KISS Icon Paul Stanley Out & About in Beverly Hills

I was walking to my car crossing the street when I saw KISS lead singer Paul Stanley. The last time I saw him and his lovely wife she was pregnant with their youngest child Sarah 18 months ago.

A Very, Very, "Happy Ending".....

Now for the "Happy Ending"........don't we always love it when that happens?

I especially do for many good reasons.

After 5 days in the hospital and warnings over and over of "doom and gloom"....Friday finally came and that was the day I was to receive another "CAT scan" to see where I was in this process I was in.

Dr. #1 came in early.....and gave me some brief thoughts.

After that one left....I proceeded to get prepared mentally and physically for this test...which they had just told me after Dr. #1 left...would be at 10:00am.


Then I started preparing myself "Spiritually" for this event.
I was sitting up in my bed praying and reading a Psalm...my most favorite book of the Bible by the way.
 It always, always, comforts me.
 I just wanted to be "quiet."

And all was very quiet.

So much so that at 9:00am I heard this coming over the loudspeaker in the Hospital Hallway....

                         " For I know the plans I have for you,"
                                       declares the LORD, "
                                       plans to prosper you
                                       and not to harm you,
                                      plans to give you hope
                                              and a future."


Now...do you think this didn't make me want to shout and jump for joy right then and there??
This little event.......had just confirmed what I was already believing for.
                           And I absolutely was THRILLED!!!!!
 Because this is one of my all time favorite scriptures out of "Jeremiah..chapter 29 verse 11."
 
So these words spoke exactly to me.

At that same moment...I realized.....
                              "I am going to be JUST FINE!"

Not long after that happened...they came (quite on time even) to get me to roll me down to the Scan area. I knew it was going to go well....but the lady doing the CAT scan gave me this long and weird look at the end of it...making me think..."what is that all about???"

Once back in my room...I pulled my IV pole around with me as I packed up my belongings in anticipation!

At 1:00pm...the Surgeon...Dr. #2 came in by surprise and told me he was releasing me...and told me a few things. Which all were great NEWS!  I responded with.."HALLELUJAH!!!" And he laughed and shook my hand, then left my room. Probably very glad to be done with that crazy lady in there. HA!!

(My husband took this photo of me with my cell phone right after my admittance to the hospital..I had just had my first CAT scan and was in horrible pain. Thank you very much!

Do you think I wanted to just get up and smack him for doing this? HA!)

Now the only issue was...I had to wait for Dr. #1 who was my admitting Dr...to release me as well.
This became a HUGE problem. One that we were able to solve about FOUR hours later thankfully.

I was DRESSED and waiting in my room for all that time...just wanting to get out of there. At some point my little nurse came in to inform me they couldn't find Dr. #1...he had gone home early that afternoon and no one knew who was covering for him.......
And that I "might have to stay the night again."

Smiling I responded back to her..."Oh no I won't, I'm going home."  :~) She was a sweetie...but I was SO done with that place.

UGH!!!
RED TAPE...always so frustrating.

I was eventually able to get released by a different Dr. mainly due to the fact that my husband Don is excellent about cutting through Red Tape...he should run for President of the United States.

I know he could get our country back on track and clean up the Oil Spill all at the same time, along with a host of other things as well. HA!

I arrived home around 6:00 that evening...very tired but very grateful for the journey and all that had been done.

Though I never want to repeat this again.......:~)

Sooooo many people "nation wide" and beyond reached out to me during that week and afterwards.

What a great thing...
For people to gather together behind a person...many of whom did not even know me nor anything about me.

I am so thankful to all of you........for praying and encouraging me and supporting me during this time and after the fact.

**Please feel free to contact me if you have any thoughts or questions!!**

Just remember...God is not a respecter of persons...He did this for me.....and He can do this for you!!!

Day Twenty Nine: An Open Letter to My Friends

Giving everyone a fist-bump.

To My Dear and Loving Friends,

Thank you for all your sympathy cards, fruit baskets, books, aromatherapeutic candles, bubble bath, healing crystals, chocolates, cheese baskets, and meals in the form of gift certificates. (Oh, especially that last one!)

