Living Proof

Yesterday afternoon, Madelene and I went to go to the farm to pick out our Christmas tree. Y'all know me better than to think that I chopped it down myself. (I have no idea why I got all southern on y'all.) It was really nice though, because we walked through the rows of firs, wreaths and homemade ornaments that were so beautiful. There were a ton of assorted Christmassy lanterns hanging up above in various colors that lit up the long outdoor aisles. At the end of the row, I noticed a very large wreath that had homemade red roses made out of nylon or some sort of similar material. It also included large metal rods that were meant to be placed into the ground of someone's graveside. In the middle of the wreath it said, "DAD". I instantly got a lump in my throat and my eyes started to well up with tears. When Madelene finally caught up with me, she looked down and then looked up at me. "Get it, Deb..." I couldn't speak. If I were to try, I'd...

"Why are you stifling your cries? Crying is supposed to be somewhat of a loud event." Jeffrey looked at me puzzled, as I sat across from him not crying hard enough. In the past 12 years I've been going to him for counseling, he has never once seen me cry before. To me, I was having a full-fledged meltdown. To him? I was just sniffling over something trivial, like watching the ending of Titanic. "Louder?" I asked. "Yes. You're holding back. Let it out." I sniffled some more, wiped my nose and then said, "I don't know how."  I spoke about this 5 years ago on this previous article and it mentions more about how Mom always told me, "Don't cry, mama - don't cry." I told Jeffrey about it and how my father did the same thing. They both wanted to see all of their kids happy. Crying meant that they were 100% unhappy with everything. So, even if you were crying over a heartbreak, it meant somehow, you weren't happy...

It never ever ends...so it seems. At this point, it's no longer an embarrassment so much as it is a joke now -- a very painful joke. Let me just start out by explaining my evening last Saturday night. My entire family got together for a BBQ. Everyone was having fun, I was limping around, but enjoying myself for once. I thought to myself, even with all the pain I'm in, life is still worth living if I can still spend time with my family, laugh, talk, share some wine with the people I love the most. Well, it was like God giving me a test. Later that night, I was getting ready to go to bed. As I was getting changed, I noticed something odd on my chest -- like an opened wound. I honestly did not feel anything. As I walked up closer to the mirror, I realized that the wound wasn't only huge, but it was severely infected with a red line traveling upward. I'm used to seeing a red line when my mother gets cellulitis. It's nothing to mess around with. So, off to the ER I go....

I gave Madelene a blanket and pillow and threw her on the couch last night. I didn't want her to go through a night of horrific blood curdling screams from all the pain I'm experiencing, especially that I can no longer take pain meds. I would have taken the couch myself, but I lock up every time I lay down on it.  She's been having a rough go of it at work and super stressed out, so she needed her sleep more than I did at this point. Why torture her by letting her sleep in the same bed with me? My dog had no problem taking up the rest of the unused portion of the bed. With each scream of pain, Lola looked up at me, sniffed my face and then gave me a lick. It was like I had a K9 nurse taking care of me, well, a very short legged, long-bodied one with chronic halitosis, but nonetheless. I woke up this morning, enjoyed a cup of coffee out on the deck and finally had some relief from the night's agonizing pain. I went to physical therapy last night and it helped a lot, bu...

As miserable as I can get sometimes, I do realize that every single thing happens for a reason and in order, lined up in God's will. This is something I truly believe. I don't believe in coincidences. I believe in serendipity and also, being at the right place at the right time + the wrong time in some cases. Life is strange. We curse God when we lose someone we love or when we fall into a deep and dark depression when things don't go our way, but to those who smile while walking through the trudge --- those are the people who truly inspire me.  Unanswered prayers are usually a blessing in disguise. While praying for something that's not  lined up in God's will -- I never realized how truly detrimental it would have been in my life if my prayers were answered. Hindsight 20/20. Have you ever noticed whenever there is a major tragedy or even a huge streak of luck, like winning the lotto or something --- some families tend to fall apart? In this case, I'm going to...

Rainy, dreary, foggy, unclear. It’s been like this for a bit... I haven’t been updating this site because my dad is sick right now and in the hospital. The family and I have been huddling around dad’s bed smiling so he can’t see the many tears held back for him. While we know the diagnosis and grim news, dad smiles, with hope, because some of the ‘truth’ has been hidden. But, I do believe in miracles and praying for one right now. I haven’t been able to write or think for the most part. My mind’s been so occupied. I guess if it was sunny outside, it would seem as though the weather was mocking us in some twisted way. If you could say a prayer for my dad and ask for a miracle somehow, we’d appreciate it. I miss that crazy Italian telling us awful politically incorrect jokes and stories. It’s strange, after a year of being ‘out of it’ and not himself, while at the hospital this past week, his positive spirit came back somehow. I can’t explain it. We all said, “He’s back!” But while the ...

There are days where I can hang with the best of them, smiling, laughing and joking. It baffles me that there are days that come which bring me pain, misery, sadness, resentment and sometimes even bitterness. Although it doesn’t last long, these thoughts that fill my mind with negativity just come crashing in like an unexpected tornado. “It’s a bad day” , I’ll tell em’, but more so, it’s a wave of insanity that grips me like a vice and squeezes out any positivity I have left to give or receive. “ It’s useless.” Rarely you’ll hear me say this, but on my bad days, you’ll hear these words muttered out as I suck down another chardonnay just to dull the pain. Pain: emotional and physical that takes a toll of my very being. The Vicodin may give me side effects---forget about the wine. That’s healthy, so the doctors say. “It’ll be alright.” my wife tries to convince me as I hold the area of the pain, crunched over in a corner, hoping there will be some relief soon. I’m living my life like ...

Usually at around 7-8 pm in the evening, the same man across the street comes outside of his apartment to sit out on the stoop and smoke a cigarette. He’s probably in his late 30’s, receding blondish hairline, attractive face and slim build. I can see him sitting there, arms folded upon his bended knees, deep in thought. Sometimes I wonder if he just needs to get away from his wife and family or if he’s not allowed to smoke in his apartment. Other times, I think he’s most likely hiding the fact that he still smokes while promising the wife he had quit a long time ago. Whatever the reason may be: this is his time. Maybe this is his only time to just sit in peace and stare out into space thinking about what could have been or what should have been, or even, how very lucky he is right now. The last option is usually not the case. I find myself doing the same thing right outside my own deck.  I stare out into space, but my thoughts are full of gratitude.  I don’t have much, but what ...

You would think a hospital would be clean with cold air circulating, so that any potential germs or bacteria would be quickly diminished. Not in this hospital. While waiting for Madelene to get taken into the operating room, we walked through the hallways into where she had to sign in. There were hampers of soiled gowns, sheets and other miscellaneous dirty clothes that were piled high against the corridors of one of the wings. It was warm and it smelled musty. I tried holding my breath, but I needed to breathe. It wasn’t easy. I figured this was just one part of the hospital that had bad ventilation and a bad cleaning staff. While Madelene’s mother and I sat in the waiting room, hoping for a good report from the surgeon, there were other people in there with two loud screaming little girls. One little girl screamed so much, that she threw up all over the floor. The cleaning crew came over and just placed a towel over it. It began to stink so badly that we had to actually move from whe...