What is a sick child?

I have to say that I feel very lucky when it comes to the health of my kids. Yeah, they get banged up, get colds, toothaches, stomach problems…occasionally some constipation…but never anything serious. I have even posted about me and my unhuman history of making it 41 years and never spending a night in a hospital or even breaking a bone.

Since I started blogging, I have heard some of the most horrendous stories about people’s kids being gravely ill. It is almost unimaginable for me to comprehend what they must be going through as a parent…not to mention the suffering of a child.

In real life, I don’t even know anyone (close to me) that has had a very sick child…I have experience here. The one thing that I can say is that I bet I’d be a mess. I can see myself going over the top and just plain losing it. I’d be like Denzel in that movie John Q.

Much of the time, Mariah will come up to me with a sad, heartbroken look on her face…then I’ll ask her what is wrong. She slump into a chair to tell me the horrors that some other blogging parents are going through with their sick child. I feel bad for them. But it just does not affect me the same was as it does her. Maybe it is because I have never been through or experienced first (or even second) hand what it is like. Maybe it is because I don’t know these people. Maybe it is because I am a cold son of a bitch…I don’t know. But the fact remains; I DO feel for these families and truly care about the health and well being of ALL children.

Now…one of the resident Hot Dads (AlwaysHomeandUncool) has a big date (October 2nd ) coming up that really means a lot to his family (especially Thing1) and many more people throughout the world. Read a bit about what they have been through here and here.

I encourage you all to join him in his efforts to create awareness and raise funds for Cure JM. Cure JM is a 100-percent volunteer organization that funds medical research into the cause, treatment and eventual cure of juvenile myositis, juvenile dermatomyositis and their variants. The group also offers family support opportunities to help JM children, their parents, friends and relatives cope with the disease. To date, we are more than halfway to this year's fundraising goal of $500,000, nearly all of which goes directly to JM doctors to pay for research fellowships, specialized lab equipment and fund studies.

Please do what you can and save some space on your blogs on October 2nd and make sure to even tell your real life friends and family about it. We need to get a hold on these childhood illnesses that cause so much pain!

big ass needles and cutting tools

I think that I hide it pretty well, but I have to say that I’ve been living with quite a debilitating fear…poking around in my head lately.

I have recently been granted more time with my 2 boys and I feel that Mariah’s kids all love me and see me as a reliable and permanent fixture in their lives. Those two things make me the happiest man on Earth.

The scary part is that I have been feeling run down. Back problems, eyes get a bit discolored, ears clog daily along with recent throat problems, always fatigued, my ‘waste management’ department does not seem to be running smoothly (although…that could just be in my head.)

I have been to the doctor and had physicals and stuff, but I don’t over-dramatize all of these symptoms to the doctor. I don’t want to be a complainer or whiner. I suck it up and power on. It is just that these days I can’t help but to feel like something serious is going on every time I start to feel something ‘off.’

My throat has been killing me for 2 days now and it does not seem like a normal sore throat…instantly I start thinking…’it is throat cancer and I am FUCKED!’ Then I have a day when my bowel movements just don’t seem right…and I pee every 5 minutes…followed by feeling like I need to pee and just can’t...and I smoke and drink.

It is driving me crazy…but I do not say anything…I know Mariah is going to kick my ass and march me into a doctor after she reads this. I don’t want her to worry or freak out, and I genuinely fear going to a doctor with everything and having him say that I am FUCKED!

On the other hand…I am 41, I run around and play, wrestle and horse around with the kids all day. I (think) look much younger than I am. I am strong and have never had any medical problems. All of this shit could just be a figment of my imagination.

I need to be here for Mariah and all of our kids, but doctors and their frequent misdiagnosis, over medicating, treating things that are really not ‘things’ and …big ass needles and cutting tools.

