Thursday, November 4, 2010

We Are Moving


Over the course of my 27 years I’ve heard a lot of things I’ve hated. Some of which included, (in no particular order), you’re going to need a transplant, you failed math, I’m not happy anymore and the list goes on. I have realized “We are moving,” hurt the most.

I have been lucky enough to grow up with a handful of siblings, all of which I love equally but for different reasons…this tangent is only about my sisters though. Rhonda has always been the Nurturer. She is the one who made sure we were always okay, made sleepovers a blast and she is the one who I can tell anything to without a roll of the eyes. Robin has always been the Independent one. She was the night owl who never left me out, taught me what scrunch socks were all about and tells you exactly what you need to hear when you need to hear it. Shannon has always been my “Buddy.” She is the one who I always grew up hoping to be like, let me double up on her bicycle seat even though it was VERY uncomfortable and can always make me laugh.

Shannon is moving.

Of course hearing this news sent me into a breakdown. What do you mean you’re MOVING? I threw myself a pity party for 24-straight hours (obviously I’m still throwing it, hush) and then told myself it wouldn’t change anything. Thank GOD for technology, right? I already have my first trip planned and she hasn’t even moved yet. Of course with Shannon moving, that means Ben moves and that in itself has been heartbreaking. I’ve got to say it…there is no guarantee I’ll be able to have kids....so though that saddens me, it’s nothing I spend much time thinking about. What I do subconsciously think about is knowing Ben was around meant—all that “motherly” stuff I enjoy doing, I can do with him—at least when he was a 5-minute commute. Now I’m numerous states, and thousands of miles away from him. He is one pretty awesome kid. Ben being here has been the first time the “Aunt” role could be enjoyed, really. Everyone else had their kids when I was too young to really play that part…not Ben though. I think it’s a pretty fair statement to say all of us girls have leached on to Ben. Rhonda and Robin because theirs are either “grown,” or “almost grown,” and they can enjoy having a baby around and me, for the reasons I’ve already shared. Shannon and Matt wanted Ben so much, it made all of us want him for them…and have a bond with him before he ever arrived. Shannon has told me to stop acting like I’ll “never seen them again,” and I get her point BUT…she probably doesn’t understand how much I love her (and Ben), and how much I’m going to miss the three of them.

I’ll leave you with a little story…

Shannon has always been the tough one. We’d get our asses beat and Ron would run to his room, I would start crying before I was ever even slapped (tapped) and Shannon would endure the brunt (mostly because I tattled) and she’d fold her arms and pout on the chair afterwards. She acts tough, and doesn’t cry (I can name less than a handful of times I’ve seen her shed a tear) and yet…in 1995 when I was forced to learn how to give myself insulin shots myself, in order to go on vacation sans my family, she willingly took me to her bedroom, needle in hand (syringe filled with water) and told me to give her a shot so I could see I didn’t hurt her. She smiled, told me how great of a job I did and how it didn’t hurt at all (which consequently made me start giving myself shots that day) and years later told me how much it hurt and how big the bruise was afterwards. It’s safe to say, she’s been a great sister and for silly reasons like that—I’m going to miss her.

Rhonda, Robin and Shannon made me a scrapbook on my 10-years transplant anniversary in which Robin put the sticker: “The great gift of family life is to be intimately acquainted with people you might never even introduce yourself to, had life not done it for you.” I must say, I’m glad life did.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Frustrated.


Cough. Cough. COUGH.

“Welcome to Sociology of Stats, I’m your professor, Dr. Gay”…at least I think that’s what he said. All I could think about as he was speaking was, ‘I feel a cough coming on.’ Holding it in is useless, I just look like I’m convulsing in my chair…so I just cleared my throat a few times, hoping to make it go away but…it didn’t work. I coughed. Then I coughed again. And again. If you ask the few people who I know in class, they probably don’t notice it anymore because they know why I’m coughing…and by the end of the semester, whoever isn’t annoyed wit me DUE TO the coughing (yes, I’ve had people walk up and ask me to stop—or ask me to leave the class, or say other stuff, not that I blame them), they probably wont hear it anymore either.

Yesterday though, for the first time, I noticed my own cough. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very aware I cough…a cough here, a cough there, a little cough, a big cough, a phlegmy cough, a dry cough…you get my drift. Yesterday though, I was VERY aware of it. The classroom was totally quiet and I kept feeling it coming on. I wanted to crawl under my little semi-circle desk and hide. I find it very hard to concentrate to begin with, and it only adds to it when I’m spending all my energy and time doing my best to stay focused on what the Professor is saying but thinking of ways to stop myself from coughing. It’s not like I’m coughing non-stop, it’s just every minute or so I’m coughing once or twice and then I’m okay….and then again, and again. In fact, I’m at work in my quiet office and I just coughed…I don’t really notice it here, unless I think about it.

That all brings me to this…Don’t pass judgments when you don’t know other peoples stories. I try really hard not to cough and not to interrupt other peoples learning, and I certainly don’t want to be a nuisance but I honestly can’t help it…and I refuse to take cough syrup to mask it, every single day of my life so I’m floating around in lala land because I’ve been sippin’ on some sizzurp…but what’s a girl to do?