Hello Tadpoles
This is Skippy's daughter, Evelyn (or Wallene for those of you who have been around long enough for those days), and I'm here (accompanied by Pooldad) to update you on our mother's situation.
As of November 3rd, 2015, my darling mother, Janine, passed away. My mom lived a wonderful and full life - having 4 kids, Taylor, Sean, Emily, myself and having two more upon marrying Pooldad, Delaney and Tucker. (not quite in that order) We all loved her very much and while some of us have been separated for some time, we will continue to love her everyday. For those of you who have been around, you know she wanted no more than to take care of us kids and do her best to make us all happy. Some of you have become so close to my mom, and me and my family cannot thank you enough for being there for her during those times when she needed you most, or even in some cases, when we were making mistakes. That being said, we received all of your thoughts and prayers and feel love from all over the country. (and from some of our foreign country tadpoles too <3 nbsp="" p="">
Most of you know from reading her blog that she was never in the best shape, because she was rather sick. There is no doubt in our minds, she always did her best for all of us, and she'll be in our thoughts everyday and we know she'll be there looking over us.
Thank you all again for being there and making my mom happy and sharing your lives with us, because you all are family too.
Mom, you skipped through a beautiful life, and we'll see you again.
Tadpoles, we may update every now and again, but until then, thanks for everything.
Love Always,
Skippy and Family
Thursday, November 5, 2015
Sunday, October 11, 2015
Say your prayers, my friends
Hi my friends. This is Emily, one of Skippy's daughters. Mom is ill and in the hospital, but she is a FIGHTER and we are all hoping for the best. We are not posting anything on facebook for privacy reasons. Please say a prayer and send positive thoughts.
Much love, Emily
P.S. For those of you that have my father's phone and email, you are welcome to communicate with him.
Much love, Emily
P.S. For those of you that have my father's phone and email, you are welcome to communicate with him.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
Frick and Frack
As my mom used to say.
It's what she called my brother and me when we used to get into mischief.
Well. . . y'all know me. I am a big dog kind of girl. Dachshunds are the exception, hence Spot the Dot, but my preference is to have big dogs. My favorite breed is the Chesapeake Bay Retriever. And that explains my little pony, Scoobers and his predecessor, my beloved Rudy.
But now? Even Spottie is too much for me. She weighs about 22 lbs, which is a fine weight for her breed of standard size, but heaven forbid she try to sit in my lap or jump up on my legs for a treat. She has never been a jumper except with me and now I can't change that behavior. She is 11 years old and really it's not a problem, but the constant pain doesn't allow me to enjoy her like I wish.
Don't get me wrong. Spot is my savior on all days and I would NEVER give her up. And if our history of having dachshunds is any indication she will live 5 or 6 more years. Steven is convinced the girl is going to break the record for longest lived Dachshund at 22 years 5 months just to spite him.
hee
But yesterday we were gifted with a new family member. And to tell you the truth Tadpoles I never thought I would see the day I had a dog smaller than Spottie. Or that I would agree to rescue yet another animal and in this case, a breed of dog I am not particularly fond of.
Yes gang...our newest family member is a Chihuahua named Bentley.
And he is a kick! He is one year old and came from a friend of ours whose Grandmother raised him from a puppy. She recently had a stroke and was moved into different living arrangements where taking care of Bentley would be impossible.
So....being home all day the grandkids decided our family [me!] was a good fit. They gave us Bentley, his cage, his dishes...basically everything, for free, knowing we would give him a loving home.
He fits in perfectly [well....don't ask the cat] but Spot loves him, as he loves her. He is caged trained and knows his commands. I am truly impressed at how well he is doing after one day, and being only one year old. So a big bravo to Grandma.
Please understand that no pup or kitty could replace my Spotters in my heart. She comes first above all our pets, but I think she's kind of happy to have a new partner in crime I hope so at least.
And now? I have a new lap doggie who doesn't weigh too much. Yippy Skippy.
And that is what's happening in the pond Tadpoles. Hope y'all are safe and dry. The weather sure is being it's wicked self this week, isn't it?
Take care and we'll talk soon. I'm off to find the Snickers, our cat and try and console her. :D
Smile loudly. Life is such a gift.
