Fall Risk

Six Months

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 16:20:00 +0000

I got my six month chip today. To celebrate, I am doing a Cut and Paste Blog:

Famous Beer Quotes!

Beer and the quotes it has helped create over the years...
I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the
morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day.
-Frank Sinatra
The problem with some people is that when they aren't drunk, they're sober.
-William Butler Yeats
An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools.
-Ernest Hemingway
Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.
-Ernest Hemingway
You're not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on.
-Dean Martin
Drunk is feeling sophisticated when you can't say it.
-Anonymous
No animal ever invented anything as bad as drunkenness - or as good as drink.
-G.K. Chesterton
Time is never wasted when you're wasted all the time.
-Catherine Zandonella
Abstainer: a weak person who yields to the temptation of denying himself a pleasure.
-Ambrose more...

source: http://www.jokebuddha.com/Sober#ixzz2ROjom9y7

Sunday Gratitude

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Sun, 14 Apr 2013 15:48:00 +0000

In the last week I washed the car, mowed the lawn, trimmed the edges, moved a bunch of dirt, built another garden box and moved it, dusted the house and swept the floors.

I've been so busy trying to get this stuff done that I forgot it wasn't that long ago I couldn't do them.

The bill for this physical activity has been coming at night, when the cramps and spasms. Poor Adrienne, the other night she woke up to me pleading, "Help me!"

It is easy to think that being pain-free is a right, when it is really a privilege. Same for mowing the lawn and the other things I mentioned in the first paragraph. I love that I can do these things, including having a rough, painful night without narcotics.

I feel so good right now.

1097

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 13:22:00 +0000

...days since I last worked.

On the plus side, I am feeling much better now, thank you.

Three years ago (yesterday) was the last time I worked and the first time I was hospitalized with CIDP. I hardly think about those days any longer, other than to be grateful they are behind me.

I celebrated by buying some clothes online this morning. Because, evidently, it has been more than three years since I bought any new clothes.

Did I mention I have begun looking for work?

Can't sleep

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Wed, 13 Feb 2013 05:13:00 +0000

I just had the craziest dream. I was 13 years-old and in seventh grade, in English class with some friends of mine-a couple I know from the program. We were not liked by the teacher, she stuck us up in a corner behind some things to isolate us from the class. We tried our best to keep up with the class. I knew this stuff for some reason already.

The teacher forgot to give us the same worksheet that the rest of the class was working on. Since we didn't know her name, I went to the front of the class to ask her for copies of the work. As I walked forward, I started to grow up. By the time I was close enough to talk to her, I was ready to take over the class. Mainly because one thing I know how to do is keep a roomful of seventh graders quiet and in their seats.

Weird, huh?

Anyway, I have been even more lax in writing than usual lately. Here are some pertinent points:

Passed my 90 day mark. 90 days is significant because now we start counting months of sobriety, days no longer.

On the eve of my ninetieth day I was on the floor of the emergency room bathroom throwing up from the pain of a kidney stone. At around 10 I got to see the doctor and explained to him that I was an addict in recovery, so no narcotics for me. They gave me this stuff called Toredal, a “super” anti-inflamatory.

It didn't work.

The effect was like setting fire to a book of matches then trying to put it out with spit..

Even though the pain was horrible, I was worried about compromising my sobriety. I have a problem with narcotics and was afraid to go back into that room. By 3 am, after five hours of struggling with the pain, I was exhausted. I could also feel I was starting to panic: it was getting harder to breath and I could feel my heart beating wildly in my chest. “Fuck it,” I thought, “They make white chips (to start or restart your sobriety) everyday.”

So I literally begged the ER doctor for something stronger. They gave me a shot of Dilaudid and admitted me.

While in the hospital I turned in a job application for an assistant librarian position here in town (my dream job). But yes, I think I am ready to find some work.

BTW I called my sponsor first thing the next morning. He was very reassuring as long as I am under a doctor's care, I did not break my sobriety.

Pretty good vacation

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Wed, 09 Jan 2013 14:08:00 +0000

I am doing this in the back of a moving car, on my phone so it is not going to be pretty.

We are taking Matt and Mercedes to the airport for their trip back to Vermont. Their 10 day visit was really good and all concerned are sad to see it end.

