And The Walls Came Crumbling Down

My husband has advance stage liver cancer.  What am I going to do??

Teenage Boys Are Just.....Aaacckkkk!!!!!!!

Watch This Video!!!

I'm ready to pull my hair out already with this child....er.....young man.

The Key To A Healthier You Is................

BIOHACKING

Worked For Me and It Might Work For You.....

Here is what you have to do to lose weight:
Get the app, My Fitness Pal. Set a goal weight for yourself and the app will tell you your caloric content for the day, including how many carbs, sugars, protein etc. Measure, measure, measure. Portion everything and log everything in the app. Sounds monotonous, but it will become habit. Instead of regular yogurt, switch to greek. It has a higher protein content. Oh, PROTEIN IS THE KEY TO WEIGHTLOSS!!. Try to maintain at least 60 grams of protein daily. You don't really have to give up anything, just portion, portion, portion(even pasta). Get rid of the junk food in the house, ALL OF IT. Get those protein snacks you use to and protein granola bars. Cheese is a great snack because of the protein. Don't worry so much about fat content of anything. It's the protein and carbs you really need to pay attention to. Drink water. You can exercise if you wish. I usually just dance around the house and I mean dance. Think about it: A great rocking 5 minute song dance can really burn some calories. DO NOT eat past 8 pm. You don't need pills, drinks, or anything. The only possible drink is a protein shake, but ALWAYS READ LABELS before buying as many are still high in sugars and carbs. Try this and I guarantee you, you will lose weight the right way, slow and steady.

Excuse me?? I have what???

It started with an immediate CAT scan as they were awaiting blood test results.  The blood work showed something called an elevated CA-125.  They were awaiting CAT scan results.  No one would tell me anything until the gyn doc was told.  Not a blip, not anything.  My mind was in overdrive.  And it hurt to breathe...like literally.  I recall being admitted and wasn't going to be allowed to leave until the gyn doc made his rounds, which took FOREVER.  I waited, and waited.  I didn't want to stay overnight, just let me out of here.   But no, gyn doc had to see the chart and peruse the results before anything could be done.  Bastards!!  I had my mom and aunt on stand by to spring me out once I got the good(or bad) word.  At 11 pm, the good doc finally showed up.  He talked around the results almost as if avoiding saying what he thought.  I believe referral to another physician at another hospital was being put into play.  This part is all kind of fuzzy, but it's relayed to the best of my recollection.  I was finally sprung at almost midnight.  It still hurt to breathe or even move the upper part of my body.  Nothing was ever said about that.  All I know is I couldn't wait to get home.  And I thought I was going to be left alone.....bwahahahaha.  The first appointment was actually with radiology for a 'tapping' to get rid of the massive amount of fluid in my abdomen.  Much like a keg is tapped, so was I....some local anesthetic and a larger that life needle was inserted(with radiographic guidance) and I was tapped.  Filled about 4.5 quarts of a beer-looking substance.  Felt so much better afterwards, but the idea was tossed around for monthly tappings.  Oh joy.  Then Upon getting home after this, I was able to relax, sort of, so I decided to get onto the all wise Internet and look up an elevated CA-125.  That, I should not have done.  Turns out, CA-125 or cancer-antigen 125, is a tumor marker.....for ovarian cancer.  I recall not being told, at first, what my result was.  Then I recall, some one saying it was 1799.  Normal is 35 or less.  Not good.  Then I recall, quite quickly, getting into see that other doctor.  He was a gynecologic-oncologist.  The C word wasn't stated at this point...at all.  In retrospect, the local doc wouldn't say because I don't think he was sure.  I remember going down, not to an office, but to a hospital, which I thought was weird.  Like, why couldn't I got to his office.  I recall getting there on a Friday and was admitted(again, weird to me).  The time came and I got to meet the good doctor and a few of his fellow doctors.  They all looked at my results and recommended surgery ASAP to definitively see what they were dealing with.  I recall looking at my husband(who was trying to corral our then 2.5 year old son) saying but we wanted to have one more child.  They looked and stated that if we did, it would have to be IVF and it would have to work the very first try.  At this point, I looked at the doctor, absolving him from any repercussion in answering the question I was to ask him:  Do you think I have cancer?.  He shook his head yes and that if it were up to him, not to put off surgery.  My husband and I agreed.  It was scheduled for that Sunday.  Prep was to start the following day.  It was late in the evening before they were able to give me anything to eat.  It was a Friday during Lent.  I honestly think a nurse gave up her tuna sandwich so I could have something.  It almost felt like a Last Supper.  Things were never the same after that, nor will they ever be.

