, and finding out about former marriages. During this same time I was promoted to a probation-parole officer and worked in the presentence unit interviewing defendants and investigating their backgrounds to determine a sentencing recommendation to the judge. Really did like my job except for one factor--going inside the jail or state penitentiary. It wouldn’t bother me now but then there was something about the environment and hearing those cell doors close. The stress took its toll on my stomach and after nine months resigned to work for a national research and development laboratory earning more salary.
Carl and I broke up but eventually found our way back. With the job change, breakup, reengagement, new job, and upcoming wedding my stomach aches and cramping became more severe. When something in your body goes awry, the first automatic response is cancer. Went to a gastroenterologist who diagnosed it as irritable bowel syndrome (IBS). Worry and stress aggrevate the symptoms. (It amazes me how doctors can look at, poke and prod for a few seconds and determine a diagnosis.) The doc gave me some over-the-counter fiber therapy samples to try. Metamucil was awful and Citracil tasted like Tang. Not hard to guess which one I chose and still use it to this day. I’m very surprised it hasn’t turned into an ulcer.
Can’t say the first two months of marriage were uneventful--I was involved in an automobile accident which luckily only resulted in a minor concussion, and Carl landed in the hospital with a 700+ blood sugar (considered too high if >240). Outside the hallway Lee asked me if Carl drank--an explanation why it was so high. To which I replied with an emphatic, “No!” and would later learn about my naivety. Lee’s face spoke volumes. I had given up the painstaking efforts to get Carl to take care of himself especially at meal time. Carl did as he pleased, but I still felt guilty and believed it was my fault for his hospitalization. Told Carl about Lee’s accusation which he resoundingly denied. I believed him and Carl no longer wanted Lee as his doctor (do you suppose that was a clue?).
Six months into the marriage I felt nauseated for a couple of weeks. A coworker suggested I might be pregnant and told me to go see the doctor. I laughed all the way to the office--years ago doctors told Carl that he had a low sperm count and the chances of having kids were pretty much zilch. Relayed this spiel to the nurse who could relate--the doctors told her husband the same thing. They now have three kids. Waited over the weekend for the results. On Monday the call came in--I was pregnant and called Carl at work. He fell out of his chair but was extremely happy. When I called my parents, there was silence. Guess it was the shock of imminent grandparenthood. I continued to work and the concept of gaining weight did not bode well for me. Started losing weight and after being weighed at the doctor’s office, Dr. Thompson was livid and chewed me out royally and ordered me to go home, pack a bag, and check in at the hospital admitting desk that afternoon. Stayed in the hospital for a week and was fed intravenously for the first few days. Received consultations from a psychiatrist and a dietician about the necessity of eating for two and to appease my fears associated with gaining weight. It was hard but there was a reason not to backslide--the unborn baby.
Went through the first trimester with absolute nausea and didn’t get any better and missed a lot of work so I was given an early maternity leave. Unfortunately the nausea lasted the entire term. Was all stomach with bean pole legs and although safe to keep running, chose to take daily walks of one hour. The smell of popcorn made me want to barf.
Carl would be returning home from a business trip on the day Jonathan was born. That day would not be spent enduring long hours of labor. Always wondered when you knew it was time. Had contractions in the early morning but Carl’s niece, Angel, said if you walk around and the pains disappear, it’s false labor. Stayed with my parents while Carl was away. Although somewhat uncomfortable, went with my parents while they bought a new mobile home then on to clean the new mobile home Carl, Jonathan, and I would be moving to after the birth. Became tired in the early afternoon and went home to rest. Mom and Dad went next door to visit a neighbor who had returned home from the hospital, and I told them I’d be fine. Within ten minutes my water broke and called Jerry to send my parents home. It was around 4:30 p.m. By the time we got to the hospital it was 5:30 and Angel was my backup coach. I was already 9 centimeters and Jonathan was born at 6:15. Didn’t even get to use my goody bag. Carl’s parents met him at the airport and told him he was a new dad. Think it was a good thing that Carl wasn’t in the delivery room--would have either passed out or had an insulin reaction.
Jonathan had jaundice and stayed in an incubator the first week of life. The doctor made arrangements for us to take the equipment home so he would not have to stay in the hospital. It was heartbreaking seeing his little body lying inside a rectangular glass box, eyes covered with tiny white patches. The first day it was learned that while breastfeeding, I could no longer eat chocolate--it went right through Jonathan.
(to be continued)
Carl introduced me to the world of a Type 1 diabetic. Insulin injections, pricking fingertips several times a day to test blood sugars, realizing when blood sugar levels are low and the actions necessary to avert the onset of a reaction. It was to be a constant learning process for the next 19 years.
