Are You Lurking?

Lately I feel more like a lurker than a participant here in The Land of Blog. I probably feel this way because that is pretty much what I have been doing. Lurking. I really love reading what everyone is posting about. Whether it's about their workouts, their calorie counts, their kids, their pets, their lives in general, it's nice to keep up with everyone. I know I posted a little while ago about how busy my schedule has been. It really has been that busy. But I have been lurking just the same. Not just here in The Land of Blog but in Life too.

In addition to being so busy I have found that I need more "down time" for my brain. I haven't been able to come up with anything that would be remotely funny, slightly entertaining or even mildly boring to write about. Bigun just posted about this years race season and how much fun it was. He took us on a tour down memory lane with a lot of the photos we had posted previously. It was a truly wonderful post. Not a lot of "smack talk" (very unusual) and lots of overall nice warm fuzzy sorts of feelings. It was a great post. It exemplified just how we have felt all year long as a part of the Tri community. When I say Tri community I include all of you who stop in and grace our blogs with your time and your thoughts.

I know I am not the only one who goes through the phase of writer's block. Everyone experiences it on occasion and let their blog sort of hold it's own. I noticed I have lost some readers lately because of my lack of blogging. Sorry to let some of you down. Hopefully when I get past this Holiday Season I can get my mind back on track. Then maybe I can get past the lurking status I seem to be holding in and return to my usual chatty commenting self. I know, you can't wait...

I don't usually get "too personal" here on my blog but on occasion I'll open the window a little wider. I don't have the charm and finesse that Nytro exhibits, nor do I have the articulate well thought out writings of Comm and Al. My brief views to what you may call insight come no where near what Momo's or Geek Girl's do. I am mostly a superficial poster. My personal life remains mostly a mystery... I guess.??? I try to keep my posts funny so that there is some form of entertainment you can take away. Perhaps you may even find yourself smiling about my ramblings when your mind turns to it hours after you have read my blog. Yes, wishful thinking, I know.



Part of the reason I have been so quiet and such a lurker on the blog front is my mind is just bogged down with so many things. Not just work but so many other things as well. A couple of weeks ago I posted about the TBI's our soldiers are coming home from the war with and how many of them are basically having to find their own way to help after they are released from active duty. This is a sore spot with me because I grew up an Army Brat. We still have many friends who are active duty. Many of them who are over seas right now putting their lives on the line for our country every day. These are friends who I care deeply about. These are friends who have wives and children here waiting with baited breath every time the phone rings. I heart our military. My heart is broken for the men and women who commit their lives to the Military Service and see little to no support when they need it most. It really does weigh heavy on my mind. How to help with this issue is something I search for every day.

No, I am not going to carry this soap box through the rest of my blogging days but I bring it up because it is personal to me.


My Dad served for 3 years his first go around in the Army and for 23 years on his second term. Those of you who do follow my posts know that I love my Dad with all of my heart. The human heart has a lot of room in it doesn't it? Not my dad's. 1/4 of his heart no longer functions. He has had open heart surgery. He has the "zipper" to prove it. He went through the surgery in 1996. Quadruple bypass at Duke. His surgeon was a leader in medicine. The Dr. really knew his stuff. When I went to Duke with my Dad for his pre-op (which was only supposed to be a double bypass) I was leery of getting my hopes up for my Dad. I didn't tell him this- but I was. I was scared to death. Terrified.

During the "tour" of what would happen during surgery my Dad was asked by his Surgeon if he would be willing to participate in an experimental procedure. It was the use of Artificial Blood. There were two heart surgeries of this sort scheduled for the next day, one of them was my Dad's. My Dad's and one other fellow. The Dr's explained how they were trying to find alternatives for blood supplies. Often times during war or natural disasters, medical emergencies, there is not enough blood to go around. My Dad would be the first human to receive this artificial blood. The doctors touted how they believed this would improve his recovery time, his memory would return faster (or suffer less) and he would feel better all around if they used this new blood. My first thought was, "are you kidding me? This is my Dad. This is the man I want to see walk out of here, not carried out on a stretcher after your little experiment fails". My Dad didn't hesitate for even a millisecond. Do you know what he said?

