Home again, home again, jiggity jig

Home. Home is where the heart is. Home is where the cat is. Home, most importantly, is where The Bed is. I am back, snuggled into the large and ample bosom of Denver.

I'm really too tired and overwhelmed to be witty and chatty and clever. It's been one heck of a week. Folks, I buried my dad on Saturday. I watched my father being lowered into the ground. I hugged relatives, friends, and folks I haven't seen in ages. Funerals are the most bizarre way to have a reunion.

I even met someone named Cornbread (or Tommy, but my dad always called him Cornbread). And, as Phil is quick to correct, we discovered that Tommy is actually Little Cornbread. That's the kind of family history that every clan should relish. Mmm, cornbread and relish...

I'll get back to you tomorrow. In the meantime, I need to leave a large and lasting imprint on my side of the bed.

Stan Farris memorial

For anyone who is interested in signing the guestbook or viewing the obituary for Stan Farris (Stanley Farris), you can go to these links:

San Antonio Express News - Stanley R. Farris obituary and guestbook

Marshall News Messenger - Stanley Russell Farris obituary and guestbook


I'm posting this in case anyone is looking for my father via an Internet search. He was very fond of family history, geneology, and the like.

(Phil and I wrote the obituary. I hope it made you proud, Dad.)

How to have a reunion

How to have a reunion:

Let a beloved family member pass away. Add funeral arrangements, obituaries printed and online, and a million phone calls and e-mails. Shake until stirred. See who shows up.

It looks like every person my dad, my family and I have ever known will be sending condolences or showing up in person. I've had many, many conversations with people who worked with my father, some of whom I knew as well when I was yay-high with blonde curls. The airplane people are the funny, crazy ones. Some remember stories about flying me upside down in their planes, or buzzing our little airplane and scaring the hell out of my dad and me as we tried to land. Oh, you crazy pilots. How you love to almost kill each other.

I bought clothes today for the services. Although I packed for crazy Texas weather, I did not pack for a funeral. Shopping for funeral clothing must be at an all time low of things I enjoy doing. Meh. Bleah. Etc, etc. Yadda yadda yadda.

Here is a pic I posted today on Myspace. This was taken right after my mother apparently had upset me in one way or another. Then, Dad made it all better. That's what dads do, I guess. These are probably my favorite pics of me with my dad.

Details and such

I think I'm going to become a funeral director. Apparently, it is the way to riches. I watched enough episodes of "Six Feet Under" to know what to say. Start with, "I'd like to offer our condolences, and also our current special on forever memorials with DVD and website, along with a keepsake pendant and the Sports Illustrated football phone..."

Before I go into my spitfire rant about arranging a funeral, I will post the necessary info for those of you who may want to attend the viewing, the service, or send whatever it is that people send during these times. It's all new to me, my friends.

• Viewing: Thursday, March 27, at Goetz Funeral Home in Seguin, TX (Seguin is east of San Antonio) at 714 N. Austin St, Seguin, TX. Viewing hours are 2pm - 9pm. I'm sure I'll be there the entire time. This is a simple viewing for local folks who can't make it to East Texas for the burial. Directions to the funeral home are provided in the link.
• Graveside service: Saturday, March 29 at 1pm, at Woodlawn Cemetery in Woodlawn, TX (between the East Texas towns of Marshall and Jefferson off of Highway 59). Arrangements made courtesy of Downs Funeral Home, Marshall, TX. Flowers, donations, etc. can be sent to Downs Funeral Home. Pastor Bill Buchanan of Jefferson, TX, who knows my family well, will be officiating.
  
• Obituaries will be posted Wednesday in the San Antonio Express News and the Marshall News Messenger. Also, an online posting will be available with the Seguin Gazette, and Seguin radio station KWED 1580 AM will broadcast the obituary.

Phil and I are writing up a nice obituary tonight about my dad's life. Despite all the spit and vinegar, he was one heck of a guy who lived one heck of a fascinating life. I hope the plans we made will do him proud.

Too tired tonight to keep writing the blog. Will continue tomorrow. Until then, folks.

Stan the man

I don't have much to say. Kinda empty. When alone, I fall apart. I try to stay around Phil, Amos, or other family.

Here is my dad, my mom, Phil, and Amos back in October of 2007. Phil and I drove down to Texas with Amos when he was 4 months old, and my parents met him for the first time.

Yes, that is an orb in the photo. If it isn't a speck of dust floating in front of the camera, then I suspect it was my very vocal grandmother giving us a big shout out. Word, Grandma.

Words cannot say

Stanley Russell Farris - my father, my hero, my troubles, and the reason I met Phil - is gone.

Today at 5pm, we turned off the machines. At 5:39pm, my father passed away. It was a peaceful passing with many family members present. I held his hand and stroked his face and forehead and he slipped away.

I could say more about why we needed to turn off the machines, the talk I had to have with my father last night about the fact that he was dying and we were asked to make a choice... but I am spent. Phil is here