The Queen's Rambles

*Thank you all so much for all the help with the songs and the obit. It was very, very helpful. We picked songs direct from you guys, so you really contributed a lot. Torapines and Helloheather were also phenomenal in obituary proof-reading.

*Holy hell, does an obit cost a lot of money. You get 70 words for free, then it starts costing hundreds of dollars. I don’t mind since it is the last thing I am doing for my father, but it was just a total shock. I think I did a nice job writing it and it is a good way to honor his memory, so there you go.

*I am tired of getting puked on at midnight. Poor, sweet baby. She ate so little yesterday that all she had to puke up with bile smelling stuff. Directly into my mouth. I did take her to the doc and she said it was just a virus and we have to wait it out. I was slightly concerned since we’d been around hospital germs and those can be industrial strength. If this silly baby would just eat some fruits and vegetables instead of the flesh of my arm she might not be sick all the ding-danged time.

*Mike had a big work thing today and then he had to go out to dinner with clients. I know he had to do it and I know he didn’t want to do it. I know he has to schmooze so we can make the big bucks and I can enjoy our current lifestyle. Still. Sick baby. Dead father. Working husband. Woe is me.

*It is so hot here that I didn’t let Erik go outside this afternoon or evening. He is chomping at the bit and I don’t blame him, but I don’t need a heat stroked child to round out my week of fun.

*I am beyond irritated at the funeral people. They can not seem to answer a simple e-mail. We are paying enough that they should be committed to answering my every whim. Is it really too much to ask for confirmation e-mails when I’ve sent something they need? Also, I sent a shit load of pictures via e-mail and half of the messages failed to be delivered but I don’t know which ones and they won’t tell me what they received so I am ready to beat them black and blue. JUST TELL ME. At first the lady was all “just send all the pictures in one e-mail, it will be fine.” Yeah. Guess how “fine” that was? We’re talking 30 scanned in pictures and about 20 digital pictures.

*My sister is trying to be so helpful, but she irritates. I’m very thankful that my mom went ahead and hired a funeral home to do everything so my sister can stop running around like a headless chicken. My sister was trying to get us to have the funeral at her church, officiated by her pastor, and then my mom and her could go and make sandwiches in the church kitchen afterwards. As if that is what a mourning family does. I’m sure if my dad was a religious man that would be fine, but he was not and my sister’s pastor is the biggest scammer I’ve ever met. The slime, it just oozes off him. I don’t feel this way about all pastors. In fact, the minister at my grandma’s old church would have been just fine. But this guy? I doubt he’d be able to do a funeral without the fire and brimstone sermon. There are funerals where lots of heaven talk is very comforting and appropriate, but when the deceased was a vocal unbeliever who did lots of naughty things and doesn’t have a hope of heaven by anyone’s definition, the typical Biblical idea of death is not all that comforting. I don’t want to think of my father rotting in hell and sorry, but that’s exactly where the God of the Bible would put him. I think a few prayers are fine, mainly for the comfort of the mourners, but a whole big thing about heaven and hell just doesn’t seem appropriate. I don’t believe it so I don’t find it particularly upsetting, but it seems like true believers would have to find it upsetting, knowing my father’s history. I don’t know. I’m just glad my mom put her foot down and they are doing a celebration of life instead.

*I can’t believe Mike got to go out to a fancy pants dinner. We should have went out to a fancy pants dinner for our 8 year anniversary last weekend, but we weren’t even in the same time zone. I looked at his dinner options tonight and can’t get too upset. I know he’ll enjoy himself because it is a huge array of seafood, but I don’t eat seafood. At this restaurant, if you don’t eat seafood you’d better be prepared to eat asparagus or mushrooms. Yuck. I am not fancy pants enough to eat at these high end places.

*I signed Erik up for a little half-day camp the last two weeks of June. It’s hard to get up to get him out of the house early, but it will be nice to have him off doing very active things that he loves and I don’t have to supervise. He has his school camp this week, then he was going to be free all summer. I can’t handle the freedom.

