My Mom's Heart

In preparation for today's post, I asked my mom for her permission to talk about her.  Her response was well received.  She feels that if anyone can take something positive away from it, it's a good thing to share.  Some of the details I couldn't remember.  She was able to provide the missing information to fill in the gaps for me.  This was almost 20 years ago, yet some parts are vivid in my memory still and I assume always will be.



"I need you to get up and do something for me.  I need you to call 911."  My mama said to me.  I was 11 years old when my mother came to my bedroom early in the morning before it was time for me to get up for school and calmly asked me to call 911 for her.

She tells me that any other morning, our large black lab knew what it meant to "go wake Tiffy up" and he'd come to my room and pester me until I got up.  But this particular day was different.  Our dog, Duke wouldn't leave my mother's side.  He knew there was a problem.

She had a blanket wrapped around her, with her pajamas underneath.  She slowly sat down on our maroon couch in the living room with no lights on, just the light that came through the window as the day was just beginning it's start.  She had pain and couldn't get comfortable earlier in the morning and my dad had even offered to take her to the hospital.  She declined, saying she'd be fine.  She moved to the couch, dad went to work.  She says she was able to get a bit more sleep.  And in her words she says, "The next time it woke me up I knew something was wrong, and at the same time, knew that it wasn't my day to die."  Thinking it sounded crazy, but she says she just knew.

I must have been in some sort of shock.  I don't remember crying right away.  Mom was telling me that I had to call 911.

"I'm having chest pains and it's hard to breath.  My arm hurts.  I might be having a heart attack."  She told me.

I picked up the phone, carefully dialed 911 for the first time in my life.  I spoke with the dispatcher, gave them my name and hers.  I told them where we lived and answered all of the woman's questions.  She wanted to know where my mom was,  I let her know that it was her who had requested I call and that she sat here close to me, talking and breathing.  

Our local EMT's showed up soon after, (I grew up in a small town, fire station wasn't far away).  I recognized some of the men who were there from the community, only this time they were dressed differently, being in uniform.  They crowded around her, listening to her heart, checking her pulse, taking blood pressure, and giving her much needed oxygen.

My mother, the stubborn woman that she is, refused to take the ambulance ride.  She knew it's expense and knew our family would have trouble affording it.  You see, my parents both worked hard and we lived paycheck to paycheck.  They provided a wonderful home for me, everything I ever needed.  And the reason they were able to provide for me, was likely because my mom was a penny pincher.  She knew how to make her money go as far as it could.  And this was one of the corners she was willing to cut.  At the time, I didn't necessarily understand why she didn't want to go with them.  But she refused.  She stated she would wait for my dad to come home from his job.  Dad worked 30 minutes away from home.  And had likely been at work since the wee hours of the morning.  If he was out on a job, he had to get back to the plant and then leave to come home.  Who knows how long that could have taken.  She later recalls that the ride to the hospital (which was approximately 35 minutes from where we lived) was a painful one.  In retrospect, she wished she should have gone in the ambulance.

After that, my details are fuzzy.  I can't remember if I went to school or not.  At some point, I was at the hospital during one of the tests she was having.  I can recall that she wasn't allowed to move.  She couldn't sit up or move her head much to either side.  She was flat on her back and extremely uncomfortable.  She had to stay that way for numerous hours.  And she was NOT happy about it.  Despite her being upset and most likely in a lot of pain, she still looked over at me and was smiling.  She is also not one that likes having the attention entirely on her.  She's not quite the extrovert freakazoid that I am.

Over the course of the next 19 years, she's had other "episodes" and a second heart attack.  Having stents placed, meds changed, and then sent home to continue to eat like a rabbit.  She has multiple specialists and does everything in her power to keep her body healthy.  It's not her fault and it's not fair.  My mom always used to say to me when I was a kid, hunched over the toilet throwing up, sick to my stomach...  "I would take away the pain if I could."  or "If I could throw up for you, I would."  Sounds gross now as I write it.  But my point of this statement is that I know what she meant.  If I could take away her crappy heart and have it for my own and be the one to have heart attacks and stents placed so that she didn't have to, I would.

