Proof that exes can be fantastic friends.
We met December 28, 2007. This was May 29, 2009 and this is the first picture EVER of the two of us (at least our faces, LOL!). He has possibly the most hilarious facial expression EVER.
The most beautiful tattoo ever. I couldn't have thought of anything more beautiful to put on my body than this, and it was done by someone I love dearly which makes it that much better. I treasure it.
It's been a long month...Where do I begin??
I guess I should start with Cioci Denise. My Cioci Denise was an amazing, strong woman with whom I had so much in common. She was a hippie to the core, loved tye-dye and sweatpants, hated wearing a bra or shoes, was sarcastic and wonderful in every way. She worked with troubled kids for as long as I can remember, and most recently she worked for the City Food Bank. She was there when I was born. She was the youngest of 4 girls...Cioci Sharon, Cioci Carol, my Mom, then her. She was my favorite Aunt. For the unaware, Cioci is Polish for Aunt and is pronounced "chuh-chee".
She was diagnosed with Cancer of the vulva in 1995, and had one of the most radical surgeries I'd ever heard of at the time. Her Cancer horrified me. The surgery horrified me. But she seemed so incredibly well-adjusted afterward that I didn't worry about her. Being a grown woman now instead of a teenager, I can see how terrified she must have been of having a life-changing surgery like that. Very scary stuff. She went into remission for almost 10 years, and then had cancer in the glands in her mouth...then had some back pain and they found a mass in her lung. It was in her lung, spine, ribs, diaphram...it was everywhere. They broke her ribs at the spine, scraped off her spine and ribs, then put them back together, scraped off her diaphram, removed a lobe of her lung, and removed some lymph nodes--ALL IN ONE SURGERY. It was the second most radical surgery I'd ever heard of...they took care of everything at once. At the same time (this was in 2005), my Grandfather had surgery for an anyeurism and never woke up. Cioci Denise, fighting hard, was sitting up in her bed the day after her surgery. She was fine, but was re-diagnosed in 2006 with a liver tumor. When they went to remove it...they found one in her kidney. For this round of the battle with Cancer, she had 6 (YES, SIX!!) rounds of chemo and then radiation.
I should probably mention that life never slowed down for Cioci Denise. She worked as much as she could. She explored life. She traveled hither and yon. She was so creative!! She learned how to make glass art and glass jewlery, and our house is full of her work. When I worked at Verizon, she made me a necklace that looked like a telephone. (I should mention that she always made fun of me for being on the phone for hours at a stretch...so it fit!) The point is...she never stopped living life. EVER. She never let Cancer control her...she grabbed life by the horns and lived every single second to the fullest. How does someone DO that?? How do you not get caught up in saying "WTF!" and get out there and play Native American drums to the sunset with a bunch of Nuns and your 2 Sisters?? How do you spend time with your family and not be scared shitless every single day that you could possibly die? How do you continue to give to people who don't deserve it...how do you not be selfish and just CRY? I will never know how she did it, because I never asked...but somehow (it seemed) she was able to forget that it was there while living her life and still fighting like a pack of rabid pit bulls.
How do you battle little (or big) groups of malignant cells in your body...growing all over your body...for 14 years? And not go completely insane?
She went for a scan in the beginning of May, and her best friend Kim called my Mom. The tumors in her spine were back, and there was a huge mass in her kidney as well as tumors in her pelvis, lung and lymph nodes. She had the option to do chemo again, but the Doctors told her that the chemo only had a 20% chance of SLOWING the tumors. Surgery was just not an option...she was in no shape to be going through another radical surgery. She was being admitted to the hospital for pain control and she decided to go ahead and do the chemo. Kim told my Mom to get up there...she may live 2 weeks, she may live 3 months...but this is it. Mom and I rented a car and drove to Utica, NY. She was given chemo on Tuesday the 12th. We left on May 14th (Thursday), and got there on the 15th (Friday). My poor Mom...you must remember that she has terrible pain in her backside and up and down her legs almost constantly. The drive was not easy on her. But, being a former Pediatric Oncology Nurse, she knew that she had to get up there. The plan was for me to drive her up there, stay a few days, and drive home to go to CA. I would leave Mom up there until things got really bad and then I would come back up. It was supposed to be a matter of weeks/months. We packed ALL of my Mom's colostomy and catheder supplies, and made arrangements for paying bills. We went clothes shopping for the trip and Mom brought enough clothes to last her almost a month. I was thinking she'd be up there 2-3 months, and so did she. Things did not turn out that way. Read on, my lovelies...
