Today is U day!

Today is the day the diseased uterus comes out. I woke at 4 a.m. realizing the warm body snuggled against me was the dog, not Superman. He had trouble sleeping. (Superman, not the dog.) He's much more nervous than I am, the poor dear. I don't think the dog has a clue or would care even if he did. He's very good at being a dog. (The dog, not Superman.)

Every pregnant woman hears horror stories about other women's difficult childbirth experiences. Once I announced I was having a hysterectomy, I've heard anecdotes from women who've had hysterectomies or know those who've gone through it. I have been worried about the "discomfort" I'll experience afterward, but hadn't thought about the hormonal effects of having my ovaries suddenly ripped from my body. (That's perhaps not the most comforting way to express it.) But millions of women have lived through it and I expect to as well. Pretty soon I'll have my own horror stories to tell.

And that's about all I have time to talk about today. I've been contemplating how my concept of being a woman might be tied in to having a uterus, and what it means on a philosophical level to be losing mine. But that's a discussion for another time, when I'm not hurrying to get this posted so I can go lose my uterus.

See you on the flip side!

Beginning with a quote

In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit. -Albert Schweitzer, philosopher, physician, musician, Nobel laureate (1875-1965) 
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So let's wrap up the camping trip. We planned to stay Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights. I posted about the trip last Tuesday. Tuesday evening it got uncomfortably cold and quite windy. Tuesday night in the tent was too cold, so we packed up Wednesday and came home. I read a book most of the afternoon Tuesday and into the evening as well. By the time I finished the book it was late and too cold and windy to stoke up the grill for hamburgers, so we went into Hendersonville to BK for a snack. 


Wednesday morning we did the breakfast thing. I taught Sproing how to make scrambled eggs. The way I do it when camping is to put the eggs and anything else I want to add into a quart size zip closure plastic bag. I seal the bag, then squish everything together through the bag. That's lots o' fun! I put the bag into boiling water, taking care not to let the plastic drape over the side of the pot, because the heat from the camp stove (or fire, if applicable) melts the bag. Yep, learned that the hard way. The eggs cook in the bag and comes out all fluffy and omelette-y. Take care that the eggs cook completely. It takes a while for the center of the stuff to cook. Personally, I like to wrap the scrambled egg into a flour tortilla shell for a breakfast burrito. Sproing likes his on a plate. 


We cleaned up after breakfast and began to break camp. That sounds so violent! We took down the tent, put stuff in boxes and whatnot, laid a tarp in the truck bed, and filled it up with all our stuff. Sproing tried to help me secure the tie-downs over the load, but got a bit of grit in his eye. Did I mention the wind was still strong? It was painful, and I didn't appreciate the gravity of the situation as much as he thought I should. We fussed at each other. He got in the truck and eventually napped on the way home. His eye and his attitude were much better when he woke up. 


The week before our camping trip the weather here in Greenwood was unseasonably warm. I was eager to get to the cooler temps of the mountains. Unfortunately for us, the temperature adjusted to seasonably appropriate in the entire Southeast, so it was too cool in the mountains and very comfortable here in the Piedmont. Perhaps when the kids are out for summer break we can try the camp thing again and get some relief from the heat without freezing our collective asses off. 
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To continue our weather discussion, this week is once again warmer here in Greenwood. It isn't too terribly bad, just in the high 70s, mid 80s (approx. 25-30C). The people who do these things are predicting rain later today and on for the next couple of days, and indeed the humidity is creeping up into the uncomfortable range. I bring this up specifically because our air conditioner isn't working. Again. This doesn't surprise me, necessarily. It's an older system and has caused us problems in the past. Irritates me, though. We've discussed here how I don't handle the heat well. 
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My darling Light was in state this past weekend!! She came down to attend the wedding of a school chum of hers. I was her "plus 1" for the wedding, as her girlfriend wasn't able to attend. It was a lovely event, held at a beautiful event location place in Asheville with lovely mountain views. The weather was perfect. The wedding was small and comfortable. The brother of the bride is a friend of mine from school, an art major at my most recent alma mater. He graduates next week himself. He's also cute, and funny, and he's my pretend boyfriend (one of many), though I don't think he knows it. The bride was beautiful, the groom looked shifty. I liked his best man, though. 


