It's the day after Samhaim and I thought I would write a few things down about dad. Some things that I remember and things that he told me years ago and things that his brother told me a few months ago when I visited with him. Things that others may or not know or even care about - however, writing about dad helped me get through the accident, so when ever I am missing him - I write down memories and it helps me work through certain things and even recall other things that are buried deep in my flawed brain.

Dad had a horrible temper that I remember as a child. He worked long hours for the electric company and when I was little I remember that he worked a lot of Saturday overtime for the company. He was also on call for "trouble" - meaning that he would have to go in if there was a storm or some other "trouble" that required emergency workers. I know that he worked during the riots in 1968, Hurricane Agnes in 1972 and pretty much after any thunderstorm that wiped out power in the area no matter the day or time. If he didn't work on Saturday, it was rare and he used the day to run errands, wash cars, make repairs around the house and sleep. I remember him on the roof painting my windows, I remember helping him wash his company car, I remember him not being home on his day off because he had to take one of the cars in for service. I remember him getting phone calls late at night during storms and he would gear up and go out and I wouldn't see him until the next day.  I also remember him at the hospital with me when I had my stroke. He taught me how to take pills because there were no liquid forms of any of the meds I was on. He slept in the chair next to my bed - every night and then got up and went to work the next morning - came home, showered, ate dinner and reappeared at the hospital to spend another night in the chair. It has been speculated that the reason he was there was to keep me from talking about some imagined abuse at his hands, but I don't see how that's possible considering that I would have had all day to run my mouth while he was at work.

Dad scheduled his time very tightly because in all honestly I don't remember that he had a lot of it when I was small. He managed to take me and sis to piano lessons, he sang in his church choir on Sundays and went to choir rehearsals on Thursdays. He had season tickets to the symphony and the opera and managed to take us on vacations almost every year. Mom did not work at all that I remember until I turned 8 or 9 and then she was simply an aide at my elementary school in the cafeteria a few hours a week. She had worked as an administrative assistant for the Pennsylvania Railroad making great money until I was born, but as with so many women in the 60's - she had to quit when she began to 'show' and then stayed home after that. Money was very tight and I honestly think that mom thought that dad was going to become a doctor or a dentist following his discharge from the army - she indicated that in her diary - but sadly, he didn't receive the GI Bill like his brothers had done, thus there was no way to pay for medical school. He went to night school briefly, thinking maybe law school was the way to go, but dropped out soon after. He had thyroid problems and betwen work exhausting him, his reserves duty and night school - I've no idea how he stayed upright. He worked at the steel plant for a year or so while he went to electronics school and finally got the job with the electric company.

I also think that his salary was less than mom was expecting too, and I remember her complaing about having to work the few hours she did put in at my school. Dad did freelance repair work on electronic equipment at our church - I remember he always had a record player or a tape recorder or a typewriter to repair. It supplemented his income so he did it.  I do know that mom had surgery when I was about 3 or 4 and following that she wore a back brace for a year or so to fuse the section of her upper spine that had been operated on.  It seemed that there were always medical bills of some sort.

I do know that obviously they loved each other very much at one time or the other, but even after she recovered from her surgery - mom was mean, nasty and mouthy and if things weren't do just so, or kept just so, or cleaned just so - she would shriek for hours. And it wasn't a case of her hollering 'jes do do it' - it was a case of a glass of spilled milk causing her to have to re-scrub the entire kitchen and wash the walls down because one didn't know where the milk might have splattered. She would howl about the work and who's fault it was and if dad had caused whatever the transgression was - he normally heard about it for days. He worked unbelievably hard for most of his life - his job was not an easy one and I know that eventually he had enough of listening to mom's mouth. He told me once after she died - that he probably should have either divorced her years ago but because he had seen what divorce had done to his family, he didn't want the same things for his children - so he stayed. I saw her throw hot coffee on him, I saw her pour a teakettle of boiling water on him once and when he ran out the back door to get away from her, she promptly locked him out of the house. She scratched and clawed at his face even when she was in a hospital bed in 2002 because he wouldn't do whatever it was that she wanted right away. The same year she called the police at 2 am and claimed that she was being abused because he didn't get up right away to cath her. He had a schedule for doing that because she had refused to have a Foley cath put in - and had slept through the alarm because he was exhausted. Her response - call the cops.

Dad loved music dearly and probably should have been a musician - any sort of musician but he felt that he didn't know enough about it to do anything with it. He stated this in a bit of writing he did for night school. He played the piano, the trumpet, the clarinet and the cello. I think he was thrilled when I expressed interest in the piano and by the time I was 11 - sis was playing not only the piano but the cello as well. She played in various orchestras and competed county wide and state wide - winning most of the competitions. I know that dad was unbelievably proud of her and used to go to all of her rehearsals and concerts.  I don't recall that he pushed her much - but I do know that mom would be the one to fuss and complain when sis didn't practice as much as she thought she should have. Mom acted like we both owed her something for all of the money laid out for lessons etc. I finally quit when I was 16 because it had become obvious that because of the stroke - I was not going to go any further with my piano lessons. Dad was totally fine with it but told me that I would have to tell my teacher. I did. Mom had a fit because I guess she felt that money had been wasted on me. I don't know - but I do know that dad was out of the house as much as possible. When he was there, there was always a fight - so he would take sis to her orchestra rehersals and just stay rather than returning home. I honestly don't think he wanted to be home. He loved music so he stayed where it was being made. When sis's shoulder got messed up - that put a strain on things because he was home more - sis couldn't play. When she continued to have trouble with the shoulder  - mom rather nastily informed the whole world that she was probably just making it all up because she didn't want to play anymore. Of course mom was convinced that the pain from my ruptured disc in 1986 was just me being lazy and feigning pain because I didn't want to do my chores. Mom was simply not very nice if you mentioned that anything hurt.   

Sis did some solo work in 2004 with an orchestra and dad positively bubbled over and simply could not contain himself - that's how proud he was. He may not have expressed it to her - but I was living in the house at the time and Amber and I heard about it every waking second until the concert. He beamed. I understand that his presence at her rehearsals and at her concerts might have seemed a bit strange to her and to others - but dad wanted to be near the music and I think that mom had pushed him away and so he turned back to his first love -  which was music.

Am taking this moment to personally thank my ex-husband for all the shit that I am dealing with. If it weren't for him - our daughter would not be the hot angry mess that she is right now. So once more I would like to thank you.

Thank you for continuing to be an active alcoholic - rather than a recovering alcoholic.
Thank you for NOT getting some help and not realizing that it's not only not healthy but not the best thing to do in front of your child.
Thank you for drinking in front of her for years and completely terrifying her.
Thank you for NOT finally growing up after 45 years and realizing that you have a responsibility.
Thank you for being so self centered and selfish that you can't see beyond your own needs and wants.
Thank you for being in denial of your problems - it has taught her to deny things too.
Thank you for your lack of communication with her.
Thank you for failing to understand that in additional to her emotional upset, she is a teenager.
Thank you for flat out denying that she might have just a few issues of her own.
Thank you for not realizing that at your age there's really no fucking excuse anymore.
Thank you for irreparibly fucking with her life and then leaving me to pick up the pieces.

