I am not a doctor but I play one on TV

I have raved a little about Sloan Kettering but basically if you dont know what it is, it is the number one cancer hospital in the country and maybe even the world. They have saved two special people that I know with the most rare cancers and that makes me believe that they are the best.

I am sure people have had experiences that make them believe that it may not be the best cancer hospital but I have to go on my own experience and it has always been amazing.

Except of course for the long hours of waiting and the fact that when you go there you have CANCER!!

So Hubby was diagnosed with Synovial Sarcoma in 1993. He had two fingers amputated on his left hand and he went to Sloan Kettering every 3 months for the first couple of years for checkups. Every time we saw Dr. Boland.

Doctor Boland is a tall white haired man with a thick Irish Brogue. As far as I am concerned, he is GOD. He is the rare type of doctor who cares, really cares. He sits down in the room when he comes in. He tells the truth. Good, bad or ugly.

So sometime during the first couple of years following the initial diagnosis, Hubby finds a lump in his shoulder.

Diagnosis at original detection... cut it out from wherever it is. If you can cut it out then its ok, fingers, arms, legs, feet ok

neck, hip, spine. death sentence.

Shoulders not so sure.

Dr. Boland, GOD, told us that most likely if the cancer came back it would be in his lungs. So he had a chest xray each time.

And when it came out fine... we went to dinner in Manhattan.

We discovered Brother Jimmys, which no joke has a flashing neon sign that says
Meat/Eat right over the neon pig. The floor is made of plywood and there are rude signs everywhere. But it has the best ribs you could ever eat, with mashed potatoes and corn bread and the most giant mind eraser drink you could ever want. It has a giant plastic shark sticking out of the top and is served in a fish bowl.

So now there is a lump in his shoulder and we are freaking out. For real because again shoulders, not so sure. He has learned at this point to do most things without the fingers but if he has to have his arm amputated past his shoulder, his career as an electrician is over. And hopefully just that and not his life.


So we make an appointment to see God and they take our calls like we are old friends because being one of only 8 people in the country with this cancer in this spot, we are kinda famous,

That and the fact that we used D3 as entertainment.

We get an appointment right away and we go in and Dr. Boland is really nervous. I can tell he thinks it may be back.

He comes in, examines Hubby, leaves, comes back, leaves again.... brings in someone else... leaves, comes back later and is like ok come with me.

We trust him, so we follow. He tells us that because we come from so far away and because he wants to take care of this immediately he wants to take the lump out and biopsy it. now. today. this minute.

He is not really supposed to do this so we are sneaking into an empty surgery room downstairs.

I am not kidding. We are looking around corners and sneaking around.

We go into the surgery room and he has an assistant and he is like Nancy come on in. So being completely obsessed with medical procedures I go in.

He has the assistant prepare his shoulder and then asks the assistant to go get something.

Now we know why the wait for Dr. Boland has sometimes exceeded 5 hours. 5 hours like as in our appointment is at 10am and at 245 we are called into a room.

We laugh when we hear first timers after 30 minutes of waiting say "Um I have been waiting for a half an hour, how much longer is it gonna be?"

Fact is... when someone is saving your life, you wait. With a smile.

So I am in surgery...

and Dr. Boland begins to cut into his shoulder.

he pauses.

"Where are my glasses?"

Nancy can you look in my jacket hanging on the back of the door?

I take out his glasses and he is like

I am already sterile Can you put these on me?

So I start to put his glasses on and he is over 6 ft and I am standing on my toes and poking him in the ears with the glasses and he bends down and I think...

this is a story I will tell for years.

So he takes out what appears to be a new tumor.

He puts it in a jar.

Nancy can you get me the anesthesia.

What???

Yeah take that needle and stick it in that bottle and pull down and fill the needle up with blah blah blah. Then bring it to me.

He shoots him up with blah blah blah.

He leaves.

He comes back in and says "I am not sure". He leaves and comes back. He stitches Hubby up (like Frankenstein)The scar is gnarly. And he says "It may be back". We say okay. He says "Well it has irregular margins but you never know" "Well if its back we will have to amputate.... well lets see."

They stitch him up, shoot him up with anesthesia, give him a prescription for pain killers and send us home. We took the train and two subways to get there so guess what?

We have to take 2 subways and a train to get home.

So we go to Genovese to pick up the drugs, give him one and get on subway 1.

