I can't even describe how I feel with words.

All I want to do is comfort my friend, but there is no comfort at all for this. I want hold my love in my arms and thank God he's still here. I want to breathe in his scent and hear his voice. I want to feel his strong arms around me and to tell him how proud I am of him for doing the job that lets the rest of us sit around and complain about insignificant shit in safety. I want to tell him how blessed I feel to have his love and devotion.

I want to sleep for a year. I just want to wake up and find him there next to me. God, how did my grandmothers do this? It was tens of thousands of times worse back then. There was no Internet, no cell phones. There were no mid-tour breaks. There were no 12-15 month tours. They came home when they were dead or the job was done.

B.B. and Big Jon, thank you. I have all I have because you fought for it.

Because whatever the selfish whiners may say about this country, no matter what they think of my husband's mission (to keep his men and the civilians of Iraq safe by hovering above, ready to blow away anyone that would do either group harm), they sit in the safety of their homes because no one would dare invade our land, bring a fight to our streets thanks to the very existence of our military. Which is comprised entirely of volunteers. Men and women who, for whatever reason, have chosen to give up many of their personal comforts and freedoms so we may have ours. Do people realize that even in peacetime that it's a huge pain in the ass to do that job? As if there were no deployments just because we're not "officially at war"? As if no one ever receives that devastating phone call when we're not at war?
Anyone who doesn't get that, fuck you. With something sharp.

Christian H.: Never been prouder to call anyone a friend.

"We Sleep Safe In Our Beds because rough men stand ready to visit violence on those that would do us harm."
~ George Orwell

Can't sleep

I promised Leslie I was gonna take those Tylenol PMs and go to bed. I didn't.

Holy crap, why can't I just get up from here and move without feeling like my heart is going to explode?

I've done everything I can. I called friends from Rucker so they wouldn't find out by seeing his name on some casualty list.

The Naked Ninja told me: "It's always the guy that everybody likes".
Can everyone please start hating my husband? Now?

I can't believe we were worried it was Thomas, and I was so relieved to see that he had logged on to Myspace on Sunday. I was correct to assume that it meant he was still breathing. Then I got that fucking call. Like a punch to the diaphram. It's always like that. Sympathy is expected, but why the hell am I empathysing? I've known my share of loss, sure, but I'm not a widow. This is so fucked up. It's not going to bring Chris back, or help Christina out in any way. Yet I can't sleep, and every distraction I immerse myself in is interrupted by tragic reality. Like my brain has to constantly remind me: "Hey! Your friend is dead and your other friend, his wife, probably feels like dying right now!"
Thanks, brain. Fuck you.

Every time I close my eyes, I see Christina's face. Only it's not her face, because Christina is one the happiest people I've ever met. That face, that grief, it can't belong to her. Please, God, it just can't!
I can't sleep, because every time I close my eyes, I see Christina's face, then I see myself in her shoes, and my stomach twists and my eyes snap open. I panic, I want to jump out of my skin.
I think of Chris, and I want to scream. It's unfair. It's impossible! How can someone full of enough life for 10 people be wiped out so suddenly?

It's such an odd feeling to be simultaneously relieved (it wasn't Michael) and devastated. Anybody, please (almost) anybody but Chris.
And what can I do? Russia is closer to Christina than I am.
I alternately want to be alone in the house, then want to get out of the house. I want to be around a friend, then want to get away from them.

The anxiety had finally gone away. I was settling down and getting used to Michael being gone. Now I'm absolutely terrified. It's only a month in. Now the anxiety is back tenfold, compounded with grief. Impossible grief. Maybe that sounds strange coming from someone who lost her mother at age 7, and lost her nephew on his first birthday, but it's just so...impossible. How will she keep going? I'm afraid for her, I'm afraid for Michael, I'm afraid for myself. I haven't been so afraid in a very, very long time.
I know it was just an accident, and one that probably wouldn't have happened in an Apache, but I can't help it, I'm just flipping the fuck out. Doesn't matter right now that Chicago is more dangerous than Iraq. That doesn't help what I'm feeling. What everyone that knew him is feeling...

The best of friends, the best of people, the best of what love is supposed to be, torn apart. Michael's friends. My friends. I have the honor of calling them that.

You were the best of what people can be, Christian. I wish I could give you back to her, to all of us. I wish this was all just a mistake. Bureaucratic slip.

This can't be real. It just can't be.


I hate that this has led to my own selfish fear for Michael. I can't see her without seeing what could be myself.

The Lord bless you and keep you, Christian.

We all love you.

ZOMG where'd I go????

Who cares, right?

The important thing is yes, I did finally get a diagnoses in Tx (fibromyalgia), and yes, I am feeling much better. I don't feel better because of anything the new doctor did for me though. At least he did figure out what was wrong me, which was worth it, I guess.

