I’ve resigned from the grammar police squad

Well, maybe I was pink slipped.  I was a well established member of the grammar police too.  I loved all of the typical: Lets eat Grandma versus Lets eat, Grandma.  Great material there for sure.  I admit I still enjoy the jokes. Only much to my horror I’m starting to fall on the: Lets eat Grandma; side of the fence.

I figure if you are going to to read this blog I owe you the courtesy of an explanation in advance of what is going on.  I re-read and re-read these many times before posting. Oh! And I have two terrific excuses for this.  This is very convenient for me. One, I still recovering from a Traumatic Brain Injury.  Long story but the side of my head that I hit was the side responsible for language.  Two, I recently had a mini stroke and seriously I’m still recovering from it cognitively.  So not to worry I have my brain training apps on my tablet and I’m practicing.  Expect some improvement, however I still remain a former member of the Grammar Police Squad.   Perhaps I will enjoy my recent retirement. And I still enjoy a good joke.  So please continue to share those with me.


What I’ve learned about stereotypes

I’ve learned a lot about myself and medicine in general by being a medical consumer who is a frequenter flyer in hospitals and doctors offices.   There are a few things I won’t tolerate number one being condescension  A physician may be baffled by a rare illness or not have conclusive test results.  These things I understand and certainly don’t blame the doctors for my test results or not having a cure for a yet to be cured disease.  What I don’t understand is the rolling out the you must be faking or hysterical defense.  Then that seems to be license to speak down to me or make a snarky comment to me.  And the sad truth for me there is really medical problem in need of treatment.  Where does that leave me?

I tend to find, in my experience, this treatment is generally used by older, white, male physicians and I assume this happens to me more often because I’m a younger woman.  Not to say I say I believe this happens to women exclusively. But I get interrupted, talked over and left with unanswered questions. I just can’t imagine these physicians would dream of speaking this this way to someone they consider peer or other equal.

I recently had what is referred to as a mini stroke or T.I.A.  No question I had it.  But the neurologist I’m speaking of was expecting a major stroke when I came in.  I was there for 3 days at his request.  I told my fiancee how excited I was that he was treating me respectfully.  He also was clearly very quite educated in his field too.  Once it became clear this was likely not a major stroke he snarked as hit the doorway of my room on my last day there…or maybe it was you just imagined it. There it was the condescension.  I was floored and disappointed both at once.

It is a cluster of these experiences with this particular segment of the population that I choose my physicians carefully especially the older, white, male ones.  I have to remind myself there are dedicated and compassionate male doctors out there I need to consider. And I do have a couple.  I know there are many problems with our medical system that are much larger than this however this is the kind of treatment that given the right set of circumstances could lead to fatal consequences. I think since I am aware of it I have a working advantage, Im no longer scared off by these people.  I’m strong enough move forward.  I no longer take it personally and just go to another physician.  So now I make a scarf throw it around my neck and walk on.

What It is like to fail math

Even when you have your kid at 30 years old I think the term growing up with your kid still applies. At least it does to me. Short of the manual he doesn’t come with I’m growing up with him.  This year we have started middle school. And I say we because I have to relearn everything to know how to explain it to him.  If you have been there you know.  If not you may soon find out.

My son started middle school this year.  Here is the rub he is failing math.  Not for lack of trying.  He turns in his papers and has a tutor.  However, his grade is absolutely borderline in that class.  He is either just above or just below the failing mark week to week.  It has effected you self esteem.  He says he is a failure know matter how I build him up and tell him he is not. Or explain to him there is a huge difference between failing a class and being a failure.  Clearly something he isn’t ready to understand. Let me tell you I’m worried about him not passing math but I’m more worried about my son. I worry if he fails he will end up taking summer school.  And possibly failing it again. The having to repeat 6th grade.  While there is the larger possibility all of this won’t happen.  However, I seriously can’t rule it all out.  And how any one of those things will affect him.

While all that worrying about his grades is nerve wracking there is something far worse…my son’s inability to cope with this situation.  The meltdown situation is serious something that more concerning is him shutting down. So we have had to bring the counselor in. So I can help coax him out of these meltdowns.  This s completely heartbreaking.  He comes to me after trying hard homework and he is a broken child.  And I do what I can and enlist my fiancee to help in this matter.  I tell him I’m proud he keeps trying to conquer this math class. But he struggles to see past the moment. And this it what it is really like to fail math.

So we have approximately six weeks of school left and the clock is ticking on this grade. We have made a decision as a family to not sign up for summer camps at this time, because we will lose all of our deposits if it comes to summer school. However, I’m hoping for a passing grade. I hope to get him into camp at the last minute.  Most importantly I hope my child learns how to endure from this experience.  What I do know is we can get through this as a family.

Today is the beginning

I am a broken person. Many times without repair. I’ve been at the point of thinking I’m too shattered to be helped at this point. I was a very sad and painful thought to live with for so long.  I longed for the happy and healthy version of many from years past.  I told my shattered belief to someone I completely trust to help me the other day and he looked me straight in the eye and told he did not believe that to be true. And it has taken a while for it to sink in.  For the first time is almost a decade I believe maybe I can recover from these traumatic things I never thought or felt was possible. Surprisingly I am willing to walk through all the things I don’t want to face or even think about. But it will be baby steps because I know how bad I hurt.  But I want my life back more. Today I wasn’t afraid to pray or ask God for help.  I lost my faith in Him when my 33-year-old husband spent two years dying the most horrific death from cancer I have ever seen or could have ever imagined. At the time our 4-year-old son witnessed this too. I was outraged at this. I could feel the light in my soul dying everyday and it was excruciating.  I put on my game face and did everything my husband wanted or needed me to do and I was happy to be there for him in the most critical time in his life.  God had chosen me for this task.  It was hard, but I believe He wouldn’t have chosen just anyone for this wonderful man. I did everything in my power to help my son too I refused to fail him.  But I couldn’t help me.  I had nothing left for me. My husband is at peace in Heaven. My son is doing well these days.  He has the strongest Christian spirit I have ever witnessed in a child.  I believe he was born with it.  He is a happy and very unique child.  And I mean unique in the most amazing ways!  I firmly believe it.  I rarely tell others.  But the people who know him often come to this conclusion on their own. So now it is time for to find my way to health.  Today is the beginning!