One will never be able to say that I don't or can't laugh at myself. Do I feel a little foolish? Why yes, yes I do. But, it happened, so I'll share it, and laugh if you must, but also remember that the fear is real, very real.
Northeast Ohio is under attack. We have been invaded by the 17-year emergence of the ugliest bug you'd ever hope to see. It's a great big, 2 inches or bigger, ugly, flying Cicada. And I hate them. And I fear them. Yes, I have an irrational phobia of those ugly gross creatures. In 17 years, I hope to either be dead or on an extended vacation until they go back to where they came from, which is probably hell, I'm not even kidding. I can't even begin to explain to you how much I detest these horrible insects.
They invaded our neighborhood a couple of weeks ago. Stupid bugs. They are so loud that it sounds like a siren going off. Ugg, I hate that noise! They are everywhere. In the trees, in the grass, flying through the air, darting in and out of every single place, everywhere you look. It's absolutely horrific.
I've been asking my husband to walk our dog during their most active times, which is somewhere between the hours of 7:00 am to sundown when it cools off. Thankfully he's been available and willing since he recognizes that my fear is real. I'm not saying he understands it, he himself doesn't really have any true phobias. Me on the other hand, well, let's just say I make up for the both of us.
Today, my husband had to have a wisdom tooth removed. He took our pup out for her morning walk, I drove him to the oral surgeon's office and then back home. I got him all settled in, pain meds were taken, nap ready, and then I cozied in for a time of reading and relaxation. Everything was running like clockwork. Until my dog needed to go potty. Oh no. Not potty. Not outside where the Cicada devils are. No, please, can't you just hold it? Please? Wake up husband, I need you!
Well, I put her collar and leash on and out we went. The ugly bugs were doing their thing--flying, darting, making their stupid loud noise. All the while, I am ducking, bobbing and weaving, trying my hardest to get away from them. Hurry up puppy--do your thing!
I quickly ran inside, shut the door and whew! I made it. Kind of. As I was standing at the kitchen sink, I heard something. At my ear. So I swiped at the sound but still felt strange. Like something was there. So, I walked into the half bath and looked into the mirror. And low and behold, wouldn't you know it, one of those blankety, blank stupid Cicadas was on my back!
I'm so glad that my husband was sacked out in his chair, and that no one was visiting us because they would have gotten a show. It's also a very good thing that my shirt had a snap front because that shirt unsnapped and was off of my body so fast--as I ran out of the bathroom screaming and dancing around while ripping that shirt off of me as fast as I could. Once off and laying on the ground, I ran away from it, still shaken and practically (ok, not so practically) yelling and jumping up and down. The dog was barking, my husband sat up and was wondering what in the heck was going on. I couldn't go near the shirt and just keep jumping around yelling for him to get the bug.
He did, he's my hero. As I locked myself in our bedroom, he killed that dumb bug and saved me! In his medicated, drug induced state, he came to my rescue. Thank you, Jesus!
I have now calmed down, my shirt is back on, the dog is sleeping, my husband has had a good nap and all is well with the world. He's feeling better now and has assured me that he will walk our dog as long as those nasty bugs are out there terrorizing the neighborhood. Supposedly they'll be gone in a couple of weeks. I am counting the minutes. I'm not kidding.
Yes, it's been an eventful day around here. I'm still shaking from the cicada attack, but I'll be OK. As for my husband, he'll be OK too. I promise. I'll take really good care of him, keep him medicated and well feed--just as long as he protects me from those horrible Cicadas--I just hate them, I really do!
Yes, go ahead and laugh. He did, and even though I am not laughing, I'll forgive you if you do, it's OK, it really is.
Friday, June 17, 2016
Thursday, June 2, 2016
It's Almost time
In just a few days or maybe a few weeks the time will come when my father takes his last breath. It's hard for me to even process this fact--that we all die. We all return from the place where we came. Dust to dust. Yes, it's so very hard to even contemplate death--for me anyway.
A couple of weeks ago I flew home to California to visit with my parents, and to say goodbye to my father one last time. I was concerned that he wouldn't know who I was, but he did, he knew. When I asked him how many daughters he had, he answered, and when I asked him if he knew who I was, he whispered--number 1 daughter.
It was hard for me. Seeing him in his hospital bed, so frail and weak. I desperately tried to get him to eat something and to drink a little milk or juice--anything to give him some strength. He wanted nothing, he just kept saying that he was in pain, that his back hurt and that he wanted to lie down. The nurses had him sitting up in a wheelchair at that point and he was in so much pain. He begged to be taken back to bed. It was heartbreaking.
Over the course of a week, each day was different. One day he wouldn't talk at all and was only able to make guttural sounds as he tried to communicate his needs, and the next day he would be sitting up and able to speak in 1 to 3-word phrases, I never knew what the day would bring. As painful as it was for me to witness, I believe that it was even more painful for him to watch me in such a mournful state. At one point he asked for a tissue as big tears rolled down his cheeks as he watched me cry. I knew then that I had to get it together, for the sake of my dad, I had to get my emotions in check and be strong for him and my mom.
