In my next life………….

So here I find myself sick again.   This time on bed-rest with some influenza bug that has wreaked havoc on my entire body.   It all started with razor-blade like sensations in my throat and is now haunting me in the form of body aches, fever, weakness, migraines, earache and stomach rot.  

Tylenol, Gravol and Pennicilin are my new best friends.   I sleep a lot – on average 9 – 14 hours per day.    I’ve watched a lot of DVD’s in bed – have been very active on facebook and I have also tested every human’s patience around me.  For that, I’m sorry. 

But for my credit -  I’ve put together some pretty thorough supply teacher plans.   The kids only went through three supplies last week – and then we found a keeper.   Thank goodness for that.

Most of my family members are ready to commit me to the loony bin – but my shrink however says NO WAY!   Bed Rest, fluids and high calorie foods.      I have lost 14 lbs which has made my boobs even smaller.   Is that possible?  Lol!!!

So I’m a horrible sick person.   I’m impatient, irritable and have NO patience.   I’m stubborn and am not stellar at abiding by the bed-rest rules  – but I’ve been trying hard since Saturday.

I’m smoking like a chimney -  which I’m sure is really helping matters.     I have bounced around to different family members houses, testing out to see who has the most comfortable bed, and quietest house.  Aunt Maralee’s, Nanny’s, Mom & Dad’s  – they’re all great!      

  To add to the equation – Rez is also on bed – rest, and his vet bill is nearing $500 for the week.   He has chased too many cars, and too many rabbits in the past week  (all my fault) and has re-injured his knee.   So my constant companion is keeping Corey company and is banned to the main floor and going out on a leash.   Hopefully the rest will help us avoid a $3000 knee surgery bill —–  but the verdict is still out!!!!

So in this time in bed, I’ve had some time to reflect on what I will do differently in my next life:

I will have bigger boobs    (B cup at least)

I will be healthy all of the time

I will live in a bungalow on the water

I will sing and play guitar

I will learn another langauge

I will travel more

I will spend more time in the great outdoors

I will read more

I will read the news, and stay up to date on current events

I will spend more time with my family and friends

I will laugh a lot

I will work a desk job and do filing and typing

I will not have a cell phone

I will have NO pets  (mom and dad laugh at this one)

I will go to more concerts

I will become a better swimmer

I will never ever smoke

I will still enjoy red wine, beer and whiskey

I will eat healthier

I will cook and bake all the time

I will be kind of chubby

I will exercise more  -  not at the gym but outdoors or Zumba!

I will get my Masters or PHD in something interesting

I will donate more money to charity

I will avoid drama

I will not be stubborn

I will always buy myself freshly cut flowers

I will have a fireplace

I will still enjoy the sunshine and sunny beaches

I will meditate and be more in touch with some spiritual side

I will be a morning person

I will write more, and keep a better journal

 

Grieving for a Grandpa I Just got to know

WILFRED PETERSON,    WILF,  WOLFIE, DAD, GRANDPA, GREAT GRANDPA

 

I really only got to know my grandpa in the last two years of his life.  And that is no fault but my own.  

What I learned immediately in my very first visit with him was that he was a very special and wonderful man.   Although he wasn’t an animal lover, he was like a cat with nine lives.   A celebrity at Kingston General Hospital amongst the nurses and doctors who remembered him for his Whipple’s Procedure,  in 2001.  Nurses always raved about how stoic he was, and what a gentleman he was regardless of how much pain he was in. 

The first time I ever sat with him at the hospital, he was sentimental.   It was apparent right away, that he held a huge amount of love in his heart for all of his family, but that maybe he wasn’t the best person at articulating that, and putting that love into words.   But it was there in abundance.

He took my hand that day, and he told me how much it meant for him that I was there.   Then he looked at me very seriously and said “So Stephanie, what kind of car do you drive?”   I laughed, but I will never forget that moment.   For that’s when I knew that my mom was her father’s daughter, when it comes to their cars.   I think the other Peterson’s may have missed out on that gene!!  J

He wanted me to tell him all about Corey, and he listened very attentively as I talked.   Making sure of course, to ask what kind of car Corey drove as well.   Not long after that chat he met Corey.   Later he told me “Stephanie, I know men.  I’ve worked as a boss all my life, working with many many men, and what you’ve got yourself there is a truly good man””  Well thanks Grandpa, I most certainly do.

Grandpa lived a blessed life, despite all that he overcame and the sickness and pain he often endured every day, but I don’t think that man ever complained.   He kept his spirits up, and his sharp wit and sense of humour intact.