He said, "Absolutely. If this has the potential to help our soldiers in the event of war time, then I am your man." My Dad said that. He didn't pause, he didn't hesitate. He was willing to risk his life on experimental blood for the futures of our Military men and women. I have been proud of my Dad, always. That day I was prouder of him than any person could be of someone they love.

I picked him up for surgery the next morning at 3:30 am or so. About 12 hours later the surgeons came out to report on his condition. He ended up having much more damage than they anticipated and the double turned into a quadruple by-pass. Okay. He was okay.

Three days later he came out of intensive care and was taken down to the cardiac ward. They said he would be going home in about 2 or 3 days. Home for my folks is North Carolina. They lived about an hour and a half from Duke. Everything seemed to be going fine as far as we could tell. At this time, my home, Bigun's and mine, was in Georgia. So, I drove home thinking I would be back in a week or so once my Dad was back at his home. I barely pulled into my driveway in Georgia and the phone was ringing. I didn't get to it in time to answer. When I played the message back (this was before I had a cell phone) it was my dad's Cardiac Surgeon. Something was wrong. Drastically wrong. My father was back in ICU and they didn't know if he was going to make it. My father was slipping in and out of semi consciousness. It didn't look good. The Dr left a message asking me to call him directly. I did. What he told me blew me away. Blew me away. The Dr tried to tell me that my father's problems were occurring because he was an alcoholic and basically that he was detoxing. WTF?!?!? Yes, I let the Dr have it. My Dad doesn't drink. He wasn't, isn't and never was an alcoholic. This I know for fact. The Dr suggested that perhaps I didn't know my father as well as I thought. Well, this sent another litany of expletives flying out of my mouth over the phone to this Dr. I told him I would be at Duke that night and I wanted to see the medical charts for my Dad. They needed to be handy and ready for me to view the minute I walk through the doors. I got back in my car and returned to NC.

The charts were not available when I walked through the doors. I was getting a run around. I should tell you that I was my Dad's spokesman. He gave me a Power of Attorney just in case something happened. As it turns out, my Dad was "lost" on the operating table. He died for about 3 minutes. He had an allergic reaction to the anesthesia. This was news to me, to my Mom, my whole family. His set back wasn't due to his so called drinking, it was due to his allergy to the anesthesia. No one shared this information with me until I started asking for "Superiors". This Great Dr. decided to find an alternative "blame" that would place responsibility on my Dad. Truth was, they lied to us from the minute they came out of surgery. They conceded that these problems he was experiencing could well be the result of the complications during surgery. Oh - and lets not forget, he received the trial blood. They were trying to keep this out of the whole picture because they didn't want to look towards it as a possible factor. They shuffled their way around like pros. Their behaviour is what gives Dr's a bad name. If they had stepped up to the plate to begin with and not tried to "hide" or "cover up" the things that went wrong, I wouldn't have been so upset. My response wouldn't have been such an angry one. Knowing my father didn't drink and them trying to tell me he does...sent me over the edge. I guess they thought I was some dumb ass that wouldn't be smart enough to ask questions.

Any way, my Dad spent quite a while going in and out of a "coma like" state. He remained in ICU and I remained in NC with him 3 days at a time. 3 days in NC 3 days in GA, 3 days in NC... and so on. When I would go to Duke to be with him I would bring a little visitor with me. The Dr's and Nurses said that my Dad couldn't hear us. Didn't know who we were in his moments of semi consciousness. I didn't believe them. Each day I arrived I would set my back pack down on his bed and unzip the side. 'Biner (pronounced beener, but named after a Carabiner) would slip out and cuddle next to my dad under the covers. She would press her tiny little 3 pounds next to his hand and stay there until the evening when I would get ready to go. None of the hospital staff ever knew she was there.

One day I walked in and my Dad had been moved to the cardiac ward. He was conscious and talking. It was one of the best days of my life. So, when I walked into his room on the 5th floor with my backpack on my shoulder, do you know the first thing he said to me? "Did you bring the dog?" He did hear us, he did know we were there and he couldn't wait to see the little 'Biner for the first time.