Each night back at our hotel, I would lay in the arms of my husband and sob. I am so thankful for him and will be forever grateful for his kindness and understanding during this time. He has been my rock, the only one that I can talk to and the only one who understands.
The week went by quickly and once again I was back to my reality, my life, my family. I was able to turn off the thoughts and emotions and go throughout my day. I have been calling my mother daily to keep on top of the health of my dad and each day he grows worse. I live on pins and needles waiting for that dreaded and yet anticipated phone call.
Mostly, my heart breaks for my mom. She is alone now. Her best friend, her husband of 63+ years is no longer able to live with her. She is all by herself. No companion, no partner in crime, no best friend to sit and watch late night TV with. She is alone. I think that is what bothers me the most. Her loss. Not mine. Not my sisters. Not anyone else. Just her. My heart breaks for her.
I know that one day I will see my dad again in heaven. I am a Christian, and so is he. We have that peace, that assurance that we will one day be reunited. We don't live with a fear of death. We look forward to seeing God and being in His presence. It's comforting to us.
It's this time on earth that's a little disconcerting for me. This time of space that's in-between. Death for him, life for me. I know that once I also die, we'll see each other again. However, what about that in-between time? What do we do with that time? What will my mom do? That's what I am most concerned about. How do I comfort her? What do I say? It's so hard not living close to them. I feel so guilty, and yet, isn't this where God moved me?
To say that my family needs, no covets your prayers is an understatement. My mom needs prayer in coping with the impending death of her husband, my father. My sister needs prayer in coping with the care of my mom, and I need prayer in coping with the guilt of not living in California. My father also needs your prayers. Please pray that he goes quickly, and pain-free. Pray that both my parents find peace in God's perfect will. It's almost time.
A couple of weeks ago I flew home to California to visit with my parents, and to say goodbye to my father one last time. I was concerned that he wouldn't know who I was, but he did, he knew. When I asked him how many daughters he had, he answered, and when I asked him if he knew who I was, he whispered--number 1 daughter.
It was hard for me. Seeing him in his hospital bed, so frail and weak. I desperately tried to get him to eat something and to drink a little milk or juice--anything to give him some strength. He wanted nothing, he just kept saying that he was in pain, that his back hurt and that he wanted to lie down. The nurses had him sitting up in a wheelchair at that point and he was in so much pain. He begged to be taken back to bed. It was heartbreaking.
Over the course of a week, each day was different. One day he wouldn't talk at all and was only able to make guttural sounds as he tried to communicate his needs, and the next day he would be sitting up and able to speak in 1 to 3-word phrases, I never knew what the day would bring. As painful as it was for me to witness, I believe that it was even more painful for him to watch me in such a mournful state. At one point he asked for a tissue as big tears rolled down his cheeks as he watched me cry. I knew then that I had to get it together, for the sake of my dad, I had to get my emotions in check and be strong for him and my mom.
Each night back at our hotel, I would lay in the arms of my husband and sob. I am so thankful for him and will be forever grateful for his kindness and understanding during this time. He has been my rock, the only one that I can talk to and the only one who understands.
The week went by quickly and once again I was back to my reality, my life, my family. I was able to turn off the thoughts and emotions and go throughout my day. I have been calling my mother daily to keep on top of the health of my dad and each day he grows worse. I live on pins and needles waiting for that dreaded and yet anticipated phone call.
Mostly, my heart breaks for my mom. She is alone now. Her best friend, her husband of 63+ years is no longer able to live with her. She is all by herself. No companion, no partner in crime, no best friend to sit and watch late night TV with. She is alone. I think that is what bothers me the most. Her loss. Not mine. Not my sisters. Not anyone else. Just her. My heart breaks for her.
I know that one day I will see my dad again in heaven. I am a Christian, and so is he. We have that peace, that assurance that we will one day be reunited. We don't live with a fear of death. We look forward to seeing God and being in His presence. It's comforting to us.
It's this time on earth that's a little disconcerting for me. This time of space that's in-between. Death for him, life for me. I know that once I also die, we'll see each other again. However, what about that in-between time? What do we do with that time? What will my mom do? That's what I am most concerned about. How do I comfort her? What do I say? It's so hard not living close to them. I feel so guilty, and yet, isn't this where God moved me?
To say that my family needs, no covets your prayers is an understatement. My mom needs prayer in coping with the impending death of her husband, my father. My sister needs prayer in coping with the care of my mom, and I need prayer in coping with the guilt of not living in California. My father also needs your prayers. Please pray that he goes quickly, and pain-free. Pray that both my parents find peace in God's perfect will. It's almost time.
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