Not that I won't pick up the pieces - and not that you care because you really never have - but I'm exhausted and eventually I won't be able to. But then again maybe that's what your waiting for. It occurs to me that perhaps a lot of people are waiting for that.

An apology because I really was upset when I wrote this - however it is my daughter that he really needs to get his act together for. Not that he will, but the fact that he refuses makes it very difficult for her only other care-giver - me. And there is no amount of prayer or praising of God that is going to help me pay bills when he is almost 3 months in arrears on his child support. Last time I checked God doesn't have a bank, and while there are those who have always repeated to me that "god gave people free will" - my ex's free will to not do as ordered by the court with regards to his child support and the splitting of his 401K - the consequences of this - AND of his drinking "also free will from what I've been told" - have been thrust almost entirely on his young daughter. Not me. However, I am tired of having to pick up the pieces. She is unbelievably angry with him, and while I have told her  - and even given her the same line that others gave me years ago - that people have free will to do as they choose - she simply does not understand why he would do what he continues to do to her. It has upset her, depressed her, made her angry with me because this is something that mom can't fix. She is a teenager and does not have the same capacity to understand that adults have. She is very intelligent however, she wants her dad to actually be a real dad - but because he won't or can't for whatever his reasons are - she can't fathom why, so she is angry. She had her grandfather to be a dad for a while -  but he died in 2005 - so she lost yet another "dad".  Eventuially she will see that there is nothing she can do to change him or the circumstance of her grandfather's death - but for now, she is simply an angry teenager. And I don't blame her in the least.   

or type a while - whichever. It's sort of a catharsis for me - it helps when I get upset about things. Today I'm upset with things. Let me preface this by saying that I absolutely hate DSS. The Department of Social Services. Ugh. I have worked in education long enough to know that these people are overworked and underpaid - but they also don't answer their phones and they have an annoying habit of not telling people the truth about things. They don't exactly lie - they just refrain from mentioning things which of course subsequently screws things up worse. Basically - they're sneaky.

We have a small child at my school who is in the foster care system. I have seen many such children pass through the school system - most very successfully, some you never hear from again and can only pray that they are well and others would seem to have have lost the fight before they even have a chance. Such is the case with this adorable child. The foster mom came to register her with her own daughter a few weeks ago. We were told going in that the child was in therapeutic foster care - meaning that the foster parent gets close to 75,000 dollars a year for her care. She is on all kinds of medication - some of which is anti-psychotic medication. She comes to school in pull ups because while she is school aged - she is still having issues with this sort of thing. It is unclear whether she takes her medication or not - and yesterday and today because she was so out of control in the classroom - the teacher had to call someone to remove her. She was violent - throwing chairs, books and shoes, knocking over bookcases, hitting other students and instructors. Out she went - but in the process, she bit someone else, scatched and kicked another and destroyed the assistant principal's office. Several attempts to get ahold of the foster parent resulted in the cell phone being switched off, which of course went over like a fart in church. The foster placement center was in meetings or busy, DSS workers to whom the child has been assigned refused to answer their phones leaving administrators and counselors very worn out and annoyed. Our normally cool-as-a-cucumber guidance counselor was literally yelling at DSS workers and supervisors, foster placement workers and child psychologists today because ultimately nobody communicated to foster mom and as a result - she didn't communicate with the school. Technically, the child doesn't belong in a regular school setting - we don't have the resources to help with her issues. She belongs in a school setting where their is a extremely low student to teacher ratio and lots of assistance in the classroom.  There are fantastic schools for this in the area - but because nobody told anybody anything - we must now follow protocol which can take a few weeks. While we wait - what happens to the child in the meantime? She is a danger to herself and a danger to others - not just students but adults as well. She needs to be learning but simply can't because we are not equiped to meet her particular needs.

When the foster parent came yesterday, a meeting was arranged and we were informed that she was told that the child had some issues, but nothing like the onslaught she has had to deal with. She feels she was blindsided by DSS. And after a discussion with them - it was determined that they placed this child with this parent without filling her in on a WHOLE lot of details. They've apparently been doing this for a while with this child and as a result - she has been in 8 different foster homes. She is only 5 years old. If they had determined what her issues were when she was first placed in their care AND they had located an appropriate foster family AND told them the damn truth, rather than simply not communicating what the child's issues were, the child probably wouldn't have as many damn issues as she does now. I understand that everyone is not cut out to take care of a therapeutic foster child, however if her issues had been clearly communicated, they might have found someone willing to take her on anyway and actually work on the issues. But it would appear that the genius that is DSS would rather assure parents that the child is fine and does fine in school as opposed to telling them that the child will require special placement and a working IEP. 

So the end result is - we have a out of control child, a foster mother who is feeling like she can't do this (which will probably ultimately result in yet another foster placement for this child), a frustrated teacher, terrified students, upset parents of children in the same class, a VERY upset and black and blue counselor, an annoyed administrator - and me? Well lets just say I've got one hell of a headache and am half-deaf from having to listen to this poor child scream, cry, pound on doors and throw things - which she did for two hours; and even though I don't drink - I was very seriously considering a glass or two of wine tonight. I wanted to cry myself for this child today but can't because I have to remain professional. I know that some did in the privacy of their offices. I can only hope and pray that the folks I work for will kick some serious butt with regards to getting her some help. They are extrememly child-oriented so I know will do they very best they can in order to get this child the services she so desperately needs.

Please fix this.
Please.
My 13 year old has been cleaning and irrigating AND packing the hole in my left armpit for almost two weeks now. She has been doing a fabulous job and putting with mom's yelping and crying during the packing process. We have at least another two weeks to go before this thing will be completely healed - per the surgeon that I saw again on Thursday. At least he didn't cut me again. It must heal from the inside out so that there is no risk of more infection. The good news is that it is healing - it's not a deep as it was - although putting packing in and removing same is still unbelievably painful.

Here's my problem.
My 13 year is doing this.
Why?
Because although I am disabled, I work,  so therefore am not considered 'homebound'. I therefore don't qualify for a home healthcare nurse. Doesn't matter that I can't reach the wound because of my paralysis - because I work. I don't qualify. Says who? My health insurance company. I was told by the surgeon and the nurse who called me that I would have to 'find' someone to do this for me. Well who would they suggest? I am a divorced, single parent. My own parents are deceased and any other family I have lives too far away to help. Most of my friends are just like me - single and working - or married AND working and/or they live out of state, or in the case of a few - out of the country. The nurse at the elementary school where I work is not allowed to help me - per the health department. I have been disabled since I was 5, however nobody ever told me to sit back and let the government take care of me - I was encouraged to go to college and get a job. I did. I have worked since I was 17 years old and most of it full time - even while in college. Apparently, according to my insurance company, one must be a tax burden and/or sit on one's bum at home in order to qualify for a home health care nurse. Despite my disability, I am a contributing, tax paying member of society. I don't collect a disability check - although I could. My disability does prevent me from doing a lot of things - but going to work to do my job is not one of them. It does however, prevent me from doing things like irrigating, cleaning a packing a wound where this one is located - something I was told MUST be done twice daily. If it were on my stomach or my big toe - I'd be able to care for it with my left hand, but alas it is near my left armpit - I can't reach it with my left hand and can't even see it in the mirror with becoming a contortionist. So my daughter is doing this disagreeable chore. I am very proud of her for doing it - but she is only 13 and should not have to do things like this. She is NOT a nurse. She is a 13 year old.  She should be worrying about homework and texting friends - not the disgusting mess in her mothers armpit.

