Do you believe in Angels and/or Spirits?

How many of you have encountered spirits? Have you seen Angels? I have. The first time I believed in spirits was when my son was about 3 years old. He used to sit on his bed at bedtime and talk to what I thought was his imaginary friends. He would be in there having a grand old chat with whoever he was talking to. He wasn’t scared at all. He was always smiling and happy when he was talking to them.

One day, my ex-mother in law came over for a visit. We were in the living room and talking about different things. I had a shelving unit that I had all my family photos on. On one shelf, I had photos coming up each side on a diagonal slant and in the back in the middle of all them was a picture of my grandmother who I was extremely close to growing up. She passed away when I was 13 years old. My son pointed to her picture and said “Mommy, that’s who I talk to every night. That’s Lucie.” When I looked at the picture, I noticed something different. The picture was no longer in the back, but at the very front of the shelf, ahead of all the pictures. I had never touched the picture or moved it in any way. I looked at him in shock and asked him again what he said. He said “that’s Lucie. She sits and talks to me every night and sometimes she has her friend Al with her. They are really nice.” Now Al was my grandfather who passed away before I was born. I was in complete and utter shock. I had never told my son my grandmother’s name or showed him who she was. I had a sense of both sadness and a feeling of longing to see my grandmother again. Just to hear her voice. My ex-mother in law basically said “Nope….see ya later!” and left the house. Her hairs were standing up on her arm… freaked her out so much. That’s when I started to believe in spirits.

I know my grandmother is all around me….mostly at difficult times or stressful times. My grandmother was a heavy smoker…….and there is one part in my home where if you are near it or sitting by it, you will smell a strong presence of cigarette smoke. I am not the only one who smells it. It won’t last long, but I know she is there. It comforts me. My granddaughters as babies would look in that corner and smile and laugh. I knew they could see her and it made my heart smile.

I have an old dresser that was handed down to me from my great grandmother, to my grandmother, to my mother and then to me. I had the dresser for years with nothing every happening. But within the past 12 years (since 2008) funny things started happening. I had the dresser situated in my master bedroom so you could see the dresser from the living room where we were sitting. My dogs started to not want to go in the bedroom. They would stop where the door is and growl. They would see the dresser from the living room and growl and bark. They absolutely refused to go into the bedroom. This would freak my husband right out! He would say to me “Throw that dresser out!” but I never could throw it out. One night, we were at a bonfire of someone we knew when a woman came and sat next to me. She started making conversation and then said to me, “Do you mind if I ask you a question” I told her I did not mind at all. “Do you have an old dresser in your home that has been passed down to you?” I looked at her strangely and said that I did. She proceeded to describe the dresser to me to an exact match. I was still looking at her thinking, how does she possibly know this??? She then asked me “Do you mind if I say a cleansing prayer? There is something attached to it that is not friendly”. I asked her what it was and she just told me that I didn’t want to know that. I told her that I did want to know but she refused to tell me what it was. She said I would be better off not knowing. That drove me crazy because I wanted to know, but I could not force her to tell me. I told her to go ahead with her cleansing prayer and when she was done she said to me “Now your grandmother is very happy that it is gone”. That freaked me out a bit because I never told her my grandmother had the dresser so that made me very curious about how she could know this. We never had any instances since.

Do you believe in God?

I was brought up as a Catholic. I went to catechism….or Sunday School if you wish…..every Sunday. My father would be upstairs attending the church service while I was in the basement of the church being taught all about the Catholic religion by the nuns. I had my first communion, did my confessions, had my Confirmation and everything else that I needed to do. Once I left Sunday school, I started going to church with my father every Sunday. And I can tell you that as a young child around the age of 11 or 12, church was very boring…..and long! I stopped going to church when I was about 14 or 15. I just didn’t want to go. My social life was more important that going to church in my eyes. My father still went though. I would still go to church on Christmas Eve with a friend and her family. I loved going on Christmas Eve. To me, it was so peaceful.

Now do I believe in God? I honestly cannot tell you what I believe in. Growing up I was told that I had to believe in God. It was what we did back in the 70’s and 80’s. Do I believe one person created this world? Hmmm…..I don’t know about that. Do I believe God hears us through prayers? I guess. Do I believe he answers our prayers? Not really. I have prayed many many times and nothing has ever happened.  I have prayed for others to heal, my family and friends….and nothing.  Now do I believe in God because I have 2 great kids and 2 beautiful granddaughters and a husband who worships me?  If that is who helped me have that in life, then yes I believe in God.  I am very thankful and grateful to him for giving me that in life.

