Back from the Edge

Nation...there is nothing like a family visit to remind you not only how shallow the gene pool is, but also that little amoebas can surprise you with their unpredictable behavior.

By the time the husband and I arrived, I was feeling a lot better. That's always a surprise, because I never know how those feelings will ebb and flow like the tide. The visit with the family was fun; the Atlanta brother-in-law, his wife, and their 2 oldest children were a blast to talk with. Especially the kids; god I miss being young! The oldest is 27 (girl), and she is having a horrible time at work - her job in advertising is just sucking the life from her. She is physically ill with guilt and depression. My heart broke for her. We talked about yoga and some stress relief; she is developing horrible carpal tunnel from never leaving her desk and just the tension in her body. The middle is 25 (boy), and has worked as an investment broker as well as an actuary. I put him to work immediately checking the SIL's 401K (which she had wanted me to move some investments around for her, but I figured why not pick the youthful brain instead, and save my limited cells...) Currently, he is also working in advertising, but working as a sales forecaster for (small world) the rival company of the older sister's client!! He has put an offer in to buy a little Tudor down in Atlanta, while the sister is barely making ends meet. So there's lots of static there. I was seriously counting my blessings.

I finally got to see my middle niece's "new" baby - born last Nov 4th. I did see her at Thanksgiving, but that was 8 months ago! My god, they grow fast...like goslings! She is just the sweetest baby; I cried when I held her. Don't know where that emotional flood came from!

Now, the father in law...I did speak with him at length about the husband's eye. He was under the impression that the problem under consideration was the old trauma injury, but I explained to him that there is nothing they can do with that vision and that it was a very large, dual sided cataract that was causing the current condition. He cried; I cried. I explained the doctor out of network situation; he immediately offered $2,000 to cover the surgery (which I immediately and graciously accepted; although quite honestly that wasn't the reason for my telling him the story. He really surprised me.)

After our trip, I also attended (alone - the husband found someone to let him work for a few days) the fitness conference I've been discussing here. The first class was Friday in Older Adult Fitness. Very interesting and I think I passed the certification exam. The real purpose for my going, however, was the 2-days Yoga Phase I instructor class and certification. Well I woke up Saturday morning at around 4:30 and had an anxiety attack, similar to the one I described on this blog a couple of months ago: room spinning, hyperventilation, nausea. I almost did not attend the class. But off I went; wasn't quite the last to arrive but I was a literal train wreck for most of the morning. The 2 ladies next to me knew each other, and were kind enough to take me in as a third member, so I didn't feel completely left out. I don't know why, but it took a lot of pressure off and made the learning a lot easier. The critical point was having to instruct the entire group in a run through of Sun Salutations, which I did and forgot a section on the 2nd half of my session. Even though lots of us made mistakes, he said we all passed the practical, which was great - that's usually my weak point. I am confident about my performance on the written portion, just need to get my notification in the mail. We'll see how it goes. I'm thinking of maybe doing something on a short term basis, like those night time Adult classes as high schools - it usually lasts like once or twice weekly for 8 or 10 weeks.

I'm so anal, I brought all my own food so I wouldn't have to spend much additional money. The only food I puchased in 5 days was a $4 cup of chowder (like 4 ounces - cheap bastards) and 3 lobster rolls (it took me 3 days to eat the first one I bought - dinner Fri., lunch & dinner Sat., and lunch on Sun.) I took 1 whole one home to the husband and ate 1/3 of the last one for dinner Sun night and brought the rest home to eat there. This single-sandwich feast is mandatory eating up in Massachusetts. I found mine at The Raw Bar on Ocean Street in Hyannis. Order the "original'; it's enough to fully feed at least 2 hungry adults. I had yogurt, fruit and my salad with me, as well as dressing, iced teas, and cereal.

Good to be home; nice to be missed.

Thursday, July 16 - "I may be blind, but I can see you're fucked up..."

Nation...I think it's happening again. I am sick with fear and self-loathing. Everything seems to be just piling up on me, and I can't get out from under.

I had a crazy sugar fit last night after eating 1/3 of a take-out container of penne vodka w/shrimp. I think it may have been the white flour used for the penne. I hadn't even wanted to eat out; I had a beautiful baby greens salad at home with fruit and homemade cranberry-balsamic viniagrette. But the husband is "getting tired of that salad." The guy just consumes mass quantities of whatever is within reach: english muffins (can't even keep them in the house - they disappear) w/butter (breakfast), w/peanut butter & jelly (snack right after breakfast), no lunch, english muffin with cheese (snack right before I get home so he can tell me, "I'm starving, can we eat dinner early maybe?".

