Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Football -

Football season has started again, and I already HATE it.

Okay folks here's the deal - lance lied.
Bottom line - big fat lire actually he is a big fat lire that grins from ear to ear about it.
Yeap, that makes me want to jump up and punch him in the face - color me a grown up (ha!).

So here's the skinny - Rylan has one more week until he is officially off doctors orders, until he has hit his 6 week full recovery period. Which 'should' mean NO tackling in football. Actually this is what WE agreed upon. No tackeling until after 6 weeks.

IF - Rylan decided he wanted to play football again this year, then he could run and work-out with the kids; BUT no hitting until the end of 6 weeks.
*all pretty reasonable if you ask me.*
Well, last night is draft night and equipment night.
Lance tells me I don't really need to show-up; him and Rylan will go.
I think to myself - 'how nice of him.' *now I know better*. Secondly, I didn't really want to go -because I went straight from work to gymnastics w/ Pyper until 6pm.
I decided to stop by football practice, just to check it out.
Mind you I am still in my dress, heels, pearl necklace etc. Which is code for 'freakn miserable' because I still have my work clothes on.
I pull into the football parking lot and it is packed. No parking anywhere - people have parked up in the grass, created their own spots ect. I drive in circles and finally find a spot.
So, Pyper and I arrive ; her in her gymnastics uniform and me in my work attire. To say that we stuck out like a sore thumb would be putting it lightly. What the hell ever - I am use to sticking out a bit.
I find Lance on the sidelines w/ a cig hanging out of his mouth. His mouth is wide open and he is yelling at Rylan to run. I want to punch him in the face, I think 'for gosh sakes leave the darn kid alone'.
I get into Lance's view and his face drops. um, I thought.
I sit and watch the drills, no big deal. I decide I am going to leave, I am tired of being in my work clothes and things look fine. Then the teams switch into a new drill.
The hitting drill. I look at Lance and state ' he cannot do this one, we discussed this.'
He ignores me.
I say it louder ' HE CANNOT DO THIS ONE, go speak to the coach'
He ignores me.
By now they have started the drill and Rylan and this other kids are hitting each other. I feel myself puke a little in my mouth, my face is white, and I have grabbed Lance's shirt. Rylan does the drill then walks to the back of the line, unknowing that I am freaking out. Lance looks at me and smiles. I state 'if he gets hurt and has to have surgery again, I will NEVER forgive you. NEVER. And you lied.'

Rylan finished the practice, he came up for a drink twice - he said he was fine. And Lance smiled the whole time. I envisioned myself wiping the smile off his face then rubbing his face in the grass. *grow-up I know.*

I am so angry. I cannot see straight.
Tonight is another night of football practice, I suspect the same situation.
As you read this you may ask - 'why didn't I just go to the coach myself. Why did I just sit on the sidelines.'
Truth ' I thought Lance had already had the talk with the coach, we had an understanding.'
Secondly, by the time he was hitting I was too sick to move, and ashamed that I even let it happen. I envisioned myself sassing down the field in my work clothes, speaking w/ the coach and Rylan being mortified. So in an act of cowardliness I sat on it, and waited.

I trust that he truly is okay, but I would have preferred to have waited just one more week for full recovery.
In case I never said it - I hate football.

Monday, July 27, 2009

When -

When does it stop?

-When do we stop thinking we are not enough?
-When do we stop thinking we cannot meet society standards?
- When do we stop trying so hard to be someone else?

-Why are we just not enough?
Not enough time, not enough money.

Not enough luv'?

This weekend a friend of ours (not really close) was found dead in his garage.
In an effort to maintain some level of compassion for this man, I will not spill the gory details - but the death was intentional. It is sad, it is tragic and surreal.

I feel like I am in the twilight zone. I feel like the neighborhood where this family lives is drinking toxic cool-aid from the same drinking well.

Is it a sign of the recession? Or just reality catching up with people? Is it a list of bad decisions catching up with an individual that they wake up disgusted by the person they see in the mirror?

The small block along the lane in this subdivision is falling apart at the seams, even before this tragic accident. The man and his wife were having issues, they were splitting up. With three kids involved it become very complicated. He did afew bad things, she had enough. I liked them both as people - enough said. I would have never pegged them for extreme choices.

Across the street is a home where approx a year ago, the young women in the house also lost her husband - in a tragic accident. My sister found this man dead at the bottom of a hill. And still deals with the pain and emotion that surrounds finding someone dead and losing a good friend.

In some strange god like way, these two women whom have lost their husbands end up in a 2 hr car ride together over the weekend. I say strange, because in the natural way of the world, they would never cross paths - let alone end up a car ride together. I pray the find comfort in each other and might be surprised by a friendship.

