I walked through the front doors at the endoscopy center with an attitude. I was irritable because I didn't sleep well last night. I was walking slowly because my stomach was still aching from the spasms brought on by the laxative prep. Throwing up 11 times last night didn't help matters much...especially when the dry heaves took over.

Sitting in front of me at the receptionist's desk was a friendly, smiling face. I almost did a double-take because she wore a bandana around her head. Short, pure white wisps of hair stuck out of one side. She greeted me warmly and asked me how I was feeling. I looked into her eyes and saw sincerity and concern...I looked down at the desk and saw the engagement ring on her finger.

Guilt permeated my body which morphed into self-loathing.

"You Big Baby!" I screamed at myself inwardly.

I smiled back at her and told her that I was OK. I wondered how she was feeling and felt sure that her pain far exceeded mine. All that she was going through herself and she still had the energy and good attitude to help me.

I watched her for the entire 30 minutes that I sat in the waiting room, and her cheerfulness never waned. She enjoyed telling the nurse about the new shoes she'd purchased at DSW. She greeted each new patient with the same level of kindness and care.

"She's a better person than I am. I am so, so small," I kept thinking.

The procedures went smoothly although I felt both of them and had to be given additional sedation. I only have a vague memory now that they both hurt quite a bit. The biopsies will be completed in 4 days. During that time, I'll get my ultrasound done to insure I'm not having issues with my ovaries.

I was extremely woozy when we got home and I bolted straight to the bathroom. When I walked out, Husband was on the phone with a former neighbor. His mouth was hanging wide open.

Jill: Is everything OK?

Husband, nodding: Catherine had a baby.

Jill: Catherine who?

Husband: Our old next door neighbor, Catherine.

Jill: That's impossible. I saw her less than 3 months ago. She wasn't pregnant!


...Well, apparently she was.

She'd been seeing her doctor for the last 2 months and had endured a barrage of blood tests and an MRI. Finally, 4 days ago, the doctor discovered that was Catherine pregnant.

Yesterday, he determined that she was seven months pregnant.

No one knew including Catherine herself. The doctor was immediately concerned because the baby wasn't surrounded by amniotic fluid. So Catherine was hospitalized last night for an induced the delivery. "The baby won't be alive," he told her. "It won't have skin or eyes or toe nails." He was trying to prepare her for a stillborn birth, and I can only imagine her horror.

Catherine's labor and ultimate delivery happened very quickly, and last night she held the baby in her arms. He weighs 4 pounds and he's got skin and eyes and everything else but he's being tested extensively. No one is willing to state for sure that he will make it, but several folks in the neighborhood are talking about this baby being a miracle.

I look back at the day and just shake my head. Pain. Fear. Guilt. Self-disgust. Smiles. Hope. And Little Miracles. Life isn't always perfect, but it is full and rich and filled with surprises.

Dear God,

I know that you don't give people more than they can handle, but please know this: I am fatigued from the pain, the incessant cramping, the bruning, the aching. I hurt from the bloating and the stabbing spasms every time I eat. I'm tired of not leaving the house. And I'm so so angry with myself that it all has broken me down to a sobbing lump of misery.

What is wrong with me and how bad is this going to be? Am I being punished for some horrible act that I don't even know that I committed? Am I cursed? What did I do??

This ongoing pain is not normal, and frankly, I need a break. I realize that people suffer far greater for longer periods of time, but I'm breaking. Barely walking and feeling despondent. This horrible prep medicine is killing me. Why do they have to make sick people feel even sicker just for a test?

I just wanted you to know that I'm tired and my mojo is dwindled from the constant, grinding hurt. I need your help, please.

I broke down crying in the shower today.

I was overcome with fear and dread from all that has happened this year. Losing my mom and sister. My dad's health is dwindling every.single.day. I have no idea what is causing my ongoing stomach issues and my mind has started creating worst-case scenarios.

Is it possible for an entire family to be wiped out in a single year? Is this the way that life operates? Unspeakable tragedy lies dormant for 40 years and then Kapow!

I kept thinking about Princess Di. Unhappy for so many years and then dying when she seemed to have found happiness. Like a cruel joke, tragedy has a way of mocking us when we feel safe, reminding us that our lives are no different that that of a bug. We can be crushed outta nowhere at any place, any time.

I'm 42 years old and I don't want to be sick for the rest of my life. I'm not ready to die yet, and I don't want my father or sister or husband or in-laws or nieces or nephews to die yet either. I want to revel in this cocoon of happiness that is still new to me. I want to enjoy the peaceful lifestyle that we worked so hard to attain. I want to experience the joy of being a parent and I have yet to do something truly significant.