I swear it starts the moment I get in the door. I feel so bad for him in his current work situation (there is none), so he just sits on the couch all day and watches TV and eats english muffins, pretzels, chips, etc. He has no friends (only people he works with - when they work) and never talks to anyone all day; so he's full of conversation when I get home. All I want is quiet. The moment he opens his mouth to speak, I'm reaching for salty carbs.

Whatever he has to tell me always seems to do with something I have become responsible for: "did you mail the bills?", "did you call the doctor about the insurance benefits?", "did you fill out that form from the insurance company for the flood insurance?", "did you call the accountant and set up our appointment?", "did you call the doctor and change my appointment?" , "my credit card bill came today; why isn't the payment we made over the internet showing up?", "did you write the amounts you spent at the store in the checkbook? I know you forget all the time and I never know how much money is in there..." and on..and on...and on. I'm at the point where I sort of don't want to go in the house when I get home.

This is really a fucked up situation as well, because now - even though there is no work - if there was work, he wouldn't be able to get assigned. On May 11, all of a sudden a cataract has completely taken the vision in his "good" eye; he had a trauma to the "bad" eye about 20 years ago and hasn't really seen well from it since; nothing can be done. So he continued working with the cataract developing though the end of the last union assignment (Memorial Day). Since then he's been working at our home putting in new bluestone walk and stepping stones from the driveway. He compensates a lot for the loss of vision, but also just from experience does a lot of work by touch.

I haven't been completely neglegent; did get him seen by an opthalmologist, who found him to be borderline glaucoma, so put him on some drops and really got the pressure down. (This is about the time the cataract came on full throttle). She sent him for an MRI (w/regard to the 'pale'optic nerve in the bad trauma eye), which came back with no masses. This led to possibly being a candidate for cataract surgery and picking a surgeon. Coincidentally there is a surgeon in the opthalmologist's office. Great caring doctor, didn't look at us like we were idiots, explained cataracts in simply worded sentences (because we are idiots) discussed the procedure and the special lens she would place in the husband's cataract eye. Everything seemed too good to be true...

She's not in network. He turns to me in and says, "I thought you checked all this already." I was (and still am) devastated. Not so much as she's not in network, but because of his comment. What I heard was, "why did you have me waste my time waiting for and going to these appointments and all the time the doctor is not in network and you could have kept all this from happening if you had just made some phone calls or looked on the internet and gotten some real information..." etc.

I looked through the websites of so many doctors, checked names against my plan. I think I may have assumed the surgeon was in-network because the office she works at "IS" in network, as is the primary opthalmologist also in-network. But as it turns out, even if my benefits would pay for an out-of-network doctor, it would only be at a 50-70%, so we'd still have balance bill. The surgeon's office manager has agreed to charge us the same fee as they charge medicare ($1000) instead of her usual $2500. The special lens costs an additional $850, as it is made to correct astigmatism (so the husband's eyeglass prescription will change dramatically). The surgical center gets an additional $300 (just to have the lens available to you - bastards). This wouuld all be additional cash out even if the doctor was in network; insurance carrier only pays for the straight, plain, no-help-with-your-vision-problems lens.

...but I digress. I was talking about me and my utter black despair. So all I could think must of yesterday (and all of last night) was what a piece of shit I am. All I am is a liability to the family when we have no money to spare. On top of this, I have traded in my Yoga certification tickets from last years conference (that I missed due to a self-esteem crisis) to one happening July 23-26. So again, here I am with no confidence to go (keep thinking 'what the fuck am I thinking? I barely have a home practice') as well as no-money (no fucking bonus this year thanks to my boss and her issues with me that I can't prove innocence of).

I just feel so overwhelmed; we are going to the family compound tomorrow (the husbands brother and wife are coming from Atlanta; haven't seen them since 2004) and coming back Monday. I was really looking forward to going, but now just feel so worthless - I have nothing to offer anyone. Just useless, horribly obese, ugly skin hanging off me, I just want to vomit constantly. I definitely do not want to see anyone.

On July 14th, the husband has made it 19 years without picking up a drink. He has started going to meetings again (not often enough IMHO), but he's going. I was psyching myself up to go to the gym last night, just for 45 minutes, and ending up eating 1/2 package of LU Le Fondant wafers from France and 2 tiny-snack-size HaagenDaaz Coffee and almond bars. On top of the fucking white flour pasta, I felt like there were ants crawling under my skin. I started doing the dishes (because the cabinets were empty and sink was overflowing) to try and be positive, and everything that has been pushed down in my emotional steamer trunk just came out, like it was recovered from the remains of the Titanic. I literally could not stop crying.