I chatted with a friend of mine who lives in the UK the other day and he told me that if I lived there and had this issue -there would be a traveling regional nurse in my home everyday. Free of charge. The nurses here charge $150 dollars per visit if they're not covered by insurance - that's $300 a day times 4 weeks. You do the math. Even if they are covered, it's about $14 dollars a day times 4 weeks - which again, for some is still expensive. $400 covers my car insurance, phone, internet, mobile and cable bills for the month. For people living on a budget, a bill like that can screw everything up.

In chatting with another friend who owns his own business and shop - he has to buy his own insurance for his entire family which is costing him $400-$500 dollars a month. He has 3 children and has to make sure that they are covered. It's almost double what I pay and I pay for 'family' insurance as well.

Again, I beg you - please fix this. What the opposition can't seem to get through their head is that if we make healthcare available to everyone - people will most likely be proactive about going to the doctor and being well, we'll have a lot less illness because things will be caught early and treated early so in the long run things will be cheaper. One would think they would be able to see this, but they simply can't, or won't.  I really wouldn't mind a bit extra taken for my paycheck if I didn't have to pay for all the insurance I have and I knew that it was going for healthcare.

MRSA. Anti-biotic resistant staph. No clue where I got it - well, thats not entirely true - I do have some clue, but can't prove a durned thing, so there it is.

My armpit has been cut open three times now. Twice by my PCP, who, bless his adorable heart, was far gentler than the surgeon he referred me to. I saw him last Wednesday and he sliced me to ribbons again. The abscess is the size of the knuckle on my thumb and at least 2 cm deep. He then informs me that it must be cleaned, irrigated and 'packed' twice a day. How the hell I'm supposed to do this - I have no clue. It's in my left armpit, I'm left handed and paralyzed on the right side. I have difficulty shaving that armpit. How in the hell am I supposed to irriagate and pack? I can barely hold a razor. Meh.

So the doc tells me that he will try and get me a home health care nurse - but doesn't know if my insurance will cover it. The nurse calls me - big surprise. They won't. Why? Because even though I'm technically disabled, I work so therefore am not homebound. So I asked her how I was supposed to do this if I was paralyzed. She said that they would send someone to teach a family member how to do this. Well the only family member I have is a 13 year old. Friends? Working. Parents? Deceased. Sister? Not going there. Even if I were speaking to her and she actually gave shit, there is no way she could drive to B-more twice a day to help me with this mess. The nurse then asked - well what about your husband?
Sorry hun. Haven't have one of those since 2001.
And I laughed.
Seriously.
Cracked.
Up.
Even if I did, there is no way that he would volunteer to help me with this.

So Amber walks in my room during the discussion and says, "Just forget about them mom, don't worry about it. I'll do it."  I was stunned to the soles of my shoes. So we discuss pain management - seeing as how everytime this thing has been packed before - I've been shot up with Novacaine to numb things. So the doc prescribes Percocet. I'm supposed to take it an hour before doing this and can't drive for 4. Uh.............nope. That won't work. Amber has to be a school at 7:40 and I have to be at work at 8:00. How would he recommend I get there? So we are doing this sans painkillers - which frankly kills me. It's better than being a zombie I suppose or sick 24/7 - rather than just sick after I take the sulfa based antibiotic that they are hoping will destroy this.  

So while I live in even more pain right now - I am unbelievably proud of my daughter. She said to me the other day as she was shoving packing gause in the hole - "You know mom - not to sound gross - but I'm enjoying this. It's like I'm helping make it better."

And she is.
She is saving my life.
If the staph gets into my lymph nodes and travels to my organs - it will kill me.
Fun huh?

like crap. Not tired really - just in a bit of physical discomfort. Oh yeah - and my wallet is screaming too - again. Not the truck this - I know - BIG surprise there - but rather - the air conditioner decided to die last weekend. So here I was last Saturday morning with an air-conditioner repair man at my door at 8:30. It had run out of freon - but sadly that means there is leak in the coil - never a good thing. He recharged the thing and went on his way with my money. Sigh. Eventually I will need to get the coil either fixed or replaced. More money.  

Then I notice a lump under my left arm. Upon examination it looked like a zit in all honesty but it was very hard so I put hot compresses on it and kept it clean and covered - hoping that whatever it was would either go away or pop. I'd settle for either - but sadly it did neither, but instead grew larger and more angry and infected looking. The lump was huge and encompassed my entire armpit. I finally made an appointment with my doctor about that and the pain I'm still having in my right leg and when I went in his eyes bugged and he said "That has to be opened. You've got some sort of an infection." No kidding. Really? The angry red swollen areas provded me with no clue I guess. That's only why I called and made the damn appointment. I either case - he whipped out the lidocaine needles, swabs, saline and a rather wicked looking knife. I know my eyes bugged. I was not counting on being operated on in the doctor's office. Ugh.

It was gross. Whatever it was that he wouldn't let me see - he sent for culture and biopsy. It was deep - definitely not a zit or a boil - but something way deep into my armpit. I've missed work yet again because once the numbing meds wore off last night I was in agony as predicted. He "packed" the hole that I now have and I get that removed on Monday. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't terrifed of what they may or may not find.

Almost. But in all honesty - I have been crying.

I got my truck back on Thursday from the shop.

New shop - Chevy Dealer. $700.00 for the emissions pipes that were rusted under the thing. The service manager showed them to me - and yes -they were rusted badly. I though that it would be a cheap fix. I was wrong.  They couldn't make it misfire -so I took it to work on Friday. It was fine. Saturday I got up to go and get my drivers license re-newed and to get my daughter an official ID. I told my girlfriend that I would take her to get her license re-newed as well - ours expired the same day. So we get half way around the beltway and the service light pops back on. So now I'm really pissed off. I call the dealer and told them that I would be up with it as soon as I got done. I continued to drive and it began to misfire again and the light begins to blink - never a good sign, so I pulled it over and called the shop back and had it towed AGAIN. Am now in a loaner car - that I can't bloody well get in and out of without screaming and am terrified of what they are going to tell me is wrong with the thing now.  I have spent $3000.00 dollars on it since May. I would love a new car however, you can't put car payments on a credit card so I am therefore screwed.  Mine is 9 years old and all I want is for someone to fix it correctly without dicking me around.

