The Days to Follow

Its amazing how, when someone close to you passes away, you slowly find your new normal. As normal as that can be when you are feeling like you have suddenly lost a body part. I had to go on for Taylor even though some days, all I wanted to do was stay in bed. I think Taylor helped me through Rene`s death more than I helped her through it. 


They say that kids under the age of 6 are very intuitive and that they can see people who have passed because their minds aren't so tainted yet. They cant think of ways to explain it away. They just know it to be true. One day when i just started crying out of the blue, Taylor asked why I was so sad. When i told her that I missed her Daddy, she told me not to be so sad, because Daddy was standing right behind me! There were so many times when she would say things like that. I picked her up from daycare one day and the girls there told me that Taylor had made them all cry. She was on the swing going back and forth, holding the chain with one hand, and her other hand was straight out to the side. They told her to hang on to the swing with both hands and she just looked right at them and said so seriously.... I'm holding my Daddy`s hand. Often times she would wake up in the morning to tell me that she had been talking to her Daddy and that his headache had gone away, and that he was having a good time with Grandpa Woodie. (My Dad) Those times would always give me so much comfort and make me feel at peace. Sometimes, in the car, she would tell me that Rene was sitting beside me or that he was on the roof of the car, looking at her thru the back window, waving and smiling and she would sit in her carseat and giggle to herself. 


Rene`s Mom invited Taylor and I to come stay with her in Calgary for as long as we wanted. She thought it would be nice for me to just get away from the house for awhile and she could spend some time with Taylor and I. I decided that would be a great idea, so we waited until after Nanas bday on Sept 20 so we could celebrate her 82nd birthday, and the next morning we packed up the car and headed to Calgary. My friend, Michelle, who I had mentioned before, came with me for the drive and was going to stay for a few days and then fly back home. It was good to be with Mom daSilva because we were both going thru such sadness and pain, and we lifted each other up. She spent alot of time with Taylor as well, and let me be alone when i needed to be. I would go to the gym to work off some steam... (probably the first time i had set foot in a gym for quite sometime but I found it to be therapeutic.) I spent some time with friends that i didnt normally get to see since we lived so far away, and hung out with my sister. Mom daSilva took me to the Opera (my very first ever) and Rene`s brother got me Flames and Canucks hockey tickets and I, of course, brought Darlene with me. (now thats a whole other blog in itself.. lol) 

I was sitting outside on Mom`s beautiful back deck one sunny day, and she came out and sat with me and we had a glass of wine. We began to talk about the future (which was really a scary concept to me since I was just trying to make it thru each day at this point) and I will never forget her words. She told me that I was still very young (31 years old) and that I had my whole life ahead of me. She said that it would be unrealistic of her to think that I would never find someone else to love.. (at this point I told her that I never would love again) and that as long as I was happy and whoever i was with treated both Taylor and I with love and respect, she would be accepting and happy for me. She is an amazing lady and she will always be my mother in law. At that moment, being with anyone else seemed impossible and I assumed I would just be there for Taylor and be alone. It was all so painful and I really didnt want to take the chance of losing someone again, and having to feel this pain all over again.



After a month of being in Calgary, it was time to face my fears, go back home to Vernon and try to continue on with my life. I needed to find a job... ( i had a daycare in my home the summer before Rene passed, but i just couldn't see myself doing that anymore. It reminded me too much of Rene`s first stroke in the driveway, as I had daycare kids with me that day, and the memory was just too painful) Neither one of us had a will, nor did we have life insurance so it was time to figure out our finances. I will tell you that I absolutely do have a will now and I tell everyone to make sure they do as well. We all think that we are invincible and will live forever, but I now know this to be untrue. I also learned how amazing the community was in my time of need. Our credit union manager called me one day to let me know they had deposited some money into my account in hopes that it would help just a little bit. Rene`s employer put out a challenge to his fellow coworkers to help raise money for us, and the the boss matched what everyone raised and personally delivered a cheque to my house. I was amazed and overwhelmed by the support and kindness of people who didnt even know me. I always said that if I ever got the chance to return the favor to anyone in need, I would definetly take that chance. One day, many years later, I would do exactly that. 

The Long Drive Home

I am pretty sure that driving home from the hospital was the longest drive in the entire world. Rene's brother offered to drive me home but I really just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. There were so many thoughts running thru my mind and I needed to process them all. 


1 - Did I really just lose my husband? The person who I had thought I would be spending the rest of my life with?
2 - How is this going to effect Taylor as she grows up?
3 - What am I going to say to Taylor to help her to understand why she will never see her Daddy again?
4 - How can I go to work tomorrow?
5 - How am I going to live without my husband?


These are just a few of the questions that ran thru my mind on the drive back to Vernon. 


