Monday, April 6, 2009

Forked Tongues

With all the "alone" time I've had the last ten weeks, I've spent a great deal of it thinking about where I came from, how I arrived at this moment in time, my mistakes (a lot), my triumph's (a few) and all the would'a, could'a, should'as that I let slip by me.

Some passed by me deliberately -- or simply by design. Other's were too good to be true and my kitten curiosity got the better of me so I took a much closer look, got scratched, and set them on their way again.

Then there were the opportunities that I sought out willingly; having researched all the angles and having viewed everything under an electron microscope, I thought for certain they would be the right things for me to pursue.

What I didn't know at the time, nor did I listen to what people were trying to tell me -- I refused to listen -- has taken me 14 months to finally figure out on my own.

One of my biggest flaws is that I try very hard to see the good in every person. A person can take advantage of me numerous times, sometimes over a period of several years, before I finally have an epiphany.

As difficult as it was to realize, it was much harder to admit to myself, that there really are people in this world who whisper sweet nothings in your ear, tell you everything you want to hear, treat you like you exist only for them, all the while luring you and others into their evil games with promises of 'forever' dripping off their forked tongues.

Once they have you trapped, they fall back on an imagined addiction and how they need to get "sober" and -- POOF! -- they drop completely off the radar.

They don't bother telling you that you have served your purpose for their little games first so you can attempt to find some sort of closure, that would be too easy. They just vanish.

Then they pop up again, attempting to pick up where they left off before they needed to get "sober". So, you listen to them, your heart aching for everything they've been through. Then you find out that they've been recruiting others just like you since they dropped off the radar with you.

And then, they fall off the radar again, as abruptly as they had reappeared just hours before. This time you are not content with the "addiction", "sober" crap that they have been spoon feeding you and you vow to get the last word.

*Note I said 'word'.*

People like this don't know the meaning of the word respect, they don't realize that what THEY are doing is the sole cause of pain to those closest to them.

I guess some of them are just lucky enough to have a person who always has (and always will be) their "clean-up person".

These people don't have "addictions", what they really have, in their own minds, are justifications for treating people horribly without any consequences whatsoever.

They don't know what love is, they've never felt it, or given it.

They don't know when a person with the purest of intentions comes to them. All they see is their next victim.

They can wish someone all the "love and happiness in the world" they want.

It will never make up for the people they almost destroyed while they were so hell-bent on playing their evil games.

25 Things About Me

  1. My astrological sign is Taurus. I'm stubborn and strong-willed.
  2. I freely admit when I'm wrong. Usually. Even to my kids. Especially.
  3. My nickname is "Pickles Annie". My dad still calls me "Pickles" or "Annie". Usually it's "Annie". My dad and grandfather gave me the nickname because I love pickles.
  4. I am the fourth child of five, after three sons. I have a younger sister.
  5. My parents are divorced and remarried. To different people, silly!
  6. My eldest brother, Jimmy, died in a car wreck on March 29, 1979 when he was 18 years old. I was 11.
  7. I graduated 25 years to the day and date after my mother on June 9, 1985.
  8. I went to my five year reunion but none since.
  9. I was a cheerleader for football and basketball.
  10. I had my first son, Matthew, on September 6, 1989 when I was 22. He weighed 10 lbs. and was 23 inches long.
  11. I had my second son, Connor, on November 18, 1993 when I was 26.
  12. Alexander, my third son, was born and died September 13, 1995. The pain NEVER subsides; it just becomes a comfortable ache.
  13. My youngest son, Hunter, was born on February 2, 1997.
  14. My stepson, Jake, was born on June 9, 1993.
  15. Henry is my fourth -- and final -- husband. We met via Yahoo!
  16. We own a yacht. We keep it on Lake St. Clair. This is the second yacht we have owned.
  17. My husband and I are certified SCUBA divers.
  18. We have two Jeeps -- "HIS GP" and "HER GP".
  19. I’m a damn good snowboarder!
  20. I broke my left elbow on St. Patrick's Day 2007.
  21. I broke my nose in May 2008.
  22. I model formal/bridal gowns part-time.
  23. I play paintball with my husband and boys.
  24. I broke my left foot on January 25, 2009.
  25. I turn “42” this year. I suspect THAT will hurt like hell, too.

(updated 04/06/09)

Sounds of Silence

Well, kind of.

It's almost 2 o'clock in the morning and my house is mostly quiet.

There are two "tickingtocking" clocks that are hung on walls approximately 10 feet apart. They have never "ticked" or "tocked" at the same time since we've owned them, so there is a constant chattering that I can't get away from.

Sometimes it seems like my heart beats with both their rhythms and when I pay close attention to all three, they drown everything else out.

Until something breaks the silence.

Like Hunter shifting positions in his bed directly above where I am sitting. Or the dog, Oreo, snoring. Or, thanks to Mother Nature and the winter storm warning, the thunder and lightning going on outside the doorwall next to me. The forecasters say we might be receiving 10 inches of snow so the winter storm warning is in effect until 8 p.m. tonight (Monday).

I've had a lot of silent time on my hands lately. Ten weeks worth...and still counting. Yep. Ten whole weeks since I broke my foot and boy did that open up a Pandora's Box of health issues I never saw coming.

When I saw the "Wizard of Feet" eight weeks after I broke my foot and it was clear to my untrained eye -- and confirmed by the "Wizard" -- that there had yet to be any healing taking place, and after he explained the only option available to me would be surgery, I knew what I needed to do next. Have a complete blood work-up.

The first set of lab results showed my serum (blood) Calcium to be high. This is not good. The second set of labs showed my Parathyroid Hormones to be high, too. (A "normal" PTH reading is between 10 - 65; mine is 105.)

My doctor referred me out for a Dexa-Scan (bone density scan) as well as to an Endocrinologist. Both of which I accomplished last week.

My bones look good -- no signs of osteoporosis yet -- and the Endocrinologist ordered a whole new set of labs PLUS a 24-hour urine. (A 24-hour urine is simply capturing ALL of your urine for, yep, 24-hours in a big lab container, while keeping it refrigerated.)

If you've ever done one of these without a broken-no-weight-bearing-foot; consider yourselves lucky.

The lab tech who drew my blood for the Endocrinologist actually works for the lab who tests all the labs drawn in that office.

One would think, at least I did, that said lab tech would actually know what the hell she was doing when doing a venipuncture.

Five tiger-top tubes of blood later and a hematoma (knot) where she poked me, that lasted more than 24 hours, and the resulting bruise that makes me look like a drug addict and I think she should never draw blood again.

Ah...'ticktock'...'ticktock'...the sounds of silence...