Now, here we are eleven years later. My dad is in a bad way. Very Bad. You see, he's suffering from an OCD. He is a compulsive hoarder. In his mind, he's okay. Nothing is wrong with him, it's everyone else who has a problem. I know, many of you think that this isn't really a disease at all. It's just what happens to crazy people when the elevator stops going all the way up. I have to admit, I thought that way too. Then I started doing research on it. I started researching it after I spent 7 days of pure hell in NC this summer. Pure hell on so many levels that I can't even begin to explain. I am going to spare you from the worst of it.
To give you a little insight, my Dad has been hoarding things for so long that all he had were little pathways to each room in his home. Each room was packed from the ceiling to the floor with "stuff". Some of it was good, usable stuff. Most of it was trash. Trash of every kind. He felt that everything was useful or could be. You and I would throw away an empty toilet paper roll right? Not my Dad. He thought it might come in handy some time. If he threw it away, that would be when he would need it.He had doznes of them in plastic bags. If he owned one DVD player, he owned a dozen. One TV - he has 15. And so on and so on...Stacks upon stacks upon stacks of newspapers filled his living room. From the floor to the ceiling. There was only enough cleared space on the sofa for my Dad to sit. Everything else was packed tightly under boxes and bags and stacks of things.

Please don't get me wrong. When I describe my Dad you may think I believe he is perfect. I don't. My Dad is my Dad. He's human and he has his faults and I don't kid myself about these things. He has always been a stubborn, hard headed person who has definite opinions about everything. He hasn't had an easy life by any means. He grew up in the foster system during the 50's and 60's. He never even knew his given name until he joined the Army- the second time. The first time he joined the Army he was under age, so he stole his older brother's birth certificate. The Military was going to open doors for him. The Army meant Freedom.

Now, he struggles daily with his many health issues. He battles with the VA for benefits he is entitled to and cannot get. He shakes uncontrollably as he watches his family members take away all of his "belongings" and load them into the back of a truck to be discarded in the county dump. He panics at the thought of one bag of empty paper rolls being thrown away. When I started researching Compulsive Hoarding I was only looking for a way to help deal with him. The research I have read is mostly vague. Some articles though are treating this as the serious issue it is. Research is finding that this is different from other OCD's. It's different because most often there is a physiological occurrence that triggers this behaviour. My thoughts went to...oh I don't know, lying on an operating table for 3 minutes with no oxygen going to his brain ...? No, I am not blaming the doctors for what is going on with my Dad. It was an unfortunate accident 11 years ago. No one could have known he would be allergic to the anesthesia. Could they? No, probably not. However, the heart condition, mixed with the surgery could well be the trigger for this extreme behaviour. This behaviour of which he has no control. He's seems perfectly normal until you see where he lives, how he lives. How he subjects my Mom and his other family members to these conditions.

When I went back to NC this past summer I spent 6 solid days doing nothing but packing up most of his belongings that we could salvage. I know, what I shared with you was the end of a long week with me and my family yucking it up on the trampoline. What we were really doing was salvaging my Dad's life. His past, his history, his attachments. The rest had to be thrown away. Imagine, if you can, four 12 x 12 rooms packed from the ceiling to the floor, front to back full of garbage. Then imagine 4 more rooms packed the same way with salvageable things. That is what I did with my three sisters and my Mom-for a week this summer. I haven't even scratched the surface yet of how bad it really was. Now, here I am 3 months later not knowing what to do. There isn't a single day that has gone by, since then, that I don't worry over my Dad. There isn't a single day that has gone by that I don't try to come up with a way to help my Dad. My sisters, my brother, my Mom. No one has stepped up to do anything. They are all afraid. Afraid of his reaction. Afraid that if they intervene he might do something horrible and unthinkable. We are all being held hostage right now by my Father's illness and what might happen if we try to force him to get help. He holds everyone hostage with his temper tantrums.

So here I sit, pounding away at this key board while trying to figure out how to help my dad and I don't know what to do or how to go about doing it. He'll never go voluntarily. Never. How can I help him knowing that if I do- it will probably be the last time he ever speaks to me. Ever.
It is time for me to quit lurking and do something.

I Have Been Cheating

Yes. I have been cheating and I am sorry.

I have been cheating on my posts. Craziness is exactly what it has been here for a while now. My J.O.B. is taking more time along with all of the social events, Tri's, etc going on - craziness. So, I have been shortchanging all of you on my posts. Sorry, but posting with lots of photos has been a quick way to let you all in on the goings ons around here. Cheating. I know. Sorry.

