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July 04 THERE IS STRENGTH IN NUMBERSMy dear space friend Karin aka Grandma's Many Blessings is in need of prayer for her new little one month old granddaughter, Quinn. It is so heartbreaking when someone so little becomes so ill. I believe her space is open and can be reached at http://karinjutta.spaces.live.com/ Please pay her a visit and offer her your support.
Goodnight, my angels.
XOXOXO,
Eileen CELEBRATING THE 4TH BOSTON STYLEBoston has the be the place to celebrate the 4th of July. It wasn't until I lived in Connecticut that I took my four children into Boston to celebrate on the Charles River at the Esplanade. Some people even camp out early in the morning to enjoy the Boston Pops and the wonderful fireworks. I was always in the Boston area around that time to celebrate my dad's birthday. One year, I announced to my family that I was taking the T (the subway) into town with the children to do the 4th of July up in style.
We left from Braintree in the early evening. All four of the kids were in perfect moods. Brain, my youngest, was only 10. Yes, there were crowds, but we were able to spread a blanket right by the Charles River and entertained ourselves with the lovely and creative boats making their way up and down the river. We seemed to be in a very friendly crowd.
The music was out of this world and the crowd so joyous. Somewhere there is a picture of Brian in his Red Soxs jacket waving his American Flag. Even as a youngster, Brian had a love of music and was in his glory. That picture was somehow prophetic as Brain came to have quite a gift for music and was in the Marines.
At the end of the concert, the Eighteen Twelve Overture is played and then a magnificent fireworks display. There was a family next to us, who picked Brian up so he could stand on their cooler to get a better view. At that time, the crowd seemed to close in. When the fireworks were over, I noticed that Brian was lacking all of his color and holding his head. I had nothing in my purse that resembled an aspirin and as we were swept by the crowd to the T Station I kept my eye out for someplace to purchase aspirin. I did and I gave him some. On the subway there was very little seating as you can imagine. I was able to get a seat and held Brian in my lap. It looked to me that he was ready to pass out.
We made it to my parents safely, but poor Brian was up sick all night and the next morning. I called a pediatrician for whom I use to babysit to ask for help. By this time his son had joined the practice and told me to bring Brain right in. Upon examination, it was determined that Brain was suffering from viral meningitis and had quite a high fever. What? It all just came on him so fast. I was told that I could not even think of traveling with Brian back to Connecticut for at least a few days.
All of the children and I were still glad that we made that trip. I think it is something you just have to do at least once in your life if you are in the area. Thankfully we finally have some dry weather and the sun is actually shining. Our June was one for the books due to lack of sun and flash flooding.
I wish all of you a very happy Fourth of July. Get those TVs on tonight to at least watch the celebration. This year Neil Diamond will be performing. It is certain to be a good show. July 02 I JUST CANNOT GET OUT OF MY OWN WAY.Even after my lovely visit with Gail on Sunday, I just cannot seem to get out of my own way these days. For the life of me I could not figure out what was up with me.
Last night after the floor seemed to settle down, I just went to sit by myself. Out of nowhere, I could feel the presence of my father who passed away two years ago August 30th. It was not a strong presence as it was last March, but he was with me in a way.
Here we can be lucky to know the day of the week, let alone the date. Last night it came to me that today was my father's birthday. Oh, so that's what it is.
When Gail and I said our goodbyes in the lobby, I told her a granddaughter Sarah story. When my dad was in the nursing home, my eldest would babysit little Sarah and Owen. For them it was like going to Camp Jennifer as Jennie is so good with her nieces and nephew. My girls remained very close around the time that my dad was dying. It was time for Sarah and Owen to go home with their mother, Katie. Katie made the announcement that it was time for them to return home and of course the little ones ignored her. Who would ever want to leave Camp Jennifer? Katie finally put her foot down to the children and told them it was really time to return home. Sarah looked up to her mother and said, "Okay. But when I get home I am going to have a big cry." I love it!!!!
When I was growing up, I was never allowed to cry. Twelve hours before my dad actually died, Jennie and I were his last visitors. Jennie told Dad the latest Sarah story. Dad was weak but took it all in. He then moved his eyes in my direction and said, "Every once in awhile, we need a good cry." Inside, I was thinking "What? Now you tell me?" But those were his last words to me before he said, "I love you."
In just repeating this story to Gail, I could feel myself beginning to cry. It hit me a day later, that I had never actually cried about my dad in front of another person.
I received the word that my dad had passed away during the night, the following morning through a voice message left on my phone by my brother. I live alone and maybe it is just I, but I do not think that is the way to get news like this.
I am certain that my dad is at peace. I do still miss him. He does still come to mind, but not as often or as strongly as last year. Yes, he will always be a part of me, but it does get less and less painful. I will try to get to use another patients cell phone to call my mom. This has to be a difficult day for her.
It just strikes me as strange that we can go through that feeling of getting in our own way and not always realize just what is behind it.
Happy Birthday, Dad!!! I do celebrate the day you were born.
"And until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of his hand." June 28 WE WERE JUST TO CHA CHA FOR WORDS!!After some confusion brought on by me, Gail and I got together this afternoon. This dumb duck never asked her how long she was going to be in our fair state or even what her cell number was. I guess it was more important to get those eye brows waxed. LOL
I basically used up all my privileged time in going out this morning. When I returned the day shift nurse told me that she had called and would call back. Whew! She did call and used directions from the Internet to find me. I simply kept a low profile and signed out again, just using her first name and our destination of Duncan Donuts. Rich was a wreck not knowing if this person was a monster. I told him that I had my cell phone and I really did have her well sized up. I can be naive, but I did study her space, mostly about how long it has been around and gee who was in her network.
Being so overwhelmed by Rich's physical condition and the general craziness around here, I so needed to get out with someone not associated with this place in any way. Ya, I took a chance, but once I knew it was not my brother pulling something off we went.
On one of her previous blogs, She had written about most of us having trouble with memory and challenging us as to just what was our gift. I responded that my gift was that I am blabby and that was it. As far as the memory portion, I had reassured her that after a certain age there is just too much information in that thing we call a brain and that Herbert Hoover's hat size just has to get dropped from our grey matter. I think that is when we clicked online.
I believe that I did prove to her that I am not a liar. I AM BLABBY, but she is a champ herself. We had three wonderful hours together at Duncan Donuts and there was never a lull in our conversation. We were a good fit. Like I said, we were just to cha cha for words.
When Gail stands before our God on her judgement day and is asked why should she be granted entrance into the heavenly kingdom, her answer can be, "I rescued a duck."
Now I am so exhausted from going out twice today, but it is a wonderful tired. Once again I have warned the patients here that I will be snoring the wallpaper off the wall.
Goodnight, my angels............Zzzzzzzzzz snoooooooooooooooorttt snooooooooorrtt June 27 AWW RATS!!!!!!!My meeting up with my space friend did not come to pass. I may have missed her call to my bedside phone as I am rarely in my room and I cannot call out beyond this area code. C'est la vie. But hey (Only you women will appreciate this) I even had my eyebrows waxed and trust me I was looking pretty spiffy. She is a dear and we can at least stay in touch through "the beast."
