If it weren't for Cancer..

Hard to believe that next month it will be 19 years since my diagnosis with Ovarian cancer. It was a week before my 25th birthday and I had no idea that I was about to be smacked in the head with a 2x4. 

So much has happened since then both personally and professionally and even though there are hard times and bad days I cannot help but try to remain hopeful and positive. The truth is I'm living on bonus time. 

I have recently started saying bonus time, because "borrowed" time sounded rather like I'd taken it from someone else and it always made me feel sad when I'd hear of someone else who cancer had taken. I'd wonder why I was spared and they were taken.  I have to believe that on some weird level that someone on the planning committee wasn't done with me yet.  There must be a plan somewhere right?

I won't ever forget the day the doctor came in and gave me the news, telling me how lucky I was to be alive -- they'd lost 3 litres of blood during surgery and by all accounts I could have -- perhaps SHOULD have -- died.

It was the start of a long and sometimes uphill med battle (my life as a guinea pig - many of you have heard me call it) but I'm still here.. so it's all good, right 

Though the med drama is sometimes overwhelming and there are days when I'd like to submit my resignation to somebody - anybody - for the most part we just adjust to what becomes the "new normal" and carry on.  

It's like the words of that Trace Adkins song. . "I'm Just happy to be here"..   

Week of Mom's..

I have a confession to make.  I've never really been a fan of Mother's Day.  

If we're being completely honest, my mother was never really much of an influence in my life -- after running away from home when I was just 10 (my sister had just turned 3), we had sporadic access at best - cameos if you will - at irregular intervals - but most often we had no contact at all.  

Later on in life, I became a stepmom, and though I love the kids dearly and would defy anyone to the death that might claim that after all the years as a full-time custodial stepmom that they weren't also MINE ~  but it was always tough to celebrate the day on a weekend where the kids were typically not home with you.  There were always spoilings before and after though, and I always loved seeing what the kids came up with.  I still have the scrap of paper that our son scrawled a fortune cookie style, I love you Mom on, when he realized that he'd forgotten mother's day and his sister's had both made gifts at school, but "artsy-fartsy" was never his style.  There's a butterfly fridge magnet on my fridge our youngest made in French class that says #1 Mere..  there were blessings..  don't get me wrong..  but they were blessings shrouded by long-standing clouds.. that I found tough to escape.  

At one point in my life, my mother lived just 10 blocks away from me and I couldn't call or contact her.  When we'd get a chance to see her, it was either not mentioned or it was another rendition of the blame game.  It wasn't news to me that my parents didn't get along - all I really wanted to know was why Mom didn't want ME.  Had I done something wrong?  How could I fix it?  No answers ever came.  Apparently she who has started over, can just move on and forget about it.  Leave the past in the past ~ but for we who were left behind ~ I can't help but feel that we have earned a discussion we've waited our whole lives to hear first-hand.  

Even her departure came in the form of a lie - That morning is engraved on my brain for all eternity.  I remember coming downstairs, and finding my Dad waiting for me in the kitchen.  I thought that was weird, because he was standing next to the spot where Mom normally stood by the coffee pot.  He said Mom wanted to talk to me and pointed in the direction of their room.  Still half asleep I wandered in there to find My mom throwing the contents of her closet and dresser into two of the biggest boxes I had ever seen.  

When she saw me she sat down on the bed and ushered me over.  She was going away for a while - I wanted to know how long - she said a few weeks.   I asked her why she didn't leave some of her things here for when she got back. She told me she didn't know what she would need - another lie.  Before too long my aunt had arrived and Mom and her boxes were gone.  

That day was the beginning of a long series of changes to our world - but one thing was always constant - DAD.  Being a single Dad was no picnic - I often wondered why he stayed with us when so many others would have dropped and run - People could be so cruel.  Transition wasn't easy either and Dad and I often didn't see eye to eye - but whenever something happened good or bad - he was the first person to know about it.  Funny how that works.. 