How strange it is that it takes something so tragic for you to find out who your good friends are. Or that you find friends you didn't even know you had.

My sister has been dedicated to keeping the women company, she has not left this ladies house for the last two days. My sister has been her rock in these tragic times. Last year my sister found her best friends husband dead, this tragic loss cannot be easier on her either. My heart aches for her at the moment. My sister has been the rock, for two women who have lost their husbands. My sister has been the source of comfort and support and has had to see things and do things that will haunt her forever. I pray she is strong enough to process it all. I am not sure I could be, but I guess in these situations you have to be. We are the women, and we are always finding strenght we never knew we had.

I am doing what I can from a distance. I have brought food, stayed 4 to 6 hours at the ladies house trying to keep them all company. Sometimes just having someone around is a good source of comfort. My mother is also helping from a distance, the best way a mother can. Yesterday she took my sisters kids and my kids to the country for afew days so we would have the flexibility to stay with this women and attempt to help her sort thru this mess and tragedy.

Yesterday, as I field phone calls from family, friends and the funeral home I find myself in auto mode. Trying to protect the lady who is sleeping for the first time since she arrived home. I find myself talking about cremation, about a guy, I expect to walk thru the door any moment.

We find ourselves going thru his packed van - he was leaving on Monday to start his new life. We find HIS stuff and I am almost afriad to touch it. The feeling of wanting to puke never leaves. The feeling of wanting to cry is never very far away.

I look around the room last night and this is the mental picture.
Me - wondering why am I here. Then I see my sister across the room, dead tired in the arm chair staying put to support her friend. I then see the women who just lost her husband and is left behind to pick up the pieces for herself and her 3 kids. I think 'god help her' and say a small prayer.
My second thought is I need to see my own husband because the thought of living a life without him saddens me beyond words. This drives home the fact that we never know what tomorrow might bring, so live today like it maybe your last.
Then I see one more person - my sisters other friend who a year ago lost her husband. Then I remember why this seems a bit familiar to me. I have been here before - about a year ago. Hanging on the outskirts of a neighborhood tragedy. These ladies will need each other and may be surprised to find how much they have in common. They may also be surprised at how much people really do care, and where their true friends are. There maybe some good things to come out of this, but they maybe blinded by tears at the moment too see it.
I feel helpless and at a loss.............

But I did go home last night determined to fight a little hard at keeping my marriage strong, and letting lance know that no matter what happens I don't ever want to this without him. Her tragedy pushes me a bit closer to loving my husband and for that I thank her.

It has also made me realize how strong my sister really is, and how much hurt her heart has seen and carried recently. Some of the tears I cry these days are for her, but in return I feel joy for the women she is becoming right before our eyes. As I told the ladies yesterday about my sister and I quote " She is RockStarr. We luv to hate her, and her attitude sucks - but she is good to the core, and the best friend anyone could have.' If you are luck enough to have seen a glimpse of her for real, you will be surprised, amazed and in luv with her. She does not let anyone 'in' - but when she does you are there for life.

Please keep all of these ladies in your prayers - they each have a heavy burden to carry. I hope they realize:
When to cry on the shoulder of a good friend
When to share a glass of wine and a good story with a good friend
When enough is really enough
When all of it really does not matter........keep the money, fortune and fame. Give me good friends and family.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Scarr

Today we went to our 3 week check up at Children's Hospital.
We were cleared for everything.
He can have chips - as long as he puts them in the back of his mouth. We must still avoid utilizing our front teeth too much. However the bone graph seems to be a success - the doctor even feel the bone in his gum line.

Two days ago the tape on his hip came off. The tap was attached to the surgery site. Apparently it is some new fancy tape that NEVER has to be changed. It was attached to the stitches, and once the site was healed it came off. It was water proof and everything.

Under the small strip of tape is a scarr. If I get enough courage, I will take a photo of it.
But for right now seeing the scarr makes me want to throw up. Makes me want to cry.
I put on a strong smile when I look at it for Rylan, but it symbolizes so much in my mind.
For one, that is where they cut him open. That is where they physically hurt him on purpose - the purpose was to cut to the bone, open his bone and dig out the marrow. *cringe, cringe, cringe*
The reality of it hurts my heart.

As a mother that carried him for 9 mths and has luv'd him since I saw him rolling around in the ultrasound, the scarr reminds me of my failures. Reminds me that as normal as he may look - he is cleft. And because of his cleft he was subject to such pain and now a permante scarr. I feel part responsible. I feel part ashamed, and I know I shouldn't - but I do. I would give anything to make him okay, and to ensure that he never had to be subject to another scarr.

This is scarr number 3 on his little body - two in his lip line and now one on his hip.