I am 42 years old, and I am not Done.

The Three Quadrants.

There's only one word that adequately describes it...and that word is Rot.

I'm talking about my stomach just below my rib cage and how it feels when I press down on it. If I eat anything even slightly spicy, I have atomic bombs going off throughout my chest cavity and up into my throat...despite the fact that I take Protonix twice a day. Oh, and when I take it at night? The back of my throat fizzes like an alka seltzer and I have to keep my mouth shut so the sound doesn't keep my husband awake.

Then there is my mid-section intestine that is achy and crampy all the time. That area is so sensitive I can't allow a cat to sit on my belly anymore.

And below that, I've got my reproductive system that is raging inside of me. The cramps are so bad they feel as though someone is shredding me with a garden claw. Advil and Alleve are out of the question because it feels as though my stomach has been splashed with acid after taking either one. And that really hurts the Rot in a blistering kind of way.

Sometimes I daydream of just having everything cut out of me. Slice me open and turn me upside down. Let all of the bad stuff fall out.

I could be fed intravenously...I could also get a colostomy. And Lord knows that my womanly plumbing is doing nothing for me other than causing me excrutiating pain. (Don't even get me started on the fact that it refuses to do the one thing it's supposed to do and get pregnant.)

Yup, the way I figure it is that my life would be close to perfect without those three quadrants.

But seriously now. I am sick and tired of the pain. All of it.

Friday is the Big Day, but now I am completely freaked out because my Dad told me that he felt his colonoscopy and it was the most awful pain. I had told him that I was going to be put in a state of conscious sedation, and he confirmed that was what his doctor did to him. Now I'm worried that I'll be able to feel the procedure. And what about the Upper GI? If I even think about something going down my throat I'll throw up. Tongue depressors? Throw up. Inhale a bug? Throw up. Brush the back of my throat with my toothbrush? Throw up. Hmmm. Can a person insist on being totally put under?

Oy vey. Now my head hurts and my heart is stricken with fear. Two more quadrants giving me problems, but I can't afford to get rid of those too. Food no longer brings me comfort, nor does sleeping. Thank goodness for hot baths.

And So It Goes.

Sometime yesterday morning:

Caller: Hello, may I please speak to Jill?

Jill: (thinking: hmmm...I've heard this voice before) This is Jill.

Caller: Hi Jill, this is Mary call from Assisted Care Facility. How are you?

Jill: (blood has suddenly turned cold, the heart is feeling squeezed.) I'm fine is everything OK?

Caller: Well, yes, everything is OK. I just wanted to let you know that we found your father on the bathroom floor last night. He seemed to be OK. Angie helped him up and got him back to bed. He said that his legs were very tired and he just went down.

Dad appears to be OK although he can't walk for more than a few yards. After 50 phone calls between him, me and my sister, we outvoted him 5:1 to go to the hospital for assessment. He refused.

So this got us thinking. Husband and I made the call today. We have asked Dad to move in with us. We will modify the basement (it's finished and he'll have about 1,200 square feet) to create a private bedroom/bath suite, and we'll install one of those stair lifts to help him up and down. He can go out most any (non-snowing) day for his regular (Rascal) jaunts to KFC, Walgreens and Target. We can play canasta and chess on a regular basis. And I'll be able to keep a closer eye on him.

Husband is incredibly supportive of the idea, in fact, he is the one who mentioned it again this morning. After all that he did to help me with my mom before she passed away, I am awestruck at his continued generosity of spirit. Truth be told, he genuinely loves my Dad.

And so do I.

(Shaking head) Never, ever in my life did I think that I would invite and want my parents to live with us. But something inside of me has changed forever and I want him here with us.

Dad has promised to consider the offer. My hope is that he accepts.

Compulsive Is My Middle Name.

If anyone had told me that I would one day find Serenity and Satisfaction from stringing tiny, little beads together, I would have cackled like a hen and then broken down into hysterical wheezing. Never, never have I spent my time doing something so mindless or arthritis inducing. Now, I turn up the Collin Raye and allow myself to daydream as I randomly pluck little sead beads up with a wire. These are just a few of my creations...all done in one day...on my very first day of making jewelry. I'm hooked.

One final unsolicited product plug

Whenever I get great service and a fantastic finished product,...I want to shout it from the rooftops. This is a photo of the printed album that I created and received from shutterfly. It's really cool - and their software program allowed me to create the layout for each page. One photo or multiple photos...captions or not. It's a beautiful thing.

Another photo from the dude ranch

"Yee-Haw!"

The singing cowboy got our fingers snappin' and our toes tappin'.