Oh - and the "Frick and Frack" title? Yeah, that is what I call the two dogs. giggle
It's what she called my brother and me when we used to get into mischief.
Well. . . y'all know me. I am a big dog kind of girl. Dachshunds are the exception, hence Spot the Dot, but my preference is to have big dogs. My favorite breed is the Chesapeake Bay Retriever. And that explains my little pony, Scoobers and his predecessor, my beloved Rudy.
But now? Even Spottie is too much for me. She weighs about 22 lbs, which is a fine weight for her breed of standard size, but heaven forbid she try to sit in my lap or jump up on my legs for a treat. She has never been a jumper except with me and now I can't change that behavior. She is 11 years old and really it's not a problem, but the constant pain doesn't allow me to enjoy her like I wish.
Don't get me wrong. Spot is my savior on all days and I would NEVER give her up. And if our history of having dachshunds is any indication she will live 5 or 6 more years. Steven is convinced the girl is going to break the record for longest lived Dachshund at 22 years 5 months just to spite him.
hee
But yesterday we were gifted with a new family member. And to tell you the truth Tadpoles I never thought I would see the day I had a dog smaller than Spottie. Or that I would agree to rescue yet another animal and in this case, a breed of dog I am not particularly fond of.
Yes gang...our newest family member is a Chihuahua named Bentley.
And he is a kick! He is one year old and came from a friend of ours whose Grandmother raised him from a puppy. She recently had a stroke and was moved into different living arrangements where taking care of Bentley would be impossible.
So....being home all day the grandkids decided our family [me!] was a good fit. They gave us Bentley, his cage, his dishes...basically everything, for free, knowing we would give him a loving home.
He fits in perfectly [well....don't ask the cat] but Spot loves him, as he loves her. He is caged trained and knows his commands. I am truly impressed at how well he is doing after one day, and being only one year old. So a big bravo to Grandma.
Please understand that no pup or kitty could replace my Spotters in my heart. She comes first above all our pets, but I think she's kind of happy to have a new partner in crime I hope so at least.
And now? I have a new lap doggie who doesn't weigh too much. Yippy Skippy.
And that is what's happening in the pond Tadpoles. Hope y'all are safe and dry. The weather sure is being it's wicked self this week, isn't it?
Take care and we'll talk soon. I'm off to find the Snickers, our cat and try and console her. :D
Smile loudly. Life is such a gift.
Oh - and the "Frick and Frack" title? Yeah, that is what I call the two dogs. giggle
Sunday, May 24, 2015
There is Happy in this Post
I should be asleep and drooling in my chair. heehee - But I promise this is all good. Especially the middle few paragraphs.
So that was some mental pic', eh? Sorry about that - it's just that my new meds [again!surprise!] have given me the unavoidable side effect of falling asleep mid sentence, no matter where I am, regardless of who is around or what I am doing.
Yeah, It also means Skippy doesn't drive anymore. Which, some of you know, isn't such a bad thing because I gave Ozcarz to Wallene for her 17th birthday so I really don't have anything to drive anyway. hee.
It's a good thing I suppose. And it's the Lyrica that is doing it. You know that nightmare inducing drug? Well. . .I figured out what the problem was with it and why it was giving me such awful nightmares. The doctors had prescribed Dilaudid with it. It's a narcotic that I seem to be highly allergic to, in that - I do really strange things when I take it. One time they mixed it with sleeping pills while I was in the hospital and [my hand to God] I removed my IV and tried to escape from the hospital. I just thought I could go home. I was pretty desperate to get home [you all know how much I hate hospitals]. That is until the big burly security guard, my husband and my two young daughters pried me off the front doors of the hospital and escorted me back to my room where I passed out. I woke up later restrained to the bed.
If nothing else I lead an interesting life. giggle
Okay, where was I? So, I figured this out. Dilaudid = bad, Lyrica on it's own or combined with morphine = good. The morphine doesn't help with the pain so much [not like the Lyrica does] but it has the added benefit of giving me energy and keeping me awake. But? It's a narcotic and plbhhhht on that. The Lyrica is fine, on it's own, but it's not narcotic. Yippy Skippy!