We went straight to the hospital. Cioci Denise was thinner than I'd ever seen her. She was always a thick and tall lady...in fact, we have similar body types. Tall, curvy, and thick. To see her in a hospital bed looking SO thin was shocking. Her legs were swollen with edema, and her feet were huge. Her toes were turning blue. Her sarcasm was still there, but I could tell that she was a very sick lady. She explained that she might be going home on Monday, and would need a lot of adaptive equipment for the house, including a hospital bed. At that point, I was thinking that she would indeed be able to go home, even if it wasn't that Monday. Meanwhile, I was trying to acclimate myself to where I was. I hadn't even been to NY since 1996. I hadn't seen Cioci Denise since 2001. I hadn't seen Cioci Sharon, probably, since the last time I had been there, nor had I seen my Cousin Melissa (Cioci Denise's Daughter) or met her 2 boys--one of which is almost 13 years old. Same with Denise's "Husband" Tom...they had been separated since she was first diagnosed with Cancer and I was never close to him to begin with. I felt really bad for not having seen them, and did apologize for not being around much. I talked to Cioci Denise on the phone from time to time, but as a whole I don't tend to have a lot of contact with my Mom's side of the family. No particular reason, that's just the way it is. Anyway, we all had a nice dinner together at the hospital, Denise, Sharon, my Mom and I. Since everyone but Denise knew that she was going to die eventually, they were kinda just letting her have whatever she wanted to eat, diabetes be damned. Let the insulin handle it...let her have what she wanted. At least then, she'd eat. :-(
We went back on Saturday and she looked bad. Her legs were even more swollen then they were the day before. Her toes were more blue. She said she was in pain. She was in and out of sleep while we were there...LOTS of pain meds. We hung out, watched TV, joked around, etc. At this point, I was thinking she would never leave the hospital, but she still had weeks left to live. The month theory went right out the window. Anyway, when we went to leave, I was very careful when I was hugging her. My concern was the tumors in her spine. Since I had been there, anyone who had given her a hug was very gentle. So when I hugged her gently, I was quite surprised that she said to me, "No, I want a big hug.". I hugged her again, still gently, but squeezed a little harder and she squeezed me as hard as she could. I am so glad those were her last words to me. Mom and I left because she had a colostomy blowout. It wasn't bad, but it was a blowout. So we went home, and she had another one. She had been taking antibiotics for a sore on her leg and they totally fucked her stomach up. She was beyond upset, and I was doing total damage control on the whole thing. Besides the fact that her Sister was dying, she had to deal with the fact that she can't even fully help anymore. So I cleaned her up (I would like my Good Daughter Badge, please...) and we went to bed.