Life Back To Normal....Psych!!..........NOT

Life was just chugging along.  We were adjusting quite well to parenthood, the ups, downs going outside to 'water a tree' events etc.  It was, after all, life.  We always wanted more kids, but try as we did, it just wasn't in the cards.  There was one other positive test in 2005 and yet another heartbreaking early loss.  It was early 2007 and time for that women-love-everywhere yearly appointment and I described my frustrations to my doctor prior to my exam.  He said he'd discuss options afterward.  During the exam he felt something on or near my right ovary that he thought might be a cyst, which would account for the pain I would have mid-cycle during ovulation.  He sent me for an ultrasound a week or two later and it was discovered that it was a cyst.  He said I could either wait a cycle or two to see if it went away on it's own or try shots of Lupron to reduce it's size.  The only caveat to the drug is that it would put me in a chemically induced menopause.  Considering our difficulties, I opted for the shots.  I would get them once a month and then an ultrasound in a month or two afterward to check progress.  Shot one....not bad.  I hated the fact that it could only be administered in my rear-end.  The menopausal symptoms were not fun...normal....psychotic bitch....normal.  The fact that my belly seemed always bloated wasn't fun either, but I was indulging in anything and everything chocolate at the time.  Just before shot number 2, I was examined and had mentioned to the doc my belly bloating.  I looked, honestly, like I was pregnant which I knew I wasn't.  He said to me that muscle tone decreases with each pregnancy and that technically I had been through two.  I wasn't sure whether to agree, cry or kick him.  I was deciding that during the subsequent examination.  I noticed he had a rather puzzled look on his face as he stated he was having trouble 'feeling' what he should be feeling.  He mentioned that it could be gas but really didn't seem overtly concerned as the Lupron could have this type of effect.  Off for shot number two.  I forget how long after shot number two, whether it was days or weeks, but it was nearing March of that year and before I was going to get shot number 3, I demanded an ultrasound to see if this bastard of a cyst(my words, not his) has gone down any.  He agreed and I was scheduled, actually right away.  I recall going in and the male tech putting the cold gel stuff on and proceeding.  Then it got quiet......way too quiet.  He had asked why I was sent for this and I told him my story in a nutshell and that I wanted to see if the cyst shrunk any.  I even mentioned the fact that the doctor stated my belly size, which seemed to be getting bigger by the week, may have been gas.  I recall this so clearly as if it happened yesterday.  Whether or not the tech was supposed to tell me anything, hell it may have even been a physician doing the test...he turned the screen so I could see and pointed out all this black space.  He stated "see that black area?? You have a lot of it.  It's not gas, it's fluid".  His advice was to go to the desk and have me call my doctor ASAP and convey to him the news.  He was right there when I made the call.  At the time of that call, I had NO CLUE what was going to happen.  My gut was telling me it wasn't going to be good, but never in my life had I ever imagined what I would be told next.

A Beautiful Calm.......

After 2002, our lives got into a beautiful rhythm, ebbs.....flows.....LOTS of smiles in 2004 after the birth of our son.  Life was good.

