Well, I guess that is about all I can do now. I wonder what happened to Myra44. You out there? I am back out here. We walked along on the path for a while then she left. Don't know what happened. Think I got too positive.
Anyway, think I'll just keep digging to see if I can find anything.
[Starts to dig; Talks while digging - actually not really digging so much as moving debris out of the way]
Once again, I am surrounded by the wreckage. This time, I'd like to think I did not cause this. I certainly had a part in it in that I got on the train knowing full well where it might be headed. But you know what, nothing would have or would keep me off that train. Knowing how the trip went and the time I had, I'd do it again.
Ya know there still is wreckage from ten years ago out here. Just remnants though. See there. [points to a scrap piece of metal on the floor] that one belonged to Myra. [Stops, reflects] Yeah, I was still creating some to wreckage back then.
Yeah, she's gone. Just traces that's all.
[Stops, looks at camera.]
Anyway, I am just trying to sort things out. I started by reviewing the time line. I think when I look at the whole thing in a clinical manner, it just doesn't hurt as much. So I tried to map a little bit of it out in the previous post. Just sorting out the pieces, putting similar pieces together in their only little areas kind of like a jigsaw puzzle, ya know? I don't know why that would help but it seemed to make me feel better.
So I am recording it all here, just like I did before. That's what made me think of Myra. She was cute and I was hurt and I fell. She liked this firefighter dude but was married. I would obsess about her for a little bit but really not too much. I mean thinking about her took me out of the pain for a while. I mean, when I was looking at her, I wasn't looking at the wreckage. Then she left. Hmmm, I wonder if there is anything in there about the "Sunday night girl."
Yup! found her but not under "Sunday night girl" That was what I called her when I was talking with Tara or would go to the SLAA meetings. "Sunday night girl" was code for Carrie. Still don't know her last name. I talked about her in meetings even when Wendy was there. At the time figured I'd never be in a relationship with her, Wendy that is.
I am going through this blog like a junkyard. Picking up pieces and looking at them - trying to remember. The pieces are memories, memories made a bit more clear because the memories are in writing. So, I hope the metaphor isn't too cryptic.
Back to the Junk Yard.
Showing posts with label The story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The story. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
The last entry in this blog was April 23 of this year 2015. This is when things started really getting serious regarding Wendy's illness. She, I think, had just had her first thoracentesis. It was before my kids were here. Looking back at through my pictures it would have had to have been on April 12th.
Let's see. . .
Her mom's unveiling was on March 20th
Her mom died April 16th of 2014.
Wendy lived 1 year and 8 months longer than her mother.
Let's see. . .
Her mom's unveiling was on March 20th
Her mom died April 16th of 2014.
Wendy lived 1 year and 8 months longer than her mother.
Today is December 30, 2015. Wendy died on December 6th.
I'm just trying to put together a time line here. I am also trying to go through the memories for some reason. Why am I doing this? I guess just for something to do? Don't know.
The oxygen, came in a couple days later. It would never leave until December 6th.
I think what I might be trying to do is re-live that time so that I can continue to be with her. It is a way of not letting go. . . Why the fuck didn't I take more pictures!? of her!
On May 7th she had her first Chemo treatment. Up until this point, she was taking an oral form of Chemo-therapy called Xeloda (Zeloda) She started this in December of 2014. By February she was having serious problems with her skin on her hands but primarily on her feet. She was getting really bad sores on the backs of her ankles (Achilles Tendon) I am thinking she stopped the Xeloda near the end of February or beginning of March and was off of it for about a month. She restarted it at a lower dose for two weeks when the oncologist said it was time to start "real" chemo-therapy. So on May 7th we started abraxane a form of paclitaxel. Wish I had been taking notes.
On the 10th of May none of the pictures I took indicate oxygen at home. On the 16th of May, the day of Leo's and Amanda's wedding, the oxygen concentrator is shown in the living room. And I do remember taking the bottles with us to the wedding but we did not take them in. At least the pictures do not indicate this.
At this point we were still at the local oncology center.
I'm just trying to put together a time line here. I am also trying to go through the memories for some reason. Why am I doing this? I guess just for something to do? Don't know.
The oxygen, came in a couple days later. It would never leave until December 6th.
I think what I might be trying to do is re-live that time so that I can continue to be with her. It is a way of not letting go. . . Why the fuck didn't I take more pictures!? of her!
On May 7th she had her first Chemo treatment. Up until this point, she was taking an oral form of Chemo-therapy called Xeloda (Zeloda) She started this in December of 2014. By February she was having serious problems with her skin on her hands but primarily on her feet. She was getting really bad sores on the backs of her ankles (Achilles Tendon) I am thinking she stopped the Xeloda near the end of February or beginning of March and was off of it for about a month. She restarted it at a lower dose for two weeks when the oncologist said it was time to start "real" chemo-therapy. So on May 7th we started abraxane a form of paclitaxel. Wish I had been taking notes.
On the 10th of May none of the pictures I took indicate oxygen at home. On the 16th of May, the day of Leo's and Amanda's wedding, the oxygen concentrator is shown in the living room. And I do remember taking the bottles with us to the wedding but we did not take them in. At least the pictures do not indicate this.