I have a friend that calls herself the “Daughter of the King”. She believes you should serve God and give your life to him. Now that to me is a little bit much. I have no problems with religion or anyone’s beliefs… fact, I find different religions quite interesting. However, please….and I cannot stress this enough……PLEASE do not force your beliefs on anyone else.

Neither of my children believe in God. And I am fine with that. My daughter claims there are no actual facts proving that he exists. My son believes in something entirely different. They were never brought up in the church like I was. My ex-husband was protestant and neither one of us went to church or considered ourselves religious. We never had either of our kids baptized. We decided to let our kids grow up and choose to believe what they want to believe, instead of having one religion forced upon them. Everyone should have the right to choose their own beliefs, whether we agree with it or not.

Now I haven’t gone to church in a very long time. I mean a VERY long time. Probably 25 years. Yes I have gone to churches for weddings, funerals, etc……but not for a church service. But honestly, lately I have been feeling the need to go there. Not because I necessarily believe, because I am still trying to figure that out…..but because when I walk in a church, I feel at peace. I feel at peace with myself. I feel a calmness wash over me. Like all my stress at that moment is taken away. I can forget everything that is going on at that very moment and just breathe. With everything going on in this world this day and age, everyone can use a little peace in their life.

Most days I have a hard time believing that there is a God. If there is a God, why would he take my mother away from me when I was only 4 years old? Why would he allow people to suffer with cancer and other terminal illnesses? Children to suffer with sickness, poverty, starvation? Why does he allow flooding, devastating forest fires, hurricanes, tornadoes….and the list goes on? I have a hard time believing that someone would allow all that suffering.

I had another friend say to me one time that right now we are living in Hell. And when we die, we go to Heaven. That makes a bit of sense to me. Some days it does feel like Hell on earth.

There is a country song and part of the lyrics goes like this: “If I ever get to Heaven
You know I got a long list of questions
Like how do You make a snowflake?
Are You angry when the Earth quakes?
How does the sky change in a minute?
How do You keep this big rock spinnin’?
And why can’t You stop a car from crashin’?
Forgive me, I’m just askin'”

That last part always resonates with me, because my mother was killed in a car crash. I know that is one question I would ask God if I ever met him.

My Struggle with Thinning Hair

**I was not paid to write this review in any way. This is just my own personal experience. Results may very with every individual**

I have had thinning hair for awhile now. 5 years maybe….give or take a year. Since my recent hysterectomy surgery….menopause has wreaked havoc on my body….especially my hair. The top of my hair has become so thin, you can literally see through my hair….right to my scalp. It’s very embarrassing for me. It makes me very self conscious. My family has thinning hair as well so I knew that it may affect me one day.

I have been colouring my hair since I was 18 years old….and I am now 49….so I know that doesn’t help at all. I used bleaching products and everything else to keep up with the current styles and looks. I tried everything possible to help give me bounce and volume to my hair. Some products only lasted temporarily. Some products I have recently found really help with volume when it comes to styling my hair.

Recently I discovered a product that has alot of positive reviews about helping people with thinning hair. That it may help to regrow hair.

It’s called Viviscal. It’s a pill that you take twice a day for 3 to 6 months. I did alot of research on this product vs Rogaine for women…..and Viviscal seems to have the higher ratings and approvals. Plus the thought of putting a mousse on my hair every day that has a strong medicinal smell did not appeal to me. Taking a pill is much more easier. I was still on the fence about trying it, but I was at the point of trying anything now. So I broke down and bought my first month supply. The pills are not very big…..about the same size as a Tylenol. I take mine in the morning and then at suppertime. It says to take with food so I take it with my meals. I have read that it makes some people’s hair greasy or makes their stomach upset…..but I have not experienced any of that. I have found that the Viviscal is a bit more pricey than the Rogaine….about $60 a month.

So far I am very impressed with Viviscal. My hair has more body and volume. It even feels thicker when I put it in a ponytail. I am noticing less hairs in my brush and in the sink after washing my hair. I have less hairs falling out during the day. I have only been on it for 13 days so far, but so far so good. I am very excited to see how much more my hair will grow and if I will get any new growth. I will update this post at a later date with newer results.

The differences are very slight with the above photos but I am very pleased with the results so far.