Mother's Day became a day when my sister and I would call each other and acknowledge the day for each other, even though we couldn't contact the one person we both wanted to.  It also became a day when we'd give thanks to our "Daddy-Mom."  He'd always laugh about it, but I think he recognized that we were looking for a way to make it OK.   In later years, I became a stepmom and Dad would answer the phone and instead of hello, he'd greet me with a Happy Mother Day and giggle because he got to say it before I did.  Oh how I miss that mischeivous giggle.  

We lost Dad last December, and some days it still overwhelms me how someone who was an almost daily part of my life for ALL of my life could just be GONE.  I keep waiitng for someone to tell me that this is a cruel joke and our regularly scheduled programming will resume shortly..  so far it ain't happening. 

We've been going through boxes and storage lately and I keep coming across what I've affectionally dubbed as memories of Dad.  Newspaper clippings, photographs and other trinkets. Some of their meanings obvious, like news clippings of folks from home that I'd recognize.  The postcard with a dozen roses on it that he'd sent me after I made a few phone calls for him -  it became a long standing joke - his standard offer was that he'd send me another dozen roses for doing this or that.  I have a BK Burger too ~  that was my big lunch..  Dad was a real character..  

Sometimes, however, the meaning behind what was sent wasn't quite so obvious, and I'd end up reading obscure articles, or flyers trying to figure why they were "chosen".   There was always a few AOL disks the box - after all I use computers, they must be useful right?  I really came to get a big kick out of parcels from Dad because you just never knew what you were going to find inside.  I always imagined him putting a box or envelope aside and adding things to it until it was full.  I often wondered why he'd spend so much money on a box of what my daughter would call random-ness ~  but I could totally see him laughing to himself as he wrote down the margin of an article, or put his own caption on a photo.  In some ways it was like getting a bit of a glimpse into Dad's day because he'd share snippits of it. 

We lost Dad last December, and sometimes it still doesn't feel real. How could someone so animated and vibrant just cease to exist?  We'd talked almost every day.  When I was going through and packing his things I found a number of mementos he'd saved over the years and I realized that Dad was a lot more marshmallow than we ever knew.  He kept *everything* including the very first poem I'd written him for mother's day and sent in for mother's day tributes to the newspaper, I even came across a couple of letters I'd sent home not long after moving out here some 16 years ago.  The long-stemmed blue roses we'd special ordered a few years ago had also been a real hit.  When you're looking back in the rear view mirror as an adult, so many of those "little things" that our parents did for us seem so much bigger than they did back then.  

The big note to self on this post for me is to cherish every moment you do have with the people that matter. Not the ones that are "supposed" to matter, "Supposed to care" ~ too much time gets lost wishing on what might have been.  It still hurts sometimes, but at least I've grown enough to realize that the absence says way more about them, and much less about me.  I just wish I'd realized it sooner.  

A hand-stamped card I made last year..  :) 

I'm grateful for the love of a great man, and the 3 (not so) little (anymore) bears that he selflessly shared with me -  not to forget sharing his Mom and Dad with me.  After all these years he calls them "our" parents, and jokes that they love me more than him - Ludicrous! but it always makes everyone laugh.  I never miss a chance to tell him how truly fortunate he is to have had that kind of love in his life.  His parents are amazing.  We are truly blessed. 

Whether you celebrate your Mom, or another special person in your life that's doing the "Mom" job ~  give them an extra special hung this weekend.  There are so many out there that only wish they could have your good fortune.  No matter how bad things may seem, there will come a day where there are no more tomorrows and you'll wish you could have just one.  My advice to you is to enjoy your special people while you have them.  Lifetimes don't last nearly long enough! 

Forward to the Annual Pilgramage that is known as the Mother's Day Garden Centre Hop ~  Hope Nana's got her comfy shoes on!  :)

Here , there and everywhere..