I have never had surgery, never actually spent a night in a hospital…and I hate to admit, as a man, that Hospitals and all that cutting shit, scares the crap out of me. I can’t fathom the idea of me having to go in for some surgery or something. I could see myself skipping the country and living out my days on a beach in Costa Rica before checking into a hospital.

Maybe I just need to stop watching House and get some medical marajuana or something...and just chill!
Mariah…take it easy on me and …really….I’m ok.

TentCampress And His Moon

I may have to see some sort of doctor…or scientists or something. Why you ask? Well, as most of you know, I live with Insane Mama and her 3 daughters and her son. The women in the house are 9, 11, 16 and, well, Insane Mama is in her 30’s.

I know that when women/girls who live together often start to ‘synchronize’ with their periods (or ‘moons’ as we call it here in the house of insanity.)

Now the reason that I may be in need of some sort of specialist is because I think that I may be….’synchronizing’. Right around the time that Insane Mama and 16 year old Amanda are entering into their spell of Pre Moon Syndrome (PMS), I start to crave ALL food, I get cranky, short tempered, I get cramps (from gas) and nothing that goes on in my life (for that week span) is ever right…or good enough.

I am scared! I say that cuz…what is next? I fear that I’ll wake up one morning lying in a pool of my own blood. Where will I bleed from? Shit that scares me!

With all of the others in the house…my irritability is irrational. It makes no sense. There is no logical reason for my MOODS and I have no way of explaining what is happening. I try to equate it with men’s sympathy pains during pregnancies…but that does not fly around here. When the two eldest females of the house are…irrational…I am the one who is supposed to be there to hold down the fort.

Now I don’t want any of you to feel bold enough to say something like, “maybe you are part woman and you actually GET PMS.” Or, “that maybe I am turning into a woman. That shit don’t fly on my blog!

Anyway…I don’t know if I need a doctor, a scientist/researcher or a freaking shrink.

PLEASE HELP ME!!!

The Battle

I wrote this while at the hospital (with Insane Mama). I was exploring the transition from where I was to where I was headed.



Internal battles within the war
Climbing from the trenches
Fighting uphill
Dazed and confused
The landmines of life

Shrapnel hits from the ones I love
I fear the fight and want to lie down
Sink into a fox-hole
Watching life go by
The danger above rivals the pain inside

Can’t climb out
Too weak
Sitting too long
Paralyzed
Tree roots and vines snap from my weight

Helpless and hopeless
Starting to give up
A rope swings down
Reaching feverishly
Hope is in sight

Is there enough strength to climb out again?
Gripping for life
I need to be pulled up
I hold on for life
The life I know I can have

Insanely Peeing In The Wind - Part 6

The day that Insane Mama left the hospital, I felt my level of anxiety rise to a level that I did not even know existed. I was actually scared. I feared that she would not call me. I was scared that we’d never get together…but most of all, I was scared that she wouldn’t like me …outside of that place. We spoke on the phone a few times and made plans to meet. The anxiety was killing me. All I could do was think about her. I don’t know that I’d be able to handle her drifting away. I could not let that happen.

The day of our first meeting arrived and I had no idea what to expect, or what to do once we met. But…I was going to see her again and that is what was important. I spent more time getting ready to meet her that day than I ever have.

Then she cancelled!!!!!! What the F? What is this all about? Now I really did not know what to think. Did she really just have some other things that HAD to be taken care of…or was this the first step in her starting to drift away? I did not want to push it too much or interrogate her…knowing that it would be about the same as chopping my own penis off. I had knots in my stomach and had an unrelenting urge to vomit….all day.

After a few more calls and texts, we set up another meeting. At this point I would have driven to Egypt to meet with her. Things were going very well between us on the phone and I knew that she had her hands full with her 4 children. At the same time, she empathized with me about my situation. I was glad that we had this extra time to talk as it really showed me that our relationship “outside” would not be one of those short-lived, physical “flings.” I was happy about the meaningful talks that we were able to have.