Last night Matt told us that he is seriously considering accepting our offer to move in with us. That would be awesome. I am sure part of that is because he wants to use the amazing workshop he created in the garage.

Picture to follow of that.

We spent the Christmas Eve and Day hunkered down in our grinch cave, wishing that time would pass faster. Gratefully, there were meetings for us to attend.

But when Matt and Mercedes showed up, it really felt like Christmas. That feeling continued throughout their visit because everyday we got to open a present.

60 Days

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Sun, 23 Dec 2012 14:44:00 +0000

There has been much that I have learned in the last 60 days, but I am still having trouble organizing my thoughts.

I guess the biggest thing I have learned is that "My worst day clean and sober is better than my best day using" is not such a cliche after all. I had a shit ton of great times being high and doing cool stuff. But, even at the very best of those times, I knew my search for the BBB would begin again.

BBB stands for Bigger, Better Buzz. Even my best times, what ever they were, I was worrying about the good feeling ending and what I could do to prolong it, recreate it or make it better.

I am glad to be free of that. It is freeing to be here, now and not thinking about what I need to put into my body to improve this moment or make future ones better.

The other day I found a picture of Eloise as a puppy. Her ears are sticking up and she has this really goofy grin on her face..At the bottom, I wrote "Right this moment, I am happy."

Eloise is my personal clown-dog

Sobriety doesn't always make me happy, but it does give me what I need when I need it, which is only in this moment.

30 Days

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Fri, 23 Nov 2012 15:15:00 +0000

30 days since my last drug. Woo Hoo!

The 5,6,7,8s were probably one of the best rock and roll bands EVER

I had been trying for days to remember what we did for Thanksgiving last year (or Christmas, but maybe it will come to me). I didn't know if we stayed here, were someplace else or what.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving and I was grateful to be sober.This is not the life I saw for myself.

The Best is Yet to Come

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Sun, 18 Nov 2012 13:37:00 +0000

I got this in my inbox today:

" Shame and guilt left unaddressed can paralyze us, preventing us from moving forward in our lives. Some of the most meaningful amends we can make for the mistakes of our past are made simply by acting differently today. We strive for improvement and measure our success by comparing who we used to be with who we are now.
Being human, we will continue making mistakes; however, we need not make the same ones over and over again. By looking over our past and realizing that we have changed and grown, we’ll find hope for the future. The best is yet to come."

The less I try to make things fit into my preconceptions, the more they make sense.

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Sat, 17 Nov 2012 20:49:00 +0000

Two things that people often tell me are that I have low self esteem and that I make things too hard for myself. So, when I saw that the next group was going to be on shame and guilt, I prepared myself for a grim and fruitless struggle with my guilty conscience knowing I would never be free from the bondage of my shame.

When I think about my shame and guilt, it is through a lens of what (I think) a healthy, normal person would have done, not someone with the disease of addiction. That is how sneaky it is; we addicts are more comfortable seeing ourselves as mean spirited, lying, manipulating, stealing, evil minded selfish monsters than admitting we are sick people. People who, if we were in our right minds, would never have done the messed up stuff we did while in our addiction's sway.

And it was our loved ones that got the worst of it; their love and trust was a great resource for helping feed our addictions. But that addiction is an illness. Instead of attacking on a cellular level like other illnesses, addiction clouds our judgement and makes us susceptible to making bad choices.

Emotions like guilt and shame are useful only because they warn us that other people can have real consequences of our behavior. In order to stop me from hurting other people, I built a jail and lined the walls with my shame and guilt.

Our facilitator asked if, since we got clean, were we still doing shameful things? I can honestly say that in the last 24 days, I have not. I did those shameful things because I am sick, not because I am a bad person. I am a pretty decent fellow, capable of loving and being loved, respecting of others and worthy of their respect.

Alcoholics and addicts in recovery strive to change their behavior first, then their thinking. Next, we are urged to "clean house" by examining our old bvehavior, especially those behaviors that affected others and making amends to them.

I have been sick for a long time, not just the last few years. My drinking and drug use has always been irresponsible since I was 19 (the drinking age in Ohio in 1983). One of the things that has motivated me these last 3 weeks is that I have 20 years of amends to make.

In movides and TV,when ever some goes into recovery from addiction, they immediately begin to make a series of awkward and insincere amends. They are apologies are for their benefit only, "I don't want you to be angry at me any longer." or their amends are simply thinly disguised resentments.

