Calling Dr Whatshisname

Friday night was fun. I was in Wal-Mart picking up some RedBox movies and snacks for the weekend, when I got a call from my Dad. Mom was in the hospital and they hadn’t ruled out a stroke but they hadn’t agreed that that was what happened.



Mom was fine until 3:00 that afternoon and then everything became fuzzy. Literally. Friends of my parents called at the perfect time (right at the start of the “event”) and rushed her to the hospital. She couldn’t remember things. She knew her birthday but not the date or year. She thought her Dad was still alive. She couldn’t remember the last week, including Thanksgiving and our shopping sprees. She knew Dad but other than that, it was a blank. Around 6:00pm, Dad called me and told me what happened. I was a rock at first, I mean, it really didn’t seem real. I was in the ice cream aisle when he said she didn’t remember Thanksgiving or all the shopping we did. That’s when I sat down in the ice cream aisle. I lost it a little bit then. But when my dad started to cry a bit, I stood up and walked out of Wal-Mart and got in the car. He stressed to me that I didn’t need to come over; wait until morning. I told him that I was going to stop at home, grab some things and then drive over; I ignored his comments about waiting until morning. Like I was going to let my Mom be in the hospital without me being there to make sure she was taken care of. You must be joking.



I talked to my brother on the way over to Topeka and sobered him up real quick. My brother isn’t close to my parents. Never has been really. But I think this scared him a little bit and I’m hoping that it was for the better. He blames my parents for things that they really didn’t know they were doing nor had no control over. I forgave my parents years ago because they did what they could at the time. Now, they would be different parents; as they are. But my brother holds grudges. Plus, he’s a guy. Guy’s don’t keep touch with their parents as much as women. I think both Mom and Dad realize that. They still wish he would call more often.



I stayed in Topeka through Saturday late night and then came home. It was nice to sleep in my own bed. My plan was to go back to Topeka on Sunday and make sure she gets home OK. She wasn’t released until 3:00 on Sunday and wanted to just go home and either take a nap or just go to bed. I think I would have been in the way if I had gone over. But I still felt bad that I couldn’t be there for her. But I know Dad did a good job!



My mother is 64 and way too young to have a stroke. Thankfully, it was not a stroke. It might have been a TIA but they really aren’t sure what happened. She had high blood pressure; extremely high, so they think it was because of that. And the number one symptom of a stroke is high blood pressure. This could happen again and worse.  She is going to have to start taking high blood pressure meds (high cholesterol too) and hope that it keeps the pressure down enough that she doesn’t have another “event”. They are going to buy a treadmill to help both of them lose weight. But my mother still can’t remember some things. She has no memory of Friday at all. But she seems OK with that; the alternative is much worse.



My parents don’t take medication; other then the occasional antibiotic they pick up at the Walgreen’s pharmacy nurse on duty for their bronchitis. My dad hasn’t been to a doctor since 1986. And he’s proud of that fact. He will never go to the doctor on his own; I’m thinking about dosing him with a couple of my meds just to get his ass in a gurney and poked by a doctor. I honestly thought it would be him that would have the first issue that needed medical attention. Not that I want to bring harm to either of my parents but it scares me how lazy they are with their health.



I talk to my mom on a daily basis. We talk “officially” twice a week; every Wednesday night and Sunday night, on Skype. But if I don’t actually talk talk to her, we email back and forth daily. It’s me doing most of the calling because I’m bored or something has happened and I need her advice. Other times, I just want to talk to her. And sometimes….she talks me off the ledge; sometimes literally. She is my best friend. There are some things I don’t talk to her about. But for the most part, my mom knows everything about me. I’m not embarrassed by my mom (well, sometimes I am) and I like to tell people how close we are. It makes me proud to tell them what we do, say and feel about each other. And the thought of losing my mom made me go weak. Who would love me like she does? What would I do when I had a question about sewing something and tell her to go get her computer so I could show her what I’m talking about? Where would I get the random gift in the mail or email that makes me laugh? When would someone hug me hard even though they know it bothers me? Who would do those things for me? My mother is the only one that I know of that would. And she is a great mother.