The morning of our, new, meeting was a bit different for me. I did not take more than 5 minutes getting ready. I think that was part of my problem the last time. Taking a long time getting ready and being all anxious thinking about it…made it worse when she cancelled. This time it was quick…and we did meet. We decided to meet for coffee at a shop in between our respective houses. I did, though, have a small bucket in the front seat… just in case I was going to blow chunks while driving. As I pulled into the coffee shop I did not see her. I picked up my bucket and set it in my lap while I parked. Just in case. I sat there in my car for a few minutes…I did not want to be that guy who goes in, orders two drinks, gets a table and then watches one of the drinks get cold while the staff makes humorous remarks about him. NO WAY! That guy is not me. Well….It could have been cuz that’s what I ended up doing. Well, all except the other one getting cold.

When she pulled into the lot I had the most intense urge to pee that I had ever had in my life. Then I had a flash of me going into the bathroom to pee, her looking around and not seeing me and then taking off, thinking that I stood her up. F NO!!!!! I got up with the coffees and walked outside. She was still parking so I set the coffees on a wall and waited there for her. As she walked up to me, I was about to say something lame like, “you look nice…or how are you…or Hi there.” My brain went into Rain Man mode. As I was fumbling for the right words, Insane Mama ended her bee line to me by grabbing me and planting her lips on mine with one of the most intense kisses that one could imagine. Our embrace and kiss seemed to last for about an hour (who know for sure?) I do know that we did catch the attention of some of the other patrons who seemed to enjoy watching us “make out.” The fireworks that were going on in my head were making their way through my heart and landing in my groin. Yes…dry humping, slow grinds are still “in.”

That meeting happened 3 years ago and about 2 months later I was out of my house and at the beginning of the “never ending divorce.” Insane Mama makes fun of me, to date, claiming that I’ll never be divorced…I beg to differ, but I can’t seem to secure any paperwork that says different. “Lord help me!!!!!!!!” The divorce has been granted in court….twice, but the final judgment that “her” attorney was ordered to prepare...twice…has never been done.

I will marry that Insane Love Bug of mine one day. I just hope that she sticks it out. She is the one!!!!!

Insanely Peeing In The Wind - Part 5

After leaving the …hospital, I was a wreck. I did not know what to do with myself. I thought of Insane Mama all the time and could not call her because my wife continually checked my cell phone log on the Internet (damn T-Mobile). I wrote to her (never mailed anything) to keep her close to me in my head.

A few days had gone by and I was loosing my mind. I went to T-Mobile and got a pre-paid cell phone chip – which was “untraceable” – that my wife knew nothing about. I then was able to text and call Insane Mama…affording me added pleasure, above and beyond spending time with my two young sons. I spent most of my time either with my sons, writing, doing errands, or texting Insane Mama. I did what I could to be away from my wife. I could see how things were playing out and I knew that we were headed for disaster. The few times that I tried to talk to my wife about my past, what had been going on and my feelings…most of the time I would get responses like, “why would you feel like that? You shouldn’t feel like that.” Or “It doesn’t help anything or any one for you to act all depressed.” That is where communication ceased.

I made a trip back out to the hospital that weekend for a support group meeting….that I knew Insane Mama would be at and as soon as I started driving out there…I began beaming with excitement and felt my whole body open up, as if to reclaim the life that had been drained from it. I basically broke every speed limit and ran several red lights all the way there…at least until I got to a nearby gourmet coffee shop, I knew that she could use a HUGE, rich, dark roast coffee. The coffee at the hospital was nothing more than murky hot water…and it was decaf.

After getting the coffee, I darted off and was there in no time. I pulled up to where the meeting was, parked and (heart pounding) pulled out my make believe sniper scope to find her. Then I saw her, breaking through the crowd of people, seemingly with no concern for anything but me…or the coffee that I was holding…who knows? We embraced. She swooped the coffee out of my hand and took a long slug, smiled and then gave me a big kiss. We talked for a bit as we took a short walk through a field, before the meeting. After the meeting was over, we promised each other that we get together in a few days, when she got out.