He also had the joy of having Lucy in his life, always by his side.   Lucy loved her “Wolfie” like no woman could love someone.  He was her world, and she was a role model wife, caregiver, partner, and nurse for him.

And then there’s my Uncle Phil.   The man who is always doing, and right there for anyone no matter what’s needed.   He was there for his dad no matter if it was grass that needed cutting, a lightbulb changing, a driveway shoveled, a drive to the doctors, even if the dumb nurses and doctors needed at times to be beaten with the stupid stick….. well Uncle Phil was always there.  

I know even my grandma finds this to be a really hard time.   He was her first love, and the father of their children.   My grandma has always spoken of my grandfather with great fondness, and has always recognized him for the great man that he was.

 

Now he is gone.   It is a little surreal, and very sad.   But, when he left us, he was surrounded by a room full of people that loved him and who will forever cherish his life.

I wish that I’d had more time with him, but I feel truly blessed to have had the little time that I did.   I will always remember him for his strength, his charm, and his keen sense of humour, and heck, his good looks too.    Even in death, he was one handsome man!

Good bye grandpa.   I love you.   And every year I will walk in your Honour in the Kingston’s Parkinson’s Walk.   That’s the least I can do for you!

 

Love Stephanie!

Grieving for a Grandpa I lost almost 10 years ago

Orlo Kavaner,      “Poppy”

 

Hi Pop.  I just wanted to let you know that I miss you and think of you often.   I struggle with your death, because I wasn’t here when you were sick, I wasn’t here when you passed, and I missed the funeral.   I was on the other side of the world somewhere, doing something crazy.   And I know that you would have approved.

 

I remember one day at the lake, I’d come back from Korea, and I’d brought along my photo album to show people.   You poured over every picture and asked lots of questions, you were totally absorbed, lingering on each page.  You’re the only one like that.   I miss you.

 

I hate that my husband never got the chance to know you, you two definitely would have shared some “Wobbly pops’ by the shed.   I wish that you’d gotten to meet my dog Rez – you’d love him, he’s stubborn like you.

 

Wilfred passed away this week.  I was there when he died, and to be honest I felt really out of place being there.   It was a sad time however, for all of the family as I’m sure you understand.   It made me think of you, and your final days and your final moments, and what they were like.  I’m sorry that I never got to say goodbye.   But you wouldn’t have taken me seriously, you would have laughed me off, or pinched me hard.   But maybe in those final days I could have caught you sleeping and given you a great big hug and kiss.   That would have been nice.  J   And secretly you would have liked it.

 

I wrote a letter about you when you were getting sick.   Nanny and Phil kept it stowed away all of these years, and I just recently asked for it back.  Here it is:

 

Pop was a man who was always seen with a cigarette resting limply between his lips.  The smoke was a permanent fixture, along with an old plaid jacket.  His ashes usually landed wherever they fell, and he was oblivious.  His shirts and work pants were always patterned with various burn holes.  

Pop had rough gigantic hands, a real working man, but with a heart of gold.  A man of sharp wit.  An avid animal lover, and an all knowing owl of current events and weather forecasts.  He’s a gentle giant.  A mechanic sent from God.   He’s an alarm clock in the mornings.   He’s a giver, always there for everyone else.  And best of all, He’s my grandpa!

Pop is a man who conjures the warmest images in my heart.   He is the person you can count on when anything comes up, no matter what side of Timbucktoo your car breaks down on, he’s always there to fix it, furthermore when your car heads to the junker he’s there to chauffeur you to all of your appointments, and no matter what, he won’t take any money for gas.

Pop’s early to bed routine has been broken so many times, by someone in the family’s misfortunes with broken down cars, and I’ve never heard him grunt one single complaint.  He is a man who gives everything.

He used to drive me to my ballet classes every week, and there wasn’t one drive that didn’t end with him reaching into his holy pocket for a worn dollar for treats at John’s Deli.   Pop is a man who gives and gives, and doesn’t expect or accept any thanks.   When you try to thank him, he just grunts  and waves you off.

As a burly man his form of affections were shown through wrestling, knotting my hair, and pretending to gnaw off my fingers.   Somewhere deep down inside of him was a snuggly bear because as you watch him with Magoo he’s gentler than a chick.  This puny puppy sitting on this giant’s lap, at ease and with great affection in his eyes.    Everyone looks at pop with affection, because he’s done everything for everyone in so many different ways.

