wildcelticrose.net

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The Star Wars Trilogy was on Spike the last three nights. (if I’m going to be sick, at least I’m sick with cable TV)

There were things in all three movies that I didn’t remember or remembered differently, which is not all that surprising since the first one was 32 years ago.

When a friend blogged about Hayden Christensen (who played Anakin in the prequel) appearing in final scene of the 3rd movie, I did some checking and discovered that a lot of changes had been made in all three movies.

Here are the sites listing a good number of the changes as well as some good screen shots showing the differences.

changes made to Star Wars-A New Hope

changes made to Star Wars-The Empire Strikes Back

changes made to Star Wars-Return of the Jedi

I’ve been going more than a bit batshit sitting here on the couch being sick. It’s just not good when someone’s already grieving, stressed and depressed. I’m starting to cry for no good reason (OK, well maybe I have good reason; my mother’s memorial/ash scattering is this weekend), but I’ve got to pull it together and get healthy)

I decided that at this point, stress (which is what lowered my immune system in the first place) and depression are a greater threat to me than moving around

So I went for a very short walk over the park and conservatory in my neighborhood and shot a few pictures.

It was a good distraction, and although it tired me out, I don’t think it did me any harm, and it definitely distracted me for a while.

The sun came out and there was a rainbow in the fountain

The “Lady of the Lake” (the proper name of the sculpture is “The Fisherman’s Daughter” but she’s the lady to most of us) still holds court, and still has her head, it was missing in the water for a number of years before the refurbished her as part of the park renovation just before it’s 100 year anniversary celebration

I took a few shots in the conservatory:

The begonias outside were so pretty, I just couldn’t resist:

The rest of the photos are available here:

Or as a slideshow

I’m going to get to bed early tonight and hope that this stupid fever finally breaks tomorrow.

They laying around being sick is not restful, it’s stressful.

~L

Mood: Crappy

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My mother is pissed at her neighbors, pissed at her friends and pissed at me over the police being called.

They can not legally force entry.

She has had the phone off the hook all day (and who knows, maybe all night)

I appreciate all the suggestions of calling different agencies, it’s been done.

She is a master manipulator and a bald faced lair.

I found out yesterday from her neighbor that when she had the severe edema (swelling for those not up on medical terminology) it was all the way up to her waist (why her heart didn’t stop completely I don’t know) She told the doctor that is “just happened a day or so ago” and never let them see how far up it was.

She knew she was diabetic, and she’d go on crazy crash diets to get her blood sugar down just before her appointments so that her blood sugar would test out OK.

She has a mass on her kidney that she refuses to have looked at (she’s had cancer twice and doesn’t want to go through that kind of treatment again)

She was working in a law office up until she finally went in for surgery.

She is as sharp as a tack, knows that she can not be declared unable to care for or make decisions for herself and that there is no implied consent. (and did I mention that she’s a charmer and manipulative?)

Shes’ not stupid and has brought every bit of this on herself by refusing to take her medications (I begged and pleaded with her to take her blood pressure medication when I was in my 20s as a paramedic telling her how people who don’t have strokes and end up in extended care facilities having their diapers changes and being fed through a tube in their nose)

The only reason she agreed to the surgery earlier this year is because she hoped she’d die on the operating table (she told this to both me and her surgeon)

She won’t go to the doctor or let anyone in to her home because she KNOWS that she will not be allowed to live alone in her filthy (she’s a hoarder) mobile home. She doesn’t want anyone in there and doesn’t want to be put in a home.

I’ve dropped everything and flown/drove out there more times that I can count only to have her return to her self destructive lifestyle. (which is a lot more than should be expected given the abuse I put up with as a child)

I’m not doing it any more.

I can’t make her want to live.

I can’t make her take care of herself.

I can try to not let it make me physically ill again (trust me, this brings back a lot of my childhood/abuse issues) and not end up like her. (and I’m most certainly not going down there, break into her house and potentially have a criminal record that will lose me my job)

Unless she suddenly decides that she has something to live for (not likely) I expect that she will be dead (either intentionally or unintentionally) by this time next week.

It’s what she wants.

~L

Mood: resigned

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Today was the day.

It was the day of my “big bonk”.

Luckily, said “big bonk” did not result in my ending up being medivaced off of the island. (and it very well could have)

Today was the “Chilly Hilly” bike ride. 33 miles of hilly, island riding (including a ferry ride over to Bainbridge Island from Seattle) in what is usually, crappy weather.

Here is the satelite data downloaded from my Garmin. (only half of the ride which I will explain later in the post)

If you are viewing this via LiveJournal or RSS feed where the map and track don’t show correctly, just click on the link that says “view larger map”.

