2017 you suck

2017
2017
2017
     Just looking at it doesn't exactly make me smile.
One always has to take the bad with the good and I've always tried my best to look on the brighter side. Looking back on the year I see such a year of heartache and pain. Yet, when I put it in prospective it really isn't bad at all. It is just life.
     In the fall of 2016 I started working out and was registered to run the Disney Princess Half. It was something I was getting to do with Taylor and while I never have liked running I was going to do this one thing that looked so rewarding for her the year before. She gave me love and encouragement and a bracelet that was meant to inspire. I wore it every single day without fail.
     Time came and the Princess was upon us. We had our family and her in laws. Her friends and thousands cheering us on. I've never seen so many people yelling and waving flags spurring us on as we ran/walked.
     It was just as Taylor had described it. One comes around the corner and all of a sudden, main street lined wall to wall with people with the castle ahead. I know of no one that can run and cry but I was trying. We ran through the castle and I ran into Mark's arms just squalling like a baby. I was only half way and my knee was screaming to stop.
      I had already spent $500 on physical therapy on my SI joint and wasn't expecting to have a knee not work as it should. Off I went putting my husband and the Whitsons in my rear view. I knew I would see them at the finish line.
      Little did I know the last half was excruciatingly painful on my knee and my psyche. I stopped one last time at mile 10 and threw some biofreeze on it and back off I went. To my disappointment I was about 15 people behind the cut off and was not allowed to go any further! I couldn't believe it!!! TEN MILES for what?? A bus ride to the finish line that's what. All the women on the bus were chatty Cathys and I was crying for I had failed. I had not made it. The poor fella handing out the medals when we got off the bus must have thought I was missing a screw or two. He handed me my medal and I told him I wasn't a democrat and didn't deserve a participation trophy! LOL Bless him. I spent about three hours crying off and on and then picked myself up, dusted myself off and spent the rest of our time enjoying Disney.
     Last year those of us in the radiology were told we were going to have to get our certification if we were going to do CT. I was thrown into CT and have never had any intention on doing it for a living. Mind you, everyone has their niche'. Mine, I would like to think, is radiology. Radiology PERIOD...not specialty. I have worked at Children's Hospital for many years. I have worked in the Cath Lab, the MAC unit, team leader at an outpatient facility and run more than my fair share of fluoro rooms. I've never given it a thought that I would "specialize" in any one area. I've always enjoyed being "just" a rad tech.
     I was taught at a young age that it takes the entire group to make the machine that is a hospital run. Everyone has a place and a job and if one doesn't get done it starts to breakdown. Imagine if someone didn't clean the bathrooms? What if no one did the laundry or work on the dock? It takes us all. So, at 53 years old and 31 years since a test was laid in front of me. The last time I took a major test there were no such things as PCs. It took 6-8 weeks to get results of your tests. I hadn't ever learned to study and I sure wasn't learning now. I did what I could and sat for the test. I had no expectations and knew it probably was going to be ugly. It wasn't as bad as I thought but I still failed.
     Back to the drawing board. Study and retake. This time I was ok. I had studied what I didn't know on the first test and was ready. I had my good luck charm with me too. Taylor and Casey were in town and they took me to the testing center. I walked out in tears...FAILED. I've yet to go back and take it again even though I have one more try.
     Summer went by without a hitch or at least not a considerable hitch. I spent the summer taking my baby girl with me everywhere I went. The love of a dog knows no boundaries and my love for her was immeasurable. I had never had a dog before and I will definitely have another Pomeranian again. Just not soon. I watched as she declined and I questioned myself over and over wondering if it was time and praying that God would give me a sign and the peace. One day that sign came.
     It was time. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done and to watch my family's hearts breaking too it was more than I thought I could handle. None of us could breathe. None of us could speak without crying. Sure, we had Naila but nothing could fill the spot that was Lexi's. Just typing this brings a flood of tears that I thought were dried. I miss her daily. I miss her smell (even if it was her bad breath! LOL).
     The weight has continued to climb this year. I've gained six pounds and these six are the ones setting me over the edge. It has been hard with so many downs not to eat when I have always been an emotional eater. I've taken a few steps in the last few days to start recognizing the triggers and to get back on the train. I don't want the train derailed. I've worked too hard. Going to try and get these last 30# off.
     It wasn't two months after Lexi's death that my mom and dad had decided it was time for them to go to assisted living. Anyone who has had the pleasure of having their parents for any length of time knows it is a double edged sword. Every day one has them is a gift. Every day one has them is another day to watch them age. My once talkative father now hardly speaks as he can't get his thoughts from his brain and out his mouth.
     Mom is weak, frail and in pain most of the time. Her disease is eating away at her little at a time. She always says to me "I hate you have to take care of me". I remind her I don't "have" to but I count it all joy. She raised us in a care giving home and patterned for us how to take care of parents as they age. There wasn't a time she wasn't there for any of my grandparents. My daddy has always been a care giver, and mom a nurse. I'm pretty sure my sibs and I haven't a choice against our genetic code and upbringing.
     A few months ago a preacher came to our church and preached on saying "OH WELL". This has always been my motto and I think I just needed reminded that I was starting to take life a little too seriously and letting too much get in front of me to trip me up. So to 2017 I say "OH WELL!"
     I will be going back to Orlando in February but not for a run. I will be attending my UK daughter's wedding. She will be living in America full time and am so excited for her. Her dreams are coming true.
      The best news of 2017 is my daughter and son in law are now 2.5 hours closer to us and are pregnant with our first grandchild! 2018 Is going to rock! I'm going to be a Mammie. Everyone reminds me it is so amazing and indescribable. I already know I will spoil this baby as much as is humanly possible.
       When I look into the future and the birth of this baby I see my hubby crying more than my own daughter. LOL He has never had the joy of a brand new baby and many of us know how emotional this can be, not to mention he cries if the wind blows. I look forward to holding my daughter's hand, wiping her tears and encouraging her along the way. I am anticipating the look on my son in law's face when they put that sweet baby in his arms and watching him melt.
            Hunter is set to graduate in May and I can't see my life without a student in it.  It is another step in the thing we call life but it looks so foreign. I don't know what else 2018 will have for me but "oh well" comes to mind.
     There will be wedding, births, deaths and job woes. As long as we have one another we can all walk through it carrying one another when we can't carry ourselves. I have my bff, my husband, my kids and my work family. Somewhere in that bunch someone will need me or I them. As a care giver, I will be right there. As a friend, I will be right there. As an employee, I'll be right there.




