Apr. 15th, 2009

altarflame: (Time is coming for me.)
This evening I made a big old wok of stir fry vegetables (terriyaki), a big pot of chickpea noodle soup, and a yellow cake with chocolate buttercream frosting and some of my strawberry filling. All from scratch, all good. And a lot of 10 minute boil in bag brown rice to go with the stir fry.




Every time I closed my eyes to go to sleep last night, I saw my Grandpa's dead body in the funeral home. I cried a lot in the funeral home. I'm still not completely sure why; it was some combination of having known him in life and seeing his dead body, being near a dead body in general, and the overwhelming pain and grief my mother was feeling. Basically I was standing in an emotional tidal wave and there was no way not to get sucked under.

This is the third time I've been near a dead person. It always unsettles me terribly.

It's just so fucking intensely obvious that it is not the person anymore. SO MUCH of how a face looks, is the personality that animates it - even in sleep, even in a coma. I really don't understand how anyone could see a dead body and not know that souls exist. What was there...is gone. What is left...is something else. Vacant, and decomposing.

So those first few hours in bed, I had all these cyclical, exponential thoughts. Round and round, wider and wider...
That is going to happen to me one day - all this flesh on me will be just a carcass.
It's going to happen to everyone I know or ever see.
Everything is so temporary, so changeable, we are all gradually falling apart physically.
Sometimes, people go into the hospital and don't come back out.
Sometimes, there is something going wrong inside your body and you have no idea until it's too late.
It's going to be our parents, before we know it - mine and Laura's, Grant's and Frank's.
Not just that Grandpa died, but my Mom and Dad and Teresa have all been in the hospital for serious things now, in these past years.
My Nana!
When I was in the ICU, I had such a thick and solid wall up, blocking out my emotions, that nothing I perceived can be trusted. But it seemed, it really seemed as though everything was trying to fade to black, as though that's all there would be, if I let go - just black.
Could it really actually be possible that Grandpa is in Hell?
Could it really actually be possible that Grandpa is in Heaven?
I was so afraid of my parents going to hell as a 6 year old in Baptist school.
Everything is so temporary, my mother refusing to come to church where I was getting baptised, my mother getting baptised in a church, my mother in the My Dad years, the Jud years, the (golden) Todd years. My mother now thin and fragile and different, no boundaries, but looking like her old self for just an hour before she left.
Except skinny like she was 17 and in my baby pictures.
I say these things, these wild hyperbole over the top things to joke like I'm so old, but they're ACTUALLY TRUE:
-The bridge I drove over all the time in my remembered childhood is rusted railings falling into the sea and 9 foot trees coming up through the asphalt
-my baby videos are silent flickering things converted from old reels
What will my Dad have left to live for, if his Dad dies? He drives a cab, he lives with Madie, and he takes care of his Dad. That is the important part.
My daughter will be 9 so soon.
My baby will be 2 so soon.
My brother was my 2 year old baby.

It was a long time getting to sleep full of intense dreams.




Grant is still sick. We have been talking a lot about all of this. And I ran a lot of errands with Ananda today - Publix, post office, CVS for a picture print, PetCo for hay and litter.

God feels so real to me. Not just real...always real. He seems so CLOSE. I keep praying and having the sense of turning to yell to someone and finding myself nose to nose with them, and being like...oh. And adjusting my volume. It's how I felt in Boston, and at camp. I spent an hour on the phone with my Dad today. And my mom called 3 times. I pray Mother Teresa's prayer; Speak with my mouth, touch with my hands. I don't know how to explain what I mean except that I FELT my prayers working, in the funeral parlor, I felt my mother's pain and I felt how she needed it and I felt it working. Not taking the pain away. Just the sharpest corners, the roughest edges, making it something she could wade through somehow. Holding her up. There are all these little things I start to want to do - to eat crap when I'm not hungry, to slack off when I shouldn't, to give in to little temptations of all kinds, but it's easy...easy to not do them. It's annoying how easy it is, because I want to be more tempted and do them and like them. But it's just so clear that I'm not supposed to, and don't need it. That it isn't what I'm really looking for. And then the words and tones are right there, to say these things to my mother and to my father that are so hard to say, so harsh to say, that need to be said, and then I'm in some state of curious surprise that I didn't offend anyone because I wasn't offensive.

