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 |  The latest Life Journey of Nada, widowed, now married! Blog #4 |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I'm no longer a single widow. I found true love again. Call me Lucky! |
| “Hi Dad!” “Hi Sheila. How are ya?” “Fine daddy.” I looked over at Paul and smiled. It is my birthday and I was hoping daddy would call. I’d called him earlier but he wasn’t home, so I spoke with his wife. Meanwhile I figured he didn’t get my message and Paul took me out for dinner. “Jean told me you met with the doctor and have...uhhh...” “Rheumatoid Arthritis. Yeah.” “Oh well, it could have been worse.” I smiled. “Yep, it sure could have. Hey, you calling to wish me a Happy Birthday?” “What? I called you? When?” “Uh, just now. You are calling to wish me a Happy Birthday aren’t you?” “Whose birthday? I called?” “Dad, I’m out to dinner and the waitress just brought me a slice of cake with a candle...I’ll blow it out with you.” I hastily made a wish and blew it out into the phone. Paul smiled and nodded his approval. “I made a wish.” “Hello, Brandy?” “No dad, it’s me, Sheila.” “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” “Dad can we talk tomorrow?” “Oh I am going to play golf tomorrow. Every week my friend Rudy and I play golf at 6:30 am. I’m home by 10.” I sighed. “Well dad, I’m going to call you tomorrow after golf then.” “Ok. Goodnight then.” I heard him disconnect. Paul looked at me questioningly. I smiled. “Dad was confused, I’ll speak with him tomorrow. It happens.” Ring. Ring. I look at my iPhone and it says I have a call from Dad. Again. “Hello Dad.” “Sheila?” “Yeah Dad?” “I’m so embarrassed. Happy Birthday.” “Oh, don’t worry Dad. Thanks.” “I feel horrible I missed your birthday.” “Dad, today is my birthday, you didn’t miss it.” “Oh.” “Dad, I’m eating my birthday cake with Paul in a restaurant, can I call you in the morning?” “Oh...sure. Sorry.” “I love you Dad. Goodnight.” |
| Here it is only 6 days later and I find myself on Party's blog feeling guilty, so in the spirit of blogging I'll give you some of my thoughts. 1. Went to the Farmer's Market today. I wanted to pick up some of the pistachio, dried cherry mix that Paul adores. In all fairness it tastes wonderful, but it is expensive. You would think I'd find some fools gold or something mixed in, but nope, just healthy stuff. I managed to get the last two packages. He'll be happy! 2. Why do doctors think they give you a pill and size of the person doesn't matter? I somehow don't think you'd give a child an adult dose. The fact of the matter is I am barely over 100 lbs. and I don't think my small frame should have the same dose as....say a 6 ft. 200 lb. man. So I've spent the past week researching and getting other opinions before I just swallow. (Ahem, the pills I mean.) I'll be taking 1/2 a dose as per my own doctor. Gawd, being vigilant is difficult. 3. Something bit me on my ring finger while I slept and now it is so swelled up I can't wear my ring...been a few days now. I did see some blood smeared on the wall, so I hope in my sleep I killed. (Well a gal can hope.) This year there are so many more biting bugs than ever in CA. I have glue boards for spiders under my bed. So far I've caught about 100 spiders (don't ask), 500 potato bugs, 100 assorted silverfish and crickets, one lizard (oops) and 3 mice. Oh, and Frasier managed to sit on one last week....had to cut his hair off while pulling the glue board away and throwing kleenex on it to keep it from bouncing back and resticking. GAWD. (I bet he doesn't go under the bed again.) I am not killing Tarantulas though. 4. I got a Hallmark Store to agree to carry some of my cards. Now to get them over there. 5. Can someone tell me why a flat say 10% tax on people who earn $ and of course businesses (NO EXCEPTIONS) wouldn't work to bring in revenue? If there are no exceptions, no tax breaks and everyone had to pay our country would have more money than we need, AND we could eliminate the need for IRS, Private Health Insurance etc. I just can't help but wonder. Okay, my guilt is somewhat eased...I'll be back.  |
| Well, I realize it's been nearly a week and ya'll have been waiting to hear about my tests. I went in, and even took the doctor a hand drawn card I made, because the week before when I was a "new" patient he told me we had the same birthday. I also took a few of my postcards I sell saying, "Now give me some good news". He said he wished he had better news. I had my husband there with me so the doc went on to show us the results of my blood test. Good news I scored really high...bad news it was for Rheumatoid Arthritis. Oh well. He also gave me a shot of cortisone in my hand which hurt like heck, but within hours brought me some relief. He said I could drive home, but think he forgot how fast the numbing agent wears off and the fact I was over an hour's drive away. In fact, come to think of it he wondered how I knew it was his birthday the next day.  (I gotta stop with the emoticons.)I have prescriptions for medication to take once a week, then begin taking a shot once a week. We may have it early enough and IF the medications work on me (no guarantee but I have high hopes) then it is possible the disease could go into remission. I've been researching it all and have not started any of the medicine yet...the side effects scare me, but then so does the thought of it just progressively getting worse. I think I will be taking it, but want to wait until I am not home alone to do it. Plus I want another opinion which I will get Friday. Well enough about my good news...I got a toilet for my birthday! Yep, a push-button electric toilet my husband is installing on the boat. I couldn't do the pump one with my bad hand (among many other things I was moaning about). It may sound like an odd thing, but believe me I worship him for doing this for me. I actually love the boat but the flushing thing was a bit much to me...I'm so used to being the caretaker it is going to take some pride swallowing to let him do things for me. But ya'll know I'll go down that path kicking and screaming. I also had a package from my pal Betsy...she made me a necklace and earrings featuring frogs! It's adorable. She has made me four necklaces now...I adore the animal print one and the ruby beads. Sigh, such talent. In other exciting news a friend stopped over Sat. and brought a friend of hers. A movie actress from some HUGE films. Talk about a nice, down to earth woman. Turns out she knows my neighbor too and is a cattle rancher herself. Who knew? I can't say who it is, as I consider it an invasion of her privacy since this was personal time of hers. But, I bet ya'll have seen more than one movie and tv show with her. I have a very big week, full of doc appt. and lawyers...all I need now is more time to spend here. I look forward to getting this initial surprise about my health outta the way and back to great laughs again. Laughter truly is the best medicine! (Cesar and his wife have been really wonderful. I'm very fortunate to have them put up with me! Trust me though, it doesn't mean Cesar is any less...funny cause he is.) |
| Watching the whole debt ceiling fiasco has been painful. Not that I watched it much, but have been dealing with some health issues and thought I could use television to distract me from the pain and worry. (In retrospect maybe “The Real Housewives of…” might have been more successful.) What it did instead was point out what is wrong with our government. It got me to thinking how much I resented things which seem out of my control, like the government, those people who are supposed to be minding the money for we, the taxpayer. And like the fact that as an artist and writer the fact my right hand has gotten so painful I cannot stand to type or draw like I once did. My reluctance to fully admit to myself perhaps this could be a permanent problem kept me from moving on…writing and drawing. I’ve been utterly miserable. I resented the seeming loss to have freedom of my speech and creative ability…now that I actually was thinking I had useful things to share through both of them. The writing aspect I missed for the ability to speak with people, share the foibles and folly of my almost 63 years. I have become a grouch due to the inability to express myself in the ways that have helped me cope with so much over the past few years in particular. Just ask the new husband. Actually the more reasonable side of me does prevail, but usually only once I quit feeling the poor me crap. Seriously, I just turned 63 and I have every reason to be happy and not waste time on misery and feeling sorry for this temporary condition which brought on my self-serving depression. So, realizing my problems are nothing next to the really big ones we face in this country I decided to stop thinking about the things I cannot do and instead focus on what I can do. Hey, just because I can’t draw with my right hand, exactly what is wrong with my left one? Nothing except it has always been the “also ran”. I remembered when I broke my right wrist and had a cast for eight weeks…I learned to do a solo left-handed blow dry, apply my makeup, cook…well heck I could do most everything (even if the most difficult thing was wiping my own butt) if I took the time. So I approached my desk with awkward trepidation and eyeballed the pen…found a blank card and decided to commit the pen to the paper. Nobody had to see the result. Some hour later I finally stood back to see the impact of a completed card, colored in and totally done left-handed. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Honestly, it has shakier lines, and some of the colors didn’t stay in the lines, but overall I felt vindicated…happy! All we need to do to feel better is to commit and follow through on it. I know it is simplistic, but sometimes it is the simple things, which work the best on complex-seeming problems. If only government could see it this way. (I just received a call from the doctor’s office, the results of my tests are in. Could I come in today? Of course…cross your fingers! God willing I’ll get the use of my hand back!) |
