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Tuesday already?

Yesterday I spent a great deal of time (out at the house by the sound) editing, revising, and writing, as I watched my two boys and Ashley. When I got home, we ate dinner and I spent three more hours editing three pages. Three hours. Three pages. Goodness.

However, I have to say that I am reveling in this experience and learning so much as I go.

I also called the brother of the man in prison for killing my friend. No big surprise that he didn't care to talk to me. I have to say though, that speaking to him made me nervous.

I couldn't sleep last night because of the heat and it didn't help that somehow the dog was outside our window barking at 3a.m. When I got up to bring her in, I really woke up so I simply stayed up and did more writing.

This morning at ten Ashley had a physical therapy apppointment at the CTU with Erika and it was a good hour. She (Erika) asked me to get Ashley to her Orthopedist so we could get x-rays of her hips to determine for sure what is causing the problems. I called Dr. Song's office up at Children's Hospital in Seattle and made an appointment. He's always hard to get in to see and they were booking out to October. So she's got an Oct. 10 appt for now. Then I called our PCP (Primary care physician) in order for them to fax a perscription to the CTU so they can begin work on Ashley's hand brace/splint and make a referral for her to see Dr. Song in October.

So many hoops to walk through in this dance of disability.

Ashley has agreed on a daily course of action which requires me to help her stretch and improve the muscle strength on her right side. I generally stetch and massage her each night before bedtime, but this routine is much more time intensive and involved.

My seven year old angel is going to have an interesting path in life.

After the therapy session, we went to Costco to charge some food. Now we have full cupboards again! Yay! Well, sort of semi-full.

And now, it's back to work.


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A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

Elderly Abuse

I heard a loud thud the other morning around 3:30 a.m. I checked my monitor but he'd once again turned it to the wall so I was unable to see if he was still in bed. I went downstairs right behind my sweet husband and dad was on the living room floor moaning and holding his head. He'd fallen. Hard.

The first picture is the day of the fall. The second is the day after. The black eye keeps blossoming. He has a gash on his head, hidden by his silver hair and he skinned his shoulder/arm. He's a mess.

Was he using his walker? Nope. 85 year old toddlers cannot be told what to do. Or rather, they can be told what to do, they simply won't comply. Ever. In fact they get down right angry and throw fits. It's not pretty.

His physical therapist came to the house the next day and strongly told him to use his walker EACH TIME HE STOOD UP. Has he? Nope. Nyet. He was very angry with me yesterday because I kept asking him to use his walker. Also, I asked him i…



Back on the horse
Monkey on his back
I see no light
Not even a crack
Back to delusions
Back to the lies
I see through his words
He can't hear my cries

Back into his soul
Back into his veins
The poison he pours
Dark liquid his chains

Backed into a corner
Heartbroken and torn
Back into the needle
The eye of the storm

Back to the wall
Soul bruised torn and broken
Back to my pain
His eyes half open

Back into the horror
Will he ever come back
Back into the nightmare
A needle in a sack

Back into his childhood
I loved him with fury
Looking back on his life
His choices my jury

How did this happen
Back to evil and sin
How can he do this
Lines on his skin

Back to my weeping
Back to my sorrow
My son, my love,
Has no more tomorrows
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