Today is my five-year wedding anniversary. Five years ago today my husband and I were standing on the pier at my parents home in FL – exchanging vows to spend the rest of our lives together.
It was a beautiful, but windy day and amazingly over 100 people came to see us marry. Most of them dear friends who traveled from Chicago. We are blessed to have such wonderful friends who wanted to share in our happiness.
Five months prior to our wedding was an engagement made from fairy tales. My friend, Delreen, and I went to LA for a girls’ weekend. Took in all of the tourist traps and enjoyed wine and dinner for three nights. On the last day there, Bill showed up and proposed to me on Redondo Beach. It was so romantic and so very unexpected.
And truthfully, that is how our marriage is – romantic and always unexpected.
I know five years isn’t much. Even my first marriage lasted longer. And Bill’s first marriage was over 20 years. But, in just five years, I feel as though we have climbed mountains.
We have blended two families, seen each other through major medical issues and somehow along the way – maintained that spark – that untouchable feeling that makes you fall in love with someone again and again.
In the most horrific of situations – we can make each other laugh. We can cry – knowing that the other is going to not only wipe the tears away – but the pain, too.
Each night we kiss before we fall asleep and as mundane as that might sound – I think it makes all the difference. And before Bill leaves for work each morning, as I lie sound asleep – I know he kisses me goodbye.
We share each others’ dreams and we support each others passions. I know that I am a better person because of Bill – and what more could I ask of a partner?
We have survived a lot in just five years – and I can only hope that that means the next 20 years will be nothing but bliss… But, I know better.
More importantly, I know it doesn’t matter what lies ahead – because I know we will get through it – and in the end we will smile and laugh and be thankful that we have each other.
I know this all might seem like some sappy Hallmark card or Lifetime movie – but I speak from the heart when I say that I love my husband.
I love who he is and I love who he helps me to be. More than anything, I love who we are together.
I love our dreams for the future and though, sometimes trying, I love everyday we have until then.
We always smile when we see the movie, “As Good as it Gets,” with Jack Nicholson – because we say that if this is as good as it gets – we are going to be okay.
This year, in particular, has started bittersweet. Bill has been rather sick and it has been tough at times but we also found out that our two older daughters will each be having babies: a boy and a girl. What could be more exciting?
I think grandchildren are the icing on the cake when it comes to a blended family – I see them as the glue that will hold everyone together – and make us a real family. I could not be more thrilled to move on to this next stage and to share with Bill the joy of being grandparents.
At the same time, Abby will go to Jr. High this fall – a stage that I am unsure I am ready for. It is fortunate that Bill has already “ been there” because I know that it could be the hardest time I have had. (That is if history repeats itself and Abby and I share in the same relationship I had with my mom!)
I think that there is one place above all else where we share ourselves and our dreams the most: our cabin.
We bought it together years before we were married and I know that many friends thought it was crazy – odd – ridiculous – to buy something as a couple without any real legal partnership.
But, there was a time when we put this puzzle together and it was a picture of a cottage in the middle of nowhere on a lake and the two of us both dreamed of how we would live there one day and everything would be perfect.
When we found this cabin – we knew it was THAT place – that place where nothing else mattered – where everything we believed about our love would remain true and steadfast.
And it has and it does – continue to renew our love each time we are there. It is as though it is magical.
(The renovation of the cabin was not magical…It was horrible – but, we survived it and that probably makes us love it that much more!)
We are lucky not only to have found each other but to appreciate each other – not only the things we love to do together but to respect and encourage the things the other is passionate about.
Sure there are days when we get irritated with one another – but in the end – every night comes that little kiss that lets us each know – we are always in this together and our love is something to never take for granted.
Happy Anniversary, Bill… I love you!
Friday, April 30, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Truths: Men Still Living in a Cave
I never considered myself NOT a “morning person.” But according to my husband who is home right now… I am not a “morning person.”
Hmmm?
I guess I do have a routine… get my daughter off to school, make myself my chocolate milk (a habit I learned at age 7 when my dad would get me up before he left for work and make me chocolate milk and we would talk for 30 minutes about all of the problems in the world – something I will never forget and maybe the chocolate milk is my daily reminder of that time), and go up to my office, check my emails and write this blog.
No, I guess I don’t want to talk to anyone – I just want that time to wake-up, to gradually join the real world and to write. I used to journal everyday – and now this blog has taken that role in my life. There is something rather comforting to me about exploring your emotions as you wake up for the day and get ready to take charge of the next couple of hours.
So, this morning as I was stirring my milk, he pointed out my silence – he said, “you talk to other people in the morning – just not me.”
“Really? Who?”
Well, when we have company you talk to them in the morning.”
“What? Are you kidding me? You have to be nice to company!”
He managed a laugh. And, I came upstairs to do my thing.
In about 8 years my husband will retire – maybe sooner.. and above all else it is my mornings that I worry about.
I don’t want to sit and hear him read that paper outloud, I don’t care about the statistics of any sports, I don’t want to know his every move – such as: I am going to make coffee now, I am going to shower now, etc…
And most of all, I do not want to have to start planning my day the minute I get the milk out of the fridge!
Like today, we have a Dr. apt. and right away as I WAS taking the milk out – he was like, “Well, what time should we leave, do WE need to get directions?”
UGH… all things we talked about yesterday… I managed to get out, “8:30 and we can look it up on the internet.”
And when I mean “we” we all know I mean, “I.”
The other thing that drives me crazy after I have woken up is the schedule men keep no matter what is going on around them. There is no deviating from it.
Since I fractured my foot (yep, two stress fractures as of Monday) and my husband is home this morning he offered to take Abby to school since I am supposed to limit my driving…BUT, he had to get ready and taking her at 7am – well, that was right in the middle of his schedule… How on earth was he going to do that?
And, he didn’t. He was upstairs getting ready and could cut his schedule by 5 minutes so I drove her.
If my husband ever oversleeps for work – he never skips any of his routine – he still showers, shaves etc… I remember being late for work and dissing the shower, putting my hair up and running out the door –disheveled.
Maybe its because we are women and we know that if anything is going to have to adapt it is us. When we are pregnant we give up lots of things we love, pop, alcohol, sleep…when the kids come we give up lengthy showers, doing our nails, fussy haircuts. We give up what we look like so that we can get our kids out the door in something other than PJ’s.
When our kids are older we give up clean cars and trade them in for soccer lockers and candy stores – wrappers all over.
When we have surgery or a procedure we give up the food and the drink for 12 hours without whining about it.
And, when we have to be somewhere in the morning, earlier than we like – we skip our routine and get right to it.
Men don’t do these things… their mornings are a routine that they don’t sacrifice.
I am still irritated and in disbelief about it all.
And, sure, I am protective of my routine – and when there is time for it – I will make sure I get it…but there is always the but – but if I don’t have time…it is the first thing to go in my day – no matter how precious it is to me.
Which brings me to the last irritation I am having these days… men and illness -. As you know my husband has had two surgeries in the last week and while they aren’t serious – they were painful and this whole condition we are dealing with is horrible… and I feel bad for him.
But, now that I have these two stress fractures and have this boot I have to wear and am not supposed to drive… I, too, have a problem and yet, my problem is so back seat to his.
I can still drive the kids wherever they need to be, get the groceries, make dinner, and vacuum the whole house… I asked if he could dig some holes for the hosta and it was like, “Well, I can try.”
I can try…
He is supposed to make sure to care for the wounds from the surgery a certain way – and not a minute goes by that he is not doing what he is told and yet, I am taking off my boot to drive to get whatever we need and get Abby from school.
You know who is helping me – my friends… they see that I am in need of some extra help and they have all jumped in – in the first 24 hours of my injury.
They know Bill is hurt – but they, as women, know that his life is not going to change to help mine. Because men don’t change their routine.
Women are the ones who have to adapt.
You know it’s a wonder men made it through evolution – its kind of scary to wonder what they were like a million years ago – if this is who they became after all of that time.
But, I guess we should just be glad they aren't dragging us out of the cave by our hair!
Hmmm?
I guess I do have a routine… get my daughter off to school, make myself my chocolate milk (a habit I learned at age 7 when my dad would get me up before he left for work and make me chocolate milk and we would talk for 30 minutes about all of the problems in the world – something I will never forget and maybe the chocolate milk is my daily reminder of that time), and go up to my office, check my emails and write this blog.
No, I guess I don’t want to talk to anyone – I just want that time to wake-up, to gradually join the real world and to write. I used to journal everyday – and now this blog has taken that role in my life. There is something rather comforting to me about exploring your emotions as you wake up for the day and get ready to take charge of the next couple of hours.
So, this morning as I was stirring my milk, he pointed out my silence – he said, “you talk to other people in the morning – just not me.”
“Really? Who?”
Well, when we have company you talk to them in the morning.”
“What? Are you kidding me? You have to be nice to company!”
He managed a laugh. And, I came upstairs to do my thing.
In about 8 years my husband will retire – maybe sooner.. and above all else it is my mornings that I worry about.
I don’t want to sit and hear him read that paper outloud, I don’t care about the statistics of any sports, I don’t want to know his every move – such as: I am going to make coffee now, I am going to shower now, etc…
And most of all, I do not want to have to start planning my day the minute I get the milk out of the fridge!
Like today, we have a Dr. apt. and right away as I WAS taking the milk out – he was like, “Well, what time should we leave, do WE need to get directions?”
UGH… all things we talked about yesterday… I managed to get out, “8:30 and we can look it up on the internet.”
And when I mean “we” we all know I mean, “I.”
The other thing that drives me crazy after I have woken up is the schedule men keep no matter what is going on around them. There is no deviating from it.
