Well, it's December 5th already and, what with the gradual clearing of the Thanksgiving food-coma-hangover, it's time to take stock and look ahead. After all, I DID just get my LNA and am truly looking forward to traveling down that road. So, with the power of positivity compelling me, I looked.
Sometimes, don't you just wish you'd never looked?
It all started about a week before Thanksgiving. Not for nothing but it also happened to be just as I was set to take the State Board Exams to finish up the initial education portion of my LNA. Some might say this was a stressful time...
Let me just say this: If you've never experienced it yourself, you can absolutely take my word for the fact that no good comes from hearing your husband use a plunger in the shower. Trust me, there is no incident-free road to be taken. None.
Being who I am however, and my husband being who HE is, I did not panic. I don't even think the dog flinched at the odd noise. Had it been a life or death situation, I felt sure he'd have the energy to whack the wall with the plunger as a means to get my attention. On the other hand, if he was simply learning a new form of percussion, who was I to interrupt and stop the flow of creativity?
Apparently, it was something in between the two scenarios and there was more than just the flow of creativity being stopped. If you haven't already guessed, our septic was backed up.
A short time later and, sort of 'matter of factly', my husband said he'd be going outside in the morning to check the Baffles and clean any clogs. If that didn't work, he sighed, we'd be calling our best friends at the Septic Company.
Next morning, the very same morning I was scheduled for both my written and practical exams, he went outside, cleared what he needed to and felt we were in pretty good shape so he took a shower in the basement bathroom (aka the Boys Room). I DID mention I had exams that morning, right? I'll also share my theory that it would likely be a good idea to show up for said exams clean and presentable...
Shortly after my husband showered, I headed in to take my shower in the other bathroom (the Girls Room). I had my Scrubs all laid out, my watch with the second hand was ready to go, tunes were blasting and the showering commenced.
Now, I don't know about you, but I shower from the top down. I shampoo my hair, rinse it, condition it, rinse it, wash my face, ears and neck and so on down the line.
Approximately 15 seconds after I put conditioner in my hair, my husband threw open the bathroom door and said "You have to stop showering NOW!!! THERE'S A BACKUP!!!"
Getting scared or startled while in the shower always makes me think of the movie "Psycho" and I believe that's where hijinx like that belong. They do NOT belong in my bathroom on the morning of State Exams. "SERIOUSLY???" I cried. "I HAVE CONDITIONER!!!" but it was no good, I could already hear him running back down the stairs. So, now the water is turned off and I'm standing there. I'm wet, cold, conditiony and my exams were in one hour. More than slightly miffed, I toweled off, closed the drain to the sink and rinsed as much conditioner out of my hair as was humanly possible in a 4" deep basin.
Muttering the entire way, I threw on some deodorant, brushed my teeth in to the thoroughly conditioned water which, by that time, looked like something out of a Drano commercial and I got dressed....to go to my State Board Exams. I'll spare you the stress and let you know now that I passed.
Apparently, the entire situation looked, sounded and smelled a little different in the Boys Room. This is mostly hearsay so, normally, I'd assume there had been some exaggeration but I did see the post apocalyptic damage and it was pretty severe. No longer miffed, I did feel a little bad for my husband.
He said he heard the water pump kick on, there was a brief pause and then he heard a "gurgle"....coming from HIS shower. Apparently, moments later, "up from the ground came a bubblin' crude" and we're not talking Oil. With the detail I've provided, I'm sure you can use your imagination and come to the conclusion that none of us will ever be the same. It was truly the stuff of nightmares and, I assure you, the nightmares about vile substances and the inability to get away from them continue to haunt.
As sort of an aside, I'll also tell you that we had to get our Chimney replaced two days before this happened and that our tenant's Septic had similar issues two days after Thanksgiving.
As a 'silver lining', the tradesmen we dealt with on all issues were amazing! They responded quickly, knew what to do and only one of them charged an additional Emergency fee. Not for nothing, but if cleaning up (large scale) messes like that was my vocation, I would charge an additional Emergency fee every single time. There are some things you can't un-see or un-smell for that matter.
What can YOU take away from this? My most sincere wishes for Happy Holidays and a reminder that, as you get stressed out over the next month, remember that there are people out there who are not only stressed but are also up to their eyeballs in the septic tank. It could always be worse.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Coming Around Again
Warm, homemade Tapioca Pudding.
There are times when I get an urge to cook or bake something like Tapioca Pudding. I never think much of it while in the process itself but, at some point I find myself smiling for no reason and, then, when I stop to think about it, she's there.
Perennial flowers in Spring and Summer.
Living in New England through long, cold winters, there are few things that can make me smile with wonder like a kid on Christmas morning. Walking through the yard in the Spring and reacquainting myself with Perennials as they pop up from the flat, brown ground like magic is one of those things. As I stop and enjoy the moment, she's there.
