Cancer is such an ugly word

Mr. Nascar went to the local health department about a month after he was released. He doesn’t have any insurance and was dropped from TennCare when he was released from prison. While incarcerated, he had noticed a mole on his right shoulder blade had changed. It was an ugly little thing, so black that glistened. The health department referred him to a dermatologist to have the mole removed. He went for his office visit, they cut it out, stitched him up and he went along his merry way. He had a follow up appointment scheduled for 2 weeks later.

We both had mostly forgotten about the issue, the old “No news is good news” approach was in the back of our minds. Unfortunately that turned out not to be the case. When he arrived at his follow up appointment the doctor gave us the news that the pathology on the mole had returned, testing positive for cancer; malignant melanoma. Ugly, ugly words. I didn’t know what to do, so I did what I do best in upsetting, stressful situations. I cried. Mr. Nascar, bless his heart takes things in stride and has a very calm attitude about it. The dermatologist referred him to an Oncologist and a Surgeon. I guess they made the appointments backward, because the Oncologist was the first appointment and he couldn’t really help us seeing as he didn’t have the results from the surgery. Mr. Nascar met with the surgeon and an appointment was set for a larger area of skin to be removed around the original mole site, and for him to be injected with radioactive dye, to see if the cancer had spread.

On May 21, we arrived at the hospital at 7am. I dropped Mr. Nascar off and then whisked Bert© off to school. I was back by 8am and went to the Day Surgery area to sit with him before his surgery. I’ll never forget, he was in bed 11 and they said I could go right back. He looked so uncomfortable at 6′ 3″ trying to fit into the little hospital bed. He nodded off, but reminded me that at 8:30 I needed to go down and talk with financial services at the hospital. Without insurance, we have to pay for all of this out of pocket. The hospital has given us a 41% cash discount, but we still needed to put down a deposit before the surgery and then make payments on the $9,000-10,000 hospital bill. Ugh, even talking about it turns my stomach. I don’t know that we’ll ever be able to get out from under that, but it’s just going to have to be one step at a time.

When I finished with financial services, I went back up to sit with Mr. Nascar as his surgery wasn’t scheduled until 11. I went back to bed 11, and pulled back the curtain. To my surprise, Mr. Nascar was not there! I startled the heck out of the old man that had been assigned to that bed next. I closed the curtain, red-faced, turned on my heel and headed back to the reception area. The very nice nurse at the front desk explained that she had hoped to catch me when I came back to tell me that they had taken him on to pre-op to prep for surgery. I just smiled and told her it was too late. I suggested that she might want to check on the man in bed 11, as I’m sure I came as a little bit of a shock to him.

In the waiting lounge, I spent hours alternating between reading my book and checking the names scrolling down the TV screen that gives an update on each patient’s surgery status. I received a call from a surgical nurse when they surgery started, and again about an hour in to update me and let me know that all was well. Finally about 1:30 that afternoon the lounge nurse notified me that the surgery was over and that the doctor would be coming to talk to me.

I had never met Dr. D before, but he was very nice. He explained to me that the surgery went well. The radioactive dye had travelled to the lymph nodes under Mr. Nascar’s right arm, so he took 3-4 of those out for biopsy. He gave me some basic care instructions, and advised me that we should set a follow up appointment for two weeks. About an hour after I spoke with Dr. D I was able to go back and sit with Mr. Nascar again. He was asleep when I arrived, heavily medicated. I sat with him for awhile and quietly read my book. Around 3pm Mr. Nascar woke up and was complaining of intense pain in the incision site on his back. The nurse said she was unable to give him any more medication; we would need to wait for discharge and have his prescription filled.

We left the hospital about 4 that afternoon and went to pick up Bert©. We made our way to Wal-Mart to have his prescriptions filled. He wasn’t feeling very well and was very groggy. He went straight to sleep as soon as we arrived home. That weekend I was off on Friday & Monday for the Memorial day holiday. Friday was Bert©’s last day of school. I promised her that I would come and have lunch with her that day, and Mr. Nascar has said he would come as well. That didn’t end up happening. From Thursday afternoon after the surgery till Saturday, Mr. Nascar slept 20-21 hours a day. On Saturday we first realized he was having a fever, 102.4. Thus began the first of 3 visits to the Emergency Room to fight what we would eventually find out to be a raging Staph infection.