Right now, I am working to get better. Until then, I won't be able to process and appreciate my responsibility in my actions. Only then, will I feel worthy of asking you for forgiveness.

Until then, every day that I don't use, I get stronger and my disease gets weaker.

Lost

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Fri, 09 Nov 2012 11:40:00 +0000

"No one's ever lost forever

When they die they go away

But they will visit you occasionally

Do not be afraid

No one's ever lost forever

They are caught inside your heart

If you garden them and water them

They make you what you are"

from the song "Lost" by Amanda Palmer and the Grand THeft ORchestra from the album Theater is Evil

Baby Punching

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Fri, 09 Nov 2012 00:10:00 +0000

After the election, I saw that America had made a definite step towards legalizing marijuana . Personally, I have always thought that our laws about marijuana were archaic, expensive and had nothing to do with protecting us from ourselves. It was kind of cool to think aobut an America where dope was legal (and, what the hell, taxed) until I realised that I probably would not be joining in the celebration.

Then I was mad. Here it was, two weeks after I stopped using, and my dreams of legal highs were taken away. For my facebook status, I posted that I was angry enough to punch a baby.

I remember when people used to tell me that they never knew what I would say next. But I had been so busy trying to people please, hide my addiction and everything else, that saying outrageous things where no longer a part of my life. It was good to see a glimpse of the old me.

I said, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Wed, 07 Nov 2012 19:32:00 +0000

There were no beds for me at the local detox place, so I ended up doing it from the "comfort" of home. Mark Renton, the heroin addict protagonist of Irvine Welsh's novel Trainspotting, describes the relationship between opioids and ourselves as floating on a beautiful sea:

"This internal sea. The problem is that this beautiful ocean carries with it loads ay poisonous flotsam and jetsam... that poison is diluted by the sea, but once the ocean rolls out, it leaves the shite behind, inside ma body. It takes as well as gives..."

I consider myself fortunate that my withdrawal only lasted about 72 hours, 60 of them on the toilet. But when I woke up on the fourth day, the second thing that popped in my head (the first was a realisation that I didn't have to run to the bathroom) was "Oh no, I have to be sober all day!"

That was a week ago Monday. I spent the day dashing form metting to meeting, talking to everyone at the meetings I could, making phone calls, etc. Their responses were unanimous: Go to rehab.

I miss Amy Winehouse

Actually, what they told me was that getting into a program was an invaluable asset to their lives. I don't think that "You need to do this!" or "You need to do that!" statements are much a part of AA and NA thinking.

It took another assessment and a doctor visit, but I started yesterday. I am required to go to 12 hours of groups per week, work one on one with a therapist there, be seen by the big kahuna every Monday and Friday, submit to random drug screens and have my sheet signed at AA and NA meetings.

It is not as arduous as it sounds. In fact, the hardest task is remaining open minded and honest. I went to a men's group today and when the therapist announced that pain was going to be today's subject, there was a deafening "Guk" sound as we all tried to swallow our emotions. But it was a safe place and we all listened and shared supportively.

There is a lot more that I want to write about, but I am getting very tired now, that ole' CIDP is still asking for its sleep tax.

Update

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Mon, 29 Oct 2012 09:53:00 +0000

It has been five days since my last narcotic. I just finished my first night good night's sleep in nearly a week. When I say good, I mean pain free (without drugs).

Now what am I supposed to do?

The bed at a detox never appeared, but I got it on medical advice that I was pretty well through it. Detoxing is a physical process where the body begins to readjust to live without massive chemical influx it has been deluged with for X amount of time. It is different from treatment or rehab (I learned).

Detoxing is relatively brief compared to the longer hospital stays for treatment. I have heard some people share about being in their second year of treatment. I realized I was unclear about that in my last post (as I was in my own head).

Which brings the fact that there is a lot about this process (I guess I can call it recovery?) that I do not know.

I found this yesterday, seems apropos:

N.A. 3rd Step Prayer

Take my will & my life,

Guide me in my recovery,

Show me how to live.

Decisions Decisions

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Sat, 27 Oct 2012 14:08:00 +0000

I ran into Ella's favorite groomer yesterday. She greeted me with a smile and told me she had a dream about me recently. I said that women always tell me that (leaving out that it is usually in nightmares).

