Margm

Please, don't look for Annette. It is sad, but there was only one Annette. If you go in comparing, looking for the same things, you might not find her again. "Another" will have her own ways. If you compare, it would not be fair to "her." You cannot clone Annette, and you just have to follow your heart. If "she" does not live up to your priorities, you might try living up to "hers" Pardon the pun, but you could kiss a lot of frogs before you find your princess. I try to compare it to my son's expectations. He likes younger women, but if he gives them a chance, one closer to his age might appreciate him more than a young inexperienced one. He used to be DJ in a strip club and often would "bring his work home with him." One of those women he liked but did not respect.. She had a small son and it turns out she was paying for her education. She is now a lawyer. His last long term relationship was a train wreck for all the time he was with her. His dad's death has had him depressed along with the relationship ending, by him. I have high hopes he will find happiness. I would imagine you will too. It won't be the same. But, you have to want happiness again, and you have to give yourself time to grieve.

Since the colon rupture, I am chained to a commode somewhere, preferably at my own. I have grown so used to some feelings, some foods, unrealistic low residue diet, that I can truly feel sympathy for your feelings. With the iron causing opposite things than rapid visits to the bathroom, stress, pain, all could be playing a part. Sometimes at night I cannot eat anything but crackers (Nabisco or Keebler) and certainly nothing with any acid taste. I know to keep small waste basket, heavily sacked to hold close to my face. Does not happen that often now, but would without the crackers. I hope your test is negative and I hope this nausea stops. I know it adds pain to the back and chest to have to throw up. People laugh at the wall in front of my commode.. I have at least seven crosses and Angels on my wall. I have been known to sit there and say "Please God, if you stop this pain I promise never to eat chocolate again." I have since tasted it, small taste only. Even with that I know what to expect. I can leave the house if I do not drink or eat anything till I get home and even that is not a guarantee. Your too young to have all my aches and pains and my heart is with you and hope you find relief soon.

I have the plastic boxes still filled with moving from over five years ago. My bed is the California king size. I have a space between the stacked boxes and my bed. It is just big enough for me to get in and out of bed comfortably with my personal items on top of the plastic boxes covers. (My bedside tables I call them). For some reason, I fell during the past year we have lived here, in fact, I have fallen twice (tripped). My granddaughter gets aggravated because I won't let her help me up. First off, I have to assess if I can get up on my own. No room for her to get in between me and the bed and boxes. I take my time. Know it hurts, but if I can get up, I'm okay. Just give me a moment. I'm okay. Knees hurt for a few days. Then I trip in the entrance hall, my fault. I'm on all four's, pull myself to sitting position, back against wall. Knees hurt. I'm 5 feet tall, used to be a little taller. I think carrying around these hips has pulled my body down an inch or so. Skinned knee from carpet burn. I sit for awhile, then try to move knees around. Finally, I pull myself up. If I need help, I sure would ask for it, but have to be able to find out for myself first. So far, so good. Knees ache a lot of times. I know I have done some damage, but I can still walk. No locking or giving way yet. I'm afraid there will come a time. I have canes stashed in corners. I've been lucky. This pandemic keeps us more immobile than usual. I can still get up the stairs at my sister's apartment. I don't bound up them, but I can hold on and pull myself. Her breathing is affected if she walks too far, but stairs were in her rehab. Much to my granddaughter's chagrin, I'm not getting rid of my boxes. I feel like I'm sleeping in our RV again, and that was the best sleeping I've ever had. She says I'm a hoarder. 🐷 Could be.