Have you ever found yourself sitting in your chair and finding yourself thinking "Everything is awesome, but I still suck?" 

For me, that statement is both true, and somewhat of an over-dramatization of things.  I just get so frustrated when the end of my day comes before the end of my "list" and I so want to get ahead of the 8 ball and watch the rest of the parade come up instead of running behind it so I don't miss it all..  I'm both literally and figuratively exhausted ~ I feel like my brain was entered into some kind of mental olympics without my consent. 

I used to joke that I lived in "Sleepy little Cardinal," which was normally met by amused laughter ~ but the truth is, Sleepy is *GOOD* --  well unless of course you're a teenager looking for something to do..  which I have not been for a great many years..  

A few days ago I told a friend that things were "crazy" lately.  Though that would be the understatement of the century.  I am finding myself with more and more on my plate, and it seems like the sands are running out of the hourglass and onto the floor.  Surely they MUST be, because there are *never* enough hours in the day for everything I want to do.  I question my time management skills on occasion, but upon careful contemplation I realize that's a little like going to a buffet and piling food on a paper plate until it gives way, and blaming the construction of the plate. 

I do it to myself, I know this...  but the tasks just keep on coming.  For the most part I like to think I hang in there alright, but things do fall off the plate on occasion.  The Med-zone "stuffs" seems to be settling down some, but I'm noticing the hernia seems massive lately, and I don't know if it's really heading for it's own postal code or if that's all in my head too.   Have to make myself a note to go for bloodwork in another week or so to see of the vitamin levels and hemoglobin have crawled up out of the basement yet.  Cannot withstand another nasty fall like that last one..   at least I'd rather pass on that, given the opportunity. 

I can't believe that it's been 5 months since Dad passed.  Soon we will celebrate our first Dad's day without him, and still it doesn't feel real.  I have to wonder if it ever will.  I've killed a few well-meaning people cartoon style in my head lately for suggesting that one day it just won't matter anymore.  I just cannot see that.  

The basement renovation is finally coming to and end - at least the recovery from the flood last year part is.  The new laundry room looks A--M-A-Z-I-N-G!!!  
I've never been much of a "yellow" person,  but we chose a light yellow and white cabinets and it's pretty fabulous.  I will have to post photos soon. 

I cannot wait to start getting my Stamps and Paper crafting supplies into their new home in the laundry room.  That cupboard is huge, and the bets are on to see if all of my stamp sets will fit inside -  we will see..  

My ScrapNStamp buddies have been awesome - I cannot wait to show everyone the upgrades to the room and space, and have been priding myself on showing a little more progress on the space every time they come out to play.  

To be fair, I cannot take all of the credit on that one.  Our youngest daughter moved back home a few weeks back and has been helping out with the musical box parade and getting things sorted out.  I don't know what I'd have done without her.  SHE rocks!  <3  By the time we are done,  we'll also have a full inventory of every stamp set, punch, die, tool ETC that I own.   That's gonna be AWESOME!! 

I've been working on class calendars and upcoming events and plotting forward for the next few months.  Great things are coming -  :) 

Epicure has been amazing - not just finding all the new ideas and ways to use different spices and creating new things but the new colleagues I have met are wonderful.  I am ever-amazed at how these little jars seem to magically sell themselves and I reap the rewards.  

We have new pantry clubs starting this month - let me know if you are interested in joining.  We can send your order to you anywhere in Canada :)

EON is keeping me busy, and there are several new projects on the go..  I am proud to be part of the local media team in our area.  SO many fabulous things are going on on the communities and if nobody was here to look for them, I wonder if people would hear about them.   I'd like to think we have a small part in the success of some of these great initiatives by standing on our stools and shouting from the roof tops.. 

Speaking of EON ~ It's Follow Me Friday today! and Wear Friday too..   why not stop by our Facebook page and check it out?  

