A Goodbye Post

So much has happened. A brain tumor resulting a lost job and a lot of turmoil. Financial ruin. 3 crashed computers. And we almost lost it all. So what happened to me? Why did I disappear? Well, after the 3rd crash, I could not get a new system due to financial resources. I applied for every job I could and got the same response." Why should we hire you? You got fired from the only RT job you have had?" Because my employer broke labor laws by kicking me while I was down and terminated me while on FMLA for a brain tumor? Nope, not good enough. I was just about to give up. As a matter of fact, I had started to call temp agencies and see if they had any clerical positions available in the area. Anything for money. We were on the brink of losing everything. Then I just made a call to a hospital I knew about from living in Greater Cincinnati. I asked if they were hiring and they said yes, that they desperately needed therapists. I didn't even fill out an application or send a resume. I did those things after my interview. A week later, I was not only employed, but employed at a better facility with a more challenging environment. Now? I love my job. I have just completed the six weeks of departmental orientation they make clinical personnel complete to ensure I know what I am doing. Professional respect is automatic because of the credentials I carry. It is a difference like night and day. I just purchased a new computer and a new SUV. A Dell with enough memory that I do not need to worry about crashes, and a Ford Explorer, respectively. What is going on with my husband? Well that is a long story. He never did hear the results of the waiver for reenlistment into the Army. The recruiter dropped the ball, and when John, after months of no results, finally went over his head, the recruiter got upset and stopped working on it for him. Evan? Well, the kid just started 1st grade. He is doing wonderfully with the academic nature of the work. He had outgrown crayon drawings and baby books a long time ago. Each paper he brings home, from math to English, to spelling, are all perfect. He is still my pride and joy, my soft spot, my biggest downfall, and the source of those white hairs that keep popping up on my head. And we are moving. From the time John and I left Cincinnati, in 2000, I have wanted to go back. It's home. It will always be home. We've lived in Southern Kentucky, and we have lived in Southeastern, Indiana. I have given each of those places my all. But they are not where I belong. And John and Evan...well, they belong with me. For the first time in a long time, I am at a place where I have the ability to go back home. I was afraid to try it before. John and I know that city life can be cruel. If something were to happen and we were to need help, there is no place to turn. But we have been battered and bruised by the other places we have been, also. And we made it through. Together, without anyone else. So we are going to go back to Cincinnati, together. This time around I have an awesome job, and things will be different. I want to see the city lights reflecting in my son's eyes. I want him to grow up with museums, zoos, libraries at his fingertips, and cultural diversity all around him. I want the place that has been a part of me all of my life to become a part of who he is also. So why is this goodbye? When I started Constant Upheaval, it was my way to cope with the idea of my husband going back to the military after being married all of these years. This was my way to vent and speak about what was going on in my life without my words, views, and emotions influencing the decisions John had to make for himself. I no longer need that outlet. Is the military out of our life for good? Never. First of all, the Marine in John is as much a part of him as Cincinnati is of me. I can do away with that no more than the fact that he is a little older than me or that he has brown eyes. And I am so proud of him. Of all of the work he put into reenlistment. I have never seen him work so hard since the first time I laid eyes on him 8 years ago. And I have new respect for his status as a veteran. My husband served his country, and served her very well. I also have more respect for the military families out there. I can honestly say that through the involvement with various support websites, I got a glimpse into the life of a wife of a service member. I just did so with my husband by my side. I will never do these women the disservice of saying that I know what it is like to wonder if your loved one is even alive while thousands of miles away in a war zone. I didn't live through that. That experience is their way of serving their country. But I did worry about John's future safety, knowing he was making a career choice that could result in his death. These men and women of our Armed Forces will forever be in my hearts. They have truly been the most amazing people I have met. There may come a day when I am a service member myself. Before John said the words, "Andi, I want back in. I want to do my part in this war.", I was toying with the idea of a commission in the Navy to be a physician. There are some very impressive programs out there that are hard to pass up. But I also have opportunities to do that as a civilian. So when John told me what his goal was, I gladly stepped away from that so he could go after what he wanted. Now, I have the ability to do it again, and I just might. This would be off in the distance. I have to get myself in shape, take my MCAT and finish my biochemistry degree first. Would I want to do it? Yes, now more than ever. I have met the families of our military, and I can think of nothing more noble than taking care of these men and women. I never did know if I had any readers here on Constant Upheaval. Whne the new computer was set up in the house, I was eager to get back to blogging, but it had been so long that I had forgotten my email and password I used to set up the account. On the old computers, it was set to automatically sign me in when I told it to. I thought my blog was lost forever, and so I started a new blog. Then I remembered the password, but the new blog was already in the works. Which one should I keep and which one should I close? I had a dilemma. But then I thought about it. Constant Upheaval is set up as a milblog. It just did not seem appropriate to continue now that John is not reenlisting. Plus, with the changes in my life, it seemed more fitting to start anew. If, and I mean a big IF, I have any readers or followers, the new blog is called Bending and Not Breaking, and I hope to see you there. Otherwise... Goodbye, Friend.