Sunday morning, Mom and I were awoken by a phone call from Cioci Sharon. The Doctors suspected Denise had contracted pneumonia overnight, and she was being moved to the Critical Care Unit. We were concerned, but we didn't know whether or not it was pneumonia so we went back to sleep. An hour later, someone else called and said that she did, in fact, have pneumonia. Mom and I hurried to the hospital, and what we saw was shocking. EVERYONE was there. Tom, Melissa, her Husband Jim, Kim, Sharon, my Mom and I. Cioci Denise had tubes everywhere, and an oxygen mask (which she hadn't had since I'd been there). Her O2 levels were in the 80's, so she was not very coherent. She struggled to breathe. The chemo she had been given less than a week prior had weakened her immune system to the point where she easily contracted pneumonia, and as we found out later, MRSA. Everyone was absolutely devestated seeing her this way. Someone would look at her for just a little too long and burst into tears. Unfortunately, there were decisions to be made because she hadn't signed a Do Not Resuscitate order before she came in, although that was her wish. Mom and Sharon had some time alone to think and cry and decide, and the DNR was in place. We all came back in the room and everyone was kinda standing in an arc around her bed. She said, "You guys are standing around like I'm on my deathbed." Nobody said anything. The Father from the Church she belonged to came and gave her the Annointment of the Sick (basically saying "you're cool with God...whenever you wanna die is fine) and we all just bawled silently and tried to straighten up before Denise opened her eyes. She was in terrible pain. The most wonderful Nurse I've ever met, Greg, came in and asked her if she wanted another breathing machine, one that would make it easier to breathe but harder for her to talk. She told him to "Do what you gotta do...for someone else.". She was very agitated, moving her tubing around and not able to get comfortable. He arranged for a morphine drip. God bless him. He was absolutely fantastic. He made sure she was in no pain. He kept us comfortable and informed. He brought us cookie trays and pots of coffee. He made it so that nobody had to call to get inside the CCU (CCU has locked doors and you have to call from an internal phone and someone will let you in)...he knew what all of us looked like and as soon as we were seen on the camera outside the CCU, the door opened. Greg, and every other Nurse and Doctor on that floor were fucking amazing. I can only hope that I can get that kind of Nurse if I ever need that kind of care. Anyway, they started the morphine drip. 5 minutes later, we asked her if she was in any pain. She said "No", and that was good enough for us. She was asleep soon thereafter.
Then, we sat vigil. The CCU staff turned off the monitors in the room so we weren't so focused on the numbers of it all. We had no idea what her blood pressure, oxygen level, heart rate, etc were for most of the day. It was good that way. While she slept, we sat around her bed, held her hands, and talked. Her best friend Kim was there, and told us a million stories of the fun things they did together. Funny things she said, stuff they did, places they went, foods they tried, etc. We all shared stories about her and about each other. It was absolutely wonderful. I thought to myself that if fate sees fit, that's how I'd like to die. With my family and my best friends with me. Sharing stories, laughing together, crying only because they'll miss me. She was asleep and unable to respond and share with us...but she heard us. Every word. Imagine what that must be like. You're in your final hours, unconcious but hearing everything around you. Your family and your friends are telling stories of your life...the best stories! Nothing is censored, nothing is off-limits unless it's going to hurt someone's feelings. What stories would be shared about me? Someone better put a muzzle on BFF Sarah, LOL! (Just kidding, I love you and I would want you there, telling my grown-ass kids about shenanigans we've pulled...)
Seriously, the hours dragged. Mom and I arrived at about 11am, and we never left the hospital. Kim got food for everyone, and we all stayed as comfortable as we could. I killed time by smoking lots of cigarettes outside, making phone calls, charging people's phones in my car, and helping out where I could. Mom only laid down a couple of times to try to get some sleep in the evening and to rest her butt (terrible pain ensued for a full week afterward...it was bad.). Mom, Sharon, Kim and I stayed ALL day and night. Melissa went home, and asked that we call her when the time came near so she would have enough time to get to the hospital. At 3:44am, I snapped a picture on my cell phone of my Mom holding Denise's hand. Denise isn't in the picture at all. Looking at it now, I can see the complete panic, exhaustion and sadness in my Mom's face. About 5 minutes after I took the picture, the automatic blood pressure cuff took her blood pressure and could not get a reading. I went to the Nurse's station and asked if someone could check the cuff...I was sure it had been moved somehow the last time they turned her on her side. The Nurse said her heart rate was in the 90's and her breaths were 20-21 per minute. So, I went back in the room and updated my Mom and Cioci Sharon (both holding her hands), and said I was going to lay down for a while. Not even 10 minutes later, Tom (who had been lurking for most of the day but not all of it) shook my leg and told me her heart rate had dropped and he was going to get Melissa. I ran in the room, and the monitors were all back on. Her heart rate was dropping fast. 68, 67, 66, 65, back up to 68, down to 59, then down, down, down. Cioci Sharon and Mom were holding her hands, I was rubbing her leg over the blanket, her best friend was at her feet. Mom told her, "When you see Mommy and Daddy, go to them.". I took a deep breath and put my head down to cry. Her heartrate went to 0 for just a few seconds, then jumped back up into the 30's and down again, number by number. I prayed Melissa would get there in time. The Nurse came in and said that it would be a matter of minutes. It was happening so fast. Down, down the numbers went. I watched the monitor, I watched her face, I watched her breathing. As the numbers got lower and lower, I focused on only watching her breathing. I watched as she breathed in, and knew it was her last breath. I looked at the monitor...her heartrate was 0 and she was gone. At approximately 4:25am on May 18th, 2009, Denise Marie Dombrowski Wolfe died. She was only 50 years old. She went out with grace, she was in absolutely no pain, and she fought up until the last second. We held her, we cried, we sobbed...we didn't want to let go or leave that room. Melissa ran in just a few minutes later, and completely broke down. It was absolutely the most heartbreaking thing I've ever seen. I regret that I couldn't be of more help to Melissa during the day, but the fact is that every time I saw her crying I would burst out into tears myself, thinking about what it's going to be like to have to let my Mom go someday. We got home, went to sleep, and I tried to wrap my head around what I had just seen and what had just happened.