At this point we were still at the local oncology center.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Is it time yet?
He had been in out of the rain for a while. The warmth of the fire felt good. He had built something. He had been away from the nightmare for five years now. During that time he had built a shelter. There was nothing palacial or elegent about it. It was simple and at first it just kept the rain off his head and allowed him to get warm.
In the early days he was so grateful just to be out of the rain. He had gotten some distance from the accident but yet he could still see the waxing and waining glow of the fires in the distant as the rain continued to fall. The rain never stopped. The yellow orange glow in the distance served as a constant reminder of the wreckage. But after some time that glow that filled the night sky dimmed until one evening as he was snuggling under the covers he looked out and realized that not only had the rain stopped the there was not orange light reflecting off the clouds in the distance.
He had no idea how long it had been other than it seemed like years. It took years for the fires to die down. As he thought about it, there must have been a tremendous amount of fuel to keep them going all this time. And indeed the amount of fuel was staggering and the fires had been going on for years unabated.
Even after the sky no longer flickered with golden yellow light the fires persisted and he knew this. He knew they were still there just not strong enough to illuminate the night sky. He could still smell. He hadn't gotten quite far enough to escape the sickening smell. He had set up what he thought would be a temporary shelter. He vowed he would stay just for a few days and move on. But he was tired and the days turned into weeks, the weeks to months and then the months collected themselves into two years.
One morning he woke up to a clear blue sky and realized he could not remember the last time he saw the brownish green haze or that "burn" smell. He looked back in the direction from which he had traveled two years ago and wondered what was there.
At first it felt like he was being shocked in his stomach followed by slight nausea. He didn't think too much about it at first but a month later it returned. The feeling was more than a slight shock, now it was a hard tightening in his lower abdomen as if he was being punched in the gut in slow motion followed by a loss of breath. He did not even realize he was not breathing. The feeling started to return frequently. It would happen at randomn times accept for Sunday's. On Sunday, he could count on it.
He began to realize that this would come on everytime he looked back in the direction of the wreckage or even think about it. And finally it occurred to him that didn't the night mare happen on a Sunday.
He had to leave. Didn't he have any other choice? He began to notice that he was rationalizing with himself everytime the queezy feeling and loss of breath would come on. He was actually arguing with some one but did not know who.
"I mean there was nothing else I could do! To stay there meant certain death! Right? The place wasn't safe. I mean how long had the fires burned?" He would think to himself everytime the feeling came on. Just stay here and you'll be alright. Deep down inside, he knew what this meant but only at an emotional level. He couldn't actually enunciate in his head let alone out loud what he understood to be true at the gut level.
In the early days he was so grateful just to be out of the rain. He had gotten some distance from the accident but yet he could still see the waxing and waining glow of the fires in the distant as the rain continued to fall. The rain never stopped. The yellow orange glow in the distance served as a constant reminder of the wreckage. But after some time that glow that filled the night sky dimmed until one evening as he was snuggling under the covers he looked out and realized that not only had the rain stopped the there was not orange light reflecting off the clouds in the distance.
He had no idea how long it had been other than it seemed like years. It took years for the fires to die down. As he thought about it, there must have been a tremendous amount of fuel to keep them going all this time. And indeed the amount of fuel was staggering and the fires had been going on for years unabated.
Even after the sky no longer flickered with golden yellow light the fires persisted and he knew this. He knew they were still there just not strong enough to illuminate the night sky. He could still smell. He hadn't gotten quite far enough to escape the sickening smell. He had set up what he thought would be a temporary shelter. He vowed he would stay just for a few days and move on. But he was tired and the days turned into weeks, the weeks to months and then the months collected themselves into two years.
One morning he woke up to a clear blue sky and realized he could not remember the last time he saw the brownish green haze or that "burn" smell. He looked back in the direction from which he had traveled two years ago and wondered what was there.
At first it felt like he was being shocked in his stomach followed by slight nausea. He didn't think too much about it at first but a month later it returned. The feeling was more than a slight shock, now it was a hard tightening in his lower abdomen as if he was being punched in the gut in slow motion followed by a loss of breath. He did not even realize he was not breathing. The feeling started to return frequently. It would happen at randomn times accept for Sunday's. On Sunday, he could count on it.
He began to realize that this would come on everytime he looked back in the direction of the wreckage or even think about it. And finally it occurred to him that didn't the night mare happen on a Sunday.
He had to leave. Didn't he have any other choice? He began to notice that he was rationalizing with himself everytime the queezy feeling and loss of breath would come on. He was actually arguing with some one but did not know who.
"I mean there was nothing else I could do! To stay there meant certain death! Right? The place wasn't safe. I mean how long had the fires burned?" He would think to himself everytime the feeling came on. Just stay here and you'll be alright. Deep down inside, he knew what this meant but only at an emotional level. He couldn't actually enunciate in his head let alone out loud what he understood to be true at the gut level.
Let's take the boat out.
Wait until darkeness
Let's take the boat out
Wait until darkness comes. . . .
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