The Year Our Family Broke.......For The First Time

As any woman, who has struggled getting pregnant, can say, when you get that next positive test, you're secretly ecstatic and cautiously optimistic.  It was 2002.  Now that I was more educated in how the whole pregnancy biology comes to be, we waited until the third blood test before saying anything so as to make sure levels were rising and pregnancy was progressing.  I remember it was the day before my dad's birthday, so for my parents we got a Happy Birthday Grandpa card.  Took him a while to 'get it', but the smile on his face when he realized what was happening was golden.  We then took a ride to my father in law's house to give him the good news.  The hug and kiss I received, I swear I can still feel it to this day.  The love that was there was enormous and unwavering.  WE went home and were just having a nice evening.  I think we were watching a movie when the phone rang.  It was my father in law asking for my husband.  I had made a joke(as I always would) and my father in law gave a very stifled laugh and then I handed the phone to my husband.  I looked at my husband who went from very joyful to horrifically somber.  He hung up the phone and looked at me and blurted out " my sister, J, is dead".  My head started to spin.  It was like a blur after that.  The whole mourning process took on a new meaning as her life was snuffed out, yet there was new life within me.  (I am in tears writing this as the song "The First Time Ever I saw Your Face" is playing.  This was the song that I loved throughout this pregnancy.)  Moving on.  As a family, our grief ever so slowly ebbed and we moved on.  All seemed to relish now, the new life within me.  I loved being pregnant.  The butterflies of  movement, the cravings.  NOT the sickness, never the sickness.  It came time for the 20 week scan and all was looking well.  We didn't want to know what we were having, just that the baby was developing well.  There was one point during that scan that the tech hit a sore spot new the top of my belly that she quickly moved away from.  It was mentioned to the doc who didn't seemed concerned, so I breathed a sigh of relief.  They wanted to schedule me for what was called a level II scan which was to be on the 27th of November.  So we scheduled it and went about our day.  It was just about a week later, my husband had returned from a hunting trip.  He asked how I was feeling and I was like great(hungry).  He was exhausted.  I went upstairs to bed.  It was around 5 am or so when I woke up and had to pee.  My underwear was wet and I had thought I had an accident so I changed did my business and went back to bed.  I got a little alarmed, however, when shortly thereafter, I felt wet again.  Getting a bit scared, I called my OB's office and the answering service doctor seemed awfully concerned when I mentioned that I seem to be peeing my pants.  She wanted me to get to the hospital ASAP.  Hurriedly, I awoke my thoroughly exhausted husband and told him he NEEDED to get me to the hospital, we may have a problem.  We got there and I started to cry stating "I'm not supposed to be here until I deliver".  The nurses tried to calm me but it wasn't working.  The litmus paper test confirmed that I was leaking amniotic fluid.  I was barely at 22 weeks, the cusp of viability according to my doctor.  I was transported to a hospital that had a more equipped neonatal unit in case I delivered.  That gave me hope.  Although my water leaked, it was regenerating at the same time and the baby was moving great and the heart rate was normal.  I was kept there almost a week, when it was decided to let me go home, on very strict bed rest and to return to the hospital upon my 24th week for monitoring or possible delivery(depending on the circumstances).  So, I set up camp in my living room, which was only a few feet from the bathroom.  I only got up to use the facilities. I talked to the baby, saying that they had to keep growing and stay put.  Things were calm.....but that was before the storm.  After only being home about 2 days, I had started to bleed, which I knew was not good.  Back to the hospital which again, led to transport to that other facility.  Upon getting there, examination determined that now there was no fluid around the baby and that this was not good and I should consider aborting.  I was like, I most certainly will not(or words to that effect).  Fluid was still regenerating but much more slowly.  Also, I was still bleeding a bit(it was determined afterward my placenta was beginning to detach or abrupt). This hospital would be my home until I delivered, even if that meant at 24 weeks or to term.  Small goals were set. Make it to 24 weeks and things are good, we take it week by week.  That was our first goal.....24 weeks.  It was a Saturday and I was nearing 23 weeks.  Again I had hope, but it was fading.....quickly.  I was taken for an ultrasound and my husband and I immediately wanted to know what we were having.  We wanted to get to know this child.  It was a girl.  We named her and began talking to her and getting to know her better.  I was now confined to bed, no bathroom trips for me.  But because I had much difficulty using the dreaded bed pan, I had a very close bedside commode.  I was constantly hooked up to the fetal monitor, where my daughter's heart rate sounded like wonderful galloping horses.  Then, early Tuesday, it got quiet, too quiet.  The doctor was called in to examine me and discovered that the cord had prolapsed into the birth canal....it did not have a pulse.  My daughter had died in utero.  May I add that all throughout this time, I was advised to abort and i always denied it stating I'm leaving it in God's hands.  If she were to be born she would be disabled, severely.  My husband and I always stated, if that were to happen, we would have a daughter.  We didn't care if she was going to be disabled.  God must have need a little angel though and it took us a while, a very LONG while to accept that.  Now I was given the task of having to deliver her, which was the most painful(not physically), gut wrenching, heart aching thing I've ever had to to.  They gave me drugs to assist in the labor process but they were slow to work as I guess my body wasn't ready to deliver.  I seemed to take FOREVER.  I recall crying to my mother that I was "going to be pregnant with a dead baby forever".  I couldn't eat or sleep.  They finally took the monitor off and shut the machine down.  It was late that same day, around 6:45 where I shouted at my husband I needed more pain meds(I regret so much that I was so rude to him) and as he went to get the nurse, I felt something drop in me.  The nurses came in and realized that the 'drop' I felt was my daughter in the birth canal.  The doctor came in and advised me to push.  I did and she assisted and within moments, our daughter was 'born'.  Dummy me asked the nurse if that was just the cord.  She quietly stated 'no honey, you delivered'.  I screamed and cried.  I later heard from my husband that the nurses and doctor were crying as well.  They took her and cleaned her as best they could and wrapped her like they would any newborn and brought her to us.  She looked perfect, to me. Ten fingers, 10 toes.  So tiny.  She had some physical "wounds' if you will from not have fluid and her little jaw looked dislocated(the nurse kindly and very gently put it in place).  I held her and my husband held her, though not for very long and both of us were beyond heartbroken.  THAT is the biggest regret I have, not holding her longer.  I told her I loved her and that I was so very sorry that I failed her.  Later that evening, a very nice priest came by and baptized her.  Then a beautiful oval painted box was presented to us.  We thought it was a coffin, of sorts.  But it was a beautiful memory box specially made for parents who lost a child.  It contained pictures taken of our daughter dressed in a pretty yellow doll dress, lovingly covered in a pink handmade blanket, posed as best they could so that we would have photos of our girl.  There were birth stats such as height and weight among other things.  Honestly, at that time, I wanted nothing to do with it at all.  The depression really sank in.  I still wouldn't eat, why should I, I wasn't pregnant anymore.  We didn't even reach the 24 weeks first goal...she was born at 23 weeks and 2 days.