Full Steam Ahead

My husband returned to me yesterday afternoon with a big smile on his face and some very interesting stories to tell about MEPS. I'll save those for a later date. For now, I'll just say he passed. He made tape. He passed the physical. He is good to go.

Evan's First Night Without Daddy

Last night, as a van pulled away with my husband in it, I was more concerned with how I was going to handle it than I was my son's reaction. Evan is a very resilient little boy, adn most of the time, if one does not make a fuss over the issue, he may not even notice something is amiss. Yesterday was no exception for my baby boy. I allowed him to play outside until 2100, as those lovely summer nights equate to no nightfall until well after bedtime. He waved goodbye to Daddy and continued to play. No problem. But then bedtime hit. Teeth were brushed, jammies were donned, and the boy was tucked in. But then I heard the little footsteps padding down the stairs. Big, fat tears rolling down his little angel face. "Mommy, my Daddy's not here! You have to read me two stories since he isn't here!" His tiny fists held out two story books, and so we read. The tears continued. "Mommy, I can't give Daddy a hug and kiss goodnight!" I offered him a picture frame with a small snapshot of John in it, but this simply would not do. So I zoomed in on a picture of John's face I had saved on the computer, to where it appeared almost life-sized. Evan kissed his Daddy on the screen, but insisted he take the smaller framed picture to bed with him. But then it was "Mommy, I want to sleep in something that reminds me of Daddy." I dug through a basket of clean laundry to offer up a tee for my baby to sleep in, but no. It had to smell like Daddy. So hand-in-hand, Evan and I traipsed up the stairs to locate John's cologne so Evan could smell Daddy while he drifted off to sleep. Before I knew it, all was silent, and I was alone with my thoughts. I missed him.

101

This is the 101st post here on my little blog. Wow! Really? I closed my eyes, typing blindly and made it the 100-post mark. Not such a big deal, right? Well, not so fast. I'm a bit flaky. Pretty persistent in all other aspects of my life. But I get these little short-lived urges to keep journals or memoirs, and I will go to a store somewhere and find these beautiful little journals, and start writing, only to drop it a short while later. When I die, and someone is forced to go through my effects, they will find a plethora of these with short blurbs about my life and my thoughts. Maybe, just maybe, if that individual strings them altogether, he or she will come up with some random sequence. So...Here I am. I've managed to produce 100 posts, which makes me want to give myself a little pat on the back. I've managed to stick with blogging significantly better than I have with physical writing. Which serves as a nice segue into my next issue. How does one produce these blogs that boast hundreds of thousands of visits each week? I'm sure the skill of the blogger has something to do with it. I'm no Hemingway. And this is more for myself anyhow. And I must admit to being technologically impaired. I cannot seem to get my favorites to work on Technorati and blogrolling is lost to me. If I stumble upon a link I like, I do it the old-fashioned way of cutting and pasting the URL in my little list on here. So if any bloggers have stumbled upon my little patch of ground in Cyberland and have any tips, let me know.

He isn't .....

...At MEPS. He called his recruiter yesterday and asked when he was going to be picked up to go, and the recruiter said that there was some sort of problem with paperwork and he wouldn't be going until tonight. So here we go again.

Laziness= Me

Blee-blee-Do-da Blah-blah-blah...... Guess what? I have done nothing today other than the crying jag just completed about 2 minutes ago. I am not even cooking dinner, as our neighbors have decided that tonight is a communal taco night. So when they get home from their daughter's soccer practice, I am going to be consuming other people's food. I have not cleaned. I have not done laundry. I can't even remember if I brushed my hair, though I distinctly remember taking a shower and pulling it back. My husband is leaving tomorrow. He may come back as a committed US Soldier. So I could not care less if the laundry is done. Or the house is clean. All I care about at this point in time is absorbing all of John that I can while he is here by my side. While I can still hear him breathe as we fall asleep together at night. While I can still feel his strong arm's around me and the beat of his heart while we cuddle up to a movie. I feel like my breath is being taken from me. The mundane details will have to wait.

Nothing Quite Like Early-Morning Surfing

Okay, so it is quiet, The alarm has not gone off yet, and I am doing some research into what my husband will be asked to do over the course of the next months/ days/ years/ whatever. Some interesting stuff on Warrior Transition Course: http://www.armystudyguide.com/content/Prep_For_Basic_Training/warrior_transition_course_information/warrior-transition-course.shtml http://www.dix.army.mil/PAO/post05/post092305/WarriorCourse.htm And on Combat Medic, errr 68W Healthcare Specialist Training: http://www.cs.amedd.army.mil/68w/FC&P/FC&P.htm Apparently his training will only be 16 weeks, plus the 4 weeks or so for the Warrior Transition Course. Not too bad, actually. I am pleasantly surprised.