View Larger Map

I haven’t slept a full night in longer than I can remember, due to job and mom stress. I’ve been sleeping better the last couple of nights (sans pharmaceuticals), but nothing close to 8 hours.

In addition to the weeks and weeks of stress from every directions, we had a warm up in weather and the trees are tying to kill us (specifically, Birch and Cedar are spewing pollen) and I’ve had horrible sinus headaches that have progressed to migraines.

When you have migraines, you really can’t eat, because even the thought of food makes you want to vomit.

So setting up the story, we have weeks and weeks of nearly unbearable stress, no sleep topped off by three days of not being able to eat.

Yeah, that’s a recipe for disaster….

But I actually felt human when I woke up this morning, so the icky boy and I headed up to Seattle to catch the ferry.

I’ve lived here 10 ½ years and have never been on a Washington State Ferry. I’ve been on Canadian ferries (Eh?) to go back and fourth to Victoria BC, but never a Washington State ferry.

Today was the day; we boarded the MV Tacoma (how cool is that,my first WA state ferry is named after the town I live in?) and headed out to the island with thousands of our closest friends. (you can tell by the bags under my eyes that I’m sick, I just didn’t bother to look this morning; I had no business doing this ride)

We hit the first ferry run (because that’s just what you “do” on this ride) and were greeted by rain (again) when we pulled in to Eagle Harbor on the island.

We met my triathlon buddy Gene and his friend’s nephew on the boat

as well as Michael from the Tacoma REI store

We had to deal with crowds and poor (and non-existent) cycling etiquette for the first few miles of the ride, but I was happy to hang back and let things thin out.

I was feeling pretty good during the first part of the ride.

About 1/3 of the way, I started getting dizzy from low blood sugar. We were about three miles from Battlefield Park where there was a food stop, and a baked potato (with lots of cheese) with my name on it.

I was dizzy to the point of not being able to stand when we got there, and I told Tom and Michael that I had to go sit down.

I snarfed my potato, got some cliff shot drink and ate a package and a half of cliff shots.

We ran into Leo doing his ride ref thing. (and stuffing his face with disgusting, pork like product)

He went over to give Tom (he’d seen his picture) crap and tell him that his girlfriend was “in custody” and “found in the bushes with a bottle of whisky and someone underage”. I think it came out more like, I was on a backboard, which kinda freaked him out (even though he’d seen me 2 minutes prior)

Tom got very concerned for about a second, then thought about it, looked at him, and said, “Oh, you must be Leo.”

We also ran into Claire.

I still didn’t feel quite right after the stop, but everyone was getting ready to leave.

I couldn’t get up the hill just out of the park.

That’s when I plopped my butt down next to a telephone pole and said, I can’t ride, I can’t even stand up, I’m done.

I told Tom to go finish the ride and he responded stubbornly (what a shock eh?) “I’m not leaving you when you don’t feel well.>

I actually called the “emergency number” on the ride map and took a ride in the SAG wagon. I convinced Tom to go finish the ride.

I sat in the park for about an hour (which is about how long it took me to get my heart rate down) waiting for him to finish. The sun actually peeked out which made it a pretty nice place to hang out.

I saw Gary finish (he didn’t get my text message when I was at the first rest stop) and chatted with him a bit (he was too fast to get a picture of) and then ran into Ric again.

We all hung out for a while and then hit the 2:05 ferry back to the mainland.

Tom and I went and sat in the hot tub, but I wasn’t up for staying for dinner (I did grab and eat a burrito on the way home)

I got home, loaded up my Garmin data and discovered that my heart rate was at 215 when I decided I had to stop (or risk crashing and hurting someone else) and took the ride back.

Holy Crap!!!

My Maximum heart rate (not adjusted for being an athlete) is supposed to be 173. I was running at almost 35 bmp above my max. which roughly translates to 124% of my max. (you’re only supposed to train to 90% and then for short times)

heart rate charts don’t even go up that high. (not even for youngins’)

I’m lucky I stopped when I did, or I might have been medivaced off the island or worse.

Stress, sleep deprivation, low blood sugar, wonky electrolytes = bad news on a hard ride.

I felt like a big weenie for calling for a SAG wagon.

Until I got home and saw my heart rate. Now I feel smart and lucky to be sitting here.

It was nice to ride the ferry, see friends and do the riding I did.

The rest of the picture are available here.

Or they can be viewed as a slide show here.