I ordered these "energy support" supplements made by Dr. Weil, and started taking CoQ-10 supplements back in May. I started feeling better about 10 days after taking those two supplements daily. I felt pretty great all summer long. I still have some lower energy days, but nothing at all like I had before. Reading back through these entries, I can't believe I actually felt that bad. How did I manage to live like that? I can't even remember what it was like, and it's only been a few months since I started feeling better. Whatever is behind my seemingly permanent "improvement" (still not feeling as good as I would like to), I'm grateful. Sofa King grateful I can't even say.

...

Ironically, I've gained weight since feeling better. I have the energy to move about more, and I've gotten wider. Since any normal amount of aerobic exercise at once (I used to do it in short intervals, and not push it too hard in addition to easy Yoga) used to be out of the question, I was way out of the habit of regular, aerobic calorie-burning exercise. In my mind 30-45 minuetes of moderate exertion still=pain and exhaustion for days. This is not the case any longer, but it's taking a lot of convincing (from myself) on a daily basis. So yes, now I can get on the elliptical trainer for 45 minuets without practically collapsing an hour later. I can walk my dogs and not have to concentrate on just being able to put one foot in front of the other. It's much more enjoyable for all of us now. All that's left to do is get that fear out of the back of my mind that exertion is going to render me useless for days.

On top of my silly exercise phobia, I have been eating so much more. When I started feeling better, everything seemed better. Including food. Food tasted so much better, and I got into cooking again since I had so much more energy. Curse you Everyday Italian chick with the huge head and your easy, delicious meals!!

Now almost all of my jeans are too small, and my tummy is doing some ripple-ish things it's never done before. Okay, so I decided enough is enough and loaded up on fruits and veggies and healthier foods at the grocery store.

It sure is a bitch to walk by all those yummy pastries when I'm picking up my whole-wheat English muffins. *sigh*

...

Back home, it rained all but 3 days in my entire 6-week visit. It was 70 degrees on the 4th of July at 12 noon. In TEXAS!! WTF?? Oh well, at least the soggy landscape made it safe to set off fireworks. We had a little pool party, and I swam just because I knew when I got back to Alabama I was really going to wish I had a pool in the backyard. I was shivering the rest of the night....

It was great seeing some of my friends again, especially Leslie. We had a blast hanging out at Nana bar in the Anatole drinking $10 margaritas like spoiled rich girls. Wait...she is a spoiled rich girl. Okay, not spoiled, but her mom tries to make it so.


This is Squirt. She was the runt of the last litter of kittens (all cats at Dad's house have now been fixed).









She kept me warm at night while at Dad's house with all of his extreme air-conditioning. Tarquin, the old Dalmatian attacked her in the back yard, and I had to rush her to the vet. Fortunately, she only ended up with a bruised lung and a temporary deep fear of dogs. I kept her inside after they released her so I could find her when I had to give her her twice-daily dose of antibiotics.

After Leslie and her boyfriend Paul came out for our little 4th of July party, they took her home with them. I left two days later, so that worked out great. I got to stay warm at night, and the kitty got a good home. Leslie has a Pomeranian at home, and I'm happy to report they're bestest friends and Squirt no longer has doggie phobia.

...

My sister, nephew and my brother all drove me back here and stayed for 10 days. That was interesting, to say the least. I realised once again that someday soon, I am going to have punch my brother out. Again. Seriously, who the hell yells while they're a guest in someone else's house while that someone else is asleep and they have a check ride (flight school test) in the morning? Who plays the guitar while people are trying to watch TV? My brother, that's who. Ugh.

I know my grandmother raised him without ever saying "no" to anything he asked for (even after he was perfectly capable getting what he wanted for himself), but grow up and take some personal responsibility already! Please stop letting your issues make the rest of the family miserable...

Because I'm sick of hearing about it already!! Kthnxbai.

....

By the way, concerning Michael's aircraft selection, got Apaches:

Bitchin'.

Adventures in exhaustion

After about two weeks of feeling worn out and too tired to even type most of the time, I'm finally feeling better today. Wednesday night I went to sleep at 11 pm, and I woke up at 5:30 pm the next day. I shit you not. I have been so exhausted for absolutely no reason (what else is new?). Michael and I decided it would be best if I went back home to Texas for a while to find a decent doctor that can offer me an answer other than "exercise lol!". Please, if I never exercised, don't you think I'd be a bit, I dunno....chubbier than I am, jerkwads? People that I eat like I do and never exercise are FAT! I am not. So, docs...any other brilliant suggestions? /tirade off


...


So, I guess I'll be heading home after Michael goes on hold for aircraft selection. Dad's house is crowded, and I hate to make it more crowded, but I need help. Bad.


My brother's living in the house, along with my sister and her family while they fix up the house they bought across the street from my dad.


So....I guess I'll be trying to grab sleep on the couch while Dad falls asleep in front of the TV with his big glass of Ronrico rum and Coke. Doesn't matter, it will be good to be home again for a while. Pip (sister) has the same symptoms I do, so maybe we can figure out what the hell is wrong with us together. She always has more luck finding doctors that are willing to try new things than I do. All I ever get are confused looks when I describe my symptoms and doctors that aren't even willing to utter the words "Chronic Fatigue Syndrome". If I'm not what they call "chronically fatigued", I don't know who is.