I had never seen someone die before. I have to say that when a friend of a friend's Dad died a while ago, he wrote the most beautiful blog ever and described the whole process from beginning to end. I looked it up and read it again before we left for NY (just in case...), and it ended up being the best thing I could have done. I remembered how he wrote about Terminal Agitation (Cioci Denise fiddling with her tubes and not being able to get comfortable), and I was able to recognize it when it happened. I took a few tips about pictures and how to keep yourself from falling apart. Not everyone dies the same, but the mechanics stay pretty consistant, at least in this case. That blog helped me TREMENDOUSLY.
The next couple of days are a blur. Things needed to be done. And since I wasn't her Sister, Daughter, or best friend (only a lowly Niece)...I took it upon myself to make sure everyone was comforted, fed, and that phone calls were being made. Sober was not an option...if I had been sober I would have been an absolute disaster. I kept myself happy and motivated enough to do what I needed to do for my family (Melissa and I found her Mom's pot, LOL!). I do not deal with stress well, and this was no exception. I stayed out of Cioci Sharon's way...she has a peculiar way of dealing with stress and it involves lashing out at anything or anyone that crosses her. I have never heard a Nun use the Lord's name in vain so many times! As for me...between the stress of driving and trying to help everyone else, the shock of her dying so soon, the heartbreak of Justin meeting someone else (I'll get to that later), and the expense of rescheduling my trip to CA, I was in over my head. I was seriously feeling like I was gonna lose my mind, and I'm so glad I didn't/haven't.
Now, about funerals. I have never really identified with the Catholic Church. I have my own concept of God, and it works for me. My Mom's side of the family are all Catholic. Cioci Sharon is a Nun. Things are different with Catholics...they just LOVE to have ceremonies and draw out the pain of a death. We had a 4 hour long Wake for her...and of course we had to stay the whole time. We had a Catholic Mass Funeral...and of course I have no knowledge of any of the hymns or what to say when. I can't accept communion, so I couldn't even go through the motions. I kneeled when I was told, stood, sat, etc. I didn't cross myself, and my Mom asked me why (as if she didn't know I'm not Catholic!). I did a reading, and didn't bow at the altar (I didn't know I was supposed to!!) much to the chagrin of the gaggle of Nuns that had come from all over the place for the funeral and to support Cioci Sharon. Long story short...I'm not down for organized religion, and when I die I want a simple funeral with no Jesus involved and no long, drawn out agony for the people who love me. 1 day is enough, people. It wasn't even over with the funeral, but I'll get to that later. Damn Catholics, LOL!
So...I had a trip to CA planned that I had to move due to Cioci Denise's death. My main purpose for going was to see Justin's play. Luckily, it played for 2 weekends so I was able to go the next week. I drove home to Florence the 27-28th, spent a day in the house alone (Mom still in NY), and flew to CA the morning of the 29th (Maggie's birthday).