Life was pretty miserable for all involved for the next two weeks or so. My step-father passed away very suddenly, from what we still really don’t know. Mr. Nascar was in copious amounts of pain from the 6” incision on his back (because the skin was pulled so tight to close the wound) and from the surgery site under his arm as it was swollen from the infection.

Then, more bad news came along. The pathology on the lymph nodes had come back. They had tested positive for cancer. Dr. D thought it would be best for him to go operate again on Mr. Nascar to remove the rest of the lymph nodes under his right arm. First though, we needed to clear up his current infection and give him some additional time to heal. We used that time to take off for a family vacation in Florida. We needed that, all of us. It was time to relax, and enjoy each others company without the pressure and stress of everyday life.

On Tuesday July 14, Dr. D again operated on Mr. Nascar. The difference between this surgery and the previous one is very noticeable. Mr. Nascar was awake as soon as I came back to the recovery room. He has had a full and voracious appetite. He hasn’t been sleeping most of his days away. He has been up and around, and joking with me. So far (fingers crossed, please) there has been no sign of an infection. Mr. Nascar started taking antibiotics a week prior to surgery and will continue them for 20 days afterward to hopefully thwart another infection. He says that his arm is sore, and he cannot raise it very high, and the drain that he has for the next two weeks is annoying, and things don’t taste right because of the antibiotics, and, and, and. He is back to his *relatively* normal self again. I am happy to see it. He’s itching to go back to work, but I’d like him to be out for at least a week, especially with the drain in.

He has a follow up appointment in two weeks with Dr. D. Hopefully we will have the pathology back on the remaining lymph nodes that were removed. Dr. D said that he didn’t see anything obvious that looked bad, however it’s harder to tell in men than it is in women. I don’t see that it matters much regardless because Mr. Nascar has decided not to follow up with the Oncologist. He is adamant that he doesn’t want any Chemotherapy or Radiation treatment. He tells me that he’s 42 years old and that his only regret if he dies would be leaving me and Bert© behind. He says he is not scared of dying, that he is looking forward to what happens when he passes from this life.

I am not happy about this decision, but it is not my place to force him to choose otherwise. He is a grown man and is perfectly capable of making choices in his life, he got along fine for 40 some odd years without me and he doesn’t need my opinions now. He spent 11 years caring for his mother and watching her die. He knows some of what it’s like to go through those treatments, and understands the disappointment when they don’t work. His theory is, why not enjoy the time that I do have left with the people I love, instead of making myself feel sick and miserable with the medication that’s supposed to help me and dying anyway. I really can’t fault him on his logic. Regardless, it’s plausible that I could be killed in a tragic accident and die before he does anyway. Who knows? From the moment we’re born we begin dying. Might as well make the most of it.

That being said, I’m going to go wake his butt up right now, give him and big hug and tell him how much I love him. Thank you all for letting me share this with you. It was finally time and it needed to come off my chest.

Happy Saturday everyone!

Why did I start blogging?

That was the question posed on Sleepyjane’s blog. I seem to be turning to her for inspiration with my writing lately. She wanted to get to know her fellow bloggers a little better and posed 6 random questions that people could choose to write about. I thought I would write about why I started blogging. Some of you might already know the backstory behind that, but for any “new” or potential readers, I thought I’d spell it all out again.

In 2007, there was some interesting stuff going on in my life. I have to pause here, because I’m astounded by the fact that I have been blogging for nearly 2 years now. Wow.

Anyway. Way back in 2007 I was involved heavily in a relationship with a married man. I got entangled with him quite by accident, he answered a personal ad I took out and we went for dinner one night. We had a fabulous time and he talked very candidly about loosing his fiancee in a car accident and how it had taken him nearly a year to get over it. Now, please keep in mind that I was newly separated from TheEx and hindsight tells me that I was incredibly vulnerable and naive. I believed him, I ate every word of his story up. We were together 3 months before I wised up and figure out he was married. You would think that little revelation would have been enough to make me walk away, but OH NO, I wasn’t quite done making a fool of myself.

