There is still pain, there is still joy

I haven't blogged in a very long time.  I felt like there wasn't much new for me to talk about. What could I say at this point?  I have very hard days, I have very joy-filled days (sometimes they are the same day). I feel like I have turned a corner with my grief and with turning this corner brings
both good news and bad news.

The good news is that I don't feel like the grief is getting worse.  I have settled into a pattern of somewhat predictable ups and downs.  I'm better at recognizing when a melt-down might be on the horizon, and I'm more patient with myself when they happen.

The blood drive day

The bad news is, I think this is it. I think I've reached the point where my pain of losing Sue has healed as much as it is going to heal.  In other words, I don't think it's going to get much better than this.  I categorize this as bad news because the pain is still very present and very real.  It is just an everyday fact of life.

The end of 2015 is very near, and since I only blogged for a few months of this year, I'll try to summarize how I have worked toward healing this year.

--In June I took my kids on a camping trip. We had a week of relaxation, nature, and friends. This is the second year we have taken this trip, and it is one of my favorite new traditions.  I am finding that having a few new traditions that have started after Sue died has been helpful and healing to me.

--In August my oldest son started marching band with Sue's two boys.  This was something we had talked about and planned together.  We loved the idea of them being together in band. I went to just about every football game, sat by myself, and watched those three boys do the things Sue and I had planned. I watched them for both of us.  Then, when the end of marching band season came, I watched her oldest child be officially recognized at the band banquet for his four years of dedication to something Sue loved so much.  I watched for both of us.

The three boys, on one very cold night of marching

--On October 28th (my birthday, her death-day) I held the First Annual Suzanne McCarty Memorial Blood Drive at my church. I'm still sorting out my feelings about that day. I was proud that I helped collect 33 pints of blood for the Red Cross. I had fun greeting people and visiting with all of the many people who offered support. I felt immense pride watching her oldest boy lie down on the table and give his blood in memory of his mother.  But, in all honesty, that is not how I wanted to spend my birthday. I still struggle with the fact that I just want my old, normal life back. I wanted, REALLY wanted, to spend the day chatting with Sue on the phone and doing normal birthday things.

Now as this year is coming to a close, I can see that I have made progress, I've checked items off my "List of things that will help me heal," but I'm not all better. I am realizing that I will never be all better. There is nothing for me to do but keep moving forward, keep doing the next hard thing that seems to be around every corner.

2016 will be full of new challenges. Her oldest will graduate from high school and leave for college. Her youngest will leave elementary school and begin middle school. There will be hard days, when I miss her so much I will feel like the pain will break me apart. There will be days I will float through with a smile, memories of her lifting me up.

This is my life now: there is still pain and there is still joy.

A Weird Post In Which I Mention Potassium Permanganate and Overuse Asterisks

Ben represents me and how I feel about life's
annoyances, While Natalie is representing
 life (being annoying).  Or something.

There are a million little things that are stressing me out. For instance, we can't figure out, even after way too much time spent researching, how much potassium permanganate to put into our iron filter*. I promised myself that I wouldn't let the dumb little things get to me anymore, but it is a lot harder to put that into practice than I thought. Just because things aren't the most stressful I've ever felt in my life doesn't mean I can just shrug and say, "oh well."

But that is who I'd like to be. I'd like to be someone who has such a firm grasp on what's important and what's not that scraping the side of my van against a pole at the bank** would just cause me to say, "Well, that's annoying, but nobody's hurt so it will be fine." and go on with my day.

But the truth is, I am very much a work in progress. And the world doesn't stop with the minor annoyances to let me grieve in peace. I wish it worked that way, but it doesn't. I'd sure like it if some friend or employee of God could stand up there with a checklist and say, "She's had enough for awhile, let's make sure she doesn't have to deal with putting a new pump in her well this year***."

I am in need of a break from the minor junk. Earlier today I sent Frank this text message, "I need you to bring home some good news today, even if you have to make it up."

And this here is a picture of Ben, asleep for the night in his
room, under an overturned chair. I don't know why.