Click the Image to visit me on Twitter :) 

All in all it's been a very busy - crazy - but exciting time in our world -- and we're still gearing up for summer.  After waiting all winter to get rid of the snow and get to this point,  some might shoot me, but a hibernation down in my Scrappin' cave looks pretty good to me right about now... 

Until next time.. take care!  

30th Anniversary of Terry Fox Marathon of Hope!

Today marks the 30th anniversary of Terry Fox's Marathon of Hope which kicked off April 12, 1980 in Newfoundland.  

His story has always struck a chord with me on a personal level because Terry grew up in Port Coquitlam, B.C.  just a few minutes down the road from where I lived in Coquitlam.  Much later, Terry became an inspiration to me again, as I fought my own battle with Cancer.  I would often tell myself if Terry could run across the country with Cancer I could certainly do (fill in the blank)..    

Our whole area watched the newscasts from that very first day when Terry dipped his right leg in the Atlantic Ocean in Newfoundland.  I remember thinking how neat it was that he was going to transport two large bottles of ocean water back home with him, so that he could pour one of them into the Pacific Ocean when he reached the other side.  Sadly, that day would never come.  

Even in the face of everything, Terry had raised $1.7 Million dollars with his journey thus far; his efforts were the catalyst for a nationwide telethon in support of both he and the Canadian Cancer society which in just 5 hours raised 10 1/2 million dollars!   Among those supporting were $1 Million each from the governments of BC and Ontario. BC's funds were to create a research institute to be founded in Terry's name, and Ontario's in the form of an endowment given to the Ontario Cancer Treatment and Research Foundation.  Donations by the following April had topped $23 Million.  

Terry was invested into the Order of Canada in September of 1980, and in doing so was the youngest person who'd ever been honoured.  He was also named to the Order of the Dogwood, by the Lietenant Governor of BC, recognized as the highest award in the province.  Terry was commissioned a permanent exhibit in the Canada Sports Hall of Fame.  He also received the Lou Marsh Award for 1980 as the Nation's top athlete and was named Canada's 1980 Newsmaker of the Year.   

The Ottawa Citizen described the national response to his marathon as "one of the most powerful outpourings of emotion and generousity in Canada's history." 

I'd say he earned it!  Never let it be said that one person cannot make a difference.  All it takes is one little spark to create a fire! 

If you feel so inclined, I would encourage you to seek out your local chapter of the Canadian Cancer Society, your local cancer agency, or your area Relay for Life efforts.  If not for these great organizations, a great many of us would not be here today.  

If you are already a supporter,  THANK YOU  <3

Bullying - Teen Suicide - Where Does It End?

How many of our precious kids do we have to lose before we realize what a serious problem this is? Even one is too many, and we've already lost many more than that... 

Jamie Hubley, Amanda Todd.. and now Rehteah Parsons..  and way too many in between.  Where does it end?

Sadly, Bully's aren't just kids - There are many adults out there too being bullied - Bullying isn't new - it's been around forever - only now we talk about it more, see it more.. 

Some turn a blind eye because they feel they can't do anything and others don't want to get involved, many parents that surrender in defeat against a system they don't feel they can battle. WE as adults are frustrated and at a loss - how do you think our Kids feel?

We tell our kids that should tell a teacher, or go to the office - but they don't want to do that for fear of being belittled, or labelled a snitch. Sometimes well meaning adults choose phrases like suck it up, and get over it, or walk away -- which do little to support the victim and enable to the bulliying to continue.

Has your child been bullied? Have your efforts been supported or thwarted?

How do you combat bullying? What support system do you find works best? How do you support your child?

I'd love to hear from you ~ Send your comments to: 
tammy@easternontarionetwork.com Please put "Bullying" in the subject line.