Speaking of "the beast," it is more temper mental than I am. It seems to have trouble from time to time recognizing this portable modem from Sprint. Sometimes I do feel that caring for this is like caring for an infant.
I was able to get out to just stretch my legs today with Rich. Just doing that for a short amount of time introduces me to pain in my legs. I am fortunate. Many with my type of neuropathy suffer a great deal of pain and I do not. I never did and I am grateful for that.
Rich's son has offered to take me out tomorrow morning to a meeting and to church. That family has been good to me. As long as I do not get put in a position of babysitting the little darlings, we are all fine.
Rich is struggling more than ever with his neurological symptoms. Tests were done last week, so hopefully the docs with have the needed information and there will be something that can be done for him. More and more, patients on the floor are beginning to notice what rough shape he is in.
My buddy, Ralph who is someone that truly defies description is worried to the point of tears over Rich. I have mentioned before that Ralph can be one royal pain, but there is goodness in him. He was even concerned about me tonight, just because Rich and I are close. Tomorrow Ralph is putting the wheels in motion to get me a seafood platter from some great seafood place from his hometown. After I picked my chin up off the floor, I said, "Ralph, remember when we first met in December?" Ralph responds with, "Yes, and I liked you right away." I had to remind Ralph that I could not stand him or his nonstop foul language. Ralph just put his head down looking rather sheepish. I quickly told Ralph that I really really did like him and that I was always impressed when he simply gave me a look and said "Sorry, Eileen." when he got revved up in the language department. Ralph is the same guy, who after asking Rich permission, gave me a kiss on the cheek when I have Rich that Claddagh ring.
This place can get on my nerves, but I have learned so much about the hidden goodness of others.
I must put my head on my pillow, so I can make it to church tomorrow. It has been way too long since I have gone. My mother refers to praying as "Having a talk with the boss." Ya, I think I need a good long talk with the boss.
Goodnight, my angels. June 25 THIS MAY BE JUST WHAT THE DOCTOR ORDERED.I have been feeling rather down this week. So much of it has to do with the situation within my family. My eldest brother has brought so much pain into my life. I have discovered another one of his awful sites and it literally sickened me. In my last post I wrote the poem "There's A Hole In The Sidewalk." That poem can apply to so many situations in our lives. There are times that we just have to walk down another street. I am not giving up on my children, but am concerned that they are under his influence and they themselves are walking down another street away from me. I do worry about them, but they are adults and can make their own decisions. I do hold them in my heart, but for now I have to surrender them.
I have a space friend who is coming up here tomorrow. Because of my fear of my brother, that maybe he was setting me up, I came close to backing away from this friend. I just got off my phone having had a lovely conversation with friend, Gail. She is truly a breath of fresh air and a good friend, not just to me but to the friend that she is coming to visit. We may only get as far as this front porch, if she has the time. I just know that we will enjoy our time with each other. So many of you are such a gift, by just being who you are.
Now........I must decide just what to wear. ROTFLing
If any of you need to walk down another street, I am here to hold your hand as you muster the courage to take a journey that seems like it may be to a foreign land. This does not mean we are running away. There is a difinition of insanity which has to do with repeating the same bahavior and expecting a different outcome.
Goodnight, my angels. June 24 THERE'S A HOLE IN MY SIDEWALKAUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS
I
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost.....I am helpless
It isn't my fault.
It takes forever to find my way out.
II
I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in, again.
I can't believe I am in this same place.
But, it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
III
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in.....it's a habit....
but,
my eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
IV
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
V
I walk down another street.
By Portia Nelson
June 22 I HOPE MY PUBLISHING THIS MAY SAVE SOME ONE'S LIFEThis is not going to be your usual Duckie post. I have struggled for quite some time over this topic, but feel compelled to address it. The topic is spousal abuse. It usually happens to women but can happen to men. This abuse knows no color, education or income. I think in my case environment may have contributed to this. I never thought it would happen to me as I never saw a hint of it in my family.
Spousal abuse usually begins as emotional abuse. The victim is usually isolated and self esteem is gradually taken.
I was married for only five years when my husband first raised his hand to me, but the belittling began long before that. We had two children and a third on the way. The first time it happened I was stunned to say the least. There was no drug or alcohol abuse involved, just a stupid disagreement over the dog. My first reaction was that maybe I should not have raised the issue of the problem of the dog. That is how we victims think. I never told anyone about it as I believe I may have been embarrassed.
Many think of abuse of maybe being a weekly occurrence, but in my case and in others a year or two can pass before the physical portion of abuse erupts again.
The second time this erupted, I was eight months pregnant with my last child. Again it was not a major disagreement and no drugs or alcohol involved. It was suppertime and a glaze came over my husband's eyes and the pushing and shoving started. I remember looking around the kitchen to the exits trying to create a plan to get myself and my three girls out of the kitchen. After about 15 minutes, my husband yelled to the girls to get upstairs. I remember raising my voice in protest and then trying to talk softly to calm him down. Nothing worked. I even had a contraction and it continued. Out of know where it just stopped. My husband did yell to the girls to never speak of what they had seen.
After this incident, I did go to my eldest brother. His wife was out and I got little reaction or advise from him. I was bruised but I did not think to show him my bruises. I returned home confused. Is this acceptable in a marriage? I know my husband saw my bruises as I changed to go to bed.
I sought the counsel of a parish priest who also did not really react. He suggested that I take my husband out to dinner to talk about what had happened, which I did. Am I making too much out of this? I did suggest counseling which was a joke. As a family we were in trouble, but did not want to face just how bad it was. I did however tell him, "This will NEVER happen again."
A year later it erupted again, but this time my husband was trying to choke me. I did flee in the middle of the night to my parents. I remember how horrible it was for me to tell my father what had been going on. My mother had been suspicious for quite some time. She advised me to speak with an attorney and I did. He instructed me to gain a restraining order against my husband and I did. I remember the woman who was before me. The judge asked her who had thrown the first punch. I realize now that she may have been in that courtroom many times, or maybe she was the abuser. The judge was fine with me and set up a court date so my husband could appear in his own defense. He was away on business for a week after this incident happened. When he returned, he was served, but never appeared in court.
I am certain that there are women out there who cry wolf or maybe they do throw the first punch, but there are others who are truly victims and are scared.
My husband did go to counseling at my request, but there is just one problem. With all the confidentiality issues out there, there was no way for me to know that he was even being honest with himself. I read up on the subject through my local library to get a better understanding of the cycle. I hid my library books under the couch. During our separation we did get together to talk from time to time. One night as my suspicions arose about his being honest with himself, I pulled the books out to show him how he was in that cycle. We did get back together after 3 months. During that time of separation, my children did spend time with their father once a week. There was no longer tension in the home. Our getting back together was a tough pill for my father to swallow. I just never really knew if I was safe. We did, however, have what is referred to as a honeymoon period for about a year. We were then transferred to CT and within 6 months, I could feel the cycle beginning again. I even found a letter that I had written to a friend about it, but I never mailed the letter. He never physically hurt me again, but six months later announced that he was leaving me and the children. There was another woman, but even without the other woman the family was in trouble.