There was one thought that I remember so clearly that day. One that I will never forget. As i drove the highway back to Vernon from Kelowna, along Kal Lake with the cliff and drop off into the lake on my right, I thought to myself..... one swift turn of this steering wheel to the right, and all this pain I am feeling will be gone..... 2 things stopped me from doing that. Knowing Taylor was at Nana's, not knowing that she had just lost her Dad, and if i chose to drive off the cliff, she would be an orphan... and the fact that Rene's Mom, my wonderful Mother in Law who i loved dearly, who had just lost her youngest son, was in the car directly behind me. I thought of her pain and how she would feel watching my car careen off the side of the cliff into the lake below and I realized how selfish I was being. I needed to just face this pain and fear head on, smarten the hell up and be there for my family. They just lost a son, a Dad, a brother in law, a friend..... how selfish I would be to take my own life now too. So I drove on to arrive at Nana's shortly after with not ever having another thought of suicide again. 


I recall a friend (Jauna) calling me on my cell just after i made that important decision, and as i answered, she asked me how Rene was doing... I then realized this was going to be a conversation that I would be repeating over and over in the coming hours, days and weeks. This was before the days of Facebook, so really, news didnt spread as quickly and as easily as it does now. I said to my friend.... "Rene is gone" and she simply asked... "where did he go?" No one ever thinks someone is going to die.. I mean, yes of course, we know that everyone eventually does... but we never expect it to happen to us or someone that we know. This was a conversation I would have for days to come. 


We arrived at Nana and Grandpa's in a caravan of cars. Myself in mine, Luke (Rene's brother) and Mom daSilva (Rene's Mom) in hers, and Michelle and her Mom in the 3rd vehicle. It felt like the march of death walking up the walkway into the front door. Taylor jumped into my arms and hugged me and immediately asked how Daddy was. No one looked at anyone, for fear of making eye contact and bursting into tears. I took Taylor into the tv room to have a talk. No talk that any 3 year old should have to hear. I sat her on the couch and looked in her the eyes and told her again about Daddy's really bad headache, and how he was just too sick and the Dr's couldnt help him, and that he wasnt coming home. She didnt cry. She looked up at me and said..." So Daddy is up in the sky with Grandpa Woody then? That will be nice for Grandpa cause now he isnt alone." Um WHAT? How can this child be so calm, so reassured instead of sobbing in a pile at my feet? She amazed me that day. I often think that my Dad's death (which will be a story to blog about soon) was a stepping stone for what was to come, to prepare me for this moment, to help Taylor understand death and loss, and if nothing else, maybe make something so horrible, just a tiny bit easier. 


I dont really remember much else about that day after that. We (Luke, Mon daSilva, and I) decided that we really didnt want to go back to the house that night, that it was just too painful, so we got 2 rooms at the Best Western Vernon Lodge. Taylor and I had our own room and by the time we went home and packed a bag for us, and got our room, i realized how mentally and emotionally exhausted I was. I had told Jauna when she had called me earlier that I didnt want visitors.... but as a good friend does, she didnt listen. Shortly after arriving at the hotel, i heard a knock on my door and Jauna and Diane were standing there. Noone had to say anything. I just let them in and we all sat on the bed and cried. We had the tv on and turned to Much Music for the background noise and I will never forget the first song I heard after losing Rene. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6e4Zv-0O3uc

To this day, I cannot hear this song without having tears coming to my eyes.

The Stroke

When you are 31 years old, the last thing you expect to hear is that your 32 year old husband has had a stroke. 


The Drs said that Rene had suffered a Transient Ischemic attack. (or mini stroke in laymens terms) They werent sure why it happend but after running a few coordination tests, they came to this conclusion. It was a Wednesday. The first night, Rene spent the night in the emergency ward and in the morning, because of lack of beds, he was moved up to the maternity ward.... yes, you read that correctly.... the maternity ward. He was very edgy and miserable and had a severe head ache. The nurse explained to him that because he hadnt had a smoke since he was admitted, (yes, he was a smoker) he was experiencing withdrawal symptoms and gave him a Tylenol 3. We talked to some of the specialists on duty and they talked more about the stroke and that once he went home, he would need to inject  himself with blood thinners every day but that he would be ok. They said he would be discharged the next day, Friday by our family Dr. We waited all the next day for him and he never showed up. I finally called him at his office at 4pm on Friday as I knew he was leaving for a week for summer vacation. He didn't have time to come in and talk to us so he said he would give home care instructions to the nurse and send the discharge papers thru on the fax machine. Once we were shown how to do his injections, we were allowed to leave. A year or so later, I would come to find that the specialist had come up to see Rene just a half hour after we had already left, to tell us not to go because he was concerned..... If we had only waited a half an hour more.......