I did have a lovely talk with a very kind High School friend [Hi JPS!] and when she called one evening she told me all about her nutritionist. I have an appointment at the end of next month. You all know I watch what I eat due to my heart - and you can learn a lot on the internet about eating and reducing symptoms of pain, swelling, flares etc - but I have so many questions as I am discovering a lot of what I thought was good for me [i.e. low in sodium and healthy for others] may be exacerbating my conditions. As I told a fellow Tadpole, lottajoy, I would try voodoo at this point if I thought it would help. No one should have to accept this kind of pain and live like this 24/7. Still, I am thankful that my friend called, so thankful, because eating well makes so much sense and as much as I have tried, it will be nice to see what else I can do from someone who actually is trained to know.
But I am working it Tadpoles - and working it hard. There is so much I want to do and people I love an want to take care of, so we soldier on ::salute::
Aw hell - just know I am thankful that I am still here. I am a very blessed woman. I know that - you know that and thank you God, He knows it too. ::grin::
I do have a bunch of happy stuff to report. As I have said before all of this stuff is on Facebook, so it will be repeats for some of you - but it IS too much fun not to repeat twice. ::wink::
So that was some mental pic', eh? Sorry about that - it's just that my new meds [again!surprise!] have given me the unavoidable side effect of falling asleep mid sentence, no matter where I am, regardless of who is around or what I am doing.
Yeah, It also means Skippy doesn't drive anymore. Which, some of you know, isn't such a bad thing because I gave Ozcarz to Wallene for her 17th birthday so I really don't have anything to drive anyway. hee.
It's a good thing I suppose. And it's the Lyrica that is doing it. You know that nightmare inducing drug? Well. . .I figured out what the problem was with it and why it was giving me such awful nightmares. The doctors had prescribed Dilaudid with it. It's a narcotic that I seem to be highly allergic to, in that - I do really strange things when I take it. One time they mixed it with sleeping pills while I was in the hospital and [my hand to God] I removed my IV and tried to escape from the hospital. I just thought I could go home. I was pretty desperate to get home [you all know how much I hate hospitals]. That is until the big burly security guard, my husband and my two young daughters pried me off the front doors of the hospital and escorted me back to my room where I passed out. I woke up later restrained to the bed.
If nothing else I lead an interesting life. giggle
Okay, where was I? So, I figured this out. Dilaudid = bad, Lyrica on it's own or combined with morphine = good. The morphine doesn't help with the pain so much [not like the Lyrica does] but it has the added benefit of giving me energy and keeping me awake. But? It's a narcotic and plbhhhht on that. The Lyrica is fine, on it's own, but it's not narcotic. Yippy Skippy!
I did have a lovely talk with a very kind High School friend [Hi JPS!] and when she called one evening she told me all about her nutritionist. I have an appointment at the end of next month. You all know I watch what I eat due to my heart - and you can learn a lot on the internet about eating and reducing symptoms of pain, swelling, flares etc - but I have so many questions as I am discovering a lot of what I thought was good for me [i.e. low in sodium and healthy for others] may be exacerbating my conditions. As I told a fellow Tadpole, lottajoy, I would try voodoo at this point if I thought it would help. No one should have to accept this kind of pain and live like this 24/7. Still, I am thankful that my friend called, so thankful, because eating well makes so much sense and as much as I have tried, it will be nice to see what else I can do from someone who actually is trained to know.
But I am working it Tadpoles - and working it hard. There is so much I want to do and people I love an want to take care of, so we soldier on ::salute::
Aw hell - just know I am thankful that I am still here. I am a very blessed woman. I know that - you know that and thank you God, He knows it too. ::grin::
I do have a bunch of happy stuff to report. As I have said before all of this stuff is on Facebook, so it will be repeats for some of you - but it IS too much fun not to repeat twice. ::wink::
- At the top of the list, bestest thing ever, our Squirrel graduated from James Madison University on May 9th of this year. We were busting with happiness [and pride] for her - and had a nice lunch before her and Wallene left on a trip to a local amusement park to celebrate with friends. She is packing up her apartment and will be leaving for graduate school next month. Can you believe it?
