Book ’em

I've been really battling myself over this last trip to Biloxi (and, if ya' don't believe me, just read my October 19th entry). I did the "list of positives, list of negatives" thing, I've done the "drive to clear your head" thing, I've talked with work friends, friends that I've known since kindergarten, and everyone in-between. The only three people I haven't asked are my parents and my sister. I guess I haven't asked my folks because I don't want them to know that I'm even struggling with this at all. I think they'd just tell me to stop being silly and go. I haven't asked my sister because she's been away all last week on a business trip. So that'd point to "yeah, I should go".

The past 5 trips have been a real mixed bag for me.

Trip 1 was probably the most meaningful for me, as I learned the most and noticed EVERYTHING.

Trip 2 was flat out fun, because I knew more about where I'd be going, who I'd be working with, and the group was small enough and friendly enough that there were no staff issues.

Trip 3 was FAR too much work – there were TOO many people, too many independent folks going wherever, often without checking in, and when we had tornado warnings, I honestly wasn't even sure where more than ½ the team was or how to get ahold of them. I spent too much of my down time being grumpy. Having said that, having a group this large meant that our nightly updates on who had worked on what were a lot more interesting to me, because I often was unaware as to what the rest of the team had done all day. We also had the BEST group down-times (even with my mood) because there was SO much energy to play off from.

Trip 4 was a chore, because of three things: (1) I knew that my two closest friends (Jim and Nancy) wouldn't be there; (2) "Captain KillJoy" was our team leader and he turned out to be a well-intentioned ass-wipe; and (3) another member of our team made a bunch of pretty ugly assumptions about yours truly.

Trip 5 was good, if not rather quiet. We were a tiny group, we spent the week doing one task, but we had a good time on our off-hours and the other two members of the team had a MOSTLY open mind about us being there. OH, I'll add that this was probably the MOST educational trip because a friend of mine who lives in Louisiana met us for lunch and addressed the issues between Mississippi and Louisiana.

So I don't really know what Trip 6 will bring for me. My goal is, of course, closure. I'm 95% certain that any future trips to this area will NOT be made with my current employer. I'm 100% sure that any future work I do with the non-profit that I've teamed with to do this type of work will be somewhere else, because they'll be closing down their Mississippi site at the end of this year. (And yes, they've already opened up in San Diego, CA.) All signs point to this being my last visit to Pass Road in Gulfport, MS and I wanna do my best to sum it all up.

But, to do that, I have to go.

So stay tuned – Biloxi Blog, Week 6 starts next Sunday, November 4th.

(To get in the mood, I'm listening to Rissi Palmer's "Country Girl". Take a listen and watch her video.)

The Devil, you say ...

"Better the Devil you know than the Devil you don't."

"Run like the Devil."

"The Devil made me do it."

"He's a handsome Devil."

"The Devil inside ..."

"The Devil is in the details."

"The Devil came down to Georgia, lookin' for a soul to steal ..."

"Speak of the Devil …"

"Between the Devil and the deep blue sea."

"Idle hands are the Devil's tools."

"Give the Devil his due."

"Devil's advocate"

"How the Devil are you?"

"Tell the truth and shame the Devil."

"Shake hands with the Devil."

"The body of an angel with the Devil inside."

"The Devil works overtime."

Well come on and let me know - should I stay or should I go?

Well, Dad had his 4:30pm appt on Wednesday with his regular doctor, and a cardiologist. They reviewed what tests had been done, the results FROM those tests, xrays, dyes injected, blah blah blah. They noticed that the massive blood thinners they'd injected into him had awakened the gout in his knee, and that even WITH all the meds in him, the upper chambers of his heart were STILL working double-time, so they admitted him to the ICU.

It's a strange dance – when you wish, hope, pray for something, and your wish comes true, your hope becomes fruition, or your prayer is answered … and you realize you'd wished, hoped, prayed for the wrong thing. We're a greedy lot, we humans. We get what we ask for and keep our hands raised saying "whoops – what I MEANT to say was ..." The prayers went something like "Please get him back home safely". Can't say that wasn't answered. This was how it was meant to be, I am NOT questioning it. I just … I can't say I love it all that much.

So late Thursday afternoon, he was moved from the ICU to a regular room. The head of the Cardiology unit likes firefighters, so he's taken a special interest in my father's health. As such, the current plan of attack is that my father will go on massive blood thinners that he'll both inject and ingest, for three weeks. Every other day, he'll have to submit to blood work at the hospital. At the end of three weeks, the thinners should have done their work, and they'll sedate him and give the upper chambers of his heart a VERY MINOR shock, in an effort to realign the beats of the upper and lower chambers of his heart. The theory on this is that three weeks will thin his blood enough to allow for this small 'jump' to occur without causing any further damage.

And, while it's NOT about me … three weeks from now is when I would be scheduled for Biloxi.