Rene has been home from the hospital for a week now and things seem to be back to normal except for the fact that he is injecting blood thinners into his stomach everyday. I noticed that his moods were starting to become a bit eratic though... such as, he would be laughing one minute and go into a fit of anger the next minute. I assumed that this was stress from the stroke and the fact that he was now on the wait list for heart valve replacement surgery... (let me rewind a bit here)

Rewind back to January 2001 - Just before Christmas of 2000, Rene had the flu and couldnt seem to shake it. He lost 30 lbs in about 6 weeks which was becoming a concern so I FINALLY  convinced him to go to the Dr. in January. We had an amazing family Dr at the time and he sent Rene for a bunch of tests but they all came back with nothing. He then sent him to the hospital for an ultrasound of his heart. Rene was not even home from the ultrasound when the Dr called the house and told me that as soon as Rene got home, to bring him down to the office. I was scared! When we got there, the Dr explained to us that they had found a "piece" on his heart valve and he needed to be admitted to the hospital right away. After some tests, it was discovered that Rene had Endocarditis... 

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0002088/

Rene had to stay in the hospital for a week and he recieved heavy duty antibiotics to get rid of the bacteria on his heart valve. (he had a leaky heart valve so would eventually need heart valve replacement, however, our cardiologist wasnt in a hurry to have this done) After a week, he was sent home with an intervenous antibiotic drip that would supply him with more antibiotics for another 6 weeks at home. After the 6 weeks, he had check ups with all the different Drs and his cardiologist said the "piece" on his heart valve was now sterile and he had nothing to worry about. Noone said that the endocarditis could come back and noone told us that the piece could break off and cause a stroke. 

Back to August 2002 - It is now August 31 and Rene has been home for 8 days. The mood swings have gotten worse and he has no energy at all. He spends alot of time sleeping which i continue to blame on the stress of the impending heart valve replacement surgery.... Saturday morning he gets up early and decides he is going to cut the lawn. I tell him to leave it and that I will do it when Taylor gets up but he insists that he is tired of laying around and needs to do something. He tells me to just stay in bed and relax so that's what I do. I hear the lawn mower turn on and it goes for a few minutes then stops. This is not unusual so im not worried. Taylor is now up (she is almost 4) and is in the family room watching tv. I am just getting out of bed when I hear Rene come inside. No big deal. The lawn mower must have ran out of gas..... If only that was what the problem was.....Rene comes stumbling into the bedroom, dragging his left leg behind him, his left arm hanging loosely by his side. He has a look of fear on his face and  he simply says, "its happening again." I jump out of bed and feel like im going to throw up or faint from the adrenaline that is pumping thru me. I run to the phone and dial 911. Taylor looks up from the couch and asks if Daddy has another headache. My heart starts to break. The ambulance arrives in record time. I call my Grandpa and ask if he can come pick up Taylor so I can go to the hospital with Rene. The paramedics have to get the "chair stretcher" as our hallway by our bedroom is small and they cant get the regular stretcher into our room. As they wheel Rene out of the bedroom, into the living room, Taylor asks, "May I hug Daddy?" Of course you can, I tell her. Give him lots and lots of hugs to hold him over until he comes home. I stay in the house with her as they take him into the ambulance, and we are watching from the family room window. As they lift him into the back, they stop and Rene waves to Taylor with his good arm and she waves back, and then the doors are shut. I will never, as long as I live, forget that moment. It was the last time Taylor saw her Daddy.

By the time I arrive in emergency, Rene is being looked at by the Drs. We see the Dr who is covering for our now family Dr (our original one that discovered the endocarditis in 2001 is now working in Vancouver, so we have a new one) because, if you remember back a week, our Dr was going on summer vacation and released Rene via fax machine. I call over to him and he comes running and asks what has happened. He immediately sends Rene for a ct scan. The results are back quickly and it is determined that he has TWO aneurysms in his brain.... 2 aneurysms that weren't there 8 days ago.... Hhhmmm.. They are now concerned about the blood thinners in his body so they give him plasma which reverses the effects and thickens his blood. The Dr says he is waiting to hear back from Kelowna's neurologist and if there is no one there, he will be arranging for a helicopter to take Rene to Vancouver. Rene says, "I dont like helicopters" and the Dr says, "I dont like strokes."  Shortly after, the ambulance arrives to take Rene to Kelowna. I ask if Im allowed to follow behind them but they tell me, "No, you are to drive the speed limit and meet us there." What? i dont get a speeding siren escort? No fair!! lol They think im pretty funny! I get to Kelowna and the nurse in emergency takes me to where Rene is. He is having some blood tests and an angiogram. The only thing Rene is concerned about right now is where they have to stick the angiogram tube... Clearly we both still have our sense of humor! LOL

