Cracks in the foundation

We grow up thinking that our parents are like super heroes. Just a hug from mom, or some words of praise from dad will make everything better. If we are sick, the parents' magic will  make us well. Nothing hurts as much as their disappointment.  They seem perfect.

But once a person gets to be my age, the parents are older too, and their perfections have perhaps been eroded by age, and frequent use.  A grown child's system is shocked to see that the people she counted on to kick her butt, and help her in so many ways, simply can't anymore. They need some help themselves.

In my case, my father, who is one of the coolest, funniest, and smartest individuals I've ever known, recently made the painful decision that it was time to give up driving, for safety reasons. He has vision problems, and is forgetful.  Meanwhile, my mother, once again has to be an emotional rock,exercising patience, when she wants to scream. She has had to do that too often. She deserves a break.


My husband's mom is currently laid up in a PT facility, following a second fracture in her back.  As of this writing, It does not sound like she is much better. Her back is basically as brittle as fire kindling. She has always been good about flying from Chicago to Portland to see us. We will have to start taking more trips there.

Having a life-threatening illness, I'm one to celebrate being alive.

For some, though, getting older sucks.

Lose a brain, gain a beemer.

Ever since I can remember, my husband has wanted a BMW. He first got the bug when our son was two years old. We headed into the sunset one day doing errands and we pull into a BMW (beemer) dealership.  He looked at a 2-series, because it was the only vehicle remotely in our price range. I killed Bruce's joy by asking to see the trunk.  It can't hold groceries, much less toddler paraphernalia, so no beemer, for now.

Flash forward to the present. My son is now 13, and I am not safe for the road, due to having a massive gaping gash in my head. I see no need for us to be a two car family.  I was pleasantly surprised when Bruce sold his Audi A4, which he liked, as it was sporty enough for him, and began driving our remaining vehicle, a Honda CRV. The Honda had roominess and fairly good gas mileage, but was apparently no fun for Bruce to drive. Lately, Bruce has been feeling confident enough in his job, that he is ready to take on the encumbrance of car payments. He goes out test driving while doing errands with our son, and it's all over! Bruce is in love, and when one is in love, no expense is too great. He takes me to see the car of his dreams. The only thing I care about is can anyone sit behind Bruce? Another is how much can we get for the CRV? Still another is the trunk size?

We were very pleased with the amount of our trade in, and so a love connection was made between us and a 528 sedan, thanks in part to the fact I cant drive anymore.  My days as a chauffeur are over. That door of independence is now officially closed.

I could write a book

I've been neglecting my blogging duties. I started a big writing project in November, and still working on it. I am trying to write an interesting book about me. It contains 6000 words so far, and is broken into three parts.

• being born with Turner Syndrome, a genetic condition that accounts for as many as 10 percent of all miscarriages. Yet, I am here. Though, one cannot be born with a genetic defect and live a completely normal life, and sometimes I have struggled to live among the "normal" people.
• living with brain cancer. Bam! One day I was well, the next day I was diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. I now have a huge piece of a brain missing. Think of how frustrating it is when your computer doesn't work, and you will have some idea what it's like living with cancer.
• parenting an adopted child. Having Turner Syndrome comes with infertility, but I still wanted to be a parent, so my husband and I adopted a son. Although every child is a gift, adopting a child is bittersweet and complicated. My book will describe some of the hiccups and speed bumps we have encountered in our parenting adventure.

So, I will probably be blogging more sporadically. I need to focus. I wonder who would want to read it, if and when it gets finished.

twists and turns in our adoption story

About four years ago, we were going to visit our son's birthmother.  We scoured our letters from her and tried every number on the letters with no luck. The purpose of the visit would be to meet our son's half-brother.

We thought she had disappeared. Letters kept coming back to us.  We got hold of her husband's phone number and called him.  He is the father of Austin's half-brother.

Shocking news.  Austin's birth mother is in jail, but for what, we don't know.

Until she writes to say that she was in a house where a fatal shooting happened, and did not contact authorities, therefore, making her an accessory.  She asks us not to tell Austin. I'm thinking she didn't want him thinking poorly of her.

After asking a professional for advice, we kept this secret.

But Austin did a Google search, seeking information on the ethnicity of his birth name (Kantak), and his birth mother's name came up, complete with her record.

"I found out about my birth mom," Austin announces.

As he's telling me this, it becomes clear that he thinks she has committed a murder and been sentenced to die.

Oh My God!

I tell him that she was in a room where a murder happened, but she didn't do the killing, and as for her sentence, I don't know what it is, only that she's appealing.

Yes, he is upset that we didn't tell him sooner, Yes, he is wondering if he will end up like his birth mother.  He is her blood kin, but choices play a big role in the mark we make on the world.  He will not necessarily be affected by his birth mother's choices, so much as the environment in which he grows up.

outsourcing

It has been almost a year since a neurologist strongly suggested that I not drive. As such, I have to "outsource" that task to others; friends, family, taxis, or my feet.

As of this writing my husband is out of town, meaning extra burden on other family members and/or friends. My sister had to take me to my son's parent-teacher conference. Both my sister and mom have to take my son to tutoring, while the Old Man is away.

So I'm trying to expand my network of potential drivers. I contacted Ride Connection, a transportation service for disabled people, and a volunteer will be talking me to my cancer writing group, which starts up again tomorrow. Another friend suggested that I contact the local chapter of the Cancer Society, and still another  said her daughter would be willing to drive me.

All of this requires better planning and organization on my part, so I can give potential drivers fair notice. Others can be more spontaneous with their plans.

It takes a village to me me.

my ode to pizza

Imagine there's no pizza
I can do that with ease
No crust below me
Above me only cheese


Imagine all the pizza
Eating til you puke
You may say I'm a glutton
But I'm very very nice
I hope some day you'll join me
For a beer and a slice....

Herman Cain's Ode to Pizza