Physical abuse very often does trickle down to the children and it did to my eldest as his violent outburst would be directed at her. The children also get to witness the yelling and often the hitting. My son never witnessed the actual physical abuse, but was definanitly effected by the tension.
One instance of physical abuse is one too many and steps should be taken. The victims are not exclusively women. Most victims do remain quiet and they are probably still trying to figure out why it happens or what they did to bring it on.
When I spoke up at first to a family member, nothing happened. We don't want to get involved in the marriages of others. The problem is that people do die. If there is no family out there to at least advise, there are shelters and counseling out there especially for those with young children, who need that safe transition time to make some serious decisions. Some do feel that they have been short changed in the marriage department, but maybe that is all they deserve. No one deserves to live under that type of fear. I believe that I was so lacking in self confidence that I never dreamt that I could raise my four very young children as a single parent. Little did I know that I was a single parent even when I was married.
There was a large part of me that thought I had given this experience some closure. Last January, when Rich and a were first getting close, he 'jokingly' gave me a very angry look with his eyes. He was taken back by my quick reaction in asking him to never look at me that way again, even as a joke. I myself was surprised at my reaction or over reaction.
My parents' generation remained quiet but thankfully more and more are being open about this difficult subject these days. The abuser appears very normal and likable to the public, which also keeps the victim from confiding anything to anyone. At the very least one other person should be told and an emergency plan plotted for 'just in case.' Don't wait until it is too late. If it has happened before it will happen again, each time worse than the one before.
Just before my husband walked out on us, he got his last "licks" in my telling that origianl brother that I was mentaly ill and had made the entire thing up. I know what happened and my children do too.
I wish you all a peaceful and safe night. June 21 MY DADI wasn't going to post today as it is Father's Day. It is not quite two years since he passed away, but there are times that I still do feel his presence very stongly from time to time, the last time being in March. He never thought much of Father's Day. That was just him. Maybe he was saving himself for his birthday on July 2nd. That was his day. He actually left a laundry basket next to his chair in anticipation of gifts and company.
My dad was always full of laughter, but he never showed his tears. He never wanted to see my tears and would instruct me to go to my room if I felt the need to cry.
I remember very clearly the day I got married. When he saw me all dressed in my wedding gown and veil, he actually lost his footing.
As he walked me up aisle his head was high, but his face was very serious. It came time to give me away. On the last minute, I followed the urge to turn to him, wrap my arms around him and kiss him on the cheek. At that moment, I felt his whole body shake.
Dad and I rarely needed words. We just knew. We could both talk to each other just using our eyes across a room or sitting next to each other. It is a gift that I always treasured.
On the day I was married, he told one of his sisters, "A lot of joy just left our household today."
I hope all you dads are enjoying your day. When the job of being a dad is done right, it is an honor to behold.
And Dad....
"Until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand."
June 20 GETTING THERE IS HALF THE FUN?We are now into summer vacation time and yes I do have a story for you. The summer after premature Emily was born, my husband and I decided to treat ourselves to our first family vacation on Cape Cod. We were so excited to get away after such a difficult winter. Since Emily was only 4 months old, my parents offered to keep her while we went away with Jennie, age 5, and Katie age 3. We were going to a cottage for a week that we found advertised in the newspaper that was in our price range. This was going to be so cool and it really was. It was the getting there that was, shall we say, challenging.
We were to leave on a Saturday, so Friday was "get your act together day." Of course husband was at work and I was in charge of packing etc. At one point, I put the 3 girls down for a nap so I could get the laundry done. All 3 girls were sleeping, or so I thought, in the same room. We lived on a first floor of a two family apartment, so while the girls were napping, I went down to our basement to put a load of laundry through. I returned upstairs and was basically getting other things organized. I then heard a crash. Jennie had decided to do a back flip off her bed and split her head open on the desk next to her bed. I got a neighbor to watch Katie and Emily to run Jennie to the ER to get her stitched up. The hospital did a fine job, but I was told that Jennie was not to get those stitches wet for 5 days. Hey, we are going to the ocean! Take a breath, Eileen.
When I returned home, I asked Jennie and Katie to pull out a few toys that they may want to take with them on vacation. As they were doing this, I was feeding Emily in the other room. I put Emily back to bed and I noticed Katie sniffing and rubbing her nose. She had something up her nose, but I could not tell what it was. Another neighbor arrives with a flashlight. It turns out that Katie had opened part of the stitching of her doll and had shoved a tiny cotton pellet up her nose. Of course we kept after Katie to blow her nose, but it was to no avail. I had to call our doctor a few towns away and of course he wanted to see her. Once again, a neighbor was watching the remaining 2 girls. Katie is with me in the car on the highway and I hear her sniffing. Katie!!!!!!!!!!!! Blow! Don't sniff!!!!!!!!!! We got to the doctor's and he thought it was a pill up her nose, so I get a lecture about leaving medicine within a child's reach. I did deny it was a pill and it did turn out to be a part of that stuffing from that darn doll.
I returned home thinking we have reached our crisis quota for the day. I went to take the laundry out of the washer and the washer, for the very first time, spit oil onto our vacation clothes. Are you kidding me??!!! Before I took on the task of hand scrubbing the oil off the clothes, I parked Jennie and Katie in front of Sesame Street. Are you ready for this one? The TV DIED!!! I did get the scrubbing done and while the clothes were drying, I loaded up the 3 girls to get Emily dropped off to my parents' home. My mother did notice my twitch when I entered her home with Emily. She made me a cup of tea and assured me that we would have a wonderful time on Cape Cod.
I got home with Jennie and Katie and had made dinner. In walks husband all smiles asking, "How was your day dear?" I gave him such a look, that he fled to his room to change. He did notice the bandage on Jennie's forehead, but sat to watch the news. Heh Heh Heh...broken TV. It was then that I asked him if he really wanted to know about my day. He must have still noticed the look on my face and decided to wait until he at least had a beer.
We did have a great time on that vacation. We had a houseful of company, hubby's business buddies the very next day and I must say we had a blast. None of these people our age had children and I am sure left questioning if they would ever have children.
I know. I know. All's well that ends well. I think it ended well. I may have been in a comatose state for the first few days of it.
I would ask you to be safe on your vacations this summer, but maybe I should send a warning about getting ready for your well deserved relaxing time.
Party on, my duckies. June 19 I AM P-P-P-POOPED!I mentioned on Tuesday that I had privileges to go out all by myself on Tuesday. I walked less than a half mile to go to a strip mall. Typical Duckie style, I did not think things through. I was only out for about an hour and just did a little shopping. When it was time for me to turn around and return here, I realized that I was loaded down with shopping bags that were quite heavy. I had purchased some fun activity books, crayons, and story books for Rich's three little granddaughters to keep them busy when they come to visit. I also picked up some books for myself. Hey, books are heavy!!