I found out as much about his wife as I could and I literally started virtually stalking her. I searched out any profile I could for her and read as much about her as I could. I was a woman obsessed. I think I wanted to see what their relationship was from her point of view. From what he had said, they had been having problems for a long time and they both were staying married because they couldn’t afford to split up. I voraciously read every word of hers that I could put my beady little eyes upon.

Eventually I discovered that she had a blog. I felt like perhaps I had struck gold. I finally felt like I might understand what made her, and more importantly their relationship tick. I wanted him to be with me, and only me more than I had wanted anything in a long time but I would never ever have asked, demanded, or manipulated things to head in my favor. I was content, happy even, to enjoy the time that we spent together and then to let him go home to her. That didn’t stop me from being a complete and total psychotic cyber stalker. Her blog was so, normal. I was almost disappointed. I wanted to read about them having fights and arguments, and all the things that drove her crazy about him…but there were none.  In time, I actually grew to enjoy the way she wrote. She is a very well spoken, articulate person, and for some God-awful reason I thought I should reach out to her.

I remember clearly the day that I left an anonymous comment on her blog. I thought I would have a heart attack I was so anxious and scared. I thought for sure she would know who it was. I was waiting, with baited breath for the man to call me and ream me out for contacting his wife. I waited in vain, for that call never did come. As time went on, I got more brazen and bold. I thought well maybe if I blogged too, we could become “virtual” friends.

I want to pause here, to smack my hand against my forehead and say: “Webmiss, what the hell were you thinking??” I am ashamed of having an affair with a married man. I am ashamed that my wonderful outlet of blogging started with such an ugly, dark secret.

So, I created a blog, and a fictitious person to go with it. I figured if we were going to be webbuddies I should at least know something about my pseudo-self. I had a gave my persona a new name, and I had out lined some background for myself. I started writing about some of the real life happenings at work, and in my family life, but I changed details like having a brother when in real life I have a sister.

I started reading other blogs, besides hers. I started commenting and actually beginning friendships with some of the people currently on my blog roll. I became so involved, that some of my true personality was coming forth and I was beginning to loose track of the deceitful details. Then, one day it all came to a head. Someone had sent me a real Christmas card, addressed to my pseudo-self but to my real address and it came back to them. I decided then and there that I couldn’t lie anymore. I outed myself on my own blog. People were shocked and angry. I lost a lot of blog-friends that I really, really liked. I had hoped that once the pretense was gone, and I could just be myself everything would be ok. But, I was wrong.

More than not, people were very supportive and understanding of why I did what I did. I have developed a kinship with these friends and continue to be active on their blogs and them on mine. I treasure those friendships because in spite of my devious actions, they saw through to the real me and chose to remain friends.

I ultimately ended the relationship with MarriedMan. It was probably the best decision I ever made. I’m happier and healthier for it. I don’t know what he’s doing, I don’t know if he’s even still married, and you know what? I don’t want to know. I never ended up becoming friends with his wife through her blog, and really that was probably best as it was a messed up idea from the beginning. I have lived to learn a lesson from that.

Rest assured, since that episode in my life I have been blogging, perhaps not as regularly as I should, but everything you read is ME, the real me. I don’t reveal the true name of the company that I work for, as I’m afraid of them coming across this blog. My daughter, really is 5, and her name is not Bert©, that is just a cool nickname Maxxy gave her. My name is not really Webmiss, but those closest to me do know what it is. Mr.Nascar, is aptly named as he is a Nascar fan, is really in prison. We have managed to travel along out 13-14 month long relationship with him comfortably incarcerated for the last 7 months all the way across the state.

And yes, damnit, I do live in Tennessee. Although you wouldn’t know it to talk to me.

That is why I started blogging. As screwed up as my logic seems now, it appeared to be a fine idea at the time. I’m 2 years older now, but much more wiser than my age belies.