I should explain the Justin situation before I go any further. Justin met a girl, and let me tell you I was a MESS. He told me about it a few days after Cioci Denise died, and I was a disaster. (Let me just say that he was aware she died, but he was unaware that I *watched* her die and that she was my favorite Aunt.) I was feeling lousy about myself...he was talking about getting out of his situation (those of you who have followed my past blogs know what I'm talking about). A million emotions ran through me, most of which involved feeling like a complete idiot for leaving CA and even more of an idiot for falling in love with someone who could possibly NEVER be completely emotionally available to me. Livid was the word, too. I tried to hold my head up high and get over it, but I was in a lot of pain. The day I was in KY before I left, he wrote some Facebook status about how she reminded him how much he loved "RENT" and how he now identified with Roger and may have found his Mimi...and I went apeshit. I had always compared our relationship to Roger and Mimi. He, the one who was telling me to go away because he knew he could never be mine, and me coming into his life again and again, enchanting him and helping him have fun again. I thought of myself as the one who helped him feel alive again. Literally hyperventilating and sobbing, I emailed him to let him know that he hurt me and asked him if he thought I should come because I had been getting the feeling he didn't care if I came or not. I called Expedia to see how much money I would lose if I cancelled my reservation. I got off the phone and tried to calm down enough to think logically, when he emailed me again (this is 2-3 emails later between the two of us) and told me that he wanted me to come. I was convinced that I may as well commit emotional suicide...this was going to HURT big time and I didn't really feel like watching the man I love flirt with someone else (even if he didn't mean to). But, as I am a co-dependent idiot, I decided to go. The fact is...he moved on. I moved to KY, and he moved on. He may have never been able to commit to me, and he may have never WANTED to. So I needed to get over that shit. But, although I was working on the whole "falling out of love" thing, I wasn't quite ready for him to move on and I was DEFINITELY not in a place to hear about it. EVERYONE told me to cancel the trip. I didn't listen, though. And in the end...I'm actually really glad I went.
I flew in on the morning of the 29th, and Kidd picked me up from the Airport. Kidd and I are perfect examples of how exes can be friends. We went for breakfast, and had a great time. We will ALWAYS be friends...we love each other deeply but in a relationship, it's just no good. I went to Dad's and hung out for a while, and then headed down to see Justin's play. While I was getting ready, all I could think of was how I had to look HOT and make him regret that he ever moved on. As the day went on, though, I realized that I was going to see his play. This was his moment, after 7 years of not acting. He was my friend, I loved him, and I was there to support him. We weren't going to hook up while I was there...this was purely friendly. So I changed my attitude around and decided that I was going to have fun no matter what. I really enjoyed the play...I was (and still am!) so proud of him for taking that step. I encouraged him to audition, and there he was on-stage singing and dancing!!! We met up afterwards and a few of us (Justin, his friend from the play and her friend) went out for drinks. As we were walking into the place, Justin's friend suggested that he call the new girl so she could come down. I panicked a little, but knew I was stuck (Justin drove me) and I would have to make the best of it. Of course, Justin and this girl hadn't shared more than a hug. Let's just say she had more self-restraint and self-respect than I did when I met him. ;-) So I wasn't worried about them making out in front of me or making me uncomfortable. To be honest...I liked her. She was quiet, and I was scared shitless of saying the wrong thing or making some comment that insinuated that Justin and I had EVER been together...but I didn't. I will not sabotage him or his happiness ever again, like I have in the past. I had 3 drinks and was pretty buzzed (I NEVER drink, so this was major, LOL!), so I came off as typical Jen. Loud, funny, a bit shy, and singing and dancing at random. I had a great time...we all did! I really like Justin's friend from the play (whom I was convinced I would hate because she's "replacing" me), her friend whom I had just met, and even the new girl whom I was convinced I would hate because *she's* "replacing" me. Justin and I talked a lot both at the table while the others weren't listening and in the car on the way home...and we just want to be friends. I love having him in my life, I really do! He's an amazing friend and an amazing person. I feel like I know him inside and out, and I feel like I've told him enough about my life and my past so that he knows me. I can't just let that friendship go away. Don't get me wrong...I love him and I always will. He said the same about me. But for now...we're better off as friends. If fate should see fit to bring us together, it will happen. As of today, I am easily (but slowly and sometimes painfully) falling out of love with him so that we can be friends.