I stumbled back here and Rich had company. There was his son, daughter-in-law and 3 year old Rosie. I was tired and the adults just left, not telling Rosie that they were going. Hmm. I am pulling every known rabbit out of my hat to entertain Rosie. Rosie has not been tested but I am certain that she is ADHD. We colored. That was short lived as we were at the end of the hall and there were a few patients and a nurse in view. She then wanted to see her parents and I made up some lame story that she bought. I read her a story that she just could not sit still for. My buddy, Mike, who usually sits at the end of the hall himself with his newspaper, was taking all of this in. Now I am asking Rosie to tell me the story, by just looking at the pictures in this 7 page book. Nope, it wasn't happening. Mike gave me a wink and told me how good I was with her, but he could tell I was frustrated. Now dear Rosie literally begins to climb up on a sort of ledge on the wall. I asked her not to and told her it was dangerous. I did this 3 times with no positive results. (Did I mention I was tired?) Her mom appears as I was introducing the concept of "time out." Mom does NOTHING and remarks that it is Rosie's dad who does not discipline. So Rosie is going to continue to act up with no one taking responsibility. I know I sound like I am overstepping, but that child was left in my care with no request made to me and no "Behave for Eileen" to Rosie. I was seeing red.
Mom and Dad enter my room with terror Rosie to try to get my TV to operate. I stayed out of my room as I needed to take a breath. I returned to find that my chip from Sprint (like a portable modem) had been pulled out of my laptop that caused me to loose a good amount of my work. It was not the end of the world, but I am not use to this type of non parenting and no consequences for the terror. I can pretty much predict that this child does have a future behind bars. My son is/was ADD, but I never gave him license to disrupt his surroundings.
Rich has been in very bad shape this week and it has been frightening and heart breaking to watch. Obviously that has effected my "sunny disposition."
Today I forced myself to go out, just for a change of scenery. The only place within walking distance is that mini mall. This afternoon I was on the lamb for over two hours. I decided to pick a little something(s) up for Rich for Father's Day and I bought him a card. It was like a Father's Day card for a friend. As my time out went on it was getting more and more hot and humid. I just dragged myself back here stripping off a layer of clothing and struggling with bags. I was so discouraged as by the time I returned I was in some significant pain. Thankfully, I did not have to worry about making myself dinner. It is evident to me that I am not quite ready to resume an assisted free life quite yet. So I did what I am really good at. I went to my room by myself and had a private cry.
I took a shower and attempted to pull myself together. I went to check in on Rich and there he was in his room, in his wheelchair FAST ASLEEP!!! I had purchased an "S" for him. An "S" is a surprise. I just rubbed his shoulder and he did not stir one bit. Yeah!!! It turns out that he had been asleep for 2 hours straight. That just never happens with him at that time of day. When he was better over the winter, he may be able to sleep about an hour a night. When he awoke, he was brighter than I have seen him in months.
I have to keep pushing myself to get out of here if even for only 15 minutes everyday to build up my stamina. I was lulled into false security with physical therapy.
I have warned Frick and Frack that there will be snoring tonight and even the possibility of my snoring the wallpaper off the wall.
Goodnight, my angels. June 16 MY RESUME....CAN WE SAY DIVERSE?When I think back on all of the jobs that I have had in the past, it does make me laugh.
Of course I stared off at 16 working as a "soda jerk" at our local pharmacy. It was a great way to meet the locals. I did however run into a problem with scheduling as I went to school two towns away so I could not begin work until 3:30. This pharmacy knew this when they hired me. I believe a did a good job for a young naive girl, putting up with some of the regulars. About 6 months into this job, I went to get my schedule and I was not listed. Hmm I showed up on my usual Saturday and was told that I had been fired the previous week. I had heard that this happened once to my aunt but she had the excuse of being deaf. Gee, no one thought to tell me I was fired and the pharmacists were outraged that this had happened especially the way in happened. That's okay. I'm only 16. I'll bounce back.
Within a month I had a job in retail at store that catered to mostly men. I was walking distance from the South Shore Plaza in my hometown. They did not need me to start until suppertime and out at 9PM. I remember showing up to apply for the job all dressed up and wearing white gloves (yeah I'm that old) I really think it was the white gloves at the interview that got me the job and of course I did not wear them working.
I had a customer who, get this, wanted to return a suit as it was a mess. It turns out either he or his wife put it in the washing machine! Are you kidding me? Oh, quite an argument in-sued, involving the manager, the salesman, with me in the middle. The customer kept throwing the suit on the floor and I kept bending down to pick it back up. After doing this four times, I spoke up at the tender age of 16. "Sir, this is getting silly. Do not throw that suit on the floor one more time. By now you must know that you are not getting your money back, but if you keep throwing this suit on the floor, you won't even get that back." Both the manager and salesman were grinning as I stomped away. The very same day we had a customer who was paying cash for his suit that he had come to collect after it had been alerted. A smoothe transaction so I thought. He left five cents in change. I am yelling after this customer "Here's your nickel" but I went to the tickets I had in front of me to look for his name, my yell was "Here's your nickle, Mr Pickle!" Ohhhhhhh I wanted to hide and the gentleman simply laughed and kept on walking.
I did make an attempt at waitressing. I was so out of my league and knew it. As I was under 21 I could take a drink order, but not fill it. So I was at the mercy of the other waitresses. They were most ammused by the spelling of the drinks. On my next to the last night (Thank goodness I had quit to return to retail) I took an order from a party of six. They all wanted the double lobster special. I went into the kitchen, keeping in mind that the cooks could not stand me as I always but the order with the wrong chef. My waitress number was 13...........figures. I placed the order in the correct place. I returned to the kitchen to collect all six orders with all the fixin's. I push the door to depart the kitchen and CRASH!!! Twelve lobsters, melted butter, the works were on the kitchen floor. Did I happen to mention that I had weak wrists? The cook who dispised me the most, very calmly said, "Number 13, take a breath and take a long walk around the dining room. I left the kitchen red faced, trying not to show my upset. A girlfriend of mine, who also worked there came to me. "Eileen, Eileen, you won't believe it.!!! There are a zillion lobsters all over the floor in the kitchen!!" I replied, "Kathy, so you know who is responsible?" and of course she said no. "Well Kathy, you are looking at her." Kathy replies with something like "Holy spit!!" I must add that Kathy was drinking age and offered me a drink after work, which I did decline. My rule was "If you can't spell it, you can't drink it."
I raced back to 2 more years of retail.