Hours later, he is moved up to the CCU (Critical Care Unit). The neurologist is supposed to come up right away and see us but then there is a massive trauma that comes in so we have to wait until he is done in surgery. He finally comes in around 10pm and explains to us what is going on. The "piece" on Rene's heart valve broke off and went to his brain, causing the larger, more serious stroke. He says that Rene does, in fact, have two aneurysms, however, if you were to have an anuerysm, this would be the kind that you would want. (good news, I guess...) He continues on that Rene will be fine eventually. He is young and he will have to have physio for his left side that is not mobile right now, but that down the road, he will be back to normal. He explained what all the different iv's were for and mentioned antibiotics. I asked what those were for. He looked at me as if I had already known this and said, "its to treat his endocarditis." I said, but he doesn't have that anymore.. He looked at me and said, "his blood tests showed, that yes in fact, he does and has probably had it for about a month." Suddenly i remembered the "flu" that he had been unable to shake a few weeks back. My stomach now feels sick. Why did our family Dr not check for this 10 days ago when we were in emergency the first time? All Rene cares about is that he doesnt have to have brain surgery.... we all laugh. Its now quite late and I wasnt prepared for an overnight stay so Rene tells me to just go home and be with Taylor and to come back in the morning so after making sure he is sure, I relent, and make the drive back to Vernon. I call Nana and Grandpa, as that is where Taylor is, and they say to just go home and get some sleep and come by in the morning so that is what I do. I really dont sleep much and when i wake up, I call the nurse to check on Rene. She says he had a bad night, the pain in his head is really bothering him and he didnt sleep much but he is fine. She told me to take my time and be with Taylor for a bit and come in around lunch time so that is what I do. I dont want to bring Taylor with me yet because Rene asked me not too as he doesnt want her to be scared, so she makes him a "Get better soon" card for him. I call the nurse again as im on my way to the hospital around 1030 and she says he is napping so i decide to stop at Costco and grab him a few of his favourite snacks and some magazines for him to read. As i arrive and am  walking into his room, he has his back to me and is talking to the nurse. I hear him ask, "Do you know when my wife will be here?" and as she looks up and see's me, she says, "She is here now." She leaves the room as I walk over to him and he holds out his hand. I hand him the card Taylor made for him but his head is in such pain that he asks if I could just put it on the table beside him and he would have a look in a bit. I take his hand but he lets go and says he is sorry, but it hurts his head even to hold my hand, and i tell him its ok. At that moment, he grabs the rail on the side of his bed, winces in pain, and yells out. I ask him if he wants the nurse and he nods yes. I run to find her but she is with another patient. She looks a bit annoyed so i hang back a bit, but then finally i just say, please come quick. We go back to the room, and Rene is siezing! She calls the Dr and all of a sudden there are 6 people surrounding his bedside. I see blood coming from his mouth from him biting his lip.... I run out of the room and slide down the wall to the floor. A lady visiting her family member sits beside me and asks me if I am ok. Do I look like Im ok, i ask? I feel bad, even to this day, for snapping at her like that. Then the nurse comes out and asks me if there is anyone she can call for me. This cant be good, I say. I dont know who to call. My Dad is no longer alive, I dont want to upset my Nana and Grandpa, so I tell her to call my friend, Michelle. She does, and immediately comes back and says she is on her way, and I told her not to speed. I laughed, Michelle always speeds, I say. The nurse takes me to the "family room".... another sign this is not going to be good. She tells me that they are taking Rene for some tests and that he will be wheeled past the family room, so to watch for him. As they come down the hallway, i can see that his eyes are closed, and he has a tube down his throat helping him breath. I ask if im allowed to say anything to him and they say yes. I lean over and kiss his forehead and tell him that everything is going to be ok. (if only this were true)


 I had called Rene's Mom the night before and had told her what was going on and that Rene was going to be ok in time. She wanted to drive out that night, (She lives in Calgary) but I told her i didnt want her driving in the dark, and to just come in the morning. As i sit in the family room, waiting for someone to tell me something, I think now of his Mom who is on her way, who thinks she is just coming to see her son in the hospital but that he is going to be ok. I feel sick. Michelle, of course, arrives in record time (Armstrong to Kelowna in 30 minutes) but it is too late. The Dr has just been in to tell me that Rene is brain dead, he shows no sign of life and that he will never wake up. He has been moved to ICU, connected to machines to help him breath and that I can see him whenever I am ready. Will I ever be ready, I ask.

I make some calls and wait for Rene's mom to arrive. This seems to take days but it is only a short time. Before she comes, I ask the nurse to stay with me incase his Mom needs her. Rene's brother is also on his way via airplane from Calgary, also thinking his brother is going to be fine. I cant even believe this is happening right now. Naturally Rene's Mom is in shock and we just hold each other and sob uncontrollably. We find the strength to go see him. He appears to just be sleeping. The Dr clearly doesnt know what he is talking about. This isnt actually happening. These kinds of things dont happen to us. I sit beside Rene and take his hand. He is breathing and warm, I say. The nurse says thats only because the machines are keeping him alive. Rene's brother arrives and we explain what has happened. In all the years of knowing him, I dont think I have ever heard him swear.... except for now. The nurse asks us if we would like a priest to come. I say no, we arent religious but Rene's Mom said she would like that so we do. I feel as if im watching a movie, like this isnt really happening to me. Everyone leaves the room so I can be with Rene alone. I hold his hand and tell him everything I want and need to say, I tell him I will take care of Taylor and his Mom. I ask him to give me a sign one day, that he lives on, and ask him that if he does give me a sign, please do not do it at night as he knows I am scared of the dark. I let everyone else have their private time with Rene and then we all come back in together as the nurse turns off all the machines keeping his body alive.


