For those of you who follow my much neglected blog, that I cannot seem to part with, you know that my life is a series of roller coaster rides - highs and lows - with lots and lots of loopty loops {at least that's what I call them!} The past few months have been no exception, although while some things finally seemed to explode and then settle down, leaving me in a much better state emotionally - and because of that, physically - there were others that seemed to just continuously keep going from bad, to worse, to catastrophic.
Now, I feel I am in a much better place. Other than dealing with the sick bugs, and work, and a house that seems to be in an utter state of chaos and mess - things seem grounded finally. I hope it will stay this way for a bit. Maybe God feels like my shoulders need a break for a bit - I couldn't agree more! Read on for some details of the Crazy Chaotic Life of Me ...
I was up looking around the Willow House website, noticed the link for philanthropies that it supports, and clicked on it … in a word - chills. I had no idea that Willow House was a supporter of JDRF. My family has been supporting JDRF since I was four or five years old. I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes at the age of two, and my parents helped to charter and build the New Orleans chapter of JDF in the early 1980’s. You can imagine my surprise when I saw the big JDRF logo on the Willow House site! Being a new consultant, and having NO idea that WH supported this charity almost brought me to tears.
This disease has been a blessing and curse … no, it wasn’t a diagnosis of cancer, or another potentially terminal illness. It was, however, a lifelong “career” if you will, that I did not choose, interview for, or accept whole-heartedly; but it was one that I have had to manage every single day, even when I hated it, when I wanted to just play “dumb” and pretend that I didn’t have it, and every other day in between. Some of those days are quite cumbersome and draining – because it hasn’t been my only job.
I have two small children, two older stepdaughters that are 18 and 20 – one lives with my husband and me, the other with her mom – and a husband who, after 24 years of Active Duty service in the Air Force, retired two years ago. Before that there were deployments, TDY’s, separations, etc. It was the life I chose, and would choose again, but it wasn’t easy. I was left, in the beginning, having to be both mom and dad to two little girls who barely knew their biological mother, depended on their father for everything, and this new person steps in – bright eyed and ready - to be “mom,” cook, teacher, caregiver, chauffeur, supporting, loving military spouse, etc. You got the idea. Oh, and then a single parent AND step-parent on top of all of that.
But, those still were not my primary jobs … managing ME was, or should have been, even though most of the time it wasn’t. Everything else in our lives always came first. Did I mention that we moved to Texas after living in Florida for almost nine years {all of our marriage, until August 2009?} He took a contract job here at Sheppard, only to get an incredible offer with another company a year and a half later, that also does military contract work – overseas. The deployments don’t necessarily end when they retire …
Recently, I realized that given the dynamics of my life, and the fact that I do not live close to most of my family and friends, a “normal” job will probably never be in my future again. Between sick children, children with psychological problems stemming from the lack of a relationship with their biological mother, a spouse whose job takes him away from home – and really, even if he was here, he would be working - and any other calamity, illness, virus, death, etc. that happens in my life, affects my primary “career” – the one I did not choose. It effects my diabetes. When I get sick, I get sick – I don’t just “suck it up” and keep going. I physically cannot. I do not recuperate like a “normal” person. I have to deal with the ramifications of having high blood glucose levels for days - caused by whatever illness, virus, infection, etcetera - that attacks my immune system, the large/high levels of toxic ketones that my body spills into my bloodstream, medications that also raise those levels, and all of the other “fun” stuff that goes along with getting sick as a diabetic.
So strep throat is not just a round of antibiotics and ibuprofen, and two days I’m better. It takes days, a week even, to recoup from strep.
A stomach virus, or the stomach flu, that’s a big welcome ticket to the ER, filled with numerous attempts at starting an IV on someone who is already so dehydrated that they’re basically just using me as a pin cushion. Central lines are fun, and those are all too familiar. The stomach flu takes me out for well over a week, if I am lucky.
Then there is stress. We all have it in our lives. It’s a normal part of life. Money is tight with a recession. Jobs aren’t quite what you thought they were. People move into and out of our lives – especially as a military family. Family members get sick. Some even pass away. They may not be your “biological” grandparent, but he was someone who you only knew as your grandfather, because yours died before you were ever born.
At the age of 92 ½, the greatest man I’ve ever known finally went to heaven to be with his creator – and his first true love, who he was married to for fifty-four years. She was my great-aunt, which made him my great-uncle. Annabelle and Archie … and theirs was a love that lasted through sickness – she also had Type 1 diabetes, since her early twenties … and in health – she lived to be seventy-seven, I believe. A lifetime. He was devoted to her, cared for her … her deteriorating eyesight was the only main side-effect of her diabetes until she was much older. They met at a dance, during the age of the Greatest Generation – she was a tall, slender, spitfire of a lady, and he had the most amazing blue eyes you have ever seen. They danced, and traveled in their early years together. But as they grew older, she wasn’t as mobile as she had been when she was younger – but it didn’t stop him from caring for her any less. He stood by her side, every day of her life, until she died. I truly believe that a part of him died that day also. His one love was gone. He knew she was better off … no more shots, no more finger sticks, no more dialysis. She was “normal” again, and one day they would dance again. Together.
I am aware that this story seems to be digressing, but I am on track … I promise!
