"A day in your life?"

Ok, well, how do I start out here? My dad was 22 when I was born. I was the only child for four years, so I pretty much had my daddy to myself. I remember rolling on the floor with him, and using him as a pillow. I looked like my dad, so I felt a great bond with him. He was always laughing, and he was always joking that because he was left handed, he was the only one in his right mind. We used to go to the drive-in theater, with me dressed in my pajamas. I would pretend to be asleep so he would carry me to bed afterward. He was the thing I loved the most. My brother was born when I was four, my sister when I was eight. My parents divorced when I was fifteen, and my father never remarried. My brother left this world nine years ago, my sister is a single mom of four, and I am almost forty, my dad is now 62.

Dad had a stroke thirty five days ago. Cousin Rick was with him, and got him in an ambulance, and to the hospital where he had a second, more severe, stroke. I drove to Missouri to be with him, and for six days, I never left his side. The nurses and the doctors told us how lucky we were to still have him, and that is was a true miracle that he had survived. My left handed father is now paralyzed on his left side. He lost the use of his left side in the space of one hour, and they tell me he will never get it back. He has no left side recognition. If you ask him to move his left hand, he gets confused and tries to pick it up with his right. He has trouble swallowing and can not feel the left side of his mouth. This leads to aspiration of his foods and liquids, and a danger of pneumonia. His beautiful smile is gone, his voice weak. The doctors say the window for improvement has closed. He will be forever confined to a wheelchair. He remembers everything, but forgets to answer questions. He is still my Daddy, but he is not the same. He has lost so much more than the use of his body. He has lost his independence, his way of life and his laughter.

I was informed yesterday that Dad will never be able to be by himself again. For over a month, I was planning to take care of him. I knew it was going to be hard. I was prepared for it to be hard. I felt that as the oldest child, and the only one really able, it was supposed to be me. No, the situation was not ideal, but he is my Daddy. Yesterday, the team of doctors, therapists, social workers and administrators told me that that is not possible. He will require more help than I am able to give. More care than I can offer, more time than I can afford. I, as the oldest child have to make the excruciating decision to put my father in a nursing home.

Now down to the toughest things I have to face. He lives two states away, but wants to be near me. I will have to pull him away from the friends and family he has left, not that there are that many, but he has lived there all of his life, and I will be taking that away. He is destitute. Years of alcohol abuse has not only depleted his body of all of its natural defenses, it took his job, and all of his savings. He was on his last unemployment appeal when he had his stroke. His social security will start next month, but it is not nearly enough to cover the cost of the kind of care he will need. My husband and I are not in a position to help him, and I think you can figure out that my sister is not either. It will all fall to Medicaid, if he is eligible.

I do not know what to do. I feel as if my hands have been tied behind my back, and someone is stealing away my hope. I am at an all time low, and I know that my dad is. The doctors have put him on anti depressants, and since there is no hope of improvement, they are stopping his therapy, and telling me I must keep his hopes up so he doesn't give up on living. Thirty five days of immobility have already started to draw up his muscles, and tighten his fingers into claws. Yesterday as the experts doled out his "prognosis", I felt as if they were issuing his death sentence. I have no one to talk to about any of this. I just want to scream at someone.

My sister and I are fat (to say the least). She wants me to be supportive to her and go on a diet with her. Ok, fine in theory, but I hate to diet. I am not good at self control (as is obvious by my current size) and I do not like to be told what to do, and certainly not told what to eat. Food makes me happy. Yeah, I know it is a temporary happiness, but there are some days when knowing that I get to eat mashed potato for supper is the only thing that will make me smile. I am tired of being the biggest person in the room. I have made myself used to this, but I hate it.

I know I should eat better, I know I should lay off the potatoes and cheese and red meat. Somehow I can not see that a half of a cup of pinto beans is an awesome substitute for my mashed potato! I HATE PINTO BEANS! My sister just told me that she had an AWESOME (her word) lunch, consisting of a whole wheat wrap with lettuce, cucumber, and ground turkey with a splash of balsamic vinegar. OK. I couldn't eat the wrap. Couldn't do it, not even if I was paid to. She also said she had a very filling breakfast of a half a cup of coffee and a whole wheat waffle with a tbsp of peanut butter. NOPE! Kill me now.

Please tell me how I can do a diet with her that absolutely nothing sounds good on? How can I help her when all I want to do is cry in frustration and anger? How can I be positive when I feel so negative? I do not eat donuts or bags of chips. I do not eat bags of french fries or buckets of fried chicken. I am sensible with my desserts, and rarely eat sugary snacks. I love salads and grilled fish, baked chicken and veggies. I do these things already! Apparently I eat too much, and menu plans call for me to eat less than a half a cup of the things I like, and to fill up on things I hate. I can't do it.

My sister wants me to be "Sure pinto beans are awesome on dry wheat toast. You can have two servings! YUM!" And in reality I am struggling not to scream at her. GOOD FOR YOU! No matter how much sugar you sprinkle on poo, it is still poo.

First the livingroom. Then the bathroom, then the kitchen.