But here's some good news we don't need to make up:

I have had four people contact me about their decision to give blood in response to my request and that makes me so happy. One of them is someone who has never given blood before. The Red Cross website says each donation can help up to three people, so my lovely blog readers have helped/are about to help twelve people! That might not seem like a big deal, but I bet if we could talk to the families of those twelve people, they would think it is a very big deal.  Thanks for this.

So sometimes the good news is there if you go looking for it. I will keep working toward being that person I want to be. Just think, maybe someday when someone (I won't name names) spills a crap-load of red kool-aid all over the kitchen, I'll just say, "Okay, no big deal!" and clean it up.****

Thanks for reading this blog post. Because you hung in there and read all my gobbledy-gook, you will now be rewarded with a video of Ben in a hula skirt, trying to hula.  But instead of hula-ing he gets his skirt destroyed and nearly knocked over by our dog (while his family laughs at him).  Have a great Tuesday!

*If you know this, could you make my life easier and tell me?  Thanks.
**I did this, even though I told my newly driver's licensed nephew that I was going to make him take the heat for it. Just needed to get that out.
***This isn't a metaphor for anything. We had to get a new pump put in our well last week. It wasn't my favorite.
****I will never be this person. Red Kool-Aid is the bane of my existence.

As My Kids Would Say, "Could You Do Me A Solid?" (Or Maybe Two?)

On June 17th, Sue's Birthday, I wrote this post, which I ended with the line, "Today I'm just not sure what to do."

Later that day an idea came to me, and I knew exactly what I should do.

For almost 8 years prior to her death, Sue was on immunoglobulin therapy, an intravenous treatment derived from the blood supply.  It's purpose was to boost her immune system by injecting her with little bits of the immune systems of thousands of people.

Sue and her little girl at a family reunion in 2007

Every Friday night, Sue would get herself comfortable in bed, and set up the IV system, which involved a pump and 5 needles that she would insert into her stomach.  Then she would watch a movie, knit, or talk on the phone while the medicine slowly entered her system.  It would take a few hours.

This was not something that cured her, or even kept her from continuing to get sick, but I do think it drastically slowed her illness.  Her bouts with pneumonia decreased dramatically.

Sister Kate and I had gotten in the habit of donating blood every six weeks.  I would tell Sue, "Don't worry, we are pouring our blood right back into the system for you!"  She would chuckle and say, "Thanks, on behalf of myself and all the other sickies!"

But life got very hectic. As Sue's illness progressed we needed to be by her side. As a result, our blood donation routine fell off the schedule.

On her birthday I didn't just want to sit around crying about her. (I did a fair amount of that anyway though, trust me.)  I wanted to find something to do that would honor her memory.  Blood donation was the perfect "something".

As I sat in the chair with that needle in my arm, all I could think was, "This could keep somebody else's sister alive."  I thought about how fortunate we all were that because of our community blood supply, Sue's quality of life was better.  We had her for longer than we would have without it.

As I left the blood donation center on Saturday, I made my next appointment.  I am committed to keeping up with my every 6 week schedule now.

What do ya say?  Will you do our Mom a solid?

So, here's the favor:  would you consider donating blood in memory of my sister?  It would mean a lot to me (and to the sisters of the people whose lives you save or prolong!).  There is a current shortfall in the blood supply, you can click here to find a place near you to donate.  Tell your friends!  Let's save somebody's best friend, mom, daughter, dad, favorite cousin, grandpa, boyfriend, fun neighbor, or SISTER!

There are some of you who can't donate for various reasons (hello pregnant cousin!) but you can still help! You could help by sharing, tweeting, whatever-ing this post to other people you know who CAN donate! (You could also just tell people.  Or, and here's a great idea, you could make an appointment for a friend, then tell them you are taking them to get a Slurpee, but take them to give blood instead!  Just kidding, don't do that, your friend will probably be mad.  But I'm sure you have other creative ideas in that head of yours.)

And then, (yes I'm asking for a favor on top of my favor) could you just leave me a comment or call me (I'm just assuming that everyone who reads this blog has my phone number.) and let me know that you did it?  It would seriously make my day, or my week, or my year!  If you live close by, I might even bring you some cookies for doing something so nice.  Now that's all the favors I'm going to ask.  For now.

I'd like to thank you all in advance, on behalf of the sickies!  (And sisters of sickies)