Now Hubby is bandaged and drugged and we get on the first subway and I am trying to shield him from the crazy New Yorkers.

And he is getting more and more drugged and I am not sure how to get back...is it the 6 train and then the E train? or the other way around? Do I get off at Lexington Ave?

We finally get back to the Ronkonkoma train station and we own a pickup truck that I have to drive home.

Princesses dont drive pickups.

I guess they do surgery though.



Ps. They called about two weeks later and said it was an infected hair follicle that turned into a fatty mass. but no cancer. I remember hearing the messages and falling against the wall and feeling so greatful. I try to remember that feeling of gratitude in times of stress.

Like when Hubby is snoring.

I'm Back

Did you miss me?

Well I was sitting down to do my homework...

I even have the book right next to me.

Yes I am hoping it jumps out of the book into my head.

... and I heard through the grapevine (namely daughters 3 and 4) that I had a comment on my blog.

My first comment...I am touched. No really... dear anonymous commenter. It made my day.

I will admit that I was very sad that no one had commented but then I heard through the grapevine, (ellen and daughter 3) that the comment section was broken.

or I just set the page up wrong. either way no one is pointing any fingers.

but it is fixed and i hope that means more comments. hint hint

So how can I dissapoint my fans(fan)? That would be wrong to look that anonymous commenter in the face and say No I dont have time for you, I have to do my homework, you are on your own for procrastination activities. Not me people I am willing to sacrifice for my fan base.

Now I do feel somewhat guilty because Hubby so generously offered to take D3 to violin lessons so I could stay home and do my homework. And D4 wanted me to go with him because she said I would distract her from doing her homework. Do you believe that?

I am not a bad influence on my kids.

Hardly ever do I insist that we skip actual food and eat Ben and Jerrys for dinner.

FYI If you get NY Superfudge Chunk, there are nuts and nuts are protein, kinda, and there is cream which is calcium and dark chocolate lowers blood pressure. So its not soooo bad.

And only once or twice have I laughed so hard at a fart joke or when D3 says ASS in the clover voice, that I spit my drink out.

And maybe my little doggie knows that she can sleep on the chair when I am there and not Hubby because I hug her when she is on the chair and he screams in her face.

So what that I colored D4 hairs pink or took D2 to the tattoo parlor to get her ear cartlidge pierced?

Does that make me a bad influence?

Now because I am old and losing my mind, I had this great idea for a blog this morning but I worked on two papers that were due today and I booked my hotel room for DC this weekend and then I checked my email and then, perfect timing my friend called and saved me from doing any more work, but I forgot about the blog idea.

And now I have babbled and wasted my blogging time on stupid crap.

In the midst of all this blogging, D1 called with an itching crisis, D2 called on my cell phone which I ignored because no one ever calls on my cell phone at this hour until I realized it was her but when I called her back she ignored my call, D3 and hubby came back from violin and D3 had to check facebook for messages, and D4 cannot do her lab because she is just as bad of a procrastinator as me.

So... I am waiting patiently for Hubby to stop watching Led Zeppelin on TV so I can watch the makeover show on Americas Next Top Model.

And I can blog about the he/she who somehow wore a bikini last show? Color me baffled???

WEll every kid of mine has been in crisis mode tonight between decisions about money, health, homework and social activities. My blogging has been interuppted one time too many.

I just want cookies and America's Next Top Model.

I have lost my spark for writing in my blog because I am exhausted and emotionally drained from all this Superwoman stuff I am doing.

I will blog again.

Soon.

I promise dear fans.

Microbiology and Cell Biology

Somewhere along the line I decided I needed to go back to school. It was somewhere around the time that I was sick and thinking I really need a career and not just a job. Caught between helping other people and wanting to do that for a living, I decided to go back to school for Genetic Counseling.

I went to Stony Brook University when I graduated high school.

Well let me just clarify that. I was accepted to Stony Brook, I registered there for classes and on the days when I had classes there I got in my '72 Cutlass and headed there from my house about 10 miles away.

What usually happened was by no fault of my own... my car would drive itself from my house, head towards Stony Brook, and then veer off at the last minute to the Mall. I would spend the day shopping at Lerners and then return home later with fake stories of my classes and people I had met.

So I wasted the whole first semester this way and then since I was already engaged, I officially dropped out, got a great job in a bank making 180 dollars a week and I thought, hell who needs college. I am making the big bucks, driving a hot little sports car(called a yugo) and about to marry the man of my dreams. Who needs an education? I just spent 13 years in school,faking my way through and fooling my teachers when I was learning absolutely nothing.