The First of MANY Tests In Married Life

Okay, so I got married later in life(at 30) and stayed home until I did so.  I was never a mooch nor a sponge.  I gave my parents help(financially) whenever asked.  That being said, onto the first of what ends up being very many tests in my married life.  It was just 3 months after the wedding when I got those two beautiful lines....I was pregnant!!  I didn't realize how naive I was in the whole conception(biology) scheme of things.  We immediately made phones calls.  We were ecstatic.  I went for the blood work which confirmed that I was indeed pregnant.  For almost a week, we were on cloud nine.  Then, I started having pain.  Fairly new the the computer world, I looked up and realized it could be pregnancy related or it could be......worse.  It was the latter.  The look on my husband's face(of what I assumed was a massive disappointment in me) shattered me.  He had left for work and I simply waited.  I tried to hold out hope, but had started what looked like a period but felt so much worse(pain wise).  My sister and her husband came to take me to the ER, where my husband met me and an examination confirmed what I had already suspected.....I suffered a miscarriage.  I still didn't equate, in my head, that cells were just beginning to divide and an embryo forming.  In my mind, I lost a baby.  A day later, the doctor's office called to check on me and I cried to the nurse what happened.  She had mentioned the term 'chemical pregnancy' which I just did not compute.  Hearing how hysterical crying I was, the doctor got on the phone and explained that there was no actual baby, it was just in the beginning stages of development etc.  Like I said, at the age I was, I just didn't realize the whole concept.  I made myself well schooled in the science of 'reproduction', almost too much.  Instead of just 'trying' for subsequent babies, it became a series of timing, ovulation drugs and hope.  At one point, yes, it became 'work' and not so much 'fun', but my husband and I got creative in our journey towards parenthood.  That's what true love is....getting creative in your process rather than giving up. 

Bath Bomb Break!!!

 Bath Bombs

1/2 cup of Epsom Salts
30 drops of essential oils(Get them HERE)
4 oz Citric Acid
8 oz of baking soda
4 oz cornstarch
2 Tbsps liquid oil of choice
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 Tsps witch hazel

INSTRUCTIONS:

Mix dry ingredients in a large bowl until well combined.
In a separate smaller bowl, nix together the liquid ingredients until combined.
 Add liquid ingredients to dry and mix with hands.  Do wear gloves if you have sensitive skin.
 You'll know when mixture is ready if it holds together when squeezed.  If not, lightly spritz more water until it does, but not too much more water.

Quickly press mixture in silicone mold(I prefer silicone as they are easier to get out once hardened).

Store in air-tight container.

Use 1 or 2 in hot bath.

Recipe loosely based on Wellness Mama(my hero)

Another wedding???!!!

