Looked at his message, the explanation, again.
It seems like months,
But it’s only been days
Together too long
To have now parted ways
Emptiness is here at night
Even in the sunshine light
My mind won’t give in
Keeps thinking of him
Every poem every song
It all seems so long
Since I felt his touch
I love him so much
Can I stop what I feel
When my heart reveals
The memories and pain
I want, need, him again
I don’t think it will lessen
Will he read this message?
In the beginning when I started this blog, I wanted to reach out to help answer questions that people like me might want to ask. I thought if I detailed what the doctors don’t tell you, it would be an easier transition than watching the syrupy video given to you by the nurse. My daughter and two youngest grandchildren at the time went with me to see the video to learn what’s involved after bladder cancer surgery. We all watched; it wasn’t graphic, just a glimpse of adults using the appliance, what I call the “bag”. Thus the title of my blog, the Bag Lady. I tried to approach it with humor, and it is there, once you get through the OMG! part. I had a harder time adjusting than some because I kept having leaks. I hadn’t found the right type of appliance and it took three months after the two week hospital stay to find it. Luckily I swallowed my embarrassment and spoke freely to the manufacturer’s reps and they were very helpful.
My family moved to Wyoming and when I joined them, everything was fine for a while. I had lost weight, stopped the 24 hour oxygen, and went to a clinic and was helped to get off the 150mcg Fentanyl patches I was on because of back and leg pain, for over ten years. Before I moved I had to find a medical doctor and a psychologist. The CO docs at the clinic were great and I wasn’t looking forward to changing. So I picked a couple from the Internet. On my first two hour visit, an hour for each physician, I just introduced myself to the psychologist. The first words out of his mouth were “what can we do for Cheryl today”? I just stared at him with a look of disbelief and then I laughed. It went downhill from there. About ten minutes later, the MD came in, saying he needed to see me right then, or his schedule would be messed up, etc. Actually, I was relieved. Then I sat in his office, his back to me, on the computer. Without turning around he asked why I wrote a note about my doc in CO. This was about the Fentanyl and why I left and went to a clinic. I told him the truth. “She told me she couldn’t treat me anymore, and I would have to find a clinic that could prescribe F”. I added that I had planned on leaving her practice anyway, because she never talked to me, just asked questions with her back to me, on the computer. It took him a minute and then he replied, “you mean like I’m doing now”? I said “yes”. Needless to say, I never went back to either doctor.
Yes, it is funny. Sometimes you just need to laugh! I have learned over the years of health problems that you need to be your own advocate. You cannot just accept what the doctors say. You need to read and learn and ask lots of questions. If they object or say they don’t have time, find someone else. Healthcare is expensive and you usually have to wait for an appointment. So research, and when they “explain” the problem, you’ll know what they’re talking about. Medicine is the same. Make sure they know all the meds you’re on, and your allergies. Doctors don’t know everything and a lot don’t take the time to read up on the latest medicines or treatments. It’s up to you. They work for you, just like hiring an electrician or plumber.
This may sound harsh, but I’ve been to all types of doctors and trying to give you some good advice. If you read me, you expect me to voice my opinion.
Dance lessons found two left feet.
http://nicolaauckland.com/2016/11/12/sometimes-stellar-storyteller-six-word-story-challenge-56/
Of course, being the hopeless romantic always, I think of flames of passion. If a person is fortunate enough to experience these flames, who cares if you get singed a bit? I’ve felt this burning passion, and it was worth whatever ended up scarred in the end. Because in a fire, flames take a while to appear, especially if the wood is fairly young, green and damp. The heat has to intensify enough to bring the flame, and when it does, the fire burns hot and steady. If these embers are not constantly fed with new wood, they eventually cool and turn into ash.
It’s late for a Veterans Day tribute, but I would like to recognize my husband, a geophysicist during the Vietnam War who did research on soil in cold areas. He used to say his job was freezing dirt! His dad and his four uncles who served in WWII, I also thank. And a thank you to all Veterans and those who are still deployed. The picture is my granddaughter placing flags on their grave sites. I was disappointed not to see the American Legion outside the grocery store today. I’ve always been proud to donate and wear the poppies.
It’s a challenge raising children. If my mom had to tell you twice, she might add “(do) this or else”. Or else what? was never an answer for us. We did not talk back to our parents, ever. Well, except at night when she would tell my sister and me she didn’t want to hear another peep out of us. Of course we had to say “peep”! She never got upset over this, she knew we were just being funny. I only remember one time I sassed my mother. She was washing dishes at the kitchen window, had her back to me. I asked to do something and she said no. Not realizing she could see my reflection in the window, I stuck out my tongue. Suddenly a wet dishrag hit me in the head. I deserved it and never did it again. My grandkids when smaller, thought it was funny to say “why not” if I said no to something. Sometimes you just have to pull out the old faithful, “because I said so”. Yes, ashamed to admit it, but occasionally it is the correct answer and please don’t argue!
As an old, music lover, I have below a favorite song by Leonard Cohen. When I first heard him, because I love lower and gravelly voices, I had to find out who sang “Everybody Knows”. Later on I heard “Dance me to the End of Love” (swoon). I read there are more than a hundred verses to “Hallelujah” written by Mr. Cohen. Individual singers take their pick. My favorite rendition is by Jeffrey Adam Gutt. The first song is very relevant this week. Whoever chooses to sing his myriad of songs, I will miss you, Mr. Cohen.
The last thing I want to do today is primp. In fact it’s one of those, stay-in-your-sweats-no-makeup days. My faithful grandson texted asking me to lunch. I said no, I’m not getting out of bed all day! He is my friend, my chauffeur, steadfast 17-this-month grandson. And I think now I should have taken him up on that offer. Here I sit feeling depressed when I could have enjoyed his love, comfort, and humor had I not said no. Maybe he needed to talk. I feel badly about it. I’m going to call him tonight. I was selfish and self serving today with my answer. I’m sorry, Cohen.
Okay, this is how I think our new military leader will be: Captain Stillman, played by John Larroquette, in “Stripes”:
No one was smiling
As out they came filing
After all voted
I felt demoted.
It was just the count
The unknown amount
Based on the knowledge
Of the electoral college.
This system is screwing
It needs all renewing
The individual votes
Might as well be remote.
My faith is subdued
And not to be rude
But America’s screwed
With this president dude.
The world is aghast
Some might even laugh
At the choices we picked
Think I’m going to be sick.
Depression sits in
I see it as sin
To be ruled by this man
Be quick, get the pan.
I’ll just be here gagging
The thoughts that keep nagging
My mind will not rest
I am so depressed.
I write of new hope
But I must be a dope
Where is that rope?
I just want to croak.
It’s hard to find humor in anything today. I am sad, depressed, and afraid. What will happen to us as Americans, our “perfect on the outside” way of life, when this election shows all the now seen, pent up feelings of the chosen people whose votes counted? They give you a sticker that says “my vote counts”. The saying “we’re all going to hell in a hand basket” comes to mind. I am so disappointed in us as a country, and embarrassed we let this happen.
The Bag Lady 
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