By the time I was along in college, my dad wanted me to have the experience of working in downtown Boston. He had "an in" with Stone and Webster Engineering Co. Again white gloves at the interview. The job was as a typist. Now.......Those of you who have read anything here can see that I cannot type or proofread to save my soul. We were not on computers, so it was either type the entire contract over or see if you can get away with white out. These people were so patient and I held that job through my summers in college. But wow, this was my first time in the "big city" taking trolleys and the subways and going out to lunch with the business crowd. I was always dressed very professionally and yeah it was the 60s, so the skirts were getting shorter and you guessed it we had construction workers working on one of the business towers. My first attempt to get to lunch was a scream. Construction workers were whistling and hmm making remarks. I kept my head turned the other way. This was all so new to me. Once I realized, that's what construction workers do, I relaxed a bit. Eventually, I started having fun with these guys. Some days I would courtesy and other days I would blow kisses. I just made it fun. Near the end of the summer, we were going through the usual lunchtime routine, when two of the men approached me. They were laughing. They told me that I had been a real good sport about the whole thing and had made their days. They then handed me a gift. It was about 6 pairs of stalkings. I laughed and hugged them both. When I returned home to tell the story, I was not sure of the reaction I would get from my dad. To my surprise, he was pleased and proud.
The rest of my resume contains mostly teaching along with some insurance underwriting work, and bookkeeping, but the job I am most proud of is the year I drove a truck. Oh, not an 18 wheeler. It was just a big truck used to transport metal molds to be used in plastics. Okay, white gloved Eileen, was now wearing jeans, pink work boots, pink plaid flannel shirt and a cap. My boss loved it. I did not have to do any heavy lifting and my boss would pack up the truck and those at the plastics co would unpack it. The funny thing was the looks on the customers' faces. I would always get a second look as if to say "Is it a guy or a gal?" It was a wonderful P.R. gimmick. Dare I say, our orders increased?
I remember going to dances during that year that I drove the truck. So many men in conversation would ask me my occupation and I really could not wait to answer them, just to view the looks on their faces. I did date one man for quite awhile in CT who was also a truck driver, but he was a cross country driver with an 18 wheeler. He even went to a college right near mine so I think we felt related.
*************************************************************************************************************************
I have permission to walk to the store ALL BY MYSELF, so I think I had better rock and roll.
Now......................play nice.
XOXOXO,
Eileen
Just for yucks, write out all of the jobs you have ever had, you know the ones that do not always make it on your resume. I am just guessing here, but I think it may give you a laugh. June 14 STREET ANGEL...HOUSE DEVILMy brother Dennis was a classic example of a street angel and a house devil. Everyone just loved Dennis and why not, he could be so much fun. However within the confines of our household he was a terror with an outrageous temper.
Around my senior year in high school, we got to know a family of relatives that we never knew existed as they lived in upper state New York. By the time I was a senior, this family moved to Massachusetts. The eldest of this family was Kathy and she was a couple of years older than I. Of course she loved Dennis and refused to believe our inside scoop.
One summer our family took a vacation in Kennebunkport Maine and Kathy was invited. Kathy's invitation was a gift to her but also a gift for me, as I had no sisters and five brothers.
We stayed in Kennebunkport for close to a week and all was going well. When the day arrived for us to check out of the motel, it was still horribly hot. Instead of going straight home, my dad made arrangements for us to stay on Sebago Lake in a motel right on the lake. We were all thrilled that we did not have to go straight home in all the heat.
One afternoon, we kids were allowed to rent a rowboat and were in eye shot of my parents. In the boat were brothers, Paul, Dennis, Kathy, and myself with little Brian and John left with mom and dad. All was going pretty well and Dennis asked if he could row the boat. We all looked at each other and Kathy yelled, "Oh, give the kid a break." Okay..... Dennis was at it for all of five minutes struggling with the boat. Before we knew it along came some type of recreational ferry boat and we were straight in its path. Rules of the water state that the smaller craft has the right of way. This ferry with tons of vacationers hanging off the side are witnessing Dennis struggle. Paul begins to lose it and yells to Dennis to give him the ores. Of course Dennis refuses and we are basically going in circles. Now I jump into the act trying to be the voice of reason. Nope, Dennis is beyond out of control and cousin Kathy is in shock.
From a distance, I can see my parents at the shore taking in this show and not looking pleased. Okay, it was time for mutiny as the ferry boat is blasting it's horn. I can only recollect a lot of commotion and Paul or myself finally getting the oars. All of this horror probably went on for at least 45 minutes. We did finally make it back to shore and the poor ferry was able to continue. Those aboard the ferry did receive some extra entertainment at our expense.
We all get out of that row boat still yelling at Dennis. My parents were not looking too pleased, but really did not say too much to us. My brothers and I are glaring at Kathy yelling, "See, we told you about Dennis!!" Kathy just kept her head down muttering, "I never knew." We are now yelling at Kathy, "No one ever believes us, but that kid is trouble."
When my dad died in 2007, Kathy sent a lovely sympathy card to my mother and that is the story that she reminisced about in her card ending with, "I never knew."
I know that throughout this site I write about Dennis. He was just a one of a kind kid. Growing up, I was usually the one who could sweet talk him into behaving but none of my pleading and "Oh, honey" did spit that day.
Dennis is also one that as he got older marched to the beat of his own drum. My parents were prepared early on that he would make his own rules and live with his own consequences.
Ah Dennis, I love you more than my luggage. June 12 TIME FOR DUCKIE TO FASTEN HER SEATBELTIt is time for me to fasten my seat belt as I may be in for a bumpy ride.
After at least a month of my making noises to the doctors about Rich and now his family listening to me, Rich is going to be weaned off of methadone. Rich never used the drug to get high. Two and a half years ago he had half a lung and a rib removed due to cancer. He was left with more pain than most patients experience. After graduating from one narcotic to another due to building up a tolerance he was put on methadone about six months ago. This past April his dosage was increased and that is when a lot of horrible side effects began to show. Again, I am the first to admit that I am not a medical person, but it would not take a rocket scientist to see the close connection to that change in dosage and his declining health.
They began to wean him last night and this morning reintroduced a narcotic. The hour I spent with him last night was filled with tremor and sweats, but no more than I have been seeing for over a month. I wish I knew what the answer is for someone with real severe chronic pain. Our bodies just naturally build up a resistance to whatever drug we receive. There are natural relaxation and deep breathing techniques out there, but the pain still remains.
Years ago I went through something similar on a much smaller scale. I was taking medication for migraine headaches. Eventually I developed what is called rebound headaches. That is a headache brought on by my system craving the drug so my body would produce the pain that brought me to take the drug. There are so many doctors that are too quick to simply refill a prescription for pain, without investigating at least something like a headache diary in my case.
Rich's family has been around these days, but I am not sure how much hey respect his pain. Some in his family have gone the route of street drugs for that elusive high. Rich simply wants to get his pain under control and is taking a courageous step in agreeing to get off the methadone.
I expect that tonight he will have a rough night and probably a pretty bad day tomorrow. As we are at the weekend there will be no doctor for him to cry "uncle" to and he knows it. God love him, he was up once again early this morning making coffee for the other patients. It is just a part of who he is and the quality I am attracted to.
The most I think I can do is to get myself to the store, now that I have priviledges to get him some type of craft to keep him busy and to keep his mind off of his pain.
I am doing well with my neuropothy. The only thing I cannot understand is this overwhelming fatigue. Even Frick and Frack, my roommates have quieted down a bit these past couple of nights. My physical therapist explained to me today that the fatigue is probably from all the extra effort it takes for me to move around. Sorry, I'm not buying it. I should be able to live without assistance and I cannot figure what is holding me back.