The year 2000 was the year of the weddings on our family.  My sister and his brother and one of his sisters.  Literally, when they heard of our engagement, is was like 'another wedding!!??'  We figured we'd give them a break and planned it for 2001.  Everyone was like, but that's an odd numbered year...bad luck...we were like no biggie, we're up for the challenge.  Not to mention the date we chose ended up being during Lent, which I guess in the olden days, it was a no-no to get married during that time, but I digress.  It was all it was meant to be...the calls, the orders, the payments....THE STRESS.  The best was when I went for my wedding dress.  It was me, my mom and her mom(my grandma Rose).  I tried on and tried on, each meeting with a courteous smile.  I was at a point where I wanted to stop, because trying on 50 pound dresses was so-o-o-o much fun and then it happened.  I told the girl assisting me this was the last one, I was tired, on my period and just wanted to bury my face in a vat of chocolate.  I came out and the girl put me in front of the mirror.  I had stopped trying to get my mom and grandma's attention.  I thought, hmm this has potential.  I turned around and there they were, mouths agape and my mom teary eyed.  That solidified it....I said yes to that dress!!

Party hangover ;)

So I get a call from the gentleman I met at the holiday party.  I was pleasantly surprised.  We chatted up a bit and then he asked me out.  I forget how long afterwards, but our first date was far from romantic.  We went over to his house, chatted some more over wine(or beer, can't recall).  He 'cooked' a frozen pizza in his convection/microwave(terrible idea).  But he did it and was so adorably shy at wanting to be a gentleman, it turned out to be the best date ever(I really mean that).  He was there, no filter, no machismo, just him and how he was and at that moment, I knew.  At the time, I wasn't really sure 'if' I knew, but I had a gut feeling.  Then after one week(or was it 2), he told me he loved me.  It wasn't the hearts and flowers TV/movie love, but real, salt of the earth, I'll always be here for you love.  Without hesitation, I blurted out that I loved him too.We got to know one another over the coming months.  There were ups and downs, but we recovered and persevered.  It was right.  One evening after work, I was waiting for him at his house.  Not feeling particularly well, I was sitting on the couch after he had gotten home.  He brought in this jelly bean filled glass(as it was almost Easter) stating that there was chocolate in it too(he knew I was a chocoholic).  I passed it up, not opening it for at least an hour.  We started watching a movie and again he mentioned about the chocolate.  I started to feel bad that I didn't open his thoughtful gift, so I tugged at the ribbon and was fishing around for a jellybean I liked. He stated again, about the chocolate and that maybe it was as the bottom and to dump it out on the coffee table.  So I did.........but there was no chocolate, only a dark red velvet box and I, for the first time, was speechless.  I opened it and there was a very genuine, simple and elegant ring.  At first he stood there with his hands in his pockets and matter of factly stated 'well, will you marry me?'  Of course I said yes and then he got down on one knee, placed the ring on my finger.  It had only been 4 months since we met, but I knew...that first night I met him I knew, ya know?!

Awe Ma, Do I have To Go??

It was an after the Holidays holiday party where my mom worked.  I was still living at home and was in a dating slump, if you will, and sulking.  Unbeknownst to me, my mother asked her boss if she could bring an additional guest(me).  That afternoon of the shindig, she tells me to get off my ass and start getting ready.  I was like "for what"?  She said you're going to the holiday party with your father and I, end of story.  My mom was never one you'd want to piss off, tiny physically disabled(though she never played that card, ever) Polish woman.  She broke a wooden spoon on my sister's butt once.....ONCE!!  I huffed off, grumbled all the while getting ready.  I don't even remember what I wore, a dress I think.  Threw myself together and off we went.  I have to admit it, once we got there and I relaxed, it wasn't too bad.  I knew most of the people my mom worked with so it wasn't like I was among strangers.  After dinner, when the dancing began, a young gentleman came over to talk to her.  He sort of looked familiar, but I just couldn't pinpoint where I knew him from.  They chatted a while and then he came over to me.  I was like, what the hell?? Was my mom playing matchmaker or something?  I looked over to her and she just winked.  I rolled my eyes and turned back to this young gentleman.  He introduced himself and then it hit me as to where I knew him from.  He was the son of a very well-known milkman in the area where we lived and had even delivered milk to our house.  We chatted for what seemed hours, had a few drinks...he even came to dance with my mom and I.  His awkwardness was incredibly sincere and adorable.  As the evening was coming to a close, a coworker of my mom's motioned(to me) to give him my number.  I didn't have a pen, so she handed me a brand new tube of lipstick.  It wrote incredibly clear on the square paper napkin.  I gave it to him and said to call me.  He walked me to our car(I drove with my parents), my mom and dad walking slowly behind us.  He told me 'thank you' and gave me the biggest hug I have ever received and he got into his truck and drove away.  Getting into our car, my mother had the biggest, shit-eating grin on her face.  I'm guessing, she thought "mission accomplished".  Little did I know...............

