The following is an excerpt from a book I'm working on...

The book is loosely based on my life and this is part of something I've been working on. Interested in hearing what you think of it....

 As a child, I have been told, I had a horrible way of registering pain and suffering. Whenever I got hurt or was disappointed or just plain didn't get my way, I would cry. Not just cry...I would let out one long wailing cry that lasted until every ounce of breath was out of my lungs. Then I would turn blue and pass out. Of course, this would scare my poor mother out of her wits. They tell me I would do this almost anywhere but the worst times were when I was in some precarious situation where my passing out would just cause me further injury and trauma. My mom told me that one time I was at the top of our hallway stairs. Again, we lived above my Dad's bar and those stairs were steep! I started crying over a paper cut, or small bruise, or hurt feelings at the top and launch into my long wail without breathing which then would make me pass out and launch myself head first down that creaky flight of stairs. All the while my mother was horrified, standing at the top, thinking for sure that this time I had, indeed, killed myself. Another time was at my oldest sister's wedding. I naturally don't remember this, this was all told to me by my parents, but apparently I bumped into something and started wailing and was launched down a hard set of stairs in front of everyone at the reception. I always knew how to make a dramatic entrance. My Dad said that “a cold compress and several Shirley Temples later, I was just fine”.

 It's funny how some memories are taken in as you live them but some are given to you by the people who were around at the time. I clearly don't recall my strange way of crying and passing out but everyone in my family does. There are other memories like this in my life. For instance, we have an old photograph of my standing on a dock up in northern Wisconsin at a cottage we used to go to every year. My sister Patsy is standing next to me. I'm holding an enormous stringer of fish as though I caught them. I'm about two at the time. Patsy is holding the fishing pole. It's more likely that she caught the fish herself but the only way you can even tell it's her is because she had boney legs and knocked knees when she was a kid. Her head is completely cut out the picture. I think that one picture kind of sums up my early relationship with my sister Patsy. She was the “baby” for seven years before I was born. Sure, I was a big surprise but once I was here I was lavished with loads of love and attention. Not just from my parents either. My other older siblings treated me like baby royalty and, unfortunately, that was the end of Patsy's reign. She spent most of my formative years thinking of ways to ditch me in the neighborhood or stuff me behind a bed without getting caught. Hey, I don't blame her! If I was her and I came along, I'd hate me too! My mother didn't help the situation much. She would insist that Patsy take me everywhere with her. Whenever she went outside to play, mom would insist she strap me into the stroller and take me along. Now remember, Patsy is only seven years older than me. I was about two when this was happening so my mom was entrusting my safety and well-being to a nine year old. A nine year old who hated me! Patsy would stroll me over to the Fox's house. The Fox family – George, Bernice and their kids – lived a couple of houses away. Patsy would leave me sitting in their back yard, still strapped into the stroller and then she would go around the corner to play with her best friend Kris. She would come back and get me on her way home and my mom was unaware of the entire escapade. I was so little that I just sat there, looking around and enjoying the sunshine. Mr. Fox worked so he was gone all day. Mrs. Fox was usually home but she never came out of the house. But one day Mr. Fox came home early and found me! He called my mother and asked why I was just “parked” in his backyard. My mom came and got me and waited for Patsy to come home. Of course, Patsy was frantic because she had “lost” the baby and, though relieved to see I was okay, she faced the wrath of my mother. My mother, as it happens, was not worried about me at all. She knew I was safe the entire time. No, she was embarrassed that Mr. Fox had called because that didn't “look right” and that was always the most important thing to my mom. Throughout our lives she always worried that we were doing something, saying something, wearing something or associating with someone that would make other people think it didn't “look right”. My mother was no snob. That's not what she meant at all. It was not the social economic standing of people we hung out with or the need for designer clothes. No, to my mother it was all about deportment, how you carried yourself, how good your manners were and if you took pride in your appearance. To her, these were the outward signs of a good character and it mattered to her what “Mrs. Kelleher's daughters” did, said and looked like when they were out and about. After all, we were the physical reflection of our parents.

