How is a full time working mother of three teenagers, two dogs and a husband, find time in a single day to do everything? I know that I am not the only person to survive in this type of lifestyle, but this is my paper, not theirs. It seems that I was in the same routine day in and day out. And it gets to a point of just doing things you have to do, sometimes without thinking of doing it. At times, I have to sit back and just think of the things I do that take up my morning, day and night. Everyday events that create my life.
It all starts at 4:30a.m. every morning, Monday through Friday that is. My husband and I take turns getting up first and showering, letting the other person sleep for a few more minutes. The morning news gets turned on and refreshes us on the happenings of the day before, but most impotantly what the weather will be like that day. Then it's downstairs to turn on the coffee maker and let the girls out in the backyard for their morning break. Toys, ruffled blankets, kibble on the floor, damn that Bailey dog. She's worse that picking up after the kids. Kids, oh yeah, their shoes are scattered amongst the kitchen door, having to kick them out of the way to open it. As well, as picking up their dirty socks! KIDS! While the coffee cooks, another load of laundry gets thrown in the wash. The girls are back in bringing in paw marks and dirt. The broom is out again. Good girls, treats and medicine (with peanut butter of course). Grabbing the lunch bag, the coffee cups and backpacks, we are out the door at 6:20a.m.
Driving the hour and fifteen minute drive to work gives us time to discuss our schedules for the day. This has to work out in order for us to have lunch together. Then it's what's going on at school with the kids, teacher meetings, softball and baseball games, who needs a ride here and there and what time do we need to leave work. This all needs to be clear before the day starts or else, forget it, it's forgotten. Pulling up the driveway at work, I have my whole day planned out, so I think. Patient medications, insurance coverage, audits, inspections, meetings with Providers and Social Workers, phone calls, phone calls and more phone calls! I'm tired of just thinking of it and I haven't even punched in yet! The phone calls starts and it isn't even 8:00a.m yet. I swear they watch us walking to the office. Unit Nurses always have an emergency. It doesn't matter what it is. Hell they call Pharmacy to help them fix their fax machines! So, the day starts off wonderfully! Then it all becomes a blur, just focusing on 4:30p.m to roll around.
Yay! The end of the day has come. The ride home contains the event sof our day. This is a great way to seperate yourself from work to homelife. Depending if there are any errands to do after work, it's home at about 6:00p.m. Then it's right to cooking supper, trying to get it on the table before 7:00p.m. In between, there are more clothes to wash and fold, the floors need vacuuming. I try to watch the evening news on my passing by the livingroom, but I just catch up in the morning. Supper done, kids are fed and happy, but where's the dessert? Homemade brownies will have to wait for the weekend, so it's Duncan Haines tonight. Dishes are soaking while the brownie mix is being made. Throw them into the oven and it's back to the sink. Dishes done and so is the dessert. So much for the cleaned dishes! What do I do? It's Idol night! Dishes will wait for morning.
It's 8:00p.m., family time on Wednesday. I guess I am lucky that the kids still want to have family time.
Some days are better than others. And some days offer more time than others. But I do not realize where I am in the time of the day, until I can sit down and enjoy a glass of wine. Whether it is at 7:00p.m. or a quick sip before 9:00p.m. Though, I also have a wonderful husband that helps me with the every day duties in our household. He is my sole support in my life. The days that he sees that I am having a tough time, he kicks in. Sometimes, we find ourselves fighting over who is going to do dishes. "I want to do them!" "No, it's my turn!" He understands when I need an extra minute to breathe or just to relax and sit down. "Will you just relax! Go in the other room and watch some t.v. and put your feet up." Or my favorite, "I'll do the chores tonight, so you can do your homework." Sometimes on the weekends I also get to sleep in. I am sure that everyone has busy days throughout their life, but I can truly say that it is all worth it at the end of every day.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Example Essay Intro Graf
How does a full time working mother of three teeneagers, two dogs and a husband, find time in a single day to do everything? I know that I am not the only person to survive in this type of lifestyle, but this is my paper, not theirs. It seems that I am in the same routine day in and day out. And then get to a point of just doing things you have to do, without even thinking of doing it. So, closing my eyes, I sit back and think of my day. Sometimes, we have to sit back and just think of the things we do that take up our day morning day, and night. These are the every day events that happens in my life.
