Life Happens

Have you ever tried to apologize for something and it all comes out so screwed people think you're worse than when you started? Welcome to my day.

I couldn't fix the couch the way he liked. That's how this all started. Right now I'm ready to run my fist through a wall... had I not tried that only 2 months ago. Hurts a lot more than the emotional pain.

Then he said something and while I heard him, I didn't respond. I was edgy from the way he'd reacted over the couch, and the comment was about a show I was watching on TV... a statement I agreed with. I didn't realize that this silent treatment was the same as the ones he has already complained about.

I hate conflict; I'd do anything to avoid it. Instead I ended up accidentally instigating myself into a black hole.

I wrote an apology for my part and went for a walk.

"I am tired.
I am sorry that I'm so inconsiderate.
I am sick of feeling like my brain is defective. (add-in: does God take returns?)
I am irritated that you're always right.
I hate that my feeling inadequate makes you get down on yourself.
I don't hate you, just your attitude sometimes.
I don't look down on you or ride a high horse,
those times you've said I have, have been times I felt the lowest.

"I love you.
You're everything to me.
You hold me when I cry, give direction when I have none.
You love me when it seems like no one else will.
You make me want to be better than I am. (add-in: or hope to be)

"You have all of my apologies and all of my pride.
Neither of us are perfect, but I still think we're perfect for each other.
Even now."

I came back afterwards to more of the same BS. We yelled. I excused myself from a trip to help his parents. We yelled more. I sat. I cried more.

Some of the things I had blurted out may have been more than just angry ranting. I am a depressed person. Not all the time, not to the point of instability anymore, but I do feel like garbage compared to my excelling fiance. Some of my ramblings included quips like:

"You're always right... You can find hard evidence for any argument we get into... I can't remember anything... We fight over the same things because of my inability to rationally deal with conflict... When we fight your always think I'm trying to make you the bad guy... Do you think I like it that I ignore you without realizing it? That I make the man I love feel like crap? It kills me..."

Perhaps I'm no better than the school-yard bully. Maybe I'm so mired down with my own feelings of stupidity, worthlessness and self-loathing that I transfer those feelings onto Craig. I assume he feels all those things for me, and when he gets angry, it validates those feelings.

He thinks I'm stupid, unattractive, unworthy of him. Who could blame him.

Oh... okay, none of that's TRUE... but it all seems to add up. And throw on to that the mean things that get said during any lover's quarrel and it's a recipe for emotional turmoil. And then his yet un-apologized quote from last weeks tiff rings through my ears:

"You're just like your mother. The sad part is, you don't see it."

And then I get angry again. More crying.

The tears dry.

I catch my breath.

I realize he may be right, although that doesn't excuse the way or intent that came with the way he said it. Hurting the one you love is NEVER okay. But if the hurt wasn't intentional, if it can be worked through and made right, then it can make you stronger.

I just hate the waiting in between. I guess it's a down day, today. But that's a-okay. Life happens.

Things are coming along!

Well, more resumes made their way into employers hands and the house has been cleaned. With the major chores out of the way (and a local interview under my belt), we took Conall to Station Beach to learn how to have fun in the water. Set to Pete Townsend's, "Let My Love Open The Door" it was an adorable kodak moment!

home sweet, sweet home.

If you can reach Nirvana...

I am in heaven here.

Granted, I'm not working yet so life is pretty stress free, but am I ever at home in this small town.

I don't have tones of time to write as we are getting the 'net next week, but in the meantime, know I made it here, I'm happier than ever and the pets are thrilled to have so much room to run around.

This is where I'm meant to be. I think it may be genetic.

Life here is honest. I love it.

We're packing up and moving on!

Well we're getting ready to pack up the Uhaul and load our things for the big journey. No more being crushed on the TTC, no more being hit by said Transit vehicles, no more stress from our slum lords or stepping in dog crap in our hallway. No more. We're cashing in and getting out.

I can't wait to see how the next few days will go. I'm sure they'll be stress, maybe even name calling. But 3 bedrooms and a yard is a wonderful bonus. Get me outta here! Let's blow this popcicle stand!

It's all so bizarre!

Most of my worldly possessions are in boxes. Craig and I are preparing for Tuesday's move ahead of schedule, since we'll be picking up the moving truck a day ahead of time.

For the past few days we've split our time between hanging out watching documentaries, arguing over the state of Tibet on Facebook and rooting through our things, sorting the movable from the trash.

