Cardboard and wooden boxes.
I can’t wait for this year to fuck all the way off.
My cat.
My Mom.
My Dog.
Are all in boxes on my dresser.
Within 5 months.
Pheonix two days before the Holiday, and 20 after my Mom.
I can’t even think about Pheonix without losing my mind. Ugh.
I got nothing.
Fuck off 2023
Catriona
(Trigger Warning. All the death. Seriously, just don’t even bother with this one. I wrote it as soon as I got home the day my mother died because I had to get it out. I’ve left some pretty terrible parts out. Things I don’t ever want those who loved her to ever read should they stumble upon this. No one needs to carry that, but me.)
So my mom is gone.
On my way to see her Tues night, I received a call from the night RN. She wanted to know if I had stopped in yet to see my mom, and if I had seen the condition she was in. The RN was ripping mad because my mom was not able to follow commands and had apparently been that way for some time. Day shift didn’t include that when they gave report, nor did they notify me.
When I arrived she was laying sideways across the bed. She would pay attention when she heard my voice but was not able to follow commands or answer. I immediately called hospice. I sat with my hand on her head for a long time. If I asked her a question she would grunt an answer or acknowledge me. She just kind of stared off into space.
I called my brother while at her bedside. He immediately asked if she had died. I told him no. But she was close. I explained the situation all with my hand on her head.
I made arrangements for her to go to Hospice House and started to pack her belongings. I dropped a large box of Christmas decorations on the floor. It made a really loud noise. My mom suddenly looked over and said “What was that?” and then she was awake. She was confused but cognitive.
I packed her stuff up around her, and as I did the more awake and clear she became. Transport put her on the ambulance to transport her to Hospice while I told her I was right behind her, I would meet her there. She said the most confident “I know” I’d ever heard. I called my brother again to tell him she was back, but that it could be just a surge.
When I got to the new facility, she was wide awake and upset. They had cleaned her and removed her socks. She was in pain.
At one point they had to lay her on her back to clean her. She couldn’t breathe in that position and was panicking. She was yelling and fight the RNs. I just remember her staring at me and saying “Catriona, help me”. I don’t think I will ever forget that.
She slept most of the night which was weird for her. We both got up around 6:30am. She was in excruciating pain. We waited a long while for pain meds. Around 10:30 she had finally had her pain meds and was settled enough I felt comfortable running home to change and grab the pillow she wanted. I leaned over her bed and told her I was going to change and that I’d be back really soon. She asked me where I was going and I told her. As I was walking out of the door she said “I’m sorry you are chained to this place”. I responded “Wherever you are, is where I want to be”, and I left. That was the last real conversation we had.
I wasn’t gone long. I went home and changed. I stopped and grabbed her a new pillow and some flamless candles. A few months ago when she was first admitted to the nursing home, I had brought her some candle holders to hang on the wall and added flameless candles that I would change out with the season. She absolutely loved them. I left the ones on the wall when I moved her to the Hospice House so I wanted to get a pair for her new room. As I approached the front door to go back to my mom the RN called me. “There have been some changes with your mom”. Within 30 seconds I was in front of her. Her breathing had changed. She was reverting back to how I had found her the night before.
I sat at her feet, on the bed, for hours. She would open her eyes or mumble and I’d tell her I was there and that she was safe. That I had everything taken care of. She was back to opening her eyes and briefly looking at me when I spoke to her, but she couldn’t respond for the most part. By 6:30pm my brother called. I put him on speaker for him to tell her he loved her. She opened her eyes real wide and tried to speak. After I hung up with him I told her all the things I wanted her to know, and some of the things I knew my brother wanted her to know.
By 7:30pm she started to go. I was quiet other than responding if she moved or grunted because when she heard my voice or if I said “Mom” it was as if I was calling her back and she would stir more like she was fighting it all. And 9:30 she was no longer responding to me. I just continued to hold her hand. By 11:30PM I just got this feeling, so I started talking to her. I told her some of my brother’s most loved memories. I reminded her of all the funny things we did, and the funny things she said to me. I spoke of the things we did as kids. The time she dyed my hair, my ears and the entire back of my neck black. The time we brought her so many wildflowers I couldnt see where I was walking. And then, an hour later, she was gone.
Anyone order a Breakthrough PTSD episode? Anyone? No? Must have been me.
It’s my own fault. I got cocky. I poked the bear too many times in too short of a time period. Coming back here. Reading old entries. Allowing my brain the open that file again. Looking at things I usually avoid.
