Today is my sweet husband's 34th birthday--I love birthdays, age makes no difference.
This Friday has been one of joy, sadness and exhaustion. I'm finding myself dedicating specific emotions towards the appropriate situations. Brains are pretty miraculous to juggle it all and keep you functioning.
With my dad still being very sick from his surgery, I accompanied my mom at the closing of their new home this morning. My dad has really been looking forward to their new house. He's been monitoring the building process and it's been nice for him to have something to look forward to other than occupational therapy. It was sad for him to miss signing the bazillion pieces of paper. My dad doesn't miss things, he just doesn't and never has. Oh you worked today so you're too tired to do something? That's not my dad's M.O. he's never been too tired, too hurt, too anything to not just be there for it all. Of course, this was an understandable absence.
While waiting for the closing my mom received a call that my Granny's urn had arrived from Africa. It's surreal. How many people wait for someone's flight who have passed? It's been a first for us. My mom is running on autopilot right now. I'm talking do not get in her way; there's not the slightest jokinginess in my tone. A lot of you probably don't know that she spent day and night for three weeks at the hospital with my dad. Day and night, folks. My family has most definitely been spoiled by my mom's dedication. Miranda Priestly has nothing on Tammy Mass.
About two weeks into the three week stay she received the phone call that her mother, my granny, had passed away overnight. Oh, I'm sorry, I thought we had been through enough? If this were a wrestling match I tapped out a long time ago. My granny lived in Africa the past 26+ years. I would tell you what all she's done but eBlogger might cut me off. She was in the process of moving back to the United States and was a very lively, well travelled person with a lot to say and was the perfect example of a helper bee. After my dad's emergency my mom and granny had been talking daily, my mom found it peculiar when she didn't hear from her on Friday, December 27th. I didn't and may not fully process her passing. My mom called me that morning and said, "Is Jon with you? I'd like to talk to him." This was odd, but she wanted to make sure I wasn't alone when she told me. I think at this point I had poured all emotions into my dad's traumatic experience and didn't have much left to give. I was more upset thinking about my mom. Fist in gut moment. In one aspect we're so very grateful for my dad and then you're hit with another downer.
The next few days and weeks didn't give us much time for grieving. My mom had to correspond with the US Embassy, "friends" and attorneys of my Granny's in Africa and more. These were all people we'd never met, spoken to or known. With Africa being so corrupt the communication with these strangers brought a lot of doubt and questionable motives. My mom is, without a doubt, the most admirable person. If I even get an ounce of her determination in life I'll be set. When I said do not get in her way, this wasn't a local demand---this means you too, Africa.
So here we are. Jon's birthday, closing on a home, Granny's return to the US and dad's journey of recovery. Each has it's own good, but the situations themselves aren't all good.
We continue to be very appreciative of the constant support from close friends. One of Jon's words he teaches his 6th graders is "initiative." I can't thank everyone enough for taking initiative with your support.
Here's a video if you're interested...it has a happy ending if that helps. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9LR90A4D7Q
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Monday, January 13, 2014
Space Renovation (Part I)
Back in June House Beautiful came out with an issue with a jewel tone blue room on the cover---I fell in complete design love. Seven months later I am finally getting around to starting my inspired project.
Months ago my dad designed the built-in-bookcase for me. I'm talking full dimensions of everything and a hefty supply list. He's basically my go-to genius for all things home, especially when it has to do with numbers. For Christmas my sweet Jon got me sample blue paints--he knew once I had these in my hands I'd be unstoppable. He was right. I'm just having to convince my brain to slow its roll. I'm so impatient, even when I know something can't be done in 5 minutes. And there is what we call admitting our own faults.
With my dad's condition he unfortunately can't be my awesome, free labor, so we're using the same consultant we used for our shower re-do. This is quirky but one of the things I'm enjoying about being a homeowner is gathering a handful of go-to people (ex. heat and air, plumbing, etc.). The guy we use, who I'm hesitant to name because I don't want everyone taking up time I need him (selfish, I know), is basically the bomb.com---said it don't regret it.
The downside of all this is my dad and I would go hang out at home supply/building stores researching products, for now I'm a solo shopper. I don't mind, but I have to be told in elementary terms what does what. I know what I need, but don't you dare try and throw another option at me using different numbers---I've worked really hard to understand this very strategic design.
Besides all that, here's the progress we've made: The ceiling + walls have been painted. Don't even think "that's it?" Our ceiling reaches about 20ish feet. I immediately regretted painting on my own. Thankfully I recruited my 6'5" husband to handle most of the task. Also, don't judge the photo below---it isn't the most current & the blue dries darker than the image shows. The floor, lighting and dresser will all be removed, FYI.