I also really wonder if it's not being sabotaged on purpose. My ex does know where we Iive and he did this sort of thing years ago to my Oldsmobile until my father threatened to mount a camera on the front of his garage. Then, miraculously, the damage stopped. Of course I had numerous complaint numbers taken by the local police and after I found a concrete nail in the sidewall of my tire (and it was on the inside sidewall - not the outside sidewall) - the cops were annoyed and I was told that they really wanted to catch whoever was doing this to my car. The day we went to court for the settlement conference, somehow the electrical wireing managed to get pulled off the engine. Thankfully - dad was able to loan me one of his cars at the time. I bought the truck afterwards and hadn't had it long when everything went down with the accident and then we moved. He knew where we lived but my parking lot was always very heavily populated and people knew my truck - and I usually wound up parking it a ways away from my building. In either case - I live less than a mile from where he works now and he has been here so he knows exactly where I live.  I am tired of dealing with him and his passive-agressive bullshit - I'm tired of my truck - I'm just tried in general. Work is killing me right now - it's the same shit every year from jack-ass parents who get offended because it's 4 o'clock and I've been at work since 8, have had no lunch, and am exhausted to the point of collapse and I tell them that I am leaving.

When my father died, I was living in his home because I couldn't afford to pay rent. My income was seconday to my husbands and I didn't make much. The ex decided to declare bankruptcy and I got stuck with all the joint bills. When I inherited dad's money - it went to pay the bills that had been left to me in the divorce, pay off my truck and pay my rent which was over 1000 dollars a month. I put what was left and the payoff from the nursing home into a downpayment for the place where I am living now. But I still have bills. Besides gas and elecrtic and phone. I have medical bills. Amber has had medical bills. I talked to my sister about money, the possibilty of sueing the estate because the accident was dad's fault and Amber was permanently injuried -  and thanks to sis I was forced to move out of dad's home, where I had been living for 4 years after my divorce. Sis had a meltdown and said that I would be taking "her money" if I sued the estate. She has a home and a husband who works and makes good money. I had neither. I had been forcibliy evicted from dad's home (despite being told in June that I could remain there - by July I had 30 days to get out)  so that it could be sold and jammed into an apartment that technically I couldn't afford on my income. Sis was nice and wrote them a letter stating that I was getting money from an estate - that's the only way I qualified for a two bedroom apartment. I had a child - where was I supposed to put her? On the damn porch? Sis works when she wants to and does NOTHING full time. In fact, in  conversation I had with my boss a few months ago - I mentioned to him that sis thought that I could just leave everyday at 2 oclock (I get off at 4) and simply go and get Amber from school. Um no. He asked where she was living (as in what planet) because that really wouldn't work every day.  Sis home schools her girls and gives piano lessons and such - if she even does that anymore. I'd love to have that kind of life to devote to my child as well - but unfortunately I married an asshole who decided to leave me in 2001. So I am on my own with regards to putting food on the table and such. It's not easy. I wish that she had some sense of how truly difficult it is for me to do this while disabled and on my own. She has NEVER had to deal with her children without help from hubby, in-laws, and people from her neighborhood. I had that luxury when dad was living, but never had the rest because my in-laws live out of state and my husbands mother was working at the time. Sis's friends don't work either apparently - all of my friends do.  She claims to be living in God's grace. I'd love to let her spend a week or two in my shoes and see how she feels about God's grace afterwards - because it occurs to me that the only people who say that are the ones who have the money to do exactly what they want. In all honesty I don't think she could do it on her own. Thankfully her husband isn't an asshole so even if they did divorce - I honestly think he would do right by his children and pay his child support and take an active part in raising them - rather than drinking like a fish and ignoring his children like Amber's father does. They can claim that life can be difficult for them too - but the only difficulty I see her having is trying to decide whether or not to copy the colors in my home when choosing what colors to paint her home. She had fireplaces put in, paint, flooring put in, bedroom sets bought, tv's bought - (where are dad's that she just had to have?) I had my kitchen painted by a friend of mine (who also works full time - night shift), I painted Amber's bathroom myself (and Julio touched it up) - everything else I left alone, including flooring, except for repairs to my heat pump (heat is a good thing to have in February) and kitchen, which in all honestly was falling apart when we moved in. I bought a new dishwasher because mine blew up and backed up all over my floor. I had to buy a television because sis took dad's good ones and left me with a 35 year old piece of crap that was falling apart and didn't get all the channels. I didn't even have a TV of my own - the ex had taken mine - I was borrowing one that belonged to a friend along with a VCR. I bought a cheap DVD player while living at dad's. Sis took all of his stereo equipment - left me nothing. Sis wanted almost the entire kitchen - but I really had to protest over that because I had nothing and was moving into an apartment. My ex had everything from my kitchen. Plates would have been nice.  I had no furniture except for my old brass bed and my bureaus. That and a few cheap bookcases. Amber was sleeping on one of my grandmother's beds at dad's house and sis announced that because she was having a baby that she would be taking that. I was told to buy a new bed for my daughter. So I gave Amber my old brass bed and announced that I would be taking the king that had been mom's and dads. After all - Pam and hubby already had a damn bed - and now I had none.  Eventually I had to buy a frame because the bed frame was in bad shape and was bent up - but I still sleep on the mattress and box springs. Of course the king sized bed didn't match the bedroom set and the old double was stored so sis took the bedroom set too technically. I had to buy curtains for my windows because they must either be white - or backed in white - sis helped herself to the ones that were already in the place because they weren't backed in white. There was china that sis didn't want but her hubby did. She acted like I was supposed to give it to her so he could have it. What if I wanted it? Sigh. I diodn't argue too much at the time because I remember what my grandmother's death had done to divide my father and his brothers - so I didn't want that for my family. Because I didn't want to argue, she rolled over me with regards to some thing including his living will. It's in the past now but it still bothers me sometimes and comes out when I"m having issues with things like my truck.

Sorry to rant but like I said in an earlier post - this is my place and I'm allowed to my opinion. So I'm ranting. If someone drops 300+ million on me - I'll stop. I promise.

They've started a betting pool at work.

For how long my truck will stay out of the shop.

Service engine light?

Yep.

Again.

Julio finds this amusing. I don't. I know he's just teasing but when he calls me asks where my truck is because it's not parked in it usual spot in the parking lot at work (he drives past every day on his way to work) and then says in his gorgeous accent "In the shop again, eh?"  I just want to cringe. So he says to me today "So maybe you trade it. Bad clunker." This time I wanted to cry.  

So this time instead of calling the Goodyear dealer that I usually deal with (and to whom I have paid close to 2 grand) - I called the local Chevy dealer. I went on a helluva trip the weekend of the 15th and it got me where I was going and back without incident. And I had to drive 75 mph at some points because if I hadn't the trucks on the road would have run over me. It went to work last Monday without incident and it went to work Tuesday without incident. On my way home however, it decided to blow a gasket on the water pump and once again it overheated and I had to have the damn thing towed. My clue? The gauge light came on and the overwhelming stink of anti-freeze - that and the greenish puddle in the parking lot.  Initially I  didn't know what on earth had caused the problem so I had it towed back to the Goodyear dealer - simply based on the crap that went down in May with my blown radiator. They repaired my water pump and declared it fine and sent me home (although it's still missing when I give it gas until it downshifts into 3rd).  

