Don't Let It Break Your Heart

Generally I wouldn't write a blog post about this sort of thing, but perhaps it's best to get it off my chest than trying to avoid it. It's easier for me to work through writing anyway, so here it goes.

Back in early April, while my parents were coming back from a spring break trip to visit family in Indiana, my mom had a heart attack. Fortunately enough they were back in Minnesota when it hit and somehow (miraculously, perhaps) they were able to find a clinic to stop at, where she was airlifted to Abbot Heart Hospital. I'd never visited anyone in the hospital before this and it is the strangest feeling, especially when it is one of your parents. She had three stents placed in her heart and found has a heart condition that is hereditary (and it's likely I have it too) called hypertropic cardiomyopathy that causes higher risk of heart attacks (yes, I like using big words). It was really serious, really scary, and really shocking, but my mom made a completely recovery. I spent my Easter there, playing Clue with my parents and watching the Twins lose their season opener and, while it was a little strange, it was okay. My mother was doing really well and, with medication, diet, and cardio rehab, things were great.

Then over Memorial weekend, another completely unrelated event sent my mom to the hospital. She had an umbilical hernia that was causing blockage and she needed immediate surgery. Again, it was serious, it was scary, and it was surprising, but she's out of the hospital as of Saturday and doing just fine. It's all a bit of a shock, made all the more surprising by how few health problems we've had in our family before. Sure, we have a long history of health problems (I have a great uncle who died at 10 of a heart attack; if you look up stuff on the heart condition that my family has you'll understand why) but nothing that's immediately affected either of my parents. It's been kind of rough.

But I can't let it get me down. Things could be worse. I'm just so grateful that my mom is such a strong woman and has dealt with all this marvelously. She amazes me.

A Christmas Carol (and money murmurings)

Ah, feeling much less zombie-like today. I'm refusing to take pain killers, because I'm a freak, so I can feel the dull ache of where my wisdom teeth should be. And somehow that makes me feel better. Or maybe because I'm refusing to let myself sit on the couch and watch bad TV and feel sorry for myself. I am rather shocked by the fact that Vicodin does absolutely nothing to me. Seriously, I took some last night, hoping to knock myself into a pain-free state of unconsciousness. And nothing happened. I felt relaxed but my jaw still ached and I felt... well, as crummy as I had before. So I've no idea why people find Vicodin so addicting - it certainly does nothing to me.

That being said, I'm going to write an obligatory Christmas post. Because I had a totally rockin' Christmas. It was just with my parents, as it always is now - the drive back to Indiana during winter is a bad idea, considering that snow storms like to spring up out of no where (even if we did have a brown Christmas this year, Indiana still gets some crazy weather). But honestly, it's better with just my parents. No awkward "I don't know what to get you since I don't know you" instances. No feelings of injustice when relatives are not wowed by my academic prowess or year of accomplishments and would rather chat about small-town gossip. No pissed-off Mom and Dad spending the next few weeks being upset with their relatives or in-laws for being socially awkward and self-centered. So, really, staying home is much more in the spirit of the holidays.

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This year, for I think the first time in my entire life, I got everything I asked for on my Christmas list. Which is crazy - I mean, I asked for some crazy stuff - TV seasons, a bunch of books. No fancy electronics, but fairly expensive things. It's not like my parents have failed to fulfill my Christmas lists before. It's just that this one had lost of "optional" things on it - and I got those things too. I am now in possession of the entire released seasons of Torchwood (no Miracle Day because it's not out in the US yet) and Season 1 of Doctor Who (which I am forcing my parents to watch and they actually LIKE it. And I no longer have to keep trying and failing to describe what a Dalek is). I also am now in possession of enough John Barrowman CDs and books to officially be considered nuts. And my parents surprised me with nice pair of Celtic-style earrings. They know me too well :D It's sort of strange for me to get all of this stuff. I mean, I am an only child and thus may be on the verge of being spoiled. But, in a shitty economy, it's weird to see that money - at least for my parents - isn't a problem (my own expenses, of course, is another story). My dad admits to denying things for years because they don't want to buy on credit, but rather be able to buy with the money they have in the bank. And now that they are growing older, they aren't as worried about splurging and going all out for Christmas. I don't have a new iPod or a new phone or anything like that (mainly because I don't WANT one). But I do have a lot of nice things my parents didn't have to get me that I could have lived without - but got anyway. I feel like our gifts have gotten more expensive, more refined... and I don't know what that means. Yes, my parents have a lot more money now than they did when we first moved to Minnesota. They have a lot more money this year than they did five years ago. And it's a weird sort of situation I'm not used to. I mean, I spent two years of my life in a mobile home while my dad was in grad school. We weren't poor; we just didn't want to spend money we didn't need to when we had a place to stay (the lake home which belonged to my grandmother) while my dad was in school. I guess money has been on my mind a lot this year because of different expenses associated with apartment living and learning what my family's income is and with the OWSers screaming for the 1% to share their assets. And I don't know where I fit in this picture anymore. As an independent student with a very low income, well-off parents and a simultaneous desirous yet tight-fisted nature, it's hard for me to know where I stand. But I'm totally digressing right now...

