Plotting Against Him? I Stand Accused

My husband is very dependent on me when it comes to certain things. Saying that really is a polite way of saying that he is like having another child. I think somewhere along the way he was misled into believing that taking a wife meant getting a second Mother and relocating.

I don't suppose I can be to upset with the fact that he grew up believing this, I mean after all, I was misled myself. I saw Cinderella, Snow White, and Sleeping Beauty at the Fox Theatre when I was a little girl, and I bought Walt Disney's whole Princess marrying her Prince, glass slipper wearing, life's loaded with romance, bunch of mess completely.

These days, I understand the fact that Walt Disney needed a kick right square in it for misleading small children, and I have spent a good deal of time trying to help my husband overcome the fact that he no longer lives with his Mother. I will tell you he's having a bit more trouble understanding that concept, than I am getting over the whole fairytale thing.

To be perfectly honest, I am partially to blame for his dependence on me. I began taking care of him when we were only dating. I spent my days off from work doing his laundry, cleaning his bedroom, and making his lunch or going out to get him something while he slept all day. Three years later, when we were married, I wanted to be the best wife anyone ever had, so I continued to run around doing every little thing that I could for him.

Well, good job me! All this managed to do was spoil him beyond repair. He's 48 years old now, and I'm still doing all of these things and more. The reason I have this on my mind is because he recently said something I couldn't believe, not even coming from him.

One of the things that I do for him is put his medication into his little pill container for him to take each day. Well, a couple of weeks ago I was so busy that I decided that he was grown and could take care of it himself.

Do you think that he bothered to read the labels on the pill bottles, and take what he needed each day? I mean you would think that he would, considering that he is a diabetic and a heart patient(both of which can be life threatening) but no, he most certainly did not.

My husband chose another route. The same one my children take. It's called blame the wife and mother. It's the one where all things are traced back to being completely my fault. It's quite a bit like the Kevin Bacon game, and let me just say that they are all really good at it. Their ability to make everything my fault amazes me at times.

Okay, so back to the medication thing. This man went several days without taking any medication whatsoever, and then he comes into the living room one day and looks at me and says, very seriously, "I know what you're doing". I said "Excuse me?" He said "I know why you didn't put my pills in the container".

I just looked at him and said "Okay, let's hear it. I can't wait". He said "It's because you are plotting to kill me". I looked at him as if he had lost his mind, and I said "Are you serious right now?" He said "I don't know, you might be".

Well, Crack up! A grown man not taking his own medication, because he has chosen to remain oblivious to what those medications even are, and how they are suppose to be taken, was actually standing before me saying that I was plotting to kill him.

There was only one response that I could give him. I looked at him just as seriously, and I said "My God, you have figured it out. You are an absolute genius! I should have known, with all of your experience as a Detective, I never had a chance."

I must have been insane thinking that he was going to do what he needed to do on his own. The minute we were done with the conversation about it, I went and put his medication in the pill box for him.

Lord... if he doesn't take it and he dies my children could trace it all straight back to me and the empty pill box. I hear you can't have perfume, nail polish or cosmetics in prison, and to tell you the truth I'm just not willng to take that kind of a chance...like I said, they are all really good at it.

I can just see the headlines now: "Dick Tracy Dies When Second Mother Refuses To Organize Medications In Pill Box"....No..I'd just better not risk it....

The Love Of Her Life... Stolen So Quietly

My husband and I were recently in a restaurant together having lunch. We were seated and waiting on our food when two elderly gentlemen walked by our table on their way out,one assisting the other.

These two gentlemen were followed by one more elderly gentleman, and three elderly women, one looking a bit older than the other two. The eldest of the women was obviously the matriarch of the family.

She appeared to be in her late 80's to early 90's and was dressed in a manner that would have made Coco Chanel proud. She was wearing a suit and heels, complete with pearls and a manicure. She was both classy and beautiful.

As the group she was with began to make their way to the door, the woman stopped directly beside our table, and for the first time I saw her eyes. I made eye contact with her, and I knew immediately she had a broken heart, although I had no way of knowing exactly what had caused it.

My unspoken question about her pain was answered very shortly when her eyes filled with tears, and the other women and two of the waitresses surrounded her. With tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks at any moment, she began to speak.

She first gave an apology for the tears, followed by an explanation for her behavior.
She looked into the eyes of the waitress that she evidently hadn't met (the rest seemed to know the woman), and said, "you see dear, the two men that just went out the door were my husband and my son". As she pointed to the other people with her, she said "these are my other children (all of which appeared to be at least 60 or so), and we've been eating here as a family every Saturday for years, but today will be the last time that we are all here."