Momma [out of her wheelchair momentarily], Squirrel and Wallene - Now, Wallene? She graduates High School next month and will be attending Virginia Commonwealth University's School of the Arts in the fall. Which, again, makes us very proud, but leaves Steven and me a little sad because it is going to be so quiet around here come September. I think I am going to end up being one needy froglet then. Anyone have a kid they would care to .....I don't know....drop off for an extended visit in the hills of Virginia? hee
Yes, This graduates in less than 3 weeks. Where did the time go? - Steven and I celebrated out 20th anniversary this month. I don't know if that makes us crazy, considering what we have been through in 20 years, or crazy in love. But he is truly my bestest friend and I have never had someone love and care for me so much - even at my darkest. I love you baby ::waving:: I just betcha' we make it 20 more, don't you?
Anniversary roses in my favorite color!
Big days ahead. We still stand to lose the house, but Steven and I are taking it one day at a time. We aren't looking forward to downsizing and all the packing it entails to move to a smaller home, but as with everything we are up against, we will do it. We always do. We are just waiting and working on getting Wallene to the University before we have to leave this home. It makes me a wee bit sad, because gosh knows I love this place and our neighbors - but then I say my prayers and realize a cardboard box could be home for us, as long as we are together. I do laugh to myself when I mention the cardboard box thing because at the bleakest Steven or I will say to the other "I could live in a cardboard box with you." It's simply a different way to say "I love you" and realize what our priorities actually are. He has worked so hard his whole life, and has been amply rewarded for it, but being up against all of this now has depleted everything we every thought we would have at this point. But? All the kids are safe, healthy and hopefully very happy [they tell me they are!] and Steven and I are here, now and together. Forever.
And that my friends is reason to Skippyhappydance, even if the world is crumbling.
'Cause you know? It could be worse. I never forget that.
And that my friends is reason to Skippyhappydance, even if the world is crumbling.
'Cause you know? It could be worse. I never forget that.
Smile loudly - Life is a gift. A big, fat gift with shiny paper and a red bow. Enjoy your Sunday. I will see you on the flipside Tadpoles as I feel the drool ::giggle:: coming on...gotta' go!
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
How Willing Am I?
To save my marriage and my family?
This willing.
I know it sounds dramatic - but that's me "Skippy the drama Queen" - tough rocks. I don't care.
I have spoken of pain before. I have talked about the debilitating effects of conditions I didn't even know I had - only to discover the stuff was real and nothing was touching it.
SURPRISE!!
I have a new pain that makes RA seem like birthday cake - with sprinkles and candles, no less - but this HURTS. It is beyond hurting. This is a slamming door to the point you separate the door frame from the wall, you cry for 20 hours a day and wake up after a four hour nap knowing you cried in your sleep because your face is still wet. The kind of pain where you scream at your husband and your daughter because they are not getting it.
They have that stupid pain scale, right? The one that comes out of the doctor's mouth as "So on a scale of one to ten, where is your pain?" and they show that inane chart with the withering smiley faces? I have gotten to the point where I look at them and say "Where is the one with tire marks running across it's face and Xs for eyes? THAT IS MY PAIN." [They usually step away at that point, but I promise I am saying it quietly and without my eyes rolling back in my head.] I told the doctor and my nurses one time that I considered childbirth to be a 4, at the worst - and for me, and four kids? Yep that works. They shook their heads and went to correct me. I stopped the doctor from telling me "Oh no, ALL childbirth is at LEAST a 6." I wanted to scream "Who the fuck are you and when is the last time you pushed a watermelon out of your body? IT IS NOT." Sorry - but it pisses me off to be corrected when people who don't live in MY body but are book educated try to explain PAIN to me.
YOU, doctor sir, have no idea. No one has any idea and it is simply one more area where I am completely isolated from everyone and everything.
I am fed up with being asked if I am suicidal. I retort "Why? Why do you ask? Do I look depressed? Act depressed? You bet your fucking socks that I am as depressed as I AM - but NO I AM NOT suicidal. Had I been I would've shot myself long ago." Yeesh. I don't want more meds - I want LESS - I want to know how to FIX THIS. No human being, living creature - oh hell - nothing should live like this. [As this is a blog I feel the need to point out that I am NOT diminishing other's struggles with mental health and suicidal feelings. They are real and their worlds, and I pray that they get the help they should have been allowed a long time ago -but? I am not chemically imbalanced. I am worn down and desperate from fatigue, pain and isolation.]