*I thought cloth diapers were the cause of Elsa’s butt rashes since we used disposables and she had a clear butt the entire time we were in OR, but I guess not. As soon as we got home she got a major butt rash. And you know what else? While we were in Oregon the rash that encompassed over 75% of my hand completely cleared up. It was a thing of beauty. I didn’t think that hand would ever be rash free. It’s slowly coming back, though. I think Elsa and I are allergic to the humidity.

*I wish I could get a clear scan of a few pictures I found in a photo album. My scanner makes a weird, rainbowy thing over all the pictures and they are blurry to start with so it’s pretty useless. But these pictures! My gosh! I was confused because I thought I was looking at pictures of Elsa, but they are pictures of me at her age. Poor little thing looks just like her mama. At least I’ll know not to start dying her hair blonde when she’s 12. Dark hair is much more becoming for our skin tone and eye color.

*Guess it is time to try to get Erik into bed. I’ve been telling him Harry Potter in installments and we are up to book 6, but I can’t remember anything that happens in it. Not that it matters. I have not exactly been detailed oriented with the other books because I can’t remember things and he is not good at letting things unfold. He wants answers, dammit, and he wants them now. Maybe I’ll just kill Voldemort tonight and tell him the story is over.

My mom wants me to come up with some Elvis Presley songs that they can play during the slide show. I know nothing about Elvis Presley. I found one called Memories that could work.

Any ideas? Or any other old time rock and roll that would be appropriate during a video tribute to someone’s life?

Thank god I don’t have to make the slide show. I just had to scan in some pics and e-mail them to the funeral home. They are making the video as part of the package deal my mom bought.

I am supposed to be writing the obituary and turning it in tomorrow. I have a lot of it in my head, but need to find time to write it down.

Elsa has horrible stomach problems and keeps puking all over me. We got no sleep last night. I am taking her to a doctor in a couple of hours, but doubt they can help. I just want to make sure I’m not missing anything.

Erik has camp this week, so at least he has been off having fun this morning. I need to go pick him up in about 15 minutes.

This poor, sick baby is breaking my heart. She is taking some fever medicine, at least. I found some cherry flavored medicine in Oregon and she will tolerate it. I also bought some suppositories for her while I was there, but they don’t seem to do much. I am just relieved I’ve found something to help comfort her.

Her main form of comfort is biting and pinching. Her own legs are black and blue from her pinching herself. I look like I’ve been in a fight with a rabid racoon. I wish I could find something for her to bite that is as satisfying as biting skin. I’ll have to go buy her a whole pig and let her chew on it. That sounds healthy.

My dad passed yesterday morning a few minutes after they removed life support. He fought hard at the end, but years of abusing his body left him too damaged to function.

I wasn’t there and had no idea they were going to take him off life support. I would have changed my ticket if I would have known, but at the time it felt like he was going to be on life support forever, so I did what my mother told me and got on the airplane and came home. I will miss the funeral, which upsets me because I want to be a support for my mom. I will be writing the obituary and putting together a slide show, so that’s going to be enough of a good-bye for me.

We made it home. The flights were all fine and on time. Elsa is not the travel champ that her brother has always been. If I never have to take a flight with that baby it will be too soon. She cried a good portion of most of the flights. By the last flight I was crying with her.

Closing comments because I never know what to say. The only thing to say is sorry, and I already know you are all sorry for my loss. I don’t need to put any further pressure on you. You’ve all been amazing supports for me.

First off, thank you all so much. You are all wonderful, insightful and supportive. I want to give a special shout out to my queen of ramble readers since the blog refuses to e-mail me comments so I can’t e-mail anyone back. THANK YOU.

Lest you think I am a paragon of cool, calm and self-control, I’ll tell you that I lost my shit on my sister yesterday. After her little 6 am make-up stunt we had a horrible morning. Elsa was whining and biting and biting and whining. I was exhausted. I was done.

