UP PERISCOPE, DOWN PERISCOPE

             Well, hello folks, it's been awhile, have been quite busy taking care of hubby, back and forth for his treatments sometimes 3-4 days a week, no rest for the wicked, we are in limbo now, only beginning the process so no miraculous cure has or will occur as of yet.                                                               Hospitals, i grew up with them when i was 9  I developed Rheumatic Fever, I had to spend 2 weeks at St. Bernards hospital in chicago, What a frightened child was I , no family around mom and dad could not visit every day there were 3 kids to take care of at home, kids were not allowed to visit back then and mom and dad could only stay for an hour when they came to visit. I felt completely abandoned, that was probably the start of all my anxieties and fears that  I face today.  I can remember in the evening sitting on the windowsill behind the nurses desk watching the el trains go by in the dark, the sparks flying off of the wheels, a pretty sight back then, my only form of entertainment besides reading. A huge window with a window seat that the nurses would set up with pillows and a blanket for me so i could gaze at the chicago sights of the evening, I even remember seeing children thru their windows across the street going about doing things with their families, eating dinner, playing board games, mom or dad helping with homework at the dining room table. I envied them, I sure did miss mom, dad, sisters and brother, homesick is what i was feeling, many nights i would cry myself to sleep. The day finally arrived when i went home, only to be treated like an invalid for a year, at this time we lived on the third floor of our home and i could not walk up or down any stairs, poor mom and dad had to carry me up 3 flights of stairs, needless to say i did not go out much, I had home schooling for awhile, I was finally able to attend a special school- Christopher School near 51st & Western. I did not like going there, taking a special ed bus every day, going to school with the "special kids" I had to use a wheelchair just like the rest of them, I felt so out of place, I wanted to be back at Vis with my old schoolmates. I was in a class play there and had a starring role as a singer but could not attend or participate in that affair due to the fact I came down with strep throat 2 days prior to the main event, back in the hospital, this time to have my tonsils removed. I was so excited I was told after the tonsils were out I could have all the ice cream I wanted.  TRICKSTERS!  They neglected to tell me I couldn't swallow or eat anything for over a week, it hurt to much to swallow. After a long year I was back to "normal" back to my old routine, enjoying childhood once again.                                                                                                                                             Just this week here i am back in the hospital, a different one of course, facing a colonoscopy and endoscopy, as i say up and down periscope. When you enter those doors all dignity and decency does not accompany you, the gown with the slit up the back opening, stripping me of all my clothes except socks of course. Me complaining because I did not shave my legs after my shower that morning. We had a contest the staff, my sister and myself that we put on the dry eraser board at the nurses station of how long my leg hair was, it was a split the pot contest, of course my sister and one of the nurses won the pot, enough for lunch for both of them.  3/4 inches was the winner !!                                 THE PREP-  a whole gallon of that luscious lemon lime drink to be taken in 8 ounce increments every 10 minutes for the next two hours, now mind you, you only drink half a gallon at this time. After about 45 minutes plan on being near a bathroom for the rest of the evening, do not let another human being go near that room, keep that path free and clear. The  prep started at 3pm, drinking that half gallon up until 5pm, now mind you the day before was a clear liquid diet which i followed religiously, so how could i have that much stored up in my bowels? Talk about uncontrollable, I was kicking myself on my sore behind for deleting that free sample of "depends" underwear, Two rolls of toilet paper and 4 changes of underwear later  I thought I was finally done about 10pm that evening , good i can get a few hours of sleep before i have to finish the other half gallon of that wonderful lemon lime beverage at 3am. Lo and behold i was up three more times before that alarm went off at three. 3am- every 10 minutes until 5 am  OMG, how can i make this 45 minute drive to the hospital without an accident, I was prepared I packed extra underwear and pants for the trip. Jeez, how much more can my poor sphincter take !!  Now I know why you need to be sedated for this procedure. My journey to the hospital went smoothly, thank GOD !  after all what's open at 7am in case an emergency stop is required, Just to be on the safe side I brought a 5 gallon bucket with me. I told my sister never, ever, absolutely never again, I would live with a tumor hanging from my rear dragging across the floor as i walked and still I would not do this again, C'mon there has to be a better way of doing this people !!                                                                                                                          All went well, polyps and biopsies done but doctor said everything looked pretty good, follow up in a month, So ask I  "So what is causing diarrhea and difficulty in swallowing ?  DR: "Are you under a lot of stress?" My reply was a hearty laugh, ain't that a kick in my sore butt, probably $15,000.00 to find out I have stress.  IMAGINE THAT !   So my "SPECIAL READERS" that's it for today.  Ta-Ta for now !!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

     

YO !!! HEY !!! YOU TALKIN' TO ME ?