YET? I do LIVE LIKE THIS. And you all see me play nicely and happily in the sandbox over on Facebook - but what you don't realize when I am talking about Evie's prom dress? Or Emily's graduation? While typing that, I have tears pouring down my face. When I speak of our 20th anniversary in less than two weeks? My heart is happy but I am contemplating whether or not I can catch the garbage truck barreling down our street to just step in front of it. At this point I think the mail truck could do a fair job. Considering. The weight is going south AGAIN and Steven is starting his whole "I can tell her she is pretty. . . BUT? She looks like hell" marathon.
Put your thumb and forefinger around your wrist. Make them touch. Okay? You shouldn't have a gap between your fingers and your skin on your wrist, or a smallish one if you are small boned.
Me? I can fit a fucking SNICKERS bar in the gap between my fingers and my wrist. The only weight I have on me now is due to swelling and water retention.
Oh joy - oh thrill - let's do the happy dance. ::and the sarcasm drips, drips....and then it pours.::
So what am I willing to do now to alleviate this pain? To get me back to being marginally me?
I am going to take Lyrica again.
Even typing those words scare the living crap out of me. If any Tadpole remembers the last time I took that drug I had such severe nightmares that Steven had to come home from work to help me. He could not convince me that the older kids weren't hurt or dead. I kept dreaming that Dee, Tee, Jr. and Squirrel had been [for lack of a better word] slaughtered. And I couldn't help them. Save them. These nightmares left me screaming, unable to wake myself up that my 13 year old daughter had to come into my room and physically shake me as hard as she could, hurting me, to get me out of the fugue I was experiencing.
Steven and I finally decided that it was time I picked. Functionality or debilitating pain? Nightmares or me?
I picked pain free with the added gift of bloody nightmares. Wish me luck while I figure out how not to sleep until they can reduce this swelling and take the damage away.
I tried to do happy Tadpoles. You simply have no idea right now how I can't. I am so sorry.
This willing.
 |
| What debilitating pain looks like. The warmth of my husband holding me helps. |
I know it sounds dramatic - but that's me "Skippy the drama Queen" - tough rocks. I don't care.
I have spoken of pain before. I have talked about the debilitating effects of conditions I didn't even know I had - only to discover the stuff was real and nothing was touching it.
SURPRISE!!
I have a new pain that makes RA seem like birthday cake - with sprinkles and candles, no less - but this HURTS. It is beyond hurting. This is a slamming door to the point you separate the door frame from the wall, you cry for 20 hours a day and wake up after a four hour nap knowing you cried in your sleep because your face is still wet. The kind of pain where you scream at your husband and your daughter because they are not getting it.
They have that stupid pain scale, right? The one that comes out of the doctor's mouth as "So on a scale of one to ten, where is your pain?" and they show that inane chart with the withering smiley faces? I have gotten to the point where I look at them and say "Where is the one with tire marks running across it's face and Xs for eyes? THAT IS MY PAIN." [They usually step away at that point, but I promise I am saying it quietly and without my eyes rolling back in my head.] I told the doctor and my nurses one time that I considered childbirth to be a 4, at the worst - and for me, and four kids? Yep that works. They shook their heads and went to correct me. I stopped the doctor from telling me "Oh no, ALL childbirth is at LEAST a 6." I wanted to scream "Who the fuck are you and when is the last time you pushed a watermelon out of your body? IT IS NOT." Sorry - but it pisses me off to be corrected when people who don't live in MY body but are book educated try to explain PAIN to me.
YOU, doctor sir, have no idea. No one has any idea and it is simply one more area where I am completely isolated from everyone and everything.
I am fed up with being asked if I am suicidal. I retort "Why? Why do you ask? Do I look depressed? Act depressed? You bet your fucking socks that I am as depressed as I AM - but NO I AM NOT suicidal. Had I been I would've shot myself long ago." Yeesh. I don't want more meds - I want LESS - I want to know how to FIX THIS. No human being, living creature - oh hell - nothing should live like this. [As this is a blog I feel the need to point out that I am NOT diminishing other's struggles with mental health and suicidal feelings. They are real and their worlds, and I pray that they get the help they should have been allowed a long time ago -but? I am not chemically imbalanced. I am worn down and desperate from fatigue, pain and isolation.]
