Dear Loved One,

Happy Birthday. You would have been 26 today. Last month was the 9th anniversary, and I thought of you that entire day. I think of you often, and how unfair it was that your family had to lose you so young, to lose you at all. You were the closest thing I ever had to a big brother, and the closest thing I had to a normal brother. The thing is, you treated me like I was your little sister, and not just your little sister's friend (at least it seemed that way to me). I often think back to your family's trip that I was invited on, and you giving me your sweater because I was cold. Such a simple gesture, but sincere and kindhearted...enough that I can recall it now just shy of 10 years later. That was your essence: sincere, kindhearted, loving. Though you were only in my life for a short period of time, you made a huge impact in it, and the loss of you changed they way I looked at the world, how I looked at life.

Even though I haven't been to see you in years, it's not that I don't think about you, and miss you. It's merely that after you were gone, I hurt for so long, not just because you were gone....but your family was like my "other" family, and it hurt to see them hurt.

Please forgive me for not visiting more often, and enjoy this day that should be celebrated for you. You may no longer be here in body, but in reverent remembrance we can honor you, because we love you and miss you.

Always & Forever

Egregious Behavior

Matt & I both enjoy people-watching in public outings. Sometimes we sit at at a restraunt and say only a few words to each other during dinner, looking like an old married couple, but really we are just people-watching (or watching the game on the TV). Because seriously, after how long we've known each other, we sometimes just don't have much to talk about that doesn't revolve around work. (...maybe we are doing things in reverse, and in our golden years we will be chatting each other's ears off...). Anyway, this situation works for us, both being generally quite people.

Saturday we met up with a bunch of his work friends at Junior's, a bar downtown. Originally one of them was supposed to be set up on a "meet-&-greet-a-potential-love-interest", but the "love interest" didn't show. It worked out better that way. The pressure was off, and the drinking and pool playing was no longer going to be interrupted by the getting to know you games (so often pursued when two people are being set up by a third party).

We dominated the back part of the room, taking over the one and only pool table. Matt played most of the night, taking turns with the two other players, while the rest of us watched, drank, and chatted away. I didn't feel like playing pool, so I mostly drank and watched everyone else. There were a few people that it was my first time meeting, and so I was in observatory mode.

An hour into the festivities, the guy (we'll call him John) who was supposed to bring the "love interest", had another group of friends show up (2 girls, 1 guy). We didn't know them, and they didn't seem to be interested in meeting the rest of us (not all that shocking as I'll explain). The 4 of them were standing around talking, and I couldn't help but watch the group, as the blatant behaviors started to emerge. Oh, I'm sure the girls were behaving well with their words...I couldn't tell you for sure, as they were on the other side of the room where I couldn't hear. BUT I could see them. The poor guy they came with, desperately tried not to be left out of the conversation. However the girls' interest was all on John, and obviously so. They were looking straight at him, talking with him, only turning to the other guy when ab-so-lute-ly necessary. I watched one of the girls inparticular, and was very amused by her body language. She was leaning into the conversation she was having with John...head tilted down, but looking up at him smiling...mimicking his movements...repeatedly putting her hair behind her ear, or playing with it. All the classic signs of flirting that send the signal I'm totally into you, please, please, please notice!!! And John? He had the smile on, and the laid back posture not to give too much away up front (but really portrays the I'm not going to make it obvious that I'd go for you, but I totally would signal).

I couldn't help but laugh on the inside, and a little out loud, and pull Matt over to watch.

I laughed because it was so completely obvious. I laughed because I have been there, and was hoping I wasn't that obvious. I laughed because I'll never have to go through that every weekend, ever again, and I'm so very glad.

Now all I have to do is empty the sink trap

In the months I spent planning the wedding, I spent a lot of time on a Craigslist wedding forum. I got to know a lot of the girls on there pretty well (as well as you can know people who hang out in forums using pseudonym handles-which what you call screen names in forums). We discussed ideas, helped each other find deals, and sometimes discussed our grievances about our FHs (future husbands). It was there I was taught a very important lesson about relationships, that has saved me some aggrivation and frustration (hopefully making me a better spouse, even if just a little).

There was a day recently that I arrived home, and Matt had taken the initiative to clear our coffee/dining table off. Yes, it is our dining table too. If you've been to our apartment you know it wasn't built to have 2 people co-habitate, and for sure not to have space for a real table. (have you seen our one-butt kitchen, with 2 sq feet of counter space and oddly short cupboards? As in only one butt can fit in there at a time it's so tiny...). It looked nice and clean, and the front room was all picked up as well. My first thought was "and you didn't vacuum the floor because???". But I caught myself and thought back to this story told by one of the girls in the forum.