Not all adoptions end up with happy endings

The majority of people who are adopted do not know their biological family. I am one of the exceptions. I always knew I was adopted and I also always knew my biological family. I stayed in touch with some of them…..some of them I didn’t. Not by my choice though…..the choice to not stay in contact was all on them.

I lost my mother when I was only 4 years old. She had passed away from a car accident, along with 4 other ladies that were in the car with her. My father was not in the picture because my mother had left him when I was around 1 year old. So at 4 years old I had no parents. My mother was the baby of the family and my grandmother was absolutely devastated. She had already lost her husband and other children….and now her baby. I cannot imagine what she was going through. But my grandmother was the strongest person that I have ever known. For everything she had gone through in her life, she managed to still be one of the kindest, sweetest people on the planet. Everyone who ever met her, instantly fell in love with her. She would light up a room with her smile. She is someone who I loved deeply.

My grandmother did not want me to move to another city far away with one of my aunt’s because then she would not get to see me as much. I ended up staying close by in the end. I stayed with an aunt that was no more than 20 minutes away……much better than a flight away. I lived with this aunt for about a year or so, but when her marriage started to fall apart, I went to live with the people who were my babysitters during the day. Oh how I wished that I have never gone to live there. I was mentally abused there every day of my life. That woman who I would eventually call my “adoptive mother” was a cruel, heartless and evil woman.

Growing up in that house was not fun. Oh it was fun for everyone else, but not me. Her own 2 biological children got everything. Especially her baby. Her oldest son was not her husband’s child, but he raised him like his own anyways. I was always compared to them. In her eyes, I was just never good enough. She never loved me……never once ever told me that she loved me. In fact, I don’t think she even loved herself…..let alone like herself. She never hugged me….not once in her life. I never felt like part of the family. Anytime we went out to the shopping mall or to get groceries, and she would see someone she knew, she would introduce me as her “adopted” daughter….never just her “daughter”.

When my biological mother had died, she had left me a trust fund….so that when I turned 18 years old, it went in my name. Until then, it would go in the name of whoever was raising me. Once my adoptive mother found this out, she did absolutely everything in her power to make sure she would be the caregiver. She was given a monthly amount to raise me…..which none of my biological family members who wanted to adopt me wanted any of the money. They wanted it to stay locked away until I turned 18. My adoptive mother used my trust fund like her own personal shopping bank account. She had more clothes than anyone….more jewelery, cars, more everything. BUT I was never allowed to participate in any extra curricular activities. All my friends were either in girl guides, skating, dance, etc. I was never allowed to do any of that. When my aunts and uncles would send me cards for Christmas, birthdays, etc….they always sent money in the card. My adoptive mother would give me the card which she had already opened. At that time, I had no idea they were sending me money, because my adoptive mother was taking it from the cards before giving them to me. What kind of person does that??? I will tell you what kind…..a cruel, heartless, evil person. That is what she was.

My adoptive mother kept me away from all my biological family once my grandmother died. Before then, I was pretty much allowed to see anyone because my grandmother ruled all 🙂 No one wanted to hurt my grandmother because everyone loved her. But once she passed, all ties were cut off to me. One aunt in particular never gave up trying to see me though. The aunt I had gone to live with at first when my real mom passed away. She fought like hell to see me whenever she could, but eventually my adoptive mother was more stubborn and mean. My aunt stepped back and said to herself “when she’s old enough, she will find me”. And I did. At 15 years of age. I went to her business she owned and snuck around the first little bit to see her. I did get caught by the evil woman and faced the consequences but that didn’t stop me. I still snuck off to see her whenever I could. Pretty much 95% of the rest of my biological family though, basically acted like I didn’t exist anymore. Never tried to see me, never tried to locate me, never sent me any cards or presents……NOT ONE.

My biological father had found me when was around 22 years old. A private investigator had come to my door asking me if I was the daughter of so and so, and had asked me if previous addresses were mine, etc. Then he told me that my father was looking for me. Imagine the thoughts running through my mind! My mother had left my father when I was just a baby because he was an alcoholic. And he was a mean drunk. He would beat my mother but the day she left is when he threw her down the stairs with me behind her. And it’s funny but I actually had a dream about that but didn’t think it was real. Until I asked someone about it and they said it was true. So it wasn’t a dream…..but a memory.