From the bottom of my heart, I thank each of you that stayed with me in spite of all the lies and deceit. To the new people that are reading me, well…now you know my dirty little secret.

Stop the drama-go-round, I want to get off

I am so tired of all the drama in my life. It seems to have all started with Mr. Nascar getting arrested nearly 7 months ago. Yowza, I can hardly believe he’s been gone so long. Actually I think he’s been gone longer than we actually were together.

The latest drama comes courtesy of TheEx. I was sitting at work last week when my cell phone rang, I saw that it was him but as I was at work I didn’t answer it. He left me a message asking about Bert© and wanting to know if I had filed my taxes yet. My stomach sank when I listened to the voicemail. I wondered if he had claimed her as well as a dependant andwe were about to become embroiled in some kind of IRS nightmare.  I had already filed my taxes and received my return at the beginning of the month (Thank God!) so I wasn’t sure what to expect.

It turns out that he wants to take me back to court for the 2nd time in less than 12 months. He hasn’t worked since November and says that things in South Dakota just aren’t getting any better for him or Wifey#2. He was laid off from his job as an equipment operator for the mine when the weather started turning bad. He refused to apply for unemployment because “by the time they take 1/2 the check and send it to you I’d only be getting about $100 a week and it wouldn’t be worth it”, andhas yet to find a job. I guess his standards for work are too high, or after all the years of being the breadwinner while we were married he has decided he likes the idea of being able to stay home while Wifey#2 supports him. I don’t know if you all recall, but October of 2007 she was having to do the same thing back when they were just dating and living together in Minnesota.

I digress though. I asked him if he had suddenly turned deaf, because I recall quite clearly the judge saying “Mr. TheEx, the state of Tennessee expects that when you voluntarily terminate your position with a company you would seek employment elsewhere making the same or better salary.” He seems to think that they do not understand the seriousness of his position and that he has tried to find a decent job. So, as I am bound by the terms of our divorce to supply either my W2 or my tax return for the previous year, I provided him with that information only to know that it will be used against me in the near future.

Then he dropped the real bomb. “So uhh have you talked to my mom lately?” I explained that we had been playing phone tag back and forth, but so far had not connected for a real conversation. “Oh, so I guess you don’t know then. Well, uhh, Wifey#2 is pregnant”

This is one of those moments in my life that is exactly like those that they play on TV sitcoms. You know the one where the person on the receiving end of the news has their head explode or they envision themselves beating the other person with a book, hammer…insert blunt object of choice. Just as that lovely vision finishes, you fade back to reality with the person actually just going “Oh no, I hadn’t heard that. How lovely. When is the baby due?”

Is that kind of preternatural calm a sign that I might be psychopathic? I really wanted to scream at the top of my lungs “Great F’ing job you A-hole. You can’t take care of the 1 child you already have and here you’re going to procreate again. MORON!” Perhaps I’m making more of this than I should, because really it doesn’t affect me other than I’m still not getting child support and I think that if he does have other children to support it will ultimately reduce his financial responsibility to Bert©. I guess I’m just tired of always being the responsible one. It obviously doesn’t pay to be responsible cause I sure as heck am struggling to make ends meet.

What kind of person does it make me, to have at one point in my life cared enough about this man to marry him and have a child with him? I must have some incredibly defective judgement or some sort of inherent character flaw. I must have please take advantage of mewritten across my forehead. All of this, everything that he has said and done since we separated has really made me question myself and whether or not I’m a good person. Maybe the common denominator in all of this is ME. I’m scared to death now that all of this stuff with Mr. Nascar is just going to be the same type of thing. He’s in prison, I’m supporting him…and how the hell do I know he doesn’t have 2 or 3 other girls he calls/writes/visits with?

I’m angry that Bert© will grow up with a sibling out there someone, a little brother or sister that she probably wont ever get to know. I’m sure that little person will grow up seeing pictures of my little girl in their house and wondering how it all fits together. I’m scared that now Bert© will be even more of an after thought. I’m totally disgusted that he could do this, and even more so with Wifey#2. Is she really that blind? Or is she naive enough to think that one day she wont be walking the same road I am?

