Wednesday, January 19, 2011

He actually listened.....

Okay took Sprite to the doc this morning,(for those that don't know Sprite has been having some reflux and bowel movement issues for more than a year now we've been going to a Gastrointerologist since May 2010 trying to find out why she keeps having these issues. I've been reluctant to put anything about it here until we had SOMETHING from the docs office to say other than oh she's just constipated and give her a stool softener. Or its just reflux give her this. Well Today I feel validated and listened to and this is why) and I realized why I've been going back even though the nurse practitioner makes me feel like a dumb ass!


He actually listens to everything I say not just bits and pieces nor does he ignore anything.

when i told him about the diarrhea and the constipation and that the only way I've found to get her to be even remotely regular BM wise is to give her the miralax every other day rather than everyday he listened.

When i told him about the irregular fevers the lethargy and the continuation in choking that she's had of late he listened and i didn't feel like i was making up the symptoms.

He told me that since she's been on the acid reflux med for the choking, nausea, vomiting (nausea and vomiting stopped before august when choking started), for more than 6mos, he said he wanted to do an upper endoscopy to see if there was any inflammation of her esophagus and upper GI tract.

He said that was the next step. He said that he wanted to rule out any problems with her esophagus and upper GI tract. He said that the choking could be anything from her throat not closing well to allergies (food or environmental) or Esophagitis which is something about an inflammation of the esophagus.

So on the 14Th he's going to do and Endoscopy and stick a tube down her throat and take biopsy's of her esophagus to rule out those things or find them.

The miralax he wants me to give in teaspoons (which i had been doing) but in smaller doses so that she's taking it everyday without having too loose (diarrhea) stools or to hard stools (constipation)

Her weight he's not to concerned about but wants to keep a watch on because she's been the same weight now for about 4-6mos now and not gaining an ounce and that's not normal since she's gaining in inches. So I'm to watch her on that just in case it starts to go down or fluctuate again.

That coincided with the ped's evaluation because when she went for her 4yr old check and shots they made the remark that she hadn't gained in a while and that i may want to start the pediasure back again before she slips back under the growth chart.

He mentioned the fevers and asked me what the ped thought about the fevers and i told him that the ped took blood for tests and all came back negative. He said that while he didn't know what could be causing the low grade fevers it could be the esophagitis that's causing it if she has it because of the inflammation of her esophagus, but if it isn't then he really didn't know what it could be and if i was really worried about it i could suggest that the ped refer her to the infectious disease doc and they could figure out what and why the fevers keep coming back.

He asked about the ex ray's she's had and when i told him about the nurse having us walk, run around the room a half a dozen times to get the chalky milk into her intestines for a look he took that seriously and not as if i had lost my mind and told me that that was just another reason for him to order the endoscopy because that too could be another concern.

I could marry that man he listened so well......I remembered why i kept pushing when i saw him and realized that i wasn't a quack after all.

It was a good appt. He felt of dd's belly and determined that she was good got her to say "Ahhhhh" but what he really did that i was amazed by was that he LISTENED when i talked and he didn't look at me like i had M√ľnchhausen's for mentioning the symptoms of MY CHILD.

I love him. I heartily dislike his NP though.

Thats all from me today i hope you like this story of mine.... The different fonts are different characters, old lady in Red, young man in black and the mirror in Green....

Odessa Downs

In an empty room full of memories an old woman lies on a hospital bed in her home and watches as her family comes to grips with the fact of her death. I hang there against the wall ignored as the people around me wallow in their grief. I who am reflective of beauty reflected hang’s here to reflect the feelings of the faces that I see and of the people who look up and see their faces in me. It is touching and heartwarming, I suppose, but if not for me would they see their faces in grief? I’m sure that if I had my own feelings instead of only reflecting them I would cry, yet glad I am that I cannot because if I did it would only ruin my marvelous shine. Being only a mirror whose emotions are a reflection of others emotions that are reflected on me I suffer their pangs and wish rather for happy times again. I watch as the old woman’s youngest granddaughter, her name sake, at the age of ten comes in to sit with her. I hang there on the wall and watch as Odessa opens her eyes and starts to speak, and still no one has come to look in on me!