Oh, but the point is that Light was here! She stayed with her girlfriend in Spartanburg. The family went to visit her on Sunday, had a wonderful time. She drove back up to Pennsylvania yesterday, arriving shortly after midnight according to the text she sent me. I haven't heard from her yet today. Hope she's resting. Her car was giving her a bit of trouble. Most immediately he needs new brakes: pads and rotors and a fluid change. She got the oil changed and went back home with her fingers crossed. Her Daddy is going to send her some money to help with the car repair expenses. Her Daddy is a Super Man, imho. 
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Let's discuss today's quote. To review: In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit. -Albert Schweitzer, philosopher, physician, musician, Nobel laureate (1875-1965) 
My "inner flame" has a tendency to flicker out sometimes. I am an introvert, I keep to myself a lot. In doing so, I focus on the negative and lose touch with the more vibrant aspects of my personality. I don't like people, and want them to leave me alone. However, there are persons who inspire me to do my best, who "rekindle the inner spirit" as Dr. Schweitzer says. You know that line in "Men In Black" where K says "A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals and you know it." It's those "people" I don't like. I do like many individual persons, but tend to keep myself secluded and end up avoiding the ones who will do me good. This quote reminds me to reach out, make contact with the world, find people who are good for me. 


That is all. 

Friday's attempt

A quote from one of the founders of modern psychology:

"The best years of your life are the ones in which you decide your problems are your own. You don't blame them on your mother, the ecology, or the President. You realize that you control your own destiny."
-- Albert Ellis

I don't totally agree with Ellis, but he's on the right track.

OK, I'll tell you a little something about art, loss, and pain.

Did I mention last spring that I was sculpting a hand and arm in art class? I don't recall if I mentioned it and am too lazy to check. The point is that I was making this hand/arm out of clay in the sculpture class, and it was very good. The professor didn't fire it in the kiln before the end of the semester, but said that there would probably be a kiln firing about three weeks into the summer term when the grad program was in session. So I left it there. And when I came back this fall the piece is missing. I've asked around. No one knows where it is or what happened to it. All they can tell me is that a lot of things were tossed, and it is probably gone. I've been processing that information.This is a scan of the only photograph I have of the hand. I don't remember who took the picture or who gave me the photo. It pains me to look at it because I remember how good the sculpture was. There was a lot of detail and it looked quite realistic. I had to do surgery on the hand when I first got the shape completed because the palm was too square. I took a wedge out of the pinkie edge of the hand so the palm sloped down from the base of the index finger to the base of the pinkie. As you can see I had the creases in the palm and the curves of the base of the thumb and the forearm. It looked really good. And it is gone now.

It's a waste of energy to be upset. What's done is done. No amount of fussing on my part is going to make the thing reappear. I am mourning, though.

And here's the thing: the chunk of clay is gone, but the soul and the spirit and the talent that created the art is still here within me. No one can see it unless I create something else that displays that talent, but I know that I can do it. I was frankly surprised at how well I was able to depict the human hand and arm. I was not able to do that in the early 1980s when I took a sculpture class, and I haven't worked with clay since then. But something happened, I don't know what, and now I can do it.

So what now? We wait patiently, we make the most of the opportunities that pass our way, and we continue to try to make a positive difference in the world. And we cry just a little bit.

There is a cat on my study notes and other rants and ramblings

There is not enough art in my life dammit. Not enough beauty. (I can tell when I have hit the crux of the matter when tears form in my eyes.) I was going to say something about visual arts, music, and other performance art, but I realize that it boils down to a lack of beauty.