Of course, Christmas isn't all about the getting but also about the giving. Which, despite my stress about getting something fabulous for my parents, worked out easier than I thought it would. I got my dad a nice tie and a set of whisky glasses. And I got my mom some decorative throw pillows and a nice purse (from Macy's - I actually found an affordable, nice purse at Macy's. It made my life).

But overall, things just felt... Christmas-y this year. This time of year brings out the Anglophile in me (I blame being in London for New Years in my sophomore year of high school. And J.K Rowling. And the British just being epic when it comes to celebrating Christmas) and, considering my absorption of British culture, there was plenty of that around me this year. But even going to Christmas Eve mass stimulated it - they had a Renaissance choir that sang throughout the mass. And yet... it's more than just feeling like things are more picturesque for Christmas (despite the lack of snow). My attitude is better in general. I feel more forgiving, more hopeful. More me. And it's a great way to end the year. Yes, I've been grumpy and blue for the last few days because I've had four teeth ripped out of my head. But overall, I'm feeling good. A fantastic way to end a rather exciting but tumultuous year. Which reminds me, I should start making my list of New Year's resolutions - and this year, they are going to ROCK.

Another Loss at Day's End

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Today I found out that David Shouse, one of my dad's closest friends and former bosses, died. He had ALS and was predicted by doctors to die years ago - but he didn't. He had one of the greatest attitudes of anyone I've ever met, even after he was confined to a wheelchair and was paralyzed from the neck down. I hadn't seen him for a few years, but I knew that he was nearly completely paralyzed and unable to speak. My dad did send this email to me on November 10th that David had sent out:

Well, a 5 day hospital turned into 19 days in ICU and acute care. Patti [his wife] lived there for over a week, reading my lips for the staff, checking the meds they gave me and learning about the ventilator system.

We are now home and it is much better. Patti does a great job handling all aspects of the vent. Courtney [his daughter] was also trained so she can provide some backup when she is available. We will have to find someone to help on a regular basis so Patti can go to the store, etc.

It was a bit overwhelming at first. Our routines are complicated by having to maneuver all the vent gear without unplugging something, like my breathing tubes! Check the attached photo for an idea of all the new stuff. Day by day, we are figuring it out.

Courtney was on fall break, so she stayed with us when we first got home. Patti's brother, George, then came from DC for over a week. He was a huge help in figuring out solutions. He got my computer to mount on my chair, plus a dozen other household chores that were long overdue.

All in all, we are making progress. Patti is very good at reading my lips, that's a good thing because we decided yesterday that I will not get the type of trach that allows me to speak. I don't have enough air volume available in my lungs. Oh well....

all for now, (this took me 3 days to type!).

david

I cried when is saw this. Partly out of sadness that such a good man could be so ill. And partly because he's one of the most incredible people I've ever met. To be this positive in such a situation is mind-blowing.

My parents and I had literally just been talking about him over my birthday or Thanksgiving. Without David, what my life is now wouldn't be possible. Seriously. He was the one who offered the job to my dad that brought us to Minnesota and changed everything. I know it may sound strange, but in a sort of butterfly affect way, this one little thing really did change my entire life. By moving here, I went to a different school, got a better education, decided to go to college, had the chance for so many different opportunities (musically, academic, travel) that I would have never gotten otherwise. One small thing made all the difference.

And while my heart is breaking that this wonderful, fantastic man is gone from our world, I want to just thank him for everything he did for me and my family. It really means a lot to me, and he will be missed greatly.