~L

Mood: really REALLY tired

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Before I commence with WTF Wednesday, I can finally spill one of the huge stressors that I’ve been having to stay quiet about. (part of the reason I haven’t been sleeping, have been sick and have had excruciating back and neck pain)

In addition to everything going on with my Mom (and the childhood trauma it brought out)

Things were going on at work.

I don’t blog about work. It’s just not a smart thing to do in this day and age.

But when there is a press release, it’s not a secret and I’m not going to say anything that isn’t public knowledge. (and I’m actually going to say less than that)

I’ve been living under the constant fear of layoffs, knowing they were going to happen for several weeks now.

I knew that they would be today as of yesterday morning, which I wasn’t technically supposed to know, but it’s hard to be in the part of the company I’m in and not know what’s going down even if people are keeping their secrets)

I spent most of yesterday wanting to barf and wasn’t able to tell anyone why.

We watched Facebook updates and IMs from and about friends who didn’t believe it would happen as they got the news.

Today sucked, it sucked hard.

It was damn painful.

I, and my team were spared, (this time)

I somehow hoped that I would feel more relieved than I do.

~L

Mood: Not Feeling Better

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I will be posting WTF Wednesday, a bit late today, but I will post it.

I just don’t have it in me right now and don’t have enough time on my break anyway because it’s been one crap fest of a day and I haven’t gotten squat done (at least I’m not alone in that)

I will also finally be able to explain the part of my stress and sleeplessness over the last several weeks that I couldn’t allude to before.

Later…

~L

Mood: Twitchy

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The good is that my mother agreed to go into the skilled nursing facility.

The only reason I believe her is because I could hear the woman from Kaiser in the background talking on her phone making the arrangements. (and if she backs out, her friends will take care of that)

This is good because I won’t have to worry about her falling, not eating, drinking alcohol, not taking her meds, etc… She will have to follow doctor’s orders and work to get better if she wants out of there.

It seems that I may be able to finally relax on that front, at least for a while.

There is something else that I can’t even allude to that has been weighing heavily for several weeks now, which should come to a head tomorrow (or so the scuttlebutt says; and other indicators would lead me to that conclusion). It’s hard not to be able to write about it, but that’s just the way it is.

For good or bad, it should be over with, if not tomorrow, by the end of the week.

I will not likely sleep (again) tonight (even with the stupid Ambien)

The icky boy invited me over for dinner, wine, hot tub and “other comforts” since I wasn’t going to sleep anyway.

See Ya…

Maybe I’ll have less than sucky news tomorrow.

~L

Mood: Twitchy

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Everything else (both at and outside of work) aside.

It was a weird day.

After multiple strange communications; voice mail, email, alerts I asked, “Is it a full moon?”

Sure enough, the full moon is tonight.

We got mooned. (in the most literal sense of the word)

The universe showed us her ass and wiggled it in our faces.

In other less than subtle references to butts, I froze my mine off today.

I’ve been pretty darn distracted over the last few weeks and wasn’t paying attention to the weather forecast.

It’s butt cold out.

I was wishing that I’d paid attention and worn long underwear, a hat and gloves on the train platform this afternoon.

It snowed today (not exactly where I live but around the sound) and it’s forecast to snow here in the wee hours of the morning. That should make for an interesting commute tomorrow.

I got home and realized that I’d forgotten to turn my heater on after I turned it off to use the microwave this morning.

Yeah baby; a freezing apartment on a freezing day after a hard day and freezing my ass off. It doesn’t get much better than that. (uh… yeah… that was sarcasm)

I also realized that I had forgotten to take my Claratin (allgery meds) this morning (yes, some beastly plants are spewing pollen right now) oh, and my birth control pill which also helps with peri
menopause-there’s nothing quite like sleep deprivation, stress, allergies and stupid induced hormonal imbalance.

I ran some errands after work, picked up some nachos, came home and made a margarita (or two)

I am full of nachos and margaritas.

In a few minutes, I will take my Ambien, turn off my phone, take a bath and refuse to look at emails that reference things that make my angry/guilty/dysfunctional.

Something “snapped’ in me after the last lie. (which was so heinous it was sent to me via a third party)

Part of me died and part of me realized that I DO have to take care of myself if I want to be any good to anyone else.

If anyone thinks I’m an asshole for that.

Too damn bad; they have no bloody clue.

~L

Mood: Meh

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Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

Life Goes On

It’s been an interesting last 24 hours.

But first, some serious comic relief, courtesy of Comedy Central and Popfiend on LiveJounral

COOKIE MONSTER (watch all the way though)

Back to “real life” (which is not as much fun)

I didn’t believe my mother when she said that she would be going into surgery on Saturday.