I went back to school in 1990 and I wanted to be an accountant. I know, the most boring job on creation, but it made good money and I always loved math. I took macro and micro economics, principles of accounting and business classes. But honestly the most valuable class i ever took was Oral Communications. I learned how to speak in front of a large group and honestly I have always felt comfortable since then speaking out loud.

OK so if you have known me in the last 18 years of my life you are like, sure Nancy, convince yourself you weren't always a chronic talker, but honestly, I could never speak out loud until that class.

I wanted to go back to school as soon as we closed the store but with the Fat Bastard stealing everything and not paying us a dime, I had no way of paying so I waited.

I waited until I was 40 and I couldn't wait any longer. I waited until I knew if I didn't start, I never would. And I just did it. I registered and took 3 classes and have continued for the last 3 semesters.

So being the biggest procrastinator with an incredible idea that I am superwoman, I registered for 16 credits this semester and ordered my books in June so I would have the summer to work on half the credits.

Can you guess what happened?

I know I cant believe it either. The whole summer went by and I didn't work on it as much as I would have liked.

OK OK I barely worked on it at all. Well first I was just taking a short break... then I was remodeling the house... and then... you know... the blog took over.

So it is with a heavy heart and a sadness that I never thought possible that I must take a small break from blogging.

I have 6 Cell Biology Chapters to read in the next 3 weeks and 6 Microbiology chapters. I also have 4 one page papers and 2 6 page papers due for Health Psychology and Multicultural Social Work.

And all I do is blog. All I want to do is blog and I wonder... do I want to be a writer? I have never even thought of this as a possibility. maybe its like singing... maybe I like to do it but maybe I just suck at it.

I think I should stick to Genetic Counseling. Disease and medicine... that appeals to me more than writing... It is solid and there is no genetic counseling block that could stop me from doing my job, plus I could start diagnosing people and prescribing medication legally now instead of as a hobby.

So check back soon but for the next few days... i must study, for real, not how I fakely do each day and really blog instead. I must read about cells and the endoplasmic reticulum and the mitochondria(the powerhouse of the cell) and stop reading the blogs of note.

For now I will DVR my shows, prison break, the biggest loser, survivor and all the other reality shows and I will only turn on my computer to check my email and my bank balance and I will become the expert on cells. And then I will blog more intelligently about how cells work and maybe I will discover a cure for a famous disease and they will name it the Nancy disease.

I like that the Nancy disease. Maybe I will learn to like my name then.

maybe not.

Someone stole my identity

Ok so its no secret if you live with me that I have been less than content with the fact that no one reads my blog. Even my family who once pretended to find it interesting is just getting bored of the same old stuff I have to say.

Granted they have heard these stories multiple times or that I am constantly droning on about something at every moment but I still feel sad that I am not the interesting person I thought I was.

So today I am about to sit down and try again to do my homework which pretty much means Time to Blog and I saw blogs of note and thought the title was catchy, Clever Girl Goes Blog.

I started reading her blog and realize, wow, this girl has stolen my identity. I haven't read all the blogs because lets face it I do have some sort of a life, or really I just promised my family my famous chicken parm, but what I have read, scary.

I mean OK I don't really love cats, in fact when I see a dead one I am like Woohoo one less cat in the world and I haven't been divorced because... well I just still love my husband, but her love of 80's movies, yeah that's dead on.

Now I do realize that alerting people to her blog will make them stop reading my blog but then I remembered that no one is reading my blog anyway so its really fine.

I did really identify with her being two different people, the blogger and the not so blogger. Problem for me... I have great stories, from work, from family, from things I overhear all the time... and yeah I am a little bit of a creepy stalker that way.

I have been known to stay quiet hiding behind my backyard tree, real stealth like, to overhear the neighbors across the street talk about their son in rehab. Or to gaze out my dining room window as I pretend to clean them in order to see what the newlyweds are fighting about or why they don't even seem to like each other.

But I worry that the stories will hurt other peoples feelings or that someone reading them will think I am more nuts than I really am.

Like wishing cats dead or relating all my life experiences to a song.

So her blog is about her life and her thoughts and it is really good.

And I know I have a lot of interesting thoughts too. And while I was eating the best chicken parm I have ever made I came upon a realization about why my blog is not as exciting as some others I have read.

