It has been a very interesting month. Since my first post I have connected with old high school friends who have active or recovering addicts in their families. I have been contacted by people who are living the nightmare of Addiction as parents, spouses, children and friends of addicts as well as addicts themselves. Many have shared powerful stories of recovery. I have written or spoken the words ‘I am sorry for your loss’ too many times to count, though we really do need to keep counting… Every person we lose leaves a gaping hole in the world. That hole will swallow us all if the tide is not turned.
I did not intend to start a blog, and I am a bit unsure of where to take it from here. I am, after all, just the Mom of a recovering addict who posted a bit of a hissy fit to…
So one day a baby is born, no fault of her own. Her parents are poor and can’t afford enough food, so the child becomes sick. But they have no health insurance, so she becomes sicker. The air has grown smoggy, the masks don’t help. Her innate abilities, physical and intellectual, begin to shrink.
So a toddler grows to be a little boy. His parents abuse drugs, so they can’t properly care for him. Nobody cares. There are no pre-school programs available, not for poor boys. He falls through the cracks until 1st grade, when he’s already six.
So a child goes to school. There’s not enough food at home and her parents can’t afford school lunch, so she goes hungry. The child can’t concentrate and is labeled “difficult”. Nobody cares, her parents are too busy just surviving and her teachers, ignorant. Public schools are under-funded and failing.
So a little boy starts to grow big. There are no after school programs, so he wanders the streets and gets involved with drugs. There are no drug programs, so he gets addicted. Nobody cares. His life is over.
So a little girl begins to bloom, but she still has a child’s mind. She plays happily until one day, when Evil smells innocence and destroys her. There is no one to protect her, nobody to talk to. She spins out of control.
So one day a boy and girl meet…
This poem is dedicated to all the brave citizens who are standing up for human, animal and environmental rights. Mary Zabora “So this future will never be.”
My husband realized that our 13 year old daughter has not been using her toothbrush. We then came to the conclusion that she hasn’t been using her dermatologist ordered cream or antibiotic for acne. But she spent half an hour in the bathroom every night. What the hell was she doing in there? My husband deduced that she was playing on her phone for an extra half hour (and peeing). From the high level of sobs she emitted, we realized he was right. When asked why she wasn’t brushing her teeth all we could get out of her was, “I don’t know”.
She constantly wears a jacket. It’s got blue stripes and is like a hoodie, but with a zipper up the front. It’s about two sizes too big for her, so hangs on her like a potato sack, down past her butt. She wears it to school, to bed and everything in between. I hate it. It is horrid. No matter how nice she’s dressed, she looks like a slob. But there are the excuses; “It’s still chilly at the bus stop”, “It’s cold in the classsrooms”, and the ever popular, “I need the pockets”. She refuses to wear anything else. I used to think she might be embarrassed by her breasts or weight, so I let it go. Now I wonder if she’s been hiding things in those pockets.
What happened to that adorable, bright, happy, loving toddler and little girl. The one who happily brushed her teeth. She had the most luxurious, long hair that sparkled in the sunshine. Now she wants it cut shorter and it’s greasy and hangs in her face all the time. She washes it every other night and a few hours later, it’s greasy again. I don’t remember being that greasy as a teen. Hey! Don’t judge me.
I don’t know about you and to each his own and all that shit, but personally, I avoid things stuck into my rectum at all costs. After I turned 50 though, my doctor said that I should schedule a colonoscopy, which I haven’t done yet, and I’m almost 52. Here’s why-
The risk factors for Colo-rectal cancer:
Factors that may increase your risk of colon cancer include:
Older age. …
African-American race. …
A personal history of colorectal cancer or polyps. …
Inflammatory intestinal conditions. …
Inherited syndromes that increase colon cancer risk. …
Family history of colon cancer. …
Low-fiber, high-fat diet. …
A sedentary lifestyle
I don’t fit any of those, except maybe older age. So though I normally follow my doctor’s orders to a Capital T, I waited. Because I’d seen a commercial for this crazy thing called Cologuard, though my doctor hadn’t heard of it yet. By the time I got another check up, he and my insurance company were in agreement that Cologuard is my best option to start. With the understanding, of course, that if this shows anything abnormal, the next step will be a colonoscopy.
Anywho, I’d like to take you on a journey and yes, it’s a poop journey, so I’ll try to be as sensitive as possible for the faint of medical stuff.
#1 Get! My doctor ordered the test and it was delivered to my house via UPS.
Follow the instructions carefully!!!
Take your finished “sample” to a UPS store or call to schedule a pick-up. This is TIME SENSITIVE, so you must get it to UPS ASAP! Also, DO NOT do it on a Friday (as I did) because the weekend messes the whole thing up and you’ll have to do it again, as I did.
I haven’t gotten the results back yet, but hope this helps me avoid the whole colonoscopy ordeal for now. And remember this, take care of yourself, because nobody else will.
UPDATE: Later that day!, my doctor’s office called and said everything is negative!!! That’s a good negative. Very relieved.
I hate to toot my own horn 🎷, but TOOT! I really do hate self promotion, which doesn’t really jive with having your own business.
My business is @Etsy and it’s a great place to be. I try to shop there exclusively for gifts, because I find so many unique and affordable items. Above and below are some pics of the jewelry and rosaries I make. It’s really fun to get my creativity on and I appreciate this freedom. For so many years, as a single mother, I just worked and grocery shopped and cooked and cleaned and paid bills and took care of my children. There was no time for anything else except occasional sleep.
So now I can add jewelry designer/maker to my already diverse resume. And although I’ve spent more than I’ve made so far, maybe the shop will one day be successful. I really want to help my husband out. He worries about paying the bills and works so hard, I worry about him. 😖
So here’s to creativity, because life is meant to be enjoyed and it’s fun to make stuff!
My friend was writing on Facebook about her son’s condition and said, …”Everything is something until it is nothing.” Those words rang so true to me. It calls to mind the times that Chance was having a bad time with seizures. He is non-verbal, but every hiccup or head rub or cough or sneeze would attract my attention. Is he going to have another seizure? Will he stop breathing this time? Should I rush him to the hospital or call an ambulance?
With his sensory sensitivities I can’t vacuum when he’s home. But I’ve also got to scope out the atmosphere constantly. If it’s at all windy I’ll put his hood on. He hates wind. And those goddamn leaf blowers that I call pollution spreaders, Chance hates the noise and has a fit if they’re too close.
My time when he’s home is not my own, it’s all about him. And when he’s at school I worry and wait for the phone to ring from the nurse.
In her blog, DifferentDream.com, Sheri Dacon says this:
Fear is a big issue, the one that haunts me, the one that lies just below the outer crust of my fragile but mostly happy life. I don’t feel depressed. I am mostly in a good place. But the surface is so thin. I live in a constant state of hypervigilance. The tiniest quake could shatter the whole thing into oblivion.
That so well represents how I feel a lot of the time, except I AM depressed. And hypervigilant with a side of PTSD. Among other things. 😜