Cleaning my room out, trying to get rid of things. Somehow my oldest computer is out and my kid is calling my name. I look up and “I found something”. The look on my kid’s face. Sigh.
It was in the disc drive of the computer I’ve avoided for years.
I’m a crying mess. I haven’t been like this in over two years. Turns out I’m not better, I’m just busy. Hahahah. Fuck. FUCK.
Now I’m sleeping (not sleeping at all) next to my laundry because cleaning came to a screeching hault.
Can we not? Can we not do this? Fuckkkkkkkk. It’s 3:56am and I have to be up at 9 for the kid’s ortho and then work. The sky was weird today; I knew I shouldn’t have pushed my luck.
Catriona
Xoxoxo
Holy shit. It’s Friday. I’m wrapped in a burrito blanket (like for real, a burrito blanket. I have two and refuse to sleep without at least one) drinking wine. This week has been fucking brutal. Half my team….. Sigh….nevermind; You’d would have no idea what I was talking about as I haven’t filled you all in on my life.
I’ve been getting a lot of questions about my life and my son since I’ve been gone, since the pandemic. So let’s start here: I work in one of the largest hospitals in the area. The pandemic and I reported for duty the same month. Lmao. I took the job as a side job to the job I already had and to test my brain. If you have been with me over the last 10 years, hospitals used to set off my PTSD. I figured I’d either crumple like a Kmart lawn chair, or stomp my ass forward.
I did both. Crumpled during training. Oh. It was bad. I fell on my face. My body and mind rebelled. I took a week off. I yelled at myself and went back. Then I was good. I was good. Yeah, I was good till I had to report to a trauma room in the ED (ER). Did you know they use the same wooden cabinets in most trauma ED rooms? Yeah, I didn’t either. I looked over at those cabinets and I swear to the stars they looked back. Like they were saying “hey bitch, remember me?”. Oh. I remembered them. I did. I remembered. Good thing Adrenaline kicked in to save me from PTSD so I could focus on the patient in front of me. You know, Trauma room. Ha. And that’s how I powered through every day. PTSD creeping up until Adrenaline focused my attention…. Until I started reporting to ICU. ICU. Sigh. Just arriving on the unit caused PTSD to stand up and get ready to fuck shit up. The first several patients I took care of had her face. They really did. They had her face until one of them coded on me. Then I could see the patient’s face clearly. Turns out, I still perform well under pressure. (Pretty sure this is the only thing I’m good at. Have I every told you guys the story of how my new born tried to die on me while I was bleaching my sister’s hair and I managed to keep him alive and pull the chemicals out of her hair so it didn’t literally burn her hair and scalp off? Lol). A week later a guy coded in my arms. I remember his face clearly.
They stopped having her face after that.
And then, then Covid-19 descended upon us and I couldnt look away. I was in constant high alert. PTSD didn’t even have a chance, Adrenaline took over as soon as I stepped foot into the building. I headed the Covid-19 team for my department and that’s all I did. All day.
About a month into the Pandemic I took advantage and weened myself off the PTSD meds, all of them. While PTSD was pinned to a wall by Adrenaline I figured then was my only chance. It was risky, I had no idea what I was doing but I had this urge that felt like my chest would explode if I didn’t try. . Looking back, ohhhhhh mannnnnn that could have gone sideways in so many ways. Haha. I’m so glad I did it. I’ve been med free since then after more years than I can count.
I ran straight into the center of Covid, I did overtime on top of overtime. At one point, I was the only one left standing when covid took out every single person on my team. I kept on trucking. I volunteered everyday to work with covid patients. I swear I lived at that hospital. Within three months I made permanent (unheard of at the time for my department) within 6 months I was training our new hires to help our Trainer. Shortly after, I became the Trainer for my entire department. Now, I’m a Lead, the Trainer, and the Safety Coach for my department.
I guess what I’m getting at is I’ve worked through COVID-19 since the beginning. I’ve seen some shit. I’ve seen shit go sideways and then do the Morbid Macarena. And this week, this week has been the worst. I’ve never seen so many positive Covid-19 patients. It’s a sea of Red Precautions in our ED (Red airborne signs in the ED). Basically I’ve lived in my Capr; Shit show for sure. Half my team is down due to COVID-19, again. This week has been fucking brutal. So, back to being wrapped up in a burrito drinking wine.