My sister showed up about 10 with the plan of dumping her youngest son off with me (miracle of miracles, she actually sent her two older kids to school). I got in her face and we had words. I asked her why in the bleepity-bleep she would ever think it’s ok to wake some one up at 6 am to do her make-up. I told her I didn’t know how she had custody of her children and gave examples of the unbelievable shit she pulls. I raged.

Then she said she was leaving and I said “OH NO YOU ARE NOT.” I made her stay and watch Erik while Elsa and I took a two hour nap. She was chomping at the bit, because two hours of staying in one place is hell to her.

Do you think any of that went through her thick skull? Absolutely not.

Today she showed up with the kids at the hospital. Laynee had on a pair of Lexie’s high heels and the youngest only had one shoe. Then she wanted to leave them in the garden with me while she went up stairs. Do you think I want to be seen with a bunch of rag-a-muffin kids and have people think I am too lazy/stupid/ignorant to make my kids wear shoes?

My dad is doing very, very, very poorly today. I thought he was going to slip from this world while we were up there, but he is still hanging on. They are removing all the life support type stuff from him and will be moving him out of ICU (old timers, I keep typing ICQ) if they think he can make the transition. I want to change my tickets to stay another week, but my mom has absolutely forbid it. I want to be a support for her through the funeral, but my dad’s brother has really stepped up to the plate and is doing a lot of the planning with her. As long as she doesn’t have to fight off my sister and has the support of my uncle she can probably do it without me. I just feel guilty, but I don’t want to be here. My family needs to go home. I don’t know how much a ticket change would cost. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I am being selfish by going home right when things are getting even worse. Surely he can’t make it two more days. But what if he keeps making it and making it and we end up out here all summer?

I can’t be here all summer. It would turn me into a horrible person.

Honestly, I don’t ever plan on coming out here again. With my dad and grandma gone, I don’t feel like there’s anyone that needs to see the kids. I know Erik loves his cousin, but it just makes me sad to see them. Every year will just get worse.

. . . I want to bash her head into a brick wall.

My mom has been locking all the doors for the first time ever. She doesn’t feel safe with my dad gone (not sure what good he would have done) and her dogs are pretty useless as far as guard-dogging goes. My dad’s friend changed out the main lock and we’ve been very vigilant about keeping things locked up. My mom might forget, but I never feel safe in this town.

So what happens at 6 in the bleep-bleeping am? My sister starts ringing the doorbell, pounding on windows, and making a general racket. Elsa and I both woke up, so there went two hours of sleep.

What was oh-so-important that she had to wake up a very tired, sort of sick mother and her family at that ungodly hour (I know you worker bees probably don’t think six sounds too early, but just imagine it is two hours before your normal wake-up time)? Her make-up. She forgot her foundation and she couldn’t start her day without it. Why? WHY? Where the fuck does she have to go?

And why is her make-up spread out all over the country? She has a house. Isn’t that were her make-up should be?

Oh, and then she wanted me to french braid her hair and got mad when I wouldn’t do it. I have no freakin’ clue how to french braid hair. I have terrible fine motor skills and have no desire to learn.

It is 9:30, I am exhausted. Elsa is exhausted and needs a nap but the phone won’t stop ringing and I can’t turn the ringer off because I don’t want to miss a call if something happens to dad.

When Elsa gets tired she starts biting. Her bites now break the skin. I look like I’ve been attacked by a vampire. If anyone knows how to make a 13 month old quit biting please advise. I am at the end of my rope and am ready to duct tape her mouth closed.

If I have to be up, I would like to take a shower. I’m going to have to shower with Elsa. She will bite me.

I am hating life right now.

Poor, poor me.

I can’t wait to go home on Sunday. I miss our routine. I miss our friends. I miss my husband. I miss a clean home with no crazy people.

It has been really tough being the sole care giver while so ill. My mom is up at the hospital all the time, as she should be, so can’t help. My sister helps a little but I can’t depend on her and even when she’s here I have to supervise. All the kids are sick, so what does she let them do? Go play outside in the freezing cold with no shoes on (at least Erik was smart enough to put shoes on).

