The Sandwich Generation

Y’all I know that I was supposed to come back with all of my Mardi Gras stuff, but life got in the way of my blogging plans…which leads me to this post. 

Lately, I have been feeling the squeeze of being a part of the sandwich generation and the grip is getting tighter and tighter.  If I had to relay it in NOLA terminology I’d say that…I feel like an overstuffed po-boy from We Never Close… 

and that’s one stuffed azz po’boy!

BTW,We Never Close is closed. I miss those sandwiches.

Lately, my father has been very ill (I almost lost him in January) and my son has been ill as well. Taking care of them and working full-time(taking care of other people) has been grueling! And I don’t think it would be as grueling if I were not a nurse. I think it’s the constantly being “on” is what’s getting to me. If I were an accountant and counted beans for a living and then went home to take care of the family, I don’t think it would be stressing me out as thin as I am now. I’m probably gonna need a mental health break soon…blogging about it is great therapy too though 🙂

In my line of work I hear a lot of people being very judgmental towards those who put their parents in extended care facilities. Let me be the one to tell ya, taking care of elderly parents is HARD WORK..and I do this for a living! Can you imagine not having any experience in the field and trying to take care of your mom or dad at home?

And a lot of it is mental…try taking the car keys from your elderly parents. Think they’re gonna just give up their independence all willy-nilly? NOT!

Stop judging people who put their parents in nursing homes. Most have families of their own and have siblings who bail out and they are trying to make sure their mom and dad will be taken care of. It’s hard being  a part of the sandwich generation…they are doing the best that they can and sometimes best is putting your parents in a facility.

If you know someone who is taking care of his/her parent (especially if it’s someone you are close to), a few respite hours is probably what they need most. Offer to keep an eye on their parents for an hour or two so they can get away and maybe see a movie.

I’ll probably take an extended weekend and just lock myself up in a hotel room for a few days.

I need the rest.  

sg

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Why Can’t We Be Friends

If you’ve read my blog any length of time you’ll notice that, I don’t open up too often .

It’s a struggle of mine not only on this blog, but in my everyday life.

I tend to be a loner because, I don’t like drama.

If you’re the type of person to bring drama, I  steer clear of you.

I don’t believe friends have to argue. We can agree to disagree and leave it at that.

All the hooping and hollering stuff ain’t for me.

I’m not in the business of trying to change anyone’s opinion about anything.

I will not use anything you tell me against you.

If I can’t be a blessing in your life, I’d rather not be there.

I recently had someone use something I once told her against me.

It wasn’t traumatic but, it did let me see the type of person she really is.

I can not do the frenemy thing.

Life is too short for all that foolishness.

Which is why I tend to be a loner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jury Duty Hell

jury duty

I don’t know how many of you  have served jury duty but, I get called to the blasted thing all the time.  I mean it’s like, they must have my name flagged and as soon as my two years are up,

I’m called again.

NavySeal rarely gets a notice to serve. He has only received one summons  the entire time I’ve known him.

And he didn’t have to serve because of impending surgery.

I’ve received a slew of them.

jury-duty-300x225

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a problem being called to serve.

I don’t have a problem with serving.

 In fact,once I’m a juror, I’ll fight my tail off in deliberations.

jury selection

The problem is,

if I get called to go to a courtroom as a potential juror,

that’s it.

I’m going to be a juror.

jury duty2

I mean with about 100 people hanging around the jury pool area, if my name is called in the 35 or so to head to a courtroom so they can select 12 jurors,

I’m gonna be one of the 12.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s civil court or criminal.

If I walk into the courtroom,

those darned attorneys are gonna pick me to sit on the jury.

I haven’t figured out what it is that makes me so attractive to attorneys that, they want me sitting in that box.

jury1

But, I haven’t broken my streak yet.

Recently, I served on a 6 day trial.  Five days were from 8:30 a.m to 4:30 p.m.  and the 6th day (deliberations)was a marathon from 9 a.m to 9 p.m.

It was a multi-million dollar civil case. Dude was rear-ended by a company truck and had to have surgery.  Doctors said that  it’s unlikely  he’ll ever work again.

At least with that case, I understood why the plaintiff’s attorney wanted a nurse as a juror.

But, they had two of us in the room and the other one had more experience than I did. She had 40 years experience.

They picked me anyway.

jury duty4

 

I actually teared up when they called my name.

I’ve been the only black person on the jury…

in New Orleans.

How does that happen?

I’ve been the only female on the jury.

I haven’t been sequestered yet though.

I have one friend who always tell me that, they need intelligent, honorable people on the jury.

And that I should consider it an honor  I’m chosen so often.

I think my name is stuck in whatever it is that selects potential jurors.

Have you ever been selected to serve on a jury? 

fate-court-jury-duty-demotivational-posters-1306706720

 

 

The Weight Of My Denial

Yesterday, I watched a documentary on PBS called Soul Food Junkies. In a nutshell it’s a documentary regarding the food that African-Americans eat (soul food) and how unhealthy it is.  Most of the things in the documentary I already knew. Being in the nursing profession, I’ve seen the ramifications of a diet high in saturated fats and low in fiber all too often.

I never was a person to  consume pig feet, chitterlings,pig lips or turkey necks like so many of my friends. I’m also not that big on what’s considered Soul Food. I can take or leave fried chicken, black-eyed peas,mac and cheese, and the like.

Still, I’m not the healthiest eater.

I have a terrible sweet tooth and I really need to eat more fruits and veggies.

I’ve been trying to correct that but, it’s a really slow process.

And while I’m not big on soul food, after watching the documentary I realized that,I do have an addiction to Creole Cuisine.