Since I fractured my foot (yep, two stress fractures as of Monday) and my husband is home this morning he offered to take Abby to school since I am supposed to limit my driving…BUT, he had to get ready and taking her at 7am – well, that was right in the middle of his schedule… How on earth was he going to do that?
And, he didn’t. He was upstairs getting ready and could cut his schedule by 5 minutes so I drove her.
If my husband ever oversleeps for work – he never skips any of his routine – he still showers, shaves etc… I remember being late for work and dissing the shower, putting my hair up and running out the door –disheveled.
Maybe its because we are women and we know that if anything is going to have to adapt it is us. When we are pregnant we give up lots of things we love, pop, alcohol, sleep…when the kids come we give up lengthy showers, doing our nails, fussy haircuts. We give up what we look like so that we can get our kids out the door in something other than PJ’s.
When our kids are older we give up clean cars and trade them in for soccer lockers and candy stores – wrappers all over.
When we have surgery or a procedure we give up the food and the drink for 12 hours without whining about it.
And, when we have to be somewhere in the morning, earlier than we like – we skip our routine and get right to it.
Men don’t do these things… their mornings are a routine that they don’t sacrifice.
I am still irritated and in disbelief about it all.
And, sure, I am protective of my routine – and when there is time for it – I will make sure I get it…but there is always the but – but if I don’t have time…it is the first thing to go in my day – no matter how precious it is to me.
Which brings me to the last irritation I am having these days… men and illness -. As you know my husband has had two surgeries in the last week and while they aren’t serious – they were painful and this whole condition we are dealing with is horrible… and I feel bad for him.
But, now that I have these two stress fractures and have this boot I have to wear and am not supposed to drive… I, too, have a problem and yet, my problem is so back seat to his.
I can still drive the kids wherever they need to be, get the groceries, make dinner, and vacuum the whole house… I asked if he could dig some holes for the hosta and it was like, “Well, I can try.”
I can try…
He is supposed to make sure to care for the wounds from the surgery a certain way – and not a minute goes by that he is not doing what he is told and yet, I am taking off my boot to drive to get whatever we need and get Abby from school.
You know who is helping me – my friends… they see that I am in need of some extra help and they have all jumped in – in the first 24 hours of my injury.
They know Bill is hurt – but they, as women, know that his life is not going to change to help mine. Because men don’t change their routine.
Women are the ones who have to adapt.
You know it’s a wonder men made it through evolution – its kind of scary to wonder what they were like a million years ago – if this is who they became after all of that time.
But, I guess we should just be glad they aren't dragging us out of the cave by our hair!
Monday, April 26, 2010
Tails and Truths: Trusting in Something Bigger
Friday night as I enjoyed complete peace and quiet eating Chinese take out and catching up on all my Tivo shows…My husband away on a fishing trip and my daughter at her dad’s…a crazy thing happened.
My cat, Delilah (I call her MY cat because no one else gives a damn about her!) was meowing at the slider as loud as she could. I went to let her in and in her mouth was a mouse!
Now, that alone, wouldn’t alarm me – she has done it before – and while I hate that she is killing living things – it is nature. I am not a fan of letting cats roam the outdoors – but one look at Delilah and you know that before she ever came to our house – she lived outdoors. It is her place: outside. And, every morning she begs and howls to go out.
Keeping her inside would be cruel.
So, she walks in the house with this mouse… no big deal as I wait for her to drop what I am certain is a dead mouse. I planned to pick him up and place him in the yard.
However, this little mouse is not dead. He is squirming around as she drops him to the floor!
Maybe she knows that I don’t want her to kill them? But, this is not what I had in mind!
The mouse is obviously stunned… he just sits there. I assume that he is half dead and panic sets in… I tell her to kill it – just kill it… Because I know that I can’t and I don’t want to see it die a slow death or suffer at all.
I yell for the other cats to kill it as they all huddle around it staring at the amazing catch of the day.
The mouse isn’t really moving – only lying on his side and no one is killing it! Ugh..
Shall I smash it with a book? Step on it? NO, NO, NO – Me? I cannot do any of those things… Instead I place the mouse outside and decided that if, by the time I return, he is still lying there – I will keep him overnight for observation.
I run to the backroom in the basement and dig out the old aquarium and look for a make shift top for it. I find a box top that will fit and punch hole in it.
I go back to the patio and sure enough the mouse is still there. Damn it!
I shred paper towels and get some bird seed and a cap to put water in (nothing too deep or he will drown). I get the old wooden house that one of our hamsters used and set-up the hotel room for the night.
Yes, I have done this all before. I once rehabbed a mouse that my parents tried to kill with one of those totally inhumane glue mouse traps. I saw him suffering – his feet glued to the trap and I got him off. I washed that mouse a hundred times. The glue is so awful.
He stayed a few days and then I released him free of glue and his coat shiny after his hundred baths.
I also used to work at an animal rehab sanctuary… rehabbing squirrels, possums, etc… I knew what I was doing.
I went to the patio and picked up the mouse with a paper towel and placed him in his room for the night. He was shaking like a leaf. I put the aquarium up in my office – kept the lights off and closed the door. Darkness, warmth and quiet are the best three things for a frightened and potentially injured animal.
None of this was supposed to be part of my quiet night. Now, there was a mouse in our house!!!
The next morning it was pouring outside and when I went to see my house guest – I was relieved to find that he was just fine – he had eaten and he had drank the water and he had no problem walking around – even running.
But, it was raining out and that seemed like a cruel time to let him go. So, he stayed the night again.
Yesterday, it was cold and rainy and I admit I was starting to get attached so I kept him again.
And that is what made me really think… when does my participation is his life, my help actually become intereference?
This mouse – however comfortable I think he is in the aquarium – all the food he can eat, a little house to call his own and the fact that he is safe from all that could hurt him…
But is he happy? He cannot run freely.. he could be missing his family…sure he is warm but his real home might offer him the same.
Keeping him is only good for me.
How many other things do we spend too much time interjecting ourselves into – just because it feels good to us?
Something to think about….
It is a beautiful day today –and, however sad it might be for me – it is time that the little mouse be free. So he can return to his own life however hard or dangerous it might be.
Life isn’t about controlling a situation especially for others around you – it is about being a part of something bigger than yourself and trusting that it will all make sense in the end.
My cat, Delilah (I call her MY cat because no one else gives a damn about her!) was meowing at the slider as loud as she could. I went to let her in and in her mouth was a mouse!
Now, that alone, wouldn’t alarm me – she has done it before – and while I hate that she is killing living things – it is nature. I am not a fan of letting cats roam the outdoors – but one look at Delilah and you know that before she ever came to our house – she lived outdoors. It is her place: outside. And, every morning she begs and howls to go out.
Keeping her inside would be cruel.
So, she walks in the house with this mouse… no big deal as I wait for her to drop what I am certain is a dead mouse. I planned to pick him up and place him in the yard.
However, this little mouse is not dead. He is squirming around as she drops him to the floor!
Maybe she knows that I don’t want her to kill them? But, this is not what I had in mind!
The mouse is obviously stunned… he just sits there. I assume that he is half dead and panic sets in… I tell her to kill it – just kill it… Because I know that I can’t and I don’t want to see it die a slow death or suffer at all.
I yell for the other cats to kill it as they all huddle around it staring at the amazing catch of the day.
The mouse isn’t really moving – only lying on his side and no one is killing it! Ugh..
Shall I smash it with a book? Step on it? NO, NO, NO – Me? I cannot do any of those things… Instead I place the mouse outside and decided that if, by the time I return, he is still lying there – I will keep him overnight for observation.
I run to the backroom in the basement and dig out the old aquarium and look for a make shift top for it. I find a box top that will fit and punch hole in it.
I go back to the patio and sure enough the mouse is still there. Damn it!
I shred paper towels and get some bird seed and a cap to put water in (nothing too deep or he will drown). I get the old wooden house that one of our hamsters used and set-up the hotel room for the night.
Yes, I have done this all before. I once rehabbed a mouse that my parents tried to kill with one of those totally inhumane glue mouse traps. I saw him suffering – his feet glued to the trap and I got him off. I washed that mouse a hundred times. The glue is so awful.
He stayed a few days and then I released him free of glue and his coat shiny after his hundred baths.
I also used to work at an animal rehab sanctuary… rehabbing squirrels, possums, etc… I knew what I was doing.
I went to the patio and picked up the mouse with a paper towel and placed him in his room for the night. He was shaking like a leaf. I put the aquarium up in my office – kept the lights off and closed the door. Darkness, warmth and quiet are the best three things for a frightened and potentially injured animal.
None of this was supposed to be part of my quiet night. Now, there was a mouse in our house!!!
The next morning it was pouring outside and when I went to see my house guest – I was relieved to find that he was just fine – he had eaten and he had drank the water and he had no problem walking around – even running.
But, it was raining out and that seemed like a cruel time to let him go. So, he stayed the night again.
Yesterday, it was cold and rainy and I admit I was starting to get attached so I kept him again.
And that is what made me really think… when does my participation is his life, my help actually become intereference?
This mouse – however comfortable I think he is in the aquarium – all the food he can eat, a little house to call his own and the fact that he is safe from all that could hurt him…
But is he happy? He cannot run freely.. he could be missing his family…sure he is warm but his real home might offer him the same.
Keeping him is only good for me.
How many other things do we spend too much time interjecting ourselves into – just because it feels good to us?
Something to think about….
It is a beautiful day today –and, however sad it might be for me – it is time that the little mouse be free. So he can return to his own life however hard or dangerous it might be.