Live Every Day As It's Your Last ~ One Day It Will Be

One of my favorite pics of Dad ~ At the Highland Games years ago :)

We were sitting here talking about how tomorrow would have been Dad's birthday and marveling at how surreal it is that it's already been 3 months, and how it feels like just yesterday and ages ago all at the same time that I was talking to Dad on the phone and plotting to come out for a visit in a few weeks’ time.  How we got from there to here is mind-blowing.  None of anything went as planned, and there are still many days that it feels like I’m stuck in a bad dream and I can’t seem to wake up.

About that time a friend of mine messaged all excited about a new purse she just bought on sale for $700 -- it is important to note it was regularly over $900!!  And I just about laid an egg..    I've had CARS that I've paid less than that for, and drove them for multiple years!!  The image of my friend sitting on her purse expecting to get somewhere tickles my funny bone.. but I digress..

It's much more than that though - When I think of the good I could do with that kind of money ~ That's several month's groceries,  it's car payments for a couple of months.. it's so many things..  but just a purse.. that doesn't even make my list..  Now I should say here that I mean in no way to disrespect my happy shopping friend ~ honestly, she’s one of a number of ladies that have discovered the joys of pricey purses lately, and I’ve had the same conversation to my shoe-collecting friends as well.  We all have our habits and vices right?  Mine lives in my craft room.. <Grin> 

Given the timing of the conversation, I found myself laughing.  If I'd ever told my Dad I'd spent that kind of money on a purse I think he'd have had me committed.  He probably would have driven me there himself.. likely in a flurry of conversations surrounding the phrases “F’n dummy” and “Easy come easy go eh?”, two of his very favorite sayings. 

Even so, I just cannot wrap my brain around spending that much on something to throw my crap in.. LOL     Guess I'm not much of a girly girl..   it's all Dad's fault I suppose..  he always called my sister and I his sons..  It became somewhat of a family joke.  He always wanted a son.  He and Mom had a son before me, but he died as an infant and after that Mom gave him two girls.  He proudly told everyone that we were his sons, and we’d laugh and call him our Mom – Daddy-Mom, actually.  Since for most of our lives he filled both roles having taken over when our Mom ran away from home.

I was remembering how Dad had insisted that if I was going to drive a car that I had to know how to take care of it.  He bought me my first car at 16.  I had to learn to check the oil, and tire pressure and such before I was ever allowed to drive it.  Don’t even get me started on my learning to drive -  Dad had some pretty interesting methods of making sure his student kept their mind on the road while driving.  He always stuck a roll of toilet paper in the glove box “Just in case”; I think he just wanted to throw us off of our confidence and make sure we paid attention.  Crazy bugger.  I remember stopping at a red light and having him quietly pull on the hand brake or slipping the car into neutral and laughing himself silly while you panicked as the light went green.  I will never forget the day he reached over and cuffed me in the back of the head and when I asked what that was for, he said that one day I’d have my boyfriend in the car and he’d be talking to me, and feeling up my leg and I’d have to keep my mind on the road.  I quipped back Yeah right Dad, like you’re ever gonna let me have a boyfriend!  We both laughed all the way home..    

When other girls my age were out shopping with their moms or hanging out at the mall, I was learning how to change the oil in the car, piling wood for the wood stove,  helping Dad with the tow truck just to name a few. At 10..11..12.. , I was making business calls, and answering business calls and calls for the Union (Dad was a shop steward for a time) .  I learned to cook, and clean house, and helped out with my little sister.  We moved around quite a bit, and Dad always drove us to school and picked us up.  At times I felt robbed of what others were doing that I wasn’t allowed to.  It took me a long time to realize the gifts that he’d given me early in life that many don’t learn til much later – some never learn them.  

He was fond of saying that I was going to grow up strong like him. Ford Tough, he’d say..   whenever something bad would happen he’d say “Don’t worry kid, you’re a Wilson! You’re tough, like me!  Ford Tough” and we’d laugh..  