Reaction to Example Essay Graf#19
Reading through the several different essays on Example essays, my brain can't help, but to think it seems sort of like a cause essay. Even though we are to place the example essay into what it seems like steps to me, isn't it somilar to explaining the cause essay? We pick a topic and begin by explaining how the topic relates to us in some sort of feelings, memories, importance, etc. The we take the three different ways of explaining the topic, with the ending as how or why the topic was most memorable to us. Am I wrong to think this way or is it a similar type of approach for all essays? Of course I say this, but I have to rewrite my cause essay, because I thought too much into the subject and format. So, maybe I shouldn't think of comparing essays, so I don't confuse my self any more. I have also realized that it does not take a huge paragraph to explain what it is you are trying to say.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Complete Contrast Essay
There has only been two places in my life that I have considered home. Even though they are on the opposite sides of the world. They have both held a special place in my heart. My grandfather was a retired Navy Chief and wanted to settle back to his native hometown in Maine. So, my Grandmother, I and the rest of our family left the comfort of our home in the Philippines for a new life. I was only five when we left, but I have held onto many memories. And I have also had many other fond memories growing up in our new life. Now thirtyfive years later, I have learned to appreciate these memories. Though, I can still remember the culture shock as a child. The enviornment, society and the new school system.
As a adult, I can still remember the smell of the salted sea air and the feel of the warm tropical breeze. My Great Aunt lived right by the beach front, so I remember running around the beach when I would visit her. The fine sand would just seem to melt through your toes, as the feeling of warmth surrounded your feet. I can remember the palm trees swaying in the breeze and the ocean waves reaching out to grab my feet. And when the tides would go low, you could see the jellyfish stuck to the cliffs.
I also felt a sense of excitement when I saw my first snowfall. Wow, it was amazing and so pretty to watch flow from the sky. Yet, there was no going out barefoot. Infact, it would be layered socks and insulated boots. Almost to a point that I couldn't feel my feet anymore. But I would learn that later after being outside too long. No running freely, but trudging in the depths of snow. My hands would turn numb, even with mittens over gloves. The breeze was cold and my cheeks would start to feel stiff and burn from the cold. Though, my first snowman was my first masterpiece.
When I was very little, my grandmother's neighbors would ask to come over to see the little white baby. White baby I asked? Apparently, I inherited the American blood of my grandfather. Everyone else around me was tanned skinned, dark haired and dark eyed. Not me. Light brown hair, blue eyes and the fairest of skin, like a very pale olive. Unknown women would just run over to smile and talk to me. My grandmother would say that I was some sort of attraction. When I came to Maine at five years of age, I didn't know what to expect. My grandfather bought a house in Derby Maine, that's right beside Milo. I soon realized that people were not quite sure about the new Asian family in the neighborhood. People were quite around us and we just mingled amongst each other, as well. When we would go shopping, I stayed very close to my mother, as other women would just stare down at me. I didn't feel very much like an attraction anymore. Until the fall came.
We moved to Maine in the summer of 1976 and actually I didn't turn five until that fall. Also that fall, school started. Talk about feeling different. Back in the Philippines, my greandmother wanted to make sure that I was going to be a well rounded person. She had enlisted me in two different schools at threee and a half years old until I had left the country. I went to a "public school", where we were taught to speak both Tagalog and English. But my grandmother had also decided to enroll me in Chinese school. So, three languages spoken before I was even four years of age! So, when I started kindergarten, the teachers were very suprised. But even though, I was not allowed to speak anything else, but English. They didn't want the other children to look at me as different. I think it was too late for that. Then throughout the years, English would become my only language, that is until I took French class in High School.
Even though there were huge differences in the two places that I had lived in, they both played a big part of my life. I had the priveledge of knowing a wonderful island and all the memories that I still hold from there. But yet I have had many lifelong memories growing up and living in Maine most of my life. The Philippines as a child was a much different life all together. But growing up in Maine has also been an adventure and for the most part, I would not change anything. Times have also changed. People, I believe, are more accepting of others these days and the school system are far more interested in foreign students now than ever. But honestly, I could still trade in the Maine winters for a walk on the beach and the warm ocean breeze of the Philippines.