“All my life I wondered what an Odessa looked like and I assume she must look like me simply because that is my name, although it took me many years to come to that realization. The reason for that is because I figured an Odessa would be some exotic princess in a tower waiting on a prince to come to her rescue. I just knew that I wasn’t one of those women, because when I was in the second grade I got into a lot of trouble for defending my little brother. I was very angry, and my mother took me aside and told me that while it is okay to stand up for someone it is very wrong to give him a black eye and a bloody lip,” She laughed.

I watch the exchange in my glorious gilt frame as her son come into the room and stared into me with his wide gypsy dark eyes and sharp handsome features. I think if I wore to be human looking like him would suit me well.


Watching mama laugh with Dessie like she wasn’t minutes away from death was hard. She’s strong my mama. She’s always been that way. When I was little she seemed bigger than life, because she could do so much and yet she made it all look easy. I wonder now how she did it. I wish I had that know how.

I turn away because looking at them makes me sick to my stomach. I stare at mama’s nightstand and there is a porcelain ballerina there that just takes me back ….to her…her hair was pulled back as I watched her dance for the kids. Long…forever long legs that jumped and swayed to the music. The prettiness of her hair a smoky black…no, not black….red, a fiery, hot rod, red. My wife’s hair is black, black as night with a high shine almost blue in color. Long beautiful hair…hair that begs to be touched…loosened…a long blue black curtain. Hair so glossy and thick I thought….sometimes…I could see myself….like in mama’s favorite mirror.


He looks at me like he wants to see inside me. It’s a funny look, I think, not like the rest of them. He looks pensive. Like he has more than his mother’s death on his mind, and by looking into me he can resolve those feelings. The feelings that are reflecting in me are not the sad almost desolate ones that I have experienced so far with the mourning family but almost like confused sensuous feelings. I don’t know what he is thinking but if I could make a guess it has nothing to do with death or his mother. No one in the whole house has deigned to come and look at me or even admire themselves in me. I feel so useless in times like these. It’s almost like being invisible only I can’t be invisible I am a mirror and I reflect and that in itself makes me quite visible. I am most remarkable when the sun hits me just right from the massive floor to ceiling windows off to the right of the room, you can see my reflective surface and my gilded frame shine gloriously. I am glad that Odessa wanted the large windows put in when she finally got too sick to leave the house anymore. I used to have to rely on the overhead lighting which was minimal at best so it really did nothing for my gilt or shine. It really is a remarkable sight and the fact that no one is remarking me at all astounds me and if I was person and not a beautiful thing I would be furious. Ah to be more than I am, but of course if I were I wouldn’t be so remarkable as I am now so I’d best be satisfied.

The room used to be a large living room and I just the ornamentation, but as Odessa’s health started to fail this room became her sanctuary and prison….until the windows. They over look her favorite part of the house. The garden, she calls it her enchanted garden because it looks half hazard with no rhyme or reason but it is lovely even I have to say so some of it is always reflected in me the red of the roses, the softness of the grass, and the broken rock paths make the garden look old mazelike and enchanted. He’s not looking at me this Jason. He now watches his mother intently, and as he does I now reflect the whole room instead of just him, because he becomes part of the whole. I listen….

“So by the time I was in the fifth grade I knew I wasn’t the type of person to wait on things to come to me or allow someone else to do it for me. I found that my name and my disposition was so in conflict with what I thought an Odessa should be that I asked my mother why she named my Odessa. She said,

‘Why I named you Odessa ? Well, when you were born I had the name Sophia Grace, and I thought it would be a perfect name for a girl child. But when you were born you had such vigor, such fierceness to you that you seemed almost belligerent and angry that someone had taken you from all that you had known thus far. That I had someone bring me a name book and found that Odessa means full of wrath in Greek and The Odyssey in Ukrainian. So I chose the name Odessa Felicity, because you were so angry when you were born and Felicity because I will always wish for your happiness.’

Happiness….yes, mama always thought of our happiness. I was happy with Kathleen…I was happy with Maureen…Not was… am…never was. God, Kathleen with her glamour and beauty. All that cinnamon colored hair and cute freckles in the most eye-catching places…ha ha ha…sunkissed skin…no wait that is Maureen….Kathleen’s skin is milky and soft with freckles. How much do I love her freckles? Let me count the ways. Oh, and her eyes, those fathomless green eyes like grass in the summer.