WARNING: Covid-19 Karen behavior will absolutely not be tolerated. I swear to the stars if I get any comments: “Covid-19 isn’t real, it’s a scam, blah blah” or whatever uneducated keyboard warrior bullshit people are spewing I will delete you so fast it will make your head spin to Mars. Then, I won’t think about you again until im calling a code on your infected ass.
Stay safe guys. Wash your hands. Don’t lick any toilet bowls. You know, behave.
Catriona
Xoxoxox
My better half had this weird thing with winning me cows from various fairs, machines, and weird game stands. I don’t even know how it started. Lol. We had two particular stuffed cows that were my favorite Henfers. (Better Half named all cows “Hefner”, it was hilarious). One was obnoxiously large and round. The other was so tiny, you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness. Both Hefners lived on our bed for years.
Unfortunately, I only have one Hefner left. The small one. It’s now locked in a box I had made for my son….I will go into that another time…
Every cow I received had this goofy friggen look on its face. The kind you could be Earth-Shatteringly-Angry, and still couldn’t keep a straight face if you saw one of these things. So, as you can imagine I can’t see a cow, even a real cow, without laughing like an idiot. Every. Damn. Time. It’s made worse if the cow desides to throw a “Moo” at me. I can’t see a cow, or hear a cow, without smiling like an idiot.
Annnnnddddd then there’s the part where I live close to cows pastures. I can’t really go anywhere without seeing a cow. It’s a bit obnoxious, really. Even my son has started to notice. We’ve been taking long walks lately, and just sort of exploring. Recently he looked up and said “MOM! Hefner got huge!”. I laughed, the cows started Mooing, we laughed more… I had to eventually pull us away. Which really proved hard, as their were cow fields on both sides of us for a good twenty minutes. Anyone passing us by would have thought we were nuts.
It’s been over a year since she died. Yeah guys; I said she.
The thing about me coming back to writing is that while I was away… We will say “someone”… decided that stalking me on the internet, cloning my media sites, posting fake nudes… Yeah, you read that right…. Throwing all of my private information (including the town I live in, my son’s name and nick names, my business information, including this blog) out in the open while at the same time harassing anyone and everyone they could. The idea was to ruin my reputation. The idea was to pop the safe little bubble I had created to protect my son and myself from the internet… Because parenting, and privacy… However it didn’t work. Those who knew me laughed and kept on truckin’. Those who didn’t know me, sort of shook their heads in disgust, but came back to me with questions.. Concerns.. Because what was posted and said was so bizarre. In the end none of it matters other than I no longer have the privacy I once had, and really at this point: fuck it. LMAO
You see, if you have been following me regularly I generally use gender neutral pronouns for my better half. Was I ashamed, you ask? Hell no! I didn’t want readers to get stuck on WORDS. I didn’t want it to be even more obvious of who I was. Lol. I skimmed over things that would easily identify me. But, “someone” has made it so that it is easily tracible to who I am. So, from now on, it’s going to be all out in the open… Watch out internet, BECAUSE NOW I REALLY HAVE NO FILTER! LMAO.
So, join me on this new journey of letting it all hang out… And finally knitting some penis socks.
Catriona
XOXOXOXOX
I’m having such a hard time with life. My marriage was a disaster in the end. It truly was. But, the first few years before she became ill were fantastic. I’m not even sure what I am doing any more.
I’m wounded.
Probably more than I’ve ever been in my life. As of February 8th, two years ago, I clutched the phone with my head and shoulder as I pulled the lifeless body of my wife from our bed to the floor for resuscitation.. A day I see every day, several times a day, when both awake and asleep, relentlessly. Treatment for the subsequent PTSD and anxiety disorders are a joke. Even my doctors have called it, collectively. She was the only person I ever truly loved aside from my son. My wife was without oxygen for a damaging amount of time, something they told me while I stood in the ICU for a week could take her away from us mentally, physically, or both.
