Posts Tagged secrets

Tarzan Goes To Rehab (G-uno)

Drama everywhere I look these days. Jane could have never guessed that Tarzan’s secret daughter would have been the problem she wished for instead of his problem with alcohol. I myself come from a long line of alcoholics, and I truly didn’t see this elephant in the room. To be perfectly honest though I have been wrapped up in my own menopausal woes here lately. Like most addicts Tarzan is masterful at hiding his addiction.
I hold no superior judgement on this subject. Alcoholism is no different from having any other disease in my opinion. I would not judge a person harshly for having diabetes, or any other illness in spite of a rather horrifying childhood of having an alcoholic father.
Jane herself is no stranger to life with an alcoholic. Her story differs from mine though. Her mother died from sclerosis of the liver when she was just three years old. Her father did not drink so she really doesn’t have any experience with detecting the symptoms.
So you can imagine her great surprise of finding him passed out cold on his back doorstep completely unresponsive. Having him rushed to the hospital by ambulance, and having the doctor ask you how long has he had a problem with alcohol?
Jane’s response was that he does not have a problem with alcohol. The doctor looking at Jane with an expression of great belief replied that his blood work results showed otherwise. He then strongly suggested that rehab should be the next consideration.



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secrets you keep from kids: the pseudofriend (g2)

A friend of mine from high school died a few years ago and left a young kid behind. I didn’t know until their mom popped up on Facebook, even though I’d heard through the grapevine that we ended up coming back sort of near our hometown, at least within 50 miles of one another. I quietly ignored this for years.

Their kid is steamrolling into their teens, is of course adorable and even seems like someone I would thoroughly enjoy chatting with. They friended me on facebook after my friend’s mother, their grandmother, posted some pics of our high school days and referred to me as “their best friend.”

It was news to me. What I remember about this person is that during high school, I got into trouble a lot because they were constantly putting me in situations where I was covering for them. I also remember they cried when I gave them a haircut once. It was the grunge area, but do you have to be that emotionally attached to something that is essentially bodily waste?

They wanted to go out with someone they weren’t allowed to? They told their mom they would be at my house spending the night. I was the one who got busted with my family and got in trouble for it.

I got wrangled into a blind double date when they wanted to go out with an older person, which their mom only allowed if I would go too. I got stuck with their stinky sibling. Seriously, I don’t know how they managed it, but they looked both wet from some sort of contact with soap but moist and slick from sweat too. I spent a lot of time looking down thinking any moment they would start dripping. I tried my best to stay out of arm’s reach, with my head near open windows.

Another time, I’d invited them to go with a couple of us to the nearest and much larger city where there was more to do, common for our area. They had somehow hijacked the evening and we ended up where I wasn’t supposed to be with a bunch of people I didn’t know doing a lot of stuff that I’m sure would be objectionable. If any attention were directed at me, my friend would get pissed and go out of their way to recapture it.

Whenever they were around, I remember a lot of potentially cool but only barely started conversations with the copious amounts of people they wanted to surround themselves with, but only if the attention was completely on them. This is often what I think of when I think of their behavior.



Yes, this person wanted all the limelight, gender didn’t matter but opposite sex was preferred. I wasn’t in awe of them, I wasn’t chasing them either, so I was either a friend, a rival or their tool, depending on the situation.

Not even my full collection of Depeche Mode was safe. They borrowed them, then completely destroyed them. Fucker.

With that said, we did sometimes manage to have real bonding conversations, but there could not be anyone around and no prospect of anyone being there at any point in a 24 hour period.

We became better friends when we both married. They became the only married friends we’d had. I married young so finding people who were also married and relatable was tough. It made for casual weekends playing RPGs (the dice-rolling, tabletop kind, kids) that were actually enjoyable. I liked their spouse a lot and being with them seemed to settle that need to constantly have attention. They loved my friend, but they didn’t dote and gush either. They were a realistic slap, gently, to how things should be more equal.

It didn’t last long, one was in the military and the orders to ship out came soon after they married, but it was wonderful when a couple years later, they called and told us they were having their first kid. I hadn’t thought of them much after that, but hoped things had worked out.

But they didn’t. They split up and my friend ended up with an aggressive brain tumor that killed them. BFG and I have speculated a lot on whether this caused a lot of the bizarre behavior we’d come to know over the years, but at this point its rather pointless.

Now there’s a kid who has friended me on Facebook and any other social media we both use and I know the questions are there. They’re coming. It’s what I would have done if I knew my mom’s classmates. It’s what I imagine Spawn would do if this were us and not them.

The thought terrifies me.

None of this is anything I would ever tell this kid. Maybe that really does make me their best friend. They may not be mine, but I have and will keep their secrets. I guess that’s what a best friend is supposed to do.

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What Couples Who Have Been In Long-Term Relationships Don’t Want You To Know (G-uno)