Yesterday as I was driving it to work the Service Engine light popped on for like the nine millionth time. I was not going to take it up to the Goodyear shop and have them scratch their heads and cut it off only to have it pop back on a week later like it's been doing. So I called the dealer and took  it up this morning knowing that they would probably keep it a while. The service manager called me and told me that the small emission leak that the computer keeps kicking out was merely a rotten hose running from the gas cap to the tank. It's nine years old so it's allowed I guess. Why on earth could they NOT have found a rotten hose while at the Goodyear shop? They did a smoke test on the thing  - same as the dealership did today. So we FINALLY have one problem solved. And it's a relatively cheap fix. All they have to do is take the spare tire off the bottom. I suspect that the reason it's missing is either my O2 sensor or my spider-injector. Am praying it's the O2 sensor. That's a cheap fix - the spider injector? Not so much.  In either case I want this thing fixed and fixed right - it's been a relatively sturdy running little truck and I don't have a monthly payment on it so I'm keeping it a while longer. My uncle has a 1985 Oldsmobile 98 that just keeps right on going - so why not my truck? He laughed and told me my problem with it is probably simply that it's a Chevy. I buy domestic and happen to like Chevrolet - so sue me. It comes from having driven a 1968 Chevelle for years. Additionally, because of my back problems and right leg issues - I simply can not climb in and out of a car anymore. It hurts too damn bad - so I have to have at least a small SUV or some sort of something that sits high. Unfortunately they tend to be a bit more expensive than cars.

Hopefully they will figure out the rest of the problem tomorrow and I'll get the thing back. One can hope. Ha!

Well I finally got my child support for July. Yesterday. Apparently the ex forgot where we live and mailed to the wrong address. So the post office dutifully returned it to him and he remailed it to another wrong address. Now I ask you..... he has mailed checks along with nasty notes to my address before and the envelopes have always been addressed correctly. He had been to my home in January and he works less then a mile from me. I've been here since 2006. How in the hell could he have forgotten the address? Seriously. Does he really expect me to believe that he simply forgot the address? Because I don't. Besides, he could have just called sis for it seeing as how they are such good friends. Obviously he didn't, so I mailed him a little reminder listing my complete address just in case he forgets the address again when he goes to mail August's check and September's. 

Don't ya love passive agressive bullshit? Sigh.

Kidding. The Priest was in town last night however. Judas Priest that is. They are on a 30th Anniversary tour of their British Steel album. Needless to say when I found out about this a while ago, I arranged to get tickets. Not the best seats in the world - but considering I haven't seen these guys play in a while, I just wanted to be there. So did Amber. So I sold a few things and made enough money to buy us both tickets.

It was an awesome concert with PopEvil doing the honors as opening band. They are relatively new to the metal scene and 98 Rock - our local radio station -  has been playing them to death (they formed in 2001 but didn't release their full length album until last year). Their stuff is good and they have two amazing guitar players. Amber's jaw dropped watching Dave Grahs fingers fly on the monitor. Whitesnake was supposed to follow - but I found out about a month ago that Coverdale was experiencing throat problems (he's had them before) and thus he was told not to sing until doctors could sort out the problem. They obviously cancelled their appearance, but were replaced with KIX - the local boys who shook things up at the M3 concert in May. Amber throughly enjoyed their antics and Steven Whiteman's very warped sense of humor. (he came to the front of the stage and asked if anyone wanted a banana after their first song and then proceeded to throw one to the audience) They put on one hell of a show complete with their usual umbrellas and balloons.

All of this was followed by Priest, who put on one hell of a show as well. The last time they toured for British Steel was in 1980 - they played Donnington and Iron Maiden opened for them. We were treated to every single track off that album plus a few extras like Freewheel Burning (complete with Halford on that damned bike). All in all it was an outstanding concert. Halford and Downing are both 58 years old and Tipton is 61. Halford's 4 octave range is still firmly in place and Tipton and Dowing played off each other like a bunch of kids. They honestly looked like they were having a great time - and that's really what it's all about. I do know that Downing has devoted his life to the band really - the past 35 years anyway. They have truly earned the title of 'metal gods'.

We had the usual round of drunks, women far to old to be attempting a BAD 80's flashback wearing fishnets and mini-skirts, men wearing leather in August (whoever he was - his chaps were falling off his ass truth be told), bikers and usual concert goers and a few like me with kids in tow. Amber looked gorgeous and was wearing my boots, my belt and my blouse - all far too small for me now - and oh did she get flirted with. Men stared and fell over themselve turning around to look at her. One even came up and sat next to her - took her hand and kissed it - I had to get in his face and tell him that she was only 13. His eyes bugged and he asked if she was my daughter. I said yes and he declared that she was beautiful and then promptly bounced away. Saw him later on the monitor down in the very front. He was cute and honestly sweet enough - probably early 20's but obviously was mistaken with regard to my daughter's age.

Dummy me forgot batteries for my camera so I was unable to take any sort of decent pictures - but I caught the stage with the camera on my cell phone.


Amber - before the concert.


Our seat weren't too bad and at least we were under the pavilion. It poured most of the day and into the early evening - the folks on the lawn were ankle deep in mud and folks that left to buy tee-shirts and/or use the bathroom got drenched.  Miss Pill decided that she too wanted a tour shirt - I figured she would and wound up buying her a KIX shirt with the ultimatum that she not wear it to school.

And I just want to preface this by saying that I am not a Republican. Shocker I know - but there it is. I work in education so I therefore support the ones that will give us the most for the kids. In either case - all I have done for the past two weeks is register children for school. Our parents have - per usual - waited until the last minute to come in and I am therefore swamped with irritated and crabby parents who want to know why there can't just give me their kids name and have done with it. Sadly my school system has gotten a bit anal retentive about what is required to register those children because unfortuantely we have parents who lie about where they live and about who they are in relation to the child in question; we also have custody disputes and foster children, children that live in shelters, etc - so therefore everyone must cross their 't's' and dot their 'i's' so that way we are sure we have who we are supposed to have and we know that the adult in question is either mom, dad, foster mom, grandmom, or some form of legal guardian be it kinship care or otherwise.

We also have a Pre-Kindergarten program. Not free daycare - but a federally funded pre-k program designed for children who are either economically disadvantaged or are receiving special ed services. Basically - it's designed for 4 year old children who really need a headstart before they reach kindergarten age.  Our school is located in a ethnically diverse neighborhood and we have as many as 30 different languages spoken by our foreign students. Everything from Urdu and Arabic to Tagalog, Creole, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Burmese, Vietnamese and Mandarin.  The majority of our parents are extremely hard working - we have one family from Egypt who is here on a grant from the Egyptian Embassy lecturing at Johns Hopkins Hospital for 2 or 3 years. They are doctors. We have families from Puerto Rico, Spain, Mexico, Honduras, Guatemala, etc. One of our parents works in our school and is our Spanish language liason. Basically she translates for me because my Spanish sucks. I'm re-learning my high school Spanish but it is still minimal at best. 

