Sunday, August 10, 2014

Under Pressure

I've had a rough few days.
Tell me again that I won't pose in a burlap sack...
Real life, not Second Life. Second Life is... simply perfect in so many wonderful ways.

And, honestly, real life isn't bad. I just have some worries... and those worries are leading to anxiety. Like, the kind of anxiety where your heart races and nothing you do will slow it down and it almost hurts.
You all know my brother has cancer. We had a scary few days after his first chemo treatment. He got very, very sick and was in the hospital for a few days. His white blood cell count was almost non-existent and he was so dehydrated his kidneys were shutting down.
But, he recovered from that. He's home and he's fine. WBC count is back to normal. His color is good. His hair was all falling out so he went ahead and got it shaved off... and his big bushy beard, too.

FYI... Great Clips does this for free. Corporate policy, it seems. And they made it a fun experience for him. I know it's not the swankiest place around, but remember that they do something very good for very deserving people. :-)
Anyway, my brother actually looks twenty years younger now. He's in good spirits and has his 2nd chemo this week. They're adjusting the doses and will keep a closer eye on him so he doesn't get so sick this time.

It's my dad that I'm worried about.
I got a call at work from him on Friday... right around lunchtime. He asked me to come over after work to take him to an immediate care center because he was having trouble breathing.

WHAT?! How about we don't wait and call 911 RIGHT THE FUCK NOW?!
He insisted it was just a panic attack. JUST a panic attack. I had my sister in law, the nurse, call and talk to him. You see, his doctor had given him some Xanax for this very reason... but he wouldn't take it.

I fussed at him.
And I hated doing it.

Because, you see, my father at age 85 has become a child again and I hate it. It was bound to happen... if we're lucky enough to have our folks live a long time, it's gonna happen.
He's a worrier by nature (sound familiar?) and he's not taking all this very well. And he feels very helpless. I do not like to see my father cry. It makes me feel very helpless.
He's worrying about everything... and I do mean everything. He's worried if he oversleeps. The man gets up at 4:45am to take his dog out and he's afraid he's going to oversleep and the dog will need to go pee. Mind you... the dog is sleeping. The dog doesn't need, or want, to go out. He wants to keep sleeping. My father has to wake him up to go outside.
He's worried because sometimes he doesn't feel like taking the dog for a walk a bit later... You see, they have a routine. First thing, he takes the dog out to pee. Then a bit later, they go for a walk. And after that? They go to the dog park. I tried to tell him that routines can be adjusted... that he doesn't need to take the dog out until the dog is whining at the door, which he will do when he has to go. And that he doesn't need a walk when they're already going to the dog park where the dog will run himself silly until he sleeps the rest of the day.
But that's my dad, the worrier. And he worries until he makes himself sick.

Life is strange... it just is. Think about it. My dad is very much like he was six years ago just after my mother died. He was able to snap out of it then. I'm not so sure he's going to be able to this time.
Six years...

Think about how much a human changes in six years... when we're born, until the time we're six years old. So much changes... we do so much growing in what is really a relatively short period of time.
We reach adulthood and nothing changes very fast for years and years and years. Our bodies and minds mature... and we stay in that mature state for decades.

And then we reach a point where things start changing rapidly again. But in reserve. And it's hell to watch.
My father's mind is still as sharp as it ever was... he hasn't lost a thing there. His body is a different story. It's breaking down. He was never a tall man, but now... he's tiny. His skin is bruised (he was always a klutz) from the blood thinner he has to take.
And while his mind is still sharp as a tack... emotionally, he's reverting to a child-like state. He just can't deal with life's normal ups and downs.
And it's tearing me up inside. He's worried about everything, and I'm worried about him. I never wanted to be a parent. I made the decision that the only children I'd have are furry ones. But I have no choice. I have to be the parent now. And neither of us like it very much.
So my father's panic attacks are giving me panic attacks. Since Friday, I've had several instances of gut-wrenching, gasping fear. The kind where my heart is beating out of my chest and it hurts. Where I can't catch my breath.
I fussed at Dad for not taking his Xanax. Maybe I need to heed my own advice and go see my own doctor.
Life, for all its wonder and beauty, is very hard sometimes.

"Under Pressure"

Pressure pushing down on me
Pressing down on you, no man ask for
Under pressure that burns a building down
Splits a family in two
Puts people on streets

It's the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming, "Let me out!"
Tomorrow gets me higher
Pressure on people - people on streets

Chippin' around, kick my brains 'round the floor
These are the days - it never rains but it pours
People on streets - people on streets

It's the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming, "Let me out!"
Tomorrow gets me higher, higher, higher...
Pressure on people - people on streets

Turned away from it all like a blind man
Sat on a fence but it don't work
Keep coming up with love but it's so slashed and torn
Why, why, why?


Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking
Can't we give ourselves one more chance?
Why can't we give love that one more chance?
Why can't we give love, give love, give love, give love, give love, give love, give love, give love?..

'Cause love's such an old-fashioned word
And love dares you to care for
The people on the edge of the night
And love dares you to change our way of
Caring about ourselves
This is our last dance
This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under pressure
Under pressure



  1. Ya know, I haven't to say that it's a bit discordant with boobie pics separating out serious subject matter such as this, but I can't really bring myself to say anything against it because well... boobs make everything better.

    Ahem, that said... glad to hear that your brother is doing better after the scare, and I'm thinking positive thoughts for your whole family. *hugs!*

  2. BTW, I meant to add... the pictures are gorgeous, and not just saying that because of the tits. Very well done Beth, it's always a pleasure to see your work. (Again, I don't exclusively mean your tits.)

    1. Thank you... I'm very aware that most people look at my blog for the tits, and a few for the words. The photos are for most folks... the words are to get them out of my system.

      Wish I knew who you were, Anonymous...


Recent Posts