    One possibly two years. Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, that's all I have been hearing for the last several weeks, people talking to me, me hearing the talk that is being addressed to me but not comprehending or understanding what is being said to me, what is my problem, shock maybe, not wanting to accept what they are talking about, doubt, fear, true facts that i do not want to accept maybe? I just can't make sense of it this rhyme or reason that is being thrown at me. Am i finally having a meltdown? Am what i am writing now making any sense? NO  it is not. Again, one possibly two years.                      I have been waking up daily for the past several weeks wondering " What fresh hell awaits me today?" I am finding that I have to summon up my "testicular fortitude" to get on with my day. Some days are better than others, it helps if the sun is shining, if it is an overcast and gloomy day I am screwed royally. Today I am kind of numb, hubby is having his liver biopsy today, we already have the diagnosis, now we get to know the stage, at this point I ask my self does it really matter. Yes, it does, mapping must be done to get the correct cocktail mix for him. What a way to put it huh! TALK!  I did not accompany him to university of Illinois for this today, my two knights in shining armor did, my son and brother in law, since I am not able to walk well anymore, I have come to find out I am more of a hindrance than a help, hence I have been asked to stay behind by my hubby, I will respect his wishes, even though others are thinking and wondering differently this is our affair and the way we chose to deal with this situation. TALK !  One possibly two years.                                                 So many words have been spoken to me lately, some that have been hurtful, Unbelievable, some not understood, some that make perfect sense, some loving, some hating and even some that are regretted. TALK !!  Hopefully when my mind clears somewhat these will all "sink in". The only word I do understand completely and with utter regret is "CANCER" to me one of the most hated words in our vocabulary. This old nemesis has decided to invade our lives again, So here we go again hubby and I on a new adventure exploring yet another avenue into the realm of   "CANCER CITY".   One possibly two years.                                                                                                                  I have a friend who is very religious, she eats, breathes and sleeps religion, her faith and hope in GOD is unmatched by all, she is truly an expert, I admire and love her for having this capability, she lost her husband a little over a year ago, he went peacefully in his sleep, she woke up one morning to find out her hubby had gone to be with his "savior". I now wonder did he go peacefully due to her faith and religious beliefs and am I being punished due to the fact that my religious beliefs have been in peril for quite some time?   Is my hubby's pain and suffering due to my being such a non-believer? Even in my state of quandary now I cannot accept or believe this, I have to keep telling myself this over and over.  "TALK"                                                                                                                                  This new path we are going on to explore is immunotherapy, it is new to us and something I will have to explore and gather more information about. We are hearing the good, the bad and the ugly about it. Of course the doctors are all in favor of it, after all that is their jobs, I myself am going to take this one day at a time, I am not going to get my hopes up again only to be hurt and disappointed at the outcome,  so that is why I am going to adopt a new attitude today, it will consist mostly of being in a numbing state and  being nonchalant regarding "TALK".  I will either choose to agree or disagree in my own mind with the words that are spoken to me. I will take everything with a "grain of salt". I have to keep my sanity about me, I must be strong and really enforce that "testicular fortitude" to help hubby down this path. As I have told this man many times I will be there for him, no matter what road he decides to travel on.   One possibly two years.                                                                          We met the new oncology doctor yesterday, hubby, our son and I were in attendance, I liked her, so did they, we had our question and answer session, her telling us things that we were and were not aware of. I finally asked her the prognosis of this new journey, doctor's answer  " Fifteen years ago, I would have told you three months, we have come far, so many new advances have come along, now we can say  ONE POSSIBLY TWO YEARS. "                                                                                             That's it ? Of all the words and "TALK" that have been thrown at me lately the one and only word , the true word I wanted spoken to me  "CURE" was not in that conversation nor in any other conversation lately, I don't think that word will ever be said here nor at any other time. Is this the one accomplishment, goal hubby and I will never be able to fulfill or achieve  in our lifetime?  Well, one day at a time, he can fight the fight but is it really in his hands anymore?  Remission? maybe? only time will tell.   "TALK"  "ONE POSSIBLY TWO YEARS"  those last four words are going to haunt me for  who knows how long, possibly forever. Just like a song that sometimes plays over and over again in your mind.  So my 'SPECIAL READERS' that's it for today.  Ta-Ta for now !                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