A few months before he fell ill we were talking on the phone and he said something I will never forget.  He told me he had no brains anymore that he’d given them all to me.  I thought that he was just being his jokester self, but he insisted he was serious that he’d taught me everything he knew so that he didn’t have to think anymore.  At the time I didn’t know it, but we’ve come to realize that Dad had been ill for a lot longer than he let on.  I think he wanted to make sure that he let me know that he loved me.  He didn’t often say it – he was the king of “me too”, when he actually said it, it was a very big deal.  Over the last year he’d become fond of saying “I miss you more than the world”, “I love you more than the world”.  I just hope he knew that to me, he was the world.  He was the one person in my life that was always there no matter what.  It didn’t matter what had happened, or what was needed; if he couldn’t fix it he did his very best to find us someone who could. 

He was never hung up on looks or age and didn’t care that having a teenage daughter would tell the world that was old.  He’d come to my band concerts in his jeans and vest, and afterwards he’d crack jokes and we’d all laugh about all the people who got all dressed up to put on airs at a kid’s concert. I can think of very few times when I called on Dad for help and didn’t get it.   In my teens and twenties friends were very jealous of my ability to make a phone call and say “Daddy it’s broken, come get it” and before too long a tow truck would be coming down the road to the rescue.  Everybody should have that kind of security in their lives. 

When he was in the hospital this past year,  he told me that I was the best thing he ever did and that he was proud of me.  Now to most that wouldn’t seem like a very big deal but my Dad was never a very touchy feely sappy kinda guy..   His way was more to tell me how screwed up I was or what I’d done wrong – perhaps some effort to make me work harder.  I could clean the whole house to surprise him, but then he’d come back and notice a sock under the couch, or some other trivial item – oh there were days I wanted a bugs bunny mallet!!  -  but then I’d heard from other people how he’d praised me or how proud he was of me.  So this direct statement was very unexpected, and a very precious gift.   I had no idea at the time that it would be one of the last times I’d hear his voice as he was intubated not long after, and though we were able to “talk” afterwards,  his words were no longer audible.  The nurses marvelled at the fact that we were carrying on complete conversations while many of them couldn’t be bothered to put in the effort to try to make out what he was trying to tell them. 

I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that he’s been gone 3 months already.  I keep expecting the phone to ring and hear that familiar voice telling me he’s got a job for me, wisecracking and joking around.  Someone will say something, or something will happen and I’ll think Oh wow.. I’ve gotta tell Dad – and then it hits me and I find myself feeling like an idiot – how could I “forget” something so important.  The other day I reconnected with a girl from our old neighborhood we haven’t talked since we were kids,  crazy that we live about an hour apart and both some 4000 miles from “home”.   My first thought was to call Dad and tell him who I’d “found”.  It still doesn’t feel real and I’m not entirely certain that it ever will.

When I think of all the times we put off the “What if” conversations as if we had all the time in the world.  Truly, we always take for granted what we have until we don’t have it anymore.  I never dreamed I’d be saying good-bye to Dad so early in life, I was pretty sure we had many many years to drive each other crazy left to explore..   I guess it’s true what they say.  You just never know..   

Live every day as though it may be your last.  One day, it will be.

Love you Daddy.  Miss you

It's a new year.. to new beginnings..

2012 was to be the start of a brand new year of hope, dreams and life..

Instead it was a year of medical struggles, a test of human spirit, and death.   Not in my wildest dreams or nightmares could I have planned the way the year played out.  It wasn't as depicted in the travel brochure, let me tell you!!

Seems so strange to condense all the happenings of the year into two short sentences, but looking at it, that's truly it in a nutshell.

It started in February with me being in hospital for a week - gall bladder -  came home with a drain tube while they contemplated their next move.  To be honest, it happened so fast that I didn't have time to plan for it, get upset about it or go to the usual crazy places that a mind goes when faced when yet another stop along the crazy path that I've come to call my life as a guinea pig.

