I got an email back from the medical director at work that it has never been discussed to euthanize Cindy Lou Who. They are running tests to determine why she keeps losing weight and in the meantime continue to search for a foster placement for her. As soon as I stinkin' move, that would be where I come in. She promised to keep me updated on my girl.
I noticed the last few days that when I went in, Cindy Lou Who had eaten all of her food! She's in 24/7 feedings, so she gets about a tablespoon of food uh... 5 times a day? Like all of the cats, she also has dry food available to her at all times. Although I was doing the dogs and J was doing the back cats last night, I asked if I could do my baby, and she said of course. Then she said, "Hold on. Let me get her something special." She came back with a can of yellowfin tuna. She said, "Dump out her dry food and give her kitten food; it has more calories. Then give her this. I bet she wants it all." Sure enough, Cindy Lou ate the entire can (it's just a 3oz can, but still!) of yellowfin tuna. We found 2 more cans hiding in the back, and I got 4 cans at the store on my way home. We're on a mission; Cindy Lou Who will not keep losing weight! We will sneak her the special food at night, after everyone leaves. It certainly isn't be the first time it's been done for a cat or dog, and it won't be the last.
But this is the time that really matters to me.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Real. Part Deux.
I woke up the next morning to find a note from Mom on my computer. It said that she knew I was just angry and didn't know what to do and that I didn't mean what I said, because I'd never say those things. That it deeply hurts a parents when she can't fix her child's pain. That she wishes she could, and that all she wants to do is make it go away when I hurt. It says that she's glad I called and that she hopes I'll continue to do so, because she's my mom and it's her job to help me. That some things are too big to handle alone.
I called Medical at work, and so far no one on their end is talking about putting my girl down. Last night when I made a trip to work to give someone a ride home as a favor (her car broke down), Cindy Lou Who had eaten all of her food. We sang and danced together :)
I emailed the Medical Director at work and asked that if it comes to putting her down, that I be notified as far in advance as possible. I asked that 1. I be able to adopt Cindy Lou Who as my own cat if they put her down, so she dies with an owner (to make me feel better) and 2. I be able to hold Cindy Lou Who while they do it (to make her feel better). As hard as it would be, I would do it for my baby. No response from C just yet, but I'm hoping I'll hear from her on Monday.
In other news, Sarah and Justin both came over last night to hang out and talk and do puzzles. We all had a great time. Then, J (my friend, and she will attest to that fact) called from work because her husband's car broke down and she absolutely had no way home, short of paying a cab $75. She lives 40 minutes from work, and so do I, so it's a long trip, but I absolutely know she'd do it for me. It turns out Justin knew the way and wanted me to ride in his brand-spankin'-new car, so Justin was nice enough to do the driving. I was happy because I got to see my Cindy Lou Who at work and see Joan for a bit. Anyway, we talked so much in the car, and I had to keep up with the obligatory "yeahs" and "uh huhs" that I came home and lost my words completely. Normally, a good night's sleep brings them back, but I slept terribly due to a migraine and so they're still not back. I'm a little nervous. I'm going to church to help with the kids tonight, and I won't be able to talk much, if at all.
It's times like this that I wish I had a portable text-to-speech (TTS) program like Proloquo2go. Chloe and I have been checking out the iPod touch and Proloquo2go, and we really like it. Unfortunately, it's about $259 for the touch and another $189 for the TTS, so way out of my budget, even during Christmastime. The Autism Waiver covers assistive technology, but I don't know if I can convince them that I need it, as I am sometimes quite verbal (just only about limited topics and limited periods of time). Wish me luck, though, as it seems like my only option.
I called Medical at work, and so far no one on their end is talking about putting my girl down. Last night when I made a trip to work to give someone a ride home as a favor (her car broke down), Cindy Lou Who had eaten all of her food. We sang and danced together :)
I emailed the Medical Director at work and asked that if it comes to putting her down, that I be notified as far in advance as possible. I asked that 1. I be able to adopt Cindy Lou Who as my own cat if they put her down, so she dies with an owner (to make me feel better) and 2. I be able to hold Cindy Lou Who while they do it (to make her feel better). As hard as it would be, I would do it for my baby. No response from C just yet, but I'm hoping I'll hear from her on Monday.