As a adult, I can still remember the smell of the salted sea air and the feel of the warm tropical breeze. My Great Aunt lived right by the beach front, so I remember running around the beach when I would visit her. The fine sand would just seem to melt through your toes, as the feeling of warmth surrounded your feet. I can remember the palm trees swaying in the breeze and the ocean waves reaching out to grab my feet. And when the tides would go low, you could see the jellyfish stuck to the cliffs.
I also felt a sense of excitement when I saw my first snowfall. Wow, it was amazing and so pretty to watch flow from the sky. Yet, there was no going out barefoot. Infact, it would be layered socks and insulated boots. Almost to a point that I couldn't feel my feet anymore. But I would learn that later after being outside too long. No running freely, but trudging in the depths of snow. My hands would turn numb, even with mittens over gloves. The breeze was cold and my cheeks would start to feel stiff and burn from the cold. Though, my first snowman was my first masterpiece.
When I was very little, my grandmother's neighbors would ask to come over to see the little white baby. White baby I asked? Apparently, I inherited the American blood of my grandfather. Everyone else around me was tanned skinned, dark haired and dark eyed. Not me. Light brown hair, blue eyes and the fairest of skin, like a very pale olive. Unknown women would just run over to smile and talk to me. My grandmother would say that I was some sort of attraction. When I came to Maine at five years of age, I didn't know what to expect. My grandfather bought a house in Derby Maine, that's right beside Milo. I soon realized that people were not quite sure about the new Asian family in the neighborhood. People were quite around us and we just mingled amongst each other, as well. When we would go shopping, I stayed very close to my mother, as other women would just stare down at me. I didn't feel very much like an attraction anymore. Until the fall came.
We moved to Maine in the summer of 1976 and actually I didn't turn five until that fall. Also that fall, school started. Talk about feeling different. Back in the Philippines, my greandmother wanted to make sure that I was going to be a well rounded person. She had enlisted me in two different schools at threee and a half years old until I had left the country. I went to a "public school", where we were taught to speak both Tagalog and English. But my grandmother had also decided to enroll me in Chinese school. So, three languages spoken before I was even four years of age! So, when I started kindergarten, the teachers were very suprised. But even though, I was not allowed to speak anything else, but English. They didn't want the other children to look at me as different. I think it was too late for that. Then throughout the years, English would become my only language, that is until I took French class in High School.
Even though there were huge differences in the two places that I had lived in, they both played a big part of my life. I had the priveledge of knowing a wonderful island and all the memories that I still hold from there. But yet I have had many lifelong memories growing up and living in Maine most of my life. The Philippines as a child was a much different life all together. But growing up in Maine has also been an adventure and for the most part, I would not change anything. Times have also changed. People, I believe, are more accepting of others these days and the school system are far more interested in foreign students now than ever. But honestly, I could still trade in the Maine winters for a walk on the beach and the warm ocean breeze of the Philippines.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Contrast Essay Part #2
Maine winters have it's ups and it's downs. I guess it depends if you are a "snow lover' or not. I am not. Then again, the hot climate of the Philippines does not always work for some people's interest. But that, I can live with. Some people are truly happy when it snows, especially the school kids. While my thoughts go to "How much snow do I have to shovel in the morning?". However, the sands of the beaches seem to find whatever crevace of your body to stick to, as well. Frozen fingers and toes, who would enjoy that? But instead covering your toes with the warm sand. I don't understand how difficult this is to choose. I was made to live in the hot tropics, but I have been in Maine most of my life, 36 out of the 40 years. Shouldn't I be used to the Maine winters by now? Some winters are better than others, as also the monsoon season that hits the Philippines.Not sure what would be better, snow or water? And isn't it the same? I would have had to endure the flooded schools, as we still sit on our desks for classes. Maine winters, you often get breaks on "snow days". In fact they are calculated in the school calendar! But however the seasons go, there were always other issues that I had to overcome being placed in the opposite place of where I was born.