Blahbity blahbity blah...the Saturday after the play was boring. :-) Sunday, though, was awesome!!!! Elise and Lenny picked me up, we drove to Reseda so Elise and I could have yummy sushi, and Elise drew and then tattooed the most beautiful tattoo EVER on me!! My tattoo is the most amazing thing ever. And the fact that it was done by Elise just makes it 1000000 times better. It's gorgeous...I'll let it speak for itself in the picture above. I can't wait to get it colored!!!! She's such a good friend to me, even when I'm crazy. I swear...I never thought that something drawn on my body could mean so much to me. I had fluctuated between getting a small tattoo on the nape of my neck or some cherry blossoms on my calf. When I saw that she had just done cherry blossoms on someone else's leg, I decided on a lotus. BFF Sarah suggested a bird. I told Elise I wanted a swallow or hummingbird drinking out of a lotus, and she said that she had seen a tattoo kinda like that...except the hummingbird had a long, phoenix-like tail. When she showed me the picture, I totally fell in love with it and knew it was perfect. She drew it up, and I now have a massive, beautiful tattoo. It hurt like a bitch, way more than my piddly little ankle tattoo! I dread the pain of getting it colored in, but I know it will be spectacular so it will be totally worth it. Mom doesn't want to see it, LOL! But I know that when she does see it, she'll think it's beautiful too. Fortunately she's not computer-savvy and will never know that my tattoo was done on Elise's couch, LOL! As a former Nurse (someone who loves to lecture on bloodborne pathogens) she would find that a less than stellar life choice even though everything was cleaner than clean. She's just old school...I'll let her stay that way. ;-)
Elise dropped me off at the airport on Monday the 1st and I flew back to KY. I did exactly what I set out to do on that trip, which was to relax and have fun. Things couldn't have gone better between Justin and I (considering the circumstances) and my Dad and I didn't argue once. There were a lot of people that I didn't get to see, and I feel really bad. It was such a short visit, and I promise the next one will be longer. It's nice to know that there are people in CA who really love me and want to see me. Anyhoo, I got home and called Mom, and she said she wanted to stay for another week after I got there. I flipped...I really didn't feel there was any way I could handle being gone from home for another week. Too much had happened, I was tired and had been either completely stressed or traveling for the past 2 weeks. I worked my ass off trying to put things together at home on Tuesday morning/afternoon, then headed to BFF Sarah's to unwind and finish my first knitting project. Arg, I just realized I forgot to put up a picture!! :-( Unfortunately, I don't have the hang of Blogger yet and I'm not sure how to add a picture to the bottom of the stack on top or how to put them in the middle...so you're just gonna have to take my word for it. I finished the damn hat!!! LOL! I'm super, super proud of myself. I can't wait to start making something else.
I left for Utica again on Wednesday, in a new rental car. I got to see my Brother Mike (he wasn't able to make it to the funeral) and my Nieces (I can't tell you how bad I needed those hugs...) because they took me to get the car, so I was kinda re-energized by that. I got to Utica on Thursday. As an update on the Justin saga, he moved out of his place on Thursday and into a new apartment on his own. I cursed myself for being out of CA (for several reasons) but I am SO much more than happy for him and I'm over it now. Friday was Cioci Denise's burial. Remember the thing about Catholics and drawing out pain?? Okay, just checking. Enough with the pain, folks. Mom, Melissa and I all wore tie-dye to the burial. Cioci Denise would have loved it. BTW, the reason the burial was a week after the funeral is because she was cremated. The rest of my time in Utica was spent taking care of Mom, eating the best Polish food and Italian pastries Central NY has to offer and spending time with my family. It was nice. It wasn't so bad that I ended up having to stay another week. Mom and I left NY again yesterday, and arrived this evening FINALLY. It's soooooo good to be home. I get to relax! It hasn't even really hit me yet that I don't have to travel anywhere for a while. I'm going to the lake with BFF Sarah and her parents on Monday and Tuesday, and then I'm done. Relaxation! OMG! I get to sleep in my bed! YAY!!!
I guess that's all for now. Anyone who reads all of this better leave a fucking comment because I've been writing this since 10:00 last night and it's now almost 3am. :-)