 I have to tell you that it is nothing like it is on tv. They do not unplug the machines and the heart stops beating and the machine immediately shows a straight line and the beep from the machine goes into a constant beeeeeeeeeep. No, thats not what happens. The heart continues to beat....... and beat....... and beat...... and beat.... As i am holding Rene's hand up towards my face, I look down and see all the color run out of his hand, starting at the tips of his fingers and then down his fore arm. I put it back down on the bed and the color comes back just a bit. He is leaving us. My heart is now broken. Oh my God, how will I tell Taylor?

Rene

In the summer of 1992, I met Rene. My friend, David, introduced us one night at 3 Cheers.. (a bar in Calgary) I really didn't like him when I first met him. I thought he talked too much which is funny because after getting to know him, he was actually pretty quiet. A couple weeks later, I saw him out again and got to talking with him and we exchanged numbers. We started spending alot of time together and I really liked him although, even then, I saw some red flags. I still lived with Darlene at this time and so the 3 of us would spend alot of time together. We mostly did alot of drinking and eating out..... so the weight slowly kept creeping up on me. I never weighed myself back then because what I didn't know, didn't hurt me and i preferred to live in denial. And besides, we were having way too much fun to worry about things like my health. Rene had a temper and if he got mad at you, he would go for days, or even weeks, without talking to you. He worked for his brother at the family travel agency when I first met him. One day his brother said something that Rene didn't like, so he walked out and didn't go back. I remember asking why he didn't just call his brother and talk about what happened but he said just to never mind, I didn't know what I was talking about so I stayed out of it. One night i was at his apartment and I was going to spend the night, and i made a comment about how cute his freckles were, and that they were even on his lips. (he had freckles on his face and arms and i thought they were so cute) He immediately pushed me away, got up off the couch, pointed to the door and told me to "Get the hell out"! I was shocked and confused and asked him what was wrong but he wouldn't answer me. He locked himself in his room and wouldn't speak to  me. After about 20 minutes of trying to get him to talk to me, i gave up, got my stuff, and drove back home. I was so embarrassed showing up at home, and i didn't want Darlene to think bad things about him so i tried to make something up but she didn't believe me. Things like this were starting to happen more often than not and Darlene was getting fed up with it. I always made excuses for him... he was stressed cause he wasn't working, he wasn't getting along with his brother, etc etc.... I think I knew deep down that those were simply that.. excuses... but because i was so insecure and lets face it, used to verbal abuse, i just accepted it all. I really didn't know any better. 

We were together for about 3-4 months when he moved in with Darlene and I. I'm not sure how much longer after that, we decided to move away from Calgary. We couldn't seem to get away from the partying lifestyle living there, so we thought BC would be a nice change for us. The hardest thing I ever did was move away from Darlene. She was the only person that really understood me and I knew it was going to be sad without her. Rene told his Mom that we were moving away and she was sad but I think she was happy that maybe he was going to get away from all the drinking and make a new start at his life. We thought that we would move to Whistler.(Rene loved to ski and I loved BC so we thought that would be a good choice.) We stopped in Vernon to visit my Nana and spend some time with my longtime friend, Michelle and she convinced us to stay. We stayed with Michelle for a short time while we looked for a place of our own. We found a basement suite and moved in shortly after. I think we were there for about 5 months, when I came home one day to an eviction notice on our door. The landlord, who lived up stairs, had written that she was tired of our fighting and thought it was time we found somewhere else to live. It was true.... we did fight alot.... I dont think the alcohol helped matters much either so things always would escalate worse than they really should have. We moved to an apartment across town and nothing really changed. I think I was addicted to the whole process...... We would get along really well, then I would say or do something to upset him, he would get mad and either not speak to me for days or let me know how bad of a girlfriend I was, how I didnt understand him, how I would never find anyone that loved me like he did, the fight would escalate, I would apologize and things would be good again... for a short time. I remember one night having the police coming to our door and me having to call a friend in the middle of the night to come get me. We ended up buying a house and got married in 1998. Now dont get me wrong, I loved him very much and I know that he loved me. He had some demons of his own that he didnt know how to deal with and he didnt like to talk about things so they just remained bottled up inside. 

We ate out alot because Rene was a very picky eater, and lets face it, I wasn't a very good cook. The things I did know how to cook, he didn't like to eat. One night i thought i would surprise him with dinner and made pork chops with mushroom soup on top with some rice. He came home from work, i served him his dinner, he took 1 bite, spit it back out on the plate and said it tasted like puke. I was so hurt and i got mad at him, so he threw his plate with his food still on it, across the kitchen and then told me to clean up his mess as he walked back out the door and drove away. I was heartbroken. If only I could just do things right and not keep screwing everything up. 