I’m truly disgusted with myself because, I should be grateful and thankful that out of my marriage came this beautiful, wonderful little girl that is the light of my life, and yet I find myself bitter and angry because of the way she is being treated. I wish I had the guts to petition the courts to take away his rights to her. I wish…well I wish a lot of things and none of them are very nice.

I want Bert© to have a sibling bond like I had growing up with my little sister. But I don’t want it bad enough to uproot my baby and my life here to follow around after TheEx like some crazed groupie.

I guess time will tell. Maybe baby#2 will teach TheEx to grow up and actually follow through on his responsibilities. But then again, maybe it wont.

Part II

I started this post in September, revisited it again in October, and hopefully will publish it today, in December. It has been a very very rough few months.

Thank you all for your wonderful and supportive comments on my last post. I finally have a few minutes to myself so I can write about what happened next.

He handed over his cell phone and his bank cards, kissed me good bye, and was handcuffed and led away.

That was 39 days ago today. So much has happened in those 39 days. The time has passed so quickly, and yet at the same time it has dragged on. I cannot believe that all happened more than a month ago.

This is the first time I have ever experienced anything like this. Everything that is happening is so far out of the realm of anything I have ever dealt with, it’s mind boggling. The evening that he was taken (07/29/08), I didn’t even know where he was going. I drove over to his house to let his roommate know what had happened and to go over the instructions that Mr. Nascar had given me for the rest of the jobs for the week. Every time I even mentioned his name I started to cry. Luckily Bert© was on summer break from school and was up at my moms. I am grateful to God that she didn’t have to see what I saw, nor see me fall very thoroughly to pieces that evening.

At home, it took me a long time to fall asleep that night. Mr. Nascar called me at 1am, and while I was grateful to hear his voice, it wasn’t good news. He had an outstanding warrant from 2002 in the county that I live in, so they were going to arraign him on those charges in the morning. I called in sick the next day and was waiting in the courtroom to hear what the judge had to say. I thought seeing him arrested was hard. Seeing him brought into the courtroom wearing an awful, ill fitting, day-glow orange jumpsuit; shackles around his ankles, and his hands cuffed in frontof him and then attached to a chain around his waist was the worst. I sat in the back of the courtroom and wept. I was forbidden from speaking to him or trying to communicate with him non-verbally. The bailiff called his name and he stood up before the judge. He was reminded of his charges: possession of drug paraphernalia. He was advised that a sentencing hearing would be scheduled for August 5th and that because Knox county had requested a hold on him, he was not allowed to bond out of jail.

I was the last person to exit the courtroom, and I had several hours to kill before I could head out for visitation. Up until that day, I didn’t know where the courthouse or the jail were located in Anderson county. Like I said before, this has really been an education.

I’ll stop there, because honestly I don’t really feel the need to go into minute detail about everything that has happened. Suffice it to say, Mr. Nascarand I are still together, and we’re hanging in there by our finger nails. On Monday it will have been 5 months since he was arrested. He was transferred to prison in early September, and is housed in West Tennessee, roughly 6 hours from here. I have made the trip 4 times to go and see him, usually once a month. It is an undignified experience to be frisked by a woman, told what I can and cannot wear, and be under constant supervision while visiting him. While I know that I am not there with any malicious intention or mischievousplan, there are many others in my same shoes that do take risks with their visitation to bring contraband to their loved ones.

I haven’t felt a yearning to write, and I’m disappointed in myself for that. Bloggingwas my escape from the real world problems, a place where I could be so incredibly honest about my thoughts and feelings, and I feel that I have lost that. My days are filled with work, and Bert©, and Mr. Nascar. I try to make sure that I write to him each evening before I go to bed, and we talk once a day on the phone.  I understand that I have choices in this life, and my choice is, at least for the immediate future, to be there for him and support our relationship through this difficult time.