When she eventually woke, she was no longer my wife. The person I brought back from death wasn’t MY wife at all. And even tho she lived, I swear I died in that room that day. Our situation both before and after that day broke me. I cried everyday where she couldn’t see because I couldn’t help her, because no one could help us, Because she was so messed up, because I was so messed up. I broke under the pressure. She beat on me emotionally and physically because of her issues, yet I would do it again, truly I would. I know she knew what she was doing half the time. And the other half I think her soul was being called somewhere else and she had no idea what she was doing. She told me the day I moved out that we would be married again some day, that we needed to heal apart, that she loved me, that it was killing her to see me go. Months later I could see both deep love and deep hate in her eyes. We got worse apart, not better. I truly believed one day I’d get MY wife back, some day, maybe years but, maybe one day. I would have walked thru hell (and in some ways I did) to heal her, to have kept her, MY HER. After years of failing to help her I was resentful because I was drowning/hurting/helpless and couldn’t see the light. I made mistakes at the end of our relationship. Not the ones I was accused of, but mistakes nonetheless. I will carry them with me everyday. A few weeks ago, short of the two year mark, she died.
She was no longer my wife, or mine in any way.
My son’s other parent is gone, and when I got home I had to tell him while holding my shredded heart in my hands, while trying to hold his together. Through all the hurt, though all the pain, if given the choice I’d walk through hell, blind if need be, to find her and drag her out. I’d do it every day if I could have back the woman I fell in love with so many years ago.
Don’t waste time, it’s running out.
Due to my wife’s illness, and perception of the situation, coupled with a former “Friend” of mine crossing lines and contacting my wife out of anger for me, saying who knows what – I wasn’t even made aware when she died. My son did not get to say good bye, they would not allow him at the service, or speak to us at all. My Wife and I weren’t on bad terms. But, someone trying to hurt me ended up hurting my son more. My son lost his mom, and his Grandmother in the same week, and was left on the sidelines all because of vengeance.
You never know who people are. Even if you have known them for years. I cannot even believe the things that have transpired.
Hold your loved ones. Tell your friends how much they mean to you. Identify and walk away from the ones that truly aren’t your friends. Tell the people in your life you love them once a day.
life with my wife toward the end was a horror show. I used this site as an outlet for my anger always thinking that in the end I would be able to write about the good things that would happen in the future. It was always my hope that she would get it together, and be around for my son. I know it was a long shot. I know it was stupid. but, I always had a spark of hope.
That hope died when she did.
My son is shattered.
But, everyday we talk about one good memory we shared with her. Some times the only way out, is though.
OXOXOXO
Catriona
You know how you have subjects and thoughts that you just….throw on the back burner and touch on them ever so often? Well, I don’t have one. I have a thought hurricane. It’s a constant tornado of thoughts. (Not to be confused with a ‘Pornado’, that would be fun.) My brain just never stops.
In September I moved.
In October my Aunt started to get sick.
In November I spent 3 weeks sitting beside my Gram’s best friend (Aunt) as she died of lung cancer. She was diagnosed, and within 3 weeks she was gone. Gram and I drove the 35 mins everyday to and from the Hospital to be with her.
I did a lot of sitting on the ledge praying, looking down from the seventh floor.
This was taken the day before she died. I was sitting next to her bed, I had been holding her up. She was so weak toward the end.
In January my heart was shredded by the loss of yet another family member from lung cancer, and the loss of my actual heart. Telling my son was just as painful as the three actual losses. I cannot express my life at the moment.
I have not forgotten about cards, you guys. As you can see…uh, things are not settled. ha.
I just noticed the dirty sock on my desk. wtf?
Catriona
You know life is hard when your French press breaks. Haha. Damn it all. Seriously? NOW?! What the hell? Hahaha. This one didn’t even go like the last one; this one was killed, by mistake, not by me. Sigh. Lol.
I’m going to stand on a corner with a sign that says “Need money for French Press.” See where that gets me?
LMAO
Not much going on. I’m doing Yoga again, meditation. Neither of which I am enjoying. Lol. Doctor’s orders.
Can’t do much in this town without everyone noticing. I’m the only one with colored hair. Facial piercings seem to be unheard of here. I stick out like a sore thumb. What’s new? However this is to a degree I haven’t experienced in years. I’m a complete oddity here with my proper Grandmother, and seemingly normal son in tow. Lol.
I’m back to blasting my Ipod in my ears 24/7…just in one ear, so I can still hear the house and Gram.
It’s sooooo HOT HERE. AHHHHH. I mean, I am used to Florida Hot, but this is ridiculous. It’s even hot right now, and it’s 2:19am!
I am trying to write every day. It sucks lol. I am trying to go back to some of my previous projects, I just don’t have time. I feel like I am trying to grasp at something to make me feel normal.