YET? I do LIVE LIKE THIS. And you all see me play nicely and happily in the sandbox over on Facebook - but what you don't realize when I am talking about Evie's prom dress? Or Emily's graduation? While typing that, I have tears pouring down my face. When I speak of our 20th anniversary in less than two weeks? My heart is happy but I am contemplating whether or not I can catch the garbage truck barreling down our street to just step in front of it. At this point I think the mail truck could do a fair job. Considering. The weight is going south AGAIN and Steven is starting his whole "I can tell her she is pretty. . . BUT? She looks like hell" marathon.
Put your thumb and forefinger around your wrist. Make them touch. Okay? You shouldn't have a gap between your fingers and your skin on your wrist, or a smallish one if you are small boned.
Me? I can fit a fucking SNICKERS bar in the gap between my fingers and my wrist. The only weight I have on me now is due to swelling and water retention.
Oh joy - oh thrill - let's do the happy dance. ::and the sarcasm drips, drips....and then it pours.::
So what am I willing to do now to alleviate this pain? To get me back to being marginally me?
I am going to take Lyrica again.
Even typing those words scare the living crap out of me. If any Tadpole remembers the last time I took that drug I had such severe nightmares that Steven had to come home from work to help me. He could not convince me that the older kids weren't hurt or dead. I kept dreaming that Dee, Tee, Jr. and Squirrel had been [for lack of a better word] slaughtered. And I couldn't help them. Save them. These nightmares left me screaming, unable to wake myself up that my 13 year old daughter had to come into my room and physically shake me as hard as she could, hurting me, to get me out of the fugue I was experiencing.
Steven and I finally decided that it was time I picked. Functionality or debilitating pain? Nightmares or me?
I picked pain free with the added gift of bloody nightmares. Wish me luck while I figure out how not to sleep until they can reduce this swelling and take the damage away.
I tried to do happy Tadpoles. You simply have no idea right now how I can't. I am so sorry.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
It's My Biannual "I'm Not Dead Yet" Post
::waving furiously::
If you are on FB or talk to me via email - most of you know I'm still alive and kicking - but not everyone does that, and I truly understand - but thought I better get something up here and let you all know I am thinking of you. 'Cause I am Tadpoles - I most certainly am.
It has been an exhausting last couple of months. Steven is at the end of his tether with all of the woes associated with my health and the cost of it all. Meanwhile, I am plain old worn out from being sick.
I am so tired of being sick - and having it define every step I take every moment of every day. I am weary of talking about it. I am nauseous looking at our bills from it and lay awake nights knowing come March 30 our health insurance rates go up, and a new round of deductibles kicks in, so we start over again.
If it wasn't for the generosity of a very loving Tadpole, Bizzy - we would have had no hope of a Christmas for Evelyn, nor would I have had my most valuable and expensive medication these past few months. What is so surprising about it all is I have no idea how Bizzy knew we were in such dire straits, but these surprise packages would show up randomly in the mail [snowmen included! :) ] just when I thought all hope was lost. She is truly an answer to all the prayers I say at night. Thank you Bizzy - I truly have no words for the extension you have given us.
Speaking of special packages in the mail. My sweetheart of a friend and Tadpole, Mare, went on vacation for 3 weeks to Key West Florida. Not only did I receive daily updates via email of her consumption of Key Lime Pie [all time favorite] but she sent me the coolest care package from FL - including a pamphlet on manatees and a t-shirt that I had to hide from Evelyn. giggle Thank you Mare - truly brightened my dreary days.
So - now....here comes the hard part of this post. Steven and I have come to a very difficult decision, knowing we have to keep all the insurance we have and be able to afford my medications.
We have to move. Again. We already left Sterling, VA two years ago because we couldn't afford the cost of living after our landlords needed their house back and we couldn't find another one in the same range. So we moved 100 miles from Steven's work just to be able to afford a place to live, not realizing 6 months after we moved in our insurance rates would double and then our deductibles for doctors' visits, medications and hospitalizations would go beyond the stratosphere.
We can't afford both this house and my [sketch] health. Sometimes I look at Steven and say "Sorry I didn't die already. This wouldn't be a problem and you could keep the house." I cry as I write that because it does sound pathetic, but I understand what I am costing my family. And it crushes me, because I know, I DO KNOW, that they would rather have me here than gone. But what good is being here for them if we can't keep a roof over our heads.