Sadness filled my soul as I left. The only thing holding me together was that I knew that we’d see each other in a few days. Or at least that’s what we had agreed upon. I noticed that since I had left the hospital, that there were several other guys vying for her attention. I tried to put all of that out of my head as I drove home…wanting only to remember her touch, her feel, her smell and the words that flowed from her mouth straight into my soul.

To Be Continued…..

Insanely Peeing In The Wind - Part 4

The day I left was complete and utter misery. We were both crying. I continued my lame attempts at negotiation with the doctors to keep me just one more week. They told me that there was no way that I could stay because of insurance issues.

Now, all in all, I felt mentally pretty good. I had my head on straight, was making progress on dealing with many of the things that had landed me there and I had identified the things in my life that needed to change. On the other hand, the one person that I felt closest to and who had been one of the biggest reasons for me getting to that mental state would soon be far too distant for me to swallow.

That morning I had breakfast with her and we exchanged numbers and emails…along with our fears and thoughts. It was one of the hardest mornings I’d had. After breakfast, I had to go to a session with my therapist who wanted to go over all of the discharge things and what my plans were when I went home. My mind was preoccupied with other things at that point and all I could muster to say was, “I don’t want to go home with her.” That was it. The therapist continued to talk as my soul floated away. After my session, I went looking for Insane Mama. I could not find her anywhere. I started to freak out. There were so many more things that I wanted to talk with her about. We needed to make plans for “us” on the outside and spend as much time together as possible before I had to go. I’m sure that I seemed like I was jonesing for drugs, just plain looney or like a psychopathic stalker…the way I was running around, basically yelling at people to tell me where she was. I was a complete lunatic.

I had about given up and was sitting on a bench with my head in my hands. Then I saw her walking down the path towards me. I felt like a child that has just been give a free trip to the moon. My face ignited and I leaped up from the bench and ran to her (kind of like one of those stupid beach commercials about Viagra or something). Our embrace was overwhelming. It was like we just melted into one another. We spent the next 30 minutes together, during which time she told me that she was hiding out because she knew how hard this goodbye would be. We held each other, cried and made out plans for down the road.

It was then that we heard over the loud speaker that I was to report to my room to collect my things and then report to admitting. We stood up, still holding hands, then we hugged and kissed for what we feared would be the last time. I felt every inch of her seeping into me. I knew that If I could keep this feeling and vision inside me…I could make it through anything until we were together again.

Our hands slipped apart as I started down the path to my room. I did the best I could to hide the tears and feelings of dread while on the drive home with my wife. The hard part was enduring the hour ride home hearing her complain about the cost and how much of a waste of time and money it was.

Insanely Peeing In The Wind - Part 3

Now, remember, at this point I was…well shit, still am... married. I did not really want to do anything out of spite, revenge or anything to worsen an already bad situation. BUT… there was no getting around this one. I knew that the feelings that I had, the lust in our eyes and our rendezvous were in several ways, the wrong thing to do…but on the other hand, hiding and subduing my feelings was something that I was at the hospital trying to overcome..

I tried several time…not to like her, but every time I saw her, spoke with her, touched her, and even looked at her…I completely melted inside. I could see in her eyes, her intense honesty, genuine care for me but I also saw that she felt bad, in a way, about what was happening. I knew that she did not want to be any part of my marriage not working out, she told me so. I am sure that this was very hard for her as I knew how she felt, yet she told me several times that we should stop and step away from one another. I knew that I had to be sure about the future of my marriage… as I also did not want a salvageable marriage to be destroyed by …. An intense, lustful relationship centered within the walls of a “loony bin.”