I never did end up meeting my father in person. He always wanted to but I always cancelled on him at the last minute. Maybe because the first question he asked me after he found me is “Did you get the trust fund your mother left you? How much was there?” See, being an alcoholic and a gambler, he was always looking for money. You see, he was not allowed to see me when I was a child. His parental rights were taken away because of the abuse and the alcoholism. He did try to see me a few times but I was never at the house when he would come. I do remember seeing a man at the door one time at my house. I was across the street playing barbies with a friend in her front yard…..and usually I would go over to see who anyone was who was visiting. But this time I didn’t. But the cops were called and he was escorted back to the airport to get back on a plane and go back to Vancouver.

While talking on the phone to my father, he told me that I had a half sister living in the USA. All of this was becoming too much for me to take in all at once. I tend to get overwhelmed very easily as I grow older. I guess over time….it has hit me that all of the family I had out there…..and no one bothered to look for me. I go on and find relatives and they say to me “OMG I’m so glad you found us!” That to me is so very hard to understand. How come in 49 years did you not try to find me?? I never felt home anywhere I was…..I never felt part of a family who truly loved me.

I joined and a few other sites so that I could find out a bit of my history…..more on my father’s side. All I knew was that his family was from the Ukraine. I wanted to know where I came from. I wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere. I wanted to know my history. That’s how I found some cousins and an aunt that were on my father’s side. I messaged them. I desperately wanted to find family. They were so excited to talk to me. “We are so excited that you found us!! My mom would love for you to call her”. I said I would… has been a couple of weeks now and I still haven’t called them. I don’t know why I ended up being aprehensive about talking to them. Maybe a part of me is scared that if I get close to them, they will leave again. They won’t want to have anything to do with me again. They won’t try to stay in touch with me again. Part of me is a bit angry that they never tried to stay in contact. Even on my mother’s side, barely any of them stayed in contact with me. For a young child, that is hard to understand why it was always ME trying to stay in touch with everyone……and even then, they never tried to stay in touch…..just forgot about me.

When I found out I had a half-sister I was excited. Also a bit nervous. She lived in the US so it was a bit away to meet. We had always planned to meet. But something always seemed to come up. When I got married to my second husband, I had invited her and she had planned on coming, but last minute she said she had some family issues she had to deal with and could not come. We had always kept in touch over Facebook but we lost touch for awhile. She was a bit of a wild card….always moving and changing her phone numbers. When I got word that our father had passed, I ended up tracking her down to let her know what happened. She knew more about our father’s family than I did. That was a bit upsetting…..that they had kept in contact with her but not me. Our father and her mother were not together anymore and had not been together for a very long time. So why was she more important than me? Is that selfish to think? She had photos that she said she would send me…..she never did. She went to our father’s funeral…..I did not. I was a single mother of 2 small kids and in a bad relationship with an abusive man. I couldn’t afford to go. My sister made me feel terrible about me not going. What kind of daughter was I anyways? Well excuse me!! What kind of father was he to me?? What kind of family were any of them to me?? We didn’t speak for awhile after that.

A few years later my sister passed away. She passed away the same way our father did…..a brain aneurysm. I found out on Facebook through a post by her son. That is how I was notified about her death. My father’s death was a bit different.

On a Friday, snowy evening on March 5th, 2004, my kids had just left to go with their father for the weekend. About 20 minutes after they left, someone was knocking at my door. I thought it was the kids forgetting something which was a common thing to happen. I always locked my door when I was home alone. I went to the door and saw a police officer standing there. My first thought was “Oh my god….something happened to my kids!!!” My heart sank when the police officer asked me my name. I asked him if everything was ok…..I said “Is it my kids? Are they ok?” He said yes….but something had happened to my father. See…..I usually always got phone calls from either my father, drunk at 3am in the morning or from the police saying they found my father in a ditch somewhere…..drunk……and asking me what I wanted to do. Well I was far away from him so I have no idea why they were all calling me. Maybe his family was getting sick and tired of getting all the phone calls?? Who knew really. So anyways, the officer had told me to call a hospital in Vancouver in regards to my father. I called the hospital and spoke with the doctor in care of my father. For some reason, he had me as his emergency contact…..even though we had never met. The doctor had told me that my father was found unconscious and ended up having a brain aneurysm. The doctor asked me if I could come to my father’s side. I said I could not. A plane ticket there was about $1200 and I was a single mother with 2 kids. The doctor then called one of my father’s brothers who then took over I guess. My father passed away through the night. And I never met him. Do I regret that? There are some days I do, and some days I do not.


