Margm

She (counselor) will call me tomorrow. She wants to talk to their psychiatrist today, she knows me, and will take his recommendations. I will give him my first try. He might fire me on sight. (No, I will actually be nice and listen to him/her, I will be on my best behavior) because I do need help. My sister cannot understand me.. I told her I would only go to MD if I start running a fever and she knows I have an "I don't care if I live or not" feeling. So, I have to work on that, I am sure. I did make sure all my records were sent to the family practice service I have used here once. They added another hypertension med for the daytime.

Polly, I would have cried all day. My daughter cannot understand me. I know that Roger Miller is gone and when I was driving with my daughter she was just amazed that she had to turn off "trailers for sale or rent, rooms to let 50 cents." because I started crying.

Oh Karen, this breaks my heart. Bless her heart, bless your heart. A widow friend of mine told it to me. Finding breath to breathe had to be one of the hardest things for you to do. Hugs to you my friend.

Yeah Marty, you have ruined me for a counselor. I don't think I can find any as good as you. But, I do have a counselor looking for me a psychiatrist that I won't feel I am smarter than. (It's gonna be a hard hunt for her.) Wonder if that is what my sister meant by me needing humility.

Got a lot on my mind. This is Monday. Some things I cannot do anything about. I used to remind myself "who do you think you are, God?" This too shall pass. I cannot believe the little things that were no bigger than a mosquito bite now feel like a dragon blowing fire. When I was 30, I would not give some of these things a second thought. They would get taken care of when I felt the need to take care of them. Now they are tsunami's fixing to fall on my head, and I cannot swim. They used to be such tiny things. It is not the problems that changed, it is me.

I met my cousins for breakfast this morning. Nothing untoward said at all. We reminiscence and it was wonderful. I left early because my colon rupture does not let me out of the house much that early in the morning. We joked about our mother's being the two craziest, and they were. My aunt was a character, just like my mom. Three of the sisters got married over one summer and I know my grandma was able to breathe easier. And we are huggers. I don't know how many times we hugged but I did cry when I saw Anne and she did too. We all grew up like brothers and sisters, we were so close and lived so close. But me and my mind was going at top speed. The dad used to be a football player, was being inducted into a hall of fame yesterday. Those two boys of his take him by plane to LSU ballgames from Michigan, to Ireland, all over the place.. They are with him almost constantly when they are not fathering all their kids and working as doctors, and love him so much. He is in terrible shape, pacemaker, arthritis and a bunch of joints replaced more than once but he smiles constantly through the pain you know he has.. They have a huge house a block from Lake Michigan full of antiques. Neither are in real good health but he pulled through a bad time years ago when they brought the family all in. He is a year older than me. And, you know my mind right now. I cannot stand for my cousin to go through this, but The Master quit letting me play God last year when Billy passed away. Maybe they will be lucky and go together. Well, don't I have a dumpity down mind today. I am sorry. I was so glad to see my cousins. Nothing untoward was said at all.

Patty, we are so misunderstood, and sometimes maybe just an afterthought. No, our family would not brush us off. I don't know what my sister means when she says I need humility. I've looked it up. I am not arrogant at all (well, not all the time anyhow). If it would help I would dig for that humility. But your smile, it will return and it will go away again and then return, but we don't smile from our heart, we smile with the muscles in our face. They need to look at our eyes. But what do I know? Honestly, she tried to explain the humility I was missing and my mind just shuts a cold steel plate to the words I guess.

Two of my friends tell me to take Psalms and read it. So far I have been stubborn. I think I am stubborn about a lot of stuff. Maybe that is the humility my sister says I need to find.

"My Saving Grace" could not be more appropriate. Thanks for making us smile. She is so adorable, I just want to hug her.