Monday, March 19, 2012
isearch Progress Report-Graf#18
My isearch had not started out the way that I had planned. So, I changed my topic after submitting my previous three sections. Needless to say, I had alot of soulsearching and found something that was more important to me, so I turned back and rewrote all three sections to reflect on my new topic. I wanted to know and learn more about my stepson ?????. I became part of his life as he was turning into a young adult and I was not there through his childhood dealing with Aspergers. So, I wanted to make my report, not just a learning process for me to understand about his diagnosis, but I also wanted it to become a 'getting to know one another' type situation, as I have asked for his collaboration with my isearch. From picking his alias name to answering my list of personal questions. I can find all sorts of information on-line. Google has plenty of research information. And I have read several articles of how Aspergers was looked at in the past and the possible outcome in the future. But I wanted to make my isearch more on the personal side. I have the most respect for ???? for being brave and honest with me. And most of all not feeling as a target, but just knowing that his step-mom was wanting to understand him better. So, I think that I am going to place a possible contrast of how ???? sees and handles his diagnosis, compared to how the researchers/ the public describes how it should be handled and their outlook.
** ???? is because he has not chosen his name yet. When he does, I will edit and add it in.
** ???? is because he has not chosen his name yet. When he does, I will edit and add it in.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Classification Essay
It's funny how people look at different breeds of dogs and immediately see the sterotypical view of the animal. Apparently, this is how most people choose their pets. But I have had three types of dogs throughout my life that had been technically looked at as being so different and catagorized. I had a poodle, a rich person's dog? Not in my case. I also had a golden retriever, the loving family dog and an American Staffordshire Terrier, one of the most feared dogs. Yet some people do not see that these three different dogs all share common traits. If they would look past the obvious, they would see that they are all used for hunting, protection and as a valued family member.
My little black poodle Onyx was the cutest little dog. But he was a great sniffer dog, too. I couldn't hide anywhere that he couldn't find me. Some poodles would be trained to find valuable truffles. Now that's a nose worth money! I should have thought of that! I guess the name retriever speaks for itself. Bruiser, my golden retriever loved to chase after birds. It didn't matter what type. He just loved to watch them fly and when they landed off he went! Of course, it was very much in his blood. And then, there would be my American Staffordshire Terrier, Piper. Also known as a pittbull. She is always very alert and likes to track down "her prey", as we like to call it. Her breed were also called 'catch dogs'. They would track down and corner their prey, then they would alert their owners. Imagine having to corner a wild boar. No wonder they are so tough!
Onyx was a smaller dog, and he had what they call "little man syndrome". He didn't care how big or mean anything else was, he was in front of it. He wasn't big enough to look out the window either, but he would always tell us when there was something or someone outside. Active and alert, yes he was! Now, with Bruiser, he was not an ordinary retriever. Retrievers are more laid back and they usually shy away from strangers. However, Bruiser, hence the name, was an bigger than normal retriever, with a deep low bark. So, even with his warm fuzzy appearance, people would stop in their tracks. Now Piper's appearance just says 'you're not getting in the house'. And that is actually the truth. She is always aware of her surroundings and if they got too close for her comfort, there would be a face plastered at the window that says, "Stay away!" Apparently, she would always get her point across.
For the most part, people generally just want a loving dog, regardless of the breed. Onyx was very active and playful, great for kids to run around the backyard with. He was also smart as a whip, as poodles are and we'd get him to do some funny little tricks. But I loved how he would keep my feet warm. Bruiser was just so warm and fuzzy and oh so friendly. He could brighten your day with a snuggle or a big sloppy kiss. Retrievers are truly a loving dog, always trying to make you happy. Though he would take up most of the bed! Piper has been through alot with me. The ups and downs and she would always stay at my side, a true best friend . She is more human to me than most people are, but that is because she knows me. She is just like one of my children.
So, there you have it. I have had the priveledge to own three differnt types of dogs. Even though physically and stereotypically different, they were all very similar. Each of them shared the same traits and qualites, regardless of the breed, but just showed it in different ways. People need to know that poodles were not to be considered a type of accessory, retrievers are not just a Christmas card portrait and pittbulls are not all vicious attackers. They need to stop looking at these dogs this way. They were all smart, loving dogs and played a huge part of the family. They did not just serve a purpose as a pet, but they also served a purpose to their breed.
My little black poodle Onyx was the cutest little dog. But he was a great sniffer dog, too. I couldn't hide anywhere that he couldn't find me. Some poodles would be trained to find valuable truffles. Now that's a nose worth money! I should have thought of that! I guess the name retriever speaks for itself. Bruiser, my golden retriever loved to chase after birds. It didn't matter what type. He just loved to watch them fly and when they landed off he went! Of course, it was very much in his blood. And then, there would be my American Staffordshire Terrier, Piper. Also known as a pittbull. She is always very alert and likes to track down "her prey", as we like to call it. Her breed were also called 'catch dogs'. They would track down and corner their prey, then they would alert their owners. Imagine having to corner a wild boar. No wonder they are so tough!