Spent most of the day at the Hospital with Gram, she had tested all today, and all next week. All of which I have to attend. I swear my life was meant to be accompanying someone, or actually being in, a hospital. LMAO.
Thought about my friend that died recently. I guess I can’t help it, that damn painting is stilling on my desk. Ha. Sigh. I guess I should have known, he called me shortly before he died, and gave it to me. Bastard knew he was leaving, and never said a word. I didn’t pay enough attention. He was in another state, I was trying hard to keep my head above water..I wish I had been in a better place, for him.
One of my Orchids is looking like it’s going to bloom. Odd considering it’s been pretty rough looking since last May. I’m fucking rambling now. I thinking I am trying to kill time before I have to do that fucking Guided Meditation Crap. Haha.
I used to love to Meditate. Now, I do it two times a day, and it pisses me off. Thinking it’s having the opposite effect desired by my Doctor. Hahaha. Who the fuck wants to get up earlier to make sure they fucking meditate? Not me. Lol.
I guess I should try to sleep, I have to be up at 8am for appointments, and such. All without a French press. Kill me now? Please? LOL
OXOXOX
Catriona
I’m at a loss. Life has been just ridiculous. Lol.
The last month has brought me some horrid pain.
Not only was this month my Anniversary, it would have been 2 years. It was my Cat’s Birthday, but it’s also the month I found out that a dear friend of mine has passed away.
I found out via a fucking Google search. The family never phoned me. I felt it. I ran away from it for a while. I finally Googled him to make myself face it.
So alone in my office, I read one of my closest friend’s Obituary. He had been gone over a month by the time I got to the obituary. I was never told, never given the chance to attend this Sevices. He left April 2nd. Hell month. Great. And the day my favorite Grandfather died. Great. Thanks for all that, Universe.
Seriously, WTF. WTF?
This same friend that lost his leg, and almost his life the same month I found my wife dead in our bed is now also gone.
I’m tired of being used. Someone always gets something out of being close to me. What have I gotten? Ha. I’m tired of working my ass off and getting no where. I’m tired of thinking positively, helping others, and getting walked on.
I’m tired.
Catriona
Usually when I fall on my face, I’m back on my feet just as fast. No beats skipped. Usually, I brush myself off, shake out my hair (Yes, I whip my hair back and forth), scoop up my kid and keep going. I back down to no one, nothing. Nothing.
However, that doesn’t seem to be the case this time. I remember the exact moment I felt my brain unravel. It was like the moment of impact in a fatal car accident. But I wasn’t in a car, I was in my bedroom. From the moment I heard myself say “No way” on Feb 8th, I’ve felt as though I have completely lost my mind.
I keep being told that time will fix it – “You just need time to get back on your feet.” Bitch, I don’t even know where my feet are. Do I even have feet? Can YOU even see my feet at this point? Have they been stolen? They’ve been fucking stolen! Feet, ha. I’ve been down on my face for weeks. Every time I even lift my head, the Universe delivers yet another kick to the gut.
I feel everything and nothing, all at the same time. I’m on auto pilot. What’s worse is I’m pretty sure this auto pilot program was written by a drunken crackhead. I want nothing to do with anyone. Not even people I love. My son being the only exception. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want anything to do with any type of social connections. I’m not capable of handling other people’s emotions, at all. The people I usually run to, I’m hiding from. I just want them all to stay over there. Over there, where I can keep an eye on you, but you can’t get to me. I feel nothing for them. Nothing. I know I love them. I know I do. I just can’t feel it. At all. Seems to be the more I care the thicker the brick wall I’m constructing. I know it’s unfair, I know it’s hurtful, I know it makes no sense to most. But, at the moment it seems to be what I need.. Lest I open my mouth and burn bridges I constructed in love. I feel poisonous. You should hear all the hurtful things I don’t say. I know why my brain is constructing such hurtful sentences. It would only take one or two to get you all to permanently leave me alone. My brain wants you all to go away and never look back. But logic (is it logic? Maybe it’s the fragments of my heart) is what keeps my mouth clamped shut. If I just keep you all over there, I won’t set you all on fire, my brain can’t get to you, and I won’t cause permanent damage to the things I love.
I’ve got two funerals to attend in the next two weeks, and next Tuesday is my first day back to work since the 8th. I can’t even function, but I’ve somehow got to pretend to be normal and not the complete lunatic I now am. Catriona was crazy, and I owned it. I loved it. But I don’t know what this is, I don’t know what I am any more.
Catriona