They say when you see a dragonfly, it means someone you love in heaven is near. Others say that a dragonfly symbolizes change, transformation, adaptability and self-realisation. Dragonflies remind us that anything is possible. I like to think that they represent both. In the summer of 2018, I seen an abundance of dragonflies. I had not seen a dragonfly in years, but that summer I seen them everywhere I went. When I told people that I was seeing alot of them, they would say to me “Oh me too!” That saddened me a bit because I liked to believe that the ones I was seeing were just for me…..that they meant something special. There was one particular time that I was seeing one dragonfly in particular. He was brown with huge black eyes……absolutely beautiful. See, I was having a hard time healthwise and was sick alot. I believed this dragonfly was sent to me for a reason. I had gone shopping at the local mall one afternoon. When I came out of one of the entrance doors to go back to my car, there was a dragonfly waiting for me. This big, brown dragonfly. It followed me all the way back to my car, hovered over the top of my car, turned and looked at me. I stopped and looked at it. It just hovered there starting at me. I was absolutely mezmorized by it. I stayed there for about 30 to 40 seconds looking at this magnificent creature. I then got in my car and started to drive back to work. The dragonfly followed me. It followed me quite a ways. I was a bit shocked that this was happening. But I continued back to work and temporarily forgot about it. Later on after I was done work, I walked out to my car and what did I see?? The brown dragonfly by my car. I then had a warm feeling inside. I felt comforted at this time…..I felt at peace…..I felt that this was a message from my mother in heaven that I was going to be ok.

Whether you think I am crazy or not…’s what I needed to believe to get through the rest of the next few months with my health. I needed to believe everything was going to be ok. I needed to believe that whatever life was going to throw at me, I was going to make it through with the love and support of my family.

After that summer with the dragonfly, I went and had a dragonfly tattoo put on the inside of my wrist to represent my mother in heaven. Every time I look at it, I think of her…..and the summer of the dragonflies.

Are home made marshmallows worth it?

I am going to be honest…..I didn’t know home made marshmallows were a thing! I had heard through a friend who had been making them for awhile and I had no idea! But who doesn’t love marshmallows in their hot chocolate??!! So I thought I would check it out. I went online and looked at a few different sites that had recipies for home made marshmallows. Some seemed so complictated to make with so many ingredients and so many steps to make them. I was not into complicated. I wanted something that was easy, fast and still tasted good. I tried a few online that seemed simple enough….one had corn syrup. One in particular involved adding a bit of Bailey’s…..and I do love Bailey’s 🙂 I followed all the steps just like it said….mixed it for the amount of time it suggested…….and after it set for 6 hours I wasn’t sure if it tasted the way it should. I wasn’t sure if the texture was the way it should be. I thought that since it was a homemade version, that maybe it was a bit different than the store bought ones. Since I had never tried a homemade marshmallow before, I had no reference. So, I cut it up, and tried a piece. To me, it tasted pretty good….except it was a bit more chewy than I thought it would be. I bagged it up and left it on the kitchen counter. When I came home the next day, my son had asked me where I bought the Turkish Delight. I asked him “what?” He asked me again where I bought the Turkish Delight. I asked him what he was talking about. He showed me the bag of marshmallows. I laughed so hard I snorted a bit! That’s when I knew that the marshmallows had not turned out the way they should have. I went back online and checked out a few more sites that said they had quick and easy recipes. I decided to try a recipe that did not include corn syrup. I followed all the instructions to a T. I found a simple recipe that involved just plain gelatin, sugar and water, corn starch and icing sugar…..and then add a bit of any flavour you like. I put it in the pan and let it sit the 4 to 6 hours it recommended. After about 6 hours I took it out of the pan, cut it up and tested it out. Well it turned out FANTASTIC!!! It was soft and light….just like a store bought marshmallow, but tasted soooooo much better. I made 2 different batches… just plain vanilla and the one Bailey’s flavor. So delicious and so definately worth making it from scratch! So are home made marshmallows worth it? ABSOLUTELY!! Do try it yourself… won’t be disappointed 🙂

Here is the recipe I found. If I can make it, anyone can 🙂

Sift together 1/2 cup powdered sugar and 1/4 cup cornstarch in a bowl and put aside. Grease a 9″x 9″ pan. Sprinkle some of the cornstarch/powdered sugar mixture on the bottom. Set aside.