Coming to Oregon is always good for me because it makes me appreciate my real life so much more. I don’t think we better come back, though. It seems like things are worse and worse each time we come. What will happen next time? Murder? Car accident? I don’t know, and I don’t want to press my luck.

I swear if I was reading this journal I would be shaking my head, thinking this lady was full of shit or drama or negativity or something. It just isn’t possible for so much shit to be poured upon one person in such a short amount of time.

Oh, I know people deal with much, much shittier things. Last year one of my LJ friends (not sure you want to be named) lost her job, found out her husband was having an affair, and had her mother go through an acute health crisis in a four day span. My crap isn’t nearly that bad, but it is draining.

I was hoping my kids would avoid illness, but wasn’t holding out too much hope with my strep and the three cousins’ earaches. Sure enough, Erik woke up this morning complaining of a sore throat. Elsa was harder to judge, but she slept way more than normal and was cranky so I figured I better get her looked at as well.

We have totally crappy insurance that only covers practices in MD, DC and VA. If that’s not stupid, I don’t know what is. I think Mike’s parent company doesn’t understand the importance of good health insurance because they are based out of Spain. I’m pretty sure Spain has government sponsored insurance.

Anyway, that obviously wasn’t going to stop me from getting my kids treated. Doctor’s visits are actually really cheap out here, though I would prefer not to have a reason for a doctor’s visit.

We walk in, I explain we’re self-pay because I already know this. The lady gives me an evil look that says I’m scum. I was not pleased. I know we looked like scum. All our clothes are covered in dog hair. We were all sick. We didn’t exactly put on our Sunday best. But you know what? Who cares. Don’t make assumptions.

Finally we are called back to the person who makes sure our paperwork is right and that we have a source of payment. She got a lot happier when I showed her my medical debit card and thawed a little. I can see why she was stone cold. The people going through there were not exactly high class, but doesn’t everyone deserve some dignity when they are sick?

This lady was dumber than a box of rocks. It took her over 30 minutes to get us checked in. When I went on Monday there was a friendly, smart young lady who took all of five minutes to get me checked in. So it should have took ten minutes to check in two people?

Then the guy who leads you to the room and takes your vitals came in to see why she was taking so long and kept telling her everything she was doing wrong. She had Elsa’s name spelled as Else Passom. My handwriting is bad, but not that bad.

We went to our exam room, finally, and ended up sitting there for over an hour. There was only one patient ahead of us. I’m pretty sure the doctor went to breakfast before he came in. It was a nightmare, as you can imagine. We were in the dedicated women’s wellness room so there were things for Elsa to get into that she just didn’t need to be getting into.

Erik has strep. Elsa has an ear infection.

I was explaining to the doctor about her reluctance (understatement of the year) to take medicine and he decided the best thing would be to give her a kind of antibiotic that only needed one dose a day. The problem? It would cost $40. I told him that was fine. He was still shaking his head about the expense and I kept telling him it was fine. Sure, I’d rather pay $4, but this is about my daughter’s health. I have $40 for that. I finally told him that I knew our clothes were dirty and we weren’t looking our best, but that we don’t bring nice things when we visit Klamath Falls and I could well afford the extra expense if it would benefit my daughter’s health.

I was about to lose my shit at this point. We’d been there almost 2 hours. Two hours with a very sick five year old who refused to swallow, so was holding a cup full of spit. Two hours with a very active 13 month old who wanted a nap. Mama was not happy.

We drove home in a blinding hail storm, so that was just another level of joy.

Thankfully my sister was able to come over and watch the kids while I went to the pharmacy. My sister actually took my advice about something and didn’t immediately get in Elsa’s face when we arrived. Instead she took her time and made friends from afar, so now Elsa really likes her. Mama does know best, sometimes.

