Twenty Eleven… Buh-Byeeee!

Twenty Eleven. 2011. What a year. What a kick-you-in-the-crotch-then-spit-in-your-eye year.

I know, I know… If this was Facebook I wouldn’t be able to be honest with you, because apparently everything has to be Rainbows and Sunshine over there. But, here on my blog, I can tell the truth, and you can stop reading anytime, but you won’t because let’s face it, if someone had a worse year than you, it would probably make YOU feel a little bit better, right? Of course it would and I’m here to help YOU feel better. AS ALWAYS MY DARLINGS.

Let’s start with January 17th, 2011. My daughter and I said goodbye to Fluke. Our Old Man; our faithful Knight in Shining Armor who protected us for 13 years with his bark, his growl, with his mere presence. He so loved Mackenzie that when she was 6 years old he jumped out the 2nd story window onto the roof when he heard her screaming in the front yard. He didn’t know she was “play” screaming. He just knew he had to get to his little girl.

Old Man Fluke had cancer, which spread to his brain, and he had seizures. When the Phenobarbital stopped working, and the seizures became more frequent, I knew it was time to say goodbye, and we did. Two weeks later there was a recall on the Phenobarbital he was taking. It had been switched with Tramadol. Had Fluke been taking actual Phenobarb, he may have had more time. Or maybe not. We’ll never know. His face, as he slipped away, haunts me every single day.

So that’s how 2011 started. And it continued…

January 25th I quit smoking. I gave up coffee. Starbucks’ profit took a pretty hefty hit, but it had to be done. Why? Because I had a heart attack that day. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re dying (or think you’re dying), but that’s not exactly true. My daughter’s life flashed before my eyes and that was the shock I needed. So the cigarettes went, the coffee went, I lost 30 pounds and tried to let stress roll off my back. Easier said than done.

I lost my house this year. The house my daughter grew up in. The house Fluke lived in his entire life. Gone. Why was it gone? Because I was unemployed for 5 months this awesome year, and have been taking care of my mother financially for two and a half years. Which, in case you’re wondering, is fucking difficult WHEN YOU ARE UNEMPLOYED. I do not suggest letting your mother live with you, under any circumstances. ANY. Serious.

After losing the house, we moved into a rental in another city. A few days after moving in we discovered the rental was infested with scorpions and black widows. And I was still unemployed. And supporting my mother. When the last of my savings was gone, I had to file bankruptcy. Twenty Eleven was rocking my world, my universe, my everything. But wait…

Four weeks ago a cyst was found in my daughters left temporal lobe. Apparently she was born with it. She’s 17 now, and she’s been applying for scholarships and getting ready to fill out college applications. The quick-witted child that’s been on the honor roll since her first semester in kindergarten, who’s been in the Honor’s program since she started high school, now spends 7 hours a night doing homework because she can’t remember what she read an hour before. She can’t always understand the verbal instructions from her teachers – she just can’t put the words together in her head. Sometimes she can’t write the instructions down fast enough before they slip her mind forever, and she cries. She has headaches that won’t go away, her arms and legs go numb, and sleep eludes her. Sometimes her teachers can’t catch her attention and she seems to be lost in space. But she’s not. Not lost in space anyway.

I survived a heart attack; it was a wake up call. I survived months of unemployment and managed to support 3 people and 2 dogs, even though I lost my house and filed bankruptcy.

Twenty Eleven could’ve been forgiven, and chalked up as a string of powerful learning experiences.

But a cyst in my daughter’s brain? Are you fucking kidding me? Bite me 2011. You’re an asshole.

I’m not saying that 2012 will be better. And I’m not saying that 2012 will be the “Year of Jenny”… I would NEVER be so bold. But holy mother mary jesus CHRIST! Give me a damn break.

Obligatory, end-of-year rant over. Promise.


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