The waitresses asked her why that was, and she went on to say that her husband had Alzheimer's disease, and that her children were placing him in a home that afternoon. She said they felt that it had become to dangerous for her to care for him on her own, because he was becoming violent at times.

My eyes were filled with tears that had begun to quietly spill onto my cheeks by this point, and as she went on to say that they had been married and slept next to each other for 69 years. My heart felt an enormous ache for the pain and loneliness that I could only begin to imagine she was feeling. The love of her life was being stolen away by this terrible illness.

The tears spilled from her eyes as she finished her story and as they did, the waitresses let their tears fall also. They gave her a hug and walked with her and her children towards the door.

When she had gone I just sat there thinking about both the depth of the love I had seen in her eyes when she spoke of her husband, and what they had shared for so many years, as well as the look of heartbreak in them when she spoke of their lifetime together drawing to a close beginning with this physical separation.

I spent the rest of that weekend thinking about her and all that she was going through, and when I was able to get past thinking about the look in her eyes and the thoughts of her pain, I realized that she had been so greatly blessed in her life to have had a love that she felt so deeply, and that had been so strong and long lasting.

We should all be fortunate enough to have someone love us in such a deep way. So deeply that it can be seen in the other persons eyes when they look at us, and felt in our hearts when we meet their gaze...

My darling's, in case you haven't figured it out yet...what this woman had with her husband, and the family that they created, is simply by definition.. a rich life....

American Pride And Respect, Get You Some

The bell rings every morning for school to begin and we observe a moment of silence, which I personally use to pray. This is followed by the pledge of allegiance. I stand each and every morning for the pledge in my classroom, and if I should be out of the classroom I stop wherever I am, place my right hand over my heart,and remain in that position until the pledge has been said to completion.

All of the students in our special education classroom stand for the pledge as well. This is something that I feel is important, as it shows respect for our country.

As I mentioned, there are some mornings when the pledge begins that I am caught out in the hallway because of my morning bus duty. I have seen many teachers and students walk right past me, as I stand with my hand over my heart, and I feel they are showing a blatant disregard and disrespect for the pledge and all that it represents.

I have stopped in front of open classroom doors and seen students sitting in their desks not being made to do so much as stand up. I have taught students outside of special education and I have made them ALL stand during the pledge.

Some of these students did not mind letting me know that I couldn't "make them" recite the pledge because they have "the right not to say it". That may be true, but my response to that is unfortunately they are exercising another right at the same time. That right in my opinion is "their freedom to act like disrespectful, ungrateful idiots".

Understand that I am not talking about people of one certain race or religion that disrespect our country. The students and adults that I've observed are from all races and cultures including many that were born and raised right here in this country.

I had a student last week inform me in the hallway that he would never say the pledge and that those of us who do are "programmed". This student also said that he had written a song that was Anti-American. I'm not sure, but I think he wanted me to say that I understood.

There are men and women who serve our country each and every day sacrificing more than the average American could ever begin to wrap their mind around, and all for
very little pay.

There are Americans who have lost their moms, dads, sons, daughters, and spouses so that we could maintain the right to stand in a classroom and say the pledge of allegiance.

The People who feel as if they don't owe our country any respect or our soldiers any support and appreciation are the same ones who spend their days utilizing all of the benefits and rights that this country provides them with.

Don't get me wrong there are still some respectful students and adults that do as I do and give respect where it is due, and teach their sons and daughters to do the same, but for the ones who don't recognize the need for it, or lack a patriotic feeling of loyalty in their hearts, let me clue you in, it's called "American Pride and Respect" get you some, or move your disrespectful self to a country you do appreciate, and stop taking up space in ours.....

Visual Assessments

My husband is always looking at beautiful women when he is out in public. This happens both when I am with him, and when he is alone. I know that it happens when he's alone for two reasons. One, he's human, and two, he has reported back to me on more than one occasion that he's seen an attractive woman while he was out.

I have no clue as to why he feels like he is a mandated reporter regarding all such incidents, but I do have my suspicions as to why he felt the need to tell me the first time. I think it may have been because he came home with a slight head injury, complete with bleeding, that he felt needed my immediate attention.

He had been to the grocery store, and evidently saw an attractive woman as he was walking out. With his attention totally focused on her, he forgot to watch for fixed objects, and walked full force into a brick column, thus causing a small cut above his eye. He came right home, gave a full report, and asked me to put a band aid on the wound.

Another great example of this behavior happened just last week. He went into a store, that I had driven us to, and I waited outside. A few minutes passed by, and he came back out dying from laughter. I asked what happened, and he had no problem informing me that he had been staring at a "really pretty woman" and walked directly into another woman who was standing at an ATM machine, nearly knocking her down to the ground.