 To some it might sound horrid that a mother would allow (read that force) a nine year old to take her two year old sister outside and expect that she would monitor that horrible toddler all day. I suppose now in this times it is a risk and likely cause for someone to call in Social Services. But back then, in that neighborhood, there was no way I was ever going to be hurt or kidnapped. In our neighborhood everyone knew everyone else's business. Every mom and dad had free reign to dole out punishment as they saw fit. If you were caught acting a fool at someone else's house they'd give you a swat, yell at you and send you home and, before you even had a chance to make up a good excuse, they would have already called your mom so she was well informed of your shenanigans even before you set foot in the door. Then you'd get another swat, some more yelling, sent to your room and, probably grounded for a while. Back then, before TV's and personal computers and Playstations were in every kid's bedroom, being grounded was like death. We never wanted to have to stay indoors and taking away our wandering rights was like tying us up and leaving us for dead! Yes, it was that dramatic. The funny thing is, just as each parent had full approval to punish as needed, they also would feed you and doctor you if you got hurt. If you happened to be over at a friend's house at noon, you'd get fed. They never sent you home at lunch time, only at dinner. If you fell and scraped your knee, they'd clean it off, put on some Mercurochrome, and give you a band-aid and send you back out to play. All mom's back then thought alike. If you got in trouble, or if someone said you did something wrong and called your mom, your mom would believe them, no questions asked. There were times when I got in trouble for crap I didn't even do but when I got home I still got it! My mom's philosophy was that if I was there at the time it happened, even if I wasn't directly involved, I probably at least thought about doing it so that deserved a punishment!

30 Letters in 30 Days...Day Four: the siblings...

Dear Verda, Butch, Kathy, Terry and Patsy,

You are my siblings and my closest friends. I grew up knowing that there was someone who would always have my back, support me through anything and keep me grounded by checking my ego every so often. I love you all for so many reason.

Verda, you're a full 20 years older than me. I don't even have memories of living in the same house as you because you were already off to nursing school by the time my memory starts. Still, we have had some times, haven't we? When we got older, all those crazy camping trips and fun day trips just hanging out and laughing at life. You've worked for the KAC for almost 30 years now and that, in a way, has inspired me in my work too. I like that we have that common bond of working with the disabled. It's good to have someone to vent to who understands.

Butch, you're the shyest person I know but also the funniest person too. I wish you could let others see that side of you more often. You make me laugh out loud! I know how difficult it's been throughout the years as you were bringing up your kids while your wife was away. You did a great job! They're all good people and that's because of the time spent with you. You should be proud. You gave 28 years of service to this country and still work hard every day to make ends meet. I hope that one day you can retire and enjoy those beautiful grand babies you have!

Kathy, I love the crazy way you constantly talk to yourself. Chattering away, narrating your every move. I love how devoted you are to your family. Even in the tough times, you stood by with a quiet strength that reminded me so much of Dad. I love how you shine when you talk about your Grand baby Sophie and how you almost always have new photos of her to share. I hope that when you retire you and Ron see some wonderful sights in that new recreational vehicle! I wish I could come with you!

Terry, you and I are closer than the rest, probably because I rent from you and see you all the time, but there's more to it than that. I know I can tell you anything and you will never judge me or shame me. You have supported me through some very tough times, financially and emotionally, and I will never forget that. I was scared when you told me you had cancer. I could only see the end. But you faced it with grace and a spirit of life that was indefatigable. I'll always be there for you. I promise.

Patsy, oh, how you hated me when I was born! I don't blame you! You were the baby for a full seven years and then, SURPRISE, I came along all cute and dimpled and irresistible. Then Mom made you take me everywhere which only added to your resentment but guess what? We grew up and we grew close. One thing I need to say is I don't think you will ever really know how much I and the others appreciate you taking such good care of mom. We couldn't do it. You stepped up and made it happen and I know it hasn't been easy. You work from morning to night, lifting, feeding, toileting, Mom can't thank you. I love you so much for doing it. I'm going to find some way to show you how much it means to me. I truly am. You're a remarkable woman. I know we don't always agree about a lot of things but you are one hell of a strong woman and I admire you for it.