Insane Mama and I spent the next 4 or five days almost solely talking about our marriages, past relationships, what we want in a partner and what we felt that we was missing in our lives. I NEVER thought that I could/would have these conversations with any woman (besides a professional.) I think that goes back to my past, “sub-adult,” relationships with girls where I was the cool guy and they were the pretty girl (that’s all it was.) Also, my wife was not one to listen to feelings or one that would accept that there are importannt things in life that men need …that some women don’t understand. Over the years, I learned to just keep it all inside.

Crap…where am I going with this? Oh yeah…I finally had someone that actually listened, understood, cared, did not judge and could relate to so much of my life. I honestly thought, at points, that she was an angel (well maybe not an angel, but rather a…force(?), an incarnation of GOOD.) No matter what we said to one another or what we did together, the common feeling was honest and genuine caring. I had been able to talk with guy friends in the past and talk with my mother (a psychotherapist) and siblings to an extent, but nothing like this. I could not shock her with my insane past. I could not make her run with my… “issues.” And thankfully, I could not scare her off with bold lustfulness towards her.

As we sat in trauma group sessions, talking about horrific times in our lives, I saddened, to my innermost core (tears flooding the inside of my body) listening to her talk of the ways in which she had been cheated out of aspects of happiness in her life that I knew she deserved. In some of the other group sessions, there was some note passing, winks, smile and attempts at fantasy mind reading. Meals, we always sat together…and if one of us was not there…the other would prepare a plate for them to put aside. Breaks and free time …we were inseparable…except when I had phone calls from my wife. She would give me my space to handle family issues. But as soon as I hung up, she was there to see if there was anything she could do for me…or just to offer an ear. (I know that she heard me yelling, screaming and crying on the phone.)

I think that what “sealed the deal” between her and I was my mastery of a few certain things, that she witnessed (and I am sure could not get out of her mind:) playing cards (poker and spades,) farting and burping on command (with complete tone control,) and especially my unmatched skills on the wiffel ball diamond.

As each of us was to be there for 30 days, and I got there a week before her, I knew that I would be leaving before she did. This thought terrified me. I did not want to leave her. I didn’t know if we would ever see each other again after this place. I was sick to my stomach with these thoughts…I actually tried to convince the doctors that I was not ready to leave…so that I could stay with her. My last week there was filled with nightmares. I did not know that to do. I also remember telling her to just come with me…for her to check herself out with me and that we would just run off together.

As we approached my last days, our time was filled with tears, hugs, prayers and letters to one another, so that we could always have each others thoughts and feelings close. The day I left…

To be continued…

Insanely Peeing In The Wind - Part 2

After lunch was over, everyone would go out to one of the outdoor common areas to talk, play cards, talk on their cell phones and lounge about. A bunch of us had formed a pretty tight “clique” and we all like to sit around playing cards while ragging on each other, having farting and burping contests and talking about the inept doctors (there were several.) Then girl 2 (you should know by now that I am talking about Insane Mama) came out to the deck and asked to watch us play. She joined us and then it was not long before she became a permanent member of “the insane dozen.”

Over the next day or two, I had an opportunity to walk and talk with her about why we were there and about our pasts, etc. Our lives could almost be twins. There were so many things that we had in common; our marriages, our histories with sexual assaults, binge drinking, children, family issues….it was just perfect. We began talking every day…several times. We grew very close to one another and I think that the trust and comfort that I felt towards her was mutual. We talked about everything… I even talked to her about my being sexually assaulted about a dozen years before. That was something that I had never talked to anyone about. I felt THAT comfortable with her.

I knew that she was special. I smiled every time I saw her and every morning could not wait to see her. Nights were a mess because we were separated and my head filled with fantasies, thoughts and images … all about her. I know that she (and most of the people at the hospital) knew how I felt about her. I guess it was obvious by my bringing her flowers, breakfast in bed and slipping her poems at every chance.

