Wednesday, February 1, 2012


Chris's dad passed away suddenly on Saturday. (Vern, Terry, Sandra, Marg and now Chris. FIVE friends lost their dads in the past few months.)

Am I at that age? Is this what my blog will become? An obituary of sorts... A running commentary of parent's who are passing?

So much grieving and sorrow out there...


I've been following McMama's blog for a couple years... she is a fantastic photographer and prolific writer and a few years ago, her fourth child, an uber super cute baby son, Stellan was dying of STV. Miraculously he survived, thanks to thousands of prayers, God's intervention and an amazing medical team. Stellan's story was making the rounds in bloggersville during that entire frightening season in their lives. Just after his second birthday, MacMama got pregnant again and now their family is complete - two boys, a daughter and two boys. Her and her husband packed up all 5 kids and 2 kittens, bought a used trailer and drove all over the States last year for months and months. Her 5 kids were all under 8 years of age. I was a little bit jealous of their adventures and attitude. So free. So fun. So many good pics.

These past few months they've been renting an old bug infested farm house and she has been making the best of it... homeschooling, making their foods from what they can grow on the land, while she does photo shoots to supplement their income.

Last week she seemed down. She asked for prayer.
Today? She announced:

My husband has chosen to leave our family.
The children and I are moving.

I am just so sad.
Reading her blog post today, and Dooce's posts this past week (her husband moved out recently as well) I feel their pain behind my eyes and in my stomach:
Sometimes the pain manifests itself in an inexplicable
 upset stomach, sometimes in a loss of appetite. 
When I know the kids aren't around I sometimes 
let it rush over me like it wants to and I'll sink 
against a wall, my face hidden in my arm.
Sometimes I'm really aggressive with the car horn.
The more I talk to other people who have lived 
through something like this the more I learn that 
the bathroom floor is a common place to lie down 
when you cry. Why there and not ten steps over 
on the cushioned bed? Because that's not poetic, 
and this kind of pain demands the kind of imagery 
that starts wars or lights up an entire city.

I wrote in my journal (well, by the end it was 11 journals) every single night, that entire first year I was on my own.
I chronicled every single morsel of pain. Every second of confusion. Every ounce of anger. Every sliver of hope.

And then, four years ago, I threw them all out, never letting anyone read them.

I'm so glad blogging wasn't available to me in those days (he's probably glad too) because, once that crap is on the internet, there's no way to make it disappear.

My heart is aching for Heather (dooce) and Jennifer (McMama). And others who are in the process of ending things. Why oh why are some marriages so very very hard?

New Topic:

Almost twenty five years ago I had a baby. I assumed I'd have it normally like all my friends, but after a hundred years of labor, he was delivered via emergency C-section. Know what one of the worst parts was? That after it was all said and done, and I had this kid in the glass bassinet beside my bed? I couldn't get out of that bed and use all those quarters that I'd brought to the hospital in anticipation of using the pay phone at the end of the hall to call all my friends and family and tell them that HE WAS HERE. And BIRTHING HIM WAS A NIGHTMARE.

I was hooked up to intravenous tubes and bladder catheters, (well, just one) and my legs were still paralyzed, and I was stuck in bed and that phone was so far away.

SO three years later when I was getting ready to go to the hospital to have another Oboy cut out of me, I didn't bother packing any quarters. I told Mark, who had recently gotten a 20 pound cell phone, that after I had the baby (gender was a surprise in those days) at 9 am, I'd need him to leave me his cell phone with me when he went back to work at 10 am. He agreed to let me have it that afternoon, but the other five days of my hospital stay I was unable to keep it, as it was a work phone to be used for business purposes only.

SO three years later when I was getting ready to go the hospital to have another Oboy ripped from my gut, I didn't bother packing quarters or asking Mark if I could borrow his new flip phone. I asked that he get me my own cell phone so I could call my mom and sister anytime I wanted through out my entire hospital stay.

He agreed and got one of his employees to arrange a cell phone for me.

That was 17 years ago.
Five years ago, I wanted to change my plan. But I couldn't because my name wasn't Anne. (Fictitious name of above mentioned employee.) So I called Anne and she agreed to go to Telus and change the  ownership of the account to me. She did. And then the telus store she did this at closed.

So I shrugged my shoulders and kept the same phone and the same plan.

Last summer I asked Mark if he could get Anne to make the necessary changes to the account, so that when I was ready to upgrade I could. He mentioned that Anne has not worked for him for years.