First, I don’t know of any hospitals that do anything but emergency surgery on a Saturday.

Second, She’s been so incredibly stoned on Morphine (which although she has a history of alcoholism was appropriate if not for pain due to her leg but to decrease the load on her heart)

Third, She’s a liar.

Is it any wonder that I have a difficult time trusting people?

I called the hospital yesterday and first her line was busy; then they told me she wasn’t on the 4th floor anymore.

She was (allegedly) downstairs in the CCU.

The CCU said she was in recovery.

I couldn’t get a hold of anyone in recovery.

After about an hour, and lots of transfers, I was able to find someone to tell me that she was IN surgery and was expected to be in the CCU (with or without a stop in recovery) in about two hours.

Someone was supposed to frikkin call me when the surgery was scheduled.

I was pissed.

Due to general stress, I only got about one hour’s sleep on Friday night.

I was pissed and didn’t feel well.

After a really bad trip to the store where I was cut in front of in line by rude people, blocked in every aisle by clueless people and rain into with a cart by an inattentive woman… seriously she hit me in the ass (for a brief moment, I wondered what would happen if I stood in the middle of the store and screamed) I got a call from the vascular surgeon.

She survived the surgery and the next three days (from yesterday/Saturday) are critical.

He did do it on a Saturday (did I mention that no one bothered to frikkin’ call me?) because he needed to do it as soon as the heparin was out of her blood stream so that she would clot (she was given that because she tried to signer herself out of the hospital on Monday before her friends and I leaned on her to have the surgery)

I let him know about the alcoholism (so that they could carefully wean her off of the morphine which is highly addictive)

I thanked him for what he’d done, and indicated concern that she did not want to get better and thought she was really hoping shed die on the operating table.

He said, “Well, that’s what she told me.” (at least she was honest with him)

At that very moment, I felt guilty for talking her into the surgery.

She doesn’t want to get better, she wants to placate everyone long enough to go home and die a painful death of self neglect.

This surgeon came in on a Saturday and spent time, energy and resources on a woman that doesn’t want to get well and won’t cooperate with recovery. (no way will she agree to a skilled nursing facility for rehab)

Put a fork in me, I’m done giving a shit.

You know what? I didn’t ask to be born.

I didn’t ask to be raised in an abusive alcoholic household.

I didn’t ask to be lied to my entire life.

Is it any wonder that I have relationship issues?

Is it any wonder that I don’t have the same feelings/relationship with my mother that “normal” people do and that I feel guilty for that? (and her friends probably think I’m a selfish little bitch)

Feh!

I called the CCU last night to get a status update.

She was alive, awake and charming the socks off of everyone.

They took a phone in there this morning so that I could take to her.

She sounds better than she did before the surgery.

I tried to convince her to just do what they tell her and she will get better (the surgeon had not yet talked to her so she hadn’t been informed that it “went well”)

I told her not to worry about open heart surgery as that was not on the table and that she’d be taking heart medication and might have one “outpatient” procedure. (not going into the defibrillator procedure with her now)

Of course, she focused on the negative and yelled, “They aren’t taking my foot! I won’t allow it!” (note this is not a senile woman, this is someone who is highly intelligent and was working as a paralegal up until she went into the hospital)

I explained that if she did what she was supposed to and healed up from this surgery that wouldn’t be an issue.

She said, “Well you didn’t say that was not on the table”.

“Mom; that’s because we were talking about your heart, not your leg.”

“Well no one told me that.”

“Well, you were unconscious at the time so they had to talk to me.”

I thought she might have decided to live.

I thought she might cooperate.

But then I got a message from her boss.

“Your mom called today and told me to tell you that there is nothing wrong with her heart.”

What a load of codswallup.

Oh wait, make that BULLSHIT.

The only doctor that was going to talk to her today (Sunday) was her vascular surgeon and I ‘m not even sure that he did (the poor guy deserves at least one day off) because he didn’t call me).

The cardiologist already told me what was up and her heart is most certainly NOT fine. She will need medication and a defibrillator implant.

So either my mother’s damaged heart (damaged by years of neglect and refusal to take care of herself/follow doctors orders) miraculously healed and her cardiologist made a Sunday visit because it was such a huge miracle.

Or my mother is (still) a manipulative lair.

I did not sign up for this shit.

In an effort to end this on a positive note, here’s a “Two Lumps” cartoon.

~L

Mood: Fed Up

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My mother’s surgery has been scheduled for tomorrow.

They wanted another day to let the Heparin clear out of her system. It’s good to have blood that is capable of clotting when one is about to undergo surgery.