After he caught on to the fact that my brother and I didn’t believe he could get the hockey scores on his hearing aids, he decided that he’d try to appreciate our great love for what was then the “cool” radio station, CKLC.   Anytime that my brother and I were in the car with him he’d crank this station up, and tap his hands loudly on the steering wheel to whatever rythms were buzzing into his hearing aids.

When it comes to Christmas time, people get stumped when it comes to Pop.  You always want to get him something wonderful to thank him for the countless things he’s done.   But he never asks for a thing.   There are always work boots and pants, that he’s worn right through in a year’s passing, and there’s the popcorn tins he seems to love so  much.   But this year all is needed is a second chance, then we can all look after him, as he’s looked after us since the beginning.  Pop is the strongest man I’ve ever seen.   But to know that he, a man who hasn’t been to one doctor in years, went voluntarily to the hospital is the worst sign of all.  It means he has set aside all of the burdens of others and without the comforting presence of  that cigarette that has now made him so sick.  This is the time I wish I was there, to help him, and to show him how much I care.  I wish I was there to steal a hug when he was sleeping, and sneak him in a beer.  If this strong gentle giant can carry a fridge, then he can fight this, because I want 20 more years.

 

I love you Pop.

Stephanie

Xoxox

 

So I didn’t get my wish, and we lost you.   But you are still so loved, and thought of everyday.  

HELP!!!!!!!! PLEASE, I’M EVEN WILLING TO PAY!! I’m Also having a Pity Woe is Me Sympathy Party – so smack me anytime

(Written yesterday April  24th)

Today I am so angry, irritable and impatient…… so much so, that it has been a challenge to not flip out on someone, write hate mail, or just smash something.  

So I’ve just tried to bite my tongue, and lay around and practice patience.   I can’t even begin to tell you how tiring that is.   It really just pisses me off more.

Yesterday my family doctor was amazing – she examined me, did a five minute throat swab –NEGATVIE FOR STREP -  which leaves mono as our other game player J  She prescribed some Pennicilin to fight off any infections, and percocets to take to control the pain.    She told me I had to stay on top of the pain, and not wait to take them when I was already in agony -   Ok then, whoops, wasn’t doing that before.

So I started that routine last night -  and slept all the way through the night without waking up at 1am in pain and no “night sweats” -  I slept right through until nine.  YAHOO!!!!!!!!    Corey had kindly taken Rez to work with him, so that was one less thing for me to have to worry about. 

I woke up woozy – with one mission – needed to buy bread and smokes. (I know, I know, it’s on the list of things to quit -  and I really am working on it J)

So I wondered to the store on the corner and made the purchases.  J  

 And that short trip, sucked the living life out of me – I had to lay down on the couch as soon as I got back.   That’s where I stayed camped out for the day.

Today my symptoms weren’t so much of a sore throat – but an aching body that felt like it was battered by a baseball bat all through the night.    My glands In my throat are so swollen it hurts to turn my head –  and who knew you had glands in your armpits -  they are swollen and aching and hurt to rise my arms in any way.   WTF?

Top that off with a fever, gut rot, and it’s a pretty banner day.

I am a horrible sick person, I hate being sick, I’m super impatient, and I’m too stubborn for my own good.

 

Since Last Saturday I have consumed:

Soup broth with soda crackers

More soup broth with soda crackers

oatmeal

*A Yankee Porkside Soup 

*A chicken Caesar wrap                                    *All served to me by Richie my

*Some Fries                                                              favorite server at Westport’s

a piece of a Caramilk Bar                                    Tangled Garden

soda crackers with peanut butter

a slice of lasagna

oatmeal

cereal bar

But I have drank loads of water, tea, gatorade, neo-citrin, and coffee

So I am trying to stay hydrated as best I can.

  But my consumption definitely shows why I am weak and feel like I’m going to collapse every time I stand up.  

As a stubborn and bull headed annoying human – I have always found it difficult to ask other people for help.   It’s a skill I’ve been working on a lot this year – mostly in regards to my work but also in my personal life as well.

Today I asked for help,  I even used the words “I need your help”  in various different ways.    Maybe I was not speaking clearly, or maybe people thought I was asking too much of them, or putting them in an awkward position…..  but today I wanted to tell all of the people that couldn’t help me to F*** OFF.   

I felt helpless , alone and so angry  — all for no good reason!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

People have their own lives to lead – and their lives do not revolve around me.

