Coming Clean: PART I

Happy belated holidays!! It's been a whirlwind the last few weeks and somehow we're now at the end of the year.

Santa's got his naughty list and I'm on it.

I've been a berry bad blogger. My sincere apologies for being a complete shit-talker.

It's not easy to be consistent, but like anything else, it's a muscle that needs regular exercise.

I found out over the last few weeks that some people actually read this blog...quite reassuring. I had my doubts.

It probably had something to do with my little break the last few weeks. I go through phases where I think no one's reading or that what I'm writing isn't relatable...insecurities that naturally come with the territory.

I do check the stats but it's not always clear who's reading. What I heard in person was encouraging but I wouldn't have known if I didn't run into those people.

So I encourage you in return to post comments. This was always meant to be an interaction more than a sounding board for me, so your involvement is key.

I'm still growing in this process and could change direction at any time.

Since you're reading, I'd love to know when something I write strikes a chord with you...or when it doesn't.

Don't be shy people...sharing is caring. And if you can't get over your stage fright I'm pretty sure you can leave comments anonymously.

You can also make a word-less statement by liking a post via the Facebook button, which with any luck, should be installed by tomorrow.

If all else fails and you decide not to contribute, I'll still love you just for reading.

Ok, that's my speech.

So, in the spirit of the new year, I've decided to use this time to bring you up to speed and come clean about a few things. You can expect the next Travel Thursday installment very soon.

In the meantime, I'm breaking this post into pieces so you can read in doses.

First things first...

A few months back I wrote a post called The Silver Lining about one of the roughest periods I had experienced in a while. I thanked my friends and family for their support and that was the extent of the specifics.

What happened in a nutshell was a trifecta of shit that began around the time of Hurricane Irene. 

My dad was hospitalized after his 2nd knee replacement surgery and I had to find a rehab center the day the hurricane was going to hit where they'd accept him. 

Most of the rehab centers in southern Long Island were being evacuated, and on top of the typical constraints, my dad is bi-polar, diabetic, has COPD, heart disease and more medications than the local pharmacy. 

It was not a fun process...to say the least. 

With visions of Hurricane Katrina and its victims, I obsessively packed ziploc bags with mini flashlights, batteries, matches, non-perishable food, and other survival items. 

Then I tried to train my dad to text in case the phones went out. Considering he doesn't know how to save contacts and can't tell when his phone is on speaker, it was like training a 3 year old to crack hidden spy satellite code. 

I'm normally not a panicker, but I couldn't help recalling a documentary I watched once on what would happen if a sizable hurricane ever hit NYC...let's just say it wasn't good. 

His rehab center was in a flood zone but we couldn't evacuate him anywhere else, so I was really scared and felt responsible leaving him there.

I went back home to my mom's and boarded up our house there with the help of my neighbor. 

We thankfully survived the hurricane but learned the next week my dad had contracted a dangerous staph infection - one of the most difficult to get rid of - and had to undergo ANOTHER painful surgery.

 kinda cute as cartoons, but not so much in reality

After weeks of rehab, he had to start all over. There was no way to positively spin this one...it just plain SUCKED!!!

It's hard to explain how much more extreme these situations are for my dad than they would be for the average person. 

Aside from his personal and medical conditions, there are tons of outside logistics - insurance, doctors and home care - that had to be regulated.

At times it's as if we're dealing with a man that's 81, not 61. It's a lot to handle and was especially grueling in the midst of starting a new job. 

But finally, after 2 surgeries, 8 weeks of IV-antibiotics, and 3 months of recovery in 2 different rehab centers, he's back home and doing much better. 

I have to say, despite his lifelong struggles, the one thing that's actually improved over the years is his sense of humor.

On good days he sings me and my sisters off-the-cuff, rhyming voicemail messages that rarely make sense but are always hilarious. 

ok, this pic is sexy...I mean SCARY!

PART II tomorrow...

xoxo