Life isn’t about controlling a situation especially for others around you – it is about being a part of something bigger than yourself and trusting that it will all make sense in the end.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Tails and Truths: Why I Would Rather See a Vet for My Illnesses
Monday became one of the most horrible days of my life. My husband, who had out patient surgery on Friday, took a turn for the worse over the weekend and we needed to see the Dr. right away.
I called in and actually got the Dr. because he was on-call. He said that his secretary would call us before 9am to make the appointment. When she did call, she said that we could go to Highland Park at 1pm and Dr. Singer could see us. I asked if there was anything earlier because Bill was in a lot of pain. Well, we could drive to Evanston and see Dr. Muldoon at 11am.
“Fine, I will take that one.”
We got ready and headed out the door for the hour and half drive to Evanston. After a brief wait, Dr. Muldoon saw us and immediately said that Bill needed to go back in for surgery. BUT, he wouldn’t be able to do it that day because his schedule was too full so, we would have to drive to Highland Park hospital and have Dr. Singer fit us in later that day.
We got a surgery appointment at 5pm. (It was 11:30am). Driving home was not an option. By the time we drove home, we would have to get back in the car and drive to Highland Park… Besides Highland Park was only 30 minutes from Evanston.
We chose to just drive to Highland Park and Bill told me I could stop and shop along the way (what a good husband) – besides either way he was going to be laying in the car.
I did make two stops: one to a party store for the baby shower and one to a baby boutique where – I actually got to talk about puppy mills… who would have thought.
So, we walk into the hospital early - what else were we going to do… they directed us upstairs – which we already knew from the last two surgeries.
We get to outpatient care and the only thing they have available is a reclining chair for husband to sit in… What? This is a hospital – where the Hell are the beds?
Before I could bitch too much, a bed becomes available.
We waited nearly 3 hours for the surgery. – Two hours later than we were supposed to. Not to mention that we were the only ones there.
They finally came to take him and I made my way to the all too familiar waiting room. There was only one other person there. No one has surgery at 7pm.
Around 8, Dr. Singer came in explaining what he felt had happened to the surgery from Friday…
I listened – but the most important thing on my mind, that I was nervous to say, was that we are considering going to Mayo Clinic in MN. I didn’t want to be disrespectful but this is the 8th plus surgery we have had and well, at some point another opinion seems necessary.
How long can any Dr. expect you to be, what appears to be, a guinea pig for them to experiment on?
I listened to his words and finally, worked up the courage to say, “I understand what you are saying and I mean this with the most amount of respect but we are considering going to Mayo for a second opinion.”
NOTHING – Dr. Singer said NOTHING. Just continued along his merry way telling me what meds Bill would be on and that we would need to see him in a week and that is when we would make decisions about what to do next since Friday’s surgery didn’t work.
Frustrated, I replied, “I understand – but before we make any real decisions about next steps, I think we would like to go to Mayo Clinic – I think after 8 surgeries another opinion seems important.”
NOTHING, again… until he finally mustered up, “Well, I could probably refer you to someone around here.”
I said, “We don’t want anyone else from around here – we want Mayo.”
The Dr, went on his way home – probably irritated with me and irritated that whatever he did Friday didn’t work so he had to spend his Monday night in the Operating Room (missing Dancing with the Stars… join the crown buddy!)
I was pissed… How could a Dr. not address my concerns and desires to go to Mayo? Say something – even if it is, “I think that would be a waste of your time.” But preferably something like, “I can understand how you would want to do that – and I would do it myself.”
However, I didn’t know how upset I was really going to be until I walked into the room and saw my husband in pain like I have never seen in my whole life. He was shaking and agitated and completely out of control. The pain was so intense.
The nurse knew what Bill was like coming out of the surgery on Friday and this was nothing like that. No, this was unlike any of the 8 plus surgeries we have had. This was horrible – this was a nightmare from Hell.
I couldn’t bare to see my husband this way – someone you love trying to endure such awful pain… he didn’t come in on a gurney from a bad accident – he came in from surgery – they should have been able to control his pain.
This was CRAP.
I started screaming… totally unlike me… but this was unbearable. I was out at the nurses’ station demanding pain meds – demanding attention – especially since we were the only people there!!!
I assume the best and that the nurse was trying – but not fast enough – not fast enough at all. My husband was nearly in shock from how severe the pain was and we were just waiting!
I demanded a Dr. and they finally coughed one up – an attending who was actually in the surgery. She didn’t understand what was wrong… But at least ordered morphine.
I was frantic by this point. Telling, no longer asking, that they treat him ASAP and that there was no way I was bringing him home like this – they had to admit him.
In what seemed like forever – they finally took him to the Pain Management Critical Care Unit and I was shuffled off to the waiting room again.
Once Bill was out of sight I began to sob. Seeing him in that kind of pain took everything I had to be the strong one. Now, I could let go.
I called Carol in tears – no he was really okay – but the pain… something had to have gone wrong.
I waited ...calling Kristin to try and let her know what was going on… and the phone in the empty waiting room rang. I picked it up –who else was going to? And they said I could come back to see him.
A nurse, named Insuk, had relieved my husband of his pain. He was at peace – breathing and talking and the pain was far diminished. Once he was stable he would get a room for the night and we would both sleep there. It was midnight.
Insuk was amazing – the best or at least the most capable – of all the medical people we had had. I guess anyone who can alieve you from pain – is nothing short of a God in the moment.
Wheeled into a room for the night – we entered what would turn out to be the twilight zone. Maybe we were both exhausted from a day of agony, pain and driving all over – but the two nurses we had spoke gibberish – we couldn’t understand what the Hell they were saying – and all we wanted was peace and quiet.
It was as though this nightmare turned into Alice in Wonderland lost in the rabbit hole.
Morning couldn’t come soon enough.
Morning did come – after I had gotten a whopping 2 hours of sleep in one of those chairs that reclines about as much as an airplane seat. Bill did get some rest –but was till a little shakey.
The first attending came in and immediately I implied that something had gone wrong with the surgery and in the next hour three hospital people would be in to see us and ask about what we felt was wrong… Yes, covering their butts….
Something had to go wrong.. you don’t have 8 same surgeries and one day wake up after one and wish you were dead… something did go wrong – and being who I am – I will pursue it.
We are home – we survived the nightmare – the adventure into the twilight zone and the trip back home… But, now more than ever I believe that if/when I get really sick I will be going to my vet – The Animal Hospital of Woodstock…
See, in the 15 years I have been going they have never not answered the phone – they have never made me wait in an emergency and they have never underestimated the pain my animals were in.
On a Sunday after my ferret sliced himself across his whole underside in a chair – they came in immediately and did surgery. There was no waiting for a secretary to call us back – no appointment only to be shuffled off somewhere else for surgery. No, they charged me an extra $50 and did the surgery that day. Orvis would be fine.
Sampson, who had his eye sewn in a button at Animal Control – I swiped and brought to them… I got in the same day - I called and when they saw his eye they asked if I would be willing to drive an hour to an animal ophthalmologist - of course I would – and they said they would call and as soon as I got there I would be seen.
And we were – we walked in the door and immediately brought back to a room where the top specialist examined Sampson without any waiting and removed the button and started him on meds that would save his eye.
Recently, Sadie had been limping so I called and was seen the same day. They were able to take x-rays in the office and brought me to the back room where I was able to see the x-rays on a massive computer screen only 10 minutes later – and Dr. Fritz took all the time in the world explaining to me what was going on with Sadie.
No, when you see my vet – you see the best. You are treated with respect and customer service – you very rarely wait and they always have the most recent technology. And most importantly, when there is a need for a second opinion, they are the first to recommend it whether it be an eye specialist or the need to go to one of the University Veterinary hospitals for treatment they know would be even better.
Sadly, like we experienced at Highland Park hospital, people are not treated the same way.
When I watched Bill suffer – all I could think about later was the puppy mill dogs who must endure such similar types of pain – with no one person to be their champion… But, I also came to the sad realization – that it is no wonder dogs’ well-beings are playing such second fiddle – here we were, paying, HUMAN customers and we were being treated like livestock.
The only thing we have going for us is that we have the ability to make our own decision – we have the choice to make things different and we will.
You can bet that we won’t be going back to Highland Park hospital and that we will not be going back for a follow-up with Dr. Singer. In my opinion, he is 0-2 right now and why would I take another chance with my husband’s well-being with a batting average like that?
We will see Dr Muldoon and we will explain to him our disappointment in his partner – and our decision to seek out a second opinion at Mayo Clinic. Bill is not a guinea pig (even guinea pigs don’t deserver to be treated like pieces of experimental meat) and after 8 plus surgeries – any one who is able to go to Mayo Clinic would.
We are fortunate enough to know someone who can get us in and fortunate enough to have the kind of insurance who will pay for it. (Lets leave the Healthcare debate for another blog!).
Overall, my point is that it is true medicine is a practice and not a profession – and it appears that some people practice more regularly than others.
Dr.’s egos get in the way of making them good Dr.’s and in the end – shows like Grey’s Anatomy and The Practice only represent some apex of the Medical Profession. No one spent time explaining things with us like Pete would - no one sat in the waiting room with me – like Izzie always did –
We had to stick up for ourselves because no one else was going to… and above all else we were never treated as good as my entourage of animals are at my vet’s office.
Certainly makes you think… about whom you want to trust your life with.
I called in and actually got the Dr. because he was on-call. He said that his secretary would call us before 9am to make the appointment. When she did call, she said that we could go to Highland Park at 1pm and Dr. Singer could see us. I asked if there was anything earlier because Bill was in a lot of pain. Well, we could drive to Evanston and see Dr. Muldoon at 11am.
