I know… I hate writing downer blogs and I get pissed at myself when I do. But this time I have a damned good reason for it…

And, unfortunately, I’m going to be one of those annoying people, the kind I’d see posting shit on Facebook and roll my eyes when I’d see them asking for prayers about things. Okay, to be fair, some of them were so fucking ridiculous, they’d make a post about getting a wart removed and ask for prayers… It’s a fucking wart; get over it. I hate those attention seeking ass fucks. But, here I am, doing what I hated most about the attention seeking ass fucks, in a way, anyway… But there’s a difference, which you’ll understand if you get to the end.

Now, I won’t be asking you for prayers, dear readers… Why the hell would I do that?! I’m an atheist; I think prayer is useless and meaningless. But, when you get to that part of this entry where I explain everything, if it makes you feel better to say a prayer or dance around naked under the full moon or whatever it is you do, I won’t tell you not to. My beliefs are my own just as yours are your own. I’m cool with that.

However, I have to ask a favor of you, dear readers… Please send some good vibes my way. Like a lot of them. Right now I need a lot of strength and positivity to keep my shit together so I don’t completely lose it, which is something I’ve been doing quite a bit the last few days. I’ve been fine one minute and just randomly falling all to pieces the next. So… please send all good vibes c/o Jackie to this blog, okay? Trust me, when I get to that part, you’ll totally understand why…

I actually wanted to write an entry before this, but I had some tests that needed to be run the week before last and wanted to wait until I got the results.

So, if you’ve been reading my mindless drivel, I’m sure I’ve mentioned having rib pain for some months, now, and that I had to go get my big ol’ stripper titties smashed to the size of a fluffy buttermilk pancake (it still amazes me they can do that) and an MRI of my upper spine as they can’t MRI ribs due to the curvature. So I went for my fun tests (yay?) and got the results early last week. My mammogram was fine, which I wasn’t concerned about. There’s no family history of breast cancer. The MRI had a very minor abnormality, however… It seems that almost all the discs in the T vertebrae were protruding slightly, which is when I had an epiphany. It’s my fucking boobs! Not that I wasn’t aware… I’ve had upper back pain since high school and I can’t even stand for ten minutes to wash dishes without excruciating upper back pain. No bra in the world has ever helped. They’re just so fucking big and heavy that now they’re causing disc issues and I’m fairly certain that explains the rib pain. They’re probably pulling on things like skin and muscle. Whoopee…

So after speaking to the GP about my suspicions on this, she suggested I call a breast surgeon. I Googled the ones in my area, found the best rated and called to make an appointment. I just want a consult, but the woman I spoke to seemed so sure I would want a reduction done. Whoa! Hold up there, slick! I’m not sure I want to mutilate my girls! Plus I’d miss them, honestly… And unless he’s going to help me get rid of the belly fat I gained (again, thanks Cymbalta), you’re not taking shit out of my tits. I refuse to have my gut be bigger than my boobs. No way, man…

Wednesday started some stress for me. I had to puppy sit for my sister while she was away at a medical conference for three days. Sounds easy enough, right? Well… it was for the most part, actually… The downside is that my sister moved a few years back and it’s about a half hour drive on one of the most congested, crazy, accident ridden highways in the world. And I had to drive on that fucking thing! That’s not anxiety inducing. Nope… Actually, it wasn’t as horrible as I thought. It was a bit intimidating the first day because I literally avoid that road at all cost and will travel extra long just to avoid that fucking highway. But the highway was the easiest, most direct route and I get lost easy, so… Honestly, the worst part was coming home, which took 50 minutes because of gridlock.