Take a small bowl and add 2 tbsp of non flavored gelatin and then add 1/2 cup of hot water. Stir until gelatin is dissolved. Have a medium size pot and add 1 cup of sugar and 1/2 cup of water. Bring to a boil and reduce heat to medium temperature. Heat to a thicker consistency. Add your gelatin mixture until the gelatin is dissolved. Add this mixture to your electric mixer and beat on medium speed for approximately 12-17 minutes. Beat it until it is starting to thicken up a bit. You can then mix in any flavor you wish. If you want just plain vanilla marshmallows, add 1 tbsp of vanilla. Pour in your greased pan and sprinkle the remaining mixture of cornstarch/powdered sugar. Set in fridge for about 4 to 6 hours. Once it is ready, remove from pan and cut in pieces. The easiest way I find to cut them is with a pizza cutter 🙂 Enjoy!

My Hysterectomy Journey

I have always had very painful “Aunt Flo’s” since I can remember.  It was only until within the past few years I really started having major issues with my time of the month.  The pain was unbearable, the mood swings were embarrassing… much so I could hear myself being such a bitch to everyone…..and thinking “why are you so mean??” But it was something that I just couldn’t control…..SERIOUSLY!!  I heard myself, but just couldn’t stop it…….THEN I would go in another room like the bathroom or somewhere and cry.  Cry so hard because I do not treat people so mean.  My heart would break each and every month.  I would think to myself… God!  My husband is certainly going to get fed up with this and leave me!  He must think I am a complete psycho!!

My iron levels were so low that my doctor didn’t know how I functioned on a daily basis.  She was always sending me to get my blood checked.  She had sent me to every specialist imaginable……and I had every test done……but nothing could be found as to why my iron levels were so low.  It was a constant struggle to get up and get through my day every day.  It took everything I had to get through just a morning shift at work.  If I felt like I was starting to get sleepy or fall asleep at work, I would just get up and take a walk around the office.  It had become such a routine that I almost got used to being so tired.

Many years down the road, I was still having issues with low iron.  I think my doctor had pretty much given up on trying to figure out what was wrong.  I felt like she was almost blaming me for having this issue.  She had stopped sending me for blood work for awhile, so I just learned to live with the sleeplessness.  Dragged myself on a daily basis to function….lots of coffee….and tea.  In my late 40’s I was pretty much getting pretty sick of feeling this way.  I made an appointment with my doctor, but she was on sabbatical, so I met with the doctor that was replacing her while she was on leave.  WELL…..what a difference a fresh pair of eyes makes! She sent me for blood work and right away was concerned.  I had explained to her about what was happening and that I have been dealing with this for most of my life.  |She couldn’t understand why my doctor had never done anything about it.  I was sent for a blood transfusion almost immediately…..and felt so much better afterwards.  But it was short lived.  Within 2 weeks my iron levels were back down to what the doctor says was pretty much “non-existent”.  She referred me to a specialist who ran a bunch of tests such as blood work, ultrasounds, etc.  The results came back as needing a hysterectomy basically NOW!  But before that, I needed a few blood transfusions first to bring my levels up high enough to survive surgery.  My oxygen levels were too low yet for surgery.  The specialist had told me she was scared that I may have uterine cancer.  She gave me a couple of options:  1 – have both ovaries removed, which would put me into instant menopause……2 – leave one ovary in but if it does come back as cancer, I would have to have another surgery to remove the remaining ovary.  She told me to decide on surgery day as to what I wanted to do.

Cancer. What a horrible and terrifying word.  One word can cripple you like no other word can.  I cried and cried when I heard the “C” word….I was all by myself at the specialist’s office and it took about 10 minutes for what the doctor had said to me.  And she sat there……looking at me….waiting for me to respond.  She looked confused for a bit, as if she were thinking “Why is this woman not crying or angry?”  Once the words that she had spoken to me hit me……the tears started flowing…..and the doctor’s face was like “There we go….this is what I was waiting for”.  I went out to my car and cried. I must have stayed there for a half hour and just cried.  I didn’t go back to work that afternoon.  I went home and cuddled up in my husband’s big lazy boy chair in the living room, surrounded by my dogs… me comfort…..licking my tears away.  The thought of having surgery scared me.  The thought of possibly having Cancer terrified me.  When they say your life flashes right in front of your face… truly does.  I thought about my kids, my husband… grandbabies.  I was not ready to leave any of them yet.