She had something very serious on her mind that she wanted to share about a big decision she had made. With the support of her fiance, she was quitting her job. She had faith that this was the right thing to do, but it was scary because she did not know what the next step would be. "It might be the worst decision I ever made," she said.

I don't usually talk about program adages with non-fellowship people, but recently I had asked in an Al-anon meeting about making difficult situations, so I had an answer at the ready: we make decisions all the time and if it turns out we made a bad one, we can make a new one. She thanked me by saying that was just what she needed to hear! Imagine my joy!

See, I have been feeling really low (and agitated, and anxious and depressed with insomnia...) lately. Right now I am waiting on an open bed at a detox facility here in Statesboro. I made that choice after spending several days going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings (and saying those famous words, "My name is Michael and I am a drug addict and alcoholic.") EVERYONE I talked to says the same thing (this includes drug and alcohol counselors, doctors, nurses, and plenty of people who have been where I am now): for my safety, I should go in-patient to a medically supervised detox facility.

How I got to that point is not important and I am tired of telling it to everyone anyway. Suffice it to say that my dependence on my prescribed, narcotic painkillers has gotten far enough out of hand to scare me. My drug addiction not only was affecting me physically and mentally, but my loved ones.

I had started the process of trying to control their use months ago when I went to the pain specialist. It did not help and all my other attempts to control them. All these had one thing in common (besides failure): Me, acting alone.

Time to call in reinforcements. Once again, I am powerless and need help, not just for my health, but also to repair my life and mend the damage I made in other's lives.

The Moon is Beautiful

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Wed, 12 Sep 2012 09:10:00 +0000

4:30 in the morning. It is nice and cool outside, I can see the quarter moon from my back porch over Georgia Highway 67.

A year after Natasha died, I decided I didn't want to be crazy any longer. Coincidentally, it was also at 4:30 am that I had this epiphany.

I started going back to Alanon meetings. At last night's meeting the topic was acceptance. Halfway through the meeting, I shared that, so far, we had been talking about acceptance in terms of alcohol and the alcoholics in our lives, straight from the first step. But I was thinking about the Serenity prayer. In the first third of it, we say God grant me the serenity to accept the things we cannot change.

Acceptance is a gift. And it is a gift that we constantly have to ask God for. I quit asking after Natasha's death. It was too painful to revisit that everyday, sometimes many times in one day. I felt I would be better off just struggling through. It was not that I thought I could do it better on my own, I just didn't think I could do it at all.

That was kind of like turning up the radio, rolling down the windows, flooring the gas pedal and taking my hands off the steering wheel. As much fun as it is to do that, it never ends well.

One year ago today

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Sun, 02 Sep 2012 18:27:00 +0000

Natasha Suarez

January 8, 1986-September 2, 2011

I don't know why God took you from me. But knowing would not replace the pain of your absence.

Labor Day Weekend

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Sat, 01 Sep 2012 16:57:00 +0000

Adrienne, driving by, trying to find a parking place

I am waitingat Vinnie van Gogo's Pizza in Savannah while Adrienne park's the car . There is a certain incongruity in the atmosphere. The wraith like waitstaff stalk around the tables on their fleshy, ink covered stilts from Hell legs, their Betty Page bangs slick with sweat of the humid Savannah air. Danzig era Misfits (from a cassette!) drifts from the sound system in the bar, adding a 1980s-ish, punk/hardcore cachet to the ambiance. Inside the bar looks like the bar where I saw him perform with Samhain. The bar and tables are surrounded by customers wearing University of Georgia jerseys, the women sporting shiny, golden open-toed sandals with bright pedicures and men in crisp denim and khaki shorts.

Mercedes often strikes a similar pose

There is an attitude of tough, almost aloof like behavior from the crew that works here. The hostess cautions the Ralph Lauren clad older couple next to me, "The waitress may be a few minutes, but she is here." When she arrives, she is solicitous and congenial. Obviously, she isn't so hardcore that she doesn't have bills to pay.

Issac seems to have moved on after having done its damage to Louisiana. This time last year, Hurricane Irene had mysteriously made it's way all the way to Vermont, resulting in extensive flooding, damaging or destroying many of Vermont's historic and beautiful covered bridges, cutting off several rural towns and causing at least three deaths.