I gave my old, "fat" clothes to the Value Village and gave my fish to a 10 year old girl. I've thrown out 4 garbage bags of things from my past that aren't necessary for me to have anymore. The things I've kept have been sorted and packed into labelled boxes - just so they'll be easier to relocate.

Our poor pets think the world is coming to an end. Little do they know they're making the long journey with us!

Our friends are throwing a BBQ to say goodbye. Proof that while I may be over this city, it's home to people I'll miss dearly.

I love all the opportunity that the next few days hold. The excitement of a new chapter begining. The start of something big. It's daunting and even little frightening, but it'll be worth it in the end.

ArrivaderLa!

Things are coming along... :-) FINALLY!

Welcome to my house... Okay, it's Max Rybinski's house... but we rent it! :-)

Oh, happy day! Kincardine, here I come!!!

Okay it's been a while... again...

See, here's the thing, moving last minute is hard.

Not to mention I've been approached to model for a friend's clothing line, our dog is getting neutered in two days, I just gave away two gold fish I had for 4 years, we're trying to close a deal on a three-bedroom townhome and of course there's the normal headaches that come with packing all of your belongings and throwing others out (or in my case giving them to charity).

We've bought a bike, I'm days away from going to get my G1 and the house has turned into a pig sty.

I can't wait to blow this popcicle stand. I'm so over this city.

...nor can I wait to know what my new address is going to be... this is killing me!

All I can say...

Out with a whimper.

So today mom came by with a cheque for us. Things from my grandmother's house were there and she had the cheque in hand. Everything seemed like it might be okay. Like we could meet quickly, in passing, like fish in a pond.

But the second the money went into my hand, she started in on the same old song. I said it wasn't the time for talking about that, I was just trying to be in her presence and get through it. But we kept talking, and she kept pressing, and she left with the last word like everytime before, "Tell Craig, 'I'm being a parent'". It's these quips that say otherwise.

The need to constantly defend.

That's why I can only write angry letters and beg only when I'm at my most desperate and vulnerable... because any attempt to 'just talk' gets spun around. I can't come to her in confidence, I can't be open about anything in my life.

Everything she knows of me is a lie I kept on to keep her happy. And she only today realized how hard I worked to keep it on for so long.

I REALLY don't know what's going to happen now. I don't hate her anymore. I pity her.

Swallowing Pride...

Dear Mom,

I won’t touch our old issues now, they’re not as important as you knowing how I’m doing.

If you want a chance to help me better my life for the positive, here it is:

Attached are the letters of complaint we have filed over and over with our building (just so you know it’s not all “Megan being overly dramatic”). We have been treated so badly, I’ve come to see the only way you can be treated well in this city is if you’re rich. ...And I don’t want to be rich, nor wealthy. But I’m trying desperately to be happy. And how close we are...

Aside from the threats on our personal safety, having to call the cops on other tenants and having no proper fire protection or functioning heater all winter, Craig and I are wonderfully happy together. I don’t know how I would have survived the past few months without him. We have wonderful friends in the area, too.

I now have a job that pays the bills, Craig is on E.I. with a broken hand and we’re making it day by day. Conall is healthy and well. The cats are still enjoying the space here. Life and my heart are in good stead, but my soul is being crushed in this city. I’ve been saying I wanted out for a long time, before I even met Craig if you’ll recall – and I know you remember the family laughed at me for it... so I’m really hoping you won’t do that now.

We are now nearing desperate to leave this city for Kincardine. Craig’s parents don’t seem to like the idea too much, but Craig is looking to work at the Power Plant and I have been submitting resumes with their doctors (they’ve been recruiting to the area), dentists and vets.

The obvious issue is we can’t do it on our budget and with the building’s holding company treating us like we’re the problem, my home has become a place that makes me feel worse, rather than better. It’s not a safe haven, it’s a lobster trap. It’s undoing all the good I’ve done with Dr. Madigan so far.

I’ve been taking more sedatives than I should, practically dependant on them just to be able to be calm enough to focus on watching TV (mostly due to the tenant who threatened us). I’m learning how to use the Bokken (think: big long stick) in self defence. It’s been great for my confidence, but I would’ve rather learned under less stressful circumstances.