Jane noticed a pattern when Jack (her FH) did the dishes. He would wash them, dry them, even put them away...clean off the counters....but forget to empty the sink trap. She would get mad and tell him, it wasn't really cleaning up the kitchen if he didn't finish the job. She was frustrated, because no matter how many times she told him to please empty the trap, he never did. She realized after a few months that getting upset about it wasn't getting her anywhere. And, afterall, she felt bad because he was doing something nice by giving her a clean kitchen to come home to after her 10-12 hour work days. She realized he was just trying to make life easier for her, because she worked so much more than him. She decided to change her view to the proverbial glass is half full. The next time she came home to clean dishes and a dirty sink trap, she thought, "Sweet, now all I have to do is empty the sink trap!".


Since I was told that story I've tried to keep it a mantra in the back of my mind. So the night I came home to a clean table....I caught myself before I chastised him for not vacuuming, as my second thought immediately following was "now all I have to do is empty the sink trap". Because, after all, Matt was just trying to make my day easier knowing I was exhausted from being back at work. (I think I did say I'd vacuum, but haven't gotten to it yet...because of the combination of my laziness and tax return filing frying my brain).

I'm not perfect, and this doesn't happen every time, but I hope that this baby step is something that becomes a habit.

Sometimes family does know you best

During my recovery I slept a lot, and by a lot, I mean the first week or so I was awake at most 4 hours in a day. Granted, the sleep was pain and drug induced, and wasn't even close to refreshing.

For those not close to me, I'll let you know I am not a good sleeper. I have a very difficult time falling asleep, averaging over an hour to fall asleep, on a good night 6 hours of sleep, and run for the hills if you wake me up (because you will encounter my rage for waking me before I'm ready).... and if prematurely woken in the night, I'm usually done for and cannot fall back asleep. (Disclaimer: These rules did not apply when I was severely depressed, when I could fall asleep in an instant and sleep through anything short of a fire alarm. But being depressed wasn't exactly worth that benefit.)

Prior to the surgery I was extremely pleased with my success on a better sleep schedule, and felt like the world wasn't working against me. Much to the dismay of my loving husband, the 2+ weeks off work has royally screwed up any success I had made with my sleep schedule in the last 2.5 years we've lived together. I'm back to not falling asleep for at least 1.5 hours, and also now wake for no reason every 3.5-4 hours after falling asleep. Of course, that leaves me extremely tired while at work, and sometimes wondering if I've fallen asleep with my eyes open, sitting at my desk.

My lack of sleep, current and past, has been a source of contention in our relationship, mostly from me. As of right now, Matt is the only other person living with me, so he bears the burden if he wakes me up. He also hits the mattress and is out within 5, which makes me despise him sometimes, only because I'm jealous.

It's not that I'm not tired (I'm extremely exhausted), but it's like my brain doesn't shut off. Oh, and don't get me wrong I love sleep...if I get into a good sleep I will sleep for days if you let me. In my life I've tried everything to help: chamomile, music, sleeping pills, relaxing back scratches, etc. The emotional stress endured because of this is the excruciating part. I want want want, to fall asleep, so it feels like something is wrong with me. I don't know that I will ever overcome this, and it's extremely frustrating. I thought after the surgery, maybe my better breathing would help the sleep process, but it hasn't so far.

This leads me to the first few weeks my sister had her new baby. She said regarding the sleepless nights and constant waking for feedings and changes "I don't think Brianna will handle having a baby very well" (or something along those lines). I think she's right, so very, very right.

Sometimes your family are the ones who know you best :)

Just lowlights, but hey, I'm alive

So last Thursday (the 8th), I had my surgeries, and well, I survived. It didn't go as well as planned. For those who weren't well informed by myself (sorry), I had a tonsillectomy, a deviated septum repaired and cysts removed from my sinuses. So yes, that's 3 procedures done at one time. Well, I guess I'm a bleeder, so when I woke up the first time from the surgery I was bleeding still. All I remember is waking up coughing and choking and the anaesthesiologist getting mad at me for doing so...and thinking I can't really help it, I'm sorry!! My ENT was brought into post-op to look at me and they took me back into surgery to "clean up the bleeders". I remember being taken back in, and begging them to tell Matt where I was.

Waking up the second time was much more gruesome. Not only did the second round of anaesthetics within 6 hours make me very ill, I had swallowed a lot of my own blood after the first waking. (no wonder he was mad at me). I was puking up blood like it was nobody's business and had really high blood pressure. I had to really beg them to bring in Matt (and my Mom who was now in the waiting room). I think they finally gave in, hoping their presence would lower my blood pressure. It didn't, but I felt better having them there. I really don't remember much else besides my poor Husband and Mother trading off catching the blood in those little bean-shaped trays they give you for vomiting. They even gave me anti-nausea meds through my IV, but combined with my blood pressure, they admitted me overnight. (so I'm told...I only remember that I kept complaining about throwing up blood and the blood pressure cuff being way too tight, then being wheeled down a really long hallway into a room).