I love you all so much. I love how close we are. I know I'm spoiled having you all right here in town and I can see you all weekly and spend time with you. I love that. And I know I have friends that envy us because of that! I hope you will all be around for a long, long time!

With deepest love,
Mary

At last...

As you few faithful readers know, my sibs have been going through some health issues lately. My brother appears to be out of the woods, so that's good. My sister, the one who ended up hospitalized, is having surgery this Friday to repair her leaky valves in her heart. My other sister, the one who hasn't seen a doc in forever and who was having a hard time walking, has FINALLY gone to see a doc. They're sending her for a full work up of lab tests and they've already determined she has high blood pressure and put her on some medication. I can't even tell you how happy this makes me. Not happy that she's not 100% but happy that she finally got around to addressing these issues. She wasn't looking good and, frankly, I was afraid she was just going to not wake up one of these days.

On a brighter note, one of my nieces had a baby! After 19 hours of labor (OUCH!!) Shawn Joshua Trepczyk was born. Weighing in at 6 lbs, 13 ounces. He was smaller than we thought he'd be because he just wasn't ready to pop out when they said he would. Mommy and baby are doing fine. Big sister, Desiree, is beside herself and Daddy is proud as a peacock. The full count for me is this: nieces and nephews = 12, great nieces and nephews = 11! I can barely keep track anymore!

Sibs, kitties, and other updates...

I realized I haven't update on how my sibs are! They're both home. My brother is doing very well. They put a screen - for lack of a better technical term - in his artery to prevent any clot particles from moving on. The clot itself has broken up nicely and he's really okay. My sister is also home but she will have to go back in two weeks and will, possibly, have surgery to repair the leaky valve in her heart. All of this is the long term affects of having had rheumatic surgery many, many years ago. But she's doing well too so we're optimistic about it.

As for the kitties...Arnie has returned to his previously kitten like energy which means, basically, I get little sleep. He tromps around all night and his favorite tromping spot is on top of me in the bed. I thought that closing the door would stop this but the little shit has learned to open it. Seriously, I watched him to this...paws on the door knob, lean his full 10 lbs on the door and slide one paw down to turn the knob. One click of the latch and he's in....with Brigette...on me...tromping. Sheesh! I can't be mad though. He's healthy and I was very worried about him when he wasn't so I let him tromp a while before I shoo him away.

As for me, I've spent an enormous amount of time researching immigration law in order to assist in getting Alex here. The US Immigration site is very helpful and clear which made that part quite easy. Now I'm starting to gather information on our eventual move back to Sweden - the long term plan - and I'm finding that it's very difficult to decipher the information from the Swedish Immigration site. I've found some interesting expat sites that have some helpful info on them but I think my next step is to write to the Swedish embassy to see if they have some informational brochures or fact sheets that would help. It may seem counterproductive to research both plans at once but the fact it to get anything approved by either government can take months, even years, so we want to know what we're up against and be prepared. we've decided to enlist the aid of an Immigration Attorney just to make sure all the i's are dotted and the t's are crossed. Everything I've read says that even one simple missed field in a form can put your application on the dead pile right away. It makes me wonder how those immigrants with no English speaking skills can do this at all!!

Sib update....

Okay, brother is recovering and may be sent home soon. Sister is still in the hospital. She had an irregular heart beat which needed to be shocked back into a normal sinus rhythm. She had rheumatic fever as a kid and this was probably something that has been brewing since then. The fluid around her heart is going away but she may have heart valve damage and may need to have surgery to repair the leaky valves. She'll be there a while yet.

After this wild and woolly weekend I've decided to take a lesson from Arnie...



He just seems to have the right attitude. Haha!

Everyone's falling apart here....