I have been working dilligently on his parole packet. He was told by his counselor that he should go before the parole board in February. I am trying to gather all of our ducks in a row so that we can be as prepared as possible. Mr. Nascar says that no matter what happens it will be fine because we’ll be as prepared as possible and will have the satisfaction of knowing that we did our best whether he is paroled or not. I have no idea which way it will go, and I’m very frightened that they will put him off for a year or two. While I’m definitely a strong person, I don’t know that I’m that strong.

Bert© and I have moved, we were living with friends of ours for a couple months to get back on our feet. TheExhas stopped paying child support again. He told me that he was laid off, and he refuses to sign up for unemployment because “after you get money for child support I’d only bring home like $100 a week and it’s just not worth it.” Oh isn’t he just a joy?

Hopefully this is the jumping off point for me. I might need to blog from work on my lunch hour to make time for it, but I need to start doing this again. I promise I’ll take down the cobwebs soon, stay a while and see what I have to say.

A special thanks to Maxxy for coming in repeatedly to check on me. I really appreciate that hun, not sure if you even know how much.

The one where she writes about the whole ordeal – Part I

I am sure this is going to be a long and exhausting post to write. I’m equally sure it will be incredibly cathartic for me, as I no longer feel like I can keep this all bottled up inside me. I may have people that do not agree with the choices I have decided to make, and those people may express their opinions as such, but this is my blog, and therefore I decide the content and this, this ordeal in my life is what I need to write about now.

I guess it all started, well it started back when I met Mr. Nascar. I believe I blogged about what a horrid first date we had, but he was persistent and managed to convince me to go on another date with him. The positive in that is that I had a fabulous time. Over the course of several months, we dated casually, as I was still dating 2 or 3 other people. As the weeks passed, it’s like everyone else slipped away until there was just Mr. Nascar. We started spending more and more time together. He met Bert© and while I was apprehensive about that at the time, he has given me no cause to regret that decision. Once Bert© went off to stay with my mother for the summer, if I wasn’t at Mr. Nascar’s house, he was at mine.

Eventually we discussed moving in together, and actually started looking for places to rent. That’s when it happened, that fateful Thursday night. I was laying in bed next to Mr. Nascar and could not stop fidgeting. “What’s wrong?” he asked me. “Nothing”, I replied. Which of course is woman speak for HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW WHAT’S WRONG!! I think he tried to ignore me for awhile, but it didn’t last. I guess he has learned some things in his 41 years on this earth. Finally he turned to me and said “Whatever it is, it’s ok to tell me. If I don’t know what’s wrong, I don’t know how to fix it.” So, I took a great deep breath and said “I want to tell you, but I’m so scared.” I literally felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest if I didn’t tell him what was on my mind. Now please keep in mind, that while I am rather mature, I am still only 26. Yes I have been married, and divorced, and have a child, but most of my relationships have been rather disastrous and I’m a little gun shy. Mr. Nascar held me tight and said “It’s ok, you don’t have to tell me you love me. I already know.” Well, I guess I had worked myself into such a state of anxiety over wanting to tell him that I was in love with him, and worrying about what his answer would be, that I didn’t listen carefully to what he was saying. I thought he was saying that he didn’t want me to tell him that I love him. So in my idiotic frame of mind, I said to him, “Uhh, I need to go home. Right now. Ya, I need to go home.” and I started to get out of bed.

He asked where I was going, and tried to pull me back down beside him. My heart was just racing and I was so close to tears. “I just need to go home. I can’t do this right now.” I said. He told me to look at him, and asked me to explain, because he didn’t understand what was going on. “I guess I just got the wrong idea about how serious our relationship was. Please let me go, I need to leave.” was my response. He said he didn’t know what I was talking about, of course our relationship was serious. He asked me what was wrong with me, in the tone of voice that someone uses when they speak to someone who is on the edge and about to go over. I rolled to face him and buried my face in his chest. “I know you might not want to hear it, but it’s the truth. I love you.” I said to him. “I love you too, Webmiss. I love Bert© as well.” he said. He kissed me on the forehead and asked me what in the world that was all about. I explained to him that the last time I had told someone that I loved them, their response was, well not very reassuring. I had agonized for several weeks over whether or not to tell him, and mostly I was just scared that his reaction was going to be negative. I was living in fear because of things that had happened in another relationship, and that wasn’t fair to him. I was so glad that I got that off my chest. We cuddled up and drifted off to sleep. I probably slept all night with a great big smile on my face.