Up too early. I like to sleep in, but "have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep" (again). Megan's "Refuge in Grief" this morning pointed to something we discuss all the time on here, what other people say to us. You know really, we give those other people too much power over us. Who are they? Are they going to pay your utilities this month? Even if they were, they still have no power over us except what we give them. I have got to go meet a passel of relatives for breakfast this morning. This too shall pass. I love them all. I truly do. But, it is like I am a seer and can see their future. Where I am now, so they will be and if I could, I would save them, but I cannot. We have to live life and sometimes it is so very painful. Sometimes so painful that what they say, what people who mean well, what they say slides off like water off a duck's back. But to get to Megan's passage from part of her blog this morning. "There is so little energy available during early grief. Just making it through the morning takes immense reserves. Getting out to the grocery store requires endless pep talks before, and often a nap after. Getting into a conversation - even a healthy one - about boundaries and kindness is just not high on the list of things-to-do. Couple that with the fact that many people refuse to hear that what they're saying isn't helpful, well - no wonder many grieving people decide to just keep their mouths shut." My poor little sister last night told me I had not found humility yet. I asked her if I was arrogant and she said I missed the point. I have to find humility in my grief. She meant well, she really did. She might be right too, but somehow I do not comprehend the meaning. I don't want her hurt, I don't want any of my family hurt. So, when humility hits me on the head, I will welcome it. I think everything points toward my faith and that is something I still cannot find the right path to. Given enough time, I hope I will.

Reading is good, the best really, I just have to really concentrate. There was a big reunion that I missed today so I have to make up for it at breakfast tomorrow morning. Got lots of kinfolks from the north country I gotta see. They were flatlanders all their life but their son's are doctors up north and they moved to be around them and their four grandchildren. Gotta make myself presentable. (That means I gotta take a shower dammit)

Scott went to a counselor. A young one. She told him to write a letter to his dad and say what he wanted to say. He told her that he and his dad always talked, there was nothing any more he wanted to say to him. They left on very good terms except Scott's hero is gone. I cannot go to a book educated counselor. Sorry. I never cared for Dr. Joyce Brothers. I don't know why. (I have changed my mind. Her feet were put to the coals. I do not want to step on any toes, but there is a difference in book educated and life educated. Dr. Brothers outlived her husband by quite a few years, but they had been together over 40 years. I am going to quote her. I think she passed away a couple or three years ago.She talks about counseling for grief, but she herself said she did not understand. "The pain is necessary. Only by experiencing it to its full degree can you heal yourself. When Milt died I found myself in a dark tunnel of grief. There was only the past (and I could not go back) and the present (a cold and lonely hell.) I could not envision a future. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. I cannot promise a widow/widower that what I have to say in this book will blunt her raw sense of loss or banish her loneliness. What I can do is chart the course of the pain -- horrendous, unceasing and cruel that we call grief and reassure her that this is normal and that all widows travel this same road, and I can offer hope. I spent the first six or seven months after he died in one long wail of despair. What was to become of me, what was I to do? What was left in life for me. For one mad moment I hovered on the brink of suicide. " I will stop on that. Just something we all have to go through. Today is bad for me. Brianna (my constant companion for months) has gone to Dallas to a 5-SOS concert. I spent the morning crying and talking to Billy. I even stooped so low as to ask him to show me some sign he knew what I was going through. I got no signs. All I have is a headache from crying. Maybe I needed the "by myself" time. I will try to read tonight or watch Netflix. Got to remember to go let Kelli's pups out to potty.

I cried constantly changing over from the Toyota truck to the little Ford Ranger. The Ford was older, but I could not pull the RV and Scott could with the Toyota. Billy had given the RV to Scott on one of the times he knew he was not going to make it, because he knew I was not going to give up on him and he already knew the outcome. But, I got that little Ford Ranger fixed up for me, got it in shape, did lots of repairs. I want a little car. It hurt to see the big black Toyota every time I would see it for awhile. But Billy could not drive it anymore. He did not need it. Today is 11 months. I hate autumn. Used to be my favorite.

