MAMA DON'T LET YOUR BABY GROW UP TO BE A CHEMIST....

One thing my parents ALWAYS stressed was that I had to have a career that would give medical insurance, and that I would have to find a job that I could at least pay for my medication.  Now, this is an interesting way to grow up.  I was always very attracted to creative writing. Even when I was my daughters age I had a wild imagination and would create stories.  My mother even saved the stories I wrote in 1st grade. I can remember going to one of my creative writing professors for a recommendation. He was very disappointed that it wasn't for a master's in creative writing.  I could tell a story, I think it came from my dad.  He could tell incredible stories.  I had an incredible life.  Kidney transplant, crazy family, I always had great writing material. So,  I did a double major:  creative writing and chemistry and had great friends that would look over my stories for grammar and spelling mistakes.  But, the one thing I remember is my mother telling me that creative writing was a hobby and I would never be able to afford my medications with a MFA degree.  Of course to this day the I think about how my life may have been different if I didn't have to pay for my medical insurance.  Now, I know Obamacare is a major issue right now, but heck, we are one of the only places that I feel don't take care of our people.  I mean all of Europe you have medical and an education.  I watched SICKO and cried.  I thought, wow, my life would have been so much different if I had grown up in Europe with medical care.  I can remember my dad saying that he could never start a company on his own because he had to pay for my medical insurance.  My husband now says the same thing.  That is one reason I LOVED BOSTON.  In MA insurance companies cannot deny you.  It is great.  I love it.  GA is a different story and I am sure they are going to fight Obamacare until the end.  But, hey--I will never be denied insurance again.  It is a sense of freedom that I cannot explain.

 
At first I thought I would become a doctor.  I would be a doctor and help people.  Then I realized that the majority of the people out there are nuts and probably would not take their medicine and that would just frustrate me.  So I went into chemistry. I had glorious aspirations, just like any other chemist of finding a drug that would help or cure cancer or the ultimate transplant drug.  Well, I worked for about 8 years in chemistry and all the dreams were ruined.  One thing that was difficult was the fact that there was all men in the industry.  For four years I worked at a small biotech in San Diego where I was the only women out of 24 men.  Then it was the foreign men.  They have their own ideas about women.  And then there was the overgrown Mormon who lived with his mother that grabbed me in a fight!  Yes, it was so nice to work in chemistry.  I would just focus on my work, and watch the men get raises. I always thought it was one place that the women's movement never seem to have gotten too.    But, the worst part was the skin cancer.  It started about a year after I started working.  I thought it was a wort, or a sore that won't go away.  It was basil or squamous skin cancer.  And little by little my fingers and hands would be cut up and the cancer would "be gone."  It never really has had been that way.  It has been 10 years since I have worked in a lab and I still have this problem.  Of course the main reason behind the skin cancer was the fact that I was immune suppressed for so many years of my life.  In fact, it is probably the major reason.  But just Tuesday, as I spent all day at the doctors office getting MOH's and coming out with a stitches in my arm, and two skin grafts on my middle finger, I thought just maybe I should have gone into creative writing.

IN-LAWS

I know everyone has in-laws that are married, or is an in-law, and I too will probably become an in-law, but let me tell you---I don't know how I got the set I did.  It is horrible.  I can't say I hate them, that is too strong of a word, but I can say that if I never saw them again, I would be so, so happy.

Let me give you some background.  My husband grew up in a Catholic Family, went to Catholic School and after awhile his mother was driven to becoming super over the deep end Catholic.
Side note:  It was my husband's brother who drove her off the deep end--he dated his best friends mother and broke up the marriage.  Anyway, I always knew I was not going to be the best fit for this family.  I was NOT Catholic.  When we first dated, it was--"she was not Catholic."  Then once she found out that I could not have children, it was horrible!  I then got comments like--"I will never get a true child out of her."   "I will never have a grandchild from my BOYS."    The peace of resistance was the comment they made when I was saying my brother was a start basketball player.  He is 6'7".  They said,  "What happened to you?"  I happily said--"I'm tall!  Kidney disease stunts your growth.  The doctors where always running test to see why I was so tall!"  Their response:  "You use kidney failure for an excuse for everything."