In November of 1998, we gave birth to our daughter Taylor,. She was so beautiful and perfect. All I wanted to do was be a good Mom and not repeat past mistakes from my childhood. Obviously, being pregnant, I wasn't drinking, and that continued on after Taylor was born. I had alot of anxiety because i was trying so hard to be a good Mom. I think Taylor sensed that from me, and so she was a very fussy baby. I got a bit depressed after she was born and i felt so down all the time. She had her days and nights mixed up so i was up alot at night and then would try to sleep in the day but I felt like i needed to get things done at home while Rene was at work, so I didn't get much sleep in those first few months. At that point, my weight was at an all time high. It was a cold winter that year, and so I used the cold as an excuse to stay inside and not go for walks with Taylor in her stroller. I would crave McDonald's and I would go thru the drive thru at least twice a week and go back home to eat it where no one would see me. If people didn't see me eat it, then it must not have happened, right? 

Rene and I continued to have our ups and downs... another visit from the police to our house, a few nights staying at a friends house, but we always seemed to make it thru. One of the turning points for me was when Taylor was 6 months old and Rene had gone out one night to play pool with the boys and came home at 6am the next morning. I was sitting on the couch feeding Taylor and I didn't say much. I could tell he was still feeling the effects of the night before so i didn't want to start a fight right then. He was in the mood to fight though so he kept asking me what my problem was and wouldn't let it go. I explained that I had been up most of the night worried sick about where he was (remember, cell phones weren't really a necessity at this time)  and that I had no way to get in touch with him to make sure he was ok, nor did I know who he was with. He got mad and called me some profanities but i refused to give in this time and join the fight, especially because I had Taylor in my arms. He continued on and walked into the kitchen to walk out the door and I remember telling him to "kiss my ass"..... From the kitchen, I heard him chuckle and say...." I dont really have that kind of time, considering the size of your ass." I was heartbroken and hurt. I placed Taylor gently into her baby swing, strapped her in, walked into the kitchen, and punched him right in the face. I don't know what came over me..... All the years of my Dad (whom I loved so much) telling me how bad I was, fat I was, a failure I was.... and then to have my husband (who I also loved so much) basically say the same things to me... I just blacked out! We went to counselling shortly after that and it really seemed to help. Not only did we deal with our marriage problems, but I was able to go by myself and talk about alot of my childhood issues that I carried with me into our marriage. Rene was adopted and so he had some issues of his own that he was dealing with and he was really doing great at working on those.

(Now please dont get me wrong.... It wasn't all bad. We had alot of fun together and he loved Taylor with all his heart and was so good with her. I loved him with all my heart and thought we would be together forever. His family was so loving and kind to me, and they still are. This, of course, is only part of the story and I can only write so much at a time. As I write this blog, my mind seems to jump from event to event in no certain sequence and so please forgive me if it all seems so negative to start out.... Everything that has happened in my life has shaped me into the person that I am today and so I am grateful for every moment in my life... Good and bad. )

I will never forget that day in August of 2002. We had decided to paint our house blue. We spent alot of time on Kal lake on our boat (a 1971 boat, none the less, but we enjoyed every minute of it... when it would start, that is.. LOL) There is a house on the lake that was painted a dark blue with cream trim and I absolutely loved it, so one day Rene informed me that even though we didnt have a house on the lake, he was going to paint our house to match the one that I loved so much. The house was painted and he was working on the trim. He was in the driveway and I was standing there with him and we were having the best talk. (I wish I could remember what we were talking about now)... All of a sudden he started babbling and not making any sense. I thought he was being funny, so i laughed and asked him what he was saying. He stumbled towards me with a look of fear on his face and I asked him if he was ok. He wasnt mumbling anymore but i noticed the left side of his face was a bit droopy and he was drooling a tiny bit. As he walked up the back stairs to go into the kitchen, i asked him if he was ok. He looked at me and said.... "call the ambulance." 

Getting to Know Me (Part 2)

Darlene and I

I would have to say the most fun I had in my 20's was when I lived with my friend, Darlene. I met her in 1992 when the Safeway that I worked at closed down and I was transferred to another location in Calgary. Darlene worked at the customer service desk there and we hit it off right away.... Ok, no we didn't. Remember, I was super shy? I didn't know anyone at that store and at the time, it was the largest Safeway in Western Canada so i really did feel like a fish out of water. I felt like everyone was staring at me in my polyester pants and unflattering, white polyester Safeway top.... Man, those uniforms were BAD!! Every few days, Darlene would yell at me from the customer service desk at the till I was working on and invite me out for drinks at Don Cherry's, the pub up the street from Safeway where all the employees went after work. I told her I didn't have anything to change into... she offered to lend me something... I told her i couldn't afford it.... she offered to lend me money.... i told her that I wasn't feeling well.... she told me to "Shut the EFF UP" and come out with her and the girls..... Finally, I gave in and went. It went all uphill...... or downhill (LOL) from there! I lived quite a ways away from the store and my car wasn't the most reliable and she needed a roommate so we got a super cute basement suite together. She didn't have a car so we shared mine. We were known to have the BEST Safeway parties around! Yep, you guessed it.... the drinking and eating bad food continued thru my 20's. I was aware that i was continuing to gain weight but I was having so much fun that I really didn't care. Everyone once in awhile id feel bad about my habits and go for a bike ride.. that would last for about 20 minutes and my butt would be sore from the seat so back home I would go. We lived, literally, within 20 steps either way of a McDonald's, Wendy's, Mr Sub, Dunkin Donuts, Panago (Panagopolos at that time) and the Pied Pickle. (That was a pub directly across the street from our house! What more could a girl ask for, right?) 