As if having a brother in the hospital wasn't bad enough, one of my sister's has decided to go and get herself admitted as well! She came down with what she thought was a cold two weeks ago but it never let up and kept getting worse no matter what she did. She finally went to the ER yesterday because she was having serious shortness of breath. They found she has fluid in her lungs and around her heart and she has an irregular heartbeat. They put her on Lasix for the fluid, and tomorrow they're going to try to shock her heart back into it's regular rhythm. So now I have two sibs in the hospital.

My brother is getting better though he's still there. They've moved him from ICU and are continuing to give him blood thinners to help. They think they are getting at the clot and he could be coming home in a day or two.

This has been a hell of a holiday weekend!!

Oh, brother revisited...

You'd have to know my brother to fully appreciate this but I went to the hospital to see how he was doing. He's all tanked up on IV morphine and Percoset. He was laying in his stylish hospital gown hooked up to any manner of machines that go PING. While we were talking, the phone rang in the room. My brother reached over and picked up his cell phone and proceeded to answer it. Which would have been find except it was the land line in the room that was ringing. So he says, "Whoever it was must have hung up!" I explained that it wasn't his cell phone that rang and we had a good laugh. Twenty minutes later his cell phone rings and, you guessed it, he picks up the land line and says, "Hello?"

Then his dinner comes. He ordered a hamburger and pudding. On the plate with the hamburger is a few pieces of lettuce, a slice of tomato and what looked to be about a half an onion cut up. He piled it all on his burger and proceeded to eat it. Now, my brother has "unique" table manners. He doesn't just take a bite, chew and swallow. He takes three HUGE bites (of anything he's eating), starts to chew and continues talking. Well, there's so much onion on this burger that while he's chewing the onion juices are going into his esophagus and he's talking...so he starts coughing which triggers the pain. It took him 20 minutes to eat his burger, biting, chewing, coughing, wincing...again and again. Finally when he was done he says, "I guess I shouldn't talk and eat at the same time." to which my sister says, "Oh, NOW you figure that out!"

So, he's doing okay except that the pain keeps moving around so they'll put him in ICU to better monitor him. His doc is conferring with the nuerologist who treated his head injury to see what medications they can give him to loosen up the clot. They can't put him on the usual blood thinners because they're afraid the head injury from the accident is not healed enough and he might start bleeding again. So, he'll be there a while until they get it all figured out.

Oh, brother....

Yesterday my brother ended up in the hospital again. You may recall he was in a near fatal car accident a couple of months ago. Well, he went to work yesterday, already not feeling well, and it just got worse as the day progressed. He was feeling congested and having a hard time breathing. He left work and went to the ER. Because of the recent head injury they immediately ordered a CT Scan to rule out that it was anything accident related. What they found was a blood clot in his lung. Of course, they admitted him and he'll be there, medicated, over this weekend. They're hoping the meds will break up the clot. I'm sure he'll be fine. Thankfully, he got there early and they caught it. But this whole incident got me to thinking about my siblings.

I'm the youngest of 6 kids in our family and all of my sibs are significantly older than me. My oldest sister is 68 years old! All of them, with the exception of my sister Patsy - next oldest to me - have had health issues this year. Two of my sisters, the middle two have arthritis and bad knees and feet which impedes their ability to do much of anything. I see them all slowing down with age and I know being the youngest will mean that I will see them get more and more problems and go one by one. Not that their on their way out just yet but it is inevitable that at some point this will happen.

I remember that this happened with my Dad. He outlived all of his brothers and sisters and those last years before he passed away he often talked about how he missed them. I have a very close family. Probably closer than most. Not a day goes by when we don't talk to each other and we hang out together all the time - even for mundane daily things like grocery shopping and whatnot. It makes me realize even more that I have to treasure this time now, while we are all still relatively healthy, and not let a day go by when I don't tell them I love them.

By the way, my Dad was in his 80's when he passed away and my mother, still kicking, is 90 years old. We come from good stock so I'm sure we'll all be here for a long, long time!