21

It's happened... I'm officially 21 years old. It's incredible. Actually, yesterday was just incredible in general. Here's the basic run-down of my big, fat twenty-first birthday:

Around eleven o'clock, I started getting ready for my parents to come pick me up. I got a phone call from [X], with [the artist] yelling in the background, both wishing me a happy day. It was a slightly awkward conversation because I got the feeling [X] didn't quite know what to say, but I didn't care - I was glad she called. Then I realized it was snowing - oh, joy of joys! - and my hopes and dreams and prayers for snow on my birthday were answered. Except that I think maybe I'd been hoping a little too much... we got quite a bit more snow than I was expecting. But win - total win!

Due to the sudden onslaught of snow, my parents were a little later than expected, but no matter. We headed over to Brit's Pub, where I had two Strongbows, talked way too much about Scotland, and ate Scotch eggs. Then we ambled over to The Local, had Irish coffee and fish and chips (and got carded - for the first and last time of the day. I was rather shocked. Only one out of three waitresses thought I looked younger than 21? I was surprised. "Are you telling me that I could have tried this long ago and not gotten carded?" I asked my dad. "Probably," he replied. "I can tell by body language - waitresses always treat you like you're older." I must admit this was a bit anti-climatic. Oh well.) Then we crossed the street to The Newsroom, which used to have really good food, but now it was just kind of mediocre. My crab mac and cheese was far too salty. And I made myself content with water because my mom ordered a margarita, didn't even like how it was mixed and discovered it was $11. Shit.

So, to make up for that blip, we went to O'Donnovans, another Irish pub, had another Irish coffee and got free samples of this cake-flavored vodka by Three Olives. Now, flavored vodka always kind of sounded gross to me. BUT THIS WAS FANTASTIC. Mixed with pineapple juice and amaretto, it made this drink that tasted like pineapple upside-down cake. It was really brilliant. So my dad ordered a drink called coffee cake, that included the flavored vodka, Bailey's Irish cream, and coffee (and whipped cream. Absolutely has to have whipped cream). The bartender accidentally made a shot as well, so we got two drinks for the price of one and shared them. My dad then told the girls doing the promoting that it was my birthday, so I got my picture taken with them and a free tiara, which I then proceeded to wear until we left the bar, when I decided that I was tired and a total light-weight and it was time to go home. So home I went to discover what present my parents had bought me (a gift set of two shot glasses and Jameson Irish whiskey - for the win :D ) and to watch SNL (and a brilliant performance by Florence + The Machine) with [Львица].

Sadly I had a stomach ache for most of the night and a better part of this morning (too much food, too much alcohol, too much sweet stuff, too much fun) but other than that it was absolutely perfect. It was the best birthday ever. And it's made me feel that things are only going to get better from here. Thanks to everyone for their warm birthday wishes and gifts - the kindness and generosity I saw made me all warm and fuzzy and felt so loved. I have the best friends and family in the world :)

Brevity

When I was little, my parents were amazed how much I talked after school got out, because I was quite during the day but had loads to say when I got home. I used to say I had too many words in my mouth.

That's apparently still a problem. Sorry about the longs posts... I'll try to amend that in the future.

But no promises. I'm still a wordy little weirdo :D

Family Snapshot

My cousin got married today. Well, I presume he did, because I couldn't actually attend the ceremony.  They changed the date due to getting a location they wanted for cheap right after my parents and I had planned on going (it would have been over fall break for my mom's school so she wouldn't have to take off work). But the sudden, almost last minute change threw us all off and prevented us from making the 11 hour trek down there for an event that would be... well, more than a little awkward.

You see, my cousin - I'll call him [T] - is my age, 20. Actually, I'm nearly 21 and he's five months younger. Last year... or more like a year and a half ago, his girlfriend found out she was pregnant. So at 19 he became a father. They have an adorable little girl but she'll be raised in a strange situation - neither one of them act like parents and, according to my grandmother and aunt, [T]'s girlfriend refuses to learn how to cook and fed the baby formula until she was over a year old. They were planning on getting married next summer but then suddenly they changed their plans when [T]'s girlfriend found out that her sister was getting married too - and she had to get married first. So, in a sudden whirl-wind, they've been planning their wedding since the spring. And today was the big day.

Flu-ish Delusions

Here's how you know when you're sick - your dreams start taking on strange topics like this:

1) I dreamed that Michele Bachman was talking on the Greta Van Susteren show on Fox News and said that how Hilary Clinton and Michelle Obama were talking in some clip was like "sodomy, like illicit sexual activity" and then there was this huge controversy that she was calling Clinton and Michelle Obama lesbians. I woke up in a cold sweat, laughing and coughing at the sheer ridiculousness of this dream.