Anyway, the pharmacy was nuts. I thought it would be a quick in and out, but the pharmacist had tagged my case and wanted to talk to me. They needed Elsa’s weight (at this point everyone was calling her Elsie and I was getting perturbed. How bleeping hard is it to pronounce ElsA? I didn’t realize the dumb ass receptionist had spelled her first name wrong) to make sure the dosage was correct. Sure enough, the dosage was way off, so they had to recalculate and get permission from the doctor to give me the new dosage.

Also, they wanted to make sure I really wanted ear drops.

Ear drops? What ear drops?

The $297 numbing drops the doctor prescribed.

Wha?????

Either he took me seriously about having money or he was trying to kick me in the face. I declined the drops. Elsa doesn’t even seem to notice she’s in pain. And guess what? They had pain reliever/fever reducer suppositories! I stocked up on those and will use them if she seems troubled.

Erik took his meds right away and perked up around 6 pm. You’d never know the kid who was bouncing off the walls was the same kid who couldn’t move 2 hours before. I hope the trend continues.

I tried mixing Elsa’s meds in stuff I knew she liked, but she refused. I know we have to finish the course and we can’t screw around so I was really worried. I finally just tried a dose of the stuff straight from the dropper, and danged if that baby didn’t just suck it up and want more. It must be tasty. What a relief! I think I will have enough to give her the full course because the pharmacist said there would be some left over in the bottle.

I swear I am going to write that pharmacist a thank you note. She took a lot of time on a very, very busy day to work with me.

So that’s the kids.

Me? I was at the very end of my rope today and didn’t know what to do, but am feeling much better now.

My dad?

He lingers.

Yesterday they put him in some kind of sling thing and hoisted him into a wheel chair. My mom said it was horrible. My sister thought it meant a miracle was happening. She’s been telling everyone that a miracle is happening and he will be coming home and it will save his soul, my mom’s soul and the souls of all his drunkard friends. She is going to be the most devastated when that doesn’t happen because she’s not preparing herself. I don’t know that you CAN prepare yourself, but it seems like it will be better to assume the worst so you kind of have your head in that space.

I felt well enough to go see him today and I cried nearly the whole time. They need to be giving him more pain medication. I happened to get there right when it wore off before his next allowed dosage and it was not good. He was wild eyed and pleading for more meds. He has a big mask on so you can’t really hear him at all, which sucks because he wants to communicate. I could hardly stand it. He wanted something from me and I wanted to give it, but I had no idea what it was. I patted his hand a long time and tried to talk to him but I didn’t even know what to say. He looks really, really bad.

My mom just found out about the patient advocate at the hospital and is going to try to talk to her tomorrow if she is in. My mom is ready for all these little games to be over and the nurses told her to talk to this lady. The nurses aren’t supposed to have opinions, probably, but they know my dad is not going to make it and they shoot a lot straighter than the doctors. Probably because the nurses have to deal with the families all day and night, not just five minutes here and there.

It sounds terrible to say you want to end it, but he is just suffering. He is begging for a beer. He is in incredible pain. The nurses say he won’t do anything at all to help them, which means he will never recover because he won’t help himself. I don’t know how much a long term stay in the ICU costs, but I can tell you that Medicare only covers 80% of the cost. Drawing it out just to. . . I don’t know. . . not be responsible for making a decision? is just costing my mom a shit ton of money and not adding anything at all to the quality of dad’s life. It sucks. It really, really, really sucks. Modern medicine is wonderful, but it sure complicates these end of life issues.

So that’s the scoop today. Let’s cross all fingers and toes that we all kick these illnesses and are healthy for our trip home on Sunday. Mike went home on Monday and he seems to have strep. I told him to get his butt to the doctor sooner rather than later so I hope he goes in tomorrow. I’d never had strep before and didn’t realize what was happening. How do you tell the difference between strep-get-to-the-doctor-now and duh-just-a-virus sore throats?

Oh, and did I fail to mention Mike and I celebrated our 8 year anniversary yesterday? Or at least we tried to talk on the phone while Elsa screamed bloody murder in my ear and made it impossible for me to hear anything. We know how to do anniversaries, don’t we?