HUMBLE ABODES IN CHICAGO PART 2

                                                                                                                                                                                   I was talking to mom after I wrote my blog the other day, now mind you mom is going to be 85 this year and she insisted I did not go to St. John The Baptist for kindergarten class, she said they did not offer kindergarten class, I went to Sherman School on 51st. and Morgan, she could be right after all I was only 5 perhaps 6 at the time, she did remember our "King sitting on his Throne" story and also about sister falling in the sewer, we laughed and laughed and had a good ol' conversation. Mom said I forgot to mention how we would stop and pick our bouquets for Gram on our walks to see her, there was a field of dandelions and sister and I would pick bunches of them for both her and Gram, Gram was always so excited to receive them, she would get so excited about silly dandelions. God Bless Her !!                                                                                                                                                     We left our 51st st apartment and moved to 50th & Carpenter, 2nd floor this time. This home did not hold good memories for me except one, which i will tell later. There was an older widow occupying the 1st floor of our building, she was our landlords mother. Now this woman scared the Bejesus out of me. She was mean and scary, one day she would be kind and nice, giving us baked goods and fruit, the next time you saw her she would be yelling that we were too loud, yelling and running all the time and how the ceiling was going to cave in on her due to you "brats" too much noise running up and down the stairs," you walk don't run" said she,  ah the joys of apartment living.I can remember one day (another memory mentioned in above conversation with mom) how this lady attacked mom, she was chasing her and beating her with her broom, chasing her up the stairs and just hitting poor momma! Of course sister and I were crying and yelling for her to stop, mom gathered us all in our house and slammed and locked the door on her. Mom called her son and by the time he arrived she was still outside our door banging on it with the broom. She was yelling but we did not understand her words as she was talking a different language. Her son finally calmed her down and was so apologetic to us, he was quite upset and said how she never got over his father's death. Mom felt bad for her then,  sister and i were terrified of her after this, she did not stay too long in her home her son took her to live with him and his family. Another family with older kids than us moved in things were better then, they were "noisy" like us so we all got along just fine.                                                  In this home I almost lost both of my siblings, brother had the dining room table fall on him, sister choked on a shrimp tail while eating dinner, the tale of the table with brother is in more detail in my book so I won't repeat that incident, I remember how the CFD ambulance came and took sister away to the hospital and how i was left behind watching from the window and crying wondering if i would ever see her again. Sister arrived back home with mom and dad several hours later, good as new!!!  I was so happy to see her !!  Neighbors whom were taking care of brother and I left and we were all just so glad to be together again !!                                                                                                        Another memory i recall is the big house fire on 51st st. right across the street from Roma's Pizza, it was a late night house fire, a cold winter night, I can remember how the firemen stood there with those big hoses battling the fire, how huge icicles were forming everywhere, so much fire and smoke, the neighborhood ladies bringing coffee and hot chocolate for the firemen to drink to keep warm, pizza and sandwiches were also given to the firemen from donations from Roma's. The families were all okay, everyone survived, however they lost everything in that blazing inferno.                      Sister started kindergarten at Sherman school, by this time I was in 1st. grade at St. John The Baptist school, however after several days mom was called to sisters school and was told by sisters teacher that she was  "just not ready mother",  poor sister was going thru separation anxiety, a bad case of it so she was held back she would just start first grade the following year, leaving her mom, brother and me and her all alone was just something she could not handle yet. Now at this time she is the most independent one out of us four siblings. Also living here my baby sister was born, my memory of that is coming home from a christmas party that dad took sister, brother and myself to only to find a new baby sleeping in a crib that had been set up in the living room, that was our early christmas present that year. I was so excited, santa brought us a new baby, a real baby girl doll to play with, how exciting!!  As the years went on my baby sister was to become the apple of my eye and she got whatever she wanted from me !!
            I guess there will be a Part 3 to humble abodes due to the fact there are still a few more homes to visit and share with you. During our conversation mom said our last name should have been STONE because we were always  moving around like a "rolling stone", I asked her why we moved around so much and she said we had to go where the rent was cheaper, the family was getting bigger but the wages weren't.  Ah the "Great American Way".  That's it for now  "MY SPECIAL READERS".  Ta-Ta for now !                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

                                                                   

