[My] Life in Wisconsin

Casey and Me...

Casey and Me
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Good Morning Everyone;
Thought this was a very apt picture, and stolen from an email received.

Life in Flintville a few nights ago can best be described as a certain "Wits End."

I think Casey and I were both feeling more than a bit ugly...
(Very honestly, I don't know how come we weren't at each others throats much sooner)...

Patience perhaps.
Or more probably the thought that if we don't speak of what we might be thinking, those thoughts/fears will never be real.
The old "speak a line, jinx it fine" school of thought. Which is merely an open invitation to just "gunnysack" our feelings.
Sooner or later the gunnysack is full...

As Caseys mother, any words that I can write here will NOT accurately convey the fear I have and hold for my youngest child. And it is a fear that threatens to choke me at times.

It is a fear Casey has called me on too.
She does not see the tears I can hold in, (and erroneously sees this as strength).
I tell you now, it is most certainly not "strength" of any kind.
It is only the knowledge that if I do start crying I will never stop.

Her own fears are the same as my own. It is a fear of losing the life, or any part thereof, that she/we have come to cherish.
It is not a fear of pain.
It is not a fear of dying.
Her pain, racking her body most days, and the wonder of why pain pills will work for a while, and then quit?

The 'any part thereof'...
We once again spoke of her father.
Absentee at best.
(At 'worst'? I don't have the energy or the need to go there today)-
Suffice it to say that we are happy that Randy and Richard care enough to call, to come and see her, and not to be afraid to say "I love you" to her.

Fathers are NOT genetic.

Oddly then, that same thought goes back then to all of my children.

Not only one, though admittedly, this is absolutely where the lions~share of my attention and support MUST be for now.

Not for only two. Although without Robertas constant and abiding love and support, there would have been many days that Casey and I would have completely lost our minds.

But yes, I gave birth to four daughters.
As many of you know, the eldest two are off on their own selfish little journey that quite obviously does NOT include their baby sister.

Two of you have written to ask about The Trainwreck II.
Neither has called, neither has sent her a card, neither has even emailed her.
Nor has my sister, Mary.

These are their choices to make.
I cannot, will not, be responsible, or reflected, for the cruel actions of my two 30~year old children who were raised much better than this.
Nor can I be held liable for my 50~something sisters lack of support.

As stated above, these are their choices to make.
Dennis.
Zoe.
Jennifer.
Mary.
They made their beds. They sleep in them. Loss of any kind is never a warm companion though.

And so our 'words' had little to do with anger. But almost everything to do with frustration and fear. Whether these frustrations and fears were/are conceived or perceived as real or imagined; they are there.
And our ahem, 'words', (louder at the beginning), brought us to realize that we were only feeling MORE for the other than for ourself.

She is scared for what the next step in her treatment will be.

...For now it is a fear of the unknown, mixed with the damnable 'what~if's' that get thrown in along the way.

And she is tired of losing too.
Losing her education grants because of her illness was the hardest slap~setback she has faced.
Losing her last two jobs because she was hospitalized; only to return to be 'written off' their schedules.

I posted this photo in a recent blog...

Casey does not like it because she does not recall much of what happened that night when her heart went haywire, and God threw in a seizure to boot...

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She does not recall Greg, Roberta and myself, (not to mention probably a few of the medical staff), sending our Faith through to her as she shook, and with pain.

I took the picture as she had mostly quieted.

Much like the scenes on TV, there were medicine bottles and syringes laying all over the floor, and even under the bed as they brought her bed back up to a reclining position. There were wrappers from meds too. (Housekeeping must have had fun with this room when they got to it).

She does not remember...

But we do.

It is a captured still image that reflect SO much more than Casey resting...
To me it is all of the love, all of the anguish, and all of the pain that we all felt FOR her during that long hour +...

We do not know what is next. But we do know this much. With our Faith and our own love for one another we can face whatever 'next' proves to be.

Love to all.

XOXO
Anne

Originally posted to my Y! 360, Wednesday March 26, 2008 - 08:53am (CDT) 10