Between an 8' ladder, a step ladder, a 12' extension pole, rollers, brushes, edgers, and arm muscles we managed to successfully paint the space.
I'll see you back here when we hit our next big step---the bookcase.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
2013 Reflection
What a year! There's been a lot of happiness, joy, devastation, sadness, and all that's in between.
Engagement, wedding, honeymoon, failed trip to Florida, dad's emergency surgery and my Granny passing away. And of course all the petty stuff to really add the cherry on top.
We began the year with our engagement and I really had only planned on the year being solely about our wedding and new marriage---my were we in for an emotional treat! I'm the first to admit that I'm not the best at unplanned situations. For as creative as my brain is, I run 95% on organization and a set agenda.
Where am I going with this? I think I'm trying to explain how unstructured my year has felt. Yep, that's it.
In our world of medicine, it really is complicated to wrap my head around. When the surgeon explained my dad's aortic tear post-surgery in a drawing on his white board all I could really think was that it looked like a piece of abstract art. I couldn't repeat the terms enough times in my head to remember what all he was saying (to Google later, of course.) I only remembered "False Lumen" by relating it to lemon...which, by the way, have nothing to do with one another.
My go-to method for coping is documentation. Sounds weird, but it's my thing. I guess I have a fear of forgetting. My dad taught me to document. I assume this is where my love for photography came from. Not just the good times, all of them. I knew my dad would want to know about what had happened while he was paralyzed and sedated so what other choice did I have but to, say it with me: DOC-U-MENT. Boy was I right. He told McClain (a family friend) that he wished someone had videoed his surgery so he could see what they did. Well, I didn't video a lot, but I did take pictures. Don't start thinking I'm creepy...or do, it really is no matter.
Really the images are a great reminder of the amount of progress made in the last 3.5 weeks. People, I'm talking serious progress---like baby's first steps kind of thing.
I remember the moment at Target when it actually hit me that "this is the moment, my dad is dying". I told Jon I didn't have anything to say. You see in movies or hear stories about people who regret not saying things or wish someone knew how much they loved them. All I could think was he isn't doubting how much I love him and I didn't need to hear it either. He stayed alert during it all---rare. While I was on the phone with 9-1-1 he kept repeating "CASHIER 17, CASHIER 17" to tell EMSA where to find us. During my panicked phone call to Jon my dad was telling me, "I'm okay, Ape." (While lying on the Target floor) Far from the truth, but it was good to hear.
The next 48 hours were critical and we were mainly in hopeful devastation, if that makes any sense? The doctors and surgeons were very clear about the severity and mortality rate of this. For a moment I thought about asking the doctor if I could offer some illegal bribe to ensure he really focus and get the job done. Every person's situation is personal to him or her; with them seeing emergencies all the time I was afraid they would generalize my dad's life with others they had seen. We learned about the drastic measures taken during his surgery. They did what they call "The Big Chill", where they drained all of his blood and decreased his body temperature to 18 degrees. They have 45 minutes to work under these conditions and then have to get the body going again. I'm assuming unless you're a doctor in the room during this, it's really hard to comprehend. Obviously I understand the concept, but it still gives an eery essence. Needless to say, Dr. Garrett restored my faith in his line of work.
3 weeks later and dad is at home. He's not 100%---I'd say probably 65% for now. Give or take. He's still very fragile and the easiest tasks are exhausting---eating, walking, using the restroom, showering, etc. He's bored. Even with the exhaustion he wants to get out and do something, ANYTHING. Therapists are becoming his BFFs, when they can keep up.
Most of you know I have a very small family and I know we are forever grateful for the kindness and thoughtfulness from our friends who we consider to be part of our extended family. It's hard to lean on others when I really only lean on three people: My mom, dad & Jon. I am appreciative of my best friend Megan, her husband and sister who brought us dinner while my dad was still undergoing surgery. I know these situations are handled with care, nobody really knows what to say or do and nobody wants to seem overbearing or in your face--when really, it's not such a bad thing to be asked questions and talk about what's going on. I am grateful for Anna, one of my mom's best friends, for sitting with us while my dad was in surgery and adding a pleasant demeanor to complete turmoil. Father Bright was the perfect distraction that we needed. He had a way of telling humorous stories that got us off track for a second and of course had comforting words at the most needed times. Carole popping in to see us, Hayley stopping by the hospital to have a coffee with me, Susan & Kent bringing "Heart Healthy" snacks, Ray visiting and having a long chat with dad, the parishioners at All Souls' Episcopal Church and all of the compassion shown was a relief from the situation. The phone calls, cards, visits, flowers, meals, gifts and all that everyone has done will not be forgotten.