So the husband comes home, just as I was finishing the dishes (and the crying). "Why are you crying? What's the matter?" I told him, "I don't know. Everything and nothing..." I forget what else we said next, but I brought up the fact that I have nothing to offer, and it's my fault about the choice of surgeon. "Because of me, we have to pay money we don't have.." He said, "Because of you, I'm getting treatment from the best doctor I could hope to find."

Today is also the pre-op physical for the husband; I'll be driving him.

I just wish the hurting would stop.

Monday, July 6, 2009 - Good Times, Bad Times: Strange Days Indeed

(This entry was started on June 30th)

Nation: so much has been happening lately - we are losing celebrities as though the Plague has made a return to modern earth: Ed McMahon (83), Farrah Fawcett (62 with legendary hair - even with cancer), MICHAEL JACKSON (50!!), and Billy Mays (50 "OxyClean" pitchman). All these people are too rich to die. What is happening here? 4 gone in less than 1 week! Over the weekend (July 4th), triple MVP Steve McNair, former QB of Houston Oilers/Tennessee Titans and then Baltimore Ravens was shot dead - he was 36 years old. Holy crap. Apparently a woman was found shot to death also at the same location.

I have a new iPhone. Just wanted something for easier texting, but through my company I got a phenomenal discount, so I couldn't pass it up. I even got my Tech Dept to circumvent administrative firewalls so I could upgrade to brand new software! (Gotta have a friend in IT.)

So here I am as old as the hills, blind as a bat but I've got cool technology in the palm of my hand.

On a much more somber note, July 1 was the 2 year anniversary of my brother's passing. On that morning while driving to work at 6:45am, I was coming up the hill on Route 17 into Saddle River. There about a quarter mile ahead was the FERGUSON

delivery truck. I cried of course. I could hear Christopher in my

head: "Don't forget about me." Like that could ever happen.

I've been missing Christopher more than usual this past 6 weeks, as my daughter graduated college and I think he would have liked to have been there. I know he would have RULED at her graduation party, which she arranged (we paid) in our backyard - tent, catering, and 3 bands. In between, Band 2 was actually a partially 'unplugged' session with members of #1 and #3 (along with other musically-inclined party guests) playing acoustic (one kid had a mandolin!). No family for us was there at all, which sucked, as they are all so far away and the in-laws (not Grampy) came down from the compound for the graduation ceremony, so they couldn't do both. Here's a pic of the boyfriend singing with Band #1 (that lonely folding chair held the lyrics which nervousness kept Keith from remembering); the acoustic session; and our headliner (which so rocked the neighborhood one of our neighbors from down on the river set up a chair on his deck to listen while his wife and daughter (who is autistic) just danced in their backyard):

I think it's been just about a year for the gray hair experiment. It's certainly a great shade of silver, but it won't grow fast enough. If it's not one thing it's another:

Lots of work stuff (and personal empowerment) going on as well, but that'll have to keep for another day.

Friday, May 15, 2009 - Pain of unknown origin

Nation...In my weakened state, I find it difficult to even think straight. Last weekend, I sort of determined that my always unpredictable blood letting (aka my period) was probably looming (the cravings always a good meter.) By Monday it still hadn't started, but I had tenderness in the left ovary. On Tuesday, the pain had spread literally across my pelvic area and the other ovary joined in the reindeer games. Wednesday the cramping was unrelenting, it had become difficult to stand from a seated position, and my hip joints (not the lower back) were aching. Last night (Thursday) I was getting my nails done at my friend's house - she has 2 huge Great Danes: Spartacus and Storm. These dogs were happily beating me with their tails, which are about 18" long and flexible. It was like getting hit with a black jack or police baton - plus it would wrap around the leg! I could not believe the aching all over my body yesterday; now in addition to the aforementioned lower body stuff, none of which has abated in the least, my upper body is aching. Add to this not sleeping through the night anymore due to 1. the husband choking to death from smoking trying to tell me he's allergic to cats; and 2. fucking menopause. I read somewhere that your sleep patterns can be bad.

Since the day I was born, I have slept like I'm dead; all it takes is 3 deep breaths and I'm out for 8-10 hours. Over the past year, this has been gradually changing. First I'd get up with night sweats, but was able to change pajamas and covers to return to sleep. Within the past 6 months, if I wake and do not get back to sleep in less than 15 minutes, I am up for the night and through the morning. This has happened at 2:30am, 4am, 3am, etc. (And then I start my regular day at 5:30 making lunches, driving [with suppressed reflexes] to work, etc.) It doesn't help that the husband won't shut up if he knows I'm awake. He has never been a good sleeper; he has sleep apnea and startles himself awake, and then asks me "what are you doing?" as though I was banging pot lids together.