One day, out of the blue – sort of, but we all kind of knew – Uncle Archie told us that he had met someone. A lady friend. Someone to talk with, have lunch with, share life stories with. Her name was Margaret, but he called her Maggie. That day the spark appeared back into those stunning blue eyes. She was a widow, married for over forty years to her true love, Bud. He also had lost his sight, and she cared for him the same way Uncle Archie cared for Aunt Annie. The funny thing was, they all knew each other. They belonged to the same social clubs when they were younger – and a bit older. Many hands of cards were played, sets of bowling pins knocked over through the years, and in the end these two loving, caring, heartbroken souls found each other – and made a life together. For over fifteen years, Archie and Maggie travelled the world – cruises to Europe and the Mediterranean, paddleboat cruises up the Mighty Mississippi, and everything in between. The went dancing every week – to the sound of the Big Band classics of the 1930’s and 40’s. Oh, and they had their fair share of martinis, too. Gin martinis. On the rocks. One with water, one with soda. A peel of lemon – never shaken. He lived large … doing all of the things that he had hoped to do with Annabelle in their golden years. He saw the National D-Day Museum open – he was a charter member. He was veteran of WWII. He was a proud, strong, loyal, honest, caring, loving man who was loved by many. He was around when my babies were born, after being scared to death that something would happen to me in the process, because of my diabetes {it was why he and Annabelle chose not to have children.} But I beat the odds – which really are much better today than they were back when they were young – and had two healthy, full-term babies without too many complications on my side.
So, the stress of this man, my grandfather, dying and not being able to do anything about it, to not be able to go home and see him one last time and say “I love you” and “Goodbye” breaks my heart every time I think about it, and completely wore me down. It drained me. Emotionally. Physically. The fact that it was at Christmas, and I was working a retail job that was supposed to be fun and part-time, even at Christmas, and knowing that I could not go home for a day, because all of my time had been used up dealing with strep, and stomach flus, and sick children – physically and emotionally - completely wore me out. And Christmas came and went, it was possibly the worst Christmas of my life, because my parents could not be here with us – Uncle Archie was a father to my father, because his father died when he was barely twenty. He was a mentor to Dad, someone he respected and looked up to. A role model that any young man would be proud to have in his life. On January 22nd, my mom called me – at work – to tell me that he had passed away earlier that morning. The only thing I could think about was “how am I going to get the time off to go to the funeral?” I was stuck. And broken. Worried about a job that certainly did not worry for me. After working out some arrangements to have some cover a shift for me, only to have another not covered because I was the ONLY person that was available to work on that particular day, at that certain time.
I flew to New Orleans anyway, for the funeral of my grandfather – who really was not my grandfather according to the company – to say goodbye to my hero. As I knelt by his side, in the flag draped casket, he looked so at peace. Happy almost. Very dapper in his navy blue suit with his American Flag pin on his lapel. A flag that he defended and honored, all of his days. Happy, because he was probably dancing with Annabelle up in Heaven – unless, of course, she was playing hard to get.
The next two days were good … being home with my family, which I had not seen since October – that was a long time for us – was a much needed break from my reality. I was able to see my new little cousin, Amelia, who was born in June and is the little sister to my God-daughter, Ella Annabelle; and my adoptive niece Julia, born in July, who is the most precious baby daughter of my best guy friend {since the age of two} and his wife. I love them both! The only problem was that my babies were back home in Texas with another strain of the stomach flu. In good hands, and hopefully getting rid of it before I got home, I knew they were okay.
I flew back to Texas on Thursday, only to wake up to a ferocious onset of the above mentioned stomach flu – one that landed me not once, but twice ER with blood sugar levels over 300, large ketones, not able to keep anything in my digestive system. Two bags of fluids, anti-nausea meds, and strict orders for bed rest and a liquid diet for 72 hours were the only way I was leaving the hospital without being admitted. So much for any more time off of work – I had exhausted every second, minute, and hour that I had to use. I did call in, to let them know what was going on, and that when I was better, I would be back, and would put in my two-week notice.
Apparently having a chronic condition that lands a person in the ER for two days in a row, and doctors’ written orders to be on bed rest only constitute “not feeling well” and that my resignation had been accepted. I’m still not quite sure how that was possible when I technically had not given it in writing. The best part … since I missed more than my allotted unpaid time off, not only was I leaving so that they could find someone a bit more dependable {that truly pains me to say that, since I like to think that I am, and have always been, a dependable person} but now I was also considered not re-hirable with the company. Ever. Again. For any position, even a seasonal one. So, a job that I loved and looked forward to every day since I was hired {and I felt lucky to actually get hired} had turned into a nightmare. I do understand corporate America, the need for rules and guidelines because there is always someone, somewhere who takes advantage of situations. I did not think I was doing that. I was truly ill. It was one of those years where every illness that went around hit me, and my children. None of us have ever been sick, so much, in such a short amount of time. And usually there are exceptions to a rule, in a dire circumstance. I guess not this time.
Yes, there was a point to this long, drawn out babble … I am so happy to know that I am part of a company that supports a cause so very close to me personally, and I cannot wait to get started! And I am so very thankful to be able to work on my own terms, my own hours, and not have to worry and stress if one of my children, or myself, get sick. I feel like I can finally put me first and everything else will fall into place as it should. This past year, my faith was tested, and was renewed on a few select occasions, and I believe that God put this opportunity in front of me at just the right time. He always has a plan, and a path, you just never know where it will lead!
So, help me as I start this new adventure with a wonderful company that supports two truly amazing charities very close to my heart!
 | Sara Johnson Design Consultant Email: [email protected] Website: saramcj.willowhouse.com Phone: 940.228.7535 Mobile: 850.758.1105 |