During the days of high winds and down pour, Natasha was struggling to get treated for the pain and stiffness in her neck. Sent home from the emergency room of the hospital in Middlebury with pain killers, she resorted to calling 911 and was taken by ambulance to the hospital at Fletcher-Allen Healthcare, in Burlington. By the time it was discovered she had an abscess in her spine, the hole in her spine that should not have been there had done a pretty thourough job of flooding her system with infectious sewage.

Without medical attention, the body's weapons against infection are few, fever and flooding. As her temperature rose, Natasha's began producing copious amounts of fluids and opening up its capillaries. She began to fill up with bacteria and white blood cells and rotten tissue, casualties of the war going on inside her. With her internal roadblocks removed, the infection took advantage of the increased avenues of access to rapidly escalate its attack on her. Her lungs quickly filled up the excess fluids.

The ICU doctor told us that her lungs were so filled with fluid that they were invisible on the X-rays, like someone had used white out to remove them from the picture.

Even if she could have gotten oxygen into the lungs, Natasha's blood was so full of infected cells that it couldn't carry enough to sustain her. Her system was so delicate that the shock of trying to move her for an MRI to pinpoint the abscess that had turned her body into a toxic sewer was too much and her heart stopped.

Thank you, Jesus

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Thu, 16 Aug 2012 23:07:00 +0000

finally, after months of debating and researching we brought home our new dog. He is a young adult, weighs 13 pounds and is quite shy. Eloise and Thor welcomed him in their own ways. Now he is enjoying exploring his new home.

In other news, I wiggled my big toes for the first time since I got sick.

Pet Adoptions

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Thu, 09 Aug 2012 16:35:00 +0000

We are looking to add another dog to our menagerie. When I was a kid, dad took me to the local pound, I picked out a pooch, he payed the fee and we went home.

Not so simple these days.

Here is the essay I wrote for one local adoption agency:

We have been married since 1996. Michael brought a dog, Bessie, and a cat, Nuit, to our relationship. We got a cocker spaniel as a wedding gift from a lovely couple in our church. Our daughter got her own cat, Olivia. All of our pets have lived long lives, 15+.

When Bessie suffered a debilitating stroke and had to be put to sleep, it became apparent that Franny, the cocker, suffered hardest without her. She became incontinent and destructive to the furniture, unusual for her. One day our daughter brought home Eloise and Frannie's anxiety driven behaviors vanished.

We had to put Frannie to sleep last fall when her arthritis began to have a serious impact on her life.

Our pets have always been treated as part of the family-receiving regular dr. visits, vaccinations, grooming, etc. We closely supervise them, their activity level and diets. We have a saying, "Anyday that the dogs are tired out, was a good day."

All our pets are indoor animals; the cats never go out and we have a large fenced in yard.

Pets, especially dogs, are examples of God's unconditiional love and we strive to treat them as His creations and gifts to us. Their presence in our lives has been a great blessing, providing comfort and companionship in the good and bad times. They teach us how to make room in our lives for things other than ourselves and the importance of providing care and nurturing other living things (and the planet).

On Being a TAB

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Tue, 24 Jul 2012 18:11:00 +0000

I love the church we joined, it has been an amazing experience for me. However, going to a Methodist church in a red state is an experience unlike anything I had seen previously in my swinging, hippy liberal churches in the north.

But when in fellowship, God's love is present, flowing through everyone and to us all. Way better than intermission at a Dead show.

There is one couple that Adrienne and I had a bond with from the very first time we saw them because she is the primary care giver to the husband, who late in life became afflicted with a debilitating, chronic illness that affects his nerves. There was a period when they thought he would never leave the hospital, let alone walk again.

But he proved them wrong. He gets around with his walker and motorized wheelchair and has a daily exercise regime that is truly impressive. He spends hours everyday, either at the gym or in the pool, working out. She, of course, is tasked with the things he cannot do for himself. She told us about the many steps she has to go through whenever they travel; on over night trips, she has to repeat the process every morning before they can leave the hotel.

Today he shared that he has suddenly lost a significant amount of strength in his legs; this is never good news. Even though even though he didn't sound upset or even concerned, I felt alarm for him and his wife.

Of course, I quickly realized that that is going to happen to me someday. I mean, happen to us.

For a while there, I used to rail at the TABs (Temporarily Able Bodied), but I stopped when I rejoined their ranks. Most of the time, I take it for granted that I will never be paralised again. The weight of that knowledge is too much to carry around everyday.