The pain today is pretty bad, and I'm starting to get worried. If I warm my hands and lay them flat over both ovaries it really feels good, but the minute the downward pressure is removed, the pain returns.

One of the directors here was in Mexico about 2 weeks ago, and I heard him complaining yesterday about how he felt so crappy when he woke up the past 2 mornings, he was asking himself, "should I go in today?" BUT THEN HE COMES IN!! Who comes to work when they're sick, especially when you've just returned from a place where medical care is non-existent. I bet this guy has brought his swine flu in here.

Upcoming events (if I don't die of ovarian necrosis): the daughter graduates from college May 28th, which is another story as it involves less admission tickets than I have asked people to come and now I'm stuck; same weekend, the creator of Jamie Fraser - my only love - author of my beloved Outlander series will be appearing in NY at an industrial trade show. I've managed to get tickets to this event through my publishing connections here at work. I want to surprise the in-laws since they gave me my first copy of Outlander and started this madness, and it's their anniversary the same weekend. They're coming all the way from the family compound in New England (and they are the ones for whom I'm scouting tickets for the graduation! I am in a real pickle)

Gotta go, my neck is starting to hurt and I've got tons to do today.

Thursday, May 7, 2009 - Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining

Nation: the past few weeks have been tumultuous; work is going quite well, home life is returning to quasi-normal as the husband is finally working again. My daughter has applied to graduate school and there was an interview as part of the application process. She had been unable to reach the phd in charge of her program, as his voicemail was full, and he wasn't answering emails. When he finally called, on the Friday night before Easter, his cryptic telephone message indicated that she "should meet him in Parking Lot 3, behind the Charter School, on Mon., April 20, at 12 Noon". We all thought "how odd..." but maybe it's easier to meet her there, and then proceed inside for the interview. She and I both took the day off from work and, with the husband playing logistics commander at home by Weather Channel and voice-comm, we drove down to the school - in an absolute downpour - to wait, ever patiently, in parking lot #3. The PhD never showed up! Nor had anyone seen him when my daughter called the Psychology Dept of the grad school. She left 2 messages; we waited from 11:45AM-1:50PM and then drove over to the undergrad school in NYC and picked up the actual bachelor's degree: Forensic Psychology cum laude.

Almost a week went by before I found the name of an advisor at the grad school who could maybe help out. My daughter wrote to him; he responded same day by email and by phone. By the next day, she received an email from the original PhD, who was 'sorry for the miscommunication- as he thought he told her to meet him at the Charter School in some-such room number.' I saved the original telephone message in case crap ever came from it. So they re-scheduled an interview, Mon., April 27, at 6:45pm - in between classes. My daughter was like, "how much time can he be giving me? There's only like 15 minutes between classes at night down there." Well, she was right; she was in and out by 7:05pm. He basically reiterated what he had explained at the Open House '74 credits, rigorous program...' and said he was looking through her documents and GRE scores (my daughter said her heart dropped as her scores were nothing to brag about), but then added: "I don't think you'll have any problem getting into this program."

I think she was more shocked than anything; thrilled, yes - but how could this guy make such a determination when each of the ONLY 8-12 accepted students each semester would also have to pass a panel of the entire department of people. So this guy was basically putting words in the mouths of about 6 other PhDs! She was 'cautiously optimistic'...


Email arrived this morning at her undergrad school email account: "Congratulations on your acceptance..." I am so happy for her; my bowels have been in an uproar ever since she got the sentence out! I feel a bunch of different emotions: I am also a bit scared; not of any inability to complete the workload. As this comes closer to becoming a career reality, I am concerned about her exposure to children (teenagers, too) whose problems may place her in a vulnerable position.

How many therapists have been attacked by their patients? What about school shootings?
Gotta try and not think so much about that stuff. Just be happy for this moment in the sun!


The reason for this blog...the hair. I really love the color of the hair; so many women here at the job tell me that if their gray looked like mine they'd stop coloring. That's really nice. Guess it helps that my hair is thick as well. It just seems to be stuck not growing. I really want it to get long like that older model, Cindy Joseph. She started modeling at 48!! I've posted her pic below. When it gets just long enough for a pony tail, I might buy a long extension and do an "I Dream of Jeannie" ponytail with a braid wrap.