In addition, because of my short amount of time, I have been skimping on the comment love. I am still reading everyone's posts but I find myself clicking on the next because I am always so pressed for time. I am still stopping in to see everyone as I always have but have been skipping the comment love. Cheating. I know. Once again, I am sorry. Truly. Bear with me through my busy season and I'll be back in full swing.

This is a sample of what I do for a living. This home was a newly built home. The clients moved here from Chicago. They had no furniture at all for their home. So, I came in and created this -

This is a "during" shot. This client ordered the sofa and decided she loved the Tiger pattern so much, she wanted more. So, I painted the pattern onto the face of her kitchen bar.

And in her art "niche"

For those of you who have asked -There is a tiny peek into what I do for a living. I do it all. Custom furnishings, draperies, bedding, carpets, floors, faux finishes, you name it. Right now I am about to install a beautiful copper ceiling in a home that is being built. It will be so stunning. Stunning.

Right now, in my world, everyone loves me. They don't love me because I am charming and beautiful. Well...maybe that's it....yeah, it probably is, but in reality, they love me because I make their homes beautiful. Just in time for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Right. ( I am laughing very hard out loud right now)

If it was to be done before the Holidays, they should have started in July. Swear. Custom upholstery, drapes, bedding, it all takes time. These days, more time than before. You see, in the effort to meet Americans' desire for nice look for little price, everyone has gone overseas for their product. So, those fabrics that used to be milled in North and South Carolina no longer exist. The mills are all closed down and the fabrics are now coming from China. This means, lots and lots of wait time if the fabric isn't in stock. Well, no one ever picks a fabric that is in stock. Trust me. So, custom is defined as: Wait. Period. Please. Don't shoot the messenger.

Okay, enough of my bitch session. With all of that said, I am still insanely busy. I like it that way. My days are not so easy and they are very long more often than not. But, I really do like it this way. So, please forgive me if i cheat a little for a bit on my posts. Please?

We partied at the Bigun house this past weekend. It really was a fun filled evening. I felt like the Bride again. The house was full and I barely got to spend time with anyone person for more than 5 minutes at a time. ExcelMan and Green Eyed Lady joined in the festivities along with 20 other people. My life is so full of beautiful people. I truly have wonderful friends. TriFeist came over for a bit. It was so much fun to meet her. I feel guilty that I didn't spend more time learning about her. I have no doubt we'll see her again. Her Hubby was working so she was flying solo. I smell a dinner coming on...

In addition to work and regular home things I have been working on various projects in my home too. My walls have been painted and repainted more than once in more than one room. The Guest suite is almost done. I have to finish putting the bed together. I had the bed frame in there but now have a beautiful carved black poster head board and foot board to add. The delivery guys forgot to leave the rails, so the bed is not put up yet.

Finally finished painting the hall bath - it is metallic gold. LOVE it. It looks fabulous with the red curtains in there. In addition to that I redid our bedroom too. Bigun recovered the headboard a while ago and i finally put the new bedding on the bed. It's red, mingled with gold and bronze. The bedding. It looks so gorgeous with the red sofa in there. Stunning. I still have to finish the venetian plaster in there and the painting. It'll happen, just don't know when. I am also building some built-in bookcases in the office. The painting is done and the desk and credenza are in but the book cases are only about 1/3 of the way finished. I'll finish them in between putting the final layer of glaze on my Dining room walls. Are you seeing a trend here yet? Many projects, little time and millions of ideas... that's me. Oh. I work too. Cook often. Take care of the dogs, try to keep up with the house ( not always successfully either), work in laundry every now and then as well. Thank the Lord I don't have children too. I would be three stories up at the asylum. How you women with kids do it, I'll never know. My hat is off to you all.

Oh. I almost forgot. I read too. I read a lot. It's my get away. My sanctuary. Books. I love them. I love the way the ink smells on the pages when you crack that book for the first time. If I fall asleep with ink smudged fingers at night, I feel good. I just finished a couple of books. One in particular,

"In an Instant" . Bob and Lee Woodruff.

Editorial Reviews
Book Description

In one of the most anticipated books of the year, Lee Woodruff, along with her husband, Bob Woodruff, share their never-before-told story of romance, resilience, and survival following the tragedy that transformed their lives and gripped a nation.