Novel idea -  I was having a narcissistic moment – but caught myself there J

Corey came home – and he’s had to put up with me the monster, plus his immune system is probably battling this bug too, so he was exhausted after his escapade taking Rez to the vet – not to mention running a business all day   J   He walked in and went to sleep – right where he needed to be.

That still left me stuck on the couch – stuck doing hours of planning for a supply teacher, who apparently isn’t even very good.    It’s so much more work being sick sometimes than it is just sucking it up and going in.   If only I could muster up the strength it would be good for me.

Instead I’m sitting here stewing, stewing about who I can get to help me tomorrow.

It’s all in a nice neat list – at this point I’m willing to pay someone to do it J

Why am I being such a spoiled rotten miserable brat???

THE HELP STEPH LIST:

c   Make sure Rosie has food (top of stairs), and water in the upstairs bathroom

c   carry the recycle boxes downstairs

c  sort the recycle into proper boxes

c   laundry in dryer  (fold)

c  clean up vomit on spare room carpet (stain remover?)

c  unload dishwasher

c  load dishwasher

c  clean aquarium and replace filter

c    shopping list:     microwave quick meals that can be easily heated in microwave

                                    ,Ensure or vanilla soy drinks

c    Rez Vet appt. 3:30pm     Limestone City Animal hospital

       Rideau Street.

         cold lazer therapy  (I think I still had two sessions I hadn’t used yet?)

            heartworm test

                        Revolutuion flea and tic stuff for Rez and Rosie  ( summer supply)

That’s it I think.    For some stupid reason I cancelled the cleaning ladies for tomorrow – because I didn’t want them bumping around – while I laid coma toast in bed or on the couch.

Now I’m thinking that I might just call them back and change my mind

I feel less weak today – could be because I ordered a pizza for myself at 1am and ate three pieces.    Totally fixed my gut rot and upset stomach -  my body was telling me that I needed FOOD.   

Just talked to Corey – the plague has hit him – he is “feeling rough”.

No More epic Adventures – banished to Bagot St. bed & couch

April 23^rd 2012

BURRIDGE LAKE, ON

 

So I’ve been kicked into survival mode for more than a week now.   Survival mode gets tiring, constantly doing for others, and forgetting about yourself.  So the consequences of that, are that I am sick now.   “When the body says No” the body says no.    I have spent the last 2 days lying on couches or beds.   I even braved emergency to get some relief from anti-biotics – but instead have to wait the 24 hours for the results of my throat swab.

So I’m waiting.  I’ve been living the philosophy, what’s meant to be will be, and not sweating the small stuff.   It works.

I’ve also been looking for signs, so I’m on  my own sojourn and waiting for something to come to me.   When the shit really hits the fan,  Corey and I don’t get along,  instead of working together we grind against each other, and get mad and irritable.  So that’s why I headed to the cottage, we both needed space, and I wanted to be somewhere where the phone wouldn’t ring and it was quiet.  I am a runner when things get bed – I run away, far away, but the cottage isn’t that far -  it’s not even long distance!!!

 

I know that I’ve been a bear to live with for the past week, and when I’m better Corey can scream and yell at me all he wants, and I’m sure that I deserve every bit of it.   But for now,  I just need someone to look after me, bring me hot water and lemon, dose me up with Tylenol and advil when it’s time.   That kind of thing.

Right now Rez has taken over – he’s not that helpful.   But he’s mine and I love him.

 

I went to sleep at 7 last night.  I threw a dangerous amount of logs into the woodstove, and slept straight through until 1:32am.  I woke up in a sweat, with a fever, took some pills, added more wood to the fire, and went straight back to sleep.

I could hear Rez pacing around this morning, and there were strange sounds on the roof.   Finally he came up and nudged me with his wet nose, so I got up to let him out – only to find the fire had gone out and there was a wet blanket of snow covering the ground.   Awesome! 

So it’s all about survival now.   Don’t feel up to packing up and getting in the car to drive home, so I am bundled up and waiting out the snow.  

I’m so angry, and I’m so sick.  The hospital still hasn’t called – and my family doctor has no appointments available for the week.   She is working in the clinic tonight though – so I may drive in for that.

 

MUCH LATER THE SAME DAY:

I am sick of having “Epic” days, and epic Rez Dog adventures.   In my next life I am not going to have any pets.

 

After I wrote this, I mustered up the energy to pack up my gear and pack up the car.  But this time, I was smart, very smart.  I leashed up Rez dog inside the house – there was no chance for him to escape – with the leash I could force him into the trunk.

And that is what I did.