My mom is the strongest woman I know.  It's not her weak, unhealthy organ that causes her fits that I adore.  But the big, bright, healthy heart that lives in her soul that is so beautiful.  That is what makes her the woman she is.  Love you, Mama!!!  -Sugie

**If you can take anything away from it, my mother would want you to take this much... don't put it off when it come to health.  Man or woman, adult or child, take care of yourself.

Here's my "Share"

Take my advice.  Maybe just this once.  

Our society today relies heavily on the use of our cell phones.  I'm writing my blog post on my cell phone, so by no means am I preaching to get rid of them.  However, we text more than we call.  We never leave home without it.  And in some cases we don't even touch our family as often as we touch our cell phone.  The average child believes in their heart of hearts that they have a RIGHT to have a cell phone.  The average teenager looks at his/her cell phone over 200 times/ daily.  

Here is my stand on it.  Some will disagree and that's okay.  It's devastating to know that you are no more important to someone than the wonderful world of social media or text messaging your "friends".  When someone is immersed in scanning their feed, they don't see you, they definitely don't hear you.  And despite being in the same room, they aren't with you. 

I'm not against social media.  I partake when I'm bored at times.  I set aside 10 minutes a couple of times a day to look at a couple of apps that I enjoy.  But when I get home at night, unless my cell phone is ringing or I receive a text message from a member of my family, it's typically ignored.  I don't scan social media multiple times daily because none of my acquaintances have posted that many times in 1 day.  And if they have, I've likely "unfollowed" them.      

I use my cell phone constantly to get directions in the car.  I google things that I want answers to.  But I can honestly say, I don't use my phone as a distraction from the real people in my real life.  I focus on the people that surround me.  And if I don't do a good job of it, I'll try harder next time.  

I want to use my phone as a resource and a means of communication.  I am constantly reading and researching things on my cell phone.  It is NOT used as a distraction.  I want to spend my time with my family, without my face being lit up by the glow of a phone.  

Life is hard some days, so the need for a distraction is sometimes welcomed.  A place where you don't have to think, just flick your thumb upwards, I get that.  I have those days sometimes too.  

In the end though, at the end of each day, I want to remember people close to me.  Not something that somebody said that I "liked" on social media somewhere.  Can you truly make a memory with both hands glued to your cell phone?  Can you enjoy someones real company and be there for them to support them or listen to them if you're reading about what some friend or your co-worker's cousin's ex-BFF said on social media or are 17 acquaintances deep when you looked at who "she" was in a relationship with and saw that "they" were friends with that one "person" who was really attractive, and looked at their profile and saw that they had a bunch of big-boobed selfies posted... ?

Take my advice, maybe just this once.  Give the people around you the attention and respect a real human deserves, put your phone away.  Just try it.  

OCD

My name is Tiffany and I have OCD tendencies and am kind of a control freak.  I've known this now for a number of years.  I am unable to change it and have chosen to embrace my freakish ways.  

I'm willing to share here a few of my Tiffany-ISMS.  I feel that as long as I'm willing to admit them whole-heartedly that it makes them okay. 

First of all, the most important one is that there IS a correct and an incorrect way to load a toilet paper roll onto the dispenser.  The new square should always feed on the top of the roll.  The other way is obviously backwards.  This rule, to my mother, is ridiculous.  My mother also has OCD tendencies, so the fact that she does not feel this topic holds the kind of importance that it does, baffles me.  

I shall share a quick story.  The last office I worked in had a large number of employees with multiple restrooms.  The restroom closest to my desk had approximately 8 stalls.  When I enter the restroom, I always go to the same stall.  And every day the toilet paper was installed into the dispenser incorrectly.  Nobody really knows the frustration that causes me.  

It's a wonderful thing if you have decided to be a good citizen and help take out the garbage.  Whether it be a chore that someone has deemed yours to take care of or you're just feeling helpful it doesn't matter.  The act of taking out the garbage is a multi-step process.  Please don't half-ass it.  You may as well not do any of it at all.