My son is 58. This past year he began his full time job at the VA Hospital. His first thing to do was contact COVID, which he gave to his 53-year-old sister with 0 immunity. They both mostly slept the virus off and drank fluids with OTC fever meds. Neither needed hospitalization, but were in quarantine for awhile. As far as I'm concerned, both of their lives are just beginning. At 51, you have hopefully many years left. At age 78, if Billy was still with me, he would get angry if I thought of myself as old. He never got old. I look at pictures and he had aged into an even better looking man than when we first met when he was 20. We both retired together and felt like we had the world ahead of us. We pulled the RV out from our home park the day after our retirement parties. I was 55, he was 57. And, we both thought the road was our home, forgetting our children, who we had gladly enabled, our children were not ready for us to leave. We belonged to an RVing club that had slogans on their RV's like "we are spending our kid's inheritance" and in one adult park we had to show identification, they thought we were too young. Actually, we had to go back "home" and finish all the enabling we had bestowed on our grown children. We could not have enjoyed our nomad lifestyle if we lost one of our grown children. So we began a new life that lasted 20 years for Billy, and I'm dragging it along the remainder of the way. So, there comes a time to have endings, there comes another time to have beginnings. One of our own on this forum, actually more than one, have pushed through this wall of grief to start a new life. At 51 you feel old, but you are not even at retirement age yet. We retired early, but we had enough years in to retire. I have friends who remarried after losing their first spouse. Some have flourished. One I was concerned about. Her new husband suffered a heart attack on their honeymoon and she spent the next 10-15 years lovingly taking care of him. He passed and all the things she did not take notice of about her own health, they are now taking her slowly down. She found out she had to have a heart valve replaced, then she had a stroke, she had COVID, but she is still managing with some small help from her children and grandchildren. The thing I was afraid of, she had not taken time to grieve her children's father before remarrying. Then when the second husband passed, she grieved both of them together. I cannot imagine the weight of grief she carries. I call to check on her but she gets political, and actually, who has time for that? I still remember, maybe my last day of identifying a real happy moment, August of 1997. I stepped out of the very comfortable RV, coffee was made. I looked across and the Caddo River was running beautifully clear. Premature brown leaves were falling with the breeze, cooler in the little mountain valley we were parked in. We owned the world, and it was not money, it was time spread before us. Nature was beautiful. Billy was "sleeping in" and I could not wait to explore the new surroundings. Funny and sad when you can remember happiness as a moment back in time. I'm sorry some of you did not get to have as many years as Billy and I had together. We battled many demons during those 54 years, we battled each other's feelings also. We both said things that were hurtful to each other, but we lived through all the broken promises, the loving but not liking each other a bunch of times, we fought our illnesses together, many of them. We tried out each new diet guru's books and meals. Trying to control his blood pressure in his 30's we went without salt. I tried cooking with substitutes for the salt and finally he and I both agreed to cut down on the salt, but food just was not worth eating without some salt. We both knew I was going to die first. We fought my illnesses and somehow I was not afraid finally of the cancer returning. At 51, you have a life ahead of you. Maybe alone for a long while, maybe not. Death happens when we least expect it to, but so does life.

It was all a misunderstanding on my part. I'm sorry. I think we all worry about having enough money, helping family, trying not to need help from family, old values, old assumptions of things you know nothing about, customs, my Grinch feelings for Christmas and my knowing (but not wanting to) help provide holiday feelings when, like all of you, my Christmas passed when Billy did. Knowing my grandfather's died and still the families carried on, we had our big reunions still even though my grandfather's were gone, will have two grandchildren,, one great grandchild at Christmas and my underlying feeling "I don't do Christmas." I think there is a country song that has the words "I'm just a ghost in this house" and that is how I feel about the holidays, plus add in having to buy gifts for everyone and them even going together and having a gift list of things they want, (pick one) written on line and passed around. I am now the head of this little family and I just want to "Grinch-out" of the whole season. I have to think of all the others, that is supposed to be what I'm good at, but I kind of want to hide. Do you know last year I didn't buy a present for anyone. Not a wrapped present period.. I don't want to get them, I don't want to give them. Worrying about breathing behind that mask, (no way will I go without one, of course), I've got to somehow shop for all this. Presents bought, wrapped, we have three Christmas trees, two small, one large, one old fashioned ceramic. Okay, now I will go to town and breathe behind the mask. I'm sorry, I get unwired sometimes.. Too many Christmas lights.

I revised my post. No, I have not had COVID, just my regular brain rewiring.

Okay, I have deleted what I wrote. I seem to carry around a bunch of guilt all the time and I acted on it. What all I said, I think I misunderstood, and this is all on me and my weird country brain. I did delete what I said so no one else will mistake what my feelings were. I'm sorry. Sometimes I get things so screwed up. I hope by deleting what I wrote might help. Okay, I'll tell a story, (probably already have told it). My granddad (my dad's dad) gave each of his kids a certain amount of land, legally deeded it to them. Four kids. My mom took the deed down to the bank, small town, everyone knew each other. She wanted to borrow the amount of money the land was worth. She then paid the bank loan off and paid my granddad for the land. He didn't want to take the money, but that was the way she was. She didn't feel like it was hers till she paid for it. They co-signed for our first car and it was paid off ahead of time, by me, but bless their hearts, I never taught my kids the lessons my mom taught me. If I had to do it over again, I would still enable them and our son said we did, and both of us said we would do the same thing all over again.

I just think those seven years of amphetamines and cold turkey withdrawal may have crystalized some basic brain functions. Some times I'm not "just right" even with all those years psychotherapy.

