Dying and Dying (Life and Gray Roots)

Essay and notice of my continued and downright perverse nature to survive...regardless.

Lost and Longing for that day…you know, the one they mean when they say “Back in the day…” and go on to spout some buuulllshit about how much better that day was compared to the one they are currently breathing through….

 

I’m still alive, Biloxi is still hot as the ninth inner circle of hell, dogs continue to grow (70 lbs!), husband has had seven major surgeries since last November (four this year) and my mother is in hospice care. 

Highlights include:  my third and final sibling died alone and no one knew for five days until they realized they hadn’t seen him in a couple of days.  I am the oldest of four and the only survivor.  As he died out of state, while staying with my mother during a brief (six day) crisis, I arranged for his transport to Biloxi, confirmed and authorized his cremation and wrote his obituary--like I did the other two.  Now my mother will be buried with three of her four children.  Most people think that’s pretty damn sad, but she finds comfort in that, so I officially (and immediately!) crossed it off my long list of s**t to worry my brain with.

She rallied, somewhat, is down to 92 pounds, moving slower, but she refuses the take the morphine unless the pain is so bad she can’t breathe.  She has lung cancer, the masses are squeezing her esophagus and she’s a neck breather so breathing is an issue anyway…but she does her breathing treatments and depends on the Ibuprofen and Methocarbomal.  An old friend of hers recently died and very badly.  She also had cancer and pursued treatment, so when there was nothing left to be done, she had already maxed out all viable pain relief during the harrowing treatments and medical personnel could not administer any more without overdosing her.  She is still at the .25 dose initially prescribed when she entered into hospice care and I monitor it when I go to her house and she…ain’t…takin’…it.  Fierce, folks, she is one by God, tough as nails, and FIERCE old broad.  While it may seem like I’m singin’ her praises here, understand that her decision to live with that much pain also means that she is mean as a snake, will smile at one of those Q-tip ol’ church ladies (definition:  a Q-tip is a white haired really, really old lady) when they come to call spouting platitudes and clichés, but when there is no one else around…Dear God in Heaven, I’m sorely pressed to remember she’s a Christian Woman. And sometimes, we don’t have to be alone--she will snap at me and tell me that I am clueless and ignorant and I just need to shut the hell up and do whatever she asked me to…nothing more and certainly nothing less.  When she does that in front of one of her friends that doesn’t know me, I get a twinge of resentment and there have been days that the ole’ pesky eye tic kicks in.  But I get it…she knows that I cannot be alienated, or run off.  She knows that I love her unconditionally and will be there until her final breath and heartbeat in this world.  She knows that my feelings will not change if she cusses me from now until her final heartbeat.  I have always known the truth of myself and she can snap and snarl all…damn…day, I am a good caregiver:  I remain calm under crisis, I have been intimately involved in a lot (A…LOT!) of various and serious medical care for my husband: temporary colostomy, thirteen surgeries with six being abdominal abscesses from defective mesh installed by VA surgeons in 2007, fistulas draining through the open wound from the surgery he just had two months prior, Oh, Dear.  God!  Wound dressing is my special skill and my forte is most any condition that involves gross and nasty, downright gnarly discharges from all orifices. Yup, I got mad skills, ya’ll.

I also just served nine (N.I.N.E.!!) days on a jury for a civil suit.  I was set for that lil va-cay from waiting on people that I do actually love…mostly, and large dogs that are needy and require far too many nose kisses during the day, and well, jus’ all the crap that comes with bein’ (literally) the last man standing.  I am obscenely healthy, with the exception of my Dysthymia (definition:  highly functioning depressive) and I gotta snort salt water to fake the sniffles every two or three months so that I can just lay on the damn couch and not be where I am.  Yup…coping skills I gots, too, folks.

Anyways, the first five days of the trial was mind numbing and sometimes water boarding level dull.  Termites.  Ask.  Me.  Anything.  Got it wrapped up though and I was very disappointed with the immaturity and downright pettiness of several of the women on the jury.  She asked for her (proven) $600,000 in damages to her 1.8 million dollar house and punitive damages.  Of course, because she was a successful woman who took her father’s company with five employees to eighty and a bajillion contracts nationwide, they figured she had the money, she paid that $600,000 in damages accrued over 14 months, didn’t she?  With their tiny minds flashing with misinformed and emotionally illiterate neurons, they kept arguing that they didn’t want to “reward her”, she got through it, didn’t she? Then eyeballed the rest of us with their mouths pursed tighter than a chicken’s a*s, eyes flashing with pseudo-indignity of the nerve…the absolute gall of this woman to ask for more than what she actually put out. 