| The hand is still a mess...I'm down three doctor visits, an MRI, a hand/wrist brace, x-rays, steroid treatment, 5 vials of blood and have 2 weeks until the next 2 appointments. WHAA??? So, this will be a short entry...and my drawings are also non-existent lately. Sigh, this is really tough. Oh, did I mention I broke a toe last week? The exact same one on the opposite foot as the one I broke Christmas Day 2005...very weird. Next week makes 2 years since the day Lance went to the doctor...on my birthday. I may have finally been able to settle the estate/probate with his family...time will tell. Only yesterday was a tentative handshake deal. Made. Whatever, I just want to move forward without the constant drag of wondering what I have or don't have. I can make some kind of future when I know...and now I won't feel like I can't do things, which is not fair to my husband now. He's been terrifically supportive, it's time I was able to focus on us. Well, the hand pain dictates an end to this...sorry, am hoping soon my pain will end and I can find a sense of humor again! |
| Just when I thought it safe to come back into the blogging waters I discover....oh heck, what matters? What I discovered is getting older is a huge pain...or several smaller ones as it turns out. Sigh. I've been having problems with my right hand for nearly a year.  I gulp down some ibuprofen and continue to draw or write or... I am a newlywed  , but now with all of the warnings about taking iburophen-like drugs I worry what they are doing to me. Gawd, remember the days when you took two aspirin and sucked it up? Well, nowadays you need to be so alert about all the crap you take...those commercials should give everyone pause. I mean really, when the drugs you take for...just about everything whatever problem we think we have will potentially cause, stomach ache, diarrhea, suicidal thoughts (what's up with that?), leaky bladder or even death...you better think, "Which is worse, the problem or the cure?" Yesterday I had got to get an MRI. Yikes, whoever invented that should have been forced to do it before they unleashed it on the world. (Sadistic.) When they ask you on the phone if you are "claustrophobic" it should make you really cautious. I'm thinking they couldn't possible stick me into that skinny tube for just an MRI of my right hand. WRONG. Not only did they make me wear some scrubs, remove every vestige of metal, quiz me incessantly about my innards, but then they duct taped my hand to a square piece of wood, enclosed it in some cylinder, and shoved stuffing in so it wouldn't move...jammed earplugs half into my ears, had me lie on my stomach, back arched up, hand outstretched, head down and then shoved a pillow under my chest and another under my ankles and said, "You want a panic ball?" GULP. "Sure." I could barely squeak out. They draped some cord with a little ball across my only nostril still exposed. "This will take 25 minutes. DO NOT touch the end of the ball, it is very sensitive. And do not move your hand." A piece of cake I thought as the guerney-like table slid me into the tube of insanity. For the next 5 hours (okay 25 minutes but it felt like 5 hours) I endured noises not at all unlike a jackhammer next to your head. What the hell? At one point I was trying to think about some old songs from the 60's to save my sanity...the noise interfered. Then I thought I would just go with the flow and try to nap...that's when the tingling of my arm began...and my back screamed "PAIN", and my legs began to twitch. I was drooling on the pillow, afraid I would electrocute myself with the panic ball cord. My hand began to have a charley horse...hmmm, "Should I press the ball?" I wondered. Then I realized the attendant was saying something, though highly illegible with ear plugs and that damn clanging. "I can't hear you." I yelled in my best Gomer Pyle voice. She made the machine stop clanging and leaned down and yelled, "Only 15 minutes left." Only? I had been enduring (barely) this for a mere 10 minutes? My how time flies....clang, clang. Wasn't there a song which began, "Clang, clang, clang went the trolley...?" Gawd... help me I've lost my mind. Meanwhile she wasted no time getting on with it. Well, I survived, barely. I can hardly wait to hear what the doc says about those pics of my hands. It seems my ibuprofen is wearing off for today, think I'll go have some wine. Hey, this return to blogging here could get addictive! |
| Hard to believe but I joined WDC 7 years ago today. I renewed my membership last week, just like I hope to renew my efforts to blog. Well, being a newlywed and all I am finding it difficult to find time to write. Actually I'm finding it difficult to do much drawing too. Huh? I decided to peek into my portfolio and see what I was doing in 2004...it seems like less than a month had me putting in "On Strength"  , and soon to be followed by "Speed Bumps" which was in contemplation of my 55th birthday. Boy, I have trouble remembering when I was in my 50's now that I will turn 63 in a few weeks. Time flies, and with it so many memories.The series I wrote with Scarlett   , ""I Second That Emotion" " was one of the most fulfilling things I have ever written...in fact I will say it is by far the best thing I have done. We quit the series after it doing 1985...obviously our lives have gone on and there is so much more to add. Perhaps we can think about adding to it. What do you say my friend?? It could be the only way I will be blogging again regularly.The past two years have seen many changes both in my life and those of the site. I will say there seems to be no dull moments in my life...at least generally speaking. The people I know here are really fine, really encouraging, always supportive and every one of them are quality friends. I know you have been waiting patiently for a picture of my new husband...here we are in Catalina 8 days ago! We sailed over for his birthday on the 7th...and he introduced me to snorkeling! I know...here's my commemorative postcard too! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I hope I get to spend another 7 years here!! |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** May 4, 2011 May 4, 2011My darling husband Paul, On this our wedding day I wish to give you a small present I feel is symbolic of many things about you, about us. The rubies represent your birthstone, and some of the many things I love and adore about you. The color speaks of your love and passion, something I have known since our first kiss. The red glow comes from within, an eternal flame, a symbol of our everlasting love. When choosing a wedding gift it had to speak to me of you. The rubies did, but the presence of the abalone shell confirmed it to my heart. Abalone not only represents the sea you love (and have lived on and with for years) but also speaks of fire, identity and of your self-definition. It is the ruler of personal power, will, autonomy and metabolism. It speaks to me of a spontaneity of vitality, a strength of purpose, and of your unlimited generosity. It whispers of complete satisfaction and contentment, things which do not need shouting to hear. Abalone represents a sense of morality and complete balance. I believe we both brought this into our marriage. If either of us lacks something the other fills it in naturally. It gives us our strength as a couple. Abalone also is used by athletes to help build and protect muscle tissue. I so appreciate the care you take with your body. I am learning from you. You have shown me the body truly is a temple, and I worship yours as the alter to my belief in all good things. As for the knife itself...to some it may not speak of love, but to me it is symbolic of how your love carefully carved a place within my heart with patience and understanding in a time and place others would have stabbed away at trying to rid me of my past. Not you. You have encouraged me to love and honor my memories of the life I had before there was you. You let me speak of it without censure until one day I realized the love I feel now is for you. What I had before I will never have again, I don’t want to repeat. With you I am allowed to be me all the time. There is nothing we can’t get through by being together. Today is the first day of the rest of our lives and I am joyful to be taking the first step with you. I love you with all of my heart. Happy Wedding Day!! Your Wife, Sheila XXXXXX ********** I'm thrilled to share my news with you. Thank you all for the kindness, understanding and support enabling me to feel whole again, capable of loving and moving on. I will be forever grateful for your friendships. |
| Like most of us, I had heard that little line and wondered. Not so much anymore since television ads for drugs now have the actor reciting a litany of woes to come if you try the medication. That is if you survive. Desperate times call for desperate measures. When after nine months of pain in my right hand with the last four of them accompanied by pain in my left wrist I was sure I needed an orthopedic doctor. Sure enough he allayed my fears by x-raying both and declaring, “There are no breaks.” Whew. “Hands take awhile to heal, especially when we get older.” I looked around the room for who he meant when he said “we”. I guess saying “we” is supposed to put me at ease with aging but it only pointed up the fact I had been letting slide a whole host of things while pointing to my wrist/hand as the culprit. Writing. Drawing. Oh yeah, and the gym. Sigh. I left that day with a song back in my heart for the first time in many months. Never mind which one because it was short-lived. A mere six weeks later I was back on his doorstep telling him I no longer wanted to remain Advil dependent as it can be harmful to people over ...deep breath...sixty. He said, “I understand. Let’s start you on some prednisone, but just six days worth. Then, if it works, we can do this every three-four months. Not more than that though or you will look like Jerry Lewis.” Gotcha. I decided I would wait until after my road trip to begin the six day treatment. Wisely. I tell you I was fine for two and a half days then all hell broke loose. I had every side effect they list plus the ones for withdrawal. What a unique experience. One I do not recommend. I thought about suicide, my bones and every joint and muscle ached, my heart beat erratically, mood changes were swifter than menopause, and I couldn’t sleep. I can’t list it all or I’d scare myself all over again. Suffice it to say it was the worst week ever, especial since I was sort of responsible. I thought I would have to go to the emergency room but instead I called Cesar and asked