I have hesitated to post anything since Halloween. I had mentioned that a family member was in the hospital at that time. It’s my youngest brother and the prognosis is not good. Apparently he is in late stage Liver failure and it’s more than likely due to his lifestyle when he was younger. I know he does drink regularly but many people do and don’t have this happen to them.
He has been a heavy drinker most of his adult life especially when he was in the lead singer in a Heavy Metal Band many years ago with a lifestyle that went with it. They played in many of the rock and roll clubs in Detroit and the suburbs.
I was originally told that my brother was injured when he lifted something heavy and tore his esophagus. This happened due to the thinning and weakening of the membranes making bleeding a huge danger. He must have already been quite ill for some time but never said anything, as many of us don’t until it’s too late. I have heard of cirrhosis of the liver before but never knew that it actually can make your body sort of deteriorate where you have bleeding all through your body, sometimes severe enough to cause death. I have been reading up on this condition to find out as much as I can.
He had emergency surgery on November 1st for esophageal bleeding, was in the hospital approximately one week recuperating and having more tests, was released and collapsed a few days later at home in a much worse condition with more widespread bleeding. He was in a coma for approximately 11 or 12 days and started waking up a few days ago. He has been in ICU because it does not look good, he could pass at any time. He was just taken off the ventilator a few days ago when I was there on Thanksgiving and it broke my heart to see my brother with tubes all over his body knowing any time might be the last time and having him plead with me to bring him back home.
He has no energy and kept saying “help me” and “take me home with you” in the tiniest whisper changing from lucid one minute to not making any sense the next. The nurse told me this was common due to high blood ammonia from the liver. When I had to leave due to the 2 hour drive back home before dark, he kept saying “don’t go.” Until a pretty nurse came into the room, then I could leave.
One of my daughter-in-laws was able to feed him a tiny amount of thickened liquid yesterday as well. He has a feeding tube and is not supposed to have much by mouth right now, anything can cause this bleeding again but since they can’t just have him stay this way in ICU, they are trying to see if he can tolerate stuff so they can eventually get him out of there and he can actually come back home.
One of the nurses said if he can get through this crisis and follow Doctors orders there might be a possibility to get on a transplant list if he gets stronger. If I qualify I would not hesitate to donate part of my liver. My liver tests looked good a couple months ago. I have hardly ever drank, smoked or took drugs my entire life so I am hoping that it’s a possibility though age is also a qualifying factor. I forget the older you get the less valuable your life becomes in our society.
Was going to write a pleasant, congenial blog post about trees so I didn’t have to be real about what I have been feeling as of late. I have decided to go another route completely and make this “branch” prompt about branches on my family tree. The heck with trees, I just want to talk some truth today. I’m actually allowing my brain to “regurgitate” all kinds of krap that I hold inside of myself. I think getting my DNA tests back and researching various family is causing me to feel things that I usually choose to push way back as I live my life on automatic. I was in such a bad mood yesterday after a distant relative “innocently” made a very thoughtless and incorrect comment about my life to me and I flew off the handle. My mood has not improved as I have had time to reflect on many things.
Some of you might have read some things I posted about a year ago when I was finding out more things about my family that I had not known or was not sure about. That is when I received a few things from a family member regarding news coverage of the vicious crimes my father was involved in before I was born and that he was only captured when the police shot out their stolen car and stopped he and his “gang.”
My parents marriage was a freak show that lasted 19 years with many hiccups along the way. They were separated many times for various reasons such as other women or incarcerations. There was that one time that my father was actually one of the Detroit 59er’s but that was a complete “bust” as well. A person with a positive brain would concentrate on this story, but that’s not what I’m going to do since my father decided to get drunk and give up as usual. He has so many opportunities I could only dream of and threw them all away for whatever reason.
My mother had a chance to divorce him when she was incarcerated while pregnant with me as a possible accessory to his criminal actions and a few times after that but she wouldn’t let go. It wasn’t until recently when I heard someone explain the psychological make up of those that choose to stay with narcissists did it make sense to me. They were a perfect fit. She hated herself and he agreed with her. He continued to commit various crimes in between infrequent employment, running around with other women, drinking and brain operations to help ease grand mal seizures caused by scar tissue received falling from a horse as a young teen.