I’m sure you can imagine how degraded I feel begging you for help when I’ve been so cold for so long. But I also can’t condone Craig taking money from his parents off their line of credit when they’re still paying off their 2nd mortgage and putting Paul through University... all of this off their pensions.

Since the “formal” wedding has been indefinitely scrapped, I’m asking you for a portion of the money you offered to us to help us start a real home life together in a place where we can be safe and start our family together - NO I’M NOT PREGNANT, SO DON’T PANIC!

It kills me that this is my first non-angry letter to you, but I guess I’m holding up faith that the Mom instinct in you is still there. I couldn’t blame you if you say no or ignore me entirely, but after our lives together, I’m hoping you can accept that I have to cut my own path in life, and right now, I need your help to clear some of the clutter away.

If you choose to write or call me back, I’m not the same person I was when we last spoke. I won’t lie to you about things you don’t want to hear and I won’t hide who I am anymore for the sake of appearances. Ignorance isn’t bliss when it comes to the people we love.

I love the woman I am now; I just hope you can love her, too.

Although it’s against my better judgement to say anything, while I’ve made lots of positive progress without you in my life these past few months, it’s also been some of the most painful times of my life. To turn my back on someone who I couldn’t breathe a bad word about a year ago was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. ...Perhaps with the exception of having to write this.

I’ll be waiting for word from you, whatever it is. Just like it’s my life, it’s also your money to do with as you will. All I can do is ask.

Now with a heavy heart,
Megs.

Just when you think you're out...

Canadian Tire sends you a $100 gift certificate for trying to use their gift registry. What a happy little surprise!

It all went to Conall's belated birthday gifts (see my you tube account, bottom right), but at a year old and over 100lbs, our big boy deserved some spoiling.

The new food he's on has worked wonders for his tummy, too. Let's just say cleaning up is a lot easier than it once was.

Our baby is growing up!

Life goes on.

Well, I'm back at work, or at least I have a job. I've been off for two days with a fever and ear ache... I thought only kids got ear infections!!! Being at a place in the private sector is so nice. Less red tape, better functionality, better quality of care... I actually feel like I can make a difference... what a concept.

On the pet front, we're looking at getting another dog to play with Conall. Ideally, we're trying to get one out of the Humane Society who need the help emptying their cages. We're not flush with cash, but Conall will need a friend once Craig is back at work and our hearts still have a little more love to give.

The meds are keeping me in check for now and I'm happy to be living again. Making friends again. Feeling alive again. It was a hard road and caused me to estrange myself from my family, but I'm doing so much better.... I feel like a different, better person, now.

On the "home" front, we're likely looking for a new one as our building has degenerated to a typical Dupont Lansdowne slum. People are letting their dogs defecate in the hallways and despite trying to have this resolved since last December, it keeps happening and with greater frequency. It's beyond nasty. To make things worse our landlord is incompetent and the building management won't reprimand her, even though they've expressed similar feelings about her. Bizarre.

And Craig's hand is so badly deformed it's likely he'll need surgery. We found out the doctors at TWH set it at a 35 degree angle. The tech's at St. Joe's, with a little help from anaesthetic managed to re-break and set it at 25 degrees. Still, the orthopaedist says surgery is now likely. This has made my case against UHN all the stronger.

Still, in all of this, life goes on. And I think I'm all the stronger for it.

Is Toronto Western Hospital Functionally Retarded???

After writing University Health Network's CEO, Dr. Robert 'Bob' Bell for help in dealing with their patient relations department, I received this black-berried response:

"thank you for your note. I will refer your concerns to our Patient RelationsDepartment.
Yours truly,
Bob Bell"

The gods must be crazy for letting these doctors work together. The right hand doesn't know what the left ass-cheek is doing!

I mean, you forward the letter to the people who made me write you directly in the first place! In the words of Peter Griffin, "COME AWWWWWWWWN !!!!"

I am some kind of serious pissed. Especially considering I just came back from ANOTHER E.R. visit, this time to St. Joseph's Health Centre (which is wonderful, by the way). There they acted like we weren't the first to go there for a second opinion from UHN. I wish I could say that surprised me. But it did make sense. And now, Craig may very well need surgery... and if that happened to Craig because of the way it was set or casted, I feel badly for the people I'll be hunting down like dogs.

My response to Dr. Bell's letter:

Dear Dr. Bell,

I received your response this morning, thank you for taking the time over the weekend to update us.