HUMBLE ABODES IN CHICAGO

       This post will be in two possibly three parts, having lived in so many humble abodes during my upbringing in Chicago it will require a short story edition.                                                                              Growing up in the city, people did  ask me what it was like growing up in chicago, since i had nothing to compare it to until we moved to the south suburbs when i was 14, i just did not know how to answer that question.  I know moving to a suburb coming from the city was quite a transition shock. How could i maneuver the streets out here with no buses ?  How could i take a walk with no sidewalks?  How could i go to the park to visit the library or sit by the lagoon when there wasn't anything comparable to it here? There were no corner stores to go to to buy my penny candy when i cashed in my pop bottles, mom had to drive us everywhere and it had to be at her convenience, I was so use to just hopping on the CTA or walking so that was an unhappy adjustment for me.                                 My first home that i remember was on 47th st just west of wallace ave. "canaryville or back of the yards", I was use to either name, we lived on the 2nd floor we were not allowed to play out front because of the" busy street" and there was a grocery store right across the street from us. I can remember we had a wringer washer, and on washdays mom would drag that behemoth of a machine into the kitchen from the backporch to put next to the sink. I remember my little sister getting her hand caught in the wringer one time, boy did she scream, no safety shut-off on that dinosaur, don't ask me how it happened but it did after all a 4 yr old can get into a lot of mischief, She was ok, no broken bones, just bruises. I also remember watching "THE MICKEY MOUSE CLUB" show every day when it was on. I even had a mouseketeer t-shirt and of course the mouse ears hat to match. Sister had one too, of course we were always dressed alike when we were little, like twins, we were only 10 months apart and very close, we still are. I know brother was a baby while we lived here but i don't recall much about him, as a matter of fact i don't recall much more about living here due to the fact i was about 5-6 yrs old.                                                                                                                                Our next abode was on 47th st. again, further west near Morgan st, this home had a fenced in side yard, a great place to play, even a clothesline for mom to hang out the freshly laundered clothes. I remember looking out the fronchroom window and directly across the street i could see St. John The Baptist church and school, a rounded dome with a bell ( if i recall correctly) that i could hear peal @ noon everyday and other times as well, I remember attending kindergarten at this school also.                   In our kitchen here we had a huge white porcelain sink I can remember mom giving baby brother baths in this sink, to me that sink was huge. I don't recall how this house was "laid out" though, but we did live on the first floor. Most of my memories are about the yard here, to me it seemed like a mini park, I guess due to the side yard, there was a sidewalk that ran along the side of the house in the yard, a manhole cover was on the sidewalk too, one day sister and i were playing in the yard and i heard her yelling  'HELP ME, HELP ME", but it sounded odd, like an echo, I went searching for her and OMG she had fallen into the sewer, I guess the cover was loose and she decided to jump on it because she liked the sound it made, this cover was the type that had holes on top and we were always throwing things in it, rocks, paper, it was full of all kinds of debris and here she was underground on top of it all, I ran in and retrieved mom to help her, poor sister was crying and screaming in that abyss she was also cussing up a storm, later mom said she wondered how her daughter learned how to talk like a "sailor" something i did not understand til i was older,  Our upstairs neighbor who was retired came down wondering what all that screaming was about, the Chicago Fire Dept. showed up and retrieved her. No broken bones, only bruises again and she did not even get into "trouble" for swearing that day. Needless to say we never, ever went near that entrance to hell again.                                                                                                                                                                  From this house we often walked to Gram's house when the weather was nice, brother being pushed in the buggy by mom, me and sister holding hands, walking or skipping ahead, always hearing, "Stay away from that busy street" or "Slow down, you're getting too far ahead of me". I recall one house in particular on our way to Gram's, it was on the other side of the street from us about 10 houses from ours, going up the front porch maybe two three stairs to reach the landing when the door was open you saw directly into their bathroom, what an odd place for that to be, but it was right there for all the world to see. As we were walking by one day, there was a man sitting there on the toilet, reading his newspaper, I knew what he was doing as his pants were around his feet on the floor and you could see his bare legs, poor mom was all upset rushing us ahead yelling at him to close the door, how rude he was she had little children with her, mom also used her sailor language that day.  Jeez, what a memory that was for me to be burdened with for the rest of eternity, now i just laugh and laugh when i recall that one. After that day mom told us to never ever go by that house alone again, little did she know sister and i would "sneak" down there to see what we could see, but we were never entertained by that sight again.                                                                                                               I also recall while we lived here it was my first trip to "RIVERVIEW PARK", my first encounter with a roller coaster did not go well, going on this ride with my dad i got "deathly ill", my hot dog i had for lunch was ejected from me immediately, this was my first time that i have ever encountered vertigo, which to this day i still deal with. I can recall being "sick" for several days after that so called fun filled day.  No other memories to recall about this abode, I don't know how long we lived here, but there were many other homes to come.  On that note i will continue chapter two another day my 'SPECIAL READERS'.  Ta-Ta for now !!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                CORRECTION  51ST. ST NEAR MORGAN NOT 47TH ST.  IT'S MY AGE PEOPLE, THE MEMORY IS GOING !!