Never heard any stories about my father because neither of his parents cared about him or their grandchildren. I never knew either one of them. I met his alcoholic father a few times but he never said a word to me the times we were down to their farm years ago. His mother took off because of his father’s drinking and refusal to hold a job and she never looked back. She didn’t want her son, because he cramped her style trying to find another man. I don’t really know what she was doing but she managed to move all over the country for a while until she came back to Detroit to fulfill her dream of marrying a wealthy man.
I saw her for a short time while we lived in an old farmhouse in the country nearby owned my her new hubby. He owned a number of businesses and homes in and around metro Detroit. My father was running one of the businesses until he began stealing from his own father in law because whatever he was being paid and living in a free house was not good enough for him. He was fired and we were kicked out, forcing him into yet another mediocre job to survive and moving into a very run down, rat infested home in Detroit.
My dad was nice looking and could be very fun and charming when he wanted to be. I will say as abusive as he was when he was drunk, I still preferred him over my mom. He taught me to play the guitar, banjo and the piano, loved animals and shared everything he had with me like his collection of records including John Lee Hooker and Johnny Cash and his only guitar. With my mother everything was “you don’t need this, no you can’t have it.” My father was never good with money and sometimes even at our poorest, he would say “hey kids, let’s go down for some ice cream.” My mother would say “they don’t need ice cream” because she knew we couldn’t afford it but my dad would say he knew we didn’t “need” it but he wanted to get it for us anyway.
My mother was an odd, inhibited, beaten down person that didn’t like to cook or clean house and completely ignored her family unless she was fighting with my father about something. She had to be suffering from depression but was never treated for it. She would vacillate between being lost in books and newspapers completely ignoring us to lashing out if you provoked her and we loved to provoke her just to get any kind of reaction. My brothers still talk about how we knew our mom was not paying attention to us so we would ask or tell her outrageous things to hear her pat answer of “that’s nice kids.” Stuff like “mom, Bryan just set the house on fire.” “That’s nice kids.” We would laugh! “Hey mom, Bob just stabbed Bryan.” “That’s nice kids.” Course we stopped laughing when he actually did it one day.
My mother was also a victim of a closed head injury when she was hit by a Trolly in Detroit as a teen, suffered a severe concussion as well as fractured skull. She was is a coma for quite some time according to my grandmother but fully recovered having to relearn some things which put her back a year with no memory of the incident. My mother’s intellect never appeared to be affected and she love to put the rest of us down or laugh at my dad because he was not very bright. Can’t imagine why he chose the company of other women to her and always spent as much time away from the house as possible.
As I write this out and edit so many things are becoming clear like why the chip on my shoulder is so large and why I have so much pain and emptiness inside of me. I never had the love that I needed so desperately. Many of us don’t. I was never invited, never felt welcome, was always considered a misfit or an outcast, just like the rest of my sad, loveless family. I never meant for this post to develop as a bitch fest about my parents but folks have to realize we are all victims of circumstance no matter what our station in life.
Years ago I finally told my mother that I never felt loved by her or anyone in my family. She was half-assed defensive about it but I told her our family was unGodly. The Word of God was NEVER spoken in our house and where there is no God there is no love. I truly believe that. I believe the only reason I survived this freak show somewhat intact was that I did get to live my first four years with my Christian Aunt and those years are the most formative even if you cannot remember everything that happened. My sister and I used to stay with her and my maternal Gram on weekends after that because it was too hard for my parents to take care of us all. I am not a well-adjusted person nor do I cope with things well because I feel every slight or disappointment that happens is just another reminder that I will never win in my life and I am right. It’s not a good feeling. When I was younger I could convince myself that things were going to get better. I was wrong.