Let me just say that I have, in the past, been offended by the fact that he was looking at other women so openly with me standing beside him. I felt like it was disrespectful.

These days, after taking the time to be honest with myself, I am willing to admit the fact that I am guilty of the same behavior when I see handsome men, but with two major differences. One, I am much more discrete, and two, I have never felt the need to report such incidents back to him.

I have come even further in my thinking after the most recent of such reports given to me by my husband. I have decided that I have the right to be just as blatant with my visual assessments as he is with his. I'm not sure I want to go as far as reporting back to him just yet, but I'm not ready to rule it out for the future.

I may still be a little more reserved than he is in my assessing of other men. Not because of my husband, or what he might think, but because they may notice me doing it.

Maybe as time goes by I can become as relaxed about it as he is.......well..maybe not quite that relaxed....but then again, who knows?

Lord...I'd better go and put a band aid in my purse....

Getting Out Of The Box: Fantasy Football, And Other Great Activities

Several months ago I decided I needed to step out of my comfort zone, and try some new extra curricular activities. My choices have been limited in the past, due to my inability to conquer certain fears.

I use the word fear in its plural form, because I have many. Among them are things like chipping or breaking a nail, breaking into a full all over body sweat, public showers, or the complete lack there of, being clueless about the activity and looking like a complete and total idiot, or even worse, the chance for bodily harm.

As soon as my "get out of the box" decision was made, I began to think about some things I could do, and I actually tried a few of them.

Golf: I bought clubs, and a bracelet with charms. The charms were of things like a golf tee, a golf ball, a flag in a hole, etc.. End result: Clubs, in the attic. Bracelet, located in my top dresser drawer. Never been worn.

Camping, fishing, and Kayaking: This idea was put on the back burner for now, after consideration of all of the potential disasters that could occur should I go out into the woods with a tackle box, tent, and other equipment that would allow me to wind up in the middle of a lake.

Softball: Did it. Purchased an equipment bag, complete with monogram of my initials and number, got an actual team together, practiced, watched from the bench(in uniform)for about the first three games,to smoke it all over, actually played in the last five or so, wasn't very good, but I can report that I kept the umpires entertained.

After the softball adventure I decided I needed to slow things down a bit. My wheels were turning thinking about the things that I might try next, and then it happened. I came across an add for a fantasy football league on the Internet.

The next thing I know I had signed myself up. No research no questions. Keep in mind I knew absolutely nothing about NFL football, but I figured, what better way to learn?

The first thing I had to do was choose my players for the draft. Since I knew nothing about football, I knew nothing about player ability or statistics, so I did the logical thing and picked them by name. I say logical, because I just figured if I had heard of them, they must be really good. That's pure logic, right?

After the draft came the big decisions, like who to keep on the bench and who to play. The first two games came and went and my record was 2-0. In week 3 I asked my husband for help, because it was really getting complicated. People were getting injured, I was hearing terms like waivers, and bye weeks, and becoming more and more confused. He refused to help me, and so I turned to a friend of mine for advice. His advice was good and I became 3-0.

During week 4 I went back on my own, and I suffered my first loss making my record 3-1. This past week was week 5, and I am happy to report that my record is 4-1 and I am ranked 1st in my league. I know, crack up!! Right?

Lord only knows how this will eventually turn out (there are 16 weeks), but I will tell you that I have learned a good deal about football. Positions, offense, defense, passing games, rushing games, fumbles and so on.

Every Sunday now I get in front of the television with my laptop and launch my live scoring. I become so stressed and competitive I'm dangerous. I even yelled out at a player during a game like he could hear me. My husband called from the other room asking "was that you Arlene?" I admitted that it was, and have yet to tell him that I was a little shocked myself when I realized what I had done.

At any rate, I'm loving fantasy football and I've already decided that I'm playing again next year.

As far as what I'll do next, I'm not sure yet, but I will tell you that my friend just moved into a house on the lake....

Southern Without Embarrassment

There are quite a few things in life that I have great passion for. One of these things just happens to be the fact that I am Southern. I say this with pride, not embarrassment.

It seems to me that when a person is caught saying something negative about a culture different from there own people get up in arms and offended immediately. The thing that I find upsetting about this is the fact that the exception to this is any derogatory comment made about the South.

The prejudice against all things Southern is something that drives me insane. You hear it from ignorant people who don't mind walking right up to you and making some "great"(spoken like a true smart a##) statement about how terrible the South is in one way or another.