I am a mother. That's why. Everything I say and do comes under scrutiny of the most critical eyes in the world. My children. I have read blogs about sex, drugs and rock and roll along with opinions on gay marriage and other hot political topics and I realize... my kids would be horrified if I gave out this much information about our lives, their lives, etc etc.


I have incredibly amazing stories about Hubby and I over the years, how our love has changed and grown and how still after all these years he looks at me like he did when we were 18 and newly in love. In his eyes, the years of fat and grey hair and wrinkles and wear and tear melt away and I am standing there with my Madonna fingerless lace gloves and lace headband with my red pumps and my rabbit fur coat arriving for our secret honeymoon in Disney world.

Some of these stories are sharable some of them can only be told in the cone of silence that I will refer to as the basement, where since Mario left, there are no topics that are off limits.

I have stories of my mothering, things I am proud of, things I am horrified about, that can never be spoken of in a public forum for fear my kids would use it against me at a later date. Remember that time you forgot D3 at gymnastics? 3 times?

Friends and family that have disappointed me so greatly that the stories are tragic and heart wrenching, but again, there are kids involved and that wouldn't be fair to them. You can read that on another blog Silhouette of Hope.

So for now I guess my blog will have to go on being unread, a little boring and mostly admired by only me when I forget what I have written about and amuse myself with my own stories.

Thats the great thing about losing your mind. Everything that was old seems new again.

Hey maybe I will start a blog.
haha

Its a girl March 1987 part 2

I woke up in the middle of the night the other day realizing... I never blogged about Daughter #1's actual birth. I knew I talked about it once but I couldnt remember telling the most important parts of the story.

So here goes...

I am 19, living with my parents because Hubby was sent to Virginia first and then California second, my first child, what the hell did I know?

First I am seeing the doctor that delivered my sister and yes he is ancient. He first tells me that Daughter #1 is breech and that I will need a C-section. Turns out she turned in time. Then about a week before my due date he tells me that my military insurance is not going to pay him enough and that my mother will need to give him 500 dollars on the side. So of course we leave there like F@#$% you and we attempt to find a doctor that will accept military insurance. The only one we can find is the Stonybrook University Clinic. So I call on March 1st, Hi I am due next week and I need an appointment, Um yeah our next open appointment is April 26th. Um yeah my due date is March 7th. Yeah well sorry. No you dont understand blah blah blah, ok they squeeze me in for March 5th at 1pm. I go there and they take blood and examine me and are like you are already dilated, you arent gonna make it through the weekend. Its a Thursday.

I go home and they call and they are like Oh my god you have gestational diabetes you must come in tomorrow 8am for more tests. Oh ok.

Nightime comes and my back hurts so bad. I fall asleep but i wake up around 11pm and I go into my parents room and they are still awake. I am like, oh man my back is killing me and my mother says, go sit in daddys chair and watch tv for awhile.

So I sit in the big brown chair in the den watching tv... all night long. I cant fall asleep because my back hurts so bad and I really have no idea that I am in labor.

When my father gets up to go to work in the morning at 6am I am still in the chair and he is like, are you still here? And I am like yeah my back is killing me. He wakes up my mother who is like holy crap maybe you are in labor.

Well I have an appointment anyway at Stony Brook so we go off to the doctor. I go in and I am telling them that I am there for more blood sugar tests but that I think i am in labor. So they send me up to labor and delivery and they are like yeah you are in labor but you have a long way to go so go walk around the mall.

Haha Ha... walk around the mall? I have been up all night and I am enormously fat and there is no way in hell I am doing that. They tell me that I am dehydrated so I go home and drink large quantities of Hawaiian Punch. I almost turned into that giant glass pitcher that breaks through the wall I drank so much. If you are too young to remember this reference look it up on line.

So I wait home for about 12 hours. 12 hours of Hawaiian punch drinking and watching tv. At around 8 pm my father, my mother and I head off to the hospital with my stuffed animal in hand.

Oops I forgot about the fact that Hubby was in California and I had called him at 7am California time. He tries to leave California but soon finds out how ridiculous the United States Navy is. They wont let him leave until he is done with his day of school. He doesnt get on a flight until 11pm California time. And he heads east.

I am in the labor room and they tell me that I am not far enough to be admitted. I start crying and my dad is there patting my hand and I am in pain but more so I am so sad that my hubby isnt there. I miss him so much and I want him there when I have his baby.

