A real friend isn't afraid to say what you really don't want to hear. Thank God, for friends.
This is the first time in such a long time that I've looked at my 360 page. I reread each of my blog entries and wonder, "Was that person really me"? The playfulness and spark are missing now and I wonder, will they ever come back?
My quirky attempts at poetry. I did have to smile when I read the one about coach Marcum. Actually, it was pretty good.
The letter to my dad on Father's Day spoke of the love I have for him. Judy (his long time mate) told me he cried when he read it because it touched his heart. It was so easy to express my love back then.
And then there is the love for my son that was so clear in every entry I posted. The pride, the hope, the fears. They are all there. Oh, how I miss that boy.
I miss the woman I used to be and didn't really even notice I had changed so much until reading these posts. Life was not perfect back then. I had my struggles and heartaches. We all do. And, I'm not ashamed to say there have been times over the past 17 months when it was just too hard to try to fight my way out of the darkness. It's easier to give in to it than to fight against it. But, as I sit here with tears rolling down my cheeks, I think revisiting this site has been good for me. It has reminded me of who I used to be. I had forgotten that along the way.
Maybe, just maybe I can reconnect to that person again? At least a part of her? That would be nice.
I have set up a memorial webpage for Jerry. Please, take the time to visit the site and leave a flower or message.
I've sent out emails with the link to those whom I have regular email addresses for. If you didn't receive one I apologize, but I must not have your email address.
Here is a link to the site:
Memorial Webpage
With love,
Adrianne
So I heeded all their warnings,
And protected them by law.
Guarded them very carefully,
And I always wore my bra.
After 30 years of astute care,
My gyno, Dr. Pruitt,
Said I should get a Mammogram.
"O.K," I said, "let's do it."
"Stand up here real close" she said,
(She got my boob in line,)
"And tell me when it hurts," she said,
"Ah yes! Right there, that's fine."
She stepped upon a pedal,
I could not believe my eyes!
A plastic plate came slamming down,
My hooter's in a vice!
My skin was stretched and mangled,
From underneath my chin.
My poor boob was being squashed,
To Swedish Pancake thin.
Excruciating pain I felt,
Within it's vice-like grip.
A prisoner in this vicious thing,
My poor defenseless tit!
"Take a deep breath" she said to me,
Who does she think she's kidding?!?
My chest is mashed in her machine,
And woozy I am getting.
"There, that's good," I heard her say,
(The room was slowly swaying.)
"Now, let's have a go at the other one."
Have mercy, I was praying.
It squeezed me from both up and down,
It squeezed me from both sides.
I'll bet SHE'S never had this done,
To HER tender little hide.
Next time that they make me do this,
I will request a blindfold.
I have no wish to see again,
My knockers getting steamrolled.
If I had no problem when I came in,
I surely have one now.
If there had been a cyst in there,
It would have gone "ker-pow!"