I received a lovely personal message from a space friend last night. She is going to be in my "neck of the woods" in a couple of weeks and we are going to try to pull off meeting each other. Even if I am still a patient here, I can still leave this facility for a period of four hours. I am not revealing who this space friend is quite yet. When I told Rich about it this morning, he laughed as my first concern was "What shall I wear?" That has been a typical Duckie statement since I was a kid.
Have a great weekend, my duckies. I'll be around to check on you.
Play nice!!!
XOXOXO,
Eileen June 10 LAUGHTER THROUGH TEARS IS MY FAVORITE EMOTIONThat title has to be my favorite line from the movie Steel Magnolias
This morning has been very tearful for Rich and for me. Late this morning Rich's family arrived.( his son, Rick, his daughter-in-law, Elizabeth, his granddaughter, Serenity, and (get his one) his ex wife, Virginia.) They are all really trying to come up with a solution for what is in Rich's best interest. The son, Rick, has a known primary care doctor who is more than willing to see Rich. The one thing that Rich is fighting is spending any time in any hospital. I am backing off. The son wants the power of attorney to put Rich in the hospital. Rich has lost all of his privledges here at Embassy House after this morning and now cannot even go to the front proch without staff or a family member being present. Frankly I was amazed that the is able to do this physically after the condition he was in last night and this morning. As the conversation was of a confidential nature, we all adjourned to the front porch. Let's add to the mix that the granddaughter is like a day without sunshine, ( Just give me a half hour alone with her LOL) It may just be that she could pick up on the tension component of the conversation. Then the EX lets the not well behaved dog out of the car and on to the porch. I just "love' hearing "Oh, he won't bite." as the granddaughter is hitting the dog. In short it was an awful morning.
I returned to my room alone, trying to figure things out, pleased that Rich is better than he was a few hours ago and my tears were starting to creep up on me. Just at that moment a package was handed to me. It is addressed "Eileen 'Duckie' White" blah blah blah USA!!! Oh the timing could not have been more perfect! The package contained 3 Perry Como DVD's. My first reaction was aww, how sweet. Upon further investigation I see typed on these DVD's the following........"to be taken at NIGHT when required. If sleepy next day do not drive/use machines. Avoid alcohol." The DVDs had written on them "To Eileen. Love always" with Perry Como's signature, Oh the literature in the packing is even funnier, craftly put together by my very dear space friend Simon!!!!!!!!!! I had to run down the hall to show Rich. Yoe Simon, you made Rich laugh. The thought put into doing all of this is everwhelming!
I have to go for my physical therapy, but you can be sure that tonght, Rich and I will be "grooving" to Perry.
I don't think I have any emotion left in me that has not been displayed today. Rich is nearing the end of his life. I have promised him that I will walk down this difficult road with him and we will do it with style.
I know I keep saying this, but I do have the best network of friends. Please be assured that I am doing my best to take care of Duckie. So many of you are holding me up through a difficult time.
For the rest of today, it's physical therapy, POWER NAP, supper, and Perry with my sweetie! All in all, not a bad way to end a day. Don't you think?
XOXOXO,
Eileen 'Duckie' White
NO COFFEE THIS MORNINGI was awakened quite early this morning by some patients looking for the coffee that Rich usually makes. I found my way to Rich who has gone through 2 different but close episodes of being without oxygen and he has become more than confused. The first episode, his electric chair pulled too far from his oxygen supply. Normally when he leaves his room he switches to his portable oxygen tank and for all I know he is so out of it, that he nods off trying to do this. The second time, he was found by a patient with the portable oxygen tubing wrapped around the foot of his chair and again not in his nose. The nurse was able to get his oxygen sats to a better rate. It is 8:45am and he is so out of it, he cannot even drink the coffee I brought him.
I have been yelling "The sky is falling." for some time over this man. I cannot believe that the staff is even allowing him to be left alone.
I have taken this laptop to his room along with my cell, just to keep an eye on him. The night nurse did elude to me that they are considering decreasing his meds. Rich, when he knows that I am the one in the room, just cries. I'm sure he must feel like he is on a run-away-train in his body.
I still cannot get over the number of patients who were more concerned about the coffee he makes for them early in the morning than about the person who always makes it. We always get coffe on our 8am breakfast trays. I did put the coffee on myself and not one "How is Rich?" was uttered. I will say that the patient who found and got help for Rich was my buddy Ralph. Ralph can be one royal pain but when the chips are down, amazingly he comes through. Some of you may remember my type-o "What's it all about Ralphie" instead of Alphie. It occurred because I do sing to Ralph, "What's it all about Ralphie"
As ever.........
"And until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand."
XOXOXO.
Eileen June 08 I AM IN OVER MY HEAD HEREI am in over my head concering my friend Rich's medical condition. I have no medical training and am not posing to be something that I am not. What I am is Rich's friend and he continues to decline with health issues that no one here seems to be addressing. He has a signed letter on his chart that states that I may be included in any medical discussion. I am not his medical proxy, but I am the one who sees him everyday. We have one doctor who comes to this floor ONE day a week. A patient may or may not see this doctor even if it is charted that the patient requests it. I was with Rich a few weeks ago attempting to describe Rich's symptoms, which are getting worse everyday. This Dr. P has just passed it over, but has requested that Rich be seen by a neurologist contracted by this facility at the end of this month. I question how long it will take that doctor to at least order approptiate tests.
I feel like I am pulling my hair out trying to get staff attention when some of these symptoms present themselves. He use to have most of his trouble, mimicing petite mal seizures, beginning in the evening. Now Rich seems to be at it all day. There are times recently that I can barely get him to make sense. In the meantime Dr. P has put Rich on Ativan, which is a relaxant. This has made the condition worse and Rich now plays a game of taking them and then spitting them out as he thinks they are making him sicker. I do not know who is correct here, but Rich has been spiraling since April. He can only sleep in his bed if I am with him for a bit. I cannot take on doing that every night. We have nurse's aides here that should be able to spare at least a half hour from time to time. My roommates Frick and Frack seem to keep them hopping for hours in the evening over stupid house cleaning, and "Oh, reheat my dinner that I slept through 3 hours ago, but wasn't ill."
Rich's son was here today and I gave them their privacy. I am wondering now if I should get more assertive with the son. I do have his email address.
There is a strong part of me that says "Stay out of it, Eileen." but there is also something that says get that whistle out. It breaks my heart when I see some here who do not seem to have a voice. They are usually the ones without family involvement.
I am here thinking is this the way all skilled nursing facilities are run? When my dad was in a nursing home, his primary care physician was involved.
Tonight, I asked Rich who is primary was. He does not have one as he has moved around so much. This seems to be the case with so many of these patients. One doctor for a 140 bed facility that appears one day a week. Oh, aids patient Rhonda who is on hospice can get this doctor to be called at any hour, but what happens to everyone else?
I would yell, but I do not know to whom to yell. If there is anyone out there who knows "the system," please let me know.