“Fine, I will take that one.”
We got ready and headed out the door for the hour and half drive to Evanston. After a brief wait, Dr. Muldoon saw us and immediately said that Bill needed to go back in for surgery. BUT, he wouldn’t be able to do it that day because his schedule was too full so, we would have to drive to Highland Park hospital and have Dr. Singer fit us in later that day.
We got a surgery appointment at 5pm. (It was 11:30am). Driving home was not an option. By the time we drove home, we would have to get back in the car and drive to Highland Park… Besides Highland Park was only 30 minutes from Evanston.
We chose to just drive to Highland Park and Bill told me I could stop and shop along the way (what a good husband) – besides either way he was going to be laying in the car.
I did make two stops: one to a party store for the baby shower and one to a baby boutique where – I actually got to talk about puppy mills… who would have thought.
So, we walk into the hospital early - what else were we going to do… they directed us upstairs – which we already knew from the last two surgeries.
We get to outpatient care and the only thing they have available is a reclining chair for husband to sit in… What? This is a hospital – where the Hell are the beds?
Before I could bitch too much, a bed becomes available.
We waited nearly 3 hours for the surgery. – Two hours later than we were supposed to. Not to mention that we were the only ones there.
They finally came to take him and I made my way to the all too familiar waiting room. There was only one other person there. No one has surgery at 7pm.
Around 8, Dr. Singer came in explaining what he felt had happened to the surgery from Friday…
I listened – but the most important thing on my mind, that I was nervous to say, was that we are considering going to Mayo Clinic in MN. I didn’t want to be disrespectful but this is the 8th plus surgery we have had and well, at some point another opinion seems necessary.
How long can any Dr. expect you to be, what appears to be, a guinea pig for them to experiment on?
I listened to his words and finally, worked up the courage to say, “I understand what you are saying and I mean this with the most amount of respect but we are considering going to Mayo for a second opinion.”
NOTHING – Dr. Singer said NOTHING. Just continued along his merry way telling me what meds Bill would be on and that we would need to see him in a week and that is when we would make decisions about what to do next since Friday’s surgery didn’t work.
Frustrated, I replied, “I understand – but before we make any real decisions about next steps, I think we would like to go to Mayo Clinic – I think after 8 surgeries another opinion seems important.”
NOTHING, again… until he finally mustered up, “Well, I could probably refer you to someone around here.”
I said, “We don’t want anyone else from around here – we want Mayo.”
The Dr, went on his way home – probably irritated with me and irritated that whatever he did Friday didn’t work so he had to spend his Monday night in the Operating Room (missing Dancing with the Stars… join the crown buddy!)
I was pissed… How could a Dr. not address my concerns and desires to go to Mayo? Say something – even if it is, “I think that would be a waste of your time.” But preferably something like, “I can understand how you would want to do that – and I would do it myself.”
However, I didn’t know how upset I was really going to be until I walked into the room and saw my husband in pain like I have never seen in my whole life. He was shaking and agitated and completely out of control. The pain was so intense.
The nurse knew what Bill was like coming out of the surgery on Friday and this was nothing like that. No, this was unlike any of the 8 plus surgeries we have had. This was horrible – this was a nightmare from Hell.
I couldn’t bare to see my husband this way – someone you love trying to endure such awful pain… he didn’t come in on a gurney from a bad accident – he came in from surgery – they should have been able to control his pain.
This was CRAP.
I started screaming… totally unlike me… but this was unbearable. I was out at the nurses’ station demanding pain meds – demanding attention – especially since we were the only people there!!!
I assume the best and that the nurse was trying – but not fast enough – not fast enough at all. My husband was nearly in shock from how severe the pain was and we were just waiting!
I demanded a Dr. and they finally coughed one up – an attending who was actually in the surgery. She didn’t understand what was wrong… But at least ordered morphine.
I was frantic by this point. Telling, no longer asking, that they treat him ASAP and that there was no way I was bringing him home like this – they had to admit him.
In what seemed like forever – they finally took him to the Pain Management Critical Care Unit and I was shuffled off to the waiting room again.
Once Bill was out of sight I began to sob. Seeing him in that kind of pain took everything I had to be the strong one. Now, I could let go.
I called Carol in tears – no he was really okay – but the pain… something had to have gone wrong.
I waited ...calling Kristin to try and let her know what was going on… and the phone in the empty waiting room rang. I picked it up –who else was going to? And they said I could come back to see him.
A nurse, named Insuk, had relieved my husband of his pain. He was at peace – breathing and talking and the pain was far diminished. Once he was stable he would get a room for the night and we would both sleep there. It was midnight.
Insuk was amazing – the best or at least the most capable – of all the medical people we had had. I guess anyone who can alieve you from pain – is nothing short of a God in the moment.
Wheeled into a room for the night – we entered what would turn out to be the twilight zone. Maybe we were both exhausted from a day of agony, pain and driving all over – but the two nurses we had spoke gibberish – we couldn’t understand what the Hell they were saying – and all we wanted was peace and quiet.
It was as though this nightmare turned into Alice in Wonderland lost in the rabbit hole.
Morning couldn’t come soon enough.
Morning did come – after I had gotten a whopping 2 hours of sleep in one of those chairs that reclines about as much as an airplane seat. Bill did get some rest –but was till a little shakey.
The first attending came in and immediately I implied that something had gone wrong with the surgery and in the next hour three hospital people would be in to see us and ask about what we felt was wrong… Yes, covering their butts….
Something had to go wrong.. you don’t have 8 same surgeries and one day wake up after one and wish you were dead… something did go wrong – and being who I am – I will pursue it.
We are home – we survived the nightmare – the adventure into the twilight zone and the trip back home… But, now more than ever I believe that if/when I get really sick I will be going to my vet – The Animal Hospital of Woodstock…
See, in the 15 years I have been going they have never not answered the phone – they have never made me wait in an emergency and they have never underestimated the pain my animals were in.
On a Sunday after my ferret sliced himself across his whole underside in a chair – they came in immediately and did surgery. There was no waiting for a secretary to call us back – no appointment only to be shuffled off somewhere else for surgery. No, they charged me an extra $50 and did the surgery that day. Orvis would be fine.
Sampson, who had his eye sewn in a button at Animal Control – I swiped and brought to them… I got in the same day - I called and when they saw his eye they asked if I would be willing to drive an hour to an animal ophthalmologist - of course I would – and they said they would call and as soon as I got there I would be seen.
And we were – we walked in the door and immediately brought back to a room where the top specialist examined Sampson without any waiting and removed the button and started him on meds that would save his eye.
Recently, Sadie had been limping so I called and was seen the same day. They were able to take x-rays in the office and brought me to the back room where I was able to see the x-rays on a massive computer screen only 10 minutes later – and Dr. Fritz took all the time in the world explaining to me what was going on with Sadie.
No, when you see my vet – you see the best. You are treated with respect and customer service – you very rarely wait and they always have the most recent technology. And most importantly, when there is a need for a second opinion, they are the first to recommend it whether it be an eye specialist or the need to go to one of the University Veterinary hospitals for treatment they know would be even better.
Sadly, like we experienced at Highland Park hospital, people are not treated the same way.
When I watched Bill suffer – all I could think about later was the puppy mill dogs who must endure such similar types of pain – with no one person to be their champion… But, I also came to the sad realization – that it is no wonder dogs’ well-beings are playing such second fiddle – here we were, paying, HUMAN customers and we were being treated like livestock.
The only thing we have going for us is that we have the ability to make our own decision – we have the choice to make things different and we will.
You can bet that we won’t be going back to Highland Park hospital and that we will not be going back for a follow-up with Dr. Singer. In my opinion, he is 0-2 right now and why would I take another chance with my husband’s well-being with a batting average like that?
We will see Dr Muldoon and we will explain to him our disappointment in his partner – and our decision to seek out a second opinion at Mayo Clinic. Bill is not a guinea pig (even guinea pigs don’t deserver to be treated like pieces of experimental meat) and after 8 plus surgeries – any one who is able to go to Mayo Clinic would.
We are fortunate enough to know someone who can get us in and fortunate enough to have the kind of insurance who will pay for it. (Lets leave the Healthcare debate for another blog!).
Overall, my point is that it is true medicine is a practice and not a profession – and it appears that some people practice more regularly than others.
Dr.’s egos get in the way of making them good Dr.’s and in the end – shows like Grey’s Anatomy and The Practice only represent some apex of the Medical Profession. No one spent time explaining things with us like Pete would - no one sat in the waiting room with me – like Izzie always did –
We had to stick up for ourselves because no one else was going to… and above all else we were never treated as good as my entourage of animals are at my vet’s office.
Certainly makes you think… about whom you want to trust your life with.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Truths: The Importance of a Best Friend
This weekend was amazing. My friend, Kelly, (Check out her blog at kellypolark@blogspot.com) and I took a road trip to my cabin up north for the weekend.
Kelly and I have been best friends since I can remember and it all started over 30 years ago!!!
We grew up in the same neingborhood (as our other best friend, MaryKate – now in Spain) and we spent nearly every summer day together and every weekend while we were growing up.
Kelly’s mom used to joke that Kelly was part of our family and not theirs.
From Barbie dolls, to swimming, to raising a pair of ducks named Daisy and Donald, of course! And later, boys and dates and prom..which also meant tears of joy and sadness.
We have seen each other through everything: first boyfriends, first dates, first break-ups, first proms, first ( you know), college, marriage, pregnancy, children, divorce, re-marriage, illness…you name it – we have been through it.