Me today

Monday, Apr. 13, 2009

Nation...On April 1st (quite appropos) I had the required opportunity to sit through a "tear down" session (aka the yearly review and appraisal) with my manager who, in an very unexpected show of god-knows-what, grabbed my hand during the review and told me how committed she is to my success here at the company. How do you respond to that? I would have more expected an MMA cage match in her office. Totally caught me off guard. So I put my other hand over hears and patted it. Long story short, I have been placed on Performance Review (like probation) unknown # of days. I was apparently putting out crappy work last year, along with being late (is 7:05am late for a 7:00 start? I'm told it is); leaving early (NEVER!); but the worst was being told "in a random sampling of emails, a number of Jackie's responses were found to be curt." Nation, on my worst day ever - screaming at the husband, sucking so much oxygen that my dental plate dislodges from the roof of my mouth, I am not curt. I am genetically incapable of being curt. I just wanted to put this whole episode behind me, and since I have no intention of going out and looking for another job, I signed the paperwork and promised myself that if anything comes up that's questionable here on the job, I'm going right to her and talking about it. Apparently I can't trust a co-worker that I've been talking to. Funny thing; this co-worker cries in emails all the time about how she thinks the manager is mad at her; no responding to her emails, etc. So I keep my fucking distance from anything here except my pc, which has been spitting out Disturbed and Slipknot of late. Nobody bothers me.

My much-beloved child will be walking in graduation ceremony at the end of May. She has graduated cum laude ("with honors" for all non-Latin inclined readers) with a degree in Forensic Psychology, and has applied to graduate school for a masters in Educational Psychology and Professional Certificate in School Psychology. I stated early on here in this blog that she is everything I'm not, and more than I could ever hope to be. And she is. :)

The sister-in-law and husband are coming down from the family compound for the ceremony. Now I'm scrambling to get 1 more ticket to the graduation, as each student is only allowed 4, and with the boyfriend coming also, that only left 1 ticket. I'm already dicking my husband's 91-year-old aunt, who has been asking since last year and wanting to go. I'm sure I'll burn for this.

Hair is crazy grey but seems to be only growing in the fron on top of my head. Can't wait till it's long enough for a pony tail. Like the old gray mare - she ain't what she used to be!

Mon., Mar. 16, 2009 - Armagedden

Nation...I'm about as sick to my stomach as one can be with the knowledge of an impending shitstorm from which you cannot jump away. I'll probably be getting my review today, as the manager has been away all of last week - giving reviews to my counterpart in Colorado and the safety manager at a Texas facility. I don't know why reviews require a face-to-face in the age of webcasts, webex, and webinars; not to mention rotary dial telephones. She never sees these people anyway; how can she possibly hold them up to any type of measuring bar for job performance?

I ended up writing a separate 2 full pages of documentations over the accusations and treatment I have received from her over the past year (Jan 2008 - current). A dear friend of mine has told me that I am still grieving for my brother, which is of course quite true. I'm sure most of anything I thought, said or have done since July 1 2007 has been under a haze of grief. My boss has lost her father (after a long illness 4 years ago); her mother is still quite alive as is her sister. She was quite close to her father and was very upset when he passed, however, I do not think she can empathize with me over my loss, but when thinking of this, I do not hold it against her. I do not think she has any idea of the way she comes across: she seems to think she manages with her heart first and then her head, but I think by 'heart' she means interpretive feelings. She feels she cannot trust me, yet she has no way of proving any of her suspicions and, conversely, I have no way to prove that I am here on time, and staying later than necessary - if that's what it would take FOR her to trust me. I asked security and IT for reports indicating my building arrival/departure times, computer login/logoff times. Both have indicated that the company does not record this information as it would be too much of a potential Big Brother situation.

I know I have stated in this blog previously about her trust issues with me. I have also stated that it's all I can do to keep from laughing in her face about trust. I know from long, painful experience that there is nothing in this world that can move one person to trust another, once they get a thought in their head. Doesn't matter that the thought, once verbalized, is denied by the so-called guilty party. It also doesn't matter that the thought CAN be proven to be FALSE; the suspicious mind will never bring it to that point. Then they'd have to question themselves, "could I maybe have been wrong?" Individuals with self-esteem issues are always suspicious of the ones closest to them; probably for whatever reason they thinkof themselves as either unlovable or unworthy. And it never, ever matters how much or how often they hear otherwise. They just are incapable of believing it.

Oh well...
Into the valley of death rode the 600 ("The Charge of the Light Brigade")
Yea, though I walk through the valley of death I fear no evil, for thou art with me (funeral rite)
It's the end of the world as we know it; but I feel fine (REM)
This is the end, beautiful friend, the end (The Doors)
"Stay alive! No matter what occurs; I will find you." ("The Last of the Mohicans")

If I survive the battle, I will return to blog again.