In January 2006, the Woodruffs seemed to have it all–a happy marriage and four beautiful children. Lee was a public relations executive and Bob had just been named co-anchor of ABC’s World News Tonight. Then, while Bob was embedded with the military in Iraq, an improvised explosive device went off near the tank he was riding in. He and his cameraman, Doug Vogt, were hit, and Bob suffered a traumatic brain injury that nearly killed him.In an Instant is the frank and compelling account of how Bob and Lee’s lives came together, were blown apart, and then were miraculously put together again–and how they persevered, with grit but also with humor, through intense trauma and fear.

Here are Lee’s heartfelt memories of their courtship, their travels as Bob left a law practice behind and pursued his news career and Lee her freelance business, the glorious births of her children and the challenges of motherhood.Bob in turn recalls the moment he caught the journalism “bug” while covering Tiananmen Square for CBS News, his love of overseas assignments and his guilt about long separations from his family, and his pride at attaining the brass ring of television news–being chosen to fill the seat of the late Peter Jennings.

And, for the first time, the Woodruffs reveal the agonizing details of Bob’s terrible injuries and his remarkable recovery. We learn that Bob’s return home was not an end to the journey but the first step into a future they have learned not to fear but to be grateful for.In an Instant is much more than the dual memoir of love and courage. It is an important, wise, and inspiring guide to coping with tragedy–and an extraordinary drama of marriage, family, war, and nation.A percentage of the proceeds from this book will be donated to the Bob Woodruff Family Fund for Traumatic Brain Injury.

Please read this book. It brings to light a serious issue facing our nation, it's soldiers, it's families. People may not agree on the war in Iraq and they may not agree with why we are there or the policies of our leaders. It doesn't matter. Our men and women are still there. Support them. Supporting our soldiers is what matters. Freedom isn't free and the men and women who are there, in Iraq, they know this. Does your personal freedom depend on the war in Iraq? I don't know. I won't presume to guess either. What I do know is that a tyrant who murdered his people and tortured many more is now gone. Our men and women are there to help the ones left behind in the debris.They are there to help them put their lives back together. To gain their freedom. The daily struggles they face, both our soldiers and Iraq's citizens, will be a long and hard road.

I did not want to turn this into a "heavy" post, but I am compelled to say this-

Our men and women who are returning home with missing limbs, post traumatic stress disorders, brain injuries, and more, they need our help. They need OUR help. What can you do?

Sgt. Gonzalez from Alpha Company of 1/38 Infantry Regiment patrols Baqubah, Iraq, on Oct. 3.
ALEXANDER NEMENOV / AFP VIA GETTY IMAGES

Smiley

Don't wait until next summer to go see someone if you can go now. Don't wait until after "your busy season" to travel to spend time with someone you love. Don't think that you have all of the time in the world. Don't believe that in spite of their ill health they'll be there when you can finally "swing it". Don't wait to go hold the hand of a person who holds a special place in your heart. It just might be too late if you wait any longer.
I know.
In a few days we'll be burying my Aunt Edna aka Smiley. I haven't seen her in years. I thought I had more time. I didn't see her before she died. I didn't remind her of just how much she truly meant to me. Don't make the same mistake I did.
Go now.
EDIT: I posted this at about 9 pm last night (Tuesday July 31st). I received a call from my family at about 3 pm yesterday telling me that my Aunt Edna would "be gone in moments". This according to her doctors. As far as I knew, I was trying to find a way to get to New York for my Aunt's funeral. This morning at about 10 am my sister called to tell me that the moments turned into hours and now the hours have turned into more than 24. I just spoke to my cousin who is at the hospital with her mom (my aunt). I could hear my aunt's voice in the background. She hasn't left us yet.
Unfortunately, we don't know how much time there is. Now, I don't know about you, but I think God has given me one more chance to tell her that I love her. I asked my cousin to tell her for me just in case I don't get there in time. I called my Uncle Tom, Aunt Edna's hubby, at home. He is there setting everything up for Hospice to come in and help with the final days. Yes, I said days. My Uncle Tom still has faith. He doesn't want her in the Hospital where they have given up on her. I can't say that I blame him. I don't know what the next few days will have in store for us but I do know that I need to go now. My original message stands true. Don't wait. Don't regret anything. You never know. My Aunt Edna is young. Too young to be dying. Remember, don't see if you can "swing it" just go, before it's too late.
Thank you all so much for all of your thoughts and prayers. Someone was listening. Thank you, all of you.
Diana