We sang old favorites like Laredo (5 verses), Jingle Jangle Jingle, On the Road Again, Sioux City Sue and Back in the Saddle Again. My dad ate an entire plate of barbeque ribs, beans, steak and a biscuit drowning in country gravy. He was so happy he cried throughout the entire evening.

I copied all of my vacation photos onto the shutterfly site and created these. I cannot tell you how awesomely beautiful the finished product looks. The site software makes the upload and organization process simple. And the printed photos are gorgeous. Both my sister and my dad were utterly surprised and downright tickled.

I think he learned to sleep like this from my husband.

In fact, I'm sure of it.




ps This cat is a manx and that's his little tail-stub sticking straight up. His brother is trying to pretend that it isn't there.

Unable to blog. The stomach is aching and cramping, I'm sleeping most of the day. I can't wait to get scoped (upper and lower) to figure out what the heck is wrong. Celiac? Crohn's? It's anybody's guess at this point.

My Final Post for the Night

The Ranch

"According to the saying of an ancient philosopher, one should eat to live, and not live to eat" Moliere

Between the lobster, barbque steak, chocolate bombe, bananas foster, crispy waffles and extra thick bacon....they sure made it difficult if not downright impossible.

I used to be what I call a Mamby Pamby.

I was so stretched, so overworked, so stressed out that everything Set Me Off. I was angry, nay volcanic when faced with poor service, offensive treatment or blatant disregard. I was ready to complain, litigate and levy revenge at every slight directed at me. At times, my anger and/or indignation was downright silly.

• The store clerk who told me that I look like Rosie O'Donnell in front of my husband.
• The person who cut in front of me in line at the toll both.
• The guy at the meat market who gave me the darker (and seemingly older) cut of beef.
• The fireplace guy who installed the new mantle over 3 weeks late.
• The outplacement consultant who laughed when I told her I'd love to be a plus-size model.
• The fitness store rep who asked me if I was sure I was ready to lift weights. (She lost the sale.)

Believe me, I could go on. I was basically ticked at everyone and everything, and I felt that I needed to achieve some type of justice in this world because I sure as hell wasn't getting it from my chosen lifestyle. So I was going to make my point with each and every "injustice." Needless to say, I was not a happy person.

Now, I am a Kinder and Gentler Jill. There just isn't a whole lot that lights my flares. I suppose that most of my internal change came from losing my sister and my mother within 3 months of each other.

I snapped like a green bean.

And I realized that most of my fights simply weren't worth it. I'll take my business elsewhere, or pity the poor idiot who discounts the value and contributions from an overweight person. Really, their ignorance is their loss. And I'm happy enough to just go my merry way.

Somehow, I have figured out that my life is too precious to waste on being angry or seeking retribution all of the time. I don't want the word "Unhappy" to describe me or my life and I was coming awfully close.

The horses are being moved South for the winter in about 3 weeks. Apparently, the weather can drop as low as -40 degrees in Wyoming, so they are going to spend a nice, relaxing winter in Arizona.

Family is still here in Denver for the next couple of days. In the meantime, this was our view from the ranch. Stunning.

My Dad treated us to a week at a Dude Ranch in Wyoming. It was wonderful and soooo good to spend time with my sister Denise, her husband, her grandson, my husband and my Dad. Photos tomorrow.

Reading these stories makes me just sick to my stomach. I am utterly heartbroken over the abuse these poor people had to endure. I cannot believe that children, both boys and girls, were raped and murdered. I can't stand the thought of the sick, disabled and elderly being abandoned or robbed.

I blame the Louisana Govenor and every LA state politician. FEMA was a pitiful No Show. And the President should have done something about all of this sooner.

"Gah."

(Link borrowed from here at a site that I read every day. Thanks, Jen.)

The House That Gets A Second Chance

My parents never slept in the same bedroom after I was born. They fought with each other every day in a never-ending battle to Be Right. The real struggle was over my dad's inability to hold a job and adequately support his family. Oh, and the drinking was a real problem too.

I don't blame my mom for being bitter. After she passed away, my sister and I sorted through all of her old papers, notes and photos. It's obvious that she truly loved my dad in the early years and then there was a slow and tedious decent into bitterness and unhappiness.

My dad barely made $100 per month throughout all of my childhood. He was frequently fired from his jobs or he quit. My mom had to make a lot of phone calls to family members to borrow money. That must have killed her.

Yet through all of those awful years of yelling, cussing and threatening one another, my mom defended my dad at all times to other people.

I can't figure this out. She was so desperately unhappy yet she refused to leave him, refused to divorce, and refused to admit the problems to anyone outside of the immediate family.

The only time I ever saw her happy was in her last year when she lived with us. Conversely, my dad is the happiest now that he has ever been. Five months after mom's death.

