Traumatic experiences

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
61

And do you know how much I hate David Crosby? It’s totally irrational, but I get so mad when I think about him. We watched a VHI Behind the Music special about him recently, and it told all about his reckless life doing drugs of every variety, getting women pregnant and leaving them and their children to fend for themselves, and so on. Then he was diagnosed with Hepatitis C, probably contracted for a dirty needle. But Mr. David “I’m a big shot musician not some old dairy farmer/gas pumper from Podunk, Oregon” Crosby got a new liver.

Meanwhile, my father, who never did drugs, who never fooled around on his wife, who worked hard to raise his daughters and support his family, lies dead in his grave.

I hate this.

“I hope life isn’t a big joke, because I don’t get it,” Jack Handy

The Kat House
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62

My dad died in basically the same way Gr8Kat and I stood and held his hand while he bled to death.

We did know how he got sick… He picked up hepatitis many years before that along with the fact that for a number of years he drank heavily. It didnt make it any easier knowing that he had in a large part done it to himself. At the end he was quite literally out of his mind due to toximia and it was scary seeing that happen to a strong and wonderful man.

I agree… the holidays will never be the same for me either. With the loss of both my parents, came the loss of many good times that we could have shared.

I am me… accept it or not.

63

It doesn’t measure up to some of the stories here, but it hurt me pretty badly:

My family (mom, dad, me, & little bro) just got back from vacation (camping). I couldn’t wait to see my cat. I was NOT popular at school at all, so Snowy was my best freind. I talked to her every day. That cat knew more about me than my parents do today. I couldn’t tell you how many times I cried to and “confided in” my cat. She used to sleep on my pillow every night.

Anyway, my grandma was supposed to be taking care of the cat and dog while we were away (she was supposed to drive around the corner twice a day to feed them). So we get home from vacation and find a note on the counter:

“Lynette, (my mom’s name)
The cat is in the laundry room. It did not eat its food and made tee on itself.” (Yes, I remember the EXACT, asinine wording).

So, I run to the room, open the door. Snowy’s covered in blood, urine, and feces. Her back legs are paralyzed. She looks up and lets out the most pitiful mew you’ve ever heard. Stupid grandma didn’t even have the sense to move the water bowl next to the cat, much less take her to a vet or at least call us (we had a cell phone & left the park number).

So mom rushes Snowy to the vet, calls home (I don’t know how much later), and asks dad if he wants to bring us (me & bro) up to the vet to see Snowy one more time. 'Course he said no, the bastard. Turns out she had a blood clot that had paralyzed her for the last 3-4 days. The vet said there was a surgery they could try, but she was very far along and it probably wouldn’t work. Dad said it was too expensive for it to “probably not work.”

To this day, when we go on vacation, I beg mom to board the (new) cat and dog. Anything to keep them away from grandma’s idiocy. I know Snowy would still have gotten sick even if we were home, but we would have brought her to the vet as soon as we realized she was in pain and before she was paralyzed and had a better chance of saving her.

This happened a week before I started fifth grade. I’m a junior now, and I still haven’t forgiven grandma. I still can’t stand her (not just for that, but it certainly adds to the equation).

Jeez, I had tears in my eyes typing that. I didn’t realize how much it had hurt til just now. Sorry it’s so long, guys, but I’ve never told anyone the whole grandma part before.

White Wolf

“Friends come and go, but enemies accumulate.”

64

Suicide isn’t especially courageous, but it does take guts to actually kill yourself. I should know; my low pain threshold has been the only thing standing between me and death many times.

Traumas:

I was a solitary kid. I didn’t like to associate with other kids; I preferred to read.

My parents would often see me reading, and one day I told my mom that I didn’t have any friends.

My parents freaked out and I spent the next several years seeing counsellors and being coached on my social life, which I found (to say the least) intrusive and humiliating.

Nobody thought to ask me whether I was sad or happy. They just knew I had to be lonely and suffering, because as everyone knows, all little kids are gregarious and sporty. rolls eyes

The entirety of all of the social interactions I was forced into during all of elementary and high school counts as one big trauma.

Of course, my life since then has been one big… well, how should I put it? A sort of eutrauma or good trauma. My whole worldview has been completely shaken up and rearranged, mostly due to my best friend and certified bad influence, James. I love him to death and he’s been instrumental in the formation of my individuality.

65

I only have two traumatic moments (that I remember - the index finger crushed in the closing sofabed doesn’t count because I can’t remember it, though I have scars. It makes it fun to get my nails done, because I have to explain what happened every time…)

  1. My father, in the kitchen, doubled over and gasping for breath, while my mother was on the phone with 911. He was having an asthma attack, but I can remember the awful noise he made - a half whoop/ half gasp, and his hands were clutched to his chest… scary, for someone in first grade.

  2. My little brother, only a baby, having seisures. They really only sounded like hiccups, at the time, but now I know they were actually grand mal seisures. I remember being at my grandmother’s house for some winter-related holiday, having my parents yell, “It’s happening!” and having the various siblings (dad had 7) and cousins of many persuasions gathering around.

My youngest brother is mentally retarded as a result of the seisures - they started at birth, due to a lack of oxygen to his brain. The umbilical was wrapped around his neck.

66

Being in the delivery room is always a traumatic experience. My son could have had major problems if the doctor didn’t have the right call. He decided for a c section at the right time, he came out ok.