However, had you read my entire email you would see I have TRIED to deal with your patient relations department and received nothing but hassle and accusations. This despite the fact that I worked at TWH and had sent things through Ms. Rogers before, it now seems most people at UHN pre-judge their contacts by their job or injury or both. I am a Medical Secretary and was treated as if I should know better than to complain. That is a serious issue. There needs to be some accountabiility, just as in the UHN mission statement; but it seems no one wants to take it.

I'm getting to the end of my patience (forgive the pun) and no matter what happens I will never recommend TWH or UHN to anyone in my life. I will not give my OHIP/insurance dollars to a hospital that has so little regard for people, yet professes to strive for the very best in P.C.C.

It's a blatant contradiction that I have now personally experienced and witnessed on both sides of the table. As an employee, and as a patient.

We have received a new referral to a different fx clinic who seemed to act like we were not the first to leave UHN upset. I will contact you tomorrow afternoon to update you on what our second-opinion finds. Whatever those findings may be.

Should they find the fx is healing properly and was treated properly, I will contact you back to discuss the matter of Dr. Freidman's offering and denial of offering of Oxycontin and Percocet. His denial that he offered these narcotics is very troubling and curious to me.

Furthermore, Dr. Bell, please ask yourself, what does this man and his fiance have to gain by complaining?

I was merely trying to alert your patient relations department to some unsavoury and unsatisfactory treatment (medical and personal). It's not like I'm suing you or even threatened to sue. I just believe that the standards in medicine need to be upheld and that doctors need to take responsibility for the way in which they deal with their patients. I'm sure being in the position you are, you agree with me there.

Sincerely,

Megan Ball

Letter from Craig to Toronto Western Hospital

Dear Sharon,

It is now 6:41am and I have just arrived home from Toronto Western Hospital's emergency department, yet again. I've had no sleep, so please bear with me.

The reason I went (against my better judgement, might I add) was because after my appointment at the Hand Clinic, my cast was so tight that it caused a severe welt (upon removing the cast, even Dr. Lee/Li said, "wow that's bad"). This despite my going to the Hand Clinic this afternoon where I was once again told everything was okay and the numbness would go away when the cast comes off 3 weeks from now. I was told to keep the cast - even though they didn't even bother to remove the tensor bandage to check on the broken plaster or my numb finger underneath.

On a slow, late night, we waited 4 hours to see a resident, 4.5 to see a doctor.

If need be, please see my ER records for verification of the times and condition of the skin and original cast. (for original letter see: March 3, 2008)

While I appreciated Dr. Lee's attempt to fix the cast and my discomfort (finally a doctor who tried to make me feel comfortable), I no longer feel comfortable seeking any further treatment from UHN. I will be seeking care at an alternate hospital where I will ask for a second opinion on the numbness in my finger. I hope with this new finding of ineffective and painful casting you can appreciate my concerns.

Please be advised I will be following up with the appropriate agencies as is needed.

Most Sincerely,

Craig Rigden
--- Lansdowne Ave
Toronto, ON M6H4K3
---.---.----

CC: Dr. Robert Bell

When you hit rock bottom...

My inlaws are loaning us money. People who hang shelves of a daughter who lives in Toronto, pay for a son to go to University, help out their son in a wheelchair and now, their son with a broken hand.

It makes me crazy when they're doing everything they can to help us out when they give so much of what they have as it is. They would break themselves to help their family.

Maybe my mother spent too much time helping out my cousins MaryLou, Charlie, Joanne and Matthew to realize I needed help. Who knows, speculation is not in my therapy plans.

As the old addage goes, "when you hit rock bottom you've got nothing to lose."

Hello, rock bottom! Table for two?

Woe Is Me

Well, another well spent day. Craig and I arguing over whether dogs have rational thought similar to that of someone with a mental disability. I said no. He said yes. He lashed out at me trying to leave it that we agree to disagree. Then got frustrated when I tried to go upstairs to get away from him while he refitted the sheets on the couch. How was I to know he even wanted my help?!

Of course this likely stems from the fact we can barely keep food on the table and haven't paid the rent. This is probably my fault, too.

I don't know what to do when we fight like this. I don't want to leave him, but the more I stand up for myself and my own opinions, the more we get into it. And the more we get into it, the further away from him I feel. Which leads to a lack of intimacy which hurts us both and leaves me feeling like leaving may be my only choice.