They hook me up to an IV and they tell me to walk the halls. I am throwing up still after 9 months of morning, afternoon and night sickness and so I am carrying a bucket with my IV pole and literally running from chair to chair and sitting down with each contraction. My mother in law arrives and she and my mother are walking the halls with me and they still are refusing to admitt me. I have really had it. I have been up for over 36 hours at this time, I am in labor alone without my hubby and I am wiped out. I just sit on the chair and refuse to walk and refuse to do anything. The on call doctor finally admits me and they put me in a room and give me morphine so I can sleep. Lets just say... I would have taken anything at that point to get rid of the pain.

So it is what 2am at this point and they admit me and I sleep for about 5 minutes and then I wake up in more pain than ever. Meanwhile hubby is on a plane from California to New york with a stop over in Chicago. He begs to get off the plane in Chicago and they let him knowing his wife is in labor. He calls someone at the hospital to find out if I have had the baby and no I am still in labor after , what are we up to 28 hours at that point?

I might add that Diet Coke is new and I have never drank diet soda but I am craving it like nothing I have ever craved before.

At 7am my water breaks and the doctors are like ok, now you can have an epidural. Wow finally. Well by the time the anesthesiologist comes in and they give me the epidural it is like 9am and hubby is on his way from the airport. Uncle Mike to the rescue. He is driving like he has a heart in his trunk to get hubby to the hospital before I give birth.

Well when he gets there I have already had the epidural and he doesnt even believe the 35 hours of labor I have suffered through so far.

But he gets there in plenty of time and just four hours later our beautiful first daughter is born. Hubbys daddy immediately goes and gets me a diet coke which was probably the best one I have ever had. I go off to my room and hubby goes out to the diner with my family.

The next day my cousin (who was killed in a drunk driving accident)brought me tuna on a bagel. I had loads of visitors who all brought pink bunnies and little pink dresses. It was exhausting and amazing all at the same time.

I wanted so bad to bring my new baby home before hubby had to be back in california Tuesday. I had a fever though and they wouldnt let me go. I begged please I will only have one day with my hubby before he has to go back to the Navy and he will not see her again until she is 6 weeks old. They finally let me go home and we spend one night together with our new baby sleeping on our chest as we squeezed into the bed I grew up in.

My little pink bundle is 21 now and older than I was when she was born. I have loved every bit of it from those days in March when I spent 39 hours waiting for her until now when I just sent her off to her last year of college.

My life as a mom began that day in 1987 and has only gotten better with time. 4 times over. I am grateful for every moment.

Sing...sing a song, sing out loud, sing out strong

My last couple of blogs were just random and bizarre and I really wanted this blog to be stories that my kids knew or maybe didnt know about me. Weird random thoughts constantly infect my head though and it is not always so easy to organize them into ways that make sense to anyone other than myself.

I relate songs to everything in my life. Every happy or traumatic moment has a song attached to it and when I hear the song it brings me right back to that moment. This is not healthy I am sure as I spend a lot of time reliving the past and wondering if I could have done it differently.

When we lived in Florida, near the military base , our friends were all from Alabama, Mississippi, Texas, Louisiana, all the deep south as far as I was concerned. They were afraid that when we moved into the apartment complex they were all living in that we would rob them being from NY and all. Anyway... they always talked about the Civil War and how they could have done it differently to have won. I swear this was a constant topic of conversation. They had groups where you could go and replan the battles of the Civil War so the South could win.

In any case that is what I always think of when I try to "fix" the past in my head and wonder if I could have won the war.

I used to think maybe you loved me, now I know that I'm sure... and I just cant wait for the day when you walk through the door. Now dont want you back for the weekend, not back for a day, No baby I just want you back and I want you to stay...Every time I go for the mailbox gotta hold myself down, cause I just cant wait til you write me your coming around... walking on sunshine... yeah... walking on sunshine.