Life before marriage and even after the engagement wasn’t always smooth sailing--smoking, drinking, and finding out about former marriages. During this same time I was promoted to a probation-parole officer and worked in the presentence unit interviewing defendants and investigating their backgrounds to determine a sentencing recommendation to the judge. Really did like my job except for one factor--going inside the jail or state penitentiary. It wouldn’t bother me now but then there was something about the environment and hearing those cell doors close. The stress took its toll on my stomach and after nine months resigned to work for a national research and development laboratory earning more salary.
Carl and I broke up but eventually found our way back. With the job change, breakup, reengagement, new job, and upcoming wedding my stomach aches and cramping became more severe. When something in your body goes awry, the first automatic response is cancer. Went to a gastroenterologist who diagnosed it as irritable bowel syndrome (IBS). Worry and stress aggrevate the symptoms. (It amazes me how doctors can look at, poke and prod for a few seconds and determine a diagnosis.) The doc gave me some over-the-counter fiber therapy samples to try. Metamucil was awful and Citracil tasted like Tang. Not hard to guess which one I chose and still use it to this day. I’m very surprised it hasn’t turned into an ulcer.
Can’t say the first two months of marriage were uneventful--I was involved in an automobile accident which luckily only resulted in a minor concussion, and Carl landed in the hospital with a 700+ blood sugar (considered too high if >240). Outside the hallway Lee asked me if Carl drank--an explanation why it was so high. To which I replied with an emphatic, “No!” and would later learn about my naivety. Lee’s face spoke volumes. I had given up the painstaking efforts to get Carl to take care of himself especially at meal time. Carl did as he pleased, but I still felt guilty and believed it was my fault for his hospitalization. Told Carl about Lee’s accusation which he resoundingly denied. I believed him and Carl no longer wanted Lee as his doctor (do you suppose that was a clue?).
Six months into the marriage I felt nauseated for a couple of weeks. A coworker suggested I might be pregnant and told me to go see the doctor. I laughed all the way to the office--years ago doctors told Carl that he had a low sperm count and the chances of having kids were pretty much zilch. Relayed this spiel to the nurse who could relate--the doctors told her husband the same thing. They now have three kids. Waited over the weekend for the results. On Monday the call came in--I was pregnant and called Carl at work. He fell out of his chair but was extremely happy. When I called my parents, there was silence. Guess it was the shock of imminent grandparenthood. I continued to work and the concept of gaining weight did not bode well for me. Started losing weight and after being weighed at the doctor’s office, Dr. Thompson was livid and chewed me out royally and ordered me to go home, pack a bag, and check in at the hospital admitting desk that afternoon. Stayed in the hospital for a week and was fed intravenously for the first few days. Received consultations from a psychiatrist and a dietician about the necessity of eating for two and to appease my fears associated with gaining weight. It was hard but there was a reason not to backslide--the unborn baby.
Went through the first trimester with absolute nausea and didn’t get any better and missed a lot of work so I was given an early maternity leave. Unfortunately the nausea lasted the entire term. Was all stomach with bean pole legs and although safe to keep running, chose to take daily walks of one hour. The smell of popcorn made me want to barf.
Carl would be returning home from a business trip on the day Jonathan was born. That day would not be spent enduring long hours of labor. Always wondered when you knew it was time. Had contractions in the early morning but Carl’s niece, Angel, said if you walk around and the pains disappear, it’s false labor. Stayed with my parents while Carl was away. Although somewhat uncomfortable, went with my parents while they bought a new mobile home then on to clean the new mobile home Carl, Jonathan, and I would be moving to after the birth. Became tired in the early afternoon and went home to rest. Mom and Dad went next door to visit a neighbor who had returned home from the hospital, and I told them I’d be fine. Within ten minutes my water broke and called Jerry to send my parents home. It was around 4:30 p.m. By the time we got to the hospital it was 5:30 and Angel was my backup coach. I was already 9 centimeters and Jonathan was born at 6:15. Didn’t even get to use my goody bag. Carl’s parents met him at the airport and told him he was a new dad. Think it was a good thing that Carl wasn’t in the delivery room--would have either passed out or had an insulin reaction.
Jonathan had jaundice and stayed in an incubator the first week of life. The doctor made arrangements for us to take the equipment home so he would not have to stay in the hospital. It was heartbreaking seeing his little body lying inside a rectangular glass box, eyes covered with tiny white patches. The first day it was learned that while breastfeeding, I could no longer eat chocolate--it went right through Jonathan.
(to be continued)
Sunday, June 3, 2007
HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - PART 8
LAPD was hiring and the written test would be waived if an applicant had a college degree. Had turned down an opportunity to apply to the Dallas PD after graduation so decided to take a chance. It also would be the motivational factor to help me gain weight and get into shape in order to pass the physical agility test. Don’t remember how much I ate, but many lunches consisted of two hot dogs and a milkshake.