However, it wasn’t all pleasant… My first day, Abby, the little barrel dog who goes out without a leash all the time, decided to crawl under the back deck and not come out… in 90 degree heat! I spent about two fucking hours trying everything I could to get that fat little fucker out from under the deck! I was so dirty and sweaty…

And Shadow, the cat… This was how she glared at me the entire time after Abby went AWOL under the deck. Look at her, silently judging me… I actually got into an argument with her. “Yes, I know I fucked up! You can stop glaring at me like that now!” Seriously, she did… For two hours she just sat there silently judging me as a complete and utter fuck up because the dog decided to go under the deck. Unbelievable… Don’t blame my sister or her boyfriend for not replacing the fencing that had fallen over, the stuff the purposely put there because she’d done this before. Nope, just glare at me. Fucking cats… They’re all fucking jerks, even mine. In any case, after two hours of baking in the sun and worrying about poor Abby being out in the heat, she just decided she’d had enough, crawled out and came inside. What the fuck… Apparently she’s a jerk, too.

My sister had a theory on that, actually. I had to take Baxter with me (because he’s a Mommy’s boy) and Abby was fine with him as long as my sister was there. But she seemed resentful that Baxter and I were there and my sister wasn’t. The oldest dog, Foxy, just laid around like a sad lump, missing my sister terribly.

And then there’s Mia… Mia-bo-bina I was calling her. Isn’t she a little love? Poor baby lost a hind leg, but you should see her run! She and Baxter are buddies and were running and playing, which was so nice to see! And when I sat down to relax, this is where the little love bug was, curled up in front of me. She just loves her Aunt Jackie! Granted, I didn’t spoil her like her Mommy, but I gave her treats she wasn’t supposed to have (shh, you didn’t hear that). And I suppose I did spoil her a little… I did let her lay with me on the sofa, but she had to stay on the blanket because she was at the end of her heat and I don’t think my sister would have liked stains on the sofa.

I’m finding that I miss my little furry niece… And I think Baxter misses his puppy cousin. When he realized we weren’t going anywhere on Saturday, he literally just moped around the house all sad and didn’t want to eat. I felt terribly for him. I think he enjoyed the car rides, playing with Mia… I miss her and miss playing, too. I do not, however, miss the car rides. Those were nightmarish and I seriously don’t want to have to repeat them. That’s just insane.

If you’ve read this far… you deserve a cookie. Eat one for me, too, while you’re at it. And now we get to the reason I need those good vibes…

Friday morning, when I went to puppy sit, I wasn’t feeling very well. I couldn’t explain why I was feeling so lousy, but it was freaking me out a little. And, since I was missing my normal Friday visit with my mom and she’s usually my go-to when I need reassurance that I’m okay when I feel all weird and anxious, I decided to give her a call that morning while I was watching the pups. Good thing I did…

Honestly, her reassurance did nothing for me for hours, but it wasn’t without reason. When I called, she told me she hadn’t been feeling well and hadn’t gone to work all week. That’s so not like my mom. And it was weird that she hadn’t mentioned this when I called her Wednesday night to let her know I did fine on the highway (she knew I was nervous) and how the first day of puppy sitting was. She told me Monday she stayed home because she felt dizzy and thought her sugar was off. It’s possible; she is diabetic. It’s under control, but she has drops from time to time which can made you dizzy and funky. I thought nothing of that either, really. Then she told me Tuesday she began having chest pressure on the way to work, so when she was about five minutes away, she pulled over and texted her boss to say she wasn’t coming in. I was fully expecting her next sentence to be, “So I drove myself to the ER,” since there’s a hospital literally two minutes from where she works. Nope… The next thing she told me was she went home!!! She calmed herself after she got home and the pressure stopped, so she just figured it was anxiety and that was that. She did. however, ask for the next two days off to see if she could get in to see the doctor, which she couldn’t get in until this Tuesday. She said her legs felt like Jell-O all week but she had gone for bloodwork (her GP saw something in the last work up she didn’t like that apparently wasn’t her cholesterol) and shopping and she felt okay, but her legs still felt weird, probably from sitting around all week. She told me all this so casually, as if we were chatting about the weather or her latest crazy shopping excursion to Joanne’s where she bought a metric fuck ton of fabric when she already has a metric fuck ton waiting to be made into something. This was so not okay. But I needed leverage…