Karen, I cannot imagine living in a more beautiful place than where we lived. The house was built in 1965, but someone had kept it up and made improvements. Everything was fixed so elderly could get out of a tub, hold on while showering, and so many closets and rooms we didn't even use. The surroundings though. I cannot describe like a picture the daffodil wildly growing everywhere, the pink dogwood, the beautiful terrain. All built in hills and valleys where the woods were the foremost things you saw. Someone had a green thumb (not me) and each season the apple trees flowered and I had an orange rose bush that was beautiful. Somehow, I managed to kill the rose bush and the apple trees and after I left the huge, flowering pink dogwood split right down the center and died. There was a lilac bush on the side of the house I never went on and it flourished. My sister bought me a gardenia bonsai bush for the house. Brianna named it Keith. I have managed to kill Keith too. The dogwood went back to its graft and the rest was dead. Without Billy there, that place was just a pretty place for someone else to keep up, not me. I needed to leave while the iris's still bloomed, the spider lilies, and all the other bulbs that had washed downhill to the little stream at the bottom of the hill. Funny, paradise for one person is hell for another. I did not put it on the market. I leased it and now they are having it put in their name. Does not cost me a cent, and I didn't ask for any money for it either. But the Christmas's when I was a child, I remember most of them. Enough that when they told me there was not a Santa Claus I did not believe them. The seven years I was on the amphetamines to keep me awake so I could work at night, I have forgot. I can remember little things over 70 years ago like it was yesterday, but five minutes ago, I cannot remember. And Heaven help me if my system goes astray and I do not put my glasses, phone, keys, purse, etc. in the place it goes. My mind won't remember where I lost them, so that does not happen very often.

Five years later, I am just discovering things I forgot. Not from memory. The fog I was in was too deep to remember that period of time. I was moving and suggested someone had picked up Billy's fly rods that he had wrapped blanks and were crafted by him. He loved doing that. I lost a rod he had wrapped for me falling out of a pirogue many years ago. He had put my name on it and it was purple and gold. I will never fly fish again, did not like fly fishing, but I hated them being picked up by a man that was throwing things in the back of his truck, even a water hose. I could have told him to quit, but I did not have a "mind" at that time. This was a month or so after Billy had left. I mentioned it and my son had got every one of them. He won't fly fish, but my daughter will. When this happens, you are in a black fog that you cannot see or really remember. It does not really clear up to where you remember. My psychiatrist told me sometimes the mind does that as a protection for you and your cognitive function. I call it protection. Some things I have to forget willingly.

My friends (anniversary party) died within a couple of days of each other. Another set of friends also within days of each other. Another acquaintance upon going to the "viewing" passed away in front of her husband's casket. Sounds gory, but all I can think of is the other one did not suffer grief long, if the other ones were conscious. Johnny Cash did not linger around after June Carter passed either, but I can only imagine the pain in those few days. We look at it with horror, and then a sense of relief for both of them in each case. The woman at the electricity office where I had my temp checked before I paid my bill, her with gloves on, she had her plexiglass cover. I admire people for not taking chances. She was an essential worker, and this is our only defense.

Y'all, I paid my rent. Sometimes I just put it in the slot provided by check and sometimes I go in and talk to "her." I moved in here November of last year. Her first husband had passed away three years before but she was getting remarried soon, not sure date. She is about my kids age. Found out today he passed away of cancer in August. They found out about eight weeks before it happened like we found out about Billy's about six weeks. I told her my heart was with her, but no words would help, I was just so sorry. I wonder (my close friend's 2nd husband lasted about 12-14 years,) her taking care of him all the time, heart attack on wedding night. First husband was Billy's friend, she had two girls that call me "aunt" and my kids call her "Aunt" also. We are that close. Her heart had to be operated on, a new valve and then one thing and then another, then a "slight" stroke. She took care of everyone but herself. I know she gets the two husbands mixed up when speaking of them, does that mean she grieves twice as hard. I don't know. She is still sounding okay anyhow. I guess I could say she is in good shape for the shape she is in. And there are always going to be "days" and then more days and more days. Then sometimes you will have a look back into the past, actually thinking you'd never thought of things. And you hadn't, and some things just need to stay forgotten and only good things remembered. Won't happen, but it would be nice if you could self-hypnotize yourself.

So very happy for you Kevin. She looks happy too, so I wish the very best and a long life for you two. And, you can already sing together.