1.  Take full garbage bag out of the can. 

2.  Take said full garbage bag outside to the dumpster.

3.  Bring your happy rear-end back in the house and REPLACE the garbage can liner. 

Now, you have successfully completed the process.

I count stairs.  Yes, that's all there is really to say about that. 

I cannot wear a greasy film that some call lotion on my hands.  

There is a difference in the following words: their, there, and they're.  And if I see them used incorrectly on Facebook, I  will "unfollow" you. 

If you plan to travel in the left lane, please be patient and wait your turn to pass all of the slow ones in the right lane.  If you are one of the ones that will pass 5 cars all traveling the same speed, on the right and then immediately slam on your brakes and cut off all 5 vehicles.  Prepare to receive death glares from my rig.  

I hate the word moist.  

 

Whoever said "Practice makes Perfect" was lying.

"Keep your head down."

"Take another practice swing."

"I said, keep your head down."

"Don't forget to bend your knees."

Oh yes, bend my knees further... I'm a ridiculously tall super freak.  It's like I'm trying to take a squat on the tee box.  Swing, smack, watch it go, looks beautiful.  SPLASH!  Into the water.

"Great hit."

How on God's beautiful green planet was THAT a good hit?  It went into the water, like the other 13 balls I've hit and lost.  Sometimes I hit the ball well.  Other times, I feel like Alice from Alice in Wonderland playing a game more like croquet with a beaked bird as a club instead of this thing we call golf with my pretty turquoise themed clubs.

Golf shorts don't fit me right.  My legs are too long.  My white Nike shoes are getting dirty I notice as I walk down the fairway.  Why, oh why do I enjoy this game when I suck so bad?  I'm frustrated more often then not.  Yet, I continue to try.

Arnold Palmer once said, "Golf is deceptively simple and endlessly complicated."  A hit that I think will do me well in the end becomes disgustingly terrible.  And when I hit it entirely off the fairway and it looks like I won't be able to save myself from numerous strokes over par... I chip it up with ease and grace and save my bacon.

You see, this is new for me.  I began playing golf merely months before I turned 30.  We'll consider this one of those "new" things I'm trying in my 30's.  I'm fairly certain I'm getting worse.  I started with beginners luck.  Now that I try to improve, I get in my own head in an attempt to silently coach myself and stink up the place.

Can you hear the chuckling bird?  

I can. 

The struggle is real, people.  Golf is HARD!!  But I'll keep trying, because for whatever reason, it's fun to be out on the beautiful grass, spending time with people you love.  

Shenanigans for my 30's

It's time to try something new.  I've been on this planet for 30 years now.  Yes, here I am admitting (in writing) that I've just turned 30 years old.  Everybody keeps telling me, "30's are the new 20's" or "My 30's were way more fun than my 20's".  

Here I am, now in my 30's as people say and I need something to challenge me.  My work challenges me some days and people challenge me in my day to day life.  But I want to do something else.  Find an outlet to be creative.  

I recently attended a seminar.  The target for the seminar being the administrative professional... because technically that's what I am.  But more than that, I loved listening to the speaker talk.  And what I really got from her was finding something to really motivate me.  Find something that I really want to do.  Something that I've always wanted to do.  And for years now, I've wanted to write.  Am I good at it?  No probably not.  Do I know what I'm doing?  NO, definitely not.  But as the old saying goes, Here goes nothing.   
My joke has been for some time now, "I should write a book".  Hearing the crazy things that people do or say in my profession.  Sometimes you can't make this junk up.  "I should write a book" I say.  I have a ginormous family, "I should write a book" I say.  I have a lot of "likes" as the world puts it these days, a few passions (COFFEE among others)... "I should write a book" I say. 

So here is what I shall start with.  A new challenge.  I don't know what my blog will be about yet or if anybody will ever read my posts.  I doubt I'm ready to write a book.  But I will start with a blog.  I hope to find daily inspiration to write.