Ok that was from when Hubby and I were dating and he was away in the Navy. Lots of good lyrics. They played that at our wedding. It brings me right back to the days when I was a senior in high school and all I wanted was to be with hubby and be done with school. I was in Sociology the day after hubby left for the Navy and I was just crying the whole day. I couldnt bear that I wouldnt see him again for at least 8 weeks or even talk to him for that matter.So my sociology teacher, Mr. Bernstein, asked me what was wrong and why I didnt have my homework to hand in. I was very quiet in school and would very rarely trust a teacher but he seemed genuinely concerned and wanting to help me so I said... my boyfriend left for the Navy yesterday. And he said "oh, well is that it, forget it you get a 0 on your homework and really get over it, you're 17 years old" I was completely pissed and couldnt believe how he changed his tune from a concerned teacher to a total bastard in mere seconds. Not long ago my mother ran into his wife somewhere and told her the story of how I still talk about it today of how insensitive he was and how I married that boy and was still married with 4 kids, blah, blah, blah...I dont think he cared any more now or even gave it a second thought. That is what is sad about teachers. They can have such an impact on their students, and they so often fail to recognize that and take that very seriously. Screw you Mr. Bernstein.

Back in black
I hit the sack
It's been too long I'm glad to be back
Yes, I'm let loose
From the noose
That's kept me hanging around
I've been looking at the sky
and it's gettin' me high
Forget the hearse 'cause I never die
I got nine lives
Cats eyes
Cruisin' every woman, never wonderin' why

CHORUS:
'Cause I'm back
Yes, I'm back
Well, I'm back
Yes, I'm back
Well, I'm back, back
Well I'm back in black
Yes, I'm back in black

Ok Seriously. I had to look up the lyrics to this and I realize that I have never known any of them. I just sing along to Back in Black I hit the sack its been too long blah blah blah... I just make up my own words I guess. This song was popular at my 9th grade birthday party. I had a sleepover and all I wanted was the Back in Black album, which my best friend Anna got me. I had a bunch of girls over and as always with girls someone started talking about someone else when they went to the bathroom. A huge fight broke out and half the girls slept in my room while the other half slept in the den. I was really desperate to be friends with the bad kids by now and I had succeeded a little so half the party was the "cool" kids I wanted to be and the other half were great friends that I had been friends with forever. I completely ignored my old friends and I am pretty sure this is the last time most of them talked to me. I was a horrible child and teenager. I was abusive to my parents and probably my sister. I was not a good friend and would easily stab you in the back if I thought it would raise my social level at all. I had no allegiance to anyone. I lacked any confidence at all and I rated my self worth by the people I surrounded myself with. I was a cheerleader and got involved with older girls and people that today I would never let my kids be around. I was the kind of kid that would have joined a cult if the "cool" kids were doing it. It has taken me a lot of years to get past that feeling of not being good enough. I can honestly say at 40, it felt like a weight had been lifted and now I am just me, and I really feel good about that.

When someone said count your blessings now cause there long gone i guess i just didnt know how i was all wrong, But they knew better, still you said forever, who knew. I'll keep you locked in my head until we meet again, and i wont forget you my friend what happened. If someone said 3 years from now, you'd be long gone, I'd stand up and punch them out because their all wrong and that last kiss I'll cherish until we meet again, and the time makes it harder I wish I could remember.But i keep your memory, you visit me in my sleep, my darling who knew.

This is a little harder. I hesitated talking about this mostly because I always wonder someday if she will ever see this blog. Or someone else that will feel uncomfortable with the story. Unlike me I am going to try and tell it without it being skewed to my side. I will tell it unbiasly. I never had a relationship with my sister, Merry. never. we were 4 and 1/2 years apart in age and 5 years apart in school. We were just never on the same page. I was a cheerleader, she played sports. i was getting into trouble she was a rule follower. We were always at different stages of our life. I got married at 18, she was 14. She went off to college at 18, I already had 2 kids. It was partly circumstances, partly personalities. I was meek and nonconfrontational,she was in your face, always telling you exactly what she thought. So all the years go by, I lived away for awhile i moved back home. She laughs about it but seriously she never once babysit my kids or changed a diaper. Never not one time. She wasnt interested, that was really ok with me at the time. I dont remember wanting her to be around, but I always desperately yearned for a sister relationship. I was reminded of how she never watched my kids today when I was telling Daughter 3 about how i used to work in the coatroom when hubby bartended when daughters 1 and 2 were little. i would put them to bed and then my sister in law who was going through radiation treatments for Hodgkins disease would come over and lay on my couch sick as a dog and stay with them while I worked. I never paid her a dime, she would never take it. She was 18, undergoing cancer treatment, going to college and she just wanted to help us out.