   

Not all friends are human

I found this draft when I went to blog about my crazy year and the life that is bariatric living. It was typed in August and looks like I never finished. It still stirs up all the emotions that remain just under the surface. I'm going to go ahead and publish just as it is....unfinished.   

  One week ago today I had to make one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make. I have cried so many tears that I wonder how I'm not dehydrated. There wasn't an hour on Monday that wasn't filled with tears. From the time I realized the inevitable to the time I finally fell asleep, tears stayed on the corners of my eyes. Tuesday I had to excuse myself several times from work to run outside. Wednesday was just more of the same. I have had so many sweet friends offer condolences and prayers. Many have walked this path and know how hard this is to travel.
    I had known for over a year the time was coming. My girl would get sick and better all within a matter of days. Five years ago she began showing signs of collapsing trachea. This is a common Pomeranian trait and we decided we lived with a goose. She would wake us in the middle of the night sounding as if a flock of Canadas were coming in for a landing. Before long she seemed tired and miserable. We started her on prednisone and things started looking up. She was still playing ball and enjoying running and playing with Naila.
    Given the risks the predisone it was worth it for her to be able to breathe and rest. Every time I weaned her within two weeks she was honking again and would have to return to her meds. Three months later we were noticing her expressions were different. She always spoke with her eyes. She was always attentive and cocked her head just so as you knew she understood every word you spoke to her. It was different now. It was like she looked past you. It was then I noticed she was having difficulty seeing. She was starting to leave puddles in the floor at night. She was wetting the bed and was not acting like my good dog that I had had for ten years.
    It was at this time we took her to the vet. She was diagnosed as diabetic and was developing cataracts. I've always enjoyed sticking people for blood because I saw it as a challenge that I could conquer. This was a whole different experience. Sticking an animal to take their blood sugar takes two people and lots of patience. From that day forward she had two shots a day minimum til the day she died.
     As time went on the cataracts were worse and I became her eyes. She was still a playful little girl and was enjoying life. She was still playing with her ball on the steps when she could find it and was still able to use her doggie steps onto the bed. She still enjoyed travelling and always smelled the vents as she knew she was getting to go see her granddaddy. She had him wrapped around her little furry paw. It didn't take much to love her. She was beautiful and smart. She knew how to con.
    The last two years she progressively worsened and we knew our time with her was limited. I had the hardest time leaving her to go on vacation. I knew she was in good hands with my parents and she loved being there but this mama couldn't relax totally without her by my side. She was my sidekick and I was her lifeline.
     Every move I made she made with me. If I went upstairs she did too. If I was in the kitchen so was she. And the recliner was NEVER a seat for one. It was a seat for three, two of those being furry.
     She stopped being able to walk up the stairs and it became evident she wasn't able to sleep on the edge of the bed any longer. She commandeered a new spot. It was the coziest, most comforting spot in the bed, right between mom and dad! Isn't that where most babies like to sleep?