I had a much needed lunch today with Jane, and the girls. As most of you know g2, and I have chosen not to reveal our blog to our friends,and family in hopes of being able to post in the most truthful way possible. The idea was to host a blog where people could vent the things they could never say in their daily lives without some censoring, or awkward backlash. So today at lunch I was thinking that each woman at this table has at one time or another shared some deeply personal life details, and as raw as our secrets get I am sure they have all been censored in some way.
We all (humans) have our deepest secrets that no matter how much we trust someone, we don’t want others to know. Hell as I sat there I was thinking about our blog. In addition to being with my friends I had every intention of testing my theory of how much raw detail each of my girls would come up with if I asked them to name things that couples who have been in long-term relationships didn’t want others who have not been in one to know.
Ironically I also wondered if the details (although completely anonymous) that I share in my posts would be something they would be angry to know that I have shared? Would they be angry to know that I have this whole blog going on that they don’t know about either. Then I thought the same thoughts about my family. Then I realized they were all laughing at me as Jane snapped her fingers next to my head while saying “Earth to G-uno are you still with us?”
Doing my best not to be a complete liar I gave them the whole rundown on my censoring secrecy theory (minus the I’m gathering information to share in my next post details), and then I asked them each to tell me one completely uncensored thing they thought people who had, or are in long-term relationships didn’t want someone who hadn’t been in one to know because they felt they would not truly be able to grasp the concept. So for your reading pleasure here is the list my girls came up with:
  1. There will be times, even period of times where you will hate your person.
  2. There will be sexual droughts, and you will be okay with the break.
  3. You, or your spouse may cheat, and you will agree to never tell anyone outside of each other.
  4. You will share horribly mean spirited observations about other people in your lives, and sometimes bond over it.
  5. You will openly hate one or more of their family members.
  6. You will have sex in your friend’s home during some holiday or get together with out telling them.
  7. Your person will hate one of your closest friends, and you will hide that from your friend.
There was a distinct discomfort after coming up with this list. I think it was because we could identify with all of the secrets we had come up with on our list. The really interesting thing was that we all knew that this secrecy exists, but even in our tight little circle we plead the 5th on certain topics on our list. ( Cough#!* 3,6,& 7) The one thing that everyone agreed with, was that I wasn’t allowed to pick anymore subject matters for our luncheons for a very long time! 😉



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Confessions From Hospice Nurses Part 1 (G-uno)

In my opinion the majority of nurses can be divided into two basic categories the amazing Florence Nightingales, or the batshit crazy ones. Of course those two categories branch off into a thousand other categories, but those are most definitely the first two divisional starting points. “Ellie May Clampet” is dying. This is the part of my job that I absolutely hate.
She is an amazing woman who has lived a first rate life. I call her “Ellie May Clampet” for two reasons. The first is to protect her privacy, and the second is because in her younger photos she looks just like the beautiful blonde bombshell character in the old television series “The Beverly Hillbillies.” We have reached the stage where Hospice nursing is required around the clock.
Before every nurse out there wants to hang me from the nearest tree, let me just say I have the deepest respect for “MOST” of the nurses out there, but even you all cannot deny that the batshit crazy ones do exist. They are just a part of the whole medical community experience. I know most of you work your backsides off to care for your patients. You have a thankless job where your patients, their family members, doctors, D.O.N.s, CNAs, and facility managers who don’t have a clue as to what you do bitch, moan, and complain to you endlessly. I am truly sorry for this because you are truly extraordinary human beings.
Then there are you the “batshit crazy ones,” (stop shaking your heads you know who you are) the ones who pocket your patients antianxiety meds & pain killers. You hover over your nursing carts pretending to be busy, shaking your heads in the yes motion to every plea that comes your way while you simultaneously manage to never meet even one single request. There’s also the always stressed messed nurse who barks at anyone who even ventures to approach her cart. It keeps people from approaching you at all so you can hide until your wretched shift is over.
Hospice Nurses are usually nurses who have been floor nurses at hospitals, or other facilities. After years of dealing with the system they decide to revisit their initial desire to fully have time to care for a patient on a one to one personal basis. I believe that is the inner dream of all nurses. The system quickly robs your ability to fulfill this noble desire,and may even be somewhat be responsible for flipping a Florence Nightingale type into they batshit crazy type. Once again deep respect for the truly dedicated nurses who deal with this most difficult end of life nursing. That being said you tend to draw in your own special brand of batshit crazy nurses.
Ellie May’s family (a beautiful bunch who love their mother deeply) have asked me to continue being their mom’s assistant as she makes her journey to the other side. I have agreed to this so now when I am with her I am also sharing this time with her Hospice nurses. I prefer to physically care for Ellie May in the way that I have since we began our time together. While caring for her some of her nurses have decided to confide in me, sharing their personal stories. I think the fact that we are sharing this small room early in the morning with no one else there except Ellie May, makes it the perfect setting to tell two people who you will not see again some pretty personal confessions. 😉



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I’m Not Sure She Wants Me To Know Her Secret Part-1 (G-uno)

I knew from the moment I walked into the room, and saw his piercing blue eyes carefully following my every move that something was not right. His mother was extremely nervous even though this was not our first time meeting. We know each other through a shared friendship with another woman who I haven’t had contact with in almost two years. She sat on the couch across from me wringing her hands uncomfortably with a look of uncertainty over asking me to come.

I’m not sure she wants me to know her secret, but I’m sure she must be at the end of her rope over her strained relationship with her nine-year old son by her nervous demeanor. I am also very sure that she is not telling me everything about what’s going on with her son. He stood there surveying his mother’s every interaction with me, and I had the distinct feeling that even though she can’t read this child’s behavior he has no trouble reading her’s.

I met this boy when he was four almost five. He was a high-spirited, mile a minute happy little boy, not at all the same child who stood there looking at his mother with the disgust of a much older person’s demeanor. Then he turned his deep gaze from her direction, and went back to following mine. He told me that his dog still loved him even if he was mean to him sometimes. It was a verbal gauntlet thrown to my feet, his way of testing my reaction. I was taken aback by what felt like an extremely calculated move coming from this tiny frame with the most piercing blue eyes.

It was clear to both his mother, and I that she was essentially being dismissed. She stood nervously telling me that her older daughter would be in her room, and could call her if I needed her help. Her daughter never said a word. She shyly acknowledged me before heading back to her room. Then her mother looked at me, and said she has a lock on her door to ensure some privacy from her brother when he becomes too much.

Then she left us for what was undoubtedly the most unusual four hours of my working career. For the sake of my client’s privacy, and the deep blue eyes we will call him “Frank.”

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