I cannot think of any one friend who knows more about my life than Kelly.
No, we are not the same… she loves rock and roll and I have turned into a pop junky – kind of embarrassing, I know. She can’t bear to leave her children and well, I am quite alright with it, she goes to concerts and I go to Garden Club.
No, we are not the same – but we share a history that keeps us close – we have a bond that few people ever get – and for that I am grateful.
We live close, but life gets in the way so we don’t see each other very often. Going on this weekend was a cherished opportunity for us.
And while, our lives have taken different turns – besides our shared history – we have found something new in common: writing. I am writing a non-fiction memoir of my experience with puppy mills and rescuing Thorp and Penelope and she is writing a middle grade fiction book.
It is something new – a new road that we get to travel together as we dodge the rest of the chaos in our lives.
We our able to help one another and offer up different contests and hints that we find in the profession. Most of all, we get to encourage and support each other on this newfound passion.
The weekend was full of crazy conversation, laughs and fun. We talked incessantly and just enjoyed our time together.
Friday we rode up, stopping for dinner and taking our time – to which both of our husbands couldn’t understand. They called around 9 – in disbelief that we were still an hour away from our destinantion. Its not the end point, it is the journey, right?
We talked into the night once we got to the cabin and eventually, fell prey to sleep.
The next day was lunch at my soon to be son-in laws family’s bar and grill. Kelly got to meet what will soon be my extended family. I was so happy to introduce them – because they already mean so much to me.
We left lunch and spent the next 5 hours engrossed in our writing. 5 hours of uninterrupted time that we never get at home. Not to mention we even stopped talking!
We loved it… Not only was it time to write and work on our books – we were doing it together and there was something about the karma in the room that I think made all of the difference.
Soon night fell and called upon us to go have some real fun… back to the bar and grill we went and well, without detailing the actual crazy events of the night it is safe to say that we had a blast.
We had initially thought that we would do some work on Sunday before heading home… but lets just say the our previous night’s fun differed.
Once again, the ride home was talk, talk, talk…until we pulled into my driveway and our escape came to a halt. Back to our reality…
Since yesterday, I have contemplated all of our time together – the way we can talk for nearly 48 hours without ever wondering what to say next. Or even more amazing, how we can not talk for 5 hours and yet, still feel like we shared out deepest thoughts.
I know I am lucky, fortunate and blessed to have a dear friend for over 30 years. 30 years of my life have been shared with one person who has seen me in ways no one else ever will.
She has never judged me (except for the time I kept drinking one night and she told me I had had enough! One of our only fights to date!).
She has always been there – when I was hurt, scared, wrong or sick. She has seen me at my worst and at my best and has loved me unconditionally.
While I have other friends whom I love and am thankful for – Having Kelly as a best friend for over 30 years is more than I could have ever imagined. Words could never truly explain the beauty of our friendship and the kindred spirts we have become.
Kel, I know you are reading this blog so I just want to say that I love you like the sister I never had - probably even more!
Kelly and I have been best friends since I can remember and it all started over 30 years ago!!!
We grew up in the same neingborhood (as our other best friend, MaryKate – now in Spain) and we spent nearly every summer day together and every weekend while we were growing up.
Kelly’s mom used to joke that Kelly was part of our family and not theirs.
From Barbie dolls, to swimming, to raising a pair of ducks named Daisy and Donald, of course! And later, boys and dates and prom..which also meant tears of joy and sadness.
We have seen each other through everything: first boyfriends, first dates, first break-ups, first proms, first ( you know), college, marriage, pregnancy, children, divorce, re-marriage, illness…you name it – we have been through it.
I cannot think of any one friend who knows more about my life than Kelly.
No, we are not the same… she loves rock and roll and I have turned into a pop junky – kind of embarrassing, I know. She can’t bear to leave her children and well, I am quite alright with it, she goes to concerts and I go to Garden Club.
No, we are not the same – but we share a history that keeps us close – we have a bond that few people ever get – and for that I am grateful.
We live close, but life gets in the way so we don’t see each other very often. Going on this weekend was a cherished opportunity for us.
And while, our lives have taken different turns – besides our shared history – we have found something new in common: writing. I am writing a non-fiction memoir of my experience with puppy mills and rescuing Thorp and Penelope and she is writing a middle grade fiction book.
It is something new – a new road that we get to travel together as we dodge the rest of the chaos in our lives.
We our able to help one another and offer up different contests and hints that we find in the profession. Most of all, we get to encourage and support each other on this newfound passion.
The weekend was full of crazy conversation, laughs and fun. We talked incessantly and just enjoyed our time together.
Friday we rode up, stopping for dinner and taking our time – to which both of our husbands couldn’t understand. They called around 9 – in disbelief that we were still an hour away from our destinantion. Its not the end point, it is the journey, right?
We talked into the night once we got to the cabin and eventually, fell prey to sleep.
The next day was lunch at my soon to be son-in laws family’s bar and grill. Kelly got to meet what will soon be my extended family. I was so happy to introduce them – because they already mean so much to me.
We left lunch and spent the next 5 hours engrossed in our writing. 5 hours of uninterrupted time that we never get at home. Not to mention we even stopped talking!
We loved it… Not only was it time to write and work on our books – we were doing it together and there was something about the karma in the room that I think made all of the difference.
Soon night fell and called upon us to go have some real fun… back to the bar and grill we went and well, without detailing the actual crazy events of the night it is safe to say that we had a blast.
We had initially thought that we would do some work on Sunday before heading home… but lets just say the our previous night’s fun differed.
Once again, the ride home was talk, talk, talk…until we pulled into my driveway and our escape came to a halt. Back to our reality…
Since yesterday, I have contemplated all of our time together – the way we can talk for nearly 48 hours without ever wondering what to say next. Or even more amazing, how we can not talk for 5 hours and yet, still feel like we shared out deepest thoughts.
I know I am lucky, fortunate and blessed to have a dear friend for over 30 years. 30 years of my life have been shared with one person who has seen me in ways no one else ever will.
She has never judged me (except for the time I kept drinking one night and she told me I had had enough! One of our only fights to date!).
She has always been there – when I was hurt, scared, wrong or sick. She has seen me at my worst and at my best and has loved me unconditionally.
While I have other friends whom I love and am thankful for – Having Kelly as a best friend for over 30 years is more than I could have ever imagined. Words could never truly explain the beauty of our friendship and the kindred spirts we have become.
Kel, I know you are reading this blog so I just want to say that I love you like the sister I never had - probably even more!
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Tails and Truths: Overlooking Things We Love
I have been feeling a little blah these days… No real reason… So, I decided the night before last that I would take Buddy, our biggest and oldest dog for a long walk in town.
See, about 5 years ago, I lived in town. Woodstock, home to the movie, “Groundhog Day,” is a very quaint little town. We have a beautiful square with shops and restaurants. The road is all cobblestone. The inset a beautiful park.
I love the square – it is everything life isn’t anymore – peaceful, homey, inviting.
Well, when I lived in town I walked everywhere – I loved seeing the square and all of the historic homes. Not to mention, I was training for the Avon Breast Cancer 3 day walk – 60 miles!
I walked and I walked – like Forrest Gump ran and ran. But, I never gave it a single thought. I would take a few steps out of my house and never look back.
I have gained some weight over the year from some meds that I take and, okay, I probably could work-out more.. But, I have been struggling with what exercise option to go with. I had been doing the treadmill – but it is so routine. Same TV channel – same music blaring so I forget that I am sweating my ass off…
Now that the snow has melted – being down in the basement is even less appealing.
My other option is to walk the neighborhood. We live in a beautiful neighborhood. It is full of large, mature trees, two ponds, lots of space between homes, hills, etc. It is wonderful. But, it is boring. Just too predictable and mundane.
SO, for some reason I finally woke up and remembered how much I used to love walking in-town. Kind of an “A HA” moment even though all along it should have been obvious.
The best thing is that our subdivision feels out of town – but it is a quick walk back in. The other great thing is that city installed a wonderful sidewalk and walking over pass for the bridge so that it would be safer for us to walk to the square.
It was just finished late last fall. It is perfect.
With my mind set on that walk – I also decided that I would bring Buddy. Yes, we have 4 dogs…but, little Penelope cannot walk that far. One trip around the neighborhood and half way she lays down and won’t budge. Can’t say I blame her with those little feet… But, none the less… I didn’t want to carry her home.
Sadie is a bit old and a little out of shape and a walk that far would probably kill her…
And Thorp, he could probably do the walk but lately, with his obedience training and therapy certification – well, he has gotten a lot more attention than any of the other dogs.
Buddy was the perfect choice. He was our first dog and with all the ones who followed I think he has gotten less and less attention. And while it is horrible to say… Buddy is getting old and it just feels like we should start spoiling him again – just in case Rainbow Bridge invites him over.
I grabbed a bottle of water, some poop bags and Buddy and I were off. I felt good just knowing where we were going. The new walking path was amazing - as though it was made just for me to get back to the area I longed for.
The day was 80 plus and sunny – with a slight breeze. Buddy and I walked and every moment was enjoyable.
We made it to the square, to the library, and around all the old homes that I love (But, that take waaaaay too much time and money to make enjoyable to actually live in – I know – I tried it!)
The high school kids were getting out and walking all over. I felt alive. The people, the hustle and bustle of our small town. The fresh spring grass – green as could be.
I was breathing as though it was my first breath.
Buddy walked like a champ. Like me, this was monumental to him. He was alone – like an only child again. On the run – like a big dogs loves. It was him and me and he was strutting like he couldn’t be happier.
And, I got to really see him again. Him – not a whole pack. Just him and how cute he is – and what a good dog he is.