In other news, Sarah and Justin both came over last night to hang out and talk and do puzzles. We all had a great time. Then, J (my friend, and she will attest to that fact) called from work because her husband's car broke down and she absolutely had no way home, short of paying a cab $75. She lives 40 minutes from work, and so do I, so it's a long trip, but I absolutely know she'd do it for me. It turns out Justin knew the way and wanted me to ride in his brand-spankin'-new car, so Justin was nice enough to do the driving. I was happy because I got to see my Cindy Lou Who at work and see Joan for a bit. Anyway, we talked so much in the car, and I had to keep up with the obligatory "yeahs" and "uh huhs" that I came home and lost my words completely. Normally, a good night's sleep brings them back, but I slept terribly due to a migraine and so they're still not back. I'm a little nervous. I'm going to church to help with the kids tonight, and I won't be able to talk much, if at all.
It's times like this that I wish I had a portable text-to-speech (TTS) program like Proloquo2go. Chloe and I have been checking out the iPod touch and Proloquo2go, and we really like it. Unfortunately, it's about $259 for the touch and another $189 for the TTS, so way out of my budget, even during Christmastime. The Autism Waiver covers assistive technology, but I don't know if I can convince them that I need it, as I am sometimes quite verbal (just only about limited topics and limited periods of time). Wish me luck, though, as it seems like my only option.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Real.
Sometimes, I think I give you all a really false impression of myself. I must seem to "together" when you can only know me via writing. I warn you that what you are about to read presents a very different side of me that you may not be used to, but it's no less real. This is the side that my family and close friends get to deal with.
You see, in the lag time between when an incident happens in the Real World and when it gets posted on Blog World, the bandaids have been stuck, the patches made, the mending done. I (mostly) wait until situations have a happy ending before I post about them. Not this time. This time, we're right in the middle.
So I start my tale....
There is a cat at work called Cindy Lou, who I have renamed Cindy Lou Who. She's almost completely black with the tips of her front paws flashing a bit of white. She is 11 years and 2 months old, and she is recovering from an upper respiratory infection from a few weeks back for which she is still on medication. She lost weight with the URI, and the medicine they give her for it diminishes her appetite, so she's not eating. She's very severely underweight, probably half what she should be, soaking wet.
She is absolutely the sweetest cat, though. For some reason, she has no voice. I don't think her vocal chords work, because she only silent meows, and it's just so darn cute. I find it incredibly endearing. She loves (loves!) to be held and cuddled and purrs and silent meows up a storm. Because she can't be adopted until she gains weight, she needs a foster mom to take her in for a while to fatten her up. Of course, the very day I move out, this will be where I come in. I passed it by Mom, letting her live in my room at my current house, but she knocked that down and I accepted it.
Until tonight, that is. Three of my fellow animal caregivers mentioned that Cindy Lou Who wasn't doing well and that they may put her down. This is just opinion, not anything anyone has heard from Medical or anything like that. J, who has been there for 18 years, said, "If she just gets a foster, they won't mind giving her more time, because she won't be taking up space in the shelter." I take my foster class on Sunday, but I still don't know when I move out. The last we heard they said sometime in July.
I was okay until the vending machine ate my 65 cents and refused to give me a Diet Coke. I started crying on the way to the car. I knew this wouldn't end well, so I called Leigh, who was on the other line with someone. I called her 3 times, hoping she'd sense the urgency and take my call. I tried my sister, who is often up at this time and would be happy to help me calm down. By this point, sans Diet Coke (a huge calming mechanism), no Leigh to be found, and Emily in bed, I lost it. I pulled over on the side of the road and and thought. And thought. And thought. I wasn't calming down. I decided to call home and wake my mom up.
Me: Bob, can I talk to Mom?
Bob: She's sleeping.
Me: (Uh, bawling...). It's kind of important. I can't calm down.
Insert rustling and mumbling.
Mom: What, Lydia?
Me: Mom, I'm really upset because they might put Cindy Lou Who down if no one can take her and I don't want her to die.
Mom: I'm sorry.
Me: But Mom, we could take her.
Mom: I'm not taking another cat, I told you that.
Me: But they'd pay for her food and her medicine; you wouldn't even know she's there. We can save her.
Mom: I'm sorry, I wish we could, but we can't take another cat right now
Me: Mom, she's going to die. We could save her. She's already like my cat. We can't let her die.
Mom: *sighs....*
Me: You're being mean. You could save her, and you won't. It's your fault.
Mom: Honey, lots of things are my fault, but this isn't. Don't blame things on me that aren't my fault.
