The Peace Lily


The Peace Lily. The plant of peace and comfort. The plant you see at every single funeral. The only plant in my house that has survived my neglect.
Someone sent this Peace Lily to my Dad’s service almost two years ago. I had to have it. I just knew it was a piece of him. A piece of that day. I also know my father found it extremely hilarious that I was taking a plant home, only for it to fall victim just like the others.
This plant was beautiful! It had blooms all over it when I brought it home. I know it sounds stupid, but this plant DID bring peace and comfort during such a tough time. It was alive and beautiful and thriving. Call me crazy, but it did.
It didn’t take long and the blooms were gone. I tried to stay diligent taking care of this plant. I have developed an attachment to. Just a weird grief thing.
For almost two years now, this plant hasn’t bloomed…not even once. Everyday I would inspect it and look for any hints of a possible bloom. Everyday I was disappointed. Yesterday I looked and THERE IS A BLOOM! Yes, it’s one bloom but it is the most beautiful bloom that I have ever laid my eyes on. I can thank my husband for taking over the care for this plant. He was probably so sick and tired of hearing me complain that the plant isn’t growing. It isn’t blooming. It doesn’t like me.
Two Easters ago was my father’s last holiday, his last hoorah. He hid eggs for my little ones while in excruciating pain. He told them all about the Easter Bunny. He made their day! He made my day! We made his day! We didn’t know that day that he would only be with us for another month but we acted as if it were our last minute together. Especially my stoic father.
Is it ironic that this plant of peace and comfort is blooming for the first time, right at Easter? Is it ironic that the weeping tree we planted when my dad passed away, was in full bloom when I returned home from staying with my mother in the hospital? Again, call me crazy, ( I don’t mind ) but I think NOT! It is anything but irony. It is him. It is my Dad. It is my Dad bringing me peace and comfort during this especially tough time of year.
Someone once told me that when you lose a person you love or that was special to you and you see, hear, smell or touch anything and it reminds you of them…they are right there with you. Those things that you see, hear, smell, taste and touch are all ways of our loved ones to remind us they are forever with us. It’s up to us to pay attention to the signs.
So yes, this plant, the Peace Lily is my Dad. The weeping cherry tree we planted in memory of him that was in full bloom JUST IN TIME for me to see, is my Dad. When I laugh, it is my Dad. When I cry, he cries too. This plant, the Peace Lily, is blooming and so is my Dad! ❤️

May the MRSA Be With You

Once again, I have neglected my blog. I think I have a pretty valid excuse this time. It wasn’t the crippling depression this time. It has been an eventful last few weeks, to say the least.
I don’t even really know where to begin. It never ends with the bad luck. My mother was put in the hospital for aspiration pneumonia. This is something she will battle for the rest of her life, not to mention her emphysema. She aspirates in her sleep and wakes up literally choking on stomach acid. She was hospitalized for almost a week. Of course I never left her side. Her oxygen levels would dip to 83 at times. Normal oxygen levels run between 94-100. It was scary, I’m not going to lie. She has been back to the doctor since, and has new pneumonia along with the previous infection. She is sick of being sick and was ready to give up in the hospital. My dad visited her one night in a dream. He sat on the hospital bed and told her it wasn’t time. She had no choice but to enjoy the time she has left.
The day she was admitted I was having a major acne attack on my chin, or so I thought. She asked me what the hell that was on my chin. I jokingly told her that I was growing a tumor. It’s a huge pimple, along with 100 more… that’s what it is. She talked me into popping it during her luxurious stay in the hospital. It was painful and had tons of pressure behind it. That may be too much information, but it is an important part of this disgusting tale.
I was back home and back into the grind of being a stay at home mom. I was happy to be home with my darlings. They seem to always know how to cheer me up. My chin progressively got worse. I put it off to menopause at the time. I am only 34 but had a hysterectomy at 31. I honestly thought it was exactly that. I just couldn’t figure out why only my chin looked like pepperonis gone bad.
I woke up on a Saturday morning and my lip looked like someone caught me off guard and knocked the living shit out of me. The pressure behind it was so painful. I went between heat and ice trying to get the infection out and calm the swelling. I did this for 4 hours. It was still just nasty. Again, I put it off to cellutitis, deep acne under the skin. My husband was just getting home from work when I woke up and he couldn’t believe my face. First thing he said was MRSA. I laughed and jokingly agreed.
The swelling and pressure started again that afternoon. I started googling MRSA images. I know when you google symptoms it will make anyone think they are dying. As soon as the images popped up, I knew that’s exactly what it was. I flipped out and went to urgent care. They confirmed it and gave me 2 antibiotics and pain medicine. You can’t make this shit up.
MRSA is a staph infection that is resistant to most antibiotics. Only a handful will treat it. Once you get MRSA, you have it forever. I have had it once before after my hysterectomy. You aren’t contagious forever but it never leaves, just goes dormant. It is extremely painful. I would rather have a baby, no shit! I went to see my primary doctor that Monday to follow up. He gave me stronger pain meds and ointment for the entire family to put inside their noses.
It was degrading, humiliating and just plain awful. After all, it is my face!! I was in hiding for an entire week. People would step back when I was around. I don’t blame them. I was a walking infectious disease. From now on, I will know that any open wounds are very susceptible to turn into MRSA.
So where did I possibly pick it up again? Was it the hospital? Was it the gym? MRSA lives everywhere. We can thank the overuse of antibiotics and that lovely staple that most of us use every 15 minutes, hand sanitizer. The MRSA was definitely with me. It is still visible but finally clearing up. I still have a few days left on the antibiotics that make me sick to my stomach. It’s not fun!
Through all if this, I never once let depression consume me. I fought it like hell and proud to say that this time I won. What a huge accomplishment!! Maybe the pain medication helped that. You can’t beat the Percocet, just sayin. 😉
Don’t ever doubt or think that it won’t happen to you. Wash your hands, throw away the hand sanitizer and don’t jump to the doctor with a sniffly nose. Overusing antibiotics is only bound to create yet another super bug. Us MRSA carriers would deeply appreciate it. Not only would we appreciate it, we will love you. 😊