Maureen has great eyes, eyes that go from light to dark blue like the Oklahoma sky in spring. Not like Kathleen’s eyes her eyes are a shocking green like dyed leaves on plain flowers. Such happiness with Maureen. Such love with Kathleen, she was bright and oh how she laughed, deep and sultry…or was that Maureen’s laugh? Yeah, Maureen’s laugh was deep as her blue eyes, and Kathleen’s laugh was as light as her blue eyes…wait…no…yes I was right Kathleen’s eye’s are blue….so blue. Dessie looks like her mother, but she has my eyes…my mama’s eyes…deep…black…mirrored eyes.


He’s looking at me again. Ooooohhhhh, it invigorates me when he looks at me so intently. It fair to gives me the shivers. If I could shiver that is. The way he looks is quite remarkable, black hair, black eyes and skin so creamy and golden, like antique gold dark with definition. He is a glorious specimen of humanity and I will say again that if I were to ever be human he would be a wonderful rendition of me. All of the emotion that flits in and out of his eyes and across his face. I am just dizzy with the many convoluted things creeping in an around his face. Alas none of those feelings have to do with the dying woman lying in bed in front of him. I feel for Odessa she is old and expects for her family to grieve for her and while the majority are doing that it’s her oldest who won’t or who doesn’t. His callousness towards the fate of his mother is something I think that my lend him just enough devilishness to make him not only handsome but intriguing as well. Whatever problems that he has they are consuming his psyche and his mother is just an afterthought. Just look at him now. He stands in the door way looking from his mother to his daughter and then behind him toward his wife and finally he keeps eying the little Victorian ballerina on the table. Thinking and looking everywhere but at and about his mother. Ohhhh….the self centeredness…..if he was half as caring as I was he would listen and listen well to his mother’s last words. I know I do….

So I guess my mother naming me what she did was a very good choice because while I did come into the world angry and wrathful. I ended up finding my happiness not only within myself and my name but with everything else in my life, such as my husband children and grandchildren. And now being at the end of my life I can finally see that my name chronicled my life that started off full of anger and wrath, then to send me on a journey where I ended up finding an unexpected happiness in my life, my husband and family.

She has it right mama does, it’s all about family with Kathleen, no Maureen. Yeah, I should stay with Maureen and Dessie that’s family, my family, but what about Kathleen? I can’t leave her. She needs me. She loves me. Why should I give her up? I love them both.

We should probably have another baby that would keep her busy; while I go to Kathleen and make sure she knows that I have fixed things with Maureen.

Look at him, his happiness is mine and I shine. Oh, to have someone look on me now they would know how wondrously glorious it is to be me.

Yes! That’s it, it’s so easy. Why didn’t I think of it before? I can have both. Mama would be proud to know that not only will I find happiness but I’ll also have my family. Kathleen will be my happiness and Maureen and Dessie are my family. Solving the problem was stressful in that it was so easy. I felt tears on my face and saw Maureen walk my way and offer her shoulder. I hugged her and told her that I loved her, which is too true. I cried.

Awwwwwe… sad Jason is crying with his wife. Ohhhhh…..the everlasting joy, this is one of those moments where if I could cry I most definitely would. Odessa looks up at her son and says in the her softest, breathless voice,

“Don’t be sad for me. Tell them all not to be sad. This had to come and I’m glad it was sooner than later. After all what is a life full of journey if it doesn’t end with another. That’s all death is the final journey. The journey into forever. Don’t be afraid; never be afraid of a journey.”

After the whispered words are said Odessa looks my way and gives a small wink and I feel a relief so great I could have floated away on a cloud. Ah…to be so free. She doesn’t move again and word gets out that she has finally passed. The sadness in the house now is palpable and even Jason now shows his mother proper respect by kissing her on the forehead and saying his final goodbyes, and for as long as I am around to bear witness the family rallies around Odessa’s final words.

“Don’t be afraid; never be afraid of a journey.”

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