This bond that we formed was more special to me than one would think. I had learned, over the past 15 years, that talking to, spending time with and especially bonding with other women was strictly forbidden. Not to mention, the fact that prior to meeting my wife, I honestly had little respect for the girls that I dated. I know that this is going to make me out to be an ass, but it is the truth. I dated a lot of girls over the years and NEVER talked with them about feelings, my past or anything at all that would make me emotionally vulnerable. I hope that my point is getting across to you all… I really wanted to talk to her…and listen to her. I was completely amazed by the fact that I never even attempted to put up any walls between her and I.

There was a special bond between us and I did not want to ruin it by forcing anything. I continued fanaticizing about her and knew that she did about me, we exchanged some of them that we wrote down in the form of letters and poems. I was HOT for her. All I wanted was to be with her every minute of every day. We took long walks at every chance and it seemed that our thoughts and emotions just oozed from our mouths as we held hands and threw wanting glances back and forth. We discussed some of the most troubling and emotional things that we’d been through. I would open up with something earth-shatteringly (??) deep, revealing my innards to her…expecting to, yes, vomit all over her from fear and anxiety of her reaction. But what I found is that it actually made me want her (physically) even more. Is it wrong to get horny from that?

Our relationship deepened on many levels and the touching, holding hands, lustful and loving glances were soon joined by some of the most meaningful kisses that I could ever imagine.

To Be Continued...

Insanely Peeing In The Wind

I know that some of you know about how Insane Mama and I met…but I am going to take this opportunity to put my side of things out there. Now that I am behind schedule and have read some of what IM has written… I have been debating posting mine…but …what the hell.

In May of 2005, I was in one of the worst places (mentally, physically and emotionally) that I have ever been in. I had a disaster of a marriage, two very young boys (the only two things that were holding the very thin strings of my life together.) That was bundled with my years of being unhappy (with myself, my life and everything around me.)

After several attempts at “escaping”, I landed myself at a hospital that dealt with “Dual Diagnosis” (mixture of substance abuse and emotional/psychiatric issues) clients. When I walked into the hospital, I told the intake people that I was “lost.” I had no idea what to do with myself. I was too chicken shit to kill myself but did not want to live as things were. Yes, that is how bad things were at the time.

After meeting with my doctor and getting settled in my room, I began the routine of going to groups to talk about “issues” and spending time in the common areas with the other patients. I quickly learned a few things:
1. There were far fewer “crazy” people there that I expected (most there for severe depression issues)
2. I had A LOT of shit that I needed to get out.
3. I actually did not hate life – I hated what my life had become.

After I started talking in groups and when I learned that writing was going to be a valuable tool for me, I started to really open up. I guess that my stance was that since I was there…I should do everything in my power to get better. There were a lot of people there that just walked the walk and talked the talk. I had done that before and …well… this is where I landed. This time it would be all or nothing.

I knew, from the time I walked out of my first group, that my marriage was over. It saddened me, but I just knew it. The twists and turns that my wife and I had gone through over the past 15 years had left us both scarred and, at least for me, I could not go back to that life. Though I knew that…I still went back and forth in my head about so many issues; the kids, our business, our home, etc.

As a man having been involved with the same woman for since I was 22 years old, and the emotional trauma that I had sustained over those years…I feared being on my own. Would I be alone forever? Would I ever see my children? Had I lost my balls forever? Did I even know how to talk to women anymore? These were all things that terrified me.

I had horrifying flashes of me being a social retard out in the real world. I was so out of tune in so many ways that I started my stay there with an extreme fear of leaving the facility…into the wild.

After the first few days…I knew that I was in the right place. I began writing…a lot. It helped me to organize my thoughts…which enabled me to talk about things in group so that people could understand what I was trying to get out. My writing surprised even me. I knew that I could write ok but did not know if anything coherent would come of just writing without thought, direction or over analysis. I just sat and wrote. I wrote about my childhood, my late teens, young adulthood, my marriage, my sons, being in jail, being sexually assaulted, being adopted and having my balls residing within a certain woman’s purse. All in all it all felt good…just to get it out. Knowing how good it felt to write, I began talking in groups about my writing, sharing my poems and revealing things that I had never spoken of.

