Tuesday, May 24, 2011


Poetry is not an opinion expressed.  It is a song that arises from a bleeding heart or a smiling mouth.
Kahlil Gibran

Today is better. Questions answered.

Why do I cry at everyone else's pain?  I can't watch a tv show (not the reality ones) without crying if it's sad.  I try to only watch the ones that aren't sad but every now and then one episode gets me.  I cry when an ambulance drives by flashing its lights and blaring its bells.  I have no idea if anyone is in it but I cry anyway.  Rather embarrassing if I'm with someone.  I cry when I listen to the news on the radio - usually driving to work.  I had to stop listening because my mascara would be streaked down my face when I got to work.  Looking at ads in magazines of children with clef palates they put in the back pages is a no-no.  I quit listening to the news on TV and the ads too.  Everywhere we are bombarded with the horror and cruelty and "accidents" of life.  Now, you say there is just as much joy in life as sadness but where is it?  I see it but not near as much as pain and suffering.  

I'm just tired of it all.  Tired of trying to find my place in this world.  Tired of pain.  Tired of not being able to fix anything.  Tired of complaining about being tired. I don't want to prepare for the future.  I don't want to have any idea of what's going to happen.  I just want to be.  Ah,"to be or not to be, that is the question".   I wonder if he was feeling the same way I'm feeling.

Come back tomorrow and see if I feel the same as today.  Probably not but that's what chaos is made of.  Ignorance.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Oh, NO

Is there anything else that needs to be shoved down my throat? Please don't wait till the "right moment", just say it, I'm a big girl.  And Danny is a big boy.

Danny's check up on Thursday was somewhat as expected but a lot of WTF.  Yes, his heart is getting worse, but we expected that.  Guess I didn't know what comes with "getting worse".  His good side is no longer "good" and probably will need a stent to keep it open.  Thankfully that's like getting a cath, no chest cracking.  And, will need to go back on some meds that are anticoagulants but help in stopping his veins and arteries from blocking.  The docs have to weigh the pros and cons of giving them to him.  But, Rapamune may also reduce the creation of his antibodies.  That was one piece of light.  Now for the slam dunk.  He will never be put on 1A status unless his heart stops or he has a stroke or something "life threatening".  Just because his diagnosis is CAD.  UNOS hasn't updated their rules and regs on heart statuses in forever.  So the only thing I can do is write to UNOS and give them my opinion.  I did offer to punch Danny in the chest while he was there to get it to stop and they could move him up then.  No one liked that idea.  But it's a mother's grasp.

He worries about me worrying.  I worry about him worrying about me.  Vicious circle.  But we agreed to worry together for a few minutes and do what we gotta do.  We are big kids.  

I am planning on going to Canada if nothing is going on with Danny.  That will make him feel better because he's not holding me back.  First time I've left Atlanta without him in 7 years.

I don't feel like writing anymore.  And.....I'm not giving up my space on the beach.....yet.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Beach vs Forest

I'm standing on the beach watching the waves crash at my feet. There is more light in the sky or maybe I've lifted my head up enough that my eyes are becoming more aware of the world around me. 

I've been walking up and down the beach for ages now.  Walking by the spot where I landed that night.  You'd have thought the sand would have filled in the indentation where I lay for months but it hasn't.  It's just a carved out hole that the ocean water keeps flowing into and out of.  I'm afraid to touch it lest it fall apart.  But the curves look hard and solid like rough cement.  I must have laid there so long the sand solidified.

There are footprints all around the hole from the rest of my family standing beside me.  They have hardened too.  It all sort of forms a negative statue.  I never saw them beside me all those months.  I don't know who was holding them up while I was consumed with self pity and grief because it wasn't me, I am ashamed to say.  I know they were hurting as much as I was but I couldn't help myself much less them. But I know they hung around me because there are thousands of foot prints everywhere.  Some may be from friends, I just can't tell. I'm sure there must be.

I have worn a path along the beach but I've never seen the footprints until now.  How could I not have noticed?

In my walks from time to time I've seen other people laying on the beach like I was.  I didn't stop or I couldn't stop to help them because it hurt me to look at them.  I could feel their sorrow down in my bones so sharply that I started walking faster.  That's not being a caring person.  It's called self preservation I guess.  But it doesn't feel nice.  My only consolation is that they don't know I was there.

I walked in several directions towards the tree line but always came back because I felt like I was leaving something behind.  I've know others have made it to the tree line and beyond because I don't see them anymore.  I don't hear them anymore either.  I see others standing at the tree line waiting for something, a push, a pull, from someone, something.  As much as I want to get to the forest, I can't.

Maybe one day I will.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Odd questions #1

Why do all the TV shows that I watch have to make the last 3 minutes be a "funny poignant personal" involving almost the entire cast?  I don't like reality shows but this can be annoying.

Why do the innocents always become the victims? 


Pictures from my heart

Finally, finally, finally... I actually put glue to paper and created something.  Or rather something in the making, yet to be determined.  I bought some books and found one with DIY instructions.  But, I'm the one who has to physically do the steps.  Here's how it went:

Friday night I sat in my chair, watching a little TV, perusing all the books that I got in the mail this week.  I dreamed, wrote down the things I needed to buy to start creating, and picked up around the house a little.  After telling myself - I WILL DO SOMETHING TOMORROW, I went to bed.