I think that would be a class I might like to study, comparative mythology" although I used to live by fairies, monsters, etc. This is not a joke. I would have a recurring nightmare (not every night, but often,) and would wake up frightened. I did have psychotherapy for 15 years and never thought to mention this oddity. Maybe because I sort of liked it. Our bed was one of the old iron beds with a bottom that had a metal rail on it, smooth brown, rounded. At night I would wake up and various creatures would haunt my dreams. Yes, werewolves, vampires, witches, etc. This happened often until Scott was about four, sleeping between us. The lights from the highway would bounce off our windows in the little subdivision that Billy's uncle built us a little house, the main road did not lead directly into the little enclave. Billy's uncle and cousins lived in the other houses on the outskirts of Longview, TX. Closer to White Oak, TX. Mind you, Billy had soothed me from my nightmares and did not make fun of me. Then one night, I woke with the lights shining through the big window at the foot of our bed and woke Billy telling him I saw three little green men at the foot of our bed. (Leprechauns, I guess). He jumped up and said "wait a minute, I see four of them" and ran to the tool closet and came out with a "crowbar." By this time we both had woke up (He had joined in my nightmare, unconsciously). I had realized it was "one of my nightmares" and he had too and he was so embarrassed. But, that one fear of his joining in cured me of the nightmares forever. I don't know why I had them, too many fairy tales when I was more of a child than I was at that moment in time. Told it to my dad who had one of those infectious laughs that you had to laugh until you cried, just because he could not quit laughing. He did the same thing telling about Billy falling out of the boat when they were fishing once. I miss those two men often.

I keep thinking if we had news in 1918-1919 (year my dad was born) how they would be announcing it. I think they called it the Spanish flu. We once went way up into a mountain, no other towns, road twisted up to the top entrance into the Gila Wilderness. It was a booming little mining town named Mogollon, NM. I guess it is a ghost town, but they still have people carrying on business and living there. Like living on an island in the sky. I went down to their cemetery and they were most all dated 1918 as date of death. Had to have brought it in from Reserve, Glenwood, or Silver City. Wiped them out nearly. We had no money when we were first married and lived from payday to payday all our life. We didn't have any idea how those people lived and died, but we are learning.

Love you Ana, I figured that was one of my old timey country sayings, we have so many. Think they must have it in other countries also. In fact, we may have swiped it.

So sad for the family but I am crying but smiling for the couple. Ironically, I've told this too, the grown son wanted to give an anniversary party for his parents. I cannot remember the number, it was wonderful, in the 60's in number of years. I remember the man was getting out of high school when I first remember him. He was the oldest and his dad was one of three deacons with my dad in this small Missionary Baptist Church. There were, I think, 28 at the party. One of the servers had COVID (and had no symptoms). I think 24 out of the 28 came down with the virus. One man, "in-law" by relation had gone so he could see his great grandchildren, which also were the great grandchildren of the anniversary couple. The "in-law" passed away first, next the anniversary wife, and about 3-4 days later, maybe sooner, the anniversary husband passed. It was their last anniversary and will haunt that son the rest of his life. Some people think it is a hoax for political purposes. Our politics are insane.

I try not to listen to the news. I did tonight, CBS Evening News and talking about COVID and the Thanksgiving numbers, and I don't think those numbers are in yet but it showed the picture of this Michigan couple married for, I think, 47 years. It was said they did everything together and they each died within 60 seconds of the other. Only in this group can we possibly understand and give a thumbs up for both of them.

Agree 100%.

My first (and last) cancer survivor group did not help me, and at that time I could not help them. My group at the church, like the one Kay chaired (I think) had me hysterical when I would leave each one. I was grieving a husband, they were grieving children, and it honestly made my problem seem small compared to theirs. I knew they did not want to be in a meeting grieving lost children, and I think I went three times. Each time I left crying. This group is the only one that has helped me. One on one with a grief counselor that has had 20 years training does not compare to one person who has felt your real feelings. I have not had COVID (and I'm knocking on wood, and hope someone understands that meaning), But, I have had grief, and there are some of you who have nearly drowned in the different forms of grief. We have depression, but it is situational depression that I do not believe a pill will cure/help. We are here, and that is all I can say. I didn't think I was "cured" but I did think I had gone many miles down my path, only to start over again, and perhaps skim along, until I can't.