My mother can be the most stubborn person. I knew if I freaked out and told her to get her ass to the ER, she would have blown me off and gone pissy if I’d persisted. So as soon as we were off the phone, I texted my sister. I know my mom values her opinion as a nurse practitioner (and her boyfriend is a doctor). Not long after, once her meeting was finished, she called and I told her the entire story. She reacted the way I reacted in my head while talking to my mother. The problem was that my sister was several states away at this conference and my mother wouldn’t listen to me, hence the reason for calling my sister. Leverage! She told me to call my mother’s boyfriend, she would listen to him. I actually laughed at her. I could see none of that working, but I agreed and texted my mother’s boyfriend to call me from somewhere that my mother couldn’t overhear him.

Interesting conversation, that… Turns out she told him nothing… Mind you, she took him to the ER when he thought he was having a heart attack (he did) because he was smart enough to tell her something wasn’t right. She told him nothing about how she was feeling, not even the all important, “I was having pressure in my chest,” part. And, as it turns out, she didn’t even attempt to call the doctor until Thursday and the only reason she couldn’t get in sooner than this Tuesday was because she was adamant about seeing her normal GP and wouldn’t see one of the others in the practice. Her boyfriend was there when she made the call and she didn’t even tell the doctor’s office about her symptoms. So I relayed the message from my sister to which he told me I should have my sister call my mother because she wouldn’t listen to him, either.

Oh my god…

So I texted my sister all this shit (because I had no idea if she was in another meeting) and she texted me back a little while later to tell me my mother was going to the ER, her boyfriend was taking her. She had argued, but my sister argued right back and told her it couldn’t wait. And, as I was told, my mother said, “Your sister squealed on me, didn’t she…?” to which my sister replied, “She had every right to squeal on you! She was worried about you!” Nice… My mother was pissed that I ratted her out, her boyfriend texted me that they were in the fucking ER and he didn’t want to be there (he hates hospitals) and I’m at my sister’s puppy sitting and thinking, “I need a fistful of Xanax, a big bottle of wine and a fuck ton of Calgon to take my ass away from all of you…”

That night I was supposed to have my first bar session at the one new age shop I got to, but I was going to cancel since the ER decided they were keeping my mother. She told me no, I should go, she’d be fine. I know what she was thinking… If I didn’t go, I’d just sit and worry.

So I went… And after a mini meltdown (I needed to vent after the day I had), we did my bar session. Wow… The first thing I told her afterward was that it was really trippy. It’s difficult to explain, really… It’s like a mild hypnotic state, so she’d told me, but I didn’t see it that way, really. But some freaky shit went on, man… She didn’t say anything, I just laid with my eyes closed, relaxed, and she would touch certain parts of my head and face. I started feeling this warmth run up from my legs that felt so nice. Then I slowly began to feel very light, like I was floaty in a way, which felt so wonderful. At one point, however, my breathing became shallow and rapid, my eyes darting back and forth super fast. I didn’t feel panicked, but I was reacting that way. I even had tears run down my face. It was weird… Nothing seemed to set it off. I eventually calmed and slowly wasn’t light anymore and realized how bad that sucked because I felt all my aches and pains again (getting old sucks). So when we spoke after, she said that weird experience I had? It was the trauma leaving me and that the more sessions we had, the more would release. I’ve been in therapy over 30 years and I never felt any better after a session. But I did Friday. I’ll be going back. It’s worth the $60!