I've been hovering near the edge of tears for a few days now. Don't know why. I know why I don't know why, though. I'm not giving myself time to sit and contemplate. I need time alone to mull things over. Even when I'm in my room by myself I can feel the influence of others in the house. Would I feel this way in, for instance, an apartment with thin walls and noisy neighbors? I don't know. At home I know that others could come in the room. I'm available in an emergency, and others' concept of "emergency" is much broader than mine.

Earplugs help. I like to think earplugs would help in noisy-neighbor-apartment conditions, too, but I don't really know. Anyone want to weigh in on the question? Operators are standing by. Plus, if you call in the next ten minutes, you will receive a bonus package of a dozen replacement widgets.

I have an exam in my Behavioral Stats class today. I was studying, but Samhain (the sleek black cat) settled himself on the paper I was making notes on. He's very content. I've studied pretty well for this one, I think. I'm going over some definitions now (or was) and am fairly confident about most of those. Needs a bit more work. Other stuff I think I've got. We shall see.

This is what I mean by art and beauty. Well, some of what I mean. There's more. I'll know it when I see it, but can't really express it now.

Miss Perky, my fitness and wellness instructor, lectured about cardiovascular disease today. She's five foot nuthin', blonde, and fit as a fiddle. Of course. And perky. Gawd, how annoying. Probably even more annoying at 8:00. Thankfully I don't see her until after 10:00. She's a nice lady, though. I don't like the class, I don't like how she teaches it, but from what I've gathered about her as a person, I like her. Mostly. Except she emphasizes exercise so much it grates on my nerves. [*]

*Translation: I react poorly to her enthusiasm. I get nervous and uncomfortable when confronted with all this blatant truth about my lack of personal fitness. (Here come the tears again. They're a good indicator.) My lack of personal fitness in pretty much every broad area of my life (and I am very broad) indicates impending death. I'm 48 years old. I'm at least twice as heavy as I should be. I get very little exercise. I make unhealthy food choices. There is a lot of unresolved stress in my life. There's a history of heart disease (and mental illness) on my father's side of the family. There's a history of obesity on my mother's side of the family.

And I'm taking a course on death and dying. I've discussed this before. It's an odd, uncomfortable confluence (I love that word) of intellectual input about mortality. (That's a big sentence full of big words.) (I am parenthetically trying to divert the topic away from Me being Dead.)

I like truth, mostly. Truth can be painful. Lies can hurt, in the "damage" sense. As part of my advancing wisdom, I try to be truthful to myself about myself. This blog fits into that scheme, which means you get to read all this raw ugly truth. Or not. The next happy thing is just a click away. You are under no obligation to keep reading this maudlin pile of crap.

How would I react if I had a mild heart attack? Would it wake me up and inspire me to get fit? Or would I give up and surrender to impending death? I really can't know unless and until it happens to me. I've wondered about how I'd react to a diagnosis of cancer. My sedentary lifestyle and other bad habits put me at greater risk for cancer. They say one in three people in North America will get cancer in their lifetime. I'm a big walking welcome sign for it. I don't particularly want to get cancer, but I expect to get it eventually. Would I try to fight it? Depends on what kind of cancer it is, how treatable it is, etc. If the prognosis is bad, I think I'd rather not spend a buttload of money on treatment, but rather receive palliative care. Again, I can't know how I'd react without the real thing actually happening.

There are a few people who love and depend on me. I'm supposed to keep myself alive for their sakes. It'll do in a pinch, but it seems like an inadequate reason for living. It's probably what has kept me alive this long.

On that depressing note, I'll leave you all and go study for this test. I want to do well on this test. Today that is motivating me to stay alive. I will return and post more later. Don't know when "later" is, exactly, but I'll be back.

Update: I set some serious whupage on that test. :)

Parenting drama update

I did it. I took Sproing away and left him at the home for young ne'er-do-wells. It didn't quite kill me.

I last posted on Tuesday. Tuesday was a really bad day with him, but he pulled it together for Wednesday and Thursday. He spent all day Wednesday at school without the school having to call his parents. That's maybe the third day since school started that we haven't been contacted during the school day. On Wednesday afternoon Superman went to the school and officially withdrew him from the district's school system.