On the positive side...............drum roll please...........3 weeks without a cigarette!!!!!!!!! How cool is that? Too bad I'm such a bitch.
Goodnight, my angels.
XOXOXO,
Eileen June 07 MY ALL TIME FAVORITE TEACHING ASSIGNMENTIn 1998 I fell into a teaching position in a school located in Jamaica Plain in Boston. The way I "fell" into this job is a blog all by itself. This is a school that had a great amount of diversity in the student population, concerning race and background. My first taste of this school was my interview with the principal, Mrs. M. She and I spoke the same language so to speak. We had the same philosophy of education and the same sense of humor. The afternoon of my interview, the pastor just happened to be standing behind me at one point. I was not aware that he was there, but was told later, by Mrs M that he was gesturing two thumbs up.
I was given an 8th grade homeroom and taught mostly math, science and one religion class to 6th, 7th, and 8th graders. This was not an affluent school but the students that attended were so grateful to be there. Many were there on scholarships that I belive were given out by this school. I am still not sure how they were able to offer cuts in tuition as other schools would not even entertain the concept. The students' world at school was safe and structured.
On the first day of school, I went storming into Mrs M's office. I told her that there was a serious problem wiht my class schedule. "What is it, Eileen?" Oh yeah, she bit. I yell, "No nap time!!!!" That was it. From that moment we were the very best of friends. For the short time I was there Mrs M. kept after me as she wanted to mentor me as she believed I had what it took to become an effective principal. I answered her by saying, "I have seen your job and I don't want it.!!"
It was my 8th grade that really put me through the paces. It took me a good 2 months to win them over. I promised them that I would never embarrass them, and I kept my word. They figured out that I was not the enemy. One, little Timmy, in a teasing way told me that as 8th graders, their class trip was to be a ski trip. Inside I was dying but told Timmy in earshot of the rest that I would not take his class "across the street" as they could not master the art of walking in a straight line. It's true!! I will bet to this day they can't. Today I even wonder if any of them ended up in the military. Oh, to be a fly on the wall for that one.
One day I announced "Class, we are going on a field trip." Their jaws dropped as no permission slips had been sent home.
I then told them that I was taking them "across the street." With confused looks from the children, no permission from the principal, off we went. So help me, you just had to be there. I am walking with the class behind me and was allowing some quiet talking. Oh yeah Eileen, you have this crowd under control. I turned around and could not get over what I saw. These kids were in clumps all over the place. I was half laughing and yelling, "Stop and look at yourselves." Now they were laughing too. We never made it to our destination, which was the church across the street. I had them turn around and headed us back to the school. (Hmmm Eileen did not think this all the way through as we were locked out of the building.) I rang the bell and the secretary opened the door for us. The principal was peering around the corner, and no words came out of my mouth. Mrs. M finally asked little Timmy just where we had gone. I could hear little Timmy's reply. "Well, Mrs M, Miss White really did try. She just wanted to take us across the street, but we couldn't pull it off. We may be, what do they call it??..."line challanged?" Mrs M ducked back into her office to hide her laughter.
One afternoon, Mrs M asked me over the classroom intercom if I would send 2 responsible 8th grade students to her office. I told her that I would try but that we were learning about "Oxymorons." She quickly got off the intercom to laugh.
But there was just something about that school that was greater than fake field trips. This school, pastor, principal, teachers right down to the staff with the most meger of jobs really cared about all of these children.
I had one student, James, who's parents really did their research to hand pick this school. James had "a different style of learning" but it was agreed that he was very intelligent. He was allowed to leave my class in the middle of a lesson if he was restless. He was an only child and his father was dying of cancer. One afternoon he and I were just talking during a free moment. I asked him, "How is your mother?" He looked at me in shock. He told me that no one had ever asked about his mother, only his father. James was feeling down as he did not know what to do for his father who was so sick. I told him that there was a time that I was quite ill and a very close friend of mine decided to read to me and that I just simply loved the sound of his voice. James returned the next day all smiles as his attempt at reading to his dad proved to be a good experience for both James and his dad. James got into a habit of reading to his dad once a day.
I had a 6th grade student, Justin who always seemed to be in trouble as I heard his named used a lot by others. His class "had the reputation" of being a difficult class, so from the beginning I held the ranes tight and slowly loosened them. I had this class right after lunch and taught them the art of power napping at their desks for about 2 minutes and it worked wonders. One day around dismissal time, I cornered Justin. "Justin, my friend, all I hear is your name being used in a most non flattering way." He put his head down and said, "I know Miss White." Then I said, "But Justin, you never give me one bit of trouble. Why is that? Justin with a puzzled look answered, "I don't know, Miss White. I just don't know." Oh I laughed. "Have a good night, Justin. You are one special kid and deserve it. It's just a shame that I seem to be the only one here that knows it." We both had a good laugh. Justin left school that day looking straight and tall.
We had another student who's cousin was killed as a result of a drive by shooting in Boston. No school "program" had to be set up. We each tended to this student and the others in our own way. It was just one of those fluke times, when the staff just worked well with each other, with no direction required.
My tenure at this school was cut short as I had a falling accident just before Thanksgiving of that school year. This accident was very serious and nearly cost me my life. The school really tried to hold my position for me, but my recovery was slow and even today I could never hold down a full time teaching assignment.
This school did not abandon me after the accident. My principal came to visit shortly after I came home from the hospital and was staying at my daughter's. The first afternoon Mrs M came, she took one look at me and burst into tears as I was quite a mess. Then she sat with me on the couch quietly holding my hand. After some time, she said, "Eileen, I don't know what to do." I quietly told her, "You're doing it." Then we both cried.
Even the pastor came to visit more than once. My 8th graders made me the most thoughtful cards that I still have to this day. I recieved a very spacial invitation to attend their graduation in June. I remember them as a class on graduation day singing the song "Imagine" by John Lennon. It was powerful.
There was something great going on at Our Lady of Lourdes school when I was there and I am thinking that there have been many more to go through those doors to soak up its goodness.
Let's just know that there are places out there that deserve a great big TAA!! DAA!! Oh yes. Mrs M take a bow!!!! You, while overseeing in a vigilant way, allowed your teachers to teach using their own style. That my friends takes guts. June 03 THIS MY BE DIFFICULT FOR SOME OF YOU TO BELIEVEThis may be difficult for some/many/all of you to believe, but this was something I witnessed first hand.
Back in 1979, my mother's cousin to whom we all referred as Uncle Myles, as he was like a brother to my mother, had been suffering from rheumatoid arthritis for many years, beginning in midlife. He had a job working security for Sears and Roebucks. His arthritis was so bad that he could not even unlock his car to go to work. He would try not to show his pain in front of his wife and made sure that he was out of her sight before he would let down in the least. He lived in the Bronx and would wait for someone to walk by to help him unlock his car. He was in constant pain and went to the finest doctors in New York. They had run out of rabbits to pull out of their hats and were beginning to bring up the idea of a wheelchair.
