Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Moving

We are moving.

Three words that have rarely been strung together in my vocabulary.

We are moving.

For many people moving is the norm, a way of life, even, for some.
But not for me.
Where we live now is two blocks from the home where I was born and raised.
I never moved as a child.

I have seven siblings and some people have jokingly said that we have short umbilical cords.  We all live within either walking distance or a very short drive of our childhood home.  It was a good home. Not a perfect home but a good one. It was a safe place, as homes should be. It was full of laughter and tears and warmth and hugs.  And most importantly, love.

My mom used to tell me that I would be her child that was going to move far away.  That wasn't the case.  I settled down just two blocks North.  My children have gone and are going to the same grade school, Jr. High and High school that I attended.  Our youngest graduates from 6th grade this week.

We have lived in this house for just under 18 years.  Our two youngest were born here. And much of the raising of all four of our children has occurred in this little brown brick building.  It has been a good home.  Not a perfect home but a good one.  I hope my children remember it as a safe place full of laughter and tears and hugs and warmth. And most importantly, love.



I have lived in the Timpanogos 3rd ward for, I would say, 40 of my 43 (almost 44) years.  My grandmother was my primary chorister, my sister-in-law was one of my relief society presidents, two of my brothers served in different bishopbrics, one of my brothers was my bishop. And I have loved every minute of it.  I have seen people come and go. And now I am one of those going.

I love the people of this ward and they have loved me into the person I am today.  I am going to miss seeing their smiling faces, their warm handshakes and their gentle hugs on Sundays.

But now we are moving.

I will be honest with you.  I am nervous. Nervous about going to a new ward in a new neighborhood. And it's not even that far away.  (I am actually moving closer to my sister, YAY! although we will not be in the same ward.)  Will people like me?  Will they "get" me and my sense of humor?  More importantly, will they be there for my family, for my kids, like this ward that we have lived in for years?

How is this all going to go down? 

I don't know.  I just know that when my mom passed away last July there was a "loosening", for lack of a better word.  And I feel that this move is right, it is good.  We will take this new, larger, brick and siding building and make it our home.  And it will be a good home. It will be a safe place.  Not just for our family but for everyone. We will fill it with laughter and tears and warmth and hugs. And most importantly, love.

We are moving.








Friday, April 10, 2015

A Wobbly Safety Bar

Life is like a roller coaster.
You have ups, you have downs.
Sometimes it's super fun! Weeeeeee!!
Other times it can be extremely stressful or scary.
Lately I've been on the latter track, the stressful and scary one.  It's felt kind of like the safety bar is faulty and I feel like I'm slipping out of the seat and I'm going to go flying off of the ride.

When your mom dies from a disease (Pulmonary Fibrosis) that you know she has but the doctors failed to tell you is fatal in 3-5 years and then her brother dies from the same thing three months later you get a little paranoid. Especially when it can be hereditary.  My sister had a dry cough for a long time and that is one of the symptoms of PF, so she was rightly concerned that she may have it so she was tested.  Thankfully the test came back negative.  She did, however find out some other information about her health which, while good for her to know, still wasn't the best of news.

Then I started getting sick.  Basically it felt like a cold but it hung around too long so I went into the doctor who started me on antibiotics. The first two rounds didn't do anything so I thought maybe it was viral and I tried treating things with OTC meds which helped a little but I just wasn't getting better. I had a cough and my lungs felt really tight so I went back in to see my doctor.  He  put me on some steroids and the heaviest hitting antibiotic he had.  I felt better for about three days and then we were back to round one where I was feeling tired and out of breath and just plain yucky.  When my doctor learned that I still wasn't feeling well he was concerned because he said that the antibiotic that he put me on "kills everything".  And a little voice in the back of my head said "What if it's Pulmonary Fibrosis?"

My doctor and I have had this conversation before and I have had x-rays on my chest that had said that I didn't have it.  But I was still nervous and really, the best way to screen for PF is an MRI.  After we chatted my doctor agreed that I should have an MRI done to see if that might be what was going on.  I didn't say anything about it on Facebook or social media because, in all honesty, I was really, really scared.  I was coming home from work exhausted and passing out on the couch, I was out of breath just singing a song.

It felt like that safety bar was very, very wobbly.

Ty and I went to the temple the day before I had the MRI. I  needed to find peace and maybe some answers to what the future might hold.  As we went into the celestial room of the Mt. Timpanogos Temple I looked into the mirrors that are there, and I received my answers.

You are eternal.  No matter what happens you will go on. And I felt peace.

I went in for the MRI on Thursday afternoon at 4:40 and Friday at about 7:15 I got the call from the doctor with the results.  Thankfully there is no Pulmonary Fibrosis.  However it did show that I have fluid around my heart.  In medical terms it's called Pericardial Effusion.  I was informed that the amount of fluid around my heart was minimal and not to be too concerned about it. I was told to get plenty of rest, drink lots of fluid and to exercise.

The safety bar feels a little less wobbly now.  Still not locked in place but definitely less wobbly.