So the story goes when my hubby had cancer, merrys husband(they werent married at the time) tizzy took care of daughter 3 while my mother took care of 1 and 2. D3 was between 4-8 weeks old when we were finding out about the cancer and having the surgeries. At their wedding I was the maid of honor, i spent thousands of dollars on the most special gifts for her bridal shower, her engagment gifts, and believe me we didnt have the money, i just wanted it to be so special for my only sister. I really felt like I wanted the relationship way more than she did. Maybe I am wrong and I would be willing to admit that but honestly she never seemed to want me in her life as much as I wanted her. Years and years go by basically we see each other on birthdays, holidays, etc. I hate to point this out but i must, after the falling out with my parents and my sister and tizzy, actually it was before that... i started having every holiday at my house, it was just easier, i had christmas eve, christmas day, thanksgiving, on a rare occasion we would have one of the holidays at my mothers but it was easier with my kids and hubby helping me prepare and really i loved to do it. My mom would buy some of the supplies, but we always assigned my sister something easy, bring the soda or dessert after all she worked all day, she's tired, i never minded this either until all this other stuff happened.

I am rambling and honestly if you dont know this story it is making very little sense. Let me clear it up.

I feel like I was a good sister, I really tried to be there for her but I am sure I wasnt always what she wanted me to be either. I wanted to but our personalities clashed so much, I was very intimidated by her presence. when Tizzy got hurt (read previous blogs) I dropped everything. As far as i was concerned the past was over there was only today and i would be and do everything that was humanly possible for her. I lost a lot. I sacrificed my business, my kids, my hubby. I wanted only for Tizzy to be ok. I never thougt about the long term effects on me and mine, only her and hers. i am sorry. No matter what her side is (and she does have a different side i found out when she and i went to therapy together) she turned her back on me the only time I ever needed her more than i could stand it. The other times i let it go. She wasnt there for me when any of my kids were born, when my husband was sick, when life handed me crap over and over again. Never once was she there to help pick up the pieces. And i gave up everything i held close to my heart for her benefit. and she took it and then walked away. for real. she walked away from me and then when i needed her instead of being able to put it behind her like i did when she needed me, she left me.

there is a cat outside my car window while i am sitting in the care typing this. Random and wierd I know. Is it some kind of sign?

ok sorry, but i am having an unbearable time getting over this. i have changed a lot. i really feel ok with the way things are now. but when the song comes on it brings me right back.



I'm slowly getting closure, i guess its really over, i'm finally getting better,and now i'm picking up the pieces ,spending all those years,putting my heart back together, cause the day i thought i'd never get through I got over you.

Weird random thoughts

I was in 7-11 this morning getting coffee in Syosset, which if you arent familiar with Long Island, is a well to do commnunity, and it was like a twilight zone episode. There were two men at the counter, one was paying for a pack of cigarettes and a lottery ticket with dimes, nickels and pennies. The other guy was arguing heatedly with the guy behind the counter that he had given him a 5 instead of 3 singles. It was bizarre really. One guy counting out change the other guy arguing.

It freaked me out a little after watching One Tree Hill last night.

Why did they have to kill Q? Really, in a gas station robbery shooting?

It did get me thinking though of how many times there are weird things going on inside gas stations and convenience stores and how little we are aware of our own existence.

I know you are thinking why do I have to make every random thought into something outlandish and "deep". This is why I am up nights. My brain just doesnt shut off. I kept thinking about time and relationships and how long we have here on Earth.

I am 40 which means that if I live as long as I have already lived my life is half over. And what have I done? And who have I been? And do these things really matter?

My biggest problem is that I dont think people think like I do. I think I am back to being alone in the blue group(read previous blogs for this reference) and I am struggling with how to effectively accomplish my plan while dealing with complete idiots on a daily basis.

I spend most of my nights thinking about the past and the future and why some of the things I have experienced in my life made me who I am today. I focus on my lost relationships and try to replay them to see if I could have changed anything. I never like losing a friend.

I wonder why people cant see everything my way especially when I have a good argument. I want the people who hurt me in my life to know and feel some sort of regret for what they did.

But most dont which makes me stay up nights plotting my revenge.

I want their to be more people like me.

I am continually baffled by behavior that seems to completely go against the ten commandments because although they are religious, they really make sense. What if everyone was just nice to each other? What if even though I think you may be the biggest idiot I have ever met I respect your right to do it?

Yeah but then these people reproduce and infect all the hard work I have put into raising my kids to be different.

This is a completely irrational blog. I know. But I have to pee, my computer is going dead and I am so hungry. Thats my excuse and I am sticking to it.