See – THIS is where being an adult completely and totally blows. I know that I've said these trips will happen WITH OR WITHOUT ME, and they would. Hell, no one gave Eva, Kerry Ann, Paula or I any direction when we took this trip the first time, so I'm VERY confident that the team in November would have no issues finding their way around sans my involvement. So I can't say that I "gotta be there for the team" 'cause that's just exquisite bullshit. There's a part of me – a loud, self-serving, egotistical, self-absorbed part of me that wants to see this through. And that's NOT why I should go, and I know this … but closure. Damn it all, there's just *so much in my life that I've never had closure to* and I really don't want to add this project onto the already listing pile.

So ya' know how everyone keeps saying that my doing this work is just so great and giving and all? Truth is – honest – it's not. I get SO much outta doing it, I feel like I should be paying to have the option to do it. I know that I shouldn't go *and* I know that I can't stop living my life and wait by the phone for good (or bad) news. I know that I SHOULD go *and* I know that I will never, ever forgive myself if my mother is dealt another blow without having at least one daughter by her side.

Honestly – I'd like to open this up. I've heard stories already that range from "go and call them everyday and know that you can ALWAYS get on a plane and come home in less than 12 hours" to "I went, against my own wishes, and my father passed away less than 24 hours after I'd left". I'm NOT asking anyone to relive anything painful. I'm just … well, I'm a little lost and kinda fuzzy.

So whatcha got? Anyone?

The bad housekeeping seal of approval.

I CLEARLY get my housekeeping gene from my mother. We've spent the past two days getting my father's room ready for his arrival from Reno's Cardio Unit. Before we could do any real cleaning, we had to de-clutter. I've been told before that I have a high tolerance for living with stacks and piles and such, and I know this is true. But now I have proof as to where I get it from ...

We found Christmas gifts from other family members (including her and I) that have never been opened or used. We found clothing with tags still attached. We found long-lost items, and never knew we had items. Mostly it was me sitting at the computer working while my mom went through things. I think my being there applied just the right amount of pressure to get things in order. I didn't want to interfere – her husband has had a heart attack so she's got enough to deal with – but I knew that just being there was help enough.

Interestingly, we found bullets. Lots and lots of bullets. It's true that my dad was on his way to a hunting weekend, so I suppose it makes sense that he was getting his ammo together. Still, considering, it was a bit unnerving.

There were, also, times for laughter, THANK GOD. For their 25th wedding anniversary, my mom turned in some jewelry she hadn't been wearing and asked the goldsmith to please make a tie tack out of the materials. It became a small gold bar with four pearls placed diagonally across. My dad really liked it, and he was pretty bummed out when, just a couple of years later, he misplaced it. As we were cleaning on Monday afternoon, my mom came across a small box. Inside the box were about 6 bent paperclips, 48 cents in change, some business cards, more ammo, and the tie tack. The box was labeled "random crap".

When he walked through the door last night around 7pm, I told him that if he'd wanted to extend the hunting trip, he could have found less of a "drama queen" way to do so. He responded with telling me it was just a Viagra incident gone horribly horribly wrong.

Clearly I get my sense of humor from my father.

Heart Break

As I waited for my morning coffee order to be made on Thursday morning October 11th, my cell indicated I'd missed a call. I was kinda scattered, as I was getting ready for a trip to a state I haven't been to, to meet a bunch of folks face to face that I don't know, and had made reservations in two separate places that I'd never been to and had NO recommendations on. Some people, like my Dad, live dangerously. Me? I travel dangerously.

Scott had called to catch up, which we haven't really done since our half marathon. Since that time, I've received additional donations (which were VERY much a surprise), and received Todd's GREAT "remission" news. We had lots to catch up ON, but neither of us had time to actually do so. He was on his way to a client lunch and I was on my way to this trip so ….

I walked outside my office building to hail a cab. Ordinarily I'd walk across the street and get one from the hotel located there, but I wasn't in the mood and I had the time to wait. Within moments, two cabs pulled up, and the second one honked as tho' to tell me that while he wasn't first, he believed he deserved the fare more. I disagreed, and *my* cab driver thanked me for it.

In the city, you either get a chatty cab driver talking to you, or talking on his cell, or not chatty at all. My cabbie wanted to talk to me and, as I'm a morning person, I was fine with this. We spent the entire ride discussing karma. He'd worked hard to earn his cab, and while he knows it's not a glamorous job, it's interesting and it was his goal. He'd educated himself in his home town/country, and came here to the city with a goal of owning his own business and he'd succeeded, without sacrificing his morals or values. No matter what his line of business is, you have to respect that. I know I did. He noticed my fingernail (which stands out, as it's the only color on my hands, since I don't wear polish) and I told him how I'd earned it working in Biloxi.

I'm not for a moment suggesting that my Biloxi work is even REMOTLY equal to supporting yourself and achieving your goals, but I'm getting there, bit by bit. There are, for sure, easier ways (I *could* just write a check to a charity, for instance) but this is my way. That's how my folks raised my sister and I. I'm getting it done – my way, but I *am* getting it done. I know my mom is proud of my work there, as she reads my journals when I return. I hope my father is proud, too.

As we pulled up to the curb at the airport, the cabbie turned off the meter and deducted $10 off the total. I left the extra money in the back seat, with the hopes that karma would continue. If he didn't find it, his next fare would, which maybe is what was supposed to happen. I tipped him double what I should have, which he didn't want to accept, but finally did. And he kissed my hand as I exited the cab, and told me to have a blessed trip. That's actually what he said. It was pretty incredible.