We spent the whole weekend together, I think we went to the drive-in on Saturday night with his roommate and another friend. It was lovely. That is, until Monday when I received a phone call from him at work. Lord, my stomach clenches just thinking about talking about it, and it’s been more than a month since this happened. Anyway, it was probably about 3:30-4pm on Monday the 28^thwhen he called me at work. I could tell right away that something was wrong. “Can you please come straight to your house after work? I have something to discuss with you.” I told him sure, and we hung up. “Ohh that’s not good at all.” I remember saying. My across the wall cube mate asked what was going on and I told her. She was so optimistic. “It’s not bad news! I bet he’s going to ask you to marry him.” she told me. I disagreed, I definitely felt like the big break up was coming. Throughout our whole relationship I have wondered what it is he sees in me. There’s 15 years between us, although I never think about it unless he talks about a generational reference. Like TV show that I would only have seen in reruns. He actually very good looking, and he’s taken good care of himself over the years. If I had to have guessed his age, I don’t think I would have put him at being in his 40’s. I guess I really am pretty insecure about myself, and what I would have to offer to a man. And as always, in the back of my mind is the little voice that tells me that everyone else has left me, it should just be a matter of time before he does.

So I drive home that evening, as fast as I’m able. My head is just spinning in circles wondering what it could be, and preparing myself for the worst. I opened the door to my apartment and called out. He was sitting at the dining room table surrounded by paperwork. I could see that he was writing out detailed instructions, but for what, I had no idea. I sat down with him at the table and said, ok what’s going on? He turned to me and said, “Remember that drug test I told you I failed?” instantly my heart sank into my stomach, I knew this wasn’t going to be good. I nodded, and he continued. “I called probation this morning, and there is a warrant out for my arrest.” I just nodded again, like a little bobble head. I didn’t feel capable of more response than that. “I need to get these jobs finished this week, I have two days that I need to run three crews and I want to make sure all this is taken care of. Once this week is finished out, I’ll have you take me down so I can turn myself in.” I swallowed a couple times, and then started to cry. “Please, please don’t cry. Everything will be alright.” He caught me up in a big hug. “I love you,” he breathed into my hair “Please be strong, for the both of us.” We sat at the table for a very long time. He explained that he was writing out instructions for me to be able to keep things running if for some reason things didn’t go according to plan. We went out for a quick dinner and then tried to go to sleep. We talked for a very long, long time that night.

I guess I should pause the story here and try to explain why all this was happening. When Mr. Nascar’s mom was very sick for a long time. She lived with him, and he cared for her until the day she died. He made poor choices on how to deal with his pain, such as taking her prescription medication to numb himself toward the difficult situation he was dealing with. Unfortunately as time went on and he became addicted to the drugs, he was searching for new ways to get high. That is when he started doing cocaine. In 2002 Mr. Nascar was definitely running with the wrong crowd. He didn’t care about anything, his mom had died by that point, and nothing else mattered to him. One afternoon he was running some errands with a “friend” of his. His associate asked him to stop at a convenience store so he could run in and get a few things. When he came out of the store, Mr. Nascar drove away and things were business as usual. That is of course, until the police pulled them over. They were both arrested in connection with robbing that convenience store, and Mr. Nascar was also charged with possession of an illegal substance.

Mr. Nascar spent 18 months in the county jail, and was eventually convicted of 2 counts aggravated robbery. His partner was convicted of 7 counts of robbery. Mr. Nascar received two consecutive 6 year sentences and was released to community corrections, and their probation program. He did not thrive on that program. He became increasingly depressed and frustrated. People wouldn’t hire him, because of his back ground. Without a job, he was in violation of his probation and at risk for going back to jail. In 2004 he requested a travel permit to go to another state and visit his brother. He didn’t come back. He spent nearly 2 years living i. His brother helped him get a job, and begin to gain back his confidence. He started his business down there, and finally felt like he was worth something again. In 2006 he was pulled over during a routine traffic stop, and ended up being extradited back to Tennessee. His attorney managed to keep him from going to prison that time, and he was placed back on probation. He’s been here ever since, working on building his business and making contacts with people who can help him get on the Nascar or Golf circuit.