In May my Dad got sick,, and there were several weeks via phone of coaxing him to go to the doctor.   As it was, he finally went and by then he was slurring his words intermittently, and for some reason didn't see a reason to tell the doctor covering for his that this was a new issue and not a regular item on the hit parade.  I called back and spoke to him and he came to speak to me on his lunch break.  Promised to see my Dad again the next day.   True to his word he did so..   and Dad was told he needed to go to hospital.. 

Dad was never a "Hospital" guy, and wasn't going to go willingly into that dark night..  I remember when he'd drive me to the cancer clinic for my chemo treatments years ago how he rarely came inside.  He'd drive me down there, with all my gear and packed amusements and tell everyone I was going on a 5 day vacation.  My ride down there was my visit.  You see, Dad always associated the hospital with death and dying.  He hated the smells and if given the choice he just wouldn't go.  I remember how shocked I was to come out of that initial surgery and have Dad and one of his older sisters come in to visit.  Several of the nurses thought Auntie Eileen was my Mom.  I laughed about that one for a really long time.  Or was it the funny face Dad made when I told him that they'd thought his sister was his wife?  Maybe a little bit of both..  he was always such a character. 

It took two weeks of coaxing to get him to actually go -- he was so sure they'd keep him..     but he finally went in June 3rd..  he was so sure he wasn't staying that he parked in the loading zone at emerg.   As we suspected, he was wrong -  and was admitted immediately.

Thanks to a really awesome friend back home, we were able to get Dad's trucked moved from the loading zone at the hospital from 3500 miles away.

I was on a flight home 2 days later and stayed until August.  At that point Dad was still in ICU but stable and progressing -- my Father in-law was going for an expected quadruple bypass. It was to be his second, and things weren't looking good.  We were faced with the possibility of losing a valued pillar of our lives and family. 

Much to our delight, my FIL's surgery went well - a triple rather than a quad and he was well on his way to being home by the time I went for surgery 2 days later.   I like to think of it as all the good karma in the universe that he's thrown out over the years coming back to repay him.  He truly is a wonderful man.

 I was almost 3 months before my incision healed enough that I could drive, or fly..  so I was forced to do the daily check in's by phone.  Dad had a trach tube in so we couldn't speak directly, but we did pass messages through nurses and family friend.  The hospital also had what they refer to as a "You've got mail" program so I was able to send e-mails and pictures as well.  I wish I could have seen the look on Dad's face when the box arrived with the Halloween decorations for his room..   some of my crafting friends and colleagues sent cards that nurses papered the wall in his room.  I like to think that even if he was thinking I'd gone bonkers that it made him smile.  I know he particularly liked the blue fuzzy blanket that we sent him.  I figured it might make him feel a little more like home, and a little less like hospital (Jail as he called it). 

We were about 2 months into our "wait" when my FIL finally got in for the surgery we'd initially been waiting for.   After the scare of the first surgery,  this one didn't seem as scary but it was clear it was also very risky.  We were and are so very grateful that his surgeries went well.  He is definitely part energizer bunny that one..  and every bit as loved. 

Honestly, I think my brain had gone pretty numb by that point; I was really starting to feel like I was running around in zombie land and not in a hyped up trendy fun way either.   Spent an awful lot of time going through the list of have-to-do and need-to-do without a whole lot of concern about everything that was flying at me. 

We finally got the go-ahead to go back at the end of November.  We were going to fly out for Christmas and spend it with Dad.  Then Dad took a turn for the worst, and we arrived November 28th.  Dad passed December 1st.  This added a whole new set of circumstances and family drama -- way more than I expected..

I am grateful I was there to hold Dad's hand when his time came but I am so truly disgusted at how people Dad called friends behaved and how disrespectful people can be..

Hard to believe it's been 2 months already.. it still doesn't feel real..   not that I don't know my Dad's gone..   but I still catch myself picking up the phone to call every so often, or wondering what he's doing or something and then it hits me..  and I always feel like such an idiot..

They tell me it gets easier with time..   I can only hope..