I had all of my gear in order, the cottage was closed up with a nice fire burning in the woodstove…. I put the car into reverse asked Rez to lie down so I could see out the back window —-   

But last week I remembered to take my snow tires off the car.    With a snow covered steep drive way I was going nowhere fast.  My wheels had NO traction reversing on the steep cottage driveway.   I put the car into park and thought to myself – “is this a sign, to just stay right where I am”    But the thought of having to keep the wood stove burning, and having to trek to the neighbour’s outhouse every time I needed to pee —–  I just mustered up the strength to get out of the driveway.

But no love.   I couldn’t do a three-point turn with the stupid Rez dog in the way of my back window.   

So I made a stupid decision -  I let the Rez dog out of the trunk.   Took a deep breath, and tried again.    No Love.   Too many rocks and trees in my way to do a three point turn.

So then I phoned a friend -   he said I needed a heavy weight in the back seat – or sand to put on the snow -   he suggested trying the three point turn again.

So I did.   And it worked.     But then the damn dog wouldn’t get in the car.

I screamed and yelled and cursed at him, but it didn’t work.

I HATE dogs.

So I drove down the road – at first he led the way, running in front of the car.    Then I screamed at him again.    And he took off into the woods.

So I drove on, watching his dumb ears flop in my rearview mirror.

I was almost to the Burridge store when he was finally ready to get in.

We did not speak – my throat was sore from all of the screaming.

 

He got in the back, smiling and drooling all over -   I think he even winked at me in the rearview mirror.

He is a BAD Dog and this is not a funny story.   Tomorrow it will be funny, but today he’s a dog free to a good home.

I dropped him off at the shop -  got him some water – while he proceeded to puke all over the shop.   

I cleaned up one pile in Corey’s office – and then thought I was going to puke myself so headed for the car.

Today he is Corey’s dog….

I’m in my own bed now, watching Good Will Hunting, and waiting for my father-in law.    He’s going to take me to my doctor’s.  

I went to my Shrink’s today – because everyone is worried that I’ve lost my mind.

She gave me shit for being there  “You need to be in bed right now or at the hospital, what on Earth are you doing here?”   LOL!!!

 

My family doctor is a wonderful woman – my father in law came right in with me – she did strep test that shows results in 5 minutes (why didn’t they do that at the hospital?)  It was negative.   She thinks I may have picked mono up from one of my students.   Awesome!!!!!     She prescribed Pennysilin & Percocets for the pain, and I have to go for blood work tomorrow if I’m up to it.

Tonight I’m in the arms of my wonderful and loving husband, who makes a damn good nurse!

Grief

It is funny how time can morph itself into one single unit, and a whole week can become a blur.

Last Friday after school I received an email from my mom saying she was headed to Kingston, because her father was in ICU with a “do not resuscitate order”. She asked if she could pick me up on her way to the hospital. So I sat and waited for her to arrive………. and from that moment the rest is all kind of blurred and melded together.

I am not really comfortable around sick or dying people, I never know what to say or what to do. But when I walked into my grandfather’s hospital room – I froze literally froze. My mom however stepped straight into nurse mode – attending to his mask, wiping his face. As soon as he saw her, these big tears slipped out of his eye, and you could tell how comforted he was to have her there.

I on the other hand, not so suave and cool – I moved to the chair furthest from his bed and immediately texted my husband “I can’t do this. Come get me now” He didn’t reply.

Then the nurse stepped in, and told us what we already knew, nothing that they were trying was working, and he was getting worse. We needed to have a family meeting, and get Uncle Phil and Lucy back to the hospital.

So you know what that meant? That meant I had a job, and I could handle that. I left my capable mom in the room with her dad, and I went and called everyone. But everyone in this family is spread out. I appreciated my family members who were tech-savvy and at least owned a cell phone and knew how to answer it. Uncle Paul and Uncle Dave even know how to text!!!!!! But they were also both the furthest away, Dave was in Toronto or Hamilton, and Paul was in Listowell. (I don’t even know where that is, I just know that it is too far away)

Uncle Paul started driving as soon as I talked to him, and asked me to text him as we had updates. So that’s what I did. In the moment, it seemed natural, but now I can’t even believe I was texting two sons about their dying father’s condition while they were so far away.

Uncle Dave was the only one who didn’t make it in time. As soon as Uncle Paul arrived, the oxygen mask was removed. The room was full of family, aunts, uncles, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters husbands, ,step-grandmothers, and cousins. It was comforting.

When he passed it was really peaceful, and not what I was expecting at all. That was comforting.