him to come over so I wouldn't be home alone. He stayed until Paul drove up from LA. My hands no longer hurt it is true, but my back is still not normal. It got me to thinking about trade offs in a very realistic way. When I went to my normal physician (because I was afraid I was about to have a heart attack my ticker was jumping around my chest so erratically) he was very surprised when I told him the facts surrounding the events. Not surprised by the side-effects so much, but because the dosage was for a person of average height/weight. Duh. He said to make sure in the future I tell them of my sensitivity. Yeah, NO PREDNISONE! It will make me rethink many things now. Always make sure the dosage is for someone of your size when taking medications. It is up to you to be vigilante I learned. The hard way. Hope you all had a wonderful Mother's Day. I got word my application to visit my son in prison has been approved. It's the little things eh?My heart is fine. One person even says it is perfect. I’m thinking I don’t have time to waste. None of us do. |
| Gawd I see it is has been nearly a month since I promised a story about Cesar. Well...today Cesar, his wife and one of their sons became a genuine American citizen. I can think of no better way than to commemorate it here. Proud to be an American Today is a day I can celebrate my friends and employees for the persistence of a dream they have had for years, becoming American Citizens. Today my friends and employees, Cesar and Angela and their son Ivan, will see the fruition of those dreams. All over this country there are thousands (maybe hundreds of thousands or millions) of take-it-for-granted American citizens who feel like America is no place they want to be, yet those closest to me are choosing to be one. Let me tell you about them. Cesar and Angela met in Ensenada while still teenagers. As it so often happens in large Mexican families, they were poor. Oh, but not in love and respect. They had plenty of that. And laughter, there was always something to laugh about. They had the usual teenage romance, one not all that unfamiliar to me, one of teenaged angst and plotting to be with one and other. One thing led to another and they got married. Angela was the baby in her family. Cesar the sensitive, kind man even during his teenage years promised to love, honor and cherish his young bride. Through the years life was not easy for them, but they had love, they had each other and then they had Ivan. All of a sudden “family” became a different kind of priority, but they never lost sight of their heritage, of where they came from. A few years later they had Cesar Jr. I’d be proud to have either of their sons as my own. They know it. I know Angela had an alcoholic father, still does. I know her mother has held together the family. Angela is the rock in her own family now. I know of the Cancers which have hurt their family members, of the tough times with so many problems, both financial and others. I don’t have all of the facts about their backgrounds, but I think of them now as my family. I am not the only ones touched by them either. They have been loyal both to my husband when he was alive, to me and more recently to my son. Frankly they have been caretakers to four of my dogs over the years also. We are integrated and I wouldn’t have it any other way. When Lance died they were here for me, sympathetic, caring and thoughtful in more ways than I could do justice here. Lance and I had depended on them both for so many things. I remember how Cesar would understand and take my outbursts born of so many frustrations, simply because I had no other place to vent. How he helped me take care of Lance after his open heart surgery, carefully and with sensitivity lifting him to turn him when I didn’t have the muscle. How he would help Lance onto the toilet because he understood the macho pride which would motivate a man with so many physical problems to push himself to extremes to be “normal” feeling. And this was but a drop in the bucket of what he did. When I became so ill (a year ago) that I could not walk without gasping for air, couldn’t fix myself food or anything else...they were here for me then. Cesar cooking my meals and bringing them to me on a bed tray. Angela would drive me to the hospital or doctor’s office, then wait patiently until I had been examined, then get my prescriptions filled. All the while wondering how I could survive the death of Lance. I doubt I could have survived as well without my “other” family...and I am so very proud to welcome them into the fold as newly minted Americans. I suppose I realized just how much it would mean to them when Cesar was overheard saying to some friends of his, “I’m not Mexican anymore.” Now I need to remind him he cannot forsake his heritage, but needs to embrace it to become the best American he can be...we all come from somewhere else, it is what gives us our character. Congratulations Cesar and Angela, the road was long and difficult, but I know you earned it. I hope we earn the faith you have in us. |
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. Cute pictures! I'm so glad you have found a new and different, but still beautiful, life.