Me: You're mean! It is your fault! I'm mad at you! Go back to bed.
Leigh called back not two minutes later. I explained the whole situation, and over the next hour, we talked and repeated and talked some more and repeated some more. I kept saying that I just needed to be mad for a while. She (for a while, unsuccessfully) tried to convince me that I was rightfully angry, but not at my mother, because it was no more my mom's fault than it was anyone else's who can't or won't take Cindy Lou. We discussed at length whether it was a good option to decide that I didn't care about cats anymore. I rocked outside on the... rocking chair, but it's not a rocking chair, it's a kind of couch that rocks, which squeaked and squaked incessantly. Leigh recommended that I go see Elsie, but my OCD thoughts of hurting her kept creeping up and I was afraid to. She said, "What if Elsie misses you right now?" I said, "She's just a cat. Cats don't miss."
I finally (after, like, an hour and a half of crying and talking) decided that I could go in and find Elsie if Leigh stayed on the phone with me to make sure nothing bad happened. I opened the door and Elsie was right inside it. She normally waits for me upstairs, but she was directly inside the basement door, meowing before I even got it open. My poor baby knew I was outside crying and couldn't get to me. I said, "Hop up so I can pet you, Els," and she did just that. I apologized for putting her through that, and feeling alright, got off the phone with Leigh.
I headed upstairs, and Elsie stayed right at my feet, never once tripping me up though. I did my change clothes/take meds/empty work things from purse routine. Then, I sat down at the dining room table to write apology notes to my parents. At this point, Elsie hopped up on the dining room table, a no-no, but she just had to be right next to me, and I couldn't tell her to get down. She knew it was a one-time thing, anyway.
Bob's note is fairly simple. I wrote that I'm sorry for waking him up, but that having exhausted all other options, I did the only thing I could think of: call Mom. I said that I do not enjoy waking people up and thought long and hard about it, and that I promised to try not to do it again in the future.
Mom's note is a list. Sorry for waking her up. Sorry for saying it's her fault, when in reality it is many people's fault and only a tiny fraction of that is hers. Sorry for asking again when she had already said no. A little bit sorry for letting Elsie on the dining room table. And then I wrote that sometimes I need her to listen to what I mean instead of what I say. I say, "I'm mad at you," but what I mean is, "I'm angry at this situation and I'm projecting it on you because you're the only concrete being I know at whom to be mad, even though I know you don't deserve it." When emotions get involved, sometimes what I say and what I mean get mixed up. I told her that if I'm being either repetitive or unreasonable, to please help me figure out what I mean instead of what I'm saying.
I left the notes out for them to find in the morning. I'm afraid Bob will still make a big deal out of the waking up part and make me apologize like a dog with my tail between my legs, 900 times, before he drops it, if he ever does. But I hope that being proactive and apologizing will help.
Elsie hasn't moved from the back of my neck, first purring, now sleeping, in over and hour. Did I mention that I love my service cat?
So, as you can see, your "mature" and "insightful" Lydia can only be such when she has had quite some time, and some help, to process things. In the moment, it can get pretty messy. I'm a little worried that you will like me less after reading how nasty I got, but hey... that's me, and sometimes I get nasty. Don't we all?
Gonna take my kitty and go to bed, now.
You see, in the lag time between when an incident happens in the Real World and when it gets posted on Blog World, the bandaids have been stuck, the patches made, the mending done. I (mostly) wait until situations have a happy ending before I post about them. Not this time. This time, we're right in the middle.
So I start my tale....
There is a cat at work called Cindy Lou, who I have renamed Cindy Lou Who. She's almost completely black with the tips of her front paws flashing a bit of white. She is 11 years and 2 months old, and she is recovering from an upper respiratory infection from a few weeks back for which she is still on medication. She lost weight with the URI, and the medicine they give her for it diminishes her appetite, so she's not eating. She's very severely underweight, probably half what she should be, soaking wet.
She is absolutely the sweetest cat, though. For some reason, she has no voice. I don't think her vocal chords work, because she only silent meows, and it's just so darn cute. I find it incredibly endearing. She loves (loves!) to be held and cuddled and purrs and silent meows up a storm. Because she can't be adopted until she gains weight, she needs a foster mom to take her in for a while to fatten her up. Of course, the very day I move out, this will be where I come in. I passed it by Mom, letting her live in my room at my current house, but she knocked that down and I accepted it.