I had found out about needing a hysterectomy on December 20th.  I received a call and was told my surgery was scheduled for January 23rd. I had to go for more blood work a week before and my levels were too low for surgery, so I had to be admitted into the hospital the night before my surgery to have a blood transfusion.  I remember feeling that I was feeling so crappy, head pounding, light headed, winded breathing and just plain tired out.  Well no wonder.  My blood count was so low that I needed 3 bags of blood instead of just the one in order for me to have the surgery…..otherwise my doctor said, I would not survive the surgery.  I had a nurse with me at all times during my transfusions which basically took all night long.  I kept slipping in and out of sleepiness and every time I woke up, my nurse was there.  She was so sweet…..all the nurses I had were awesome….so nice and caring and comforting.

The morning of my surgery came.  My husband and daughter showed up to be with me.  My son came later on so I didn’t see him before my surgery.  I was a nervous wreck, but I tried as hard as I could to not show it.  I didn’t want any negativity or anything heavy weighing on me or anyone else before going under the knife.  I remember my doctor coming over to me and asking me if I made up my mind whether or not I wanted both ovaries removed or just the one……..and I told her to just take everything….get it over and done with.  I didn’t want to chance another surgery.  It was time for the orderly to come and take me to the operating room.  I said my good-byes to my husband and daughter and was wheeled away.  “To theater #1” the orderly said……I said that it was not exactly the type of theater I was excited to go to….lol.  He stopped outside the operating room doors and asked me to get up and walk in.  I got up……pushed open the door…..and walked in.  There were doctors and nurses….to me it felt like 15 people, although there were probably alot less than that.  It was so bright and white…..and cold.  I instantly became overwhelmed with everything that the tears just started flowing down my face. One of the nurses said to me “it’s a bit overwhelming isn’t it?”  Just writing this makes me tear up…..and it is almost 10 months after my surgery.  It was a very traumatic thing for me to go through……and I don’t think anyone fully understands this.

I woke up from my surgery and felt absolutely horrible!  I could see my husband, my daughter and my son all there in the room with me.  They had moved my room and I was so confused as to where I was……I could not understand why they switched me…lol.  I was not awake for long though….I dozed off again pretty quickly.  I remember feeling so puffy and swollen.  All the medications and such that they give you does not a happy feeling make!  I had to stay 1 day in the hospital just to make sure I didn’t run a fever or have any sort of reaction.  They make you get up shortly after surgery to walk…..WALK!  I could barely lift my hands or my head and they want me to walk.  So, I managed to sit up on the side of the bed and warn them that I was feeling dizzy and lightheaded and that I needed help going to the bathroom.  They had someone help me but I told them that I felt like I was going to throw up.  They didn’t believe me…..WELL I showed them! Yes, that’s right.  I threw up all over the place.  Nurses… time a patient tells you that they feel nauseated and think they may vomit….believe them!!

It was time for me to go home.  I still felt like crap.  BUT, I was recovering from major surgery.  I was going to be off work for 7 weeks.  To me that is huge!  I cannot stay home that long…..I will go stir crazy!  I will admit the first couple of weeks were tough.  All I did was sleep basically and just moved slow.  I did do the odd sweeping of the floors or the odd bit of laundry, which I was NOT supposed to do….but I was going nuts!  My husband had gone back to school and was busy with schoolwork and taking care of the house, me, the dogs, etc.  I felt like I had to contribute a bit.  But when I did sweep the floors, I ended up in bed for 2 days due to complete exhaustion.  Surgery is a bitch!

It has been almost 11 months now and I am not the same person.  I have anxiety which is something I am not liking one bit.  The smallest things can trigger it.  Meeting new people stresses me out, which I used to love to meet new people.  Going out of the house stresses me out.  I have started to do things to force myself to leave the house, to meet new people.  Some days are better than others.  Some are completely overwhelming to me.  This is not me.  This is not the person I want to be. This surgery has changed me in ways that I cannot explain….because I don’t understand it myself.  I want to get back to the outgoing, fun, friendly person I once was.  I am hoping to get there one day.  Just taking it one step at a time.

Welcome to my life :)

I am a mother, wife and grandmother. I have a very crazy, hectic life just like everyone else. My life is no more important that anyone elses out there but I have decided to write down my thoughts, my experiences, my feelings for everyone to see so that if someone out there has gone through the same things as me……they can realize that they are not the only ones……like I thought of myself forever. Some posts you may find boring and uninteresting…..some you may find amusing….or not. But this helps me getting out my frustrations and dealing with life in general. And if I make someone out there smile….than I have accomplished my mission.