Well Kevin, you are just gonna have to keep us all informed all the time of your improvement. So glad you are excited about this.

Mama had one person bring over a dish. And, it was a friend of mine who brought it to the apartment, brought a whole meal. Honestly, it used to be that when someone passed away there were casseroles in the freezer for months. Just like sitting out on the porch and visiting on Sunday before church, cemetery workings, family reunions (I mean the old time family reunions with the pig roasting all night over open coals, people staying up and turning it, neighbors (because everyone was kin) from miles around, trying to keep the flies off the dishes that all the relatives brought, all the sisters going around telling you that you had to try her new so-and-so dish, and the big old hound dogs laying around in the yards, the chickens running loose under the trees, and watching where you step. Dinners on the ground at church (outside on boards nailed to the trees). I think maybe when AC came along and TV, people quit visiting and it took away a lot of our humanity. Big churches now have committees that get together to take dishes when someone dies. The neighbors brought things when Billy passed away, but Mama had not lived in her house except about fifty years. She was a hermit though, so is my sister. I guess no one knew they were there.

I took Prozac for many years from its drug approval until after I retired. I could not cry. Somehow, that is one side effect I don't want. A lot of things I could not feel with it. It made me have bad dreams. This has made all the family laugh for years. One night I had a particular bad dream. Billy had always told me if I was in a fight to fight dirty, bite, pick up sticks, etc. (I was 5 feet tall). One night I dreamed I was fighting a group of "manly" women. One had my head on the ground beating me up. In my sleep I bit the hell out of Billy on the back. He jumped up out of the bed wanting to know what was going on. The doctor cut the Prozac way down and then discontinued it. I cannot tell you what I dreamed last night, this week, last month, but I can tell you about that dream so many years ago. Billy told everyone. So, I guess those drugs have side effects you cannot even "dream" about.

Gwen, I am sorry. I have reiterated too many times on here that my "innards" will not let me take certain medications. The plain old trazodone, which actually is an antidepressant too, made me very ill. Before the colon rupture, I had taken it to help me sleep years ago. Now it made me very ill. So, how do I tell a doctor (who thinks he knows more than me, the idiot) that I cannot take his antidepressants? I do remember they gave Zoloft to elderly patients. My mom even took it. But, they cannot understand that a belly that will no longer let me eat corn in an form but grits cannot take different medications.. I hate it when doctors think they know my body better than I do. I have a day of feeling bad (forgot to take my Miralax) and my sister asks if I have made my appointment with the doctor. I'm sorry, I don't trust doctors and their multipharma medicine. I have told you all that I have typed up to 36 prescription medicines for old people. As high as dog and cat food is now, they cannot even afford that after their medications. You see, you have nausea from your new medication and they give you a nausea medicine. Then you have diarrhea from the nausea medicine and they give you a diarrhea medicine. Eventually, you go to a doctor that says what is wrong is the medications you are on and he starts weaning you off. Okay, I am doing okay this morning. I remembered the word. It is called polypharmacy. Do not get caught in this trap. And, I still think doctors get kickbacks from pharmacy companies if they prescribe their medications. I worked for doctors. In my case, a little knowledge is a bad thing. I see them trying new medications on my daughter. One gave her diabetes. I am not kidding or fibbing, one gave her diabetes. One doctor was supposed to draw levels 2-3 months as long as she was on the medication. No levels drawn for three years. She was put in the hospital nearly dead from Depakote. They had to reverse it. One steroid gave her seizures. You think, if I cannot trust doctors, who can I trust. Well, one person you can trust is your own reactions. And sometimes, it does not hurt to go to another doctor for a second opinion. Maybe even a third.