I am still tired. It's still hard to catch my breath some days.   I get as much rest as I can but with having to work (thankfully it's not a physically difficult job), trying to get our house ready to sell, having four kids three who have varying degrees of crises whirling around them (who would have thought that my son with autism would be the one that I have the least amount of worry for?), selling my mom's house and getting ready to chaperon a bunch of high school choir kids in California... rest really isn't easy to come by.  Nor is exercise.  Fluids I can do.

Anyway, I just want to say that in spite of everything.
I am so very grateful to be on this ride.
I am thankful for the highs and the lows.
I am surrounded by amazing people who are on this ride that we call life with me.
I am blessed beyond measure with the best seat partner anyone could ask for.
And even though that darn safety bar still feels wiggly....

Everything will be okay.



Tuesday, February 17, 2015

The one where I ramble

I've been binge watching Friends on Netflix.

 (Does the blog title give it away?)

Can you imagine if Joey were president?

Anyway...life.

I am thinking about getting my hair cut, really short.  Not because I think I would look cute with that cut but because "wash and go" is super enticing right now, anything to make life simpler.  Because life really hasn't been that simple lately.

Ross is exceptionally annoying
and whiny most of the time.
Except when he is wearing leather pants.

Losing my mom, two uncles and a grandmother in six months, interspersed with kids dealing with depression, suicide attempts, trips to therapy, life and family changing revelations, some worrisome weight loss, and three of four children now with jobs, are all things that tend to lend to complications.

Not exaggerating. I wish I was exaggerating, but nope.

Phoebe cracks me up
and I love her outlook on life.
Sometimes I wish I could be more like her.

I get up and go to work, come home and all I want to do is nothing.  I've made it through "The Gilmore Girls" on Netflix.

Side note: How cool would it be if the writers of that show would write dialog for me?
That would be amazing.

Now I've moved on to "Friends".  Maybe I'll follow that up with "Lost".

I need Monica to live next door and be my friend.
(except for that whole being a massive competitor thing)
That way she can come and clean my house...
She totally would want to.

My house isn't a total wreck but it sure isn't clean.  Monica would have a heyday.  Dishes and laundry are never ending, as usual, but I can't seem to find the energy to keep on top of it.  (Not that I was super good at that before the complications.)

Mom's house still needs to be cleaned and put on the market. The garages still need to be gone through. I still have things of hers that need to be delivered to my siblings, things that have been sitting in my house for months.  I can do things in fits and spurts but any prolonged ability to cope with more than what title to watch next is pretty much non-existent.

Chanandlar Bong cracks me up but sometimes...
his humor can be mean.
And he's slightly homophobic.

I used to make dinner on a regular basis. Now? Not so much.  And I feel bad about that. In fact one doctor asked if we were eating healthy and I had to laugh.
 Eating?  Yes.
 Healthy? No.
Trying to get figure out what to have for dinner and have the energy to fix that as soon as I walk in the door from work? That just isn't happening.  I dread hearing the phrase "What's for dinner?" It takes all I have not to go completely ballistic on the person who is unlucky enough to utter those three dreaded words.

I don't have a whole lot to say about Rachel.
She is pretty focused on herself.

But Tom Seleck? Those dimples.
He is fine.  Still is at 70.
How is he 27 years older than me?

I have gained back the weight that I lost (no the concerning weight loss isn't mine).  And it's making itself known through lovely plantar faciitis, heartburn and heart palpitations.  I need to exercise.  My head knows this.  My body is basically yelling at me to get moving.  I know that when I do exercise I am happier.

I need to view exercise as my anti-depressant pill because, it truly is.  I know I am depressed.  I just have to read through this post to convince me, if nothing else will. But actually dragging myself out of bed at 5 a.m. to get to the rec center???

A gratitude journal would probably be helpful as well and yet I don't write things down.  Why?  Because I feel like the things that I have to be grateful for aren't as great as what other people have to be grateful for.

How lame is that?
Super lame, I tell ya.

And usually I'm not about comparing myself with others but for some reason in that area I am.
I am looking into why that is...kind of.

What I really love about Friends
is that they are SO good about being there for each other.
And when they fall short they own up to it.
And then they forgive one another and they move on,
and they remain friends.

Also they really make me laugh.
Especially  Phoebe and Joey.

I know that everyone has things that they are going through.  Other people have lost loved ones, spouses.  There are those out there who are battling their own demons.   Some have debilitating diseases both mental and physical.  Some have children who are fighting to survive, others have lost children.   There are marriages out there that are crumbling and couples that are doing their best to keep it together.  Some of those marriages are no longer.  People are out of work and hungry.
There is SO much happening, to everyone.

And again that "comparison" comes creeping in and so I share some, but not all of what is going on and I put on a "Good Face" because that's what I do. I love this poem by Shel Silverstein.  He puts it perfectly...


I need to say that the people in my life are wonderful.  My husband, my kids, my family and my friends have been truly supportive and I am so thankful for them, for putting up with me and loving me through all of this.  I don't know where I would be without them.

Probably in a much worse place than sitting on the couch binge watching "Friends".