Onyx was a smaller dog, and he had what they call "little man syndrome". He didn't care how big or mean anything else was, he was in front of it. He wasn't big enough to look out the window either, but he would always tell us when there was something or someone outside. Active and alert, yes he was! Now, with Bruiser, he was not an ordinary retriever. Retrievers are more laid back and they usually shy away from strangers. However, Bruiser, hence the name, was an bigger than normal retriever, with a deep low bark. So, even with his warm fuzzy appearance, people would stop in their tracks. Now Piper's appearance just says 'you're not getting in the house'. And that is actually the truth. She is always aware of her surroundings and if they got too close for her comfort, there would be a face plastered at the window that says, "Stay away!" Apparently, she would always get her point across.
For the most part, people generally just want a loving dog, regardless of the breed. Onyx was very active and playful, great for kids to run around the backyard with. He was also smart as a whip, as poodles are and we'd get him to do some funny little tricks. But I loved how he would keep my feet warm. Bruiser was just so warm and fuzzy and oh so friendly. He could brighten your day with a snuggle or a big sloppy kiss. Retrievers are truly a loving dog, always trying to make you happy. Though he would take up most of the bed! Piper has been through alot with me. The ups and downs and she would always stay at my side, a true best friend . She is more human to me than most people are, but that is because she knows me. She is just like one of my children.
So, there you have it. I have had the priveledge to own three differnt types of dogs. Even though physically and stereotypically different, they were all very similar. Each of them shared the same traits and qualites, regardless of the breed, but just showed it in different ways. People need to know that poodles were not to be considered a type of accessory, retrievers are not just a Christmas card portrait and pittbulls are not all vicious attackers. They need to stop looking at these dogs this way. They were all smart, loving dogs and played a huge part of the family. They did not just serve a purpose as a pet, but they also served a purpose to their breed.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Contrast Essay Intro#2
Sitting here typing, I am looking out my diningroom window staring at the snow. Snow, as beautiful as it can make the brown grass look, I dred seeing it every single year. Spring and summer do not last long enough, yet the winters seem to stay around to what feels like forever. Boots and jackets to prep for shoveling and don't forget the gloves! For God's sake, your fingers depend on them for warm circulation. Argghhh, who wants to endure winter in Maine! So, I close my eyes and remember the days of the tropics. Yes, I may have been young back then, but I still remember the feel of the warm ocean breeze of the Philippine islands. Shorts and teeshirts on any given day and you can always feel the warmth of the sand between your toes. Where was I truely meant to be?
Contrast Essay Intro#1
People often ask me, "You're not from around here, are you?" And I find my self thinking, 'Gee, wonder why they ask!' Apparently living in Maine and being oriental just does not make semse to some people. I often wonder that myself. Why the hell am I here? How did I go from the beautiful, warm tropics of the Philippines to the minus thirty below zero, snow covered roads of Maine? Teeshirt and shorts 24/7 to snowgear and shovles, which seem like forever! Don't get me wrong, each place has it's peaks, but which place feels best for me.
Outro to Classification Essay
I can honestly say that no one should go through life and not experience the love and respect of man's best friend. It is amazing how a furry four legged creature, that talks to you in their own tongue, can make you feel loved and secured on your bad days. Or how their makeshift smile, as their tongues hang and drool, can just make you smile back. And let's not forget they are the best listener of your worries and problems. Of course there are the daily feedings, occasional treats and playdates at the park. But really no different than having children. Of course, to most, their "man's best friend" are their children. Though there are all different, just like people.