My daughter has been an animal lover all her life. We have had more animals in and out of our house than we have had human friends. I have seen her lose her dogs and her cats and know a member of her family has gone. I have had so much responsibility all my life, I just do not want to be responsible for an animal. I had so many of my pets die, and I just choose not to have one. But don't ever think I do not know the feeling of losing my animal friends. I kept Midget for about 15 years and Daddy had brought him to me in a match box when I was a little kid. Mama would not let me keep him in the house. He would sit on the porch at Halloween and just wet all over the porch but he was not going to let those monsters inside the house. He was a tiny thing. I hate it when any of you lose your fur babies and a horse has to be a very big hurt too. My heart goes out to each of you and I know you are hurting. I just dread when my daughter calls crying, and it has happened a lot in her 49 years. But, I will never have another one. I am at the age, he would outlive me and how cruel would that be?

Well Steve, I think I found out in the 4th grade. But that Arizona State turn signal did make me laugh out loud. Thanks to you too. And now Marty too. I have got to start reading these posts from where I left off lots earlier.

Gin, I honestly do not receive communication from him. But if he is out there some time, some where, maybe he hears. Just talk.

Sometimes I think I just want to feel him near me so bad that I make it up in my head. I don't care where it comes from. I will never quit talking to him. Today in the checkout line my granddaughter told me this man was checking me out. I told her to hush, Daddy's gonna hear her. Probably an old classmate that could not believe I was as old as he was now.(I didn't look). I just got in so have not checked. Gin, I hope you have heard from your son. And Gin, just keep talking to him. Maybe just talking to him helps. I know it helps me. I don't know if he hears me. I want to think he does. I am just gonna keep thinking he does. In fact, next time I talk to him I will tell him to tell Al to come listen to you. I just don't think he hears you, or either you aren't talking. Hey, I honestly can say sometimes I feel my mystical, magical imagination flash on and off for a second. Billy never believed in it. Now maybe he does.

Tattle-tale, tattle tale. I think there is a verse that goes with that, but I don't remember it.

Ya'll, I have grown old and jaded. Nothing surprises me anymore. (That is a lie really, I still get surprised at the evil in people). Being stupid and ignorant, they don't surprise me, but sometimes being just plain evil does surprise me. The little girl going for a coloring book and losing her life. When I was a kid we went through yards, alleyways, back roads to get to school. I was 6-12 years old. Nothing ever bothered me but one of the neighbor's Great Dane's. That dog was so much bigger than I was, but he was inside a fence. Small town USA. Now the thing going on Facebook is Hillary's language. Lord knows, if I was married to Bill I would come up with some new curse words too. Not meaning politics on here but Trump does not speak softly and carry a big stick. (Look at the size of his hands), but I do get off subject. Mama was always a church worker.. Daddy died and she moved her "letter" to the little country church with all the wonderful country people living around her. She got down and bedridden for awhile, put her in rehab, then when she came out do you think a single one of her little Baptist Church members came to check on her? Heck no. Did anyone of them come to take her to church (she could not drive), well of course not. She watched church on TV. She never fussed about it.. I am the type of person that writes Walmart main corporation if I have a complaint. I wish I had gotten up in her church and told them what I thought. Reminds me of the time one of my childhood neighbors got up in front of our Baptist Church and asked forgiveness for having a child out of wedlock. Then, my dad as one of the three deacons brought in this man and woman on Wednesday night business meeting. Brought them in to throw them out. (Lived together but were not married.) Even at age 11 or 12 I was thinking why in the world would they even come and I also thought that I would have waved the bird at all of them on my way out the door. Sometimes I am a hypocrite, but I am a mean hypocrite. I know there is a passage in the Bible somewhere that we ought to help the widows. Maybe that was Shakespeare.

Gin, we had a chow that sat on our doorsteps and would not let the police in. Yes, my son had a traffic warrant and they came all the way down to the lake where we all lived. Bear (the chow) would not let them out of the car. They did not shoot him, they used their loud speaker and one of us came to the door. Usually we would come anyhow because it was a dead end road. If he has that mean a dog, then you need to find him, if for no other reason than what you wrote above. Your tired of worrying. I told you, I can get mean.