I am overwhelmed by it all. It makes me a little uneasy because I really hate to be the center of attention, good or bad, and because all I want to do is hide under a rock. But I do appreciate all that you've done for me.

I wanted to address some sentiments that have been expressed in your notes and, in some cases, our conversations, though these things maybe have been more implied rather than explicitly conveyed.

Feeling like a bad friend.
Okay, get over it! If you're my friend--and I mean truly my friend--then we're good. We all have lives that include our own families and careers ( or, in my case, quasi-career or "career"). Over the years, you have provided me with happy memories that I can return to when things get rough. And if I'm inclined to pick up the phone or send an email, you are always there for some witty if not entirely pithy banter, and we're back to where we left off despite how long it's been. I won't name names, but you can stop it now. Stop the self-induced guilt trip, for goodness sake.

Relating your own experience with losing a loved one and giving your advice on how to move on.
I think that I mentioned this before, but I'll say it again: I am utterly moved to tears when I read how you have lost a loved one, too. It makes me feel like you are embracing me with your words. It's that strong, this sharing of our loss, the acknowledgement of my pain that you know too well. It's the gracious part of grieving, the acceptance of others into a group whose members came together unwillingly. To say that you welcomed me with open arms is an understatement.  

Having your own familial guilt. 
Most of us are around the same age, so there's a sense of "wow, that could be me experiencing the lost of my own parent." I hope that it makes you spend more time with your mom or dad, that you see how your time with them is a finite thing. And that whatever grudges and issues you may have with each other, you can put it aside.

Getting together sooner than later.
I'll try. And that's the best answer I can give you. I've been slowly sending myself back into the social stratosphere, and I've had some mixed results. I think that having an alcoholic beverage takes the edge off, but I'm beginning to think that this may become a problem soon. And reviewing some of my blog entries, I've noticed that I sure do talk a lot about drinking. I'm a little afraid that my next social outing may be my own intervention. So now I'm paranoid on top of being uber-aware of my anger and sadness.
So do you still want to get together soon?

Let me just end this with a heart-felt thank you. I am deeply honored and incredibly touched by your efforts to comfort me during this tough time in my life. And I hope that I am always deserving of your friendship.

Love always,
Richela

Aside From Your Family And Friends, Who Is The First Famous Person Do You Like To Meet In Heaven And Why?

Aside from your family and friends, who is the first famous person do you like to meet in heaven and why?

Day Twenty Eight: My Long Goodbye

Image from stock.xchng .

I never fully explained the reason why I write about my Mom. I suppose you can figure it out fairly quickly, but it would still be your version of why I do what I do. So here I go.

The weekend my Mom passed away, it was both a sudden end and a long goodbye. She was admitted to the hospital on a Friday evening with an ischemic stroke, which is the most common of strokes. She was alert and responsive, and we all expected that she would recover. But something happened in the middle of the night. A fever, uncontrollable swelling, and then my Mom stopped responding to the stimuli: light in the eyes, pokes and pinches in various parts of her body. A sudden end to our Mom as we knew her, but she was still technically alive.


She lived for another two days, passing away on a late Sunday afternoon that happened to be Father's Day. My sisters and I endured a stream of relatives that had to see for themselves what our Mom had become, had to say their farewells to the woman that gave so much of her life to them. She was always the strong one, the cousin or sister or aunt that had the courage to tell them how to get out of whatever trouble they found themselves in. Often she would offer to help anyway she could: place to stay, help finding a job, or speaking on his or her behalf. It was always my Mom that the got phone calls when someone needed help.

No one could believe a little thing like a stroke could knock my Mom to the ground. Despite hearing what we told them, that she would never recover and that it was just a matter of time before she died, each person talked to her like she was simply asleep, and some begged her to open her eyes. My great aunt, a spunky woman who is close to 90 years old, walked from one side of my Mom's bed to the other, all the while poking my Mom gently and softly asking her to wake up and look at her. My Mom's sister brought her Catholic prayer group, and they recited Hail Mary's for an hour around her bed, crying and asking God to grant them a miracle. My Dad watched the ventilator's monitor and kept false hope alive by seeing things that weren't there.