Until tonight, that is. Three of my fellow animal caregivers mentioned that Cindy Lou Who wasn't doing well and that they may put her down. This is just opinion, not anything anyone has heard from Medical or anything like that. J, who has been there for 18 years, said, "If she just gets a foster, they won't mind giving her more time, because she won't be taking up space in the shelter." I take my foster class on Sunday, but I still don't know when I move out. The last we heard they said sometime in July.
I was okay until the vending machine ate my 65 cents and refused to give me a Diet Coke. I started crying on the way to the car. I knew this wouldn't end well, so I called Leigh, who was on the other line with someone. I called her 3 times, hoping she'd sense the urgency and take my call. I tried my sister, who is often up at this time and would be happy to help me calm down. By this point, sans Diet Coke (a huge calming mechanism), no Leigh to be found, and Emily in bed, I lost it. I pulled over on the side of the road and and thought. And thought. And thought. I wasn't calming down. I decided to call home and wake my mom up.
Me: Bob, can I talk to Mom?
Bob: She's sleeping.
Me: (Uh, bawling...). It's kind of important. I can't calm down.
Insert rustling and mumbling.
Mom: What, Lydia?
Me: Mom, I'm really upset because they might put Cindy Lou Who down if no one can take her and I don't want her to die.
Mom: I'm sorry.
Me: But Mom, we could take her.
Mom: I'm not taking another cat, I told you that.
Me: But they'd pay for her food and her medicine; you wouldn't even know she's there. We can save her.
Mom: I'm sorry, I wish we could, but we can't take another cat right now
Me: Mom, she's going to die. We could save her. She's already like my cat. We can't let her die.
Mom: *sighs....*
Me: You're being mean. You could save her, and you won't. It's your fault.
Mom: Honey, lots of things are my fault, but this isn't. Don't blame things on me that aren't my fault.
Me: You're mean! It is your fault! I'm mad at you! Go back to bed.
Leigh called back not two minutes later. I explained the whole situation, and over the next hour, we talked and repeated and talked some more and repeated some more. I kept saying that I just needed to be mad for a while. She (for a while, unsuccessfully) tried to convince me that I was rightfully angry, but not at my mother, because it was no more my mom's fault than it was anyone else's who can't or won't take Cindy Lou. We discussed at length whether it was a good option to decide that I didn't care about cats anymore. I rocked outside on the... rocking chair, but it's not a rocking chair, it's a kind of couch that rocks, which squeaked and squaked incessantly. Leigh recommended that I go see Elsie, but my OCD thoughts of hurting her kept creeping up and I was afraid to. She said, "What if Elsie misses you right now?" I said, "She's just a cat. Cats don't miss."
I finally (after, like, an hour and a half of crying and talking) decided that I could go in and find Elsie if Leigh stayed on the phone with me to make sure nothing bad happened. I opened the door and Elsie was right inside it. She normally waits for me upstairs, but she was directly inside the basement door, meowing before I even got it open. My poor baby knew I was outside crying and couldn't get to me. I said, "Hop up so I can pet you, Els," and she did just that. I apologized for putting her through that, and feeling alright, got off the phone with Leigh.
I headed upstairs, and Elsie stayed right at my feet, never once tripping me up though. I did my change clothes/take meds/empty work things from purse routine. Then, I sat down at the dining room table to write apology notes to my parents. At this point, Elsie hopped up on the dining room table, a no-no, but she just had to be right next to me, and I couldn't tell her to get down. She knew it was a one-time thing, anyway.
Bob's note is fairly simple. I wrote that I'm sorry for waking him up, but that having exhausted all other options, I did the only thing I could think of: call Mom. I said that I do not enjoy waking people up and thought long and hard about it, and that I promised to try not to do it again in the future.
Mom's note is a list. Sorry for waking her up. Sorry for saying it's her fault, when in reality it is many people's fault and only a tiny fraction of that is hers. Sorry for asking again when she had already said no. A little bit sorry for letting Elsie on the dining room table. And then I wrote that sometimes I need her to listen to what I mean instead of what I say. I say, "I'm mad at you," but what I mean is, "I'm angry at this situation and I'm projecting it on you because you're the only concrete being I know at whom to be mad, even though I know you don't deserve it." When emotions get involved, sometimes what I say and what I mean get mixed up. I told her that if I'm being either repetitive or unreasonable, to please help me figure out what I mean instead of what I'm saying.