So, Mom…..please take your pills. Please go to doctor’s appointments. And please live for another 100 years because I’m not sure what I would do if you weren’t here to take care of me…even as old as I am, I need my Mommy.

Day 25 → The reason you believe you’re still alive today.

This technically should be done on day 25 but I decided to quit doing the last 10 so you're getting the 2 or so that I still wanted to write about.

The reason I believe I am alive today is because of Milo and God.  At the time I would not have said God but looking back, it was always God that kept me alive when I so desperately wanted to be dead.

I know I've talked on here about my bipolar and how it affected me in my 23rd year.  I was miserable and drinking like a hobo.  I was blacking out when drinking but I was also blacking out when I was sober. It was my brain shutting down.  I would sit for hours on my couch and be surprised when I came to that 5 hours had passed. Poor Milo had to go to the bathroom but I was unresponsive.  This was the black period of my life.  If I could describe to you what depth of blackness it was, it wouldn't be enough to give you the idea of what I was experiencing. I just floated in darkness. There was no hope or end in sight. I just existed.

I would not sleep for days. I lived in Independence Missouri at that time and Independence is not known for being a safe place to be out at night, in certain areas. I lived in those areas.  But I would be walking Milo in the middle of the night; places I had no idea where I was. I would come to from a black out and it would be 3 in the morning and I didn't know where I was or how I had gotten there.  Luckily I have a good sense of direction and I ultimately would get us home. Might take me an hour but I would get there.  I can just imagine how tired Milo was after those episodes.

And red rages, God I was so angry. I didn't know at what or how to handle it but I would lash out at everything. Especially Milo.  That dog was put in my life to save it. I do not doubt that.  But the way I treated him was inexcusable. And I will do my part to make that up to him.  I will never forgive myself for it but he has.  He never shied away from me, cringing. He would sit there for a moment and then come over and put his head in my hand and just stand there til I calmed down. The dog was what I needed at the time.  Just writing this has brought back memories and I'm crying over the pain I put him through. I love that dog so much...

But it got hard to breathe. I was having a hard time leaving my apartment. I would call sick into work.  It was getting black all the time.

So I did what I had thought about my whole life. I took a bunch of pills.  What happened next is only what my neighbor told me.  But Milo went crazy. He was barking and scratching at the door.  She said she waited about an hour before she knocked on my door and when I didn't answer, she thought something might be wrong. Milo was going crazy still.  She called the complex and they brought the key over and, well...you can imagine.  Milo knew something was wrong and tried to help; that is the only thing I can think of.  Maybe he really needed to go outside or something but deep down in my heart, I think he saved me.  Milo and God saved me....

I went to the hospital; I'm not smart enough to actually take pills that would have done damage.  But they kept me under observation.  I called my Mom to tell her that they wanted to admit me to the phsyc ward. She thought I would be fine without going into the hospital and in her defense, they didn't understand the despair I was in at that time.  How black my life had gone.  But I wonder what my life would be life if I had gone in...would I have been more stable between 23 and 33?  I'll never know.

Shortly after that, my parents came to Independence (about 2 1/2 hours away from them) and brought me back to their house, where I stayed for awhile and then put the whole thing behind me and pretended nothing happened...until 2007...that's another story.

But Milo is still around.  He's 15 and he is still the love of my life.  He loves me so much, more then I deserve.  He has never cringed from me.  He will do whatever it takes to get in my lap and just lay there. And I will hurt so much when he is gone.  He is the only thing I have ever felt unhinged love for.  I love people in my life but I love Milo like no one else.  It will be a very very sad day in my life but I know he goes on.  I have to believe that God wants him as much as I want him.  And, some day, I get to be with the man of my dreams forever.