2) I dreamed I was walking downtown trying to meet up with [Львица] who was at the same restaurant as [X] and a bunch of people from the Scotland trip. It was late at night and I was walking with my parents, I think, and we were in some part of Minneapolis that doesn't exist but I thought I knew. There was some restaurant we passed by that I'd always wanted to go to but we realized it was on fire and that there were a bunch of cop cars and fire trucks out there and a bunch of people gawking at it. Then I realized that the buildings next to it were also on fire. I got worried and decided we should get out of there so my parents and I scampered away. We were some distance away when we noticed the fire getting bigger and suddenly this huge explosion occurred. We got thrown to the ground but got up quickly. We could see that all three buildings - which were like twenty stories each - were totally gone. We started sprinting away and I found the restaurant where [Львица] was at to share with her my action movie-like experience.

Well, at least my fever is mostly gone. That should mean "normal" dreams tonight. Not that any of the dreams I have are normal.

Good point, passive-aggressive cartoon. Good point.

Starstruck

To continue the post from yesterday, on things that make me happy...

5) Awesome sexy actors: So I'm going to sound like a ridiculous fan girl but I can't help it. I'm a cinephile, I'm a girl and I'm an American - we love our movie stars. And yet none of my favorite actors are American. Or really super famous. Or people my friends would have at the top of their "list.” I'm too disorganized to have a real list. Especially as my favorite movies have fluctuated a lot of the years. It seems to have stabilized after college. And now that I have favorite movies, I've finally advanced to having favorite actors. This sounds weird, but I just never really equated actors and hotness until I was probably… fifteen. Yeah. I know. I went to Catholic school, several different Catholic schools – that’s the only thing I can think of that delayed that realization. I mean, I didn’t know who the Spice Girls were until Spice World was already out and everyone had seen it twenty times, because no one at my old school were talking about them. Or maybe I was just a very unobservant, un-culture vulturey youth. Thus why I've berated myself for being a freak; I am not – I’m just different. Stubbornly different.

Love and Loss, or: too much info about my personal life, Part 1

I’m making myself write this or I’ll never do it and I’ll regret it. Not because I think anyone cares but because this is my modern way of journaling and it’s not healthy for me to keep a bunch of thoughts like this piling up in my noggin, which is cramped for space as it is. And it is a huge cultural study – one I’m actually really interested in *cough, probably because it involves myself, cough*. So here goes nothing.

This starts with another blog for class that I wrote months ago (which stemmed from something I said in the blog about White Noise, actually). I’d been thinking a lot about what it’s like to be single in America and how much it fucking sucks. Not only is there an edge of loneliness to it, there’s this whole idea that you’re screwing up your life because you haven’t gotten a boyfriend or a girlfriend yet. And I especially noticed this when one of my friends from high school got her first boyfriend. As I’d said before regarding this topic, this runs the risk of sounding like a Dr. Phil show or me psychoanalyzing myself (which would both be lame and totally awkward). So I’m going to try very hard not to do that. It’s going to run like this – the first part is going to be a rough rendition of my original blog about capitalism and why that affects me being single (I know, I’m recycling another blog. Give me a break – it was one of the hardest I’ve ever written. Except for this one). The rest is going to be my reflections and how it’s gotten weirder. It’s gonna be long, so hold on for a bumpy ride.

I.

My friend, who I will refer to as [X] (because I can’t use “her” a thousand times, I can’t think of any girl’s names that start with [X], so no hints at who I’m talking about and, even though not many of my friends read this and if they do, it’ll be easy for them to figure out who I’m referring to, I’d rather be safe than sorry and at least show that I’m not trying to bitch about people online. It’s my way of working through feelings – and cultural concepts. Okay, I’m just a bitch, I admit it. But I’m working on it)… anyway, [X] is nice person (I emphasize she’s nice because, despite anything disparaging I say about her, you the reader should remember that I am biased from knowing her and not without faults myself. Thus it’s a hell of a lot easier for me to point out her downfalls). [X] was my best friend in high school and we bonded over a mutual appreciation for sarcasm, English literature and a sort of solidarity from both being only children. However, now that we’re in college, things are weird, possibly because we both have communication issues (she’s never online the same time I am, I apparently don’t know how to use a cell phone, she won’t really message me first unless it’s really important, and I don’t know how to begin conversations). But then things have gotten really weird.