I left the notes out for them to find in the morning. I'm afraid Bob will still make a big deal out of the waking up part and make me apologize like a dog with my tail between my legs, 900 times, before he drops it, if he ever does. But I hope that being proactive and apologizing will help.
Elsie hasn't moved from the back of my neck, first purring, now sleeping, in over and hour. Did I mention that I love my service cat?
So, as you can see, your "mature" and "insightful" Lydia can only be such when she has had quite some time, and some help, to process things. In the moment, it can get pretty messy. I'm a little worried that you will like me less after reading how nasty I got, but hey... that's me, and sometimes I get nasty. Don't we all?
Gonna take my kitty and go to bed, now.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Friends, Romans, Countrymen...
Lend me your ears?
You see, I have a dream of getting my book into the public library system here. I asked how to do that, and the lady said that I need to bring "feedback" from my book's website about it. In order to bring feedback to the library, I need my faithful readers to leave comments about my book on the Lulu site. Here's the link.
Please, please, if you read my book, leave a few sentences about how it helped you or why you liked it.
I'd really appreciate it.
Really.
Thanks :)
You see, I have a dream of getting my book into the public library system here. I asked how to do that, and the lady said that I need to bring "feedback" from my book's website about it. In order to bring feedback to the library, I need my faithful readers to leave comments about my book on the Lulu site. Here's the link.
Please, please, if you read my book, leave a few sentences about how it helped you or why you liked it.
I'd really appreciate it.
Really.
Thanks :)
Monday, July 5, 2010
Success!
One last vacation story for you, then it will be back to your regularly scheduled programming.
On Friday, while I was visiting Dad's side of the family, my sister and her husband took the train up from NYC to visit with the in-laws and my parents. They spent the day shopping and looking around at a nearby town. On Friday evening, I rode the train back to Manhattan with Emily and Matt. I spent the whole time playing Angry Birds on Matt's iPhone. Highly amusing.
Anyway, after a day of hunting down this doll in NYC (to no avail, though I had my heart set on it) and book shopping and kitty-seeing, I was exhausted and it was time to go back to the hotel with my parents. I thought my sister would take me to the station and get me on the train.
Well, not so. She said, "I moved to this city at 22 and had to navigate the entire thing by myself. We'll put you in the cab and give you directions, and you will find the train by yourself. If you get lost, you can ask an employee for help or call us and we'll help you."
I was terrified. Navigating is so not one of my strong suits. I even called my mom and said that Emily was just putting me in the cab. She said she thought I could do it myself and that she'd be waiting as soon as I got off the train.
Emily and Matt explained exactly how to find my train, what to do with my ticket, how to tip the cab driver, etc. They even offered to write it down. The explained and explained again. I was still terrified.
We walked to the street corner and Matt hailed a cab. "Take her right to the entrance of Grand Central Station."
After a fairly quick cab ride, I paid the cab driver his money ($7) plus his tip ($2) and made sure to get out of the cab onto the sidewalk and not into traffic. I asked, "Where is the station?" and the driver pointed it out. I got my bags and marched right in.
I immediately found the computer screen that Matt had talked about and found the blue line and the train that said Southeast. Track 112. I looked up and scanned the big central part of the station for something that led to track 112, and found tracks 107-120 labeled over a hallway. I followed the hallway. Then, I saw black and whites (a type of NY cookie), which are delicious, and I bought one to eat on the train. No, they're not gluten free and yes, I got sick and itchy from it, but it was delicious!
I looked up again and found tracks 111 and 112 and, following the hallway, found myself looking at a train that read Southeast, but its doors were shut. It was only 7:14 and my train didn't leave until 7:48. Holding my heavy bags, I stood directly in front of the door of that train until the doors opened at 7:30. I also got hungry (hadn't had any dinner) and enjoyed my black and white.
I watched out the window the whole way home and payed close attention to whcih stop it was the entire time. My stop was last. I got off the train and immediately saw my mom and Bob. They both hugged me and I said, "Too much love, too much love!" But really, I don't know when I was last so happy to see them!
On Friday, while I was visiting Dad's side of the family, my sister and her husband took the train up from NYC to visit with the in-laws and my parents. They spent the day shopping and looking around at a nearby town. On Friday evening, I rode the train back to Manhattan with Emily and Matt. I spent the whole time playing Angry Birds on Matt's iPhone. Highly amusing.