Is THIS Love??

I was 16 and needed a date for prom.  Actually, I really, really wanted to go and unfortunately, no one had asked me yet.  Still determined, I made up my mind to quit waiting for the question and ask it myself!!  After all, I was a strong and determined woman(though I didn't know it....yet).  I forget the actual day, but I remember being in a bowling alley parking lot hanging with friends.  A guy friend, from another school, was taking his girlfriend(who attended my school).  He was there with his friend, a guy I thought was cute who had this incredible head of curly hair.  I was like, okay, it's now or never.  Still being shy, I called my guy friend over and asked him to ask his friend if he would go to prom with me.  They took a walk inside the bowling alley.  It was the longest 10 minutes of my life.  Then, the doors opened and they walked out.  At that moment, the world stopped.....time stopped...I stopped...waiting for the answer.  His guy friend came over to me, smiled and said.....YES!!!!  Turns out he liked me, I kind of liked him.  So, not only did I end up with a prom date, I got a boyfriend.  We ended up together for 9 years, were engaged, he cheated on me, was planning a wedding with someone else at the same time we were planning ours etc.  To quote the late George Carlin "It was a Mongolian cluster fuck".  I was devastated, nearly killed myself, swore of men forever.  All this while, fate was working her wonderful hand and, though at the time I didn't know this, it ended up being a blessing in disguise.

My Very First WTF Moment......

Dealing with the pretty girls making fun of me(we all went to Catholic school) was hard enough and then this was thrown in the mix and I was like, WTF!!??  I remember I was 9 and my sister was 12.  We were always at my grandparent's house because they were our 'daycare'.  I think it was summer, though I can't be sure.  I just knew we were at grandma's house.  Like most women/girl's do, we shared bathroom trips.  I recall, before going in, telling my sister I had something funny looking on my underpants and I wasn't sure what it was.  It petrified me and I wanted to call my mom at work.  She grumpily pulled my into the bathroom to have a look.  She had a look see and said, you're getting your period.  I sort of knew what that was, but really wasn't absolute in my knowledge.  I just remember changing, asking my aunt for something called a pad and went about the rest of my day.  Next thing I remember, a package, rather long and boxy, came in for me.  It was a 'period kit' from a company called Stayfree.  Filled with small books on what a period was and what type of 'pads' there were and how to use them, my guess is that this was my mom's way of having 'the talk' without actually speaking to me.  All I know is every 28 days, this was going to happen, so I had to prepare myself.  I always had a calendar and would count, making sure around that 28th day, I started wearing those stinking pads so I wouldn't soil my underwear.  It felt so weird being in 5th grade and having to do this, praying to God no one would notice and hoping I didn't stink.  I started carrying a purse and even bringing my dirty pads home(gross, I know) so that no one would see.  None of my friends had theirs yet and at the age I was, I couldn't explain to them what was going on.  This was at a time as well, where they still had the protection you had to pin to your underwear and I HATED those with a passion.  Thankfully, technology was catching up and most were the adhesive type.  I was afraid to go to slumber parties when I had it, doubled up on underwear so it wouldn't shift and cause an accident(my mother didn't like when I accidentally had a leak) and became a recluse for 5 to 7 days every month.  That lasted until high school, where it still seemed an embarrassment when you were 'on the rag', but more friends were getting theirs and I had girls I could relate to, FINALLY. 

Where It All Started(from the beginning, of course; silly reader)

I was floating, I'd like to say free, but it was quite confined in there.  Water was all around me and there was a light down by my feet.  I was cozy and warm, albeit I was soaked to the bone, but edging ever so closely to the light.  Then, out of the light, emerged a gloved hand that hurriedly grabbed my feet and swung me around in my pool of goop.  I was dizzy, disoriented and I had just been disrupted in the only home I had known(bastard doctor).  I opened my eyes and the light blinded me.  I was cold, shivering and crying. The doctor handed me to this wonderful person he referred to as 'mom'.  The day was January 29, 1971.