We could handily afford this home when we moved in, otherwise we wouldn't have gotten it. We have 0 - yes ZERO credit card debt. We pay for our home, the utilities [electric, water, house phone and internet] one car payment [Oscar] and car insurance. We don't go on vacations. We don't buy clothes or presents or go out to eat - ever. This is the first year since I had kids that they didn't [in this case, just Evelyn] get new school clothes for school. I just don't understand why, except that the insurance and pharmaceutical companies are greedy bastards and we are suddenly lower middle class because of it.
Please don't misunderstand - I am, I truly AM grateful for all that I have, but I don't get this. How can my husband have worked so hard for 4 decades, be 4 years from retirement and by the time we get there he won't have anything to retire on?
I have searched high and low for a place to cut our housing expense, but keep Steven close to his work. We can forget the "close to work" part of this equation. It simply can't be done. Nothing within less than a hundred mile radius is cheaper than the home we live in now. And we have agreed with Emily graduating and Evie going off to college we we would downsize to a 2 bedroom, 1 bath if we could find something that cut our costs and we could get closer to work.
HAHAHAHAHAHA! I have been looking for over 6 months, and the bottom line is - you are just gong to love this - the closest I can get Steven to work and cut our payments on housing down is to move him and me to Harrisonburg, VA. Why is this so funny to me? It is the town where Emily's college is located. The town where we have been visiting her for 5 years. Nice town. BUT? We have found a few condos that would suit our needs [of size and cost] but it is 115 miles from my husband's work.
I am sure some of you are questioning why Steven doesn't simply find new employment. First, he has been in this business for almost 40 years. It is a specialized industry and to be able to afford health insurance, he needs to work where the $$ is - meaning where the pools are. There are not a whole lot of expensive, in ground pools in central Virginia. Second, as I mentioned, he is 59 years old [in July] and in his industry he is quite well known and could find a job BUT it would be in the same geographic location of the one he has now [remember, nice expensive pools that people pay a lot of money to have others play pool cleaner]. We did talk about him branching out and trying to find a job in management in another field, since he has been in the office managing for 30 years, but no one wants to hire a 59 year old man, regardless of his experience especially if he hasn't worked in their industry.
See the problem here? And if it sounds as though I am whining, so be it - I'm not. It's just the explanation of the reality of our life right now.
I am a fortunate woman in that I have the love and support of my Tadpoles and my family. In addition I have my faith - these things sustain me. More than anyone realizes I think, because somedays I fall asleep, despite the pain and hope that it's the last time I close my eyes. I know what I have, I do sweet friends - but it's getting so hard to sustain it while we ponder a future we never realized we were going to have.
Thanks for listening - I have lots of new recipes and tidbits to share, but this is foremost in my mind. So this is whatcha' get. ::wink:: I am Skippy - I will always be Skippy - and the 'ol me shall return. Soon. I am sure of it.
Thank you again. We'll see ya' on the flipside froglets and don't forget to smile loudly. Life is truly a gift.
Just being goofy!
If you are on FB or talk to me via email - most of you know I'm still alive and kicking - but not everyone does that, and I truly understand - but thought I better get something up here and let you all know I am thinking of you. 'Cause I am Tadpoles - I most certainly am.
It has been an exhausting last couple of months. Steven is at the end of his tether with all of the woes associated with my health and the cost of it all. Meanwhile, I am plain old worn out from being sick.
I am so tired of being sick - and having it define every step I take every moment of every day. I am weary of talking about it. I am nauseous looking at our bills from it and lay awake nights knowing come March 30 our health insurance rates go up, and a new round of deductibles kicks in, so we start over again.
If it wasn't for the generosity of a very loving Tadpole, Bizzy - we would have had no hope of a Christmas for Evelyn, nor would I have had my most valuable and expensive medication these past few months. What is so surprising about it all is I have no idea how Bizzy knew we were in such dire straits, but these surprise packages would show up randomly in the mail [snowmen included! :) ] just when I thought all hope was lost. She is truly an answer to all the prayers I say at night. Thank you Bizzy - I truly have no words for the extension you have given us.
