Skip to main content


My entire digestive tract has been in spasm since last night. I really thought I was going to toss my cookies around 3 a.m. so I went downstairs as quickly as I could (the bathroom upstairs isn't working) and then I lay on the couch for a few hours in pain.


The girls wanted to get out for a while and do something while we had the car. (Have I mentioned that having just one vehicle is horrible??) so we went down to the humane society to get a dog license for Cassie and look at all the cute doggies and kitties there. Then we stopped at Safeway to get some drinks and went to Carkeek Park for a few minutes before we had to get home and get hubby off to work. I never got out of the car at the store or the park. I was in too much pain. Talking hurt. Breathing wasn't much better. I took two sips of water and thought I had swallowed razor blades.

No, not my best day ever.

I then slept for a while at home. Home. I guess I mean my Dad's house. Is this my home? I'm struggling here...and for reasons I'd rather not go into in a public way.

I feel badly for my girls when I'm like this and can't even be there for them or do things with them.

And if we don't get another car or find a way to get him to work via carpool, camel or magic carpet, I'm going to lose what's left of my mind.


  1. Sypathy on the health front.

    Get him a bike.

  2. Dear Pamela,

    I sure hope you get back to feeling better soon. I was up in your part of the woods not long ago and thought of you... figured you didn't need any extra stuff on your plate so I didn't email you...

    Your part of the country is so beautiful... made all the more lovely because you live there. Hope to visit again soon.

    Chin up and know you are in my prayers. Hugs

  3. Dave, thank you. I hope your health is improving as well. How are things on that front?

    Kindness, you were here? And no email???? Girl, next time you let me know. No matter how much I have on my plate, I still have time to meet with dear friends.

    As for feeling better, I awoke with a migraine this morning, which then turned into an ocular migraine wherein I lost vision for a bit. That was fun. Now the painful migraine has returned.

    Really, I love stress. It's a wonderful thing. Truly.


Post a Comment

Go ahead....tell me the truth :)

Popular posts from this blog

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…

I'll Love You Forever, I'll Like You For Always...

I rely on the kindness of strangers...

Or not so much strangers as readers of my miserable blog.

I received a beautiful card in the mail from my long-tine reader (perhaps my ONLY reader) that lifted my heart. Thank you, G. Parkes. It was kind of you to think of me. Seriously---you are so sweet. Thank you.

Perhaps we can meet in person one day. I'll be in Utah after Conference. We'll see how it goes.

I've been caring for my autistic grandson since July. It seems longer sometimes---and that's not a complaint. I adore this little man. He holds my heart. He fills my arms and my heart in the way that my own small babies used to do. When mine reached the age where they didn't want to be in my arms any longer, I felt their absence. Their absence from my arms was heavier than actually having them in my arms. It was an ache that is difficult to describe, a phantom pain where something once was but now is no longer.

Before my husband and I went to the cabin th…