I pray i can keep his emotional scarrs to a minimum; but to subject him to a process that produces a scarr intentionally seems wrong to me.
I know he needed it, and I am glad we did it. But I am saddened by the constant reminder. I feel like I have failed him in some sense. I feel like I should have done better, should have protected him more. Or done crazy things like ate more fiber, folic acid etc. I guess as a parent you always play the 'what if game'. I've seen my mother do it 100 times, and when she does it I think she is crazy. But today, I wonder what if I had just been 'better' - would he have been okay?

He will wear his scarr like a badge of honor - and he should. He has so much to be proud of. It will remind me of this summer. The summer he was 8, and I allowed the hospital to add one more scarr to his body in hopes of keeping him 'normal'. Today, I cannot take a photo of it.
I hope to be stronger tomorrow.

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Recovery going well.









Upate 11 days after surgery. All is going well. Swelling has gone down, smile is back to 100% and we are happy. A photo of his gumline so you can see the stitches, a photo of his hip so you can see the surgery site. A few photos of us and him. We are happy these days and blessed.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Recovery..



















Our bone graph was a successful surgery - I survived (I think). I pinch myself every time I think I actually survived. We had a few snafus, but nothing we could not overcome.


To say that Rylan is a ROCK STARR would be putting it lightly. This kid totally rocks my world, and makes me re-think my thoughts on life and purpose. He does not do it on purpose, it all sort of just happens.



We WERE released within 24 hours of surgery - which floors me.


Surgery was from 12:20 to 4pm. And somewhere among it all, my mother wanted me to eat. I could barely breath - please don't make me eat. As we were called back to recovery, I noticed sticky stuff around Rylan's eyes. The nurse commented that his eyes were taped shut while the machine 'helped him breath'. *my heart skipped at beat at that moment.*


I imagine the stars lining up so that everything goes JUST right, so the kid can come out from being put under. That scares the living hell out of me. He is groggy, his voice is strained sounding - from the tube they put down his throat.

And 2 hours after surgery he is puking up his guts. The pink puke tray is filled with blood and sprite. The amount of blood, makes my skin crawl. The puking throws him into severe pain - his hip hurts, his mouth hurts and now the puking. It is almost more than I can stand.





We give him oxy-codone and Tylenol at the same time - he goes to sleep. While he is sleeping, I crawl in bed with him - being sure not to touch his hip. I lay next to him while he sleeps, I don't sleep much - for the most part I cry. Tears of joy, sadness and relief. While I cry, Lance sleeps on the other side of the room. His snoring is rather comforting, and Rylan's breath strokes my heart and reminds it to beat. I am so glad to have him back.


He wakes up at 4 am - the puking continues. And that sucks.

He is still drinking, though - so we are giving him ANYTHING he wants. I pull out the camera - I feel like I must document this adventure; even if it hurts me to the core. The moment he notices the camera he tries to smile. A small giggle escapes my mouth - that damn kid; swollen 10 times more than normal and hurts like hell and wants to smile for the camera. God bless him and his tender soul.


I take photo's to document the recovery - I feel it is important for him and the multiple families that we stay in touch with. The darn kid even gives me a thumbs up. While I am on the phone on Friday, I am telling someone about the number of times he puked thru out the night - he holds up his hands and corrects me. He lets me know he actually puked 4 times thru out the night; not just the little 3 I was explaining. Somewhere along the way early Friday morning he even found it in him to sass me - I was taken aback, and humored at the same time. I hugged Lance and we both smiled - so very glad to have him back.


They released us close to 1pm on Friday - Rylan could not even walk, nor was he keeping much down. I was half angry they let us go. I thought they were CRAZY thinking that they could send us home because he would recovery rather quickly.


Well, color me all wrong.


Friday and Friday night was still a bit of a struggle. I had to help him walk to the bathroom, and hold him as he attempted to slide each foot across the floor - picking them up was too hard. Friday was another night of hell. We bought him ensure, ice cream, apple juice, sprite, yogurt, mash potatoes. Anything soft - nonchew and filled with calories. He drank the ensure like a champ and was glad to have a soda more than once a week. His drink of choice was sprite.


I leave early on Sat to go get Pyper - this takes me 5 hours. When I left he was still in hell mode. When I got back, 5 hours later, he was walking around. I almost fell over.


WALKING AROUND. He even took a shower - by himself. He was playing his gameboy. I asked Lance if he was on his pain med's - nope. Just Tylenol. I thought it was a fluke. Rylan begged to go see the fireworks - I eventually gave in.