When you spend so much time rescuing and taking in crazy dogs – it is overwhelming and the dogs you already had, sadly, can fall to the back.
I had overlooked Buddy and I felt horrible – but it felt awesome to be with only him again. This was our hour alone.
I think we walked about 3 ½ to 4 miles from home and back. And what started as beautiful weather became really hot as we walked. My face was red as a tomato and, nearing the end, Buddy was dragging.
However, the whole time was wonderful. In fact, it made me re-examine a lot of things – like why we ever forget the things that we love to do and the people (or dogs) we love to do them with.
How had I ever forgotten how much I enjoyed walking in-town. How, even after 4 miles – I was still ready to do more.
I guess life gets in the way too much to remember what we once had and how much we liked it. We let things crowd our heads and somewhere pieces of us get lost and disheveled and instead, we spend time treading water – looking for those magical things that will bring us peace.
I think the ones that are the most subtle, the most natural, the ones that are usually free – like walking – are the ones we let go of in the midst of chaos. What a shame.
All I know is that I am anxious to walk to town today – to see Buddy feel young and spoiled again – for me to re-energize by feeling the excitement of my town and the comfort of the quaint square.
No, I won’t be able to do it everyday – life can get in the way – but most importantly is that I have re-discovered one of the things that brings me joy and I can do it whenever I want again!
See, about 5 years ago, I lived in town. Woodstock, home to the movie, “Groundhog Day,” is a very quaint little town. We have a beautiful square with shops and restaurants. The road is all cobblestone. The inset a beautiful park.
I love the square – it is everything life isn’t anymore – peaceful, homey, inviting.
Well, when I lived in town I walked everywhere – I loved seeing the square and all of the historic homes. Not to mention, I was training for the Avon Breast Cancer 3 day walk – 60 miles!
I walked and I walked – like Forrest Gump ran and ran. But, I never gave it a single thought. I would take a few steps out of my house and never look back.
I have gained some weight over the year from some meds that I take and, okay, I probably could work-out more.. But, I have been struggling with what exercise option to go with. I had been doing the treadmill – but it is so routine. Same TV channel – same music blaring so I forget that I am sweating my ass off…
Now that the snow has melted – being down in the basement is even less appealing.
My other option is to walk the neighborhood. We live in a beautiful neighborhood. It is full of large, mature trees, two ponds, lots of space between homes, hills, etc. It is wonderful. But, it is boring. Just too predictable and mundane.
SO, for some reason I finally woke up and remembered how much I used to love walking in-town. Kind of an “A HA” moment even though all along it should have been obvious.
The best thing is that our subdivision feels out of town – but it is a quick walk back in. The other great thing is that city installed a wonderful sidewalk and walking over pass for the bridge so that it would be safer for us to walk to the square.
It was just finished late last fall. It is perfect.
With my mind set on that walk – I also decided that I would bring Buddy. Yes, we have 4 dogs…but, little Penelope cannot walk that far. One trip around the neighborhood and half way she lays down and won’t budge. Can’t say I blame her with those little feet… But, none the less… I didn’t want to carry her home.
Sadie is a bit old and a little out of shape and a walk that far would probably kill her…
And Thorp, he could probably do the walk but lately, with his obedience training and therapy certification – well, he has gotten a lot more attention than any of the other dogs.
Buddy was the perfect choice. He was our first dog and with all the ones who followed I think he has gotten less and less attention. And while it is horrible to say… Buddy is getting old and it just feels like we should start spoiling him again – just in case Rainbow Bridge invites him over.
I grabbed a bottle of water, some poop bags and Buddy and I were off. I felt good just knowing where we were going. The new walking path was amazing - as though it was made just for me to get back to the area I longed for.
The day was 80 plus and sunny – with a slight breeze. Buddy and I walked and every moment was enjoyable.
We made it to the square, to the library, and around all the old homes that I love (But, that take waaaaay too much time and money to make enjoyable to actually live in – I know – I tried it!)
The high school kids were getting out and walking all over. I felt alive. The people, the hustle and bustle of our small town. The fresh spring grass – green as could be.
I was breathing as though it was my first breath.
Buddy walked like a champ. Like me, this was monumental to him. He was alone – like an only child again. On the run – like a big dogs loves. It was him and me and he was strutting like he couldn’t be happier.
And, I got to really see him again. Him – not a whole pack. Just him and how cute he is – and what a good dog he is.
When you spend so much time rescuing and taking in crazy dogs – it is overwhelming and the dogs you already had, sadly, can fall to the back.
I had overlooked Buddy and I felt horrible – but it felt awesome to be with only him again. This was our hour alone.
I think we walked about 3 ½ to 4 miles from home and back. And what started as beautiful weather became really hot as we walked. My face was red as a tomato and, nearing the end, Buddy was dragging.
However, the whole time was wonderful. In fact, it made me re-examine a lot of things – like why we ever forget the things that we love to do and the people (or dogs) we love to do them with.
How had I ever forgotten how much I enjoyed walking in-town. How, even after 4 miles – I was still ready to do more.
I guess life gets in the way too much to remember what we once had and how much we liked it. We let things crowd our heads and somewhere pieces of us get lost and disheveled and instead, we spend time treading water – looking for those magical things that will bring us peace.
I think the ones that are the most subtle, the most natural, the ones that are usually free – like walking – are the ones we let go of in the midst of chaos. What a shame.
All I know is that I am anxious to walk to town today – to see Buddy feel young and spoiled again – for me to re-energize by feeling the excitement of my town and the comfort of the quaint square.
No, I won’t be able to do it everyday – life can get in the way – but most importantly is that I have re-discovered one of the things that brings me joy and I can do it whenever I want again!
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Truths: Friendships: Men VS Women
Yesterday's blog stirred some emotions about the friendships women have and the degree in which men can’t understand them.
Often, when women take leave of their families in search of a girls' weekend – men scratch their heads and pout, “When will you be home?”
It is irritating to us… this guilt trip of leaving the house. It makes women angry and bitter and often, sadly enough, can ruin the girl time they have longed for.
What happens is the husbands become part of the conversations of the girls weekend. Things like, “Ugh, my husband was whining when I left – totally not understanding why I want to be with my friends. What the Hell is wrong with him?”
Aahh…. And that is where I start the blog today. What the Hell is wrong with men that they don’t understand our need to be with our girlfriends for extended periods of time.
It is so obvious, really, and yet, as women, we usually overlook it.
Men, typically, never hang with each other just to hang – just to talk. All of their time together surrounds an activity, such as: a sporting event, a round of golf, a beer after work. Men don’t call men and say, “Hey, do you want to get a hotel room and spend the night just hanging out.”
It almost sounds creepy saying it like that!
It is not to say that men don’t have friendships… they do – but they are based on different things. Mostly they are based on mutual interests: basketball, football, fishing, etc. While women often develop relationships with women based more on geographic location – and while they usually have things in common, women can be dear friends even when they see life a lot differently or even when they don’t participate in the same activities.
Women develop friendships based on support and kindness. Sure we can golf together or go see a movie – but what we really expect from our friendships is the ability to share what is going on with our lives and to have the other person help us through it - just by listening.
Men don’t talk about theit innermost feelings – they don’t share their everyday with the guys. Their conversations need an activity. While men golf, or watch a game – their conversation is about the activity.
“Hey, did you get a new driver?”
“Hey did you see that Peyton Manning threw for 300 yards last year?”
“What lure are you using?”
Often, when my husband returns from a two day fishing trip, I ask him what is going on with his friends… any new babies, new jobs, new houses, etc.
“I have no idea.” He says.
"So, you spent 48 hours with three guys and you don’t know a thing.”
“We don’t talk about that stuff.”
So, while our weekends with the girls, based solely on the opportunity to hang out and talk, are completely foreign to our husbands. Their weekends with the guys without talking are completely unthinkable to us.
Isn’t there some book called, “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus?” ☺
It is just hard…hard to get into the car and drive away for a girls weekend when your husband stands there, pouting about why you have to leave... “just to talk to your friends – can’t you do that over the phone?”
Women love their friends in a way that men will never understand. While we are honest with our husbands there are things that we don’t share with them that we only share with our closest friends… It is who we are.
While, I think, men tend to only share important things with us – their wives. Again, missing the opportunity to understand our friendships.
The funny thing is that even if I went golfing with my best friends – we would still manage to indulge in our life’s dilemmas. We don’t give a rat’s ass about Kelly’s new driver or that Tina is taking lessons on Tuesdays (unless she tells us the instructor is hot).
It is never about the activity – it is about the people involved. I remember when my husband and I were dating and we went bowling. On the way there he said, “So, do you want me to give you some tips on how to bowl better?”
“Huh,”, I said, “Why? – I am not going to bowl – I am going to drink and hang out with our friends.”
I think says a lot. And, truthfully, when it all comes down to it – I guess it does circle back to the true differences between men and women: the mere concept of sharing our feelings and opening up to people.
Men have a hard time doing this. In fact, so many men almost never do this. That is why their friendships revolve around activities because it keeps them safe. They don’t have to talk about their lives when Joe hits a 250 yard tee shot or when Brett Favre throws an interception (again). They can hang out together and never once acknowledge that Bob is about to get engaged or that Dave’s marriage is falling apart. No, instead they focus on the bass Bill just caught because it is easier.
To us, women, we can’t imagine anything more sad… because we need to expose ourselves… we need to share…we need each other.
Apparently, gender does set us up for the relationships we develop in our lives – the important part is that we: men and women, understand what one another needs from their friendships and doesn’t look all sad and puppy eyed when the other one leaves the house in search of time with the girls…. Or, the boys….