The agility test was on a Sunday and would decide where to stay the night before after my arrival. Mom told me to call a friend who worked at Pepperdine, but wanted to do this on my own. Flew to LA, got on a bus and had no clue where I was going. Pulled the cord and stepped off the bus as this seemed to be an appropriate location and would find a hotel. Turned out to be Hollywood and Vine and walked a few blocks until I found reasonable accommodations. (Luckily passed up one where the cops regularly came a calling for some criminal activity or another.) Walked around for a couple of hours, decided where to have dinner and went back to the hotel room. Ended up calling Jenny who was appalled after telling her where I was. She told me not to go out after dark and would pick me up in the morning and take me to the academy. Well, I knew what I was having for dinner so did go out and walked at a rapid pace for several blocks and picked up my burger, onion rings, and shake. There were many tourists milling around so didn’t think there was too much need for concern.
Arrived at the academy. There it was--LAPD Academy--the sign I had seen numerous times in the opening credits of Charlie’s Angels. Got through each phase of the test without any trouble and outran many of the guys there. It was on to the six foot wall--had climbed over the backyard wall many times and this seemed easy enough. Almost but not quite and after several attempts had to stop. I could return during the week and learn the proper technique in order to pass but gave up. Jenny had waited for me the entire time and took me back to the Malibu campus to stay with her until I got a flight back home. Disappointment and feelings of failure emerged again. So, a six-foot wall kept me from becoming an LA cop. Many thought that was a good thing.
The Albuquerque PD was hiring and I had to take the written test. Passed with flying colors but looked at what comprised their agility test. Pulling a patrol car several feet--what’s the use and decided not to continue in the hiring process. Had been keeping up with my eating but after awhile thought I would become fat (or should I say, lose control) and after realizing I needed that amount to maintain my weight, it was too late--had dropped down to around 105. The cycle was starting all over again.
Applied to the FBI but couldn’t get past the personality profile phase. Decided the closest thing to a detective would be a probation officer so took the state test to get on the eligibility list. In the meantime, continued working at Bankruptcy Court. Got an interview for a probation-parole officer (PPO) position. Received a call at work--I didn’t get the job but was their second choice. Went into the bathroom and cried. Wasn’t working enough hours at the court so was hired as a secretary at a law firm.
One of the supervisors who had interviewed me for the PPO position called and told me about an opening as a secretary in the Probation Department and made arrangements for me to take the test. It was a way to get my foot in the door. Got the job and would be working in the same unit as the individual who had been chosen for the PPO job earlier, but Anita and I became fast friends. Had to wait 1-½ years before landing that promotion.
(to be continued)
The agility test was on a Sunday and would decide where to stay the night before after my arrival. Mom told me to call a friend who worked at Pepperdine, but wanted to do this on my own. Flew to LA, got on a bus and had no clue where I was going. Pulled the cord and stepped off the bus as this seemed to be an appropriate location and would find a hotel. Turned out to be Hollywood and Vine and walked a few blocks until I found reasonable accommodations. (Luckily passed up one where the cops regularly came a calling for some criminal activity or another.) Walked around for a couple of hours, decided where to have dinner and went back to the hotel room. Ended up calling Jenny who was appalled after telling her where I was. She told me not to go out after dark and would pick me up in the morning and take me to the academy. Well, I knew what I was having for dinner so did go out and walked at a rapid pace for several blocks and picked up my burger, onion rings, and shake. There were many tourists milling around so didn’t think there was too much need for concern.
Arrived at the academy. There it was--LAPD Academy--the sign I had seen numerous times in the opening credits of Charlie’s Angels. Got through each phase of the test without any trouble and outran many of the guys there. It was on to the six foot wall--had climbed over the backyard wall many times and this seemed easy enough. Almost but not quite and after several attempts had to stop. I could return during the week and learn the proper technique in order to pass but gave up. Jenny had waited for me the entire time and took me back to the Malibu campus to stay with her until I got a flight back home. Disappointment and feelings of failure emerged again. So, a six-foot wall kept me from becoming an LA cop. Many thought that was a good thing.
The Albuquerque PD was hiring and I had to take the written test. Passed with flying colors but looked at what comprised their agility test. Pulling a patrol car several feet--what’s the use and decided not to continue in the hiring process. Had been keeping up with my eating but after awhile thought I would become fat (or should I say, lose control) and after realizing I needed that amount to maintain my weight, it was too late--had dropped down to around 105. The cycle was starting all over again.