The people who make these statements with such blatant disrespect have no clue that by doing so they are telling us that "they just weren't raised right". You don't go into someones home and disrespect them or it. It is simply bad manners.

Unfortunately this occurs on a much greater level than these face to face encounters.
The media is also on board. I have heard criticizing statements from broadcasters of both news and sports,and seen ridiculous portrayals of our lives done with accents that make me cringe, in both movies and television.

An example in sports I can give you, came when the Braves made it to the world series. The national announcers had my blood pressure up so high that I had to turn the sound down on my t.v. and turn the radio on to listen to the local ones. Not only was it evident that they wanted the Braves to lose, but the jokes and smart remarks were rude, unacceptable and not even close to being cute.

The newest thorn in my side is that joke of a reality series called The Real Housewives Of Atlanta. Are they serious? Let me say,I was born and raised in Atlanta and I have never been more embarrassed by a representation of our city.

I would just like to take this opportunity to inform all of the transplants to Atlanta, that feel like all things southern are beneath them , that I-75 does in fact run north and Delta is ready when you are. We're over the disrespect.

The suggestion that t.v. networks and movie producers and writers, as well as newspaper editors and writers on a national level take the time to actually LEARN something about the south would, I am sure, fall on deaf ears.

Finally I have to say thank you to Jimmy (last name not important) for turning against his own Southern heritage by basically saying we are all ignorant southern racists. I have one suggestion for him, get out in the real south and meet and actually talk to people before labeling them racists. Obviously he is ashamed that he's southern, us all being such terrible people and everything, so let me add that we southerners feel the same way about him.  He is an embarrassment.

There doesn't seem to be very many people left like me who are willing to speak up about this issue, but then I'm living in an Atlanta now that is so diverse people actually hear my Southern accent and ask where I'm from.

The diversity is fine, but so is the love of home that I have for Atlanta, as well as my need for it to be respected. I respect the love of home others have regardless of where home is for them. For those of you not born and raised in the south that show the ones of us who were, and our cities respect, Thank you. For those of you who don't....respect shows good manners, and we're big on manners in the South in case y'all haven't heard.

Why is this the way things are in a world where prejudice and stereotyping are suppose to be such a huge no no? My guess would be plain ignorance, but the people who make these remarks and portray the south in such a negative way were probably born above the Mason/Dixon Line and would be hard pressed to agree with this explanation since they're so positive we are the ignorant ones.

I know reading this may upset some people, but I have to tell you just writing it has improved my blood pressure greatly...

Healing A Heart

My husband and I spent the last few weeks at an Atlanta area hospital. This stay was prompted by chest pains that left my husband doubled over and unable to speak. I took him to his cardiologist, at the hospital, who ordered a catherization of his heart, which revealed the need for triple bypass surgery.

Upon hearing that he would need this surgery, I did what I always do in times of crisis, I cried. I then tried to tell myself that bypass surgery is a procedure his doctors perform several times a week. I spent the time after the decision was made to do open heart surgery going back and forth between praying, being worried, scared and crying, and being rational and calm.

My husband and I had an entire week to worry, and let our anxiety levels build, because the surgery couldn't be done until all of his Plavix, a medication he has been on since receiving stints a few years ago, was out of his system.

He was admitted on a Tuesday and had the catherization. The Plavix levels were checked almost daily and it was finally determined that the surgery would be on the following Monday.

There are several things that had to be done the night prior to the surgery such as; blood being drawn every hour to test his glucose levels, and being bathed several times , in his case by me, with an antibacterial wash provided to us by his nurse.

Sunday night he obeyed all the surgical rules, and I bathed him and helped in anyway that I could. Bright and early Monday morning we were all set. I had prayed, hugged him, kissed him, and cried...it was go time.

The nurse came in and told him that transportation was on the way to get him, and then about two minutes later she was back. She then said that she had gotten a phone call, and that my husband's surgery had been "cancelled".

I was stunned. The first thing I did was ask her if she was serious, at which point she assured me that she was. I said "but I've already cried and everything." None of our protests mattered. There had evidently been an emergency or something that amounted to my husband being "bumped" from the schedule and we had no choice but to wait until the next day.

We tried to entertain ourselves by talking about some of the motivated workers we had encountered during our stay. They were numerous. There was one that my husband asked for clean towels who gave him a very quick response of "that ain't my job."

There was another man riding on a machine that seemed to be polishing the hallway floors. He was riding up and down the hall at the same rate of speed, ultra-slow, with a completely emotionless expression on his face until somebody said something to him about the fact that it was almost five o'clock, at which point he sped up and began turning the machine on a dime.