Often, when women take leave of their families in search of a girls' weekend – men scratch their heads and pout, “When will you be home?”
It is irritating to us… this guilt trip of leaving the house. It makes women angry and bitter and often, sadly enough, can ruin the girl time they have longed for.
What happens is the husbands become part of the conversations of the girls weekend. Things like, “Ugh, my husband was whining when I left – totally not understanding why I want to be with my friends. What the Hell is wrong with him?”
Aahh…. And that is where I start the blog today. What the Hell is wrong with men that they don’t understand our need to be with our girlfriends for extended periods of time.
It is so obvious, really, and yet, as women, we usually overlook it.
Men, typically, never hang with each other just to hang – just to talk. All of their time together surrounds an activity, such as: a sporting event, a round of golf, a beer after work. Men don’t call men and say, “Hey, do you want to get a hotel room and spend the night just hanging out.”
It almost sounds creepy saying it like that!
It is not to say that men don’t have friendships… they do – but they are based on different things. Mostly they are based on mutual interests: basketball, football, fishing, etc. While women often develop relationships with women based more on geographic location – and while they usually have things in common, women can be dear friends even when they see life a lot differently or even when they don’t participate in the same activities.
Women develop friendships based on support and kindness. Sure we can golf together or go see a movie – but what we really expect from our friendships is the ability to share what is going on with our lives and to have the other person help us through it - just by listening.
Men don’t talk about theit innermost feelings – they don’t share their everyday with the guys. Their conversations need an activity. While men golf, or watch a game – their conversation is about the activity.
“Hey, did you get a new driver?”
“Hey did you see that Peyton Manning threw for 300 yards last year?”
“What lure are you using?”
Often, when my husband returns from a two day fishing trip, I ask him what is going on with his friends… any new babies, new jobs, new houses, etc.
“I have no idea.” He says.
"So, you spent 48 hours with three guys and you don’t know a thing.”
“We don’t talk about that stuff.”
So, while our weekends with the girls, based solely on the opportunity to hang out and talk, are completely foreign to our husbands. Their weekends with the guys without talking are completely unthinkable to us.
Isn’t there some book called, “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus?” ☺
It is just hard…hard to get into the car and drive away for a girls weekend when your husband stands there, pouting about why you have to leave... “just to talk to your friends – can’t you do that over the phone?”
Women love their friends in a way that men will never understand. While we are honest with our husbands there are things that we don’t share with them that we only share with our closest friends… It is who we are.
While, I think, men tend to only share important things with us – their wives. Again, missing the opportunity to understand our friendships.
The funny thing is that even if I went golfing with my best friends – we would still manage to indulge in our life’s dilemmas. We don’t give a rat’s ass about Kelly’s new driver or that Tina is taking lessons on Tuesdays (unless she tells us the instructor is hot).
It is never about the activity – it is about the people involved. I remember when my husband and I were dating and we went bowling. On the way there he said, “So, do you want me to give you some tips on how to bowl better?”
“Huh,”, I said, “Why? – I am not going to bowl – I am going to drink and hang out with our friends.”
I think says a lot. And, truthfully, when it all comes down to it – I guess it does circle back to the true differences between men and women: the mere concept of sharing our feelings and opening up to people.
Men have a hard time doing this. In fact, so many men almost never do this. That is why their friendships revolve around activities because it keeps them safe. They don’t have to talk about their lives when Joe hits a 250 yard tee shot or when Brett Favre throws an interception (again). They can hang out together and never once acknowledge that Bob is about to get engaged or that Dave’s marriage is falling apart. No, instead they focus on the bass Bill just caught because it is easier.
To us, women, we can’t imagine anything more sad… because we need to expose ourselves… we need to share…we need each other.
Apparently, gender does set us up for the relationships we develop in our lives – the important part is that we: men and women, understand what one another needs from their friendships and doesn’t look all sad and puppy eyed when the other one leaves the house in search of time with the girls…. Or, the boys….
Monday, April 12, 2010
Truths: What is Behind the Greek Letters of a Sorority?
I had the pleasure of getting together with my sorority sisters for a sleep over Saturday night. Out of the 9 of us who once lived together in our own house senior year, 6 of us were able to make it to the get together. Considering the other 3 live far away – I think that it’s amazing.
Some people cringe when they hear sorority, some people laugh at the concept – some people think it is just a bunch of fake, snobby girls… Maybe some are. But, I met 8 of my closest friends from college in my sorority and after over 15 years, we are still the best of friends who cherish the time we get to spend together.
No, it has nothing to do with the secret handshake or the ominous night of initiation or the ridiculous crap we did doing Rush Week… it just has to do with getting to be friends, enjoying the crazy parties we went to, the all nighters studying for tests, the tears from broken hearts and the laughter from getting revenge!
The memories from our years of college keep us bonded but the moments we have shared since are what keeps us together as we trudge through life.
Saturday was one of those moments. Each of us bringing our favorite drink, a few bites to nibble on and a whole bunch of everything going on in our lives to talk about.
From dealing with our kids birthday parties to weight watchers and marathons, and everything in between.
For 9 hours we simply talked and laughed and just got to be the girls we once were laying on couches and sharing our lives for hours on end.
The setting was perfect: Anne’s parents condo while they were out of town. Which meant no interruptions, no kids’ toys to look at, no phone calls – just us – just perfect.
What I love most about these women is our honesty. No one is making their life out to be what it is not. No one is upping the other one – in fact, the honesty is so great that instead of portraying some glorified life – everyone just pours out what isn’t so good… and is looking for help or confirmation.
Which everyone else so freely gives. No, my daughter isn’t an Einstein, no my husband doesn’t help with the kids parties, no, I don’t know the last time my husband and I went on vacation just the two of us… etc…
We are real girls (okay women) who share openly everything about our lives because we know it is safe to do so. What friends could be better than that?
One of our friends could only come for a few hours because she just had a baby… We begged her to bring him along…so Peter got to join our circle of friendship… What could be more adorable in a room full of moms who have no more babies of their own - than a baby?
Everyone “fought” to hold Peter… No one cared when he spit up all over them… no one cared that he cried… We were just so in awe of how small he was – how cuddly he was… and we all talked about when we had our first babies and it seemed so hard…
Now we all know that every age is hard. The toddlers who have tantrums, the 6 year olds who can’t share and now the 11 year olds who talk back and already think we don’t know anything.
No, Peter was a dream a come true that night! (Not to mention some great practice for being a grandma!)
Peter’s visit was short lived… but our conversation was not. Well into the wee hours of the morning we talked. We had cake to celebrate Tina’s birthday around midnight…eventually sleep became a necessity and conversation came to an end.
It had been forever since we all were able to just crawl to our beds in the same house. There is something rather comforting about knowing your closest friends are there with you. Maybe it is nostalgic of our younger days…but, maybe it really is just knowing that if you needed anything during the night you know you could wake someone who would sincerely be there for you.
Night turned to morning and as I walked downstairs, everyone was sitting around, coffee in hand, TALKING… We had not run out of things to say – I don’t know if we ever could.
I plopped down and joined the conversation as though I had never left.
There is something magical about waking up to your friends… no kids to make happy, no laundry staring at you or dirty dishes… just your friends who want nothing more than to hang out.
Gosh, I miss that.
The coffee cups emptied and soon the cocoon we had enjoyed – our escape from life – would open and expose us to our real lives again.
However, we were ready. Re-charged by laughter and great company – we could go back to or daily lives and feel happy…
That is what friends do – allow one another a safe place to talk and open up and make one another feel good about who we are and where we are in life.
Go ahead - poke fun at sororities – if you want…but for those of us who were silly enough to join them – we came out with friends who have helped us and continue to help us as we go through life – unconditionally.
Some people cringe when they hear sorority, some people laugh at the concept – some people think it is just a bunch of fake, snobby girls… Maybe some are. But, I met 8 of my closest friends from college in my sorority and after over 15 years, we are still the best of friends who cherish the time we get to spend together.
No, it has nothing to do with the secret handshake or the ominous night of initiation or the ridiculous crap we did doing Rush Week… it just has to do with getting to be friends, enjoying the crazy parties we went to, the all nighters studying for tests, the tears from broken hearts and the laughter from getting revenge!
The memories from our years of college keep us bonded but the moments we have shared since are what keeps us together as we trudge through life.
Saturday was one of those moments. Each of us bringing our favorite drink, a few bites to nibble on and a whole bunch of everything going on in our lives to talk about.
From dealing with our kids birthday parties to weight watchers and marathons, and everything in between.
For 9 hours we simply talked and laughed and just got to be the girls we once were laying on couches and sharing our lives for hours on end.
The setting was perfect: Anne’s parents condo while they were out of town. Which meant no interruptions, no kids’ toys to look at, no phone calls – just us – just perfect.
What I love most about these women is our honesty. No one is making their life out to be what it is not. No one is upping the other one – in fact, the honesty is so great that instead of portraying some glorified life – everyone just pours out what isn’t so good… and is looking for help or confirmation.
Which everyone else so freely gives. No, my daughter isn’t an Einstein, no my husband doesn’t help with the kids parties, no, I don’t know the last time my husband and I went on vacation just the two of us… etc…
We are real girls (okay women) who share openly everything about our lives because we know it is safe to do so. What friends could be better than that?
One of our friends could only come for a few hours because she just had a baby… We begged her to bring him along…so Peter got to join our circle of friendship… What could be more adorable in a room full of moms who have no more babies of their own - than a baby?