Thursday he spent all day until about 3:00 at the hospital undergoing a battery of psychological tests. Remember when Diva did all that a few months ago? Well, it's his turn now. We'll get the results summary in a couple of weeks. They will also send a copy to Sproing's new school.

I've been anxious and teary all week in anticipation of taking him to the boys' home. I actually began to cry in class yesterday. I pulled it together quickly, and I think no one but the sweet young woman who sits beside me even noticed. Today I was able to do what needed to be done, but I was sublimating my emotions. I'm really good at putting on a "proper" face for the kids (most of the time). My nerves have been on edge all day. I drove 9 or 10 hours today, because that's how long it takes to get out to the boys' home and back here. We spent an hour or so together once we got there. There were some papers I needed to fill out and/or sign. The director took us to Sproing's new "cottage" and we unpacked his stuff. He has some of his Hot- Match- (?) cars and the new pickup truck and camper I bought him yesterday. Don't you think the boy needs a new toy from his mama to take to that far-away boys' home? I do, too.

He will only be able to call home once a week. Tuesday evening is his cottage's call night. The boys are allowed to visit home one weekend a month, usually the first weekend. Since next weekend is the first in October, he won't be able to come home then. However, there's a family day the 4th Saturday of October when they will have some parenting classes and such-like, in addition to some play time for/with the boys. Superman and I are planning to go then, and take Diva to see the set-up (unless she gets placed in a home for wayward girls before then).

So, Java, how do you feel about all this? Weird. I feel not-quite-right. I've been very testy with Superman and Diva this evening. Twitch (home for term break right now) has been smart enough to stay out of my way. I know we are doing the right thing. But emotionally and/or subconsciously it feels wrong. Not the wrong thing to do, but wrong to have to do it.

Being the psychoanalytic sort that I am, I pay attention to my feelings, especially the odd ones that pop up when I am stressed. This evening I recognized that I feel the need to punish myself for sending my boy away. [No, of course it doesn't make sense. These things don't.] Realizing this now, I will be careful with other sorts of impulses that surface. I'll tell you this, though, it will be really hard for me to do anything nice for myself for a while.

Now that Sproing is safely tucked away in a good place where he can get the help he needs*, it's time to find someplace like that for Diva. Who knows what that will do to me? I might continue to freak, I might sing hallelujahs. I may do both. The dynamics of my relationship with her are different from how I feel about him. I love them both, but not the same because they are different from each other. I'm pretty sure there's some Mom-son vs. Mom-daughter dynamic going, too. Anyway, we shall see what we shall see.

Right now I'm going to chill out with my blogs, and/or watch this potentially interesting gay movie that Net Flikz sent me. TTFN

*I say it this way in a desperate attempt to convince my inner mommy.

Alas

Where has the day gone? What have I done with myself all day? Is it enough?

I don't know why I do this. I have a perfectly good excuse to go to sleep. It is 2:30 in the morning. I have been awake for 19 hours now. The beloved husband is asleep beside me. My eyes are tired. My brain? Not so much. I am trying to solve the world's problems.

Bad things happen. Horrible people with evil in their hearts do wicked and despicable things to helpless innocents. These atrocities go unchecked, leaving in the wake a tide of broken, tortured souls. Is there a grander purpose? Does ultimate justice exist? Whether it does or not, what do we do in the meantime?

Water cannot be un-spilled. Fire cannot be un-started. Some things must run their natural course. Can we act? Are there solutions? Water can be removed, wiped up, dried. Fire can be extinguished. But that won't undo the original event. It won't prevent the damage, and often does not restore the affected elements to their previous condition.

Some things can be redone. But in life the opportunities for do-overs are limited. No, we must attend to the matters at hand with the hand we were dealt. Do what damage control is possible.

Where is the Phoenix who rises from the ashes? Where is healing? Where is justice? Where is peace?