Long story short - we have numerous Spanish speaking families who come in to register their 4 year olds for Pre-K. Problem herein is this. In order to register - you must QUALIFY for the federally funded program. We are only allotted 80 spots. In other words - unless you have documentation to prove that your child is getting special ed services, you have to be able to prove a minimal income. Either with an Independence Card or Food Stamps or with a paystub or 1040 which states that your income vs. number of persons in your household is below a certain level.  Most people can. And do. They want their children in our program. And I don't blame them in the least - it's a great program and we have two outstanding teachers. However, several of these Spanish speaking women come in and all they can tell me is that they either don't work or they and their s/o work but they don't have a paycheck or tax form, they receive no assistance from the state and they get paid in cash. All this tells me is that they are illegal and are contributing NOTHING to the system that they wish to utilize for their 4 year old. You can't blame them for wanting to give their children an education but they are NOT paying taxes which of course raises mine and everybody elses. They need to contribute to the system the same as everybody else, rather than taking advantage of it and the fact that they don't just pisses me off is all.

Done with my rant.

Even if I were skinny and gorgeous and didn't walk like a drunk chicken I most likely wouldn't date. Of course men would probably actually ask me out - but my response would still be no. I don't trust them and while I fully realize that you don't use the actions of just one to judge an entire race or in this case - gender......however, I can not rid myself of my ex. It has nothing to do with still being in love or still caring or any of that nonsense - it has everything to do with the fact that he manages to keep himself ominpresent in my life simply by not paying his child support. Support that I need to buy groceries and school supplies and yes - like LAST year even medical supplies (she's out of testing strips for her blood glucose meter) I am a school secretary and while I love my job and love being around all those children - it still doesn't pay very much. When I started with the school system in 1992 as an Instructional Assistant - I was making a whole $9000.00 a year. (And yes I have the papers to prove that) By 1993 my salary was up to $10,000. I had been laid off by corporate America and took what I could get with regards to a job and because he was working - my income was secondary.

He did this to me the same time last year. Gave me no child support so that I was out of money and had to use what would have gone for my meds to buy her meds because she was so sick last year - of course leaving me in absolute agony without any meds whatsoever. Does he care? Apparently not. In order to take care of Amber it helps to not be in pain. But he'd probably rather I dropped dead - this is probably why he did what he did and continues to do the same thing. And he wonders why I hate him. He knew of my disability when we married 20 years ago - it's not like this is anything new that he's not aware of. Is he hoping the same thing will happen that happened last year? Because it won't. Based on his responses to his daughter's phone calls that she has been keeping track of for a while now, I refuse to call him and request anything because I'll probably just get accused of telephone harassment. So. No. Not going there. I'll continue to let my lawyer deal with it. Of course when we went to court in April so he could dismiss his request for a change in Amber's custody because he "didn't want to fight with me anymore" and "all this running around with her is killing me" - he made sure to write me off a check in a bold flourish in front of the judge and my lawyer and stated regarding the 17 grand he has owed he for the past EIGHT years from a 401K split - that "well you should have that money". Well where is it? Buried on a desert island somewhere a bit like Jack Sparrow's rum? X marks the spot? I have to get a shovel and dig? Cause it sure ain't making me any money. Even my lawyer called me to inquire as to whether I had gotten anything back in July and stated that he really didn't know what the ex was waiting for seeing as how he is the one that had to initiate the paperwork. I'll hazard a guess - Hell to freeze over?

I have medical bills of my own now - more so than usual - if I want to continue to walk. Being able to pay the doctors who have used their talents to help me out would be nice. It's not like I spend 150 a week on hair and nails. (I actually haven't done either in a good long while here - and I'm just talking about a basic haircut here) Being able to buy basic necessities like toilet paper and food would be nice too. School supplies for September are a great idea too. Gas in truck to actually get her to school works as well. Sadly I have to rob Peter to pay Paul to buy these things and my truck will probably blow up before any of this happens because I can't afford to get it fixed - again. A new vehicle would be nice as well (mine is 9 years old - and is slowing dying) - but sadly I can't afford the monthly payments there either.  Not that I'm whining. I honestly try not to - but as this is my place to vent and get things out of my system -that's exactly what I am doing.

My ex's seeming lack of concern and interest in his daughter is affecting us financially yes - however, and more importantly, it is affecting her feelings towards him and will ultimately affect any relationship they have in the future when she is grown.  He is choosing to ignore her - and she still really doesn't understand why he would. I have no explanation that I can give her really. I can call him names but that's not really the reason I would hope. I would hope there is more to his issues than just being an "asshole." . It's something deeper that is causing this behavior but it's not my place to speculate as to what it could be.

Unfortunately I have to deal with the consequences at the other end and have been dealing with those consequences for a while now.  She's been angry at his drinking for years and she never understood why he would drink and then attempt to drive and even attempt to put her in the car with him.  I understand alcoholism and it's selfishness - but trying to explain that to a child is never an easy task. He overreacts to most things and used to leave her in tears every time he dropped her off to school in 3rd and 4th grade. Both teachers and fellow students recognized it (in fact a few said something to her fourth grade teacher who said something to me). I said something as the time but got my head chewed off as well. I felt like I could control the visitations but still couldn't control the erratic behavior - and it wasn't the visitations I had a problem with - it was the behavior.  He leaves her in tears after most conversations. She called in hysterics at the beginning of July because he finally called the house in response to her messages and rather than talking to her - he apparently yelled at her and then said he couldn't talk and hung up. It upset her enough that she called me on my cell phone and cried for 45 minutes while I was on my way to see my doc.

According to a counselor Amber has been working with "he presents well". Yes he does. That's why I fell for him all those years ago - the big fool that I am - but his passive agressive behavior is now driving us crazy. He won't return Amber's things, he won't pay his child support, he won't split his 401K - the then tells others that we're "difficult to get ahold of." We live 2 minutes from where he works. He can probably see our building from his office building. It's honestly less than a mile. He has phone numbers, emails and a car.  We are not difficult to get ahold of - but that's the excuse that he's using for the time being. His daughter has called him many, many times, she's kept a log in fact of the messages that she's left. I've lost track in all honesty. It's become obvious to her that he doesn't want to talk to her - so why doesn't he just say so? Why the excuses? Again, I could speculate - but I won't. Sigh. The whole thing just frustrates me because I have to deal with her anger and I can see the upset and resignation on her face when she calls and leaves him messages. I allow her to call him because he is her father - it would upset her worse if I didn't - but I hate the fact that she is having to discover for herself how difficult he truly is to deal with.

Not really an update, but just some information of sorts thanks to my uncle - to whom I spoke at great length on Sunday night and again this evening. Charlie died from lupus and complications from smoking for years and years (the hypertension). His mother died from the same thing when he was just a small child.  He was about 4, I think. She is buried (her ashes) in the same plot as mom and dad and Grammy and the whole B-more clan. Apparently the lupus caused her body to swell so badly that when she did die, her body wouldn't fit in a casket. Hence the reason she was cremated. This was back in the early 50's when they didn't know a whole lot about the disease.

Charlie was living in an apartment in Columbia, S.C. and his daughter used to check on him daily because he apparently was not doing well and had lost a lot of weight, and she went to check on him in February and found him dead.  He apparently had suffered a heart attack. He was cremated as well and will be buried according to his wishes. What is a shame is that I barely knew him. When I did meet him - he was so good-looking and so much fun and I wish I could have know him better.