I called Telus, and they said that someone from Mark's organization would have to go down and sign an affidavit to turn ownership over to me. It took months, but Barb (new employee) (again, not her real name) got it all straightened out in the fall.

My current plan ends in a few months, so I'm all set to get a gadgety phone (maybe an iphone?) later this Spring.


I decided it was time to move more. More often.
With my hours back to 5-hour shifts per day, and with Drew not needing to picked up after school, I've got some time before dinner to sit on various pieces of gym equipment and try to sweat.

I threw some exercise clothes into my sparkly white travel backpack and planned on leaving work at 3 pm on Monday. I was going to work out. But then my work phone rang just before 3 and a skype call came through - and I ended up staying til 4.

Determined not to let one hour siderail my plans, I still drove over to the gym. The parking lot was full. I drove around it twice but there wasn't a single spot. So I pulled out onto the street, thinking I'd park there, but there were NO PARKING signs everywhere. By 4: 25 pm I gave up and went home.

I tried again today. My backpack was still packed and I left work at 3 pm. I arrived at the gym at 3:20 and got the last parking spot. When I walked in the front door, I noticed the reception area was filled with fitness trainers helping women fill out forms.
"Can I help you?
"Yeah, I'm interested in getting more information."
"Do you have time for a tour?"
"How long will it take?"
"Well, we are booked for the next half hour - and after that someone will be free to show you around and explain the terms ... that'll take another half hour."
"Hmm. Can I make an appointment for tomorrow?"
"Sure. This time tomorrow?"

So. I will try one more time. Tomorrow.

But whilst I was there, I looked at the facility from the front reception area. It wasn't as inviting as Just Ladies Fitness was (back in the day when I used to hang out there to watch TV from the comfortable laid back, big seated exercise bike). And? There wasn't a single TV on any of the walls. Not one.

Now, I am not a big TV watcher, but I know from experience, that the chances of me staying on that treadmill, or bike, are greater if I don't realize I'm on it because I'm all wrapped up in Ellen or Walton's reruns on TV.

So. No TV's.

I'm going to be stuck with my thoughts to keep me company while I'm spinning or pushing.

And then. THEN I realized that I should have something to plug into my ears while I'm in this place. Something like ear buds that will deliver music to my brain, or a Ted Talk to my mind, or an audiobook to entertain my soul.

Maybe I'll just go get that iphone today. It would be handy -  it might help my motivation to walk, or work out. I can credit the iphone as the best weight loss equipment ever invented. I could take photos with it. I could text my kids with it. I could use it as a flashlight when I drop something in the truck.

So I left the gym and drove over to the Telus store.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes. I'd like an iphone please."
"What's your phone number?"
He punches in the numbers and looks at his screen. "Are you Anne?"
"Nope, I'm Jane."
"I'm sorry, Anne is the only person who can upgrade your phone or change your plan."
"Anne is dead."

No I didn't say that.
I SHOULD have said, "Why yes, I'm Anne. Pleased to meet you."

I explained to him and to the head office Telus people on the phone that the management company that Mark and I set up when we set up this account SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO has been dismantled. There is no such company any more. And Anne? Is long gone.

"I'm sorry. But Anne needs to come in and sign an affidavit that transfers ownership to you."
"This is my phone. I've been paying the bills for 17 years. Anne is not available - she is gone. It's over. The company has closed down and the marriage ended. Honestly. Are you telling me I'm being held hostage to a contract that I can't get out of because 17 years ago an employee was doing her job and set up an account for me?"

"Sorry, there's nothing we can do."
We hang up the phone, head office is not any help.

I look at the young kid who has lost interest in helping me.
"OK. Can I get an iphone in my own name with my own account with my own plan? I'm going to walk away from this other old one."

"Sorry, you can't do that."

I am going to have a fat ass and an old flip cell phone all the live long days of my life, forever and ever AMEN.

Three things I'm thankful for:

1. Canuck's won. There were 5 happy teenaged boys in the house.
2. It was payday today. Just in the nick'o time.
3. One of my former co-workers, Bonny - has started a blog... yay, for pretty blogs.


1 comment:

ramblin'andie said...

Fancy new phone aside, have you tried She's Fit? It's just down the road from work, has televisions on the wall, and (granted, I haven't bothered going there in ages but) it's never been busy when I've been there.