To all my friends of faith... Funny story today. My good buddy Kim threw some Papa Murphy's coupons in my locker at work. They were good for one free one topping pizza. (for a grand opening) I found three, and my husband and I each used one to get a pizza for dinner tonight. A couple of people from work also showed up to wait in a forever line. One of my co-workers was in line, her face so happy and glowing. She was testifying to anyone who would listen about the miracle that had happened to her tonight. She was completely out of money and had no food in the house for dinner, and had evidently prayed for help. She opened her locker, and there on top of her purse was a Papa Murphy's coupon for a free pizza. She was so happy that she would not have to go hungry for dinner, and was telling everyone about her miracle. The great thing is, Kim had put several coupons in my locker, and this particular coworker's locker is one below mine. Apparently a coupon slid down the back of my locker into hers. A lovely accident to me, but a tiny miracle for her. God does work in mysterious ways. Even if it is just a promotional pizza. She brought joy to the line of people waiting for their food, and made me smile on a day I didn't have much to rejoice about.

I just feel so lost. I guess it is this extremely long winter. I want to sleep all the time and I do at every opportunity. I am gaining weight and becoming more unhappy in every part of my life. Sad.

Ok, so tonight I am having a theme dinner. My house is decked out in twilight colors, and my porch is wrapped in white lights. My front door has a painted sign that says Bella Italia, and the menu board in the kitchen has the nights menu printed out. Our daily special at Bella Italia is as follows...

Insalata Spinaci (spinach salad) Zuppa di Giorno (Tomato dill soup with crusty italian bread) and last but not least... Wild Mushroom Ravioli! On the wine list for the evening, two lovely bottles of Vampire wine! My table is set with red chargers, red candles and lots of apple themed items, as well as New moon sweetarts and vampire teeth chocolates. My walls are adorned with pictures of the cast, and my bathroom (as is everyday) is Twilight, Twilight Twilight! Bella and Edward sit on the bench in my bathroom (at least their alter egos the lion and the lamb do... and I have lovely quotes printed out in various areas of the house. After dinner we are going to play Twilight Scene It/ watch Twilight movie, dress up and go see New Moon at midnight! I purchased 9 tickets over a month ago, so we would be sure to have enough! I slept less than 5 hours last night because of the excitement (well that and sore ribs, bronchitis and possibly histoplasmosis) FUN!

Ok, so that is what I was told over the phone today. Not cancer, but calcified granuloma. That was the only explanation given, not the cause, not the treatment. I have to go back in three months for another CT scan and then we will know more. A friend who is a nurse says I probably have histoplasmosis. It is really common in the ohio river valley where we live and is cause by a fungus found in bird poo. (airborne bird poo, in case we don't have enough to worry about, now I got to worry about inhaling bird poo!) Anyway, histoplasmosis could actually be the reason I feel sick all of the time, tired, and flu-y. Well, there is a reason, and I guess I went without knowing this for a long time, three more months won't kill me (at least I don't think it can! LOL!)

It seems that lately all I do is complain. I have had sick kids, friends pass away, money issues, you name it. Well I got sick last Sunday at work, and I put off going to the doctor. I finally went on Thursday and I was diagnosed with asthmatic bronchitis. O.K. I can deal. That night I was in bed and had a coughing fit so hard that I felt something give in my side. Three hours and an emergency room trip later, I have been told I have a fractured rib. LOTS of pain I tell you, the worst I have ever had. So anyway, bronchitis makes me cough, cough makes ribs hurt, rib hurt makes me cry and gasp for air, which in turn makes me cough. Circle complete. I go home and take massive dosages of really strong pain pills. Friday morning, get phone call from hospital. They sent my chest x-rays to a radiologist for a closer look, an they call me back and tell me there is a suspicious spot on my lung that looks like (a.) a calcified bit of nothing or (b.) a cancerous tumor (no I am not kidding that is what they said to me over the phone). Then I was told I needed to follow up with my family doctor immediately. Now, I am a crying gasping coughing mess. I call my doctor, and I am hysterical. They call me back. "Yes Shannon, there is a suspicious spot on your lung. We have you scheduled for a CT scan at 1:15 on Monday. Dr. Davis says not to get too worked up, it could be nothing more than pneumonia." O.K. So I only have to freak out about it for three days, and maybe two extra days for consult and results.

The kicker is, my mom, is a worrier. She freaked out when she heard I cracked a rib. She lost a mom to cancer and already lost a child to a DD accident and so I have made the decision not to tell her. No use giving my family a heart attack when it could be nothing right? I did call my mom's sister, My dear Aunt Angie. She is my level headed auntie. She is the one that will pick up a bleeding broken child and say "O.K., didn't Aunt Angie say NOT to jump off the porch railing? Well, O.K. then you broke the rules, lets get you cleaned up so you can get your punishment and NOT ruin my furniture." (yes true story, not me but a cousin). As I had hoped she told me to stop crying, and stop freaking out. She agreed not to tell my mom, sister or my dad, but she immediately put me on the churches prayer list (she lives in a different state). So anyway, right now I am rambling because I am high on pain pills. I guess I just need to rant because I can't tell the two people I always go to with my problems. My mom and my sister. My husband told his father and mother, (his father had a 1/4 of his lung removed due to lung cancer) and so I got a phone call from my father in law explaining what they were going to do to me if it is indeed a tumor. JOY! more worry.

So, I guess I am just asking that those of you who believe in a higher power to ask for healing on my behalf. Thanks in advance for healing thoughts and prayers.

My friend from work, Toya, was driving with her father yesterday and they were hit by a man test driving a car, doing over 100 miles an hour. She and her father were killed. Toya was a single mother with two children and one grandchild. She was a beautiful person both inside and out, and I will miss her.