I can pray all I want but I know the spiritual truth of this evil world because I’ve lived it. The more good I do, the worse things that happen in my life. God only knows why because sometimes good things do happen to good people but more often than not “no good deed goes unpunished.” That saying came about like Murphy’s Law, from real people living real lives and seeing certain things in action, not in wish-fulfillment. I believe in praying to God to thank Him for each day and for strength and mercy but I have given up on the dream that I will ever have things the way I think they should be in my life and in the world. I have seen such suffering and pain in others as well as myself that defies any logic of spiritual reciprocation. The great thing about that is that is does not discourage me because that’s not why I do things. God knows my heart that when I do it, I do it freely for Him, not for a favor from Him.
Those that have many trials have to decide to how they wish to respond to those trials. I just saw something the other day about the load some have to carry is not about the weight but how you choose to carry it that will break you. I know some alcoholics that bitch and moan and cry about the same thing all the time because for some reason they cannot mature enough inside themselves to understand that this is life and sometimes there’s not a damned thing you can do about it no matter how hard you try. Which means grow up and deal with it instead of feeling sorry for yourself. Develop a grateful heart, a heart for God. A heart for revenge if you must. Revenge against evil and that is in doing good. This type of thinking helps me cope with my reality.
Last of the excerpts from the Holy Bible, the Gospel of Luke. The Nativity of our Savior Christ Jesus which we celebrate by tradition on December 25th.
And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.
And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.
And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child.
And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.
But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.
And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.
This photograph reminds me of one of my favorite poems. It is something to think about anytime you get caught up in the mainstream guilt of never doing quite enough in your life or in this world. This poem really says it all in the grand scheme of things. I never realized this as I “accidentally” leaned my homemade trellis against my garage one day when storm clouds came into view, planning to finish it later. It had a very convenient overhang that kept all these little ones dry in the storm. I looked out to see them all sitting there and took this shot with my telephoto from my house. Unusual enough to make me dig out the camera for this shot and I felt happy for them that I did this. I ended up leaving it here for the summer.
And what a May Day it’s turning out to be. God only knows anymore what will occur on any given day in our twisted world of selfish Godlessness. The evil ones take a day and hijack it as another excuse to act childish and violent in the streets calling it a protest, when all they mean to do is act out in violence and hatred to anyone who is not on their side. I will never be on the side of evil. Evil has turned me from at one time being “liberal” to despising those with that title. The evil ones hijacked that term as well as hold it as a shield to trick some into thinking they are selfless and caring when they seem to only care about the rights of someone that takes everyone’s else’s rights away. They do not stand for justice, fairness or decency so they don’t stand for me.
Protesters pretend to care about various things but their actions prove very different. They are angry, immature and don’t care who they effect adversely by all the polluting and littering they leave not to mention the actual destruction and harm they cause to others or our earth. The devil comes to steal and destroy, not Godly people and I definitely judge a man by his actions. How you treat others, so shall your Father in Heaven treat you. The same goes for our earth. The way it’s treated, it will react in kind.
In front of my first Garden.
Vegetables partial shade
wildlife is precious
Some pests we need
Bees go, we go
Po’ Girl Gardens
I once won a litter bug contest sponsored by a local program in Detroit by naming the litter bugs when I was about 8 years old. I can’t remember the names but did win a board game of some sort. My father who was part Native American gave me a knife when I was young and told me how to use it and how not to use it to respect all the living things on this planet. My parents were not perfect, but had good values. They explained about how everything we see growing is alive, the importance of organic gardening and not using herbicides and pesticides as so many do because it’s easier. By now everyone should know better. In all my years of gardening as an adult I have never had it harder because I didn’t use chemicals. I did have to kill some pests by hand as well as do more weeding until more mulch was placed in some areas and I’ve mixed up a batch of spray to place on some plants to deter pests with garlic water and Fels soap.
Some of us have had to leave our homes in the past and go on to other adventures in our lives.
Sometimes it’s people we love or used to. Sometimes it’s the life we used to live.
Sometimes we are leaving actual “things” behind. Things we paid for but of no real value. The false importance we placed on the “thing” due to some great marketing campaign and the idea of keeping our economy viable. Truth is, the more things we leave behind, the more we can actually start living again. Many born past 1980 never got to live, they have been “consuming” since birth.