Flash forward ...

As I'm writing this, I'm sitting at O'Hare waiting for my flight to go home. I received the news of my father's heart attack at 11amCT and I immediately called my sister and my mother. We are scared. We are separated, the three of us, at a time when we … when I … would really rather that not be the case. I have never felt more helpless. I have never felt more guilty. I have never felt more alone.

I gotta admit – I'm suddenly not feeling that much in the way of blessed.

A note from Todd

I try to be mindful in NOT talking about other people. I don't always succeed, but I *do* make the attempt. This entry will be different. This is ALL ABOUT talking about someone else.

As I've already written, on Saturday Sept 16th, I participated in a fund-raising half-marathon in an effort to support a coworker and friend of mine who was diagnosed with cancer earlier this year. Todd is married and lives in another state. I worked directly with him and adopted him into the inner circle of "my guys" that I knew I could hang out with and not have to worry about offending, etc. Todd is a supremely decent guy – honest and true to his word, kind-hearted and soft-spoken with a terrific sense of humor. I mention this only because he *IS* a sales guy, but he doesn't fit the typical sales-guy mold, which is why I knew we could be friends. (That's true for every one of "my guys" – not a typical one in the bunch.)

Todd sent out this email yesterday.

"I would like to express my extreme gratitude for the support that each of you have provided to me and my family over the past 8 months. Throughout the process, I was always comfortable that my company and my friends had my back covered while I worked through the details of treatment.
I am happy to announce that last Friday I took a host of tests and just received word that my cancer is in remission. (That is as close as you can get to being cured.)
Please do not respond. I just wanted to say thanks …. I'm back!"

Of course, I immediately called him and I said something elegant and touching like "F**K yes!" We talked for a few minutes, and I followed it up with an email to him reminding him that I don't ever want to have to walk another mile to support his sorry behind. He gave me his word that me he'd do his best.

As I mentioned above, I believe that Todd is a guy who stays true to his word. I pray that I'm right.

Not "Jewels" ... Jus’ "Jules"

On Sunday, I treated myself to some long-overdue shoe shopping. As I've been reminded, I have VERY expensive tastes in shoes, but as I've reminded back, I buy said shoes VERY infrequently so it all works out. Same for my taste in sunglasses – if I spend $450 on a pair of sunglasses, but use them for 3 years, that works out to 41 cents a day to have good sunglasses … versus say spending $25 on a pair and losing them every 4 months.

Shoe and Sunglasses Math – as brought to you by yours truly.

So I went to the very expensive, high-end mall (next to the very expensive, high-end University) and handed over Jake's keys to the mall valet. (I TOLD you this was a high-end mall. I'm not kidding.) A quick aside – I was wearing my hair in a pony tail, some Levis and a tee-shirt that said "Sheetrock Happens. New Orleans, LA". I did, however, make sure to wear a pair of low heels with socks, so as to try on what would hopefully be my new shoes.

I arrived to the Ladies Premium Designer Shoe department and walked to the area where "my" shoes would be found. I found what I wanted, I know my size for that designer, and so I'm holding a shoe in my hand and looking around for someone to assist, right? This individual in a three-piece suit and name tag was standing very close with seemingly nothing to do, so I approached him and asked if he could help me. He strolled away, without giving me so much as a second-glance.

Interesting – but not a unique experience. I refuse to "dress my part", as some do. I don't wear makeup unless the occasion calls for it. I don't have a manicurist and, currently, am sporting a blackened nail from work I've done in Biloxi, MS. PROUDLY sporting, I should add. I earned that baby. I have some jewelry that I wear regularly but you wouldn't recognize it right away as being from Tiffany's. The only diamond that is always with me is in the middle of my gold cross, which I purchased from Ireland. Even Jake, whom I adore, isn't fancy really. In short – I do not wear my so-called "worth" on my sleeve. I would far rather be judged by my heart than my pocketbook.

Anyway, I found another associate who was also busy, but not too busy to assist. She came from the back empty-handed, telling me that she'd order what I was looking for if I'd write down some info for her, which I did. When she came back to review what I'd written, I asked her if the guy that ignored me was a manager. She told me he wasn't, so after I ordered a second pair of shoes, I approached him again.

"Excuse me – can I have a moment of your time please?" I asked. "Of course", he said. "What can I help you with?" "Oh – not a thing, actually. That ship has sailed," I replied. "I just wanted to let you know that I just gave one of your co-workers my business in the amount of more than $1,100 in cash because you decided to not hear me when I first asked for help just a few moments ago. Perhaps next time you'll be more observant or, possibly, less judgmental." Then me and my jeans, tee shirt, and ponytail strolled away.

Now is it possible that this person literally didn't hear me? Of course it is. However the look on his face told me otherwise.

I hope that *I* remember what I tried to teach this clown. It's easy – hell, it's in our NATURE – to have snap judgments on other human beings. I hope that I continue to be judged incorrectly as a reminder not to do so myself.