Well, needless to say  I married my husband and didn't see much of my in-laws. (They still don't like the fact that I kept my last name.  I know, rebel, but I wasn't Mrs. M-s-n.  Believe me.  I wanted no part of that!  Plus, I had publications in the line of work I was in, and didn't want to give that up!)   We would see them maybe once a year.  It was for 3-4 days.  It was manageable!  Well, we adopted K.  I thought just maybe they would be nice grandparents.  I thought just maybe they would be the grandparents I never had.  I thought they would love K, just as much as they loved the 6 grandchildren from their daughters.  Well, not surprising, they came and visited once and after that it was a year later, etc.  We would maybe see them, once a year.  We would have to buy them tickets to come and see her.  They never call her on the phone, they never really made any effort.   Well, this was okay.  I accepted it.  She really didn't know them, she was young.

Fast forward to moving to ATL.  They live 3 hours away now.  Now, you must think, this is great, they must visit often, come to her plays and choir concerts etc.  What I see all Southern Grandparents do.  Ha!  HA! HA!  No, in fact, it is worst.  Yes, worst.  The first year we were here, they expected her to act like they had been in her life for years. The perfect grandparents.  Like they are to the 6 up in WI.  She was like--I don't know you.  I'm not going to run into your arms.  I don't blame her.  Then "grandma" would spend all summer up in WI.  So, K didn't really get to see her.  Now, it is just causing problems in our marriage.  My husband, of course, loves his parents.  I don't blame him.  I can't stand his parents.  They started to make more comments.  This time it is directed towards K.

I was showing "grandma" K's 10 year old pictures that I had taken.  They are beautiful.  She turns to me and says "Too bad, her biological mother can't see her."Okay, I know, some of you may think I am too sensitive.  But, lady, give me a break.  K is my daughter, and has been for 8 years.  Why on earth would this come to your mind?  Why would you say something like this?  Why won't you say something like--"Too bad your mother and father aren't here to see her grow-up."  I mean does she say to her daughters--"Too bad the biological father can't see the child?"  (By the way--all the other grandchildren born out of wedlock.)---NO!  NO!  She doesn't say this.

Well, thank God, K didn't hear this.  (She know that she is adopted, but really hasn't expressed any interest besides the country itself.  We are very open about it.)  But, I was thinking.  Does "grandma" still feel like she is not part of our family?  Yes.  It is so sad to me.  Well, I told my husband,  he needed to talk to her.  He does, very reluctantly.  Thanksgiving comes around, and they come for the day.  I was all ready in the dog house because I wasn't fixing a turkey, (I ran in my first 5K since my transplant instead!)  They show up and watch football.  K tries to engage them in a game.  They would rather watch football.  The Green Bay Packers weren't even playing.  That was the day.  Normally, I won't say anything, but she usually asks me to help her "buy" K's Christmas present.  She didn't this year.  I ask my husband.  He says she is sending gift cards instead.  Okay.  A week later, a check made out to my husband arrives.  Yes, to my husband. In the same card that was given last year.  I'm insulted.  I don't know why, pent up anger.  They can't even make an effort to buy one little thing for her?  They can't even ask me to help them buy it on-line?  NO!

This is not the worst of it--I know, some effort would have been nice on her part, but it isn't likely when it comes to K.  K is realizing it.  She knows now.  She sees how the others are treated.  Pictures all over the house of them, one tiny one of K, cookies made for them, trips to WI to visit and take care of them. She is sad.  I don't blame her, and tell her, I wanted so much more from them.  She says she misses Grandpapa.  I agree.  I do too.

Still--my husband cashes the check.  He goes and buys what I got him for Christmas.  I am pissed!  Not only was the check, made out to him, un-personal, but he goes out and buys what I got him for Christmas.  He doesn't understand why I am so upset.  Finally, I am like, your parents, I can't stand them.  Why can't a women who doesn't work, just go on the internet or buy some gift cards at the supermarket?  WHY ARE YOU BUYING THINGS BEFORE CHRISTMAS?  I ended telling him, I bought you the exact same things and took them back.  Yes, as you can see, the in-laws are causing conflict in our marriage.  A fight over a check.  UGH. He can't believe I am so upset about all this.    I'm over them.  If I see them soon it will be too soon!  I want to go back to my once of year visits!

MOMMY!