I appreciate all the thoughts, good wishes, magic, energy, candles and prayers from whatever sources and traditions they come from. (it’s all good “juice” from the same source to me)

*just a note on such things.

Although you are all free to send/pray for whatever you want, those in my realm of spirituality often hold a belief that “best possible outcome” is a better idea than violating someone’s free will and wishes.

For example, praying for someone who wants to die, to live… (it’s a good idea on paper, but perhaps not so much in practice)

When I was a paramedic I often had to transport old, sick and dying people from extended care facilities to the emergency room.

I’ve had them literally beg me to let them die because they were tired and in pain. You want to see real tragedy? Watch a person being artificially kept alive and stuffed out of sight/out of mind in a nursing home and subjected to painful and degrading procedure after procedure when they are tired, in pain and want to just be let go with dignity (and depending on their beliefs to go to heaven or to be with their departed loved ones).

Let me tell you, after that experience I don’t want to be kept alive if I’m in that condition and I promised my mother that I wouldn’t force it on her (I may have issues with her, but I made a promise and I intend to keep it)

This surgery carries a 20-30% risk of mortality for her; maybe less if she’s a day stronger, maybe more if she really wants to die. (which is what I suspect)

The point is, you can’t make someone want to live.

A lot of bad things can happen in surgery that don’t outright kill a person, but damage their brain, kidneys, etc….

In a perfect world, the surgery would go well, she wouldn’t lose her leg or die of sepsis, they would then address the heart issues, including the implanted pacemaker and put her on a plan to manage her diabetes.

In this perfect world, she would then start to feel better, follow doctor’s orders and live out the rest of her years in peace.

This is not a perfect world and the reality is not so rosy (or even likely)

For those who think I should rush down there right now against her wishes.

I appreciate your thoughts and the fact that you care.

But you don’t know enough about us or our situation to determine what is best. (and the stuff you see in the movies about grand reconciliations on deathbeds and “happily ever after” even into the afterlife; doesn’t generally happen)

The fact is that she is so damaged from her upbringing and I am so damaged from mine, that we don’t have a normal mother-daughter relationship. We’ve tried, but the bonds never formed quite right (they didn’t for she and her mother either).

These things can not be forced and my trying to rush down there against her will and “fix” things will do more harm that good. She’ll be stressed, I’ll be stressed… (and providing she survives this, she’ll never tell me the truth again because I broke a promise)

We have accepted the way things are for some time now and work with what we have.

Some of us find more healing and peace with chosen family than blood family.

You don’t have to agree with any of this, but I do ask that you please respect my feelings and don’t start a debate, fight, disagreement or try to sway me to your way of thinking.

I already feel guilty and like crap for a number of reasons that I won’t go into here.

I’m an emotional mess and am having physical symptoms as well. I can’t sleep properly even with Ambien, my back and neck are knotted up and painful and I’m pretty sure I’m coming down with some sort of cold/flu bug.

To be a bit selfish here, between that and the childhood trauma this has unleashed which I will make a counseling appointment for) I just don’t need to be argued with or given any crap by anyone right now.

For those who have continued to give your unwavering love and support without judgment, thank you.

~L

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I just got off the phone with my Mom.

I think everyone knows that this usually upsets me and why, so I just won’t go there. (if you’re half as tired of reading it as I am writing about it; that’s pretty bad)

It’s “just the facts” today.

I (and the cardiologist and vascular surgeon and her friends who I am in collusion with) have convinced her to have the leg surgery.

This is the bypass where they will pull an artery from somewhere else into the leg to bypass the blocked area (which couldn’t be opened with the catheter procedure) to try to get blood flow back to the foot/leg.

She still has no pulse in the foot/leg and if she does not do this, the foot and leg below the knee will die and she will either die of the sepsis or lose the leg up to the knee anyway.

There is a 20-30 percent chance that she will not survive this surgery. (I suspect that she’s hoping she doesn’t wake up and thinks this might be the easy way out)

Sadly, these are the best odds she has at this point.

The amputation would have a higher mortality rate. (she won’t allow it anyway)

Doing nothing has a 100% mortality rate (in addition to being a terrible and painful way to die)

She doesn’t yet know when the surgery will be scheduled, so I’ve asked that someone call me when it is.

If she comes through the surgery, she will have 5-7 days of recovery from that, and then will need to have a defibrillator implant put in.

The recovery time from the surgery (and likely only an extra day for the defibrillator), buys myself and her friends (one of whom used to work for Adult Social Services and is researching options for help at home, ramps showers, funding, etc…) some time to make arrangements for when she is released.

~L