My Mom stayed overnight with me (as she is experienced with sleeping in hospitals), so Matt could go home and get some rest, since he'd be dealing with me for the next week. The night was rough, and painful, and IVs really are a pain! Every time I needed to get up to go to the bathroom I had to page the nurse to become unhooked from everything and drag the IV in there.

The next day I went home (finally!). And the next several days were lots of sleeping and trying to keep drinking liquids, even though my throat felt like someone took a sander to it, and swallowing felt like something I'd never done before. Monday's check-up was good at the doc's, even had an egg mcmuffin for brunch...then came Tuesday (shudders). Matt had to go back to work and the morning started okay with a smoothie, pills and water....but midway through the day I got very nauseated, and threw up. I was miserable and after a few hours of intense pain I gave in an called Matt to come home. EVERYYTHING I got in me, came back up that day/night and we had to call the doctor who called in and anti-nausea suppository (yes folks, grown ups have to use them too!) at midnight. It helped knock me out and the next day I was better.

The last few days have been painful as the scabs in my throat are falling off, but I've been doing okay. Lots of painkillers and sleeping. I went in again today and the doctor cleaned a lot of the gunk out of my nose, so I can breathe through it finally, but talking is very difficult. I have lost my sense of taste, but he assures me it will return soon, now that I can breathe through my nose. Let's hope so! I really like the taste of food, and would hope that I never lose it permanently!

I must say that I married a very patient and caring man who has taken very good care of me this last week plus! Thank you! I love you!

And to my Mom: I'm glad you were there to help me and Matt out with settling me in. Thank you! I love you!

To both: thank you for catching the blood I puked up, only true loved ones (or paid nurses) would put up with such a gruesome task and I will love you guys for your compassion in my time of complete need :)

I must go for now, as the pain killer is wearing off and the new one I will take will subsequently knock me out for the next hour at least! But I just wanted to give the details and update in case you don't hear it through the grapevine :)

Acting Brave

Today we gathered with my family for breakfast at the Belgian Waffle in Midvale. Dakota was her charming self & Clinton a little bit cranky, both quite impatient for food. We ordered Clinton their "Garbage Hash" and he loved it (even though it had peppers and mushrooms in it). It's surprising the things he eats now. On Christmas Eve I tried feeding him walnuts, which he loved and ate without complaint! At the care center they feed him prunes, and he loves them. Sometimes I forget, just like I grew up into liking certain things, so does he.

After breakfast, Matt and I headed downtown to go see Body Worlds 3. It was crowded, but having the right connections (i.e. a Mom who works there) got us through all the lines quicker. Matt had wanted to go for months now, but I had been really hesitant to go. The whole idea that these bodies were real people, creeped me out and made me very squeamish just thinking about it. But I braved up, like a real grown up would do, and we went to the exhibit.

I will tell you that it was really awe inspiring, but I still couldn't keep by stomach from twisting or shake the heeby-jeebies feeling from my back. I could handle the individual body parts just fine, it was the whole bodies posed that freaked me out, even once I was in there, but I acted brave and practiced my breathing methods so I didn't have an anxiety attack. The embryo room was amazing, but very sad (and they do state that to the best of their knowledge, none of them were ones that could be saved). I will say, the displays of all the arterial systems were the coolest things I ever saw. They preserve the arterial system first then dissolve the surrounding organs and/or tissue, and they end up with a complete map of the arterial system from that area. It's amazing how many blood vessels the human body has, and that they are in almost every space of the body.

So, I acted brave and got through it (but I won't lie and say I wasn't unabashedly glad to be out of there)!

I wonder how often parents must have to act brave to make their children feel at ease, when really they are scared or squeamish of something so trivial and silly like this?

I can't really act surprised...can I?!?!?

This year for New Year's Eve (as most years), we stayed in and celebrated in the warmth of our own house, watching the various countdown shows, and doing puzzles....because, well, we are lame like that...but we're okay with it. This year, I was actually enticed to go party, but with my surgery next week, I can't really risk getting sick.

With a minute left in 2008, we went out front on our porch, tried to decide what to follow- our cell phone clocks or the TV-and ended up counting down with the TV. We toasted, I with my champagne and Matt with his beer; then we kissed.

We had some spraklers to celebrate with (the heavy duty kind). I couldn't get mine to light and was holding the lighter quite close, so when it did light the flash burn took a quarter-sized layer of skin off..not bad, but painful. So there you have it, a minute into 2009 and my accident-prone self was injured! I can't really act surprised can I?!?!?