The card is the one I chose before I left. She has different decks she changes out and you can pick one before you leave for your message. This was mine. Very befitting…

So back to the mama drama…

My sister and I went to see her Saturday after picking up a few things to help her stave off boredom. As she was still in the ER, she could only have one visitor at a time (due to COVID spikes) so my sister said she would go first and get the ass ripping over with. Okay, then… I waited in the car, periodically going outside the car to smoke and not get busted by hospital security, for about an hour. Finally, my sister comes back out and told me my mother did, indeed, have a heart attack, though my mother didn’t tell her that. She wouldn’t tell either of us anything. My sister asked the nurse and, apparently, my mother is well aware because the doctor told her she had a heart attack… Before I went in, my sister told me that my mother’s boyfriend had ripped into her earlier that day so when my sister did the same, my mother started to cry. I was told to go easy on her and don’t let her know that I knew she had a heart attack. For fucking real?!

So instead of gently ripping my mother a new asshole, I had to go in there all bright and chipper, acting as if I was bubble-headed and fucking clueless. Everyone else gets to scold her for being foolish for waiting to go to the ER when I’m certain she knew she was having a heart attack, she was still mad at me for squealing on her, she tells no one anything except the one person she shouldn’t tell because of my anxiety… She tries to not set my anxiety off other times by hiding shit, but this time she tells me anxiety inducing things and hides it from everyone else… Brilliant… And then I have to play dumb and happy! That was rough, but I managed. When I went to leave, she said, “Go home with your sister and talk about me on the way back…” Ouch! That was unnecessary! I don’t think she saw me flinch… So I gave her a hug, said, “Bye, Mom,” and she flatly said, “Bye,” as she gave me a half-hearted hug. Major ouch… And I couldn’t let on that it hurt me.

It was late when my sister dropped me off, so I decided to go to my second home, the local diner, to try and eat. That’s when it all went to shit…

The owner’s mother was working that night… She’s such a sweet lady. And as soon as I saw her, I felt the tears building up. My waitress had just enough time to ask if I wanted the tea I usually get and I said yes as I got up and ran out, saying I’d be right back. I literally went outside and cried… All I could think of was that my mom, at the least, will need a stent put in and, at the worst, need open heart surgery and she’s still mad I squealed on her. Anything could happen during one of those procedures and, if she’s still mad and the worst happens, I couldn’t live with that. I eventually calmed myself and went back inside. The owner’s mother came over and asked if I was okay. I told her, “Not really, no…” She put an arm around me and told me I was there, now, and to leave everything else outside and have a nice time, everything would be alright. Didn’t I tell you she was sweet? Even one of the regulars went out of his way to make me smile. But the military asshole who saw me crying on his way in? He said nothing. A few assholes thanked him for his service, but not me. I’m sorry, you care enough about this country to fight for it and the people in it but you can’t see if a crying woman is okay?! But you eat up all those thanks you get, don’t you, you self-entitled prick… He’s lucky I didn’t tell him as much. I’m not exactly feeling really stable at the moment… And I really needed to vent…

And so, I think I’ll leave you, dear readers. and get my ass to Dunkin’…

I stopped on my way home Friday for a decaf coffee and a pumpkin donut, one of my vices. Hey, I earned that fucking donut after the day I’d had! So I place my order, I get to the window and the dipshit asks me, “What kind of donut did you want?” I told him pumpkin and he replied, “Oh… sorry, I just sold my last one…” In that split second, I saw myself literally leaping out through the open window of my car, through the drive-thru window, wrapping my hands around his scrawny throat and telling him, “Bitch, you better get me that fucking donut…” Honestly, that was my frame of mind at the time. I wanted to stress eat, even at the risk of clogging my arteries with a donut. I didn’t just want that pumpkin donut, I fucking needed it! Instead, my brain just politely asked if they had blueberry and, since they did, I said I’d take one of those instead. Today, however, I will not be so forgiving… Today I will have that fucking donut… My mother is going in for a cardiac cath today, I have no clue what the fuck is going to happen… I need that fucking pumpkin donut and I will have it!!!

Okay… Breathe, Jackie… It’s just a donut… A delicious donut that you don’t need and isn’t good for you… Ah, screw it… I’ll feel better if I get my donut…