Then again, he's out of work, we're broke, he's got an imobolized hand and I'm sure not hearing from Manulife has been driving him mental. I just wish I knew how to handle this. Conflict is not something I've ever really had to deal with. I avoided it with my parents, I shy away from it with friends, I didn't even defend myself in situations where I should have because I just wanted it all to go away.

And perhaps that's why leaving doesn't feel like an option. I mean, beyond the finances. I feel like if I were to give up, I'm only giving up on what I'm working so hard to acheive. A normal life.

God, what I'd give for a normal life.

As for today, I think I'll be trying to sleep away the knots in my stomach.

Keep on truckin'

More therapy, more interviews; one with a dream company. I have a working interview with them next week. This is mine to lose now. I NEED this. My brain needs it, my body needs it, my heart needs it, my mother needs to hear second-hand about it...

Then kick herself for giving me up... Something this world seems to like to do to me. Very frustrating and disheartening.

Craig's hand was most definitely broken and will be in a cast for the next 3 weeks. Not that it mattered, since he lost his job on the same day. ...Perhaps, part of hitting the wall in the first place? Anyway, his E.I. claim was processed and accepted right away, now it's just up to me to get myself up and moving again.

In the interim, we're also dealing with accusations from the University Health Network that Craig's complaint about being offered percocet and oxycontin in the E.R. by Dr. Friedman was a lie. We issued the complaint to the hospital as Craig had a verbal altercation with said doctor, before he offered Craig narcotics in what seemed as a bribe. The hospital has told us Dr. Friedman says this never happened and he never made such an offer. Too bad there was a med student there, too. And a camera.

I've written the CEO of the hospital since Patient Relations only seems to be able to stone wall our questions. Where is the med student? Where is the tape from the cameras? Why would ANY doctor prescribe narcotics from the E.R. to a patient they'll never see again? Why can't you answer these questions?

Day-to-day I deal with the guilt I feel, because of the feelings I have towards my mother. It was so ingrained in me that you stick by family. I can't help but feel like one of those people who turned against their family because of things they uncovered in therapy.

My mother walked over me for the last time. I wish it didn't happen the way it did, but I can't change the past. She chose the actions she did. Now she'll have to deal with the consequences. It sucks. But maybe she'll learn something about real loyalty and love.

Letter from Craig BACK to Sharon.

Dear Sharon

I have cut and pasted the following example from your email. Please explain to me how this is, and I quote you, "You seem to be jumping to conclusions. I did not , in any way call him a liar. I am not sure how you came to this conclusion, or he for that matter".

You stated in your findings email to me that, "There is agreement and acknowledgement that oxycontin was not offered"

Now, I was in the room when the offer was made. So was the fourth year med student (I believe his first name was Lance, he has dark hair, glasses, a five o'clock shadow, and wore cowboy boots), and the doctor in question. Someone is lying, and seeing as how you have made no reference to verifying my story with this med student, I can only assume that this student was never questioned.

Megan will not be calling you concerning this matter. She asked me to inform you that she thinks someone named Bob Bell will be more interested in our concerns, and more receptive to our queries.

I'm sorry this matter seems it will need to go beyond patient relations. I truly hoped for a more efficient and caring response to my concerns. I contacted you, out of concern for the care of all patients going to that ER, but instead was told that my version of events and recollections never occurred. That is why I feel I was called a liar. That is why we will be dealing with this through other channels.

Most sincerely,
Craig Rigden

...TWENTY MINUTES LATER

-----Original Message-----
From: Rogers, Sharon
To: 'Megan Ball'
Subject: RE: FW: Care Received on February 28, 2008, E.R., 10pm

Megan.
You seem to be jumping to conclusions. I did not , in any way call him a liar. I am not sure how you came to this conclusion, or he for that matter. I acknowledged the complaint; everyone else acknowledged the complaint. There was an attempt at apology at the time (which didn't have the impact expected); there was further apology today (several times). There was no lying.
I just re read my email; it was extremely clear and NOT the way that you describe below. Perhaps this is another example of your and Craig's misinterpretation of things; please read again and call me .
Sharon Rogers

...and to Craig at 1:43PM...

Craig
your concerns were not dismissed; they were acknowledged.
There was no lying; there was apology.
the care was reviewed; nothing was taken at face value.
I am surprised by the complete 180 degree misinterpretation of this note by you and Megan.
see below.
Sharon