I'm Sorry

I made a devastatingly horrible mistake today.

As is my routine, I check my Facebook each morning and send birthday wishes to all on my list.  It's always a happy or funny picture.  Something to make the birthday girl or guy smile on their special day.

This evening I received a message from the daughter of someone I wished happy birthday to recently.  She very kindly informed me that her father had passed away and sent me a link to his obituary.

My heart sank to my stomach.
How could I have been so stupid?
How could I have missed his passing?
How could I have hurt his family with my misguided birthday wishes?

I remember when Steve's first heavenly birthday rolled around and friends that we hadn't seen in ages wrote him birthday wishes on his Facebook page.  I, too, had to share the sad news with them of Steve's passing.  It was grueling.

I hope the family of my college friend forgives me for my mistake.  I hope they know how much I liked their father and how much fun he was in college.  I hope they know that I grieve with them. I hope they know that I will envelop them in prayers. I hope they find peace on this rocky journey called grief.

27
Cyna

Life Isn't Fair

Our heads know life isn't fair.  Unfortunately, our hearts still hold out hope that if we do the right things, are kind to people, and give more than we take that life will give us a "Get Out of Suffering Free" card.  Oh, how our hearts deceive us!

Sometimes...life is VERY unfair.
VERY, VERY unfair.
And when you're routinely knocked to your knees with a giant punch from the universe, it's hard to see past your pain and recognize the headache in others.

I am very ashamed to admit that I've let someone down who is going through a really tough situation in their life.

I've been so preoccupied with my own worries and anxieties and pain that I've failed to give this person the support they need.

Grief has made me selfish.  I've never been selfish before.  This realization disturbs me.

I must do better for those I love.
I will do better for those I love.

27
Cyna

It's Been One of Those Weeks

It's official.  I'm falling apart at the seams.

I've had three different doctor's appointments this week.

On Monday I was injected approximately 100 times with different venoms and shellfish while I was watched for 3+ hours for an anaphylactic reaction.  I left without incident, however all the pen marks and injection sites made me look like I had been hit repetitively with a mace and a waffle iron. Oh, the horror.

Wednesday was my annual "lady doctor" day.  My doctor is a dear friend, and I so enjoyed visiting with him.  However, the part where I had to get naked, put on a paper blanket and have my "personals" prodded and poked was a little invasive.  My good doctor wants to remove some parts...in the near future.  I kinda like my parts.  I have some decisions to make on that "end."

That very same day I made my yearly trek to the Imaging Center.  In honor of "Think Pink" month...I had my mammary glands pressed in a refrigerator door and further flattened with a vice for optimal x-ray advantage.  I'll get my results in a week.  Joy.

Today was my eye doctor's appointment.  I am pleased to report that all is well with my eyes.  However, I am a twitch more farsighted, so the strength of my mono-vision contact has been tweaked.  This appointment was gloriously brief and painless.

I'm still waiting on my rheumatologist appointment.  It was originally scheduled for December 20th...a lifetime for one with rheumatoid arthritis.  However, my incessant calling has garnered me a November appointment.  I believe if I keep calling...they will finally just get tired of me and work me in earlier...you know, the whole squeaky wheel theory.

Speaking of squeaky wheels...I blather on.  It's been a hard week, but I am blessed.  And those blessings are what keep me going...even when the going is tough.

27
Cyna

Don't Give Up

I haven't posted in a while as I've contemplated the merits of continuing my blog.  I am conflicted.

Oh, I still have so much more to say...
But should I?

Twenty-seven months ago my world came to an end.
For almost 2 years I've shared every valley...pain...fear...heartache.
The grief journey never ends.
And honest to goodness...the second year was the worst.
But I've moved into year three...
Do I need to keep telling my story?
Do I keep writing so people know how this all turns out well?

I'm not "there" yet.  I'm still looking for my path.
I guess I expected God to have landing lights on the tarmac leading me to where I should go.  I've looked for bread crumbs...inspiration from music...scripture...even lucky pennies.

Let me clue you in.
The path...my path...is crystal clear to God.
I'm either not looking or listening hard enough to find it.
But it is there.
That I know for sure.

So I won't give up.
I'll keep my ears and eyes open...and my feet moving.
And if it still helps those walking behind me, I'll keep writing.

27
Cyna