I started rather calmly explaining the true state of this sad affair as follows:  She has known only success.  College, married a handsome man, birthed three healthy and intelligent children who are involved in sports and academic achievements and of course, her company.  When my props get knocked out from under me--I ain’t got that far to go, doesn’t hurt as bad, gets easier and, quite frankly, routine, to just put on clean drawers and start over the next day.  Her props holdin’ her up were pretty high, so when they got knocked out from under her, it was a long…long way down.  Also, the punitive damages were not solely about her feelings, but “spanking” the company that screwed her so badly.  By hour three, I was quite animated and thoroughly pissed that these small minded, petty women were determined not to “reward” her, and were all “Hey, my life is pretty sucky already--how does it feel, ya rich b***h?”  Thank God, we only needed nine to get a verdict, but it was no where near what I felt that the Defendant needed to pay out and never do what they did to another homeowner.  *sigh*

 

Well, readers, it’s late, I got a few things off my chest and I’m going to try to read and review whenever I can.  Just know…if what’s ailin’ ya is gross…jus’ call me.  You need a warm body to blame for all the ails and trials of life…and death, call me.  I ain’t no martyr, but when you’re good at something, you capitalize on that s**t, right?

Still alive (*sigh*) in Biloxi, Mississippi, where the crawfish season is skimpy this year drivin’ the price of mudbugs up, and the winters just barely pass muster required to be designated as “winter” and I.  Am. 

 

Love to you all, and don’t judge anybody’s decisions until you know what their options were.

 

Miz Carol

Author's Note

So sorry to be gone so long, but I am not really the master of my fate for all the trash talk and swagger I produce....

Reviews

[roarke]

I'm gonna have to lay down now. Nothing I can comment could be construed as anything but impotent understatements, both about the subject and narrative. I'd say Brava... but you'd probably whoop me. CC, you're the real deal.

[Carol Cashes]

Now I gotta ask ya roarke, why would I whoop you? Have you done something I should know about? I'm kidding...
While it seems I have no qualms about "tellin' it" when it comes to my business, I'm actually mistaken for Reserved or Serious by strangers. Anyone seeing me in public or whatever would never guess that I'm a Stepford wife in the outside and Sybil on the inside! it's just easy to open all the doors, here. And I'm writing it, as opposed to face to face which allows me to backspace and delete until I'm okay with well, opening the doors.

[barleygirl]

My memory isn't too good, so I forget people when they disappear from here for awhile. But now that I'm reading you again, I could never forget your writing full of attitude. I'm glad to see you back again, piling it on with your usual fiery approach. You satisfy that itch most of us have to write what we really think, instead of prettying it up. Someday (if I read you enuf) I'm going to write about all the s**t that's happened to me in life that makes me a cynical loner living alone in the boondocks ((((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Paul Bell]

Jesus, Carol, you're an army all by your self. Glad you got it off your chest. Missed your punchy tone about the place. Great that mummy is still kicking your a*s, keeps you alive. Someday you'll look back on all this and think to yourself, how the f**k did I do it. Hope 2019 brings you prosperity. If not, I know a bent accountant who moves money around. Usually other peoples. Keep strong, people rely on you.

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Hello and Welcome Back my dear friend! You are still fine and mad and bat-crazily beautiful, thank God! And you can still write like nobody else can- also thank God... All I can say is Wow-your life has been one drama after another. Your journal entry reads like fiction, but of course it isn’t. That would be too easy, right? So sorry for the loss of your brother- R.I.P. .It’s always an agony, no matter what. Glad to hear your Mom is still with you and giving you a run for your money. Your description of her is crispy on the edges but always so filled with love. You are a good daughter, Miz Carol! And glad to hear you are healthy and have learned to be a stellar wound-care Nurse! Your poor hubby is so lucky to have you by his side through thick and thin. That’s true love for ya! I pray your Mom has less pain and your Hubby has significant healing in the New Year. So happy the Storm Sisters are big and healthy and loving you up daily! And your jury-duty play-by-play reads hilariously. You have gladdened my heart hugely with your presence here today! You had better stay right here too, or else I’m heading to Biloxi to get you! Love you Miz Carol and I wish you and yours a Happy, Healthy, Joyful New Year! Xoxoxoxo!!!