Much Overdue Update; My New Equipment

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Sat, 21 Jul 2012 13:47:00 +0000

Remember the $6 Million Dollar Man? I feel like him today with all my new prosthesis and what not.

This is my CPAP (Continuous positive airway pressure) machine. It forces air down through my nose to keep my airways open, used to help reduce sleep apnea. My neurologist believe my difficulty sleeping is the cause of my exhaustion.

I am still learning how to use it, it's pretty uncomfortable to wear.

Yay! New Ankle-Foot Orthotics. My pain doctor believes that the my pain is caused by the way I walk. She sent me back to physical therapy and prescribed new orthotics and a TENS (Transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation ) machine. These new AFOs are hinged at the ankle, allowing me to move my foot like the TABs. That flexibility in the ankle is pretty weird, I am having to relearn how to walk. Aside from the new aches from unused muscles, I am taking to them pretty fast.

The TENS (Transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation ) machine applies electric stimulation to my nerves in pain spots. I don't know why it works, but it does. The electric shocks take a bit of getting used to, but using an hour a day has caused the pain in my hips to practically disappear.

Midnight Salad

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Thu, 19 Jul 2012 05:05:00 +0000

At midnight last night, Mercedes, my grand daughter, climbed into bed like a cat; I nearly kicked her in the face to get rid of her. Since I am a big baby about getting woken up, I decided to the best way to get back to sleep would be a self induced food coma.

Inspired by the salad I had my friend Stacy's house (Stacy does everything wonderfully), the refrigerator was stocked with all sorts of salad goodies, including an avocado, kalamata olives, and some Irish Pub Cheese (a substitute for the mozzarella balls in olive oil).

Putting about a third of one half of the avocado, about half a dozen olives, several thin slices of cheese that I chopped into bits into a bowl and a handful of romaine lettuce I sprinkled a few drops of lime juice, and olive oil onto my salad. Lastly, I went to the spice cabinet and added a little salt and some mint flakes (I could not find any oregano or basil, could we be out?!).

A quick toss in the bowl and I dug in. It was exactly what I wanted, salty, with a little sweet and cool for kicks. Because avocados are so difficult to keep, we seldom have them and I had forgotten how much I love their nut-like flavor.

Of course the salt and even saltier olives left me craving something sweet-my answer to that was a B & B nightcap.

Sadly, an hour after she woke me up and just as I was finishing typing the above paragraph, Mercedes crawled back into bed with us.

In other news, I have been going back to physical therapy to help manage my pain, plus I have a slew of new equipment to show off, which I plan to write about soon.

Another song I can't listen to without crying...

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Sat, 02 Jun 2012 23:49:00 +0000

Watch "Cat Stevens - Morning Has Broken" on YouTube

today was because the gravestone setting for Natasha's plot. The group that gathered together in the rain included Adrienne and her family from Boston, Matt, Mercedes,a large group of Nataha's friends and what of our closest friends could make it.

The pastor read a great poem that made me realize it was time to stop thinking about the awful things and start celebrating the gift that was Natasha's life.

I had to turn away when we sang "Morning has Broken.“ Afterwards, Mercedes gave everyone present a rock to place on the gravestone; I am keeping mine.

I was so grateful to see so many of Natasha's friends come. Her friends were one of the most important things in her life. These very beautiful young woman demonstrated to us how they have inspired so much loyalty as they comforted us and gave us some of Natasha's love. Then they made us laught by telling stories about her teen years

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The First of June

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Fri, 01 Jun 2012 15:47:00 +0000

I have been having lots of fun in Vermont. My friends in Brattleboro not only fed and sheltered, they gave me lots intellectual stimulation. My two days there were full of the invogorating discussions, witty and fastaced, that I love so much.

But now the work of putting the final touches on Natasha's final resting place have to be dealt with.

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Physical Therapy

noreply@blogger.com (Michael Williams) — Tue, 22 May 2012 15:26:00 +0000

In PT today I learned that the young, cute lil southern belle with the darling accent is really possessed by the demon Pazuzu. I realized this as she stood over me, screaming, "Are you going to cry like a little girl? Are you my little bitch?" while cracking her ID lanyard like a whip. Then she vomited green bile over me.

This is the first time I ever cried in PT.