I also shared with him that I had gotten on the elevator with another motivated employee who was sighing and making noises to such an extent that I had to ask if she was okay. She said "No I'm not feeling good, and I'm tired." I said that I was sorry to hear that, and I asked her if she thought she might be getting sick. She looked at me, very seriously, and she said "No, but I worked yesterday." Wow!! Two days in a row...seriously??...is that like pulling a double?? I work five days a week ..I'll be dead if I'm not careful.

The waiting another day was hard, to say the least, and it meant that the bathing ritual and blood being drawn every hour had to be repeated that night, but we survived it. My husband is my hero, if it had been me, I think I would have lost my mind completely.

Tuesday morning he was to be the first "case". They came for him at around 7 a.m. and I cried again. The nurse informed me that I would need to take everything out of the room and move down to the ICU Red waiting room where the surgeon would have someone give me reports on how the surgery was progressing.

The first report that I received wasn't until 9a.m. There was a little patient representative reporter person, who gave these updates, and he came over and said "Mrs. Foster, the surgery has begun". I received a second report at 9:40. He said "Mrs. Foster, your husband is now on the bypass machine"..

This was information that I didn't want to know. I wanted to just yell are you insane?? Why would I want to know that??? I've got an idea. Since you're not a reporter for Star magazine I'm not going to be needing all of the gory details, let's try and use statements like "it's all going well" or "it's almost over"..

After that all I could manage to think about for the next few hours was that my husbands heart wasn't beating...I mean his valves were hooked to some sort of a machine or something like that, but overall it was just more than I could wrap my mind around.

When I finally got the report that it was over and had gone well I almost went down in a dead faint. I had been sleeping in a chair for seven days and had raw nerves as a bonus.

Two hours or so, after the surgery was over the little patient representative guy came over and informed me that I could "go back and see my loved one". I was both anxious and apprehensive about seeing my husband with all of those tubes everywhere, and hooked to all of those machines, not the least of which was the ventilator.

Again, I cried . After this initial visit, I was allowed to go back every two hours to see him. This happened three consecutive times, and I was asked to leave very shortly after arriving for each visit. Not by his nurses, or a doctor, but by my husband himself.

He was saying things to me like "Okay, I'm resting now" and shooing me out with hand gestures. I left and tried again each time until the third time when he said "okay, I'll see you upstairs". Upstairs meaning when he was moved from ICU to CCU. When he said that, I looked at him and said "so you don't want me to come back here for anymore of the ICU visits?" and he said no he did not.

I had a hard time with this because I wasn't even trying to talk to him, I was just standing there next to his bed. The allotted time for visitation in ICU was 20 minutes per visit, and I was getting 20 to 30 seconds at best. Well, needless to say I left with my feelings hurt.

On Wednesday afternoon, I got the news that my husband was being moved upstairs to CCU. I was so excited. We would be in a private room ( sleeping on a couch in the public like I had done the night before in the ICU waiting room has never been something I'm all that big on) and he had made it!! He was leaving ICU.

I grabbed the bags we were living out of, and headed upstairs to meet him. It didn't take me long to realize that he wasn't feeling as good about things as I was. He was extremely nervous and uptight. The first three days out of surgery we sat in that room together, in the dark. No blinds open, no TV, no phone, no communication, no noise whatsoever. For those of you who know me..trying to remain sane in complete and total silence ...well...enough said.

When Thursday rolled around the nurses were saying things to us about needing to "get his wires pulled". The first time I heard this I was like...Wires? What wires? I found out later that they were referring to small wires that had probes on the ends, and they were attached to my husband's heart. They were to be removed basically by being yanked out through two holes left in my husbands stomach from his drainage tubes.

The huge concern the nurses had for us was that if the wires weren't "pulled" by Friday we wouldn't be allowed to go home until Monday. As luck would have it, his wires were "pulled" on Friday, and on Saturday he was discharged.

The drive home was the longest ride of my life. We were told that he would have to ride in the backseat for the next month because his chest wouldn't be healed well enough to tolerate an airbag deploying. I was never happier to be home than I was that afternoon.

The past month has been an extremely hard one, but we were also reminded of how very blessed we are. We have family and friends that go above and beyond to help us in anyway that they can.

We had, and continue to have, prayers going up for us in numbers so large I would never be able to count them.  I met a prayer warrior by the name of Robin, who prayed a  prayer with me that I have never forgotten.  She prays with me now every other Thursday.  She is a great blessing. 

God slows your life down, and even though the process may be a hard one, it can be very valuable. Valuable not only for health reasons, but because it becomes a reminder of all that we do have on any given day, and so we stop to heal... as well as to appreciate....