It is hard to believe that today has been 13 years since I have heard your guidance, laugh, and encouragement.  I think of you everyday.  I so wish you could have met Klaire.  I know you would have been the world's best grandma.  I miss you so so much Mom.   I miss you everyday.    I love you.  I hope you and Dad are out having fun and you have a bridge game everyday!

LUCY

Lucy

Lucy--A very bright spot in our home!  She came home the weekend before Halloween and has made Atlanta, almost bearable.  At least she has put me in a better mood.  We got her as a very tiny doggy, and K got to pick her out of the other 4 girls.  She had the best tail and was looking very intently at the breeder when she stood at the door.  I knew she was the one!  She is perfect.  Okay--she has had a few accidents in the house, but within a week she was ringing a bell to go downstairs to the back door.  Plus, she loves attention and to cuddle.  Right now as I type this, she is lying by the firer.  She is a bright, loving dog, everything K and I dreamed about!

K and Phoenix in Boston

Now, before I get all these comments about how I should have gone and saved a pound puppy, let me tell you---did that twice in Atlanta.  Seriously, twice.  I know, great for attachment issues, but I never in 100 years thought a dog could make you depressed.  I'm not kidding.  Let me start by saying we had the most wonderful dog that we got from a no kill shelter in San Diego over 10 years ago.  Phoenix.  He was perfect.  He would play with K, seek attention from us, lay on his bed, bark at the right people.   When we got him he was 2 years old.  He traveled around the United States with us from San Diego to Texas to Boston to Texas back to Boston. Unfortunately, he died in Boston about 2 years ago.  Since then we have promised to get K another dog.  Since K is an only child I often think of that Norman Rockwell painting where the husband comes home and yells at the wife and the wife yells at the kids and the kids yell at the dog.  That chain was broken.  K needed someone to love, take care of, a friend.  Phoenix was gone.
So when we first moved to Atlanta, a little over a year ago, we went to the pound.  We picked up a small puppy that was suppose to be a German Shepard mix.  Let me tell you---horrible!    I returned it two days later.  The next one we decided to go through rescue groups.  Talk about annoying.  You had to have a home visit, they called references, I thought I was adopting again.  It was ridiculous. Literally--RIDICULOUS!  But, after going to several pounds in the city and only seeing pit bull mixes (Yes, I know they can be nice, but they scare me), we visited one of the groups I was finally cleared for.  We picked out a dog and named him Adikus.  He was suppose to be about 2. He was more like 6 or 7.  He made me depressed.  We had him for about 8 months and finally I told me husband we had to take him back.  He was scared of everything.  He would lay in his bed all day.  He would not play.  He could not be house trained.  So everyday, I would  be home alone with him and it was depressing.  I can't tell you how happy I was when we finally returned him.  It was like a weight had been lifted.
I was not going to give up!  I wanted a dog too.  So I searched breeders.  I searched reviews of dogs, I knew that a third time was going to be a charm.  Thank GOD that it was.  Lucy (named after I LOVE LUCY--K's new favorite show) is just what our family needed.

Alone

My Dad's favorite picture of him
with K.

Yesterday, I was watching last weeks episode of Parenthood.  I started to cry.  Not over what everyone I have heard cries over-- adoption, cancer of a love one, or losing a job.  No, I wasn't crying about those things; although I have experienced all those things in life.  I was crying because the husband sat in the waiting room with his whole family supporting him.   He had a support system.  I have none.

October 23, marked the one year anniversary of my father's death and it has been a rough year.  A year that I realized I was alone.  A true orphan.  I don't want to sound dramatic.  Okay, maybe it does, but after you lose the two people you know will always be on your side, you feel incredibly alone.  It is a strange feeling to know that there is nobody that you can call and talk too without judgement.  It is strange to not have anyone to visit or share your excitement about something.  Or worst someone that can be there for guidance and support during a stressful situation.  