I really didn't see my parents (Dad and Step - Mom) very often. I was in South Calgary and they were in Airdrie. My real Mom lived in Ontario and of course, I couldn't afford to buy a plane ticket to go see her. Its hard to save money when all you do is work, drink and eat! Sometimes I wouldn't call home (to Airdrie) and I would see how long it would take them to call me.... i always ended up giving in and calling them. They never asked about my life, who i was hanging out with, what i was doing. I missed my sister and brother but because they were so much younger than me, they didn't even drive yet. I remember one Christmas Eve I had to work and then was going to go out to Airdrie for the holidays. My car had broken down so my step - mom had said that she would come pick me up. I was waiting outside the store for her to come get me, and after about an hour and a half, I realized she wasn't coming. I had to walk up to a gas station to call because by this time, everyone else at work had left to be with their families. She had forgotten all about me and everyone at home had been drinking so noone could come get me. I had to take a cab back to my basement suite on Christmas Eve and stay there all by myself because noone remembered to come get me. I had always felt like they didnt love me, but this was probably the lowest point for me. I walked to McDonald's and the beer store and celebrated Christmas Eve alone. Someone picked me up the next morning, but honestly, I cant remember who it was. I just remember feeling unloved and unwanted. 


I pulled away even more from my family after that. If they didn't even remember me at Christmas, what was the point of making any effort? I always made sure I called my Nana once a week and kept her updated on what was going on with me so that she didn't worry. She had a bad habit of worrying about me and i didnt like it when she did. I mentioned previously that when I was 19, I had moved out for the 2nd time. The first time was when i was 17 and it wasn't voluntary. I was told to get out after I was caught skipping by my Dad. I wasn't a bad kid, really. Sure, I had a snotty attitude, thought I was smarter than the adults, but what teenager isn't like that? (including my own 13 year old daughter.... I can often hear my Dads voice saying to me..... "its payback time!") I never drank, smoked, did drugs, snuck out.. NOTHING! Just had a smart mouth, and skipped school once. I came home from school that day and there was my Dad at the front door with that look on his face.... the one that made my stomach feel sick and the hair on the back of my neck stand up...He told me to get my stuff packed and get the hell out (and not really in those words)..... I thought he was kidding so i ignored him and went to my room.... only to have my step - mom come down to my room when she got home from work with garbage bags in her hands, standing there watching while i packed all my belongings into them. As I was packing I started feeling like a weight was being lifted off my shoulders even though i had no idea where i was going to go. I ended up walking to a friends house and her parents let me stay there for awhile. Which brings me back to why I dont like to let my Nana worry...... because once she found out that I had "moved out", which is what "they" told her, she got so worried, that a blood vessel burst in her head from anxiety and I felt responsible for that so I always made sure i kept in touch with her. 


All this happened in my Grade 11 year. I lived at my friend's house for about a month but when her parents grew tired of a 3rd teenage girl in the house, (they already had 2 of their own) they kindly asked me to leave. I was so ashamed and again felt like I wasnt wanted. I packed only what i could fit into a suitcase and off i went. I had a part time job at that time so i was making a bit of money when i wasn't at school. One of the older girls that I worked with, offered to let me stay at her place. She was a year or 2 older than me and I looked up to her because she was so pretty and thin and before she had graduated, she had been in the "popular crowd." I finally felt important. I also had a boyfriend during this time. I think he was another reason my Dad was so mad at me all the time... Dad didnt like him one bit... Im not sure why.... maybe because he was my first boyfriend, maybe he saw something in him that I didn't.... who knows. After a couple weeks, I felt really uncomfortable where i was staying.... the girl who I looked up to had some scary friends... Or maybe they just seemed scary to me because i was so naive? They were always drinking, they were loud, obnoxious and would sometimes come into my room to bug me. They never did anything to me but I always wondered if they would have if i hadnt moved out so quickly. I liked living there because it was close to my brother and sister's school and so I could go visit them at the daycare when they were done school because I wasnt allowed to go home and see them. Then "they" found out I was going to see them, so they told the daycare lady not to let me in if I came by again. I felt lower than ever. My brother and sister were the only things really keeping me happy and feeling loved. Now I didn't even have them.