I'm looking forward to seeing my friends, and having a pool to swim in. I'll miss my boys, but there are plenty of dogs, and even a new litter of kittens at my father's house. Some things never change.
...
This is for gatorsexpress*

The Naked Ninja, getting pwned by Loki:

Ugh

Tired again. Really, really tired. This morning I woke up, and when I raised my arms to pull the ponytail elastic out of my hair, I doubled over--out of breath and about to faint. I got back in bed and stayed there until 3pm. It took me 3 hours to do about 1 1/2 hours worth of house work yesterday. I don't know what to do about it anymore. When the exhaustion strikes, there is nothing I can do about it. No amount of vitamins, coffee, deep sleep, or healthy eating can stop it. I just have to ride it out and get through it the best that I can. Which is not very well. This is so frustrating, especially since we really need money and I can't make any when I'm like this. And I'm like this at least twice a month. Not two days a month, two weeks. That's half of the time. I hate my traitorous body sometimes. When vaccuming leaves me out of breath and about to pass out, I just want to scream (but I'm too tired for that kind of exertion).
Fuck.

.....
So, 25 days ago I woke up to a loud clap of thunder. I peeked through the blinds on the window behind the bed. Growing up in Texas, I knew exactly what that green sky meant (tornadoes). Great. I knew I wasn't going to get to take a shower or even make any coffee. I dashed into the living room and turned the TV to the weather channel, then realized that a room with 3 large windows and two glass doors was not the best place to be when two tornadoes have already been spotted in the area. So I grabbed the little hand-crank flashlight/radio/alarm that Michael bought for power outages (bought with hurricanes in mind) and went back into the bedroom with the dogs.We have a crawlspace under this house, and part of the concrete foundation actually goes under the ground. I was ready to take the dogs and run for it, but I didn't want to get under there unnecessarily. What? It's fucking dirty under there. I tuned into a local station and found out the tornado had hit the high school. Of all the places, it hits the kids. Later that night, we learned that 8 of them died when the concrete slab roof collapsed on them. Michael's IP's daughter lost two of her friends and ended up with some lacerations on her face, but was otherwise okay.
I never had to get under the house. Our plastic deck furniture didn't even get blown over. Most of the damage was downtown and near the high school. Aerial view
March 1st was also my friend Crystal's birthday. There was a party for her the next night at Scott's house, but she and her husband never showed up. Our friends Chris and Christina didn't show up either. Christina is a SERE instructor, and her husband Chris (who was in WOCS with Michael) is former Navy SAR. Their experience in search and rescue means they were needed. They helped to try and dig the kids out of the rubble the night before, and I'm guessing they really weren't up to partying the next night.
On St. Patrick's day, Michael and I went to the opening of Myori, the new Japanese restaurant in Enterprise (don't laugh, I already made Irish stout stew earlier in the week). We got there really early for dinner and managed to snag a seat at one of the hibachi tables. The table across from us was full of students from the high school. Some had blue and white paw prints painted on their faces, and one had on a T-shirt with the names of the students killed March 1st, and "May we never forget". It was good to see the kids laughing and smiling just over two weeks after the tornado. Another family seated at the same hibachi table as we were told us that Enterprise hadn't had a tornado since 1918.
I hate not being strong enough to help with the clean-up. I hate being too broke to feed the volunteers. This community has been good to me, and it's not at all what I thought a small town in Alabama would be like. The base and flight school make it an international community, so it's not all locals. Of course, the locals are very nice. Even the ones that fit the redneck stereotype.
The best I could do was give a little money to the tornado_fund, and offer some prayers. The people here appreciate both.

Imma get a tan in February. You just watch.

I actually managed to let my nose get a bit pink on Thursday. Ha ha ha! This sunshine, like, rules, and stuff. I almost put my bikini on Friday morning for my 10am-3pm sun session. Then I remembered that I always bitch at my friends and Michael when they get burned or spend too much time in the sun. Not to mention that I think tanning salons deserve the title of "Cancer Merchant" just as much as cigarette companies. So, I restained myself from my hypocracy and put a hat on. Yay me.

....

Loki was having peeing problems again, so Michael took him to the vet and (after sedating him because he still isn't comfortable with strangers touching him on his belly) they did an ultrasound and found that his bladder walls are four times thicker than they should be! They also found little gritty things in there that they said might be tiny bladder stones. My poor, big, nasty, slobbery baby. This is what he looked like when he came home all stoned:

The vet gave us some antibiotics, so hopefully that will at least bring the bladder swelling down. Thank god for pet insurance at times like this.

Why do purebred animals seem to have so many medical problems? Hustler never needs anything besides food and his vaccinations. I think my Ridgeback, Bean, is the only purebred dog I've ever had that was as low-maintence as a mutt. Then again, when you breed a dog for baying lions, you wanna make sure it's not gonna get the vapors on you or anything.

Also, the antibiotics are giving Loki worse gas than usual. Thank god we've been spending so much time outside.