Things were going quite well, although the doctors could not seem to find the right mix of medications for me. I would go from zombie to agitated bastard…and back again. But by this time I had met some pretty cool people…and some that I felt shared some of the same history that I did. I felt that I could open up to them to discus what was going on (kind of a continuation of group mixed with my new found “socialization 101.”)

Then, one day, as I was sitting in one of the afternoon groups, two new people came in and were asked to say a little something about why they were there. I elbowed one of the guys next to me , gestured to the second girl and said…”she’s kind of hot.” He nodded, with a smile and told me to control myself. The first girl mumbled her name and said that she would not be able to do or say much for a few days (we all knew that …her body chemistry might be a bit off.) Then the second girl looked up, introduced herself and proceeded to stun the group by making some sexual comments about her recent past (shocking only because it was her first group.) I looked back at my friend and just smiled.

To be Continued...

Dad Number 3 - Update

As an update to my Dad Number 3 - Not Natural or Adoptive...Step post last week, I can now fill you in on the results from his visit to the doctor.

I waited until about 6 o’clock, pacing back and forth since 2PM – waiting for my mother to call me with the update. By six, when she hadn’t called yet, I dropped what I was doing to call for the update. As the phone rang, my head flooded with every scenario imaginable. I asked myself, “Why has she not called? Did something go wrong?” I didn’t know and it was killing me.

When she picked up the other end of the phone…all typical pleasantries went right out the window.

Me – How did it go? How is he?
Mom – Well, I just got done speaking with a doctor friend of ours who is here at the hospital with us. He said that the surgeries went well and that things looked good.
Me – So he is going to be OK?
Mom – It looks that way. We won’t really know until he gets into recovery.
Me – What were the details? What did they find?
Mom – Well it was worse than we had all thought. During his 4 hour surgery, he had to have 7 bypasses.
Me – Holy shit! I have never heard of that. The most I have heard of is four.
Mom – Yeah … Me too.
Me – So, what now?
Mom – Well after he is in recovery I will be able to talk more with the doctors.
Me – Please call me after that. I really want to know how things are going.
Mom – I will.
Me – How are you doing?
Mom – Better now, but there is still a long recovery ahead. He won’t be able to work for at least 8 to 10 weeks.
Me – How long will he have to be on bed rest
Mom – about 2 weeks
Me – then he can start doing things?
Mom – Only what he feels like he can handle.

Needles to say, I was floored….seven bypasses?! I could hear in my mother’s voice that she was completely frazzled. Knowing my step-dad, I know that this will be a huge adjustment for him. He is very factual, but hard headed. For him to stay away from work, eggs, ice cream, bacon, butter, heavy lifting and….stress will be undoubtedly the hardest thing that he has had to do. This is why I am so worried.

I am going to call again for another update. I need to know that everything is going to be ok.

Dad Number 3 - Not Natural or Adoptive...Step

The phone rang, with an unexpected, yet familiar number. I was about to head out the door to 5,000 stairs that lead down to the boat dock to go jet skiing when my cell phone rang. I looked over at where my phone was, trying to decide if I should answer it or not. I walked over and looked at the number that was calling…I knew it…but it did not register, I thought to myself that If it was someone that I really did not want to talk to, I could just say that I was on vacation or busy and get rid of them. This was NOT the case, It was my older sister. I had not spoken to her on the phone for some time now so she we went through some mild formalities about life and how things are going. Then she said, “Well, I am calling for something pretty specific.” My mind race. What could she be calling about? She never calls me for nothing. It has got to be big.