Everyone “fought” to hold Peter… No one cared when he spit up all over them… no one cared that he cried… We were just so in awe of how small he was – how cuddly he was… and we all talked about when we had our first babies and it seemed so hard…
Now we all know that every age is hard. The toddlers who have tantrums, the 6 year olds who can’t share and now the 11 year olds who talk back and already think we don’t know anything.
No, Peter was a dream a come true that night! (Not to mention some great practice for being a grandma!)
Peter’s visit was short lived… but our conversation was not. Well into the wee hours of the morning we talked. We had cake to celebrate Tina’s birthday around midnight…eventually sleep became a necessity and conversation came to an end.
It had been forever since we all were able to just crawl to our beds in the same house. There is something rather comforting about knowing your closest friends are there with you. Maybe it is nostalgic of our younger days…but, maybe it really is just knowing that if you needed anything during the night you know you could wake someone who would sincerely be there for you.
Night turned to morning and as I walked downstairs, everyone was sitting around, coffee in hand, TALKING… We had not run out of things to say – I don’t know if we ever could.
I plopped down and joined the conversation as though I had never left.
There is something magical about waking up to your friends… no kids to make happy, no laundry staring at you or dirty dishes… just your friends who want nothing more than to hang out.
Gosh, I miss that.
The coffee cups emptied and soon the cocoon we had enjoyed – our escape from life – would open and expose us to our real lives again.
However, we were ready. Re-charged by laughter and great company – we could go back to or daily lives and feel happy…
That is what friends do – allow one another a safe place to talk and open up and make one another feel good about who we are and where we are in life.
Go ahead - poke fun at sororities – if you want…but for those of us who were silly enough to join them – we came out with friends who have helped us and continue to help us as we go through life – unconditionally.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Truths: Assumed Guilty
Wednesday, my daughter, Abby flew home from FL by herself. It was a very stressful and traumatic experience for her. She started crying two days before the flight!
(The only reason that it was done this way was because plans changed at the last minute due to unfortunate circumstances and it was the only was she could go to FL for spring break.)
On the airlines she flew, Spirit, it cost an extra $100.00 to have an unaccompanied minor travel. With this they get a free snack and a beverage. What a deal, huh?
So, my parents were able to walk her to the gate and stay with her til the plane came… Which happened to be 3 ½ hours late. Now, instead of getting home at 8:30 – she would be lucky to arrive before midnight!
I had given her my phone and she was texting me every minute… Mom, where are you. Mom, our plane is late. Mom, I am never doing this again! This went on for hours.
After knowing that the plane finally took off at 9pm, I decided I would leave around 10pm to get to the airport.
I got to O’Hare Airport at 11pm. I parked the car and went into the terminal to the Spirit desk. The whole place was empty, but there was an agent at the desk.
I approached the desk with my ID, my paperwork and confidently said, “I need a gate pass to get my daughter.”
Expecting a response like, “Okay, what is your name and the flight number?”
But, instead, I got, “I am sorry but all of the security is closed down. I can’t get you to the other side.”
WHAT?
Immediately panicked and freaked out – I went from calm to complete maniac!
“Are you kidding me? We paid so that we could meet my daughter at the gate.”
“I am sorry but that can’t happen – we will have someone bring her to the luggage carousel.”
“No! That is not how it is going to work! She will freak out if I am not there to get her.”
“I am sorry, mam, but that is the best I can do since the security is gone.”
“So, you are telling me that if a terrorist came into this airport right now with a bomb, there would be no one here to deal with it?”
Blank stare.
I shouted some more and left the desk on a mission to find someone in security.
I walked, ran across the entire terminal - until I was pointed to the security manager, Dale.
I was a maniac by this point - screaming and flustered.
Dale told me that no one from Spirit had even contacted him about the situation… so he calmly told me to go back to Spirit with his business card and tell them to call him.
I ran, again, across the terminal to the jack ass who wouldn’t help me – never even took my name and gave him Dale’s card and said, “You need to call him – you never even contacted security in the first place.”
He was on the phone with his supervisor when I was there and he told her what I just said. So, she said she would call. 5 minutes of waiting and he starts this whole saga,
“I just want you to know that my supervisor is not happy about this situation. We are going to let you do this but it is completely against policy. We would never do this for anyone else. This is a huge exception.”
I said, “I certainly hope you don’t think I am going to be overly grateful… This is what you were supposed to do in the first place. I paid for this service.”
Angry, frustrated, I ran back to the other side to Dale with my gate pass.
He said, “So, what did they give you?” (he was smiling)
I handed him the gate pass and he said come with me.
He took me to the behind the scenes security and like all the other times at the airport, I had to take off my shoes and send my purse through the x-ray machine. Even after that they hand checked my shoes and purse and finally let me go to the gate – which, of course, was the last flipping gate in the terminal.
I run to the gate – only to find that the plane is late and won’t be here for another 30 minutes!
I am drenched in sweat and my heart is beating faster than a car at Nascar! But, I made it.
All I could think about is how if I had been a terrorist – the better attention I would have received. It wouldn’t have mattered that security was closed – they would have found an immediate way to deal with me.
But, as a frantic, innocent mom – the airlines didn’t give a crap.
9/11 changed everything forever… Now, instead of being assumed innocent – we are all guilty until we make it through security.
Airlines continue to treat people like crap. I swear it is the only industry who has no responsibility for treating customers with care. They can bump you from flights, make you miss your connection, leave you stranded for hours, even days – and you cannot do one damn thing about it!
I can understand the whole weather issue – but I absolutely cannot understand how they can keep a mother from her child. They really crossed the line there.
I owe my success that night to Dale. The security manager who made things happen. Who regardless of my screaming – helped me.
I don’t owe a damn thing to the airline: Spirit. Who didn’t give a crap about me or my minor child. All I own them is bad PR…and boy are the going to get it!
(The only reason that it was done this way was because plans changed at the last minute due to unfortunate circumstances and it was the only was she could go to FL for spring break.)
On the airlines she flew, Spirit, it cost an extra $100.00 to have an unaccompanied minor travel. With this they get a free snack and a beverage. What a deal, huh?
So, my parents were able to walk her to the gate and stay with her til the plane came… Which happened to be 3 ½ hours late. Now, instead of getting home at 8:30 – she would be lucky to arrive before midnight!
I had given her my phone and she was texting me every minute… Mom, where are you. Mom, our plane is late. Mom, I am never doing this again! This went on for hours.
After knowing that the plane finally took off at 9pm, I decided I would leave around 10pm to get to the airport.
I got to O’Hare Airport at 11pm. I parked the car and went into the terminal to the Spirit desk. The whole place was empty, but there was an agent at the desk.
I approached the desk with my ID, my paperwork and confidently said, “I need a gate pass to get my daughter.”
Expecting a response like, “Okay, what is your name and the flight number?”
But, instead, I got, “I am sorry but all of the security is closed down. I can’t get you to the other side.”
WHAT?
Immediately panicked and freaked out – I went from calm to complete maniac!
“Are you kidding me? We paid so that we could meet my daughter at the gate.”
“I am sorry but that can’t happen – we will have someone bring her to the luggage carousel.”
“No! That is not how it is going to work! She will freak out if I am not there to get her.”
“I am sorry, mam, but that is the best I can do since the security is gone.”
“So, you are telling me that if a terrorist came into this airport right now with a bomb, there would be no one here to deal with it?”
Blank stare.
I shouted some more and left the desk on a mission to find someone in security.
I walked, ran across the entire terminal - until I was pointed to the security manager, Dale.
I was a maniac by this point - screaming and flustered.
Dale told me that no one from Spirit had even contacted him about the situation… so he calmly told me to go back to Spirit with his business card and tell them to call him.
I ran, again, across the terminal to the jack ass who wouldn’t help me – never even took my name and gave him Dale’s card and said, “You need to call him – you never even contacted security in the first place.”
He was on the phone with his supervisor when I was there and he told her what I just said. So, she said she would call. 5 minutes of waiting and he starts this whole saga,
“I just want you to know that my supervisor is not happy about this situation. We are going to let you do this but it is completely against policy. We would never do this for anyone else. This is a huge exception.”
I said, “I certainly hope you don’t think I am going to be overly grateful… This is what you were supposed to do in the first place. I paid for this service.”
Angry, frustrated, I ran back to the other side to Dale with my gate pass.
He said, “So, what did they give you?” (he was smiling)
I handed him the gate pass and he said come with me.
He took me to the behind the scenes security and like all the other times at the airport, I had to take off my shoes and send my purse through the x-ray machine. Even after that they hand checked my shoes and purse and finally let me go to the gate – which, of course, was the last flipping gate in the terminal.
I run to the gate – only to find that the plane is late and won’t be here for another 30 minutes!
I am drenched in sweat and my heart is beating faster than a car at Nascar! But, I made it.
All I could think about is how if I had been a terrorist – the better attention I would have received. It wouldn’t have mattered that security was closed – they would have found an immediate way to deal with me.
But, as a frantic, innocent mom – the airlines didn’t give a crap.
9/11 changed everything forever… Now, instead of being assumed innocent – we are all guilty until we make it through security.
Airlines continue to treat people like crap. I swear it is the only industry who has no responsibility for treating customers with care. They can bump you from flights, make you miss your connection, leave you stranded for hours, even days – and you cannot do one damn thing about it!
I can understand the whole weather issue – but I absolutely cannot understand how they can keep a mother from her child. They really crossed the line there.
I owe my success that night to Dale. The security manager who made things happen. Who regardless of my screaming – helped me.
I don’t owe a damn thing to the airline: Spirit. Who didn’t give a crap about me or my minor child. All I own them is bad PR…and boy are the going to get it!
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