I didn’t realize how bad the addiction was until I had to shop for an evening gown for the Nyx Ball. When I began looking for dresses to try on, I figured I wasn’t in my usual size 3-4 anymore. I’ve been having fibroid tumors for a while  and my abdomen area isn’t as flat as it used to be. I picked up a few dresses in 5/6 and a few in 7/8 just to be on the safe side. I was totally floored when the size 7/8 dresses didn’t fit.  I reluctantly picked up a 9/10 and tried it on.

It was a perfect fit.

Still, it couldn’t be me.  Even though the scale said that I had gained weight,I attributed it to the fibroids.  There was no way I was actually in a size  9/10 dress.

I drove  home screaming about, how horrible it was that companies today are deliberately making dresses smaller, to make it appear that women are larger than what they actually are.

“I don’t gain weight so, I know it’s those frigging companies! Where is my tape measure?!”

I took the tape measure and measured my waist.

“Well, I expect my WAIST to be larger, I have fibroids!”

Then, I took the tape measure and measured my hips,

O_O

what happened to my 34″ hips?

How da hell I have 39 1/2 ” hips!?!

Still, that CAN’T be a size 10!

*goes to a computer and pull up women’s clothing chart*

O_O

Well, of course the charts are gonna say that!

I know what! I have a pair of shorts in the closet that I could never wear because they were too big!

*goes to the closet,pulls out shorts and put them on*

O_O

I’m still coming to grips with the fact that, I’m in a size 10.

I was in total denial because I did not “feel”  any larger.

I was still wearing the same clothes because most of my pants are baggy.

Nothing felt tight on me except shirts…but that’s because I have fibroids (I blamed fibroids for everything.)

I know I have some work ahead of me.

I have to get these extra pounds off of me and get my love for creole cuisine under control.

Because as much as I love eating it,

I love living more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Silence is Deafening

I always thought that I’d love it when my kids were grown.  I come from a fairly large family and there was always a bunch of kids hanging around.  My parents raised 7 of us in this house and then when we began to have kids, my nephews and nieces were always here…mostly the boys. And they were pretty rambunctious  so yeah, it was always pretty loud in this house.  My kids and their first cousins were always getting into something around here.

Most of my nieces and nephews are grown now and beginning to have families of their own.  They aren’t around as much and the family is beginning to splinter off.   I was sort of prepared for that part though. At least there’s Facebook because, we talk often using that site.

What is throwing me for a loop is my own Empty Nest Syndrome.  My kids are grown and the house is so quiet. YellowJacket has been staying by her dad’s house (she’s driving now and her dad has put wheels under her so she’s nesting there) and PurpleKnight is rarely home between working and going to school.  In the fall, he’s going away to college and won’t be here at all.

The house is so still.

The stillness of this house is hitting me like a ton of bricks.

I can only imagine how hard it was for my mom.  It must have been hell for her. My mom had kids around her from 1951 until three months before she died in 2002.  A lot of times, I think that’s what killed her spirit to live….this big, quiet ass house.

It’s obvious that I’m entering another phase of my life.

My third transition.

I have to let it sink in that it’s truly my time now and revamp.   It’s gonna take some effort, much more than I thought.

I don’t think I’ll ever leave New Orleans.

There is always something festive to do here.

And I’m gonna need her to keep me company.

Because the silence around here is deafening.

BayouCreole Battles The Silent Killer

This is one post that I’m actually glad to be able to write.

If I’m writing it, I’m still here

and I didn’t stroke out.

Even though I’m still stuck in the bed, at least I’m not in the hospital anymore.

It all started  Thanksgiving  Day while I was in the kitchen cooking something.

I just didn’t feel like myself.

I felt tired and my heart was racing.

So, I stopped cooking and took a nap.

I felt better after that so, I finished cooking my holiday meal.

I took my vital signs.

My blood pressure was elevated but nothing too bad.

My pulse rate was another story though…it was high.

I called it an early evening and went to bed to get some rest.

The next morning (Black Friday)  when I took my vitals signs, my blood pressure and pulse rate was still elevated.

I started to worry because I usually have a low BP and now, it’s been high for two days.

And my heart rate had been elevated for two days as well.

I began taking my vitals every 30 minutes  to keep an eye on it and

at  noon, my blood pressure hit 188/101 with a pulse rate of 130!

That bought me a trip to the emergency room.

I was hooked up to a monitor so they could keep an eye on my heart ( wouldn’t want me to have a heart attack or stroke while waiting to see the doctor)ran an EKG and some labs.

Everything looked okay.

My head was foggy as hell though and my pressure and pulse remained high.

So,  after many hours in the hospital,

they gave me some medication to bring my pressure and heart rate down,

diagnosed me with high blood pressure and gave me a prescription for some meds.

High Blood Pressure.

Hypertension.

The Silent Killer.

It runs in the family and it seems to have caught up with me.

But we’re gonna battle it out,

because I have no intention of remaining on these meds.

And I play to win.

Teen Violence.

Last night YellowJacket was on the phone with her boyfriend. She had him on speakerphone so, I could hear every word…and he would hear us.

I wasn’t paying attention to their conversation but he knew I was in the room because, I was helping her with a project and talking to her from time to time.

My ears perked up when I heard him say,”I’m not afraid to hit you in front of your mom”

My response was immediate…

AND I’LL SHOOT YOU IF YOU DO. I’m not afraid to kill you.

He got real quiet after that.

He may have been playing.

I’m not.

Don’t even try to entertain the thought of fucking with my girl.

To quote Tracie Washington, “Orange ain’t on my color wheel but, I’ll proudly wear it if you mess with my kid.”