Classification Essay Intro#2
They say that a dog is man's best friend. They never judge you for who you are or what you have done. I also feel the same way about them. Every dog that I had impacted my life. I had adopted a siberian husky from the local Veterinarian's office. He was surrendered by his previous owners due to the bad habits of chasing deer. He was so sweet and loving and had a great sense of humor. I couldn't say no to his beautiful blue eyes. I also had adopted a very young puppy from a county pound. Looked to be a little black lab. I felt so sorry for him to be caged up, so he came home with me. The next day I found out that he was infected with parvo. We had quite the ordeal with this dog. It's funny when people say that a dog takes after their owner. My red brindle pittbull was just a little pup when I realized that her personality was just like mine. It wasn't the because we shared the same "bad rep", but I felt like we understood each other from the beginning. So far in my life, I have been lucky to have had my "man's best friend" by my side. I wouldn't know what it would have been like without them, nor would I want to. As they have each taught me a different outlook of life.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Intro-Classification Essay#1
How does a person choose what type of dog they would pick for a pet. They say that the type of dog reflects on the type of person it belongs to. Or is it, the dog starts looking like the owner? You have the small petite poodles. The ones you see all the rich folk carrying around like they were a purse. Pet or accesory, I often wonder. The ever so popular labrador retriever. Every family with children should have one. Nothing say a Christmas card, then having the family picture by the fireplace with good ole Rex by their feet. And who can forget the famous 'rip your face off if you even look at me' pitt-bull. Not everyone's favorite choice, by all means. But can hold some piece of mind for protection. Maybe it all depends on a person's stage in life, alone, with children and then finding something that will take place after the children leave home.
Graf#16
Looking at the samples for the classification essays, they look to be very fun and interesting to do. They capture different views and stories. It looks to be particular steps of a story, almost like the pourage situation in Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Each section has it's own story and life's learned experiences. The 'types' of the guys that the poor girl dated was so facinating, yet very amusing. I believe that there are many girls that have gone through the same trials and disappointments as she did, but she wrote it with a very different outlook of her situation. Instead of just calling them what they really were in a more unpleasant discription, she played with the idea of them being in a Mother Goose's rhyme. It was a nice twist of explaining how the guys she dated really were. I especially enjoyed how she incorporated the 'sugar and spice' bit to her story. Even with the other essays, they were very good in explaining their thoughts in the different types of 'whatever' subject they wanted to write about. I look forward to working on this essay, as I feel it has much room for creativity.
Graf #15-Meta Graf
What to write about...hmmmmm. Sometimes, I think to much into a subject and then my brain goes blank. How hard is it to pick a subject anyways. Well, I can tell you that I have a paper and pen on my bedstand in case of those late night thoughts. It may sound corny, but it does help. Sometimes, after I have written my grafs, I still have "after thoughts". But when I go in to revise it, Damn! Jon has already been in there. I have to say that I work with alot of my memories and feelings, trying to distinguish the reasons of why or how I feel about something. It brings out alot of emotions in me and it helps bring out some of the words and discriptions. Maybe it's the "older, sappier" me. The most recent activities in my life had made it easier to write about, too. That's why I decided to write about something that I had been having issues with. Not that I look out to make people think that I am depressed, but I thought that if I wrote them down I could realize something that I already knew. You know when you think quietly to yourself about something, it seems or sounds different then when you read it or write it down. Like a movie verses a book. In a sense, it was answering my own question or at least clarifying them.
Complete Cause Essay #1
Some days are better than others and some days really just suck! I often wonder if it's that old saying "Carma is a bitch", but come on, i've been good for a long time now. It's almost an instant reaction when waking up every morning, "Wonder what the hell can happen today?" Not that I haven't tried to be optimistic about having a good day, but sometimes I wonder if I think of it too much, then that's when shit hits the fan. I haven't always been this way. In fact, not too long ago, it seemed that nothing could bring my day down. I was almost sickeningly delighted every day. So, why did I change my outlook of how my day could be? Sometimes I wonder if it seems like having so many disasterous days happen one after another, it became somewhat of a habit. Maybe it's the ill feeling I have daily about possibly putting my dog to sleep or the shock of having to take my husband to the emergency room with chest pains. Though I feel that my thoughts have changed drastically after we nearly died in that unforgettable accident. Not all of these things would happen every day, but they are the ones that have surely kept me on my toes.
Piper is my beautiful red nosed pitt-bull. She may look mean and tough, which she can be, but she has been my best friend for ten years now. No matter what, I could trust that she would be waiting at the door for me to get home and she would snuggle with me at my worse days. She would look at me with those amber colored eyes and I knew that she was saying, "It will be okay." So, when the thought of having to put her down came to mind, all I could think about was all the times she had comforted me, why would this be my solution for her? She had been tested for several things and all the vet could say is that he thought it must be a gall bladder issue. Maybe to some it doesn't seem like a huge issue, but how about having to clean dog puke up every day and then trying to find the best way for her to take their meds, just so she can throw it up again. Strict diet and no fatty foods. Again some days are better than others with her, but I often wonder how she feels and if this will get better for her. And to what extreme could I afford to keep her as healthy as possible. But for now every day when I come home, it's a guessing game as to if there is a pile to pick up and where did she put it this time?
