May I Have A Wurd Please

I am currently enrolled in the school of life. I've been showing up every day, rain or shine, and  I hope to one day graduate - fingers crossed. I am pretty sure I will not be valedictorian, though. Don't fret, it's OK, at least I've never had to wear a dunce cap, but even if I did, you know darn well, I will just rock it with a pair of boots and a mini skirt cause that's just who I am.

How do you define happiness? How do we obtain happiness? Once we have achieved happiness, how do we hold on to it? Those are all really good questions, and I think the best way to address them is to talk about things I absolutely know will NOT bring you happiness.

So today I wanna talk a little bit about probably one of the greatest musical conundrums of our time. And that conundrum was whether Van Halen was better with David Lee Roth or Sammy Hagar.

Happy Sunday, everyone.  I have so many great subjects coming up very soon, but since my last few posts have been kind of on the "heavy" side, I wanted to focus on something a little "lighter" in this one. That "something" is a local business right in our own backyard.

Is everyone familiar with the theory that life is a journey? I find that to be a truthful analogy. The funny thing is, even though all of our journeys will eventually end with us leaving this earth, each of us must take our own route to get there.

I am one of the most sentimental people you will ever meet. I can watch the same movie over and over and cry at the exact same scenes. I will also laugh like a hyena at my favorite comedies, then watch them all over again and laugh just as hard. I have a fantastic memory. I can remember every  insignificant piece of information I've ever heard.Yes, you heard that right. I am a wealth of useless knowledge.

As I've embraced growing older, I've really had to learn to deal with all the things that go along with it. Take it from me, this can be easier said than done. When I reflect on my life, I think, "Annette, you are a lot like a bird." You are probably asking yourself, "Why would I compare myself to poultry?" Well poultry is good for you and so am I. Did I just say that? I may be on to something, so hear me out please.

My life until December 4th, 2021, had been relatively uneventful. I was a wife and mother of four. I worked 12-hour shifts at a book bindery, Berryville Graphics, and was experiencing the typical empty-nest syndrome that people my age experience as their children leave home. The day my husband Mike was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer would change that ordinary life.During the height of COVID-19, the bindery was considered an essential workplace. We would show up every morning, have our temperature taken, put on our masks, and start our shift. Inevitably, COVID-19 began to spread through the plant, and I started to experience symptoms. I went home from work, did not pass GO, and did not collect $200; instead, I fell into bed with the same clothes I had worn all day, exhausted and shivering. The next morning, I woke up feeling worse and called the doctor. I was instructed to drive to his office and wait in my car; a nurse would come out and administer a COVID-19 test.I went straight home after the test and stayed in bed all day. The results came back negative. I knew this result was folly. I was literally the sickest I have ever been. The next day, Mike began having symptoms. He underwent a test, and the result was positive. I was retested, and not surprisingly, I was now positive as well. It took about two weeks for me to start feeling better. Mike, however, was still not feeling well. You know how I knew he wasn’t feeling well? He willingly went to the doctor, and that never happened. As days went by, Mike remained sick, so our doctor ordered a CT scan of his stomach. We secured an appointment at 5:30 pm at Gettysburg Hospital. It felt like 5:30 would never arrive, but when it did, the test was finished quickly, and we drove home. We are part of the WellSpan network, and the patient portal allows you to access all your test results, sometimes before your doctor even has the chance to review them. We were on our way up Jacks Mountain Road when I heard the familiar ping of my phone alerting me to new test results. That ping would become synonymous with one of the worst days of my life. Two years later, I still have my phone on silent. I can’t bear to hear that sound.Although we were only minutes from home, I was impatient, so I opened the app and began reading. My eyes glanced over the first few sentences, and then I saw something that made my heart sink; a wave of panic swept over me as I had never felt before. The tears came fast and hard. My alarmed husband said, “Annette, what’s the matter?” Through those tears, I choked out, “There is a mass on your pancreas.” He looked at me with a blank stare on his face, not saying a word. I knew he didn’t fully comprehend what I had just said, but I did. From that day forward, I knew that life as I knew it would never be the same.I am historically not the best person in a crisis; I knew I had to be strong. My husband needed me. My daily routine became showering and having what I affectionately called my daily mini-nervous breakdown. Once there, I allowed myself to express every emotion I felt. Anger, sorrow, fear, you name it, I thought it. I embraced them all as I would a long-lost friend. I would allow myself a few minutes, then compose myself, look in the mirror, dry my tears, and put a smile on my face for Mike. I tell people now that my grief didn’t begin the day my husband died. It started the day he was diagnosed. Mike was a veteran, and between the VA and WellSpan, he was given the best possible care consistent with his stage 4 cancer diagnosis. His health was stable for a while, but as his condition deteriorated, I ended up leaving my job and becoming his caretaker. I’ll never forget his last appointment before he went into hospice care. The doctor rolled over to him on his stool and looked him in the eye. He said, “I hope you know how lucky you are to have her.” He was pointing at me. He said, “A lot of our patients have no one.” That comment hit me hard. The thought of someone having to go through a terminal diagnosis alone was something I couldn’t even wrap my head around. Mike was given 3 -4 months to live. Through his attitude, prayer, and doctor’s care, he lived 18. Mike passed away on May 22nd, 2023, at 63. In a way, his illness and death were the worst things that ever happened to me. However, over time, I realized this experience, though crushing, changed me for the better. I used to live haphazardly, not really appreciating the little things in life. I quickly realized the little things in life are really EVERYTHING in life. I don’t look at anything the same way. I learned to embrace gratitude and kindness like I embraced my tears in the shower.

I used to live in a place with an overabundance of stray cats and other types of wildlife as well.I love animals, and I took it upon myself to feed them all. These cats were characterized as "feral," but I can tell you from experience that if you build trust with them, that trust is rewarded, and they become anything but "feral".My husband was not fond of my devotion to the cats. It added $50 or more to our grocery bill every week, and when I came home from work, there would be a crew of about 15-20 cats milling around outside our house. Almost like I was running a flop house for cats.

This is a short video recreation of how I intend to spend my Valentune's Day rocking out all day. If someone ever told you that you cannot dance to RUSH they have obviously never seen me after I get out of the shower and really let loose.