He walked around with a punk in his hands - dragging his right leg around so he didn't hurt his hip. And we stayed out for a couple of hours. During his 4th of July outing him and some friends put tape on his shirt. The tape was on the front with a big letter A. I asked him what that was for - he smiled and stated ' because I look like a chipmunk, and I get to be Alvin.' *see him steal my heart at that very moment. His sense of humor, and ability to take it all in stride amazes me - I have so much to learn* I expected our 4th of July outing to put him in alot of pain. I figured we over-did-it. Color me wrong again. Sunday he was even better.


He continued to laugh at himself, continued to let me take photos and continues to get better.

After Friday I never touched his pain med's again. We maybe give him a dose of Tylenol here and there - but nothing frequent.



Pyper told him, in her 3 yr old way, that he 'looked weird'. She asked him flat out 'what happened to you?' His response - 'my dad hit me' ; then he rolls laughing. *dear god*


Pyper luv's it - and has told everyone that her dad hits her and her brother. *see child services arriving any day now*. That kids has such wit, and such a good disposition - I could not be more amazed.


So, Friday night Lance and I are sitting out back while Rylan sleeps. We are reconnecting, and thanking god that Rylan is safe and sound. Me with my red wine him with his beer. We are sharing our stories of amazement, laughing and crying. Then it dawns on us 'He never asked why.' He NEVER asked why he had to have this done. Sure we talked to all the doctors, we explained the procedure - yada, yada, yada. But we never said WHY. And he never asked. *damn he is a trusting soul, I can only hope we don't disappoint*


So on Sunday night, around the dinner table - I asked him. 'Do you know why we had this surgery?' He states 'no.' and he shrugs his shoulders, in a whatever manner. We explain that this is to help with jaw growth, and for future teeth - in an effort to keep him looking normal as he grows. He laughs, smiles and said ' well thank god they didn't take bone from my butt, otherwise I would be kissing my butt all the time.' And with that we laughed until we cried and we moved on.


This child is amazing. I know he is mine and I AM biased. But I will not keep him forever, I will share him and his wonderful attitude with anyone who will listen. He truly is one of a kind. Most of his qualities of kindness, humor and willingness to accept the unknown does not come from me or his father. I pray we pay enough attention to him and Pyper that we don't miss the important attributes in both of them. To say that I am amazed would be putting it lightly. I am blessed and I know it. Lance and I both agree he has a soft heart and no little guy (girl) should have to endure the operations that he has, we are so grateful for him and his sister.


Thank you for the outpour of support, prayers and well wishes. We are rockn't his out one day at a time. Today I went to work for a few hours. He asked to go see the kids - he didn't want to stay at home with me and be 'bored'. I gave him a 4 hour window. Now it is 10pm at night - his day was fine and still no pain med's. I am taking it all in stride - that is all I have these days. I am letting him lead me on this one.


He IS swallowen. He had nothing external done to his face - just internal. To graphs of bone were placed in his gumline. Each day the swelling goes down and he looks more and more like my 'fry guy'. This was taken on Saturday. I will post an updated on soon. You will be amazed.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

The room

It is the operating room at that hospital that freaks me out the most.

How would I know that - because I go back w/ him until he is under.

The room smells like a hospital, it is bleak and sterile.

The only splash of color are the scrubs the doctors and nurses wear. And in an effort to try to lighten the mood they put characters and colors on the scrubs. I try to imagine being 8, on a kiddie cocktail (they really call it that), and being laid on the operating table surrounded by a bunch of big heads in red caps w/ snoopy. With the kiddie cocktail surging thru your veins, he prob feels like he is tripping. I imagine it being WAY too scary. I imagine him hearing a bunch of voices talk around him, but not too him. I imagine him being terrified as they strap him down to the table and begin poking him with needles. I imagine him wishing someone was around that he knew, that could comfort him. This is why I go back. I want him to feel and hear me, even in his head. Even as he goes under. He can take the rest of it in stride -the room, the people w/ snoopy on their head, and the drugs that will begin to surge thru his body. And hopefully somewhere in it all he will find a sense to remain grounded, to hear a voice comfort and know that the hand touching him is mine.

This room scares the living hell out of me. It is the place I tell him good-bye, it is the place I leave him scrawled out on a table looking dead and helpless. It is the worst memory to keep locked away in that swirling head of mine. This is the most challenging mom moment I have, and just getting there and walking thru it takes all I have.

I can only imagine what it is like for him, and with that thought I have find the strenght o walk into and out of those doors.

Today at noon, we are the last surgery of the day.

We must be there at 10 am for prep, this includes the kiddie cocktail and then the room.

It will take anywhere between 2.5 to 4 hours - Lance likes to say 3 hours I lean closer to 4.

Really way to long for his little soul to be under. I hope he has nice thoughts, I hope he has good memories to hold on too, and I hope he knows we luv him.

Kids

Kids
Nieces & Nephews and Kids...