As I sat at my workdesk, doing my everyday paperwork, I get a phonecall from my husband and in a soft, quiet voice I hear him say, "I think I need to go to the e.r." That instant feeling of shock hit me. "What? What's wrong?" And as I am asking him, the whole cenario of the trip to the hospital was already in play, in my head. "I don't know, but my chest doesn't feel right and my pulse is low." Wait a second, his heart? This would be the worse feeling of panic that I had felt. "Okay, okay. I am on my way!" Thank God he only worked down the road from me! In the short distance to the hospital, it felt like the trip took longer. And how about the round about entrance to the emergency room at Eastern Maine?! Could they change the entrance area again? The wait in the emergency room was mind wrecking, didn't they hear him say that he was having chest pains? Finally, in the exam room and hooked to monitors, I sat and waited, as I watched the staff do labwork and assesments. When the doctor said the words, "We are admitting you", I knew that it was serious. Even though it took forever to get transferred in the cardiac, I never realized the time. When the time came and Nurse Wrachet kicked me out of the room, it was sweet dreams for me in the stiff chairs of the family room. Day two was full of tests, as well as testing patience. And at the end, the words that everyone just loves hearing, "We don't know what is wrong with you." What the hell does that mean? That means, 'you're on your own'! Follow ups with the PCP and the Cardiologist are ongoing events. Just to keep us wondering if this could happen again.
The day was overcast, but dry. Travel weather at it's best, no sun in your eyes and nothing to keep the wipers going. So, how could this day of travel be bad? It became the worse day of uncertainties, as we drove around the bend. We could see the flashing red lights of the well known yellow bus, so we had slowed down and stopped behind a small blue pick-up. Then surprisingly, my husband started to excel and go around the pick-up. "What the hell was wrong with him, can't he see the damn lights?!" I started to panic because of the bus, but the kids stayed in their driveway. Did they see what was going to happen? "Honey! What are you doing?" I turned to look at him and I saw him looking in the rearview mirror. "He's not going to stop!" As I started to say, "What do you mean?", I could see the huge metal grill of the truck and the stack of logs that weighed it down. This was it! We are dead! This was where the real panic kicked in. "Oh my God!" But I couldn't finish my words, as the jolt of the impact clamped my mouth shut. All I thought about was the pile of logs crushing us or the log truck driving over us. The impact broke the driver's seat, but my husband pulled himself up in time to turn the wheel. The telephone pole was going to be the next victim! They say that your life flashes before your eyes at times like these. All I was looking for were those damn logs! As we came to a slow stop, we were allowed to breath. Did we survive for a particular reason? Or was this just another sick way of ruining a good day?
It is always unfortunate to have a bad day because who plots out their day to have one? It was definately not something I wanted to do. I just didn't know how to stop thinking that something bad would always happen. It's almost like if I do plan ahead that something bad happens and it doesn't, it makes it a good day. Kind of backwards though, right? I have to start thinking that the day is going to start good. Everyone has had some traumatic event in their lives that totally change their outlook, but I guess it depends how they decide to handle it. Handling it is a must. So, even though my dog isn't at her peak anymore and I may have to clean her messes when I get home, I still have her to look at me and say the day will be okay. My husband, my other best friend, will always be on my mind for concerns. Isn't that how it's supposed to be anyways? Apparently, that is what happens when you love someone, you worry and care about them consistantly. You are there for them regardless. And even though I suffer from PTSD and can not stand the sight of red lights and school buses, I am very thankful every day that we survived that day. I have to believe that things happen for a reason, so why walk on eggshells trying to avoid it? Even though there were those bad days, it shouldn't mean that it is what life is all about. I have to think that bad days can come and go, but I will always be here to see another day.