My mother died almost 13 years ago this November 29th.   After I lost my mother, I was devastated for several years. She was my best friend, she gave me life, she lost 80lbs to give me her kidney.   I know this sounds strange, but deep down I always thought I could have saved her, like she had saved me. I still have a twinge that I could have.  My mother died suddenly of a pulmonary embolism.  Now, you might think, well, that was sudden, etc, but it wasn't.  For months she suffered with a "sore" under her knee.  She went to over 3 doctors in the small town I grew up in.  She had it injected with cortisone, and was set to have surgery on a "baker's cyst."  It wasn't until the night she woke up and said that she thought she was having a heart attack, rushed to the hospital, and then sent home that she died.  Yes, there are many doctors that are to blame as well.   But, I could have saved her.  See, just a month before she died she had visited me in San Diego.  We had gone out and walked around the day before at a fall festival and the next day her ankle was swollen and black and blue!  I even made the comment that "Mom, this is not right, we should go to the hospital."  I just know, if I would have taken her to the hospital, she would have been saved.  I know it is stupid to say, since we can't go back in time.  A lot of people will say it was "God's Will," but crap, I believe in God like I do Santa Claus.  He is not some puppet master up there controlling our lives. I can remember going to her funeral and writing the eulogy, and everything else.  The church was filled with people, like it was a Christmas service.  Flowers, after flowers arrived at our house, the UPS man even cried when we told him.  My father and I delivered the flowers to an old folks home and my brother and I made a pack that you should send pizza to people, not flowers during a time of grieving.  I can remember being at the house and hearing the garage door open and thinking it must be her, she must just be returning from the store.  But, it wasn't.   Her clothes hung in my father's closet for 5 years.  I use to go and sniff them when I visited.  I stole her perfume and still sometimes spray it on me when I am really sad.  

I went back to work the week after.  A month after I can remember a superior coming to me and saying "Krispy, What is wrong, you are not yourself, your cheerful self anymore?"  I thought, "What the HELL?"  My best friend, my mother died, and you wonder what is wrong. Am I suppose to feel insistently, wonderful in a week?  Month?  Year?   I can remember about  it wasn't until I decided to get K, that I realized I was almost healed.  I could deal with the pain.  I could survive.  That was 5 years later.  

My dad's death was much different.  He battled cancer for 10 years, he would get sick and then better, but finally it made his body a skeleton, and he was not the strong man I knew.  It was different, he got to meet K.  He had moved on with his life, the only way he knew (another post), but I still could call him up and he would help me.  Solve everything or try.  Loved me.  I was so sick myself when he died I wondered if soon I would join him.  I wonder if I really did get time to grieve for him.  His death was different.  I got to say goodbye in a letter, I got to tell him goodbye over the phone, I knew he loved me, he said it.  I still listen to some of his voicemails.  

I often think of them.  

But, it wasn't until I was watching Parenthood that I realized why I missed them so much.  I want to tell them so much about K, about the doctors here, but nothing makes them miss them more as when you lay in a hospital bed, all alone.  Wanting someone just to sit by you.  Just to be there on your side.  Yes, that is so lonely.  It tells you that yes, you are alone.  I hate that feeling.  Not only was I sitting there alone, I had new doctors, a new town, no friends.  I feel the same way and it has almost been a year.  A very tough year.  But, I still have the memories.  Happy memories and know they are angels.

As I look at this picture I smile.  It was my father's favorite.  It reminds me that he always has my back, and now will have K's too.  It makes me think that wherever K walks an angel will walk behind her, guiding her, helping her, pushing her, like he did me. 

Georgia on my Mind

Georgia--
I have a love/hate relationship with you.

I hate the fact that my father never saw where I lived here.  I hate the fact that I am so close to my in-laws.  I hate the fact your medical system is very, very, very poor. I hate the fact that nobody can speak proper English.   I hate the fact that if I look out my window, I see 5 town homes, and if I look out the other side, I see a row of 13.  Georgia, I hate the fact that your school system sucks.  I hate the fact that there is racial tension.  I hate the fact that there is class tension.  I hate the traffic.  I hate the weather.  Just about everything about you, from your history, to the fact you are one of the dirtiest, crime ridden, cities in the US.  I HATE LIVING HERE.

But, I love that yesterday you were able to put it all in perspective for me.  As I sat outside the library while my daughter was in her book club.  For if I was not in Georgia, I would have not met the man who also had a son in the book club.  As we talked about kids books,  I found out, his wife had been dead for 2.5 years.  Of cancer.  And as tears welled in his eyes, I realized, it could have been me.  I could have died and not seen my daughter turn 10.  Georgia, thank you for showing me, that yes, I am happy to be alive and watch my daughter grow.