For about a month, I really had no place to go. Every morning I would wake up at someones house and not know where i was going to sleep that night. I really felt like I couldn't go back "home" because no one wanted me. I sometimes wonder now, what would have happened if I had just called and asked to come back home. This is about the time I got to know Shona. (Remember her from last time? I moved out with her into an apartment when I was 19) Her and I had got to talking one day when we both had a spare and i opened up to her and told her what was going on in my life at that time. She said I could stay at her house anytime, and, in fact... I could stay there tonight if i wanted to. Just have Chris (my bf at the time) bring me over after 8pm because thats when her parents went to bed. HUH?! So for a week, i was living at her parents house and they had no idea... Or did they? Her parents went to bed really early because they got up at 5am to go to work every day. Once they were in bed, they never got back up until morning, and had no reason to check in on Shona before they went to work so they never even knew i was there. After a week of literally climbing in thru Shona's bedroom window, her parents invited me over for dinner. They told me that as long as I was going to school, they would give me a roof over my head, and would treat me like one of their own.. and they also said that from now on, I could use the front door instead of Shona's bedroom window!! LOL


Too be continued.....

Getting to Know Me

Let me start out by introducing myself!! I'm Susie... I'm 40, a fitness trainer and...... I am overweight. 


Yep, that last one was hard to say. I mean, really....its not a secret... but its like any other "disease"..... sometimes I can be in denial. I haven't always been overweight. No, not at all! In fact, growing up, I was always thin... I'm talking "collar bones sticking out" thin. Family would always ask if I had a hollow leg cause i had such a healthy appetite, and that must have been where i was stashing it all. I was always active, I kept myself busy riding my bike all over the place. My Step-Mom put me in jazz dance... not my first choice but my little sister was in it so it was easier to car pool that way. I actually think my little brother was in it too, but lets just say he wasn't for arguments sake, since I always seem to tell the embarrassing stories about him (or so he says) and Id hate to add yet another one to that list. ;) No wait, im wrong! He just used my sisters Garfield dance outfit as a Halloween costume.. Ok phewf! No embarrassing story there! 


Anyways, i wanted to try out for the basketball team in high school but my Dad said i was too short so I stood at the gymnasium door and watched the try-outs instead. To be honest, I was pretty shy and self conscious growing up, so to have anyone rate my abilities was a pretty scary thought and it stopped me from trying alot of things i wanted to try. What could I do in high school that didn't involve try outs?.... Cheer leading! Yep!! I was a cheerleader!! Cant say I was the prettiest one that ever was, and I'm pretty sure the guys basketball team made reference to that a time or 2, so the following year, I was invited back but declined. 1 year of torture and  humiliation was enough for me! 


Over the years (teenage years), i grew up with comments from a family member like.... "if women knew what they looked like from the back, they wouldn't wear half the things that they wore" or  "do you really think you need a cookie?" Its funny how certain comments stick with you thru the years... As i got older (into my 20's) and started putting on weight, i got "you have such a pretty face, its too bad your not thinner!" Gotta love that one! But ok, im getting ahead of myself here! 


My Dad was a very controlling, strict Dad. He always knew how many cookies were in the bag, how many pieces of black forest ham was in the package and how many cans of won ton soup there was in the pantry. He could tell if one of us kids had walked in the living room ( a room which we weren't allowed to go into unless they had guests over). My step - mom could tell just by walking in a room if we had actually dusted it "properly" by placing 2 of her fingers together and brushing them over any surface, of course, always coming up with a bit of dust and putting it in front of our face saying..... "dusted, did ya?" There was alot of pressure for perfection growing up. I am alot older than my sister and brother, (9 years older than my sister and 12 years older than my brother) so my main role growing up was to keep them quiet. Kids should be seen but not heard, don't ya know? I'm sure your thinking.....what does all this have to do with being overweight? Let me explain......


When i moved out for good when I was 19. ( i first left the house when i was 17 but that's a whole other entry in itself) I moved into a 2 bedroom apartment with a girl friend who I will call Shona.(because that was her name! lol) Because I had always been monitored with the things that i ate, once I lived on my own, it all went to shit! (good thing Dad never found the nacho chips and cheese I hid under my bed... Oh wait, who am I kidding... he always found out everything!) No-one was going to tell me how much or how many of something I could or couldn't eat! Of course, im only 19 and never really learned how to cook so it was pizza pops and Kraft Dinner all the way, and i loved every minute of it... And don't forget the oreo cookies i was never allowed to have. Ate the whole damn bag once! Screw You, Dad!! And then of course, there was the drinking..... I lived in Alberta where the legal drinking age was 18 but because i didn't want my Dad to find out, (remember, he always finds out everything), i never drank until I was 19! And then, I DRANK!! And drank, and drank! And of course, with the drinking, came the 2am smokies and/or souvlaki on a stick they sold outside the bar! Couldn't get enough of those! You get where this is headed, right? All of a sudden, I am FAT!! 


Now really, once i was 21, i wasn't really "FAT"..... but compared to all my friends, I was. They were the ones that played all the sports in school, always had boyfriends, and of course, were prettier than me. They were the ones that all the guys talked to at the bar, and I was the one that every guy wanted as their friend! Gee, great!! And then there was my sister... She was the thin, pretty one and i was the smart one... when you call someone the smart one, its not always a compliment. (FYI!)




To be continued...........