Anyway, after a day of hunting down this doll in NYC (to no avail, though I had my heart set on it) and book shopping and kitty-seeing, I was exhausted and it was time to go back to the hotel with my parents. I thought my sister would take me to the station and get me on the train.
Well, not so. She said, "I moved to this city at 22 and had to navigate the entire thing by myself. We'll put you in the cab and give you directions, and you will find the train by yourself. If you get lost, you can ask an employee for help or call us and we'll help you."
I was terrified. Navigating is so not one of my strong suits. I even called my mom and said that Emily was just putting me in the cab. She said she thought I could do it myself and that she'd be waiting as soon as I got off the train.
Emily and Matt explained exactly how to find my train, what to do with my ticket, how to tip the cab driver, etc. They even offered to write it down. The explained and explained again. I was still terrified.
We walked to the street corner and Matt hailed a cab. "Take her right to the entrance of Grand Central Station."
After a fairly quick cab ride, I paid the cab driver his money ($7) plus his tip ($2) and made sure to get out of the cab onto the sidewalk and not into traffic. I asked, "Where is the station?" and the driver pointed it out. I got my bags and marched right in.
I immediately found the computer screen that Matt had talked about and found the blue line and the train that said Southeast. Track 112. I looked up and scanned the big central part of the station for something that led to track 112, and found tracks 107-120 labeled over a hallway. I followed the hallway. Then, I saw black and whites (a type of NY cookie), which are delicious, and I bought one to eat on the train. No, they're not gluten free and yes, I got sick and itchy from it, but it was delicious!
I looked up again and found tracks 111 and 112 and, following the hallway, found myself looking at a train that read Southeast, but its doors were shut. It was only 7:14 and my train didn't leave until 7:48. Holding my heavy bags, I stood directly in front of the door of that train until the doors opened at 7:30. I also got hungry (hadn't had any dinner) and enjoyed my black and white.
I watched out the window the whole way home and payed close attention to whcih stop it was the entire time. My stop was last. I got off the train and immediately saw my mom and Bob. They both hugged me and I said, "Too much love, too much love!" But really, I don't know when I was last so happy to see them!
Friday, July 2, 2010
My people
You know the country song (I looked it up; it's by Rodney Atkins) that says ,"These are my people. This is where I come from...."? That song has been playing in my head all day.
Cousin R picked me up from the hotel at 10 am sharp. She greeted my mom and I with hugs and they chatted for a few minutes, catching up on which kid is where and doing what. We headed back to Robin's house in her big truck, dog Tony along for the ride. Their house is huge, very unique and cool, and sits on a little lake.
R and I chatted (ahem, I repeat: I chatted) for an hour until Aunt D appeared. She knew that there was a "surpise" at R's, but not that it was me. As I peered around the kitchen door, she faced the opposite way, so I grabbed her into a tight hug. I swear, for all of five minutes, all she could say was, "Oh my gosh!" R finally said, "Mom, do you know who this is?" She said, "Of course I do! It's Lydia! Oh my gosh!"
Over the next five hours, the two of them took me on a whirlwind family tour. First, it was off to see Cousin E (er, cousin's daughter, technically, but she's my age) who has spent the last year traveling Europe on her own. I haven't seen her in 13 years, but we used to play profusely as children. We caught her on her lunch break at work. I was thrilled to see her after so long, having nothing but great memories of our times together. We talked for a few minutes, and then she had to get back to work, but now that we're Facebook friends I'm sure we'll stay caught up with each other.
Aunt D took me from there and we went to their little cottage in the back of Cousin S's yard. Uncle F, who loves art, films, cartoons, and Shakespeare and is somewhat reminiscent of Mr. Magoo, minus the eyesight problem and plus some suspenders, came home from a little day trip. I swear the man hasn't visibly aged in 40 years and hasn't changed in the slightest. He's truly one of my favorite people in the world.
As Uncle F sat down to a lunch of liverwurst and crackers, Cousin S came home from the local cafe/bakery he owns with his wife, Aida. After 20 minutes, it was time for us to head down to the bakery to see their daughter (also my age, working in NYC as a fashion industry intern). Becky and I got close when I visited them five years ago for a week, and it was so good to see her. She greeted me with a huge hug and, "I miss you, I miss you, I miss you!" We fit an unreal number of words into the 25 minutes we had, and it was time for Aunt D and Uncle F to take me back to meet R and head back to the hotel.