I guess this is kind of cryptic. But it's amazing. I feel so calm, but calm in this very humble, very raw way that has to do with deep connection and faith in surreal times.

I do hope that I sleep better tonight.
altarflame: (bleeding roses)
So I was not able to get my IUD as planned today because when I called in to say I started my period (they insert it during your period), I was told they've been trying to reach me because my pap was abnormal and I have to come in to talk about it.

First of all I ran over my caller ID and they've called twice in the last month? Not exactly beating down the door, and no voicemails either O_o I tried to get them to tell me something over the phone, but stupid HIPPA laws (privacy laws) are in the way. I hate hippa, they are the reason I can't do volunteer chaplaincy anymore.

I basically did my numb dissociation thing as I packed all my kids up and took them to my sister's house and then drove over there to see what the heck is going on in my body NOW.

Luckily, it is the most minor of abnormal results - "abnormal squamus cells, unspecified type", which basically means, could be tampon fibers or maybe I had sex the day before the test, or anything. The protocol is to get another pap in 5 months and then a 3rd 5 months after that, to make sure it doesn't turn into some precancerous thing that would have to be removed. Even if it DOES turn into some precancerous thing, with these regular paps it's caught so early that it's not the kind of thing that requires chemo or is life threatening. They basically just scrape it off your cervix and then monitor to make sure it stays gone.

I was really relieved...but this means I can't get the IUD for AT LEAST 8 more months! (second and third pap from first one in February, plus waiting for results and then to start my period again...)

A small part of me is relieved about that, because I am still a little bit nervous about the IUD.

But a lot of me is worried, because this whole "condoms, 'anything but' and NFP" thing we're doing for bc now gives me a sort of "can only hold for so long" impression. And the truth is that the thought of getting pregnant right now really frightens me badly. I can't even begin to imagine the complications that could arise from starting a pregnancy with such a large, intense hernia that involves a partially trapped bowel. I have such a hugely protruding stomach and so much back pain, RIGHT NOW. I can't even take iron anymore because it's constipating (even like my ultra natural plant derived organic food grade yada yada iron).

Also, and this is partially due to things like out of town baby showers, death in the family, Grant's getting sick and weird test results, but I've been feeling as though it's all I can do to give these five kids what they deserve, lately. I definitely would not be doing things like planting a big garden and getting cats, rabbits and chickens if I was anticipating another baby anytime soon.

Additionally, it's important to me to nurse Elise as long and often as she wants to, because of her continuing to be in crucial periods of rapid brain development...my pediatrician's info on stem cells in breastmilk and brain injury (he specializes in neuro stuff because of his own special needs daughter), the NICU care coordinator's anecdotal talk of how much better the brain injured ones who nurse seem to do, and (of all things) a 60 Minutes my Dad saw when she was born all tell me the same thing - let her have it as long as she wants. This is important. Like, Jake is 3.5 now and I only really "let" him nurse like every other day for a few minutes before bed or when he first wakes up. Four times a week or something. It's tandem and he's big and I am kind of tired of it, he is just as happy to read a book half the time. He's the oldest nursling I've ever had, too, and big for his age so at some point it just starts to seem like, you know. Let's just snuggle, big guy. But it's different with her, there is an actual indication to continue. And it seems right that she's "last" and doesn't have to compete and can just self wean. The points are; 1. I don't want to get pregnant again and have a new baby be first at the breast while she's pushed to the side, and 2. I am still limited to nursing-friendly bc options that don't interfere with supply, even though she is almost two. This aside from how I just don't tolerate hormones in general and balloon in weight when it's crucial right now for me to LOSE weight so my reparative surgery is effective, yada yada yada...maybe I'll buy a Lady Comp or something.

So. Not dying, yay! But...hmm.

*In other news, day 3 back on Weight Watchers and it's working out really well so far. I am sure this has a lot to do with me being close to God and really prayerful throughout the day.

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