Speaking of special packages in the mail. My sweetheart of a friend and Tadpole, Mare, went on vacation for 3 weeks to Key West Florida. Not only did I receive daily updates via email of her consumption of Key Lime Pie [all time favorite] but she sent me the coolest care package from FL - including a pamphlet on manatees and a t-shirt that I had to hide from Evelyn. giggle Thank you Mare - truly brightened my dreary days.
So - now....here comes the hard part of this post. Steven and I have come to a very difficult decision, knowing we have to keep all the insurance we have and be able to afford my medications.
We have to move. Again. We already left Sterling, VA two years ago because we couldn't afford the cost of living after our landlords needed their house back and we couldn't find another one in the same range. So we moved 100 miles from Steven's work just to be able to afford a place to live, not realizing 6 months after we moved in our insurance rates would double and then our deductibles for doctors' visits, medications and hospitalizations would go beyond the stratosphere.
We can't afford both this house and my [sketch] health. Sometimes I look at Steven and say "Sorry I didn't die already. This wouldn't be a problem and you could keep the house." I cry as I write that because it does sound pathetic, but I understand what I am costing my family. And it crushes me, because I know, I DO KNOW, that they would rather have me here than gone. But what good is being here for them if we can't keep a roof over our heads.
We could handily afford this home when we moved in, otherwise we wouldn't have gotten it. We have 0 - yes ZERO credit card debt. We pay for our home, the utilities [electric, water, house phone and internet] one car payment [Oscar] and car insurance. We don't go on vacations. We don't buy clothes or presents or go out to eat - ever. This is the first year since I had kids that they didn't [in this case, just Evelyn] get new school clothes for school. I just don't understand why, except that the insurance and pharmaceutical companies are greedy bastards and we are suddenly lower middle class because of it.
Please don't misunderstand - I am, I truly AM grateful for all that I have, but I don't get this. How can my husband have worked so hard for 4 decades, be 4 years from retirement and by the time we get there he won't have anything to retire on?
I have searched high and low for a place to cut our housing expense, but keep Steven close to his work. We can forget the "close to work" part of this equation. It simply can't be done. Nothing within less than a hundred mile radius is cheaper than the home we live in now. And we have agreed with Emily graduating and Evie going off to college we we would downsize to a 2 bedroom, 1 bath if we could find something that cut our costs and we could get closer to work.
HAHAHAHAHAHA! I have been looking for over 6 months, and the bottom line is - you are just gong to love this - the closest I can get Steven to work and cut our payments on housing down is to move him and me to Harrisonburg, VA. Why is this so funny to me? It is the town where Emily's college is located. The town where we have been visiting her for 5 years. Nice town. BUT? We have found a few condos that would suit our needs [of size and cost] but it is 115 miles from my husband's work.
I am sure some of you are questioning why Steven doesn't simply find new employment. First, he has been in this business for almost 40 years. It is a specialized industry and to be able to afford health insurance, he needs to work where the $$ is - meaning where the pools are. There are not a whole lot of expensive, in ground pools in central Virginia. Second, as I mentioned, he is 59 years old [in July] and in his industry he is quite well known and could find a job BUT it would be in the same geographic location of the one he has now [remember, nice expensive pools that people pay a lot of money to have others play pool cleaner]. We did talk about him branching out and trying to find a job in management in another field, since he has been in the office managing for 30 years, but no one wants to hire a 59 year old man, regardless of his experience especially if he hasn't worked in their industry.
See the problem here? And if it sounds as though I am whining, so be it - I'm not. It's just the explanation of the reality of our life right now.
I am a fortunate woman in that I have the love and support of my Tadpoles and my family. In addition I have my faith - these things sustain me. More than anyone realizes I think, because somedays I fall asleep, despite the pain and hope that it's the last time I close my eyes. I know what I have, I do sweet friends - but it's getting so hard to sustain it while we ponder a future we never realized we were going to have.
Thanks for listening - I have lots of new recipes and tidbits to share, but this is foremost in my mind. So this is whatcha' get. ::wink:: I am Skippy - I will always be Skippy - and the 'ol me shall return. Soon. I am sure of it.
Thank you again. We'll see ya' on the flipside froglets and don't forget to smile loudly. Life is truly a gift.
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