There are so many details I could add, but I'd be here forever. It's the best day I've had since... well, definitely since Disney World with my mom last year. It's probably in the top 10 of good days in my life, to be honest. I had lost all hope that I would ever be truly comfortable with people besides my mom and Leigh. I felt so incredibly... normal. I fit right in, even with the same-age cousins I had gotten so nervous about seeing. These people sound like me, look like me, talk like me, even think like me. It's a feeling I need to have more often, and one that I plan on returning to this winter via bus.
It's family.
Cousin R picked me up from the hotel at 10 am sharp. She greeted my mom and I with hugs and they chatted for a few minutes, catching up on which kid is where and doing what. We headed back to Robin's house in her big truck, dog Tony along for the ride. Their house is huge, very unique and cool, and sits on a little lake.
R and I chatted (ahem, I repeat: I chatted) for an hour until Aunt D appeared. She knew that there was a "surpise" at R's, but not that it was me. As I peered around the kitchen door, she faced the opposite way, so I grabbed her into a tight hug. I swear, for all of five minutes, all she could say was, "Oh my gosh!" R finally said, "Mom, do you know who this is?" She said, "Of course I do! It's Lydia! Oh my gosh!"
Over the next five hours, the two of them took me on a whirlwind family tour. First, it was off to see Cousin E (er, cousin's daughter, technically, but she's my age) who has spent the last year traveling Europe on her own. I haven't seen her in 13 years, but we used to play profusely as children. We caught her on her lunch break at work. I was thrilled to see her after so long, having nothing but great memories of our times together. We talked for a few minutes, and then she had to get back to work, but now that we're Facebook friends I'm sure we'll stay caught up with each other.
Aunt D took me from there and we went to their little cottage in the back of Cousin S's yard. Uncle F, who loves art, films, cartoons, and Shakespeare and is somewhat reminiscent of Mr. Magoo, minus the eyesight problem and plus some suspenders, came home from a little day trip. I swear the man hasn't visibly aged in 40 years and hasn't changed in the slightest. He's truly one of my favorite people in the world.
As Uncle F sat down to a lunch of liverwurst and crackers, Cousin S came home from the local cafe/bakery he owns with his wife, Aida. After 20 minutes, it was time for us to head down to the bakery to see their daughter (also my age, working in NYC as a fashion industry intern). Becky and I got close when I visited them five years ago for a week, and it was so good to see her. She greeted me with a huge hug and, "I miss you, I miss you, I miss you!" We fit an unreal number of words into the 25 minutes we had, and it was time for Aunt D and Uncle F to take me back to meet R and head back to the hotel.
There are so many details I could add, but I'd be here forever. It's the best day I've had since... well, definitely since Disney World with my mom last year. It's probably in the top 10 of good days in my life, to be honest. I had lost all hope that I would ever be truly comfortable with people besides my mom and Leigh. I felt so incredibly... normal. I fit right in, even with the same-age cousins I had gotten so nervous about seeing. These people sound like me, look like me, talk like me, even think like me. It's a feeling I need to have more often, and one that I plan on returning to this winter via bus.
It's family.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Mom saves the day
(Read the previous post to catch up...)
Sitting on the front of stoop of the town home where my sister's in-laws live (that's who we're visiting in New York), I told my mom how nervous I was about tomorrow. I said that I knew I needed to tell R about my ASD, but that I was too shy to do it. I asked if it would be too weird for her to call and explain a little (this is, after all, her ex-husband's niece). Awkward though it was, Mom called and explained and R didn't care at all. Not that I thought she'd care, just that I feel better knowing that she knows.
Anyone who reads my book, could you do me a simple favor? Leave feedback about it on the Lulu site (here). I need feedback so that I can take the feedback to the library and get my book in there. Thanks :)
Sitting on the front of stoop of the town home where my sister's in-laws live (that's who we're visiting in New York), I told my mom how nervous I was about tomorrow. I said that I knew I needed to tell R about my ASD, but that I was too shy to do it. I asked if it would be too weird for her to call and explain a little (this is, after all, her ex-husband's niece). Awkward though it was, Mom called and explained and R didn't care at all. Not that I thought she'd care, just that I feel better knowing that she knows.
Anyone who reads my book, could you do me a simple favor? Leave feedback about it on the Lulu site (here). I need feedback so that I can take the feedback to the library and get my book in there. Thanks :)
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