Around that time, my mother had heard of a Catholic priest, Fr. Ralph D'Orio, from Rhode Island who was becoming known for having the "gift of healing" in Worcester MA, near where I went to college. My mother struggled with even mentioning this priest and his gift to Uncle Myles in 1978. She even prayed to his desceased mother for whom she was named and got a strong sence that it was okay and to follow through to write to Myles. In January of 1979, Myles and his wife Margaret flew into Worcester one night to attend this healing service. I was invited by my parents to attend so we drove out that night. We had dinner with Myles and Margaret and I could see that Myles could not even stand to be touched.
We went to the Cathedral in Worcester. Myles took one look at the number of staires just to get into the Cathedral and feared he may have had to turn around. One of the volunteers took note of my uncle's condition and helped him into the Cathedral and seated him near the front with his wife. My parents, some other cousins of my mother's and myself were seated about halfway down the aisle.
There were many there in crutches and wheelchairs and the Cathedral was packed. Fr. D'Orio began the service. There was music, prayer and praise. Fr. D'Orio also had the "gift of knowledge" and there came a time that he could describe the person being healed and what that condition was. I saw some come forward and "appear" to be healed. I do not know that I was buying it. Were those "healed" simply acting to put on a show? I did however get a strong feeling for the first time in my life, that the Holy Spirit was present. I did believe that in His day that Jesus did heal the sick and lame. I knew that Jesus could heal, but would he in my time here on earth to someone I knew so well. This was just all too close for comfort. This priest was very clear that he, himself was not doing the healing, but that he was being used as a CONDUIT for Jesus Christ. I remember simply having my eyes closed and I cannot tell you anymore about what I was thinking. I loved Uncle Myles very much and so wanted some relief for him.
Fr. D'Orio began to describe my uncle down to the color of his jacket. He said that this person was experiencing intense heat throughout his body. My uncle later told us that he was wearing a medal that his son-in law had given him, around his neck and that he had to put his hand under the metal as the heat of the medal was burning his skin.
My uncle approached the altar. I was stunned, but somewhere in me I still did not believe it was happening. The priest prayed over my uncle while touching his shoulders. He instruced Myles to join him in a prayer that the priest gave him the words to. It was the prayer of a sinner, asking for forgivness. Fr. D'Orio did spend a good deal of time with Myles and did not rush this at all. He then announced that my uncle was healed. I am still not really buying it. He then asked my uncle to walk up the aisle of the cathedral to the back. In absolute awe, I watched my uncle walk. When Uncle Myles got about halfway down the aisle, the priest instructed him to run. What? Uncle Myles ran the last stretch of the aisle and then ran all of the way back to the front. He was asked if he wanted to dance with his wife that he had not been able to do for many many years. They both danced in tears. Whew!!!!
When the service was over, my uncle was approached by someone in this ministry and instructed to get to his doctor straight away and not to stop any treatment without a doctor's order. My dad was in the men's room with Uncle Myles when he was washing his hands after the service. My uncle said, "George, look at this. My hands are completely smooth."
My parents and I returned home, and hour and a half drive, in complete silence. There were just no words.
My parents dropped me off to my husband and three little ones around midnight, I wanted to wake my husband up to tell him about what I had witnessed. Oh, I was making noise with the bedroom bureau, but he would not wake. I then went into little baby Emily's room and lest just say........hmmm she was all of a sudden awake and crying even though it was not time for a feeding. Hey, I was desperate to talk. I am certain that my husband thought I was becoming insane, but he knew the "before" Uncle Myles and eventually got to know the "after" Myles.
Myles did return to his doctor who sent him through a battery of tests. When the tests results were in the doctor, who just happened to be Jewish said, "Myles, sometimes we do see things for wich we have no explaination. You are completly well."
His healing never left.
Since then I have viewed a few healing services on TV and still have some difficulty swallowing what is or is not going on. That night in January, I was there and I knew the person healed up close and personal.
As I began this post, I know that this must be difficult to believe. If I read something like this on another site, I do not know what my reaction would be.
I will simply end with..........
"And until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand."
TEACHING A SUBJECT OVER YOUR HEAD AND ARTHURIn accepting a teaching job teaching math in Weymouth, I was also assigned to teach one science class. As a math teacher I shined but when it came to science I was in over my head. I remember living at home and going to my younger brother, Dennis, to ask him to demonstrate solar or lunar eclipse using the props of different sized balls. Dennis gave me hell. I remember him saying "Does that town know just how awful you are with this?" Hey Dennis remember I taught you your Latin when you were in the 2nd grade so you could become an altar boy. Did you ever see my horrible high school Latin grades?
I was able to slide through my first year without being noticed by the town's science chairman. I begged my principal at the end of that year to remove me from science and give me another math class. He could only substitute my science with history, so I declined.
I would watch the other science teacher with all of her props for wonderful science demonstrations. Me, I had nothin'. My 1st and 2nd year of teaching I had a student by the name of Arthur H. You may want to ask me just how I can pull up his name thirtysomething years later. He was one royal pain!!!! I did have a reputation of never sending a student to the principal's office for discipline. I took care of my own discipline in my own way. Arthur popped into my life in public when I was engaged to be married. What??? I just could not get away from that kid.
By the time I got to my 2nd year of teaching, I was closing in on having to leave as I was too far along in my pregnancy for the public schools to keep me actively teaching. It was a law(?) back then that a teacher could not teach after she was 5 months along. It just happened that my own doctor wanted me to give up teaching as being on my feet all day was effecting the pregnancy. Oh yes, there was also another law that a teacher could never sit at her desk with a room full of students. (Those were the days)
I had 2 weeks left to teach and who comes to observe my class but the science department chairman......UNANNOUNCED!! Aw rats!!!
Luck was on my side as my written plans for that class was to prepare them for a test the next day, something I was very good at. HOWEVER....Arthur H. was in that class.
I entered the class ( I was what they called a traveling teacher) with a look of "Don't even think of acting up." The class pretty much got my signal. I am fluffing up my teaching by giving these 7th graders tips on just how to study at home. Oh yeah, I was sucking up with all I had. Out of nowhere Arthur pulls out an instrument that was called a "jew harp.
If manipulated the right way it would give out a twang. I remember being in the student rows of the class as I usually move around when I teach, and I spot Arthur. I barely broke my stride, but gave him the strongest "mother look" I had within me and Arthur complied. Whew!
Later that day the department chairman approached me with his written report of my lesson. It was noted "in black and white" that "just a look from me could keep the students in line." His entire report was glowing. He had heard that I was told that I had to leave teaching in two weeks and went to the extent of calling the Superintendent Of Schools to request an exception in my case. I sat there with my jaw dropped. I knew I was the worst science teacher known to mankind. I believed that I even told him that I would re-check with my doctor. When I ever got home and first told my husband, but then my brother Dennis they were all in fits of laughter.
For all I know Arthur H. may hold a political office. Come to think of it, he does fit the profile. But Arthur gained me points with the Town of Weymouth's School Department.
Arthur where ever you are, thank you. Oh and by the way Arthur, put that "jew harp" away. Your grandchildren may want a crack at it. |
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