I had been awake since she was admitted into the hospital that Friday evening, and the knowledge that my Mom could pass away any second kept me from eating or sleeping until Sunday evening. So I watched my family go through their goodbyes, and my sleep deprivation made the whole experience surreal, like I was watching it all on TV and crying alone on my couch.

It was a long goodbye. It was the most time I'd spend with my family in years, probably since I was in high school. But it was their long goodbye and not my own. And this is why I am writing it all down.

This is my way of saying goodbye to my Mom, saying farewell to her emotional presence, her strength and support in my life. Because at the hospital it was her physical presence that I let go and nothing more.

I decided to write every day about my Mom, about my grief, for a 100 days. Why 100 and not 1,000, I don't know. Maybe I'll change the number at a later time, especially if I feel that I'm not quite done.

Every day that I write about her, I break off a piece of my grief and set it free. It burns a little less inside. There's a moment right after I'm done writing when everything gets quiet in my head. I realized yesterday that it was peace. And though it may be a momentary thing, it is something I can look forward to.

Lynwood's Lindsay Lohan: Snuck Out The Back Jack

According to reports Lindsay Lohan was released from Lynwood Correctional Facility at 1:35 am. LiLo snuck out the back to avoid being photographed in handcuffs. With a police escort Lohan was taken to the UCLA Medical Center to serve a 90 day rehab stint.

Day Twenty Seven: Sneaking Drinks

A White Russian from liqurious.not.org .

Today is a lazy Sunday and I'm laying on my couch, a cold beer within arm's reach.

I'm calm and peaceful, and thoughts of my Mom are not tinted with remorse or sadness. I'm experiencing a temporary upswing, and who knows how long it will last. But while I'm here, I might as well tell you another funny story, and hopefully you'll laugh along with me.


When I was in high school, my parents and I attended a cousin's wedding somewhere on Long Island. I didn't complain about being dragged away from my friends and other social obligations. Instead, I got all gussied up and looked forward to the fancy meal and free booze.

Of course, being a high school junior, I wasn't exactly drinking publicly. (Or legally for that matter.) So I had to be sneaky about it. I asked my Dad if he wanted a beer or a mixed drink, and then headed over to the bar where I personally had a little something before returning with his order. After the second time, he got wise to my scam and smiled at me. "Get me whatever you're getting," he said with a wink. Ah, my Dad was going to play along and not tell my Mom. Which was such a relief because not only did she NOT drink, she also frowned on anyone who DID drink, especially her youngest child.

Well, this bit of acknowledgement from my Dad empowered me to order Manhattans, gimlets, and other grown-up sounding cocktails. Some of the drinks I had never tasted before, and weddings with an open bar seemed like the perfect opportunity to experiment. If I didn't like it, I would simply leave it on the bar. If it tasted okay, I'd bring it back and share it with my Dad.

My last drink was a white Russian, and (for some stupid reason I can't remember) I asked the bartender to make it a strong one. I was on my way back to the table when my Mom came over to me from the dance floor. And she looked awfully thirsty. Eyeballing my drink, she asked me what is was. Because of its white-ish/brown-ish color, I blurted out that is was an iced coffee. My Mom grabbed it from my hand and drank the entire tumbler in two gulps. Uh oh. The jig was up.

Though she caught me red-handed, she never said anything about this incident for almost twenty years. Mom broke her silence a few years ago. We were all together for our annual Christmas Eve party at my parents' apartment and I saw her drinking a glass of red wine. My jaw must have dropped considerably because she laughed at me. "What? Do you want some? It's fruit juice," she said dryly. And we finally talked about that wedding on Long Island and my "iced coffee" drink.


Which brings me back to me laying on the couch. Today I'll have my cold beer and remember how my Mom and I were able to laugh about something that seemed so contentious twenty years before. Time heals old wounds. And I'm hoping that if I'm given enough time I can look back at this period in my life and find some humor in the pain.

Here's to you, Mom.