My Mother passed away on May 23, 2009 from Pancreatic Cancer. Hers was pretty well advanced at diagnosis. They tried, unsuccessfully, to do a Whipple procedure to remove the Cancer and she died 18 months later. We did not have a fantastic relationship at her death but we were geographically close and, therefore, I was with her for a lot of the year and a half from diagnosis to death.
To say I was not at my best would be an understatement since my Stepmother had died, from inoperable Lung Cancer three weeks before my Mom was diagnosed. For my Stepmother, I provided roughly 75% (maybe more) of her in home care as directed by the Visiting Nurses who would come in once a week or so. She was diagnosed late in May of 2007 and died early in November of 2007. The year the Red Sox won their second World Championship in four years. My husband and I went to Game Two with friends at Fenway Park. It was the first time I'd taken off from caring for her in months. That night, she would try to get up, by herself, to go to the portable toilet in her bedroom. She fell and, in doing so, broke her hip since the Cancer had spread through her bones. She was gone roughly a week later.
At any rate, it's safe to say I was an emotional mess from May 2007 through May 2009, the time from diagnosis to death of both.
For the next year, I was angry. Very angry. Angry that my Mom was far from perfect, angry that my Father and Step-siblings did the least amount to help care for my Stepmother as was humanly possible. Angry that I missed the better part of two years of my kids growing up while I was busy taking care of these two women. Angry that my husband had to take over doing just about everything at home during that time. He did it all without question but I always felt like I was letting him, the girls and myself down.
Two years out, I started remembering good things and forgetting bad things and quietly started mourning the loss of my mother.
Now, more than four years later, things are coming around again. Things like making homemade Tapioca Pudding and watching flowers come up in Spring. These things are every bit to me a warm hug as they are food or beautiful accents to our yard. My Mom is with me.
When I feel my Mother there, whether she's in my head or actually floating around the house, it gives me solace. It is stronger and more tangible than anything any organized religion has ever been able to provide. It melts off the candy coating of a cliché and turns it in to something personal and trustworthy. Something I will keep with me always.
Finally, it makes me smile a lot more at the experiences with my own daughters. I love it because I know that some day, when they're cooking or baking or even when they're laughing at a joke together, I will be with my girls.
To me, that's religion coming around again.
There are times when I get an urge to cook or bake something like Tapioca Pudding. I never think much of it while in the process itself but, at some point I find myself smiling for no reason and, then, when I stop to think about it, she's there.
Perennial flowers in Spring and Summer.
Living in New England through long, cold winters, there are few things that can make me smile with wonder like a kid on Christmas morning. Walking through the yard in the Spring and reacquainting myself with Perennials as they pop up from the flat, brown ground like magic is one of those things. As I stop and enjoy the moment, she's there.
My Mother passed away on May 23, 2009 from Pancreatic Cancer. Hers was pretty well advanced at diagnosis. They tried, unsuccessfully, to do a Whipple procedure to remove the Cancer and she died 18 months later. We did not have a fantastic relationship at her death but we were geographically close and, therefore, I was with her for a lot of the year and a half from diagnosis to death.
To say I was not at my best would be an understatement since my Stepmother had died, from inoperable Lung Cancer three weeks before my Mom was diagnosed. For my Stepmother, I provided roughly 75% (maybe more) of her in home care as directed by the Visiting Nurses who would come in once a week or so. She was diagnosed late in May of 2007 and died early in November of 2007. The year the Red Sox won their second World Championship in four years. My husband and I went to Game Two with friends at Fenway Park. It was the first time I'd taken off from caring for her in months. That night, she would try to get up, by herself, to go to the portable toilet in her bedroom. She fell and, in doing so, broke her hip since the Cancer had spread through her bones. She was gone roughly a week later.
At any rate, it's safe to say I was an emotional mess from May 2007 through May 2009, the time from diagnosis to death of both.
For the next year, I was angry. Very angry. Angry that my Mom was far from perfect, angry that my Father and Step-siblings did the least amount to help care for my Stepmother as was humanly possible. Angry that I missed the better part of two years of my kids growing up while I was busy taking care of these two women. Angry that my husband had to take over doing just about everything at home during that time. He did it all without question but I always felt like I was letting him, the girls and myself down.
Two years out, I started remembering good things and forgetting bad things and quietly started mourning the loss of my mother.
Now, more than four years later, things are coming around again. Things like making homemade Tapioca Pudding and watching flowers come up in Spring. These things are every bit to me a warm hug as they are food or beautiful accents to our yard. My Mom is with me.
When I feel my Mother there, whether she's in my head or actually floating around the house, it gives me solace. It is stronger and more tangible than anything any organized religion has ever been able to provide. It melts off the candy coating of a cliché and turns it in to something personal and trustworthy. Something I will keep with me always.
Finally, it makes me smile a lot more at the experiences with my own daughters. I love it because I know that some day, when they're cooking or baking or even when they're laughing at a joke together, I will be with my girls.
To me, that's religion coming around again.
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