Saturday morning I did chores until noon.  Then hopped in the car with my list and went off to Hobby Lobby.  Found a few things for exercise #1.  Went grocery shopping next and then home.  By this time it was 4pm.  I took everything down stairs and started looking through all my stuff I had boxed away.  I remembered things I can't find and found things I can't remember.  I have to say I have a lot of "stuff" down there.  Some of it kinda cool, some of it junk.  But this first exercise has proven to me that even junk can light a creative spark. I found the card. I then went back up and started cooking dinner, put it in the oven to cook, and went back downstairs to confront myself.  I've realized that if I don't actually DO something with all this stuff not only have a wasted my money and my time but I'll be a fraud to myself.  And one of life's lessons is to be true to yourself.

So, I started.  After the first step was finished I did not feel the energy flowing.  I felt like a loser who thinks they can do something when they really can't.  But, I did also realize that I have to get a little further to see any results.  I guess no one judges their own creations as someone else would.  "It doesn't matter what other people think as long as you like what you are doing."  I have to keep reminding myself of that.

The book also says to start an art journal. So, I am.  I've started two pages.  It says to work on more than one thing at a time or have multiple works at different stages of one theme.  I'm trying to do these lessons or exercises as if someone was expecting them or grading me on them.  Maybe Mary will.

Sunday morning I slept in till 9am.  Talked to Julie, did some more chores, and was waiting till noon so we could go pick up my other two rings.  Then Carol called to say she and Donnie were dropping by. We took of for the jewelry store and Joann's to buy some more stuff for my art.  I still hadn't done anything yet today.  Carol left and Julie went to work and I went downstairs.    Danny came down to see what I was doing.  He liked it.  That should have made me feel better  but my insecurities (yes, I have many) still hung out there like dirty socks.  He said exactly what I would say to someone else, "It doesn't matter what others think".  I looked at my art (now I can call it my art) and finally liked it.  It's not finished but it's cool.

But I can see I need to keep focused on completing the exercises or else I'll quit.  I'm working on a wine bottle too!

Sunday, May 15, 2011


OK. So I've had a day to think about the card.  I did not burst into tears when I heard her voice.   She said "ooooooo.  Can you hear me?  Happy Birthday!"  Kind of drawn out.  I can see her saying it with that grin on her face.  

The last thing Mary said to me was "love you bye" on Sunday night when she got into Danny's truck to go home.  I waved bye to her as Taco was jumping in her lap while Danny was backing out of the driveway.  I never called her cell phone to hear her voice.  We turned off the answering machine at her house the first time we went there.  I never called it either.  It hurt too much to even think about hearing her voice again.  Then this happened.

I didn't cry, really.  Just sat there and hugged the card.  But, when I showed the card to Danny and Kerry and Julie (all separately), I did squeeze some tears out.  I tried to hold them back but couldn't.  I opened the card a few more times.  She sounds so happy and unaware.

Danny smiled and played it twice.  Kerry stuck his lip out in a pout.  Julie hid her eyes while I left the room.  The card is on my dresser.  Before going to bed Kerry played the card two more times.

I don't need to play it, I can hear it in my head as a perpetual loop recording.  I wish it wasn't a recording.  I hope the battery never runs down.

Saturday, May 14, 2011


I heard Mary's voice today.  I REALLY heard it - on a birthday card that records your voice.  I found it downstairs as I was going through all my art stuff.  A box was sitting near my stuff and I opened the card to see who it was from and WHAM!  I just sat there.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

3rd mother's day

I don't know if I wrote anything on the past 2 mom's days.  I don't reread my journal.  Can't.  This year is calmer.  Still feels empty at times.  I remember a mom's day sitting on the floor on Danny's side opening little packages with the three of them watching me.  Nothing big, lotion, candy, something else, cards, just little stuff wrapped in newspaper or cloth.  It might have been the last one with Mary, I can only remember being there.  

I've kept as many of my birthday cards, anniversary cards, and mother's day cards as I can.  They don't all have dates on them so I can only look at the hand writing to judge the year. I want to be cremated with all of them. They are part of the chronicles of my life.

Julie won a contest and got me a ring that has her birthstone in it.  Then Kerry got me two more for Mary and Danny.

I wanna believe
that I will see you some day
walking in a field
or playing in the hay.

I wanna believe
you've got a smile on your face
where ever you are
holdin' my heart in place

And I wanna hear you callin' my name again
while we're runnin' up the mountain side

But I know I'm just pretending
hoping my life will start mending
all my love to you I'm sending

I wanna believe......
I wanna believe......

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Another heart reclaimed...

One of our heart buddies got his heart last night. And someone out there lost a family member. Now I'm sure the family is glad to be able to help another person in their quest for staying alive but I bet you a dollar to a donut they would rather have their loved one back. And that would leave the heart buddy out in left field.  I'm conflicted. I cannot in all good conscience be happy for one person and sad for another.  Even in my situation. 

I'm also tired of listening to everyone singing praises to god for transplants.  Where was god when the donor needed him?  Does god only help the ones in need letting everyone else fend for themselves?  And where is he when those in need don't get help?  It all just makes so much more sense that he leaves us to live our lives as best we can.  Maybe he's around after we die.  I mean, he did create the universe.  Yes, I do believe that, even the big bang had to start with something, someone doing the banging.  

Seems like everyone in the transplant buddy group sings these praises.  I'm not sure I can keep listening.  I don't want to be rude.  They have as much right to praise as I have to not praise.  There just aren't very many non-praising people in the group.  Or else they keep really quiet.  No, I'm not going to tell anyone to stop.  That WOULD be rude.  A lot of them know my feelings and seem to accept it without trying to convince me otherwise.  I just don't want to hear it.

Oh, what I would give for Danny to need something other than a heart.  A living donor could donate just about anything else.  We would do it in a second.  Unfortunately, even if I died he would not get my heart because I'm too small.  So, I'm out of luck on that account.

Oh well, life's too short to whine about what you don't like.  Fix it if you can otherwise keep on truckin' down the road.