Applied to the FBI but couldn’t get past the personality profile phase. Decided the closest thing to a detective would be a probation officer so took the state test to get on the eligibility list. In the meantime, continued working at Bankruptcy Court. Got an interview for a probation-parole officer (PPO) position. Received a call at work--I didn’t get the job but was their second choice. Went into the bathroom and cried. Wasn’t working enough hours at the court so was hired as a secretary at a law firm.
One of the supervisors who had interviewed me for the PPO position called and told me about an opening as a secretary in the Probation Department and made arrangements for me to take the test. It was a way to get my foot in the door. Got the job and would be working in the same unit as the individual who had been chosen for the PPO job earlier, but Anita and I became fast friends. Had to wait 1-½ years before landing that promotion.
(to be continued)
Friday, June 1, 2007
HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - PART 7
Back at home went to our family doctor who also was a member at church. After a thorough examination Lee’s diagnosis--mild anorexia. It might as will have been a foreign word--had never heard anything about it. My parents didn’t understand it and for a long time I blamed them for letting this happen and not doing anything about it before it reached this level, but there really wasn’t any information about it at that time. An eating disorder that can cause major health problems and where you are literally starving yourself to death. An issue not discussed with as much intensity as it is now or the impact generated after Karen Carpenter’s death in 1983. The “mild” slapped in front of it possibly because my weight wasn’t at a severe enough level. Lee referred me to a psychiatrist.
Had several therapy sessions with the shrink. My belief was that I had a fear of getting fat, but the doc said that was the cart before the horse and concluded that my fear was losing control. Yes, that made sense. Refused to take any medications so he sent me to another specialist who used hypnosis in his practice. It was an odd sensation--had always seen it done on TV shows or on one of those talk shows where someone will hypnotize a person to act like a duck or do some other ridiculous antic. Remember lying on a couch (yeah, that actually does happen) and focusing on a swinging oval shaped object. It’s like you’re awake and can hear everything being said. Can’t repeat verbatim all the doc said but the gist of it was that I could eat without any worries or anxieties. For a week ate without any hang-ups and felt like I had been released after years of being in solitary confinement. The doctor wanted to see me again to reinforce the procedure. This time everything was reversed, and I was back behind bars. Stopped going to therapy--just wasn’t doing any good.
Watched news stories, documentaries, and made-for-TV movies regarding anorexia or other types of eating disorders to get some insight on the subject matter and hopefully find a solution to my problem. The more I watched, the worse Mom thought I became but didn’t consider myself as bad as those televised and learned the extremes some will go to stay thin. One concept was the use of laxatives. Stomach cramps along with diarrhea--not something I’d want to do. Bulimia was on the opposite end of the spectrum. Shoveling insane amounts of food into the mouth and then spewing it out using self-induced methods. Let’s see--kneeling in front of the toilet, sticking a finger down your throat and puking your guts out until there is nothing left with the aftermath of a burning esophagus. Although loved the idea of eating lots of food especially the fats and sugars that were so limited in my daily intake, the vomiting aspect left a lot to be desired--hated it when I had the flu. It would appear that eating very little or exercising more than I consumed would be my MO.
(to be continued)
Had several therapy sessions with the shrink. My belief was that I had a fear of getting fat, but the doc said that was the cart before the horse and concluded that my fear was losing control. Yes, that made sense. Refused to take any medications so he sent me to another specialist who used hypnosis in his practice. It was an odd sensation--had always seen it done on TV shows or on one of those talk shows where someone will hypnotize a person to act like a duck or do some other ridiculous antic. Remember lying on a couch (yeah, that actually does happen) and focusing on a swinging oval shaped object. It’s like you’re awake and can hear everything being said. Can’t repeat verbatim all the doc said but the gist of it was that I could eat without any worries or anxieties. For a week ate without any hang-ups and felt like I had been released after years of being in solitary confinement. The doctor wanted to see me again to reinforce the procedure. This time everything was reversed, and I was back behind bars. Stopped going to therapy--just wasn’t doing any good.
Watched news stories, documentaries, and made-for-TV movies regarding anorexia or other types of eating disorders to get some insight on the subject matter and hopefully find a solution to my problem. The more I watched, the worse Mom thought I became but didn’t consider myself as bad as those televised and learned the extremes some will go to stay thin. One concept was the use of laxatives. Stomach cramps along with diarrhea--not something I’d want to do. Bulimia was on the opposite end of the spectrum. Shoveling insane amounts of food into the mouth and then spewing it out using self-induced methods. Let’s see--kneeling in front of the toilet, sticking a finger down your throat and puking your guts out until there is nothing left with the aftermath of a burning esophagus. Although loved the idea of eating lots of food especially the fats and sugars that were so limited in my daily intake, the vomiting aspect left a lot to be desired--hated it when I had the flu. It would appear that eating very little or exercising more than I consumed would be my MO.
(to be continued)
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