Why, why, why did these people stay in such a belligerent, anxious situation?

These thoughts keep racing through my mind, in part because their house is on the market and I'm preparing to say Goodbye to it forever. My parents owned it for over 50 years and never did anything to maintain or fix it up. They were too busy arguing and being miserable. Now, there is a couple that absolutely loves the house and is making an offer on it.

This lovely, little house withstood an incessant, radiating angst from all five of its inhabitants. My parents, who truly despised one another. An my sisters and me...who lamely tried to dodge the bitterness and often took it out on each other.

But now the slate is wiped clean and any trace of my family has been removed from the house. Hopefully, a new family will move in and build happy memories there.

Tomorrow will be a good day.

A church in the Denver area is collecting supplies for the victims of Katrina. Walmart has agreed to transport them all of the way down South to the people of Louisiana and Mississippi. Our personal contribution includes boxes of clothing, non-perishable food and hygiene products.

A group of evacuees arrived in Denver earlier this evening. Only one plane touched down - there were supposed to be five. Hopefully, those folks will arrive here tomorrow. I plan to contact the Red Cross to see how I can help onsite and in-person.

Husband and I are also doing some volunteer work for a local Animal Shelter, which was scheduled before the Katrina disaster.

I am so thankful that we are settled here in Colorado and safely tucked away in our new home. When I was washing the kitchen counters this morning, I gave a silent a prayer of thanks for even having a kitchen to clean.

Life can be so brutally harsh. Every good day is one to be celebrated and shared.

The incessant spam has led me to require word verification on this blog. My apologies, it's a klugy solution but the unwanted spam is...well...unwanted.

A letter to George W

Dear Mr. President,

I am a Republican, and I am deeply ashamed at the government's insipid response to Hurricane Katrina. Your personal involvement took too long. Your speech writers did an implorable job with your first national address. You and the state senators/congressmen should have been onsite immediately to lead the recovery and security efforts. Rudy Giuliani would have been there, I guarantee it.

Mr. President, you squandered an opportunity to rise to a great leadership position. And I'm pissed, Sir.

The cycling criticism about this week's relief efforts are warranted. Some folks may be playing politics, but for the most part the objections hold merit.

Kanye West's comments were idiotic and damaged the sincere donation efforts by the artists and NBC network. But he's just a celebrity. Too caught up in himself so he voiced a personal opinion rather than work for the greater cause.

That being said, your terminally slow response to help the people of New Orleans opened the door for that kind of comment. Do you hate black people? I don't think so. Were you ridiculously late in addressing the problems and getting help onsite? Yes, absolutely. Am I stunned by the government's lethargy earlier this week. You bet, especially when this storm was a Category 5 rampage on course for a direct hit to New Orleans for almost a week before it hit. C'mon! What was FEMA and the LA state lawmakers doing! Aren't they paid to be prepared?

The busses were late. The meals were late. The security and rescue personnel were late. In the corporate world, the managing directors of these programs would have been FIRED.

I certainly hope that you take the time to evaluate the response processes from this last week and fix the system. Your advisors and operations personnel need to be replaced with people who are skilled at emergency response, operational leadership and PR.

We are a great nation. We have plenty of people and resources to address this catastrophe. We just needed the leadership to make it happen.

I am profoundly disappointed. And ashamed. Because I like to believe that what happened last week is not who we are.

The Rant

Patience has never been one of my virtues.

So these last few days have been extremely difficult for me. I watch the endless footage of the unraveling of New Orleans, and I want to see improvements in the help that people are getting. Like, Right Now.

Aren't we the ones who air-dropped food and water to the citizens of Afghanistan? Is my memory foggy or didn't we provide them with the necessities via air drops? (And pleeze don't respond back to me and tell me that all of our resources are overseas in an unnecessary war...we have plenty of people, planes and supplies right here.)

Where are those damned busses? Surely the surrounding states could commandeer their city busses, greyhound busses, etc. to send to New Orleans.

And where is the Leadership? People at the SuperDome and elsewhere need direction and it appears that they are not getting any. Okay, communications systems are down. But surely, someone could be there with a bullhorn to keep people informed.

What is taking so long to get people and supplies into the city? Am I supposed to be impressed with 2800 after 3 days? I'm not.

For a city that exists below sea level, surrounded by levees...one would think that they would have had a better disaster plan in place.

We have already made our donation, and there is nothing else that I can do but sit and watch these poor people try to survive. It's excrutiating. If they come to Colorado, I will be ready and able to help.

Until then, I am left wondering when the relief is going to kick in and these people will be able to get out of the war zone.