I have to have a physical done a few weeks ago. I've certainly had this sort of thing done before, especially before surgeries, but this one resulted in a new twist.  I have a new PCP. My old doctor has blissfully gone to work for the FDA (or so he thinks according to another doc I know that knows him) and his partner in the office has gone and become a Gucci doctor - the old only 400 people in the practice/must pay $1500 dollars to join dealies. - so in April I was forced to find a new Primary Care Physician.  I went with the old group that my old PCP belonged to. Same nurse-practicioner, some of the same reagular duty nurses. They throughly checked me out and drew enough blood for a vampire. I had the EEG and all that nonsense done and everything checked out except for the blood work. I get a call - doc needs to see you. So in I truddled and while my cholesterol is fine, heck even my BAD cholesterol is fine - my vitamin D levels were abnormally low. 30 would be scary-low on a scale of 0-100. Per the doc - my was 8. Weird? Weird. It's not like I don't go outside or sit in the sun. The problem here is that of course Vitmain D helps you absorb calcium - an issue that my back seems to be having seeing as how it's collapsing. My broken arm in Glasgow in 2007 should have been a clue because I have never broken a major bone like that in my life - just a fractured finger and a small toe on my right foot.  My doctor prescribed horse pills (oy I wish they'd stop with the meds already - I have a pharmacy in my bathroom drawer) that I have to take for a month and then once a month and then he wants to retest to see if my levels stay up. Because it was really, really low - he is concerned that something else is pulling it down. Could be the myriad of other meds I'm taking just so I can walk without screaming? Dunno. He indicated that given the pain I was having in my right leg - I could have the adult equivalent of rickets - basically, softening of the bones. So I have to go for a bone density test at some point as well. Happy, happy, joy, joy.  The fact that I was on steroids is scary too  - because those would have reduced the metabolism of any Vitamin D that I was getting. Sigh. I want the next phone call I get to be someone telling me that I just won a million dollars - not my doctor calling me with more concerns about my health.

Additionally, Amber's blood sugar popped low (as in 50) on blood work done for her for a completely different reason. Normal levels would be 70-80 before meals and 130 after meals. We can't get hers above 90-95 after meals. Now I have to take her for a Blood Glucose tolerance test. Must wait until next week as she is in summer school and the tests are done in the morning and can last up to 3 hours. Diabeties is a possibilty as is Hypoglycemia - which is honestly more likely. Diabeties runs in the family - my grandmother's sister had it very badly, another cousin of my mother's has it so severly to where he has to wear an insulin pump, and my dad was diagnosed with it after the accident in 2005, although I think he had it WAY before 2005. I'd begun monitoring Amber's mood vs. when she ate last year in Septemeber when an earlier blood revealed low blood sugar - but shen she was sent for another one - it came back normal so her pediatrician wasn't concerned at that point. I was (believe it or not) and in February it really became obvious that her irritability level and overall general mood were contingent upon when she ate. Lunch at her middle school was very early and of course the children aren't allowed to snack. By April, I had bought her a glucose meter (dad had one but who knows where that went) and she began (at my prodding) to monitor her blood sugar.  She's been very good about it and can  now stop herself and cite "oops - low blood sugar - sorry mom" when she chews my head off about doing chores like taking out the trash and completing homework on her own. Which on a side note I am happy to report that homework is actually being done for summer school and we have a 'B' in math rather than an 'E'. I think  maybe the old summer school actually worked. She definitely doesn't want to have to do that again and is WAY more focused about getting things done. Montoring her blood sugar seems to be helping quite a bit.

Unfortunately there is no cure for Hypoglycemia except to monitor and eat lots of small meals. It really does explain a lot of her behavior issues that I've been experiencing over the past few years and even she had become concerned about the cold sweats and the headaches/light headed feeling she was experiencing. The problem here is that a drop in blood sugar can cause coma - so we now have glucose tablets in the house. Her mood brightens and the irritability factor drops by about 100 points after she has had a small meal. Of course if I could just get her to eat actual FOOD we'd be headed the right direction. She wants to be a vegetarian - this week.  She's 5'3" tall weighs 109 pounds and thinks she's fat. Oy. Veh. She wears a size 3/4 women's jean. I've NEVER been a size 3/4. NEVER.  EVER. So I keep encourgaing her to eat and of course inforning her that she is far from fat.  Unfortunately she goes to school with wealthy girls who model and they have told her over and over that she is. I'd like choke them all with chocolate cake. A la mode.

I just found out today that my first cousin has passed away. The last time I saw Charlie or "Charlie Boy" as I knew him - was at my grandmother's 80th birthday at our uncle's home in Falls Church, Virginia. I was about 13-14 at the time and he was a helluva lot of fun. He was the son of my dad's olderst brother, who passed away in 1990. Charlie attended our grandmother's funeral in 1985 but I only saw him from a distance and didn't get to speak with him at all. He  a bit older than me and his family moved to Kentucky when I was a teenager. He has half sisters in North Carolina and children in Kentucky, Tennessee and South Carolina. His daughter - my second cousin -  is a lawyer and his one son works in Obstetrics.


A picture my dad gave me years ago - belonged to my grandmother. Charlie at around age 17-18. I believe he attended Randolph-Macon Academy in Front Royal.

Just a bit more information for those who more than likely think I know more than I do. Not that I expect to be believed, after all, according to sis - I lie all the time. So.....

Charlie died in FEBRUARY. I stumbled across his obit while doing some genealogy work on the internet Saturday evening. Initially, I thought I was looking at my uncles obit, but when I saw the date, I realized who it was. From what I can glean - pulonary hypertension was the cause. He was only 59. I am painfully aware of the heart and circulatory problem that run in the family - they did a DNA profile on me years ago when I was pregnant because given the infomation I gave my OB -  he was concerned re my stroke, etc. Because of this and with a lot of help from dad at the time - I know who died when and from what. Heart attacks and aneyurisms - all young. Anyway, I contacted Charlie's sister immediately who I am in touch with via other sources, but she is on vacation at the beach and hasn't responded yet. She doesn't answer her phone either. I then attempted to get in touch with his daughter and she got back to me late Sunday afternoon. That is all I know. I shared phone numbers and emails with an uncle, who called me before I had my ducks in a row regarding contacting anyone else about this. My daughter had a girlfriend over for the weekend and I was dealing with all the fun happy things that go with having two teenagers in your home, not to mention having to get the child home by 6:30. Per Charlie's daughter - her father wasn't in touch with anyone in the family and therefore she didn't who to contact when he passed away. This is why I'm just finding out. That is all I know.

I received a phone call today from someone inquiring as to how I was. I know that my friends know how I am via other internet sources as well as the telephone. So if you are a friend of mine - please don't take this the wrong way. It is not directed at you guys.

I am assuming that the phone call came as a result of someone reading my livejournal or someone talked to someone who talked to someone, yadda, yadda, yadda.....How I am and whether or not I have had to have surgery on my back is on a need to know basis - and as far as I'm concerned, the person that called doesn't need to know. I am responsible for myself and my daughter, not for providing (you) with more fodder for gossip and your oh-so-righteous advice.