Piper is my beautiful red nosed pitt-bull. She may look mean and tough, which she can be, but she has been my best friend for ten years now. No matter what, I could trust that she would be waiting at the door for me to get home and she would snuggle with me at my worse days. She would look at me with those amber colored eyes and I knew that she was saying, "It will be okay." So, when the thought of having to put her down came to mind, all I could think about was all the times she had comforted me, why would this be my solution for her? She had been tested for several things and all the vet could say is that he thought it must be a gall bladder issue. Maybe to some it doesn't seem like a huge issue, but how about having to clean dog puke up every day and then trying to find the best way for her to take their meds, just so she can throw it up again. Strict diet and no fatty foods. Again some days are better than others with her, but I often wonder how she feels and if this will get better for her. And to what extreme could I afford to keep her as healthy as possible. But for now every day when I come home, it's a guessing game as to if there is a pile to pick up and where did she put it this time?
As I sat at my workdesk, doing my everyday paperwork, I get a phonecall from my husband and in a soft, quiet voice I hear him say, "I think I need to go to the e.r." That instant feeling of shock hit me. "What? What's wrong?" And as I am asking him, the whole cenario of the trip to the hospital was already in play, in my head. "I don't know, but my chest doesn't feel right and my pulse is low." Wait a second, his heart? This would be the worse feeling of panic that I had felt. "Okay, okay. I am on my way!" Thank God he only worked down the road from me! In the short distance to the hospital, it felt like the trip took longer. And how about the round about entrance to the emergency room at Eastern Maine?! Could they change the entrance area again? The wait in the emergency room was mind wrecking, didn't they hear him say that he was having chest pains? Finally, in the exam room and hooked to monitors, I sat and waited, as I watched the staff do labwork and assesments. When the doctor said the words, "We are admitting you", I knew that it was serious. Even though it took forever to get transferred in the cardiac, I never realized the time. When the time came and Nurse Wrachet kicked me out of the room, it was sweet dreams for me in the stiff chairs of the family room. Day two was full of tests, as well as testing patience. And at the end, the words that everyone just loves hearing, "We don't know what is wrong with you." What the hell does that mean? That means, 'you're on your own'! Follow ups with the PCP and the Cardiologist are ongoing events. Just to keep us wondering if this could happen again.
The day was overcast, but dry. Travel weather at it's best, no sun in your eyes and nothing to keep the wipers going. So, how could this day of travel be bad? It became the worse day of uncertainties, as we drove around the bend. We could see the flashing red lights of the well known yellow bus, so we had slowed down and stopped behind a small blue pick-up. Then surprisingly, my husband started to excel and go around the pick-up. "What the hell was wrong with him, can't he see the damn lights?!" I started to panic because of the bus, but the kids stayed in their driveway. Did they see what was going to happen? "Honey! What are you doing?" I turned to look at him and I saw him looking in the rearview mirror. "He's not going to stop!" As I started to say, "What do you mean?", I could see the huge metal grill of the truck and the stack of logs that weighed it down. This was it! We are dead! This was where the real panic kicked in. "Oh my God!" But I couldn't finish my words, as the jolt of the impact clamped my mouth shut. All I thought about was the pile of logs crushing us or the log truck driving over us. The impact broke the driver's seat, but my husband pulled himself up in time to turn the wheel. The telephone pole was going to be the next victim! They say that your life flashes before your eyes at times like these. All I was looking for were those damn logs! As we came to a slow stop, we were allowed to breath. Did we survive for a particular reason? Or was this just another sick way of ruining a good day?
It is always unfortunate to have a bad day because who plots out their day to have one? It was definately not something I wanted to do. I just didn't know how to stop thinking that something bad would always happen. It's almost like if I do plan ahead that something bad happens and it doesn't, it makes it a good day. Kind of backwards though, right? I have to start thinking that the day is going to start good. Everyone has had some traumatic event in their lives that totally change their outlook, but I guess it depends how they decide to handle it. Handling it is a must. So, even though my dog isn't at her peak anymore and I may have to clean her messes when I get home, I still have her to look at me and say the day will be okay. My husband, my other best friend, will always be on my mind for concerns. Isn't that how it's supposed to be anyways? Apparently, that is what happens when you love someone, you worry and care about them consistantly. You are there for them regardless. And even though I suffer from PTSD and can not stand the sight of red lights and school buses, I am very thankful every day that we survived that day. I have to believe that things happen for a reason, so why walk on eggshells trying to avoid it? Even though there were those bad days, it shouldn't mean that it is what life is all about. I have to think that bad days can come and go, but I will always be here to see another day.
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