She then proceeded to tell me that my father (he is actually my step father, but he raised me and I refer to him as my dad) was going into the hospital for exploratory heart surgery. Coincidentally, at that point…my heart stopped. I expressed my surprise, fear and anxiety over what she was saying. This all coming after I finished saying that things were so good and I was f-ing around on the lake and basically doing nothing for ten days…. And that MY life sucked due to all of the stress I’VE been going through lately. Then I went on to tell her about the pregnancy of one of my childhood friends…what an ass I am. Why didn’t I just ask what was wrong from the beginning?

So I asked her what was going on…has he been sick? How long have there been symptoms, etc. She explained to me that for the past few weeks, he had been experiencing some stress and mild chest pain…but nothing major. After she filled me in and I had a basic idea of what was going on, I thanked her for calling, told her that I’d keep in touch and then called my mother. Dialing the number, I had, yet another, brain vomit….I had no idea what to say. I have been through so much lately that I felt as though I have used up all of my “It’ll just come outs”. As I heard her voice, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt on top of an, almost, uncontrollable urge to cry. I knew that me crying would send her over the edge. She is a strong woman, but very emotional at the same time. The guilt that I felt was due to the fact that I never really got the chance to tell my step father (dad) just how much he meant to me…until just recently through a birthday / father’s day EMAIL where I started to tell him about his effects on me.

Anyway, it was her voicemail, I left a message with my mother and then with my dad saying that I was thinking of them and loved them…..I needed to speak with someone!

Then today, I got another phone call, I must have been out …it was a voicemail…This time from my younger sister. I had not hear from her in a while either. I listened to the message and heard that the exploratory surgery that my father had gone in for lead to him having to stay in the hospital for the 4 occlusions that they had found. QUADROUPLE BYPASS SURGERY! Shit!

I called my mother…who was controllably…. FREAKING OUT! I spoke with her for a while and she seemed to be doing ok, but I could tell that she was out of her mind worried. I felt as though I was going to explode. Over the past 2 weeks, I had been through divorce court, meeting my birth mother and now this. I could hardly hold back the tears.

I know that I would have a hard time explaining my father to you so, I’ll just say that he is the guy that has always been there…has always been strong…has always been logical…and ALWAYS loving. But at the same time…very factual and particular. The kind of guy that makes it hard to say things like “I love you” or whatever the sentiment. In the days that I was just coming to be able to express these things towards him….this happens.

After hanging up with my mother, I quickly dialed the number of my father in his hospital room. As per the norm, he answered by saying his first and last name. Very typical for him…I just did not expect that from his hospital room. We spoke for a few minutes and went through the procedure and what led up to it. He seemed in good spirits, informed me that this would in no way transform him into a “vegan” and that my mother’s plans of implementing a strict diet were far fetched. I only agreed with him. I wanted to make him feel as comfortable as possible. I could sense that he was nervous and that he was scared about the procedure. After letting him know that I loved him and that we were thinking of him I asked if there was anything that I could do or if he needed anything. He just replied with, “ no….everything will be fine and we’ll call you after the surgery.

I have to say that I feel like a complete asshole. I don’t know that I ever, sincerely told him that I loved him or how much he really meant to me....as an adult. I have been beating myself up all day because of that and that fact that I have not been closer to him over the past few years. We have kind of drifted apart. He is one of those people who appears to be very opinionated and through all of the shit that I have been through over the years…I felt scared and uncomfortable opening up to.

I then called and talked to his son (my step brother) who was doing a horrible job disguising his anxiety…actually, he was completely flipping out. I did not know what to say to him other that my lame attempts at reassuring him that everything was going to be fine and that dad was a strong guy and he would be ok.

This whole thing has really taken its toll on me as I was completely unprepared for it and I am here, on vacation, with IM’s family…trying to laugh, play, and have fun on the lake for the week. While everyone is running around playing and having a good time, I have been trying to hide the shut down that I feel coming on. My stomach is in knots, my head is back to spinning and I seem to be just going through the motions with the rest of the gang here. I will find out today what happens. He goes into surgery in about an hour.

I think that I will “check out” for the next few hours as to not think about it. It seems to be my only option right now.