By this time it was nearing 1pm. Not many of us had eaten anything since lunch. So we all went our separate ways.

So that was just day 1 of what is now – a 9 day blur. Since that time, here’s what’s happened:

- Saturday night pot luck here

- Saturday night drunken episode with my brother

- anger

- flowers bought

- wrote a letter to family

- (included a letter inside each sympathy card I sent)

- thank you cards started

- invites made up for the Celebration of Life

- plants delivered to my grandma and Lucy (step grandmother)

- shed emptied, and lock changed

- decided going to work would be a good distraction, and it was until a student walked in

with a bouquet of flowers for me

- bought myself a funeral dress or two – was wondering why the amount of the bill was so much, but was too tired to question it, so I just paid – later found the lovely sales associate had included a $410 blazer without asking me GRRRRRRRRRR

- booked an appointment with doctor to get sleeping pills – & got a $25 parking ticket while I was there GRRRRRRRRRRR

- Went to the cottage to escape it all – and to have some quality Steph and Rez time – got there and

I was locked out of the cottage – but used that trusted cell phone again and managed to get in – even

got the electricity on with the help of Corey

- talked to an old friend, who helped me make a fire in the woodstove

- fell asleep without a sleeping pill and slept through til morning – when I woke up frozen and damp – my fire had died

- drove home in the am

- got my hair done, went tanning, went grocery shopping, bought a plant for myself, picked up my prescription, bought a clutch purse and then came home to get ready for the services

- opted out of going to graveside, and went and played cards at my grandma’s

- went to the service at the funeral home

- threw a party at the yacht club FUN!!!!!

- drank too much and smoked too much

- woke up sick

- attempted Emergency twice – 2nd mission at 1am successful – in and out fast. But have to wait 24 hours to see if it’s Strep or Mono – doc says I’m “a little old for Mono”

So everyone handles grief differently……… I have juggled with two emotions in full force this week, and they are sadness and anger. I’m so angry at the world, and the sadness well that just comes with losing someone I guess….

So that said, I’m taking a time out – from fixing other people, and putting other people before myself. I’m taking some Steph time – and right now that means lying in bed with my laptop, and extensive range of pharmaceuticals.

The Whirlwind!!!!!!!

Last weekend around this time, I was driving a six hour trek, in shock, on my way to Belleville General Hospital.   Today, I find myself, nestled on the couch, thankful & content; thinking that life is pretty grand.   

Dad decided that one little heart attack, wasn’t good enough, so he had two little heart attacks.  He however changes the language to “Oh, I just had two little episodes honey”.    Whatever language we see fit, the best thing is, he is doing fine.   The even better news is that his angiogram showed no signs of heart disease or blockages!!!   So no stents were needed to be put in.   (So where the evidence of those Dooer’s Doughnuts, and Party Packs of Timbits are hiding, we’ll never know!!)   Although this does leave the cause of his two little heart attacks to be somewhat of a mystery, his cardiologist is determined to treat him as a heart patient, and will be following up with him regularly.

I have inundated dad with books, on healthy diets, heart 411, meal plans, and a fridge full of heart healthy food, I even lectured him on how his Nitro Spray needs to be carried around just like an epi-pen.  (I am bossy, mom and dad are right!)    I’m very proud of him so far, he’s only had one mishap, where he was too easily influenced by a bad role model…….  Let’s just say there was a middle of the night break-out to the hospital vending machine ……  where the naughty contents of the machine were basically calling out to dad and his roommate Rob.   One roomie played look-out and diversion, while the other one missioned it to the vending machine.   Well, I say, hey, with those knees and that buddha belly – dad, the runner, probably burnt enough calories running to the vending machine –  that that Coke was justified!     His look-out / roommate who downed a bag of Cheetos on the other hand, maybe not so good!

The sign that I knew dad was in for a huge lifestyle change, was when his lunch arrived, on the second day he spent in Emerge.   He got a sandwich, applesauce, and a small packet of shortbread cookies.   Knowing my father, normally the greedy cookie monster, I watched and waited.   The presence of the shortbreads seemed to unnerve him, it was like he wanted them to just disappear off of his tray.  He looked at me and said “Hon, do you want to eat my shortbreads”.   I almost fell over, literally, that is the first time in my whole life, 32 years, that my father has offered me a sweet that was his.    So that’s when I knew, dad was sold, embarking on a whole new relationship with food.   Although it’s not going to be easy – I know he can do it.

I love you dad, and I’m glad your heart is still ticking an unblocked beat!   Thanks to mom for everything you do!