I have said all along that Billy and I didn't discuss either of us dying. That was a forgotten memory that my sister just reminded me of. We did talk about it. Whichever went first would just take the other's ashes along where ever we went. I just never really thought about it anymore, we were not serious. That would have been serious only if one of us was to die. That was not going to happen. I wished I had talked to my sister before I poured my heart out on here. Sometimes we forget, but yes Billy had to remember because everyone except me thought I was going to die. Sometimes I let my heart get ahead of my brain. My stupid feelings were hurt that he was planning another life. Maybe some guilt because I should have gone first. Sometimes I think I have a handle on it Gwen, sometimes I think I'm doing okay, then some little something does knock the scar tissue off.

Okay, I was feeling let down by Billy. (I've since gone and talked this all out with my sister). Billy was a planner. When we had to help save Scott from the drugs we got "off the road," sold the RV, bought a house in a town where it was known to have a small art community. We moved Scott in with us and he got himself off drugs. No one he knew, not close to where he knew the suppliers. He stayed in the house, in his bedroom with adjoining bath, and he stayed alone for awhile, then he started coming around us, eventually he was clean.. Billy planned. And yes, according to my sister, everyone thought I was dying. Except me.. He and I did not discuss death because death was denied by me, for either of us. Somehow, even 30 years later, if you have had cancer, in the back of your mind you are never clear of it. I remember saying to Billy, "I guess I've had cancer for over 30 years" and he agreed with me. Doctor's had cleared me but I never believed them. My cup was half empty all the time. So, Billy did not let me down. Death itself was something I would not talk about. I always believed as long as you are breathing, there is still life. Billy was never superstitious. Well, my mind still believed in fairies and wood sprites and miracles. That all disappeared when Billy left. My mom used to see what she called as her Angels. She saw them last over my dad's bed when he died. It calmed her. I feel things a lot of times, things like I ought not to be in places and would have to leave. I heard the voices ahead of us going up Signal Mountain in the Gila Wilderness in NM. I heard them very plain, more than one woman. Billy said he heard them too. When we got to the top there was no one and no way for them to leave except to walk by us. I read in one of the pamphlets about the area that the voices had been heard before. I was telling someone about them when we got back home and had Billy back me up. Billy said "I didn't hear a thing." The rascal. In the ambulance with us was two little girls about five years old, black hair in matching (except for color) old fashioned pinafore dresses. Favored Darla on the Little Rascals from a hundred years ago. They rode all the way with us. One sitting on the step at driver's entrance, another sitting on opposite step. I can still see them in my mind. (Even though at that time I was in and out of coma). I asked about them when they were unloading me and of course no one else had seen them. We never talked about it and I never planned for sure what I would do if Billy died. We did not speak of it at all when I was sick. He didn't let me down, he just faced reality. I do not like reality. I try not to go there often and I'm sorry I visited there yesterday and today. I'm okay again, as okay as any of us can be.

My history is on here so many times and I don't need to keep repeating it. I'm sorry. Just did some heavy unnecessary thinking, memories I didn't want to think about, but it did make me see things I had forgot. Kind of like all of these plastic tubs with the tops on them with duct tape with contents written on them. I can open one of the boxes and the memories make me depressed the whole day and that is just opening and closing them. Just a phone call brought this on. It has been five years. But, like my grandma said, "seems like yesterday."

There is nothing about me that can be fixed. It has lasted six years and I think if I lived alone it would be easier. I love that little girl so much though that I fear the trauma of her finding me deceased. So, I will try to keep on.. I'll go when it is time and nothing I can do about that.

Nah, it is just an everyday thing for a fighter like you. Your our Wonder Woman, you have this. You have stomped on things worse than this and came out on the other side. It is no fun, but your a fighter. I know you get tired, but that is when your mind overcomes all this and you fight harder. “A fighter never gives up. His scars are his ornaments. He may never be whole, yet he’s bigger than all his battles and beautiful, even in his brokenness.”― Mona Soorma, Soul Food And Instant Karma I do wish we did not have this COVID thing. They took Kelli's best friend to the ICU. She has two nephrostomy tubes, pneumonia, septic from a crimped tube and urine all throughout her system. She was so septic she could not make any sense and when they put her in the ICU, found out she has COVID also. Her son was murdered, shot in the back by the boyfriend of his ex-wife who he had won custody of his child. She (her friend) was living in and paying the notes on her mom's house. Sister and mom evicted her. Police won't let them yet. Can you imagine doing this to your family? She has a place to live if she gets out of the hospital this time, her husband is doing all he can. She didn't see him in the hall (he cannot be with her, of course), so she got up, pulled every tube out, got her clothes on and was leaving. They have her in soft restraints now. Kelli talked to her on phone today and it is the first day in awhile she has made sense. She has her husband and another son, but that girl is so sick. We are women, we are fighters, because we can do nothing else.