We've been on a bit of a rocky road and are starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I know a lot of you are curious about his progress and I plan to keep you updated. In the meantime the lyrics "started from the bottom, now we here" come to mind when I look at these pictures...
Be heart healthy, go to your check ups and utilize your doctors.
Engagement, wedding, honeymoon, failed trip to Florida, dad's emergency surgery and my Granny passing away. And of course all the petty stuff to really add the cherry on top.
We began the year with our engagement and I really had only planned on the year being solely about our wedding and new marriage---my were we in for an emotional treat! I'm the first to admit that I'm not the best at unplanned situations. For as creative as my brain is, I run 95% on organization and a set agenda.
Where am I going with this? I think I'm trying to explain how unstructured my year has felt. Yep, that's it.
In our world of medicine, it really is complicated to wrap my head around. When the surgeon explained my dad's aortic tear post-surgery in a drawing on his white board all I could really think was that it looked like a piece of abstract art. I couldn't repeat the terms enough times in my head to remember what all he was saying (to Google later, of course.) I only remembered "False Lumen" by relating it to lemon...which, by the way, have nothing to do with one another.
My go-to method for coping is documentation. Sounds weird, but it's my thing. I guess I have a fear of forgetting. My dad taught me to document. I assume this is where my love for photography came from. Not just the good times, all of them. I knew my dad would want to know about what had happened while he was paralyzed and sedated so what other choice did I have but to, say it with me: DOC-U-MENT. Boy was I right. He told McClain (a family friend) that he wished someone had videoed his surgery so he could see what they did. Well, I didn't video a lot, but I did take pictures. Don't start thinking I'm creepy...or do, it really is no matter.
Really the images are a great reminder of the amount of progress made in the last 3.5 weeks. People, I'm talking serious progress---like baby's first steps kind of thing.
I remember the moment at Target when it actually hit me that "this is the moment, my dad is dying". I told Jon I didn't have anything to say. You see in movies or hear stories about people who regret not saying things or wish someone knew how much they loved them. All I could think was he isn't doubting how much I love him and I didn't need to hear it either. He stayed alert during it all---rare. While I was on the phone with 9-1-1 he kept repeating "CASHIER 17, CASHIER 17" to tell EMSA where to find us. During my panicked phone call to Jon my dad was telling me, "I'm okay, Ape." (While lying on the Target floor) Far from the truth, but it was good to hear.
The next 48 hours were critical and we were mainly in hopeful devastation, if that makes any sense? The doctors and surgeons were very clear about the severity and mortality rate of this. For a moment I thought about asking the doctor if I could offer some illegal bribe to ensure he really focus and get the job done. Every person's situation is personal to him or her; with them seeing emergencies all the time I was afraid they would generalize my dad's life with others they had seen. We learned about the drastic measures taken during his surgery. They did what they call "The Big Chill", where they drained all of his blood and decreased his body temperature to 18 degrees. They have 45 minutes to work under these conditions and then have to get the body going again. I'm assuming unless you're a doctor in the room during this, it's really hard to comprehend. Obviously I understand the concept, but it still gives an eery essence. Needless to say, Dr. Garrett restored my faith in his line of work.
3 weeks later and dad is at home. He's not 100%---I'd say probably 65% for now. Give or take. He's still very fragile and the easiest tasks are exhausting---eating, walking, using the restroom, showering, etc. He's bored. Even with the exhaustion he wants to get out and do something, ANYTHING. Therapists are becoming his BFFs, when they can keep up.
Most of you know I have a very small family and I know we are forever grateful for the kindness and thoughtfulness from our friends who we consider to be part of our extended family. It's hard to lean on others when I really only lean on three people: My mom, dad & Jon. I am appreciative of my best friend Megan, her husband and sister who brought us dinner while my dad was still undergoing surgery. I know these situations are handled with care, nobody really knows what to say or do and nobody wants to seem overbearing or in your face--when really, it's not such a bad thing to be asked questions and talk about what's going on. I am grateful for Anna, one of my mom's best friends, for sitting with us while my dad was in surgery and adding a pleasant demeanor to complete turmoil. Father Bright was the perfect distraction that we needed. He had a way of telling humorous stories that got us off track for a second and of course had comforting words at the most needed times. Carole popping in to see us, Hayley stopping by the hospital to have a coffee with me, Susan & Kent bringing "Heart Healthy" snacks, Ray visiting and having a long chat with dad, the parishioners at All Souls' Episcopal Church and all of the compassion shown was a relief from the situation. The phone calls, cards, visits, flowers, meals, gifts and all that everyone has done will not be forgotten.
We've been on a bit of a rocky road and are starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I know a lot of you are curious about his progress and I plan to keep you updated. In the meantime the lyrics "started from the bottom, now we here" come to mind when I look at these pictures...
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