Then of course, late last year we met and started dating. It wasn’t until the end of April that things turned serious and he confided in me about the things in his past, so I knew what I was dealing when all this started. I am impressed that he was able to take such a negative series of events in his life and turn them into something positive. Most people when they fall into that way of life, never climb back out. Things were going well until that fateful day in July when he took some pain medication for his back and it caused him to fail a drug test, and violate his probation.

Now, back to the original story. On Tuesday, the morning after he told me there were warrants for his arrest, I went to work as normal. I spoke with my manager and asked him if I could leave early that afternoon. He agreed and as soon as 2pm rolled around, I raced home to be with Mr. Nascar. We sat on the couch together for a long time, going over plans and instructions and just spending quality time together. Eventually we went to the grocery store so I could make dinner, and then we rented a movie. About 9pm that evening, we sat down to eat dinner. I was getting something from the fridge in the kitchen when Mr. Nascar asked me about the strange car that was parked in the middle of the street in front of my apartment complex. I had never seen it before, and I got up to close the curtains. Mr. Nascar went into the kitchen to look out the window and noticed 2 police cruisers drive by. “They’re coming for me.” he said. “No, they can’t be. They don’t know you’re with me.” I replied. My heart was pounding and I felt like I was going to throw up everything I had just eaten. Suddenly the phone rang. I swear I almost wet myself. I was wound tighter than spring. It was only my mom and I told her I couldn’t talk right then. Mr. Nascar was still looking out the window so I went to my room. I threw myself on the bed and just completely went to pieces. I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. He climbed onto the bed with me and was holding me, rocking me gently trying to calm me down. “We can try to leave, if you want.” he told me. I disagreed. If they were coming to get him, I didn’t want to get myself into any trouble. He went over the instructions that he’d given me 3 or 4 more times. He kept saying to me “Do you understand?”. I finally yelled at him that I was just upset, not stupid. I was cold and couldn’t stop shaking. Looking back on it, I think I was going into shock.

Finally, the knock came at the door. “Answer the door, and don’t try to pretend I’m not here. Just let them in to come and get me, honey.” I agreed and went to answer the door. Two police officers were standing in my darkened door way. “Is Mr. Nascar here?” I just nodded my head and opened the door wider. They stepped inside and he came out from the bedroom. I will give the officers credit, they were very kind to both me and Mr. Nascar. I was standing in the hallway weeping and sniffling, and they told me it would be ok for me to come into the living room and sit beside him. He handed over his cell phone and his bank cards, kissed me good bye, and was handcuffed and led away.

That was 39 days ago today. So much has happened in those 39 days. The time has passed so quickly, and yet at the same time it has dragged on. I cannot believe that all happened more than a month ago. I miss him, terribly, each day. Bert© knows nothing. We told her that he needed to leave and help his brother with some family stuff in another state. He occasionally talks to her, but often just the thought of her is enough to make him cry, and he doesn’t want to make her upset. His brother has been kind enough to mail post cards from his state, on behalf of Mr. Nascar.

Stay tuned for the next exciting installment of bad crap that happens in my life!

The one where Mr.Nascar & Webmiss need your prayers

All,

I cannot go into detail at the moment but there have been some very bad things happen in the last week or so to Mr. Nascar. Both of us desperately need all the prayers, and finger crossings we can get.

Mr.Nascar basically needs a miracle, and I need the strength, courage, and faith to stand by him during this difficult time.

I’m sorry for not being there for any of my blog friends for the last month, but there have been some very heavy and emotionally stressful things happening in my life, beginning with the visit of TheEx. The majority of it occurring in the last 7 days.

I think of you all often, and wish that I could be there for you as everyone has something going on in their real life that they need support for. Hopefully my next blog entry will be a long update followed by some much needed good news.

Thank you all!

Webmiss