I am asking you as nicely as I can muster one last time - please go away. And stay away.  Thank you.

Finally have  diagnosis here. Nothing new really - except that the pain has a name and I know why and what is causing the nonsense. Back in 1987, I ruptured a disc in a lower back - between L4 and L5 - translated - between Lumbar vertabrae 4 and 5. After dealing with my uncooperative mother for months, who thought my issues with pain and not being able to bend over without screaming were just laziness, I finally secured a visit to see an orthopedist who x-rayed me couldn't find anything wrong except for the fact that I am an inch shorter on the right side than on the left - all caused by the muscle spasms related to the stroke. He advised heel lifts and 1600 mg of ibuprophen daily for the rest of my life. I was 21 at the time. It did virtually nothing so when my toes went numb on my left foot - I kicked and screamed my way back into see my regular doctor and insisted on seeing the neurosurgeon who had seen me at the time of the stroke. He hadn't seen me for years - but I insisted. Within 2 weeks I was being operated on for a badly ruptured disc. He told my father that it was so badly ruptured it was a wonder I could even walk. At the time I'd like to have taken the surgical instruments and shoved them squarely up my mother's ass.

Sadly it seems that the disc that was ground down shoved back in place all those years ago has now calcified. It's part of the normal ageing process from what I've been told (arthritis) - however, because of where it is - it is creating issues and not helping the spinal stenosis that I have apparently developed as well. The stenosis is also between L4 and L5 and is basically choking off my spinal cord. In layman's terms - stenosis is a narrowing of the spaces in the spinal canal, resulting in compression of the spinal cord - this is all due to the disc degeneration.

Happy happy joy joy. So I have another appoinment to see a surgeon next Thursday, after seeing one yesterday. They've up-ed the steroids, but I really think that surgery is iminent. And if it will fix the problem permanently? Let's go for it shall we?

Just kidding. But let it not be said that I am not my father's daughter. Right down to my back. I have been having trouble with my back and right leg since May 30. It has gradually gotten worse over the past week to where I literally could not walk yesterday. Naturally Amber had to go to school and rather nastily informed of this (she is a special transfer and I must transport her - there is no bus service) so I  dropped her and went immediately to the doctor's office. They caught me at the front door in a wheelchair. I saw the doctor who informed me that they would be calling for an ambulance to take me to NW. By the time I got there, I was screaming - that's how bad it was. It literatlly felt like someone had pushed a knife through my right thigh and twisted it. That and the pain coming down my right butt cheek was achingly familiar. Can you say surgery in 1987 to repair a ruptured disc from the way I walk? I honestly thought that is what was wrong again. No so. After talking to at least 5 of my doctors - the ER doc on call - finally ordered a CT and low and behold - I have lower back disease. Translated? Stenosis of the spine. In layman's term? The holes that the nerves come out of in the spinal column become smaller and smaller, eventually choking off the nerves. So after MUCH morphine, adavan, and finally.........a IV steroid - the pain FINALLY reduced itself to a dull roar and viola! I was sent home around midnight. With more drugs. Ugh.

I have a appointment to see an orthopedic surgeon tomorrow - this will definitely require surgery at some point. Funny thing is - the name I was given is the same doc that operated on dad for the same damn thing a few years before he passed. Dad came out of that surgery just fine so I have good expectations if and when he does operate.

All I can say is thank you to the folks I work with and Amber's godmother and her housemate. As I was being transported  - I left my house keys with the doctor - called work - a co-worker came and got them - my boss picked Amber up after school, took her home - I had called her godmother who picked her up from there. This morning I called and told the boss what was going on -he and another co-worked came to my house - picked up my car keys, took my perscriptions to the pharmacy, went and got my car came back with it, picked up my prescriptions (and a box of cat litter) and told me pointedly not to drive because of the morphine that I'm on. In addition to Valium, and Pregnisone to reduce swelling of the nerves in my back. I called Amber's godmother who had her housemate bring Amber home.

I owe everyone so much beer it isn't even funny. Including the doc at the ER. He was wonderful. The best damn ER doc I have had in a good long while.

I know half of you reading this don't know who these guys are, and the other half are going "ewwwww hair bands!!!! Yuck!!!" but hey, they were my thing in high school and college - along with the heavier stuff like Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Scorpions, Accept, and Metallica. Our local radio station, which has been around playing album rock for 30+ years, sponsored a music festival yesterday featuring some of the big name hair bands from the 80's and 90's. Y & T, Slaughter, Jani Lane (from Warrant), Dokken, Kix, Extreme, Ratt, Keel, Bullet Boys, LA Guns, and Twisted Sister. Steel Panther (snark) was there, along with Slamm, XYZ (think: The Whiskey) and Jetboy. I think the only ones missing were Poison, Cinderella, Black N'Blue, Winger, Firehouse, White Lion, Steelheart and the Vinnie Vincent Invasion.

I took Amber with me and I think she actually had a good time. At least she indicated that she did. It's a bit hard to tell nowdays - she's a teenager. I am happy to report that these guys still have the chops. They sang and played their asses off and it was a blast to see these bands - most of which I've seen before - on the stage again. Don Dokken is still a complete smartass and his favorite word is still the f-bomb. Steven Whiteman from Kix is still a crazy m-f-er and still the consumate showman. Ballons, beachballs, umbrellas abounded during their set and I almost felt sorry for Extreme having to follow them - but hey - this is B-more and they are the local boys. If they do't play - there is usually a damn riot. I've seen them play at Hammerjacks too many times to count. A friend of mine from college went to high school with them - so, oh yeah..... nuff said. Y & T played an excellent set - Dave Meneketti was outstanding and came out to meet the crowd after they had finished. Don Dokken played with Y & T's bass player. Dunno what that was about but he sounded outstanding so who gives a crap. Jani Lane sang his ass off as well, as did Mark Slaughter, who can still hit all those high notes.

I'm half deaf from the noise - we were, after all down front right by the amps, and standing as long as I did about killed my right leg - I did finally have to sit, but it was worth it as far as I'm concerned.

The one thing that I did notice was that despite 25 years, some people apparently don't mature at all and thus we had the obligatory fight in the crowd up on the festival lawn.  Amber and I spend a good deal of time down front on the floor so we didn't catch some of the nonsense. What she did notice which is very painful to me is the number of drunks present. She got pushed out of the way on the floor by a female carrying wine with a TINY child with her who finally acknowledged Amber with a  "Can you see hun?" Amber's response? "Well no. Not now." She pushed into me and when I indicated my crutch, she backed off. I'd like to have shoved it up her ass - but as her sole goal was to get Mark Slaughter's attention,  I figured it wasn't worth it. The bleach had apparently permeated her brain - poor dear.

We left before Twisted Sister took the stage - not just because they're not my thing, but because of the drunks that are unfortunately omnipresent at events like this, I didn't want to have to fight my way out of the park lot with all of them, nor be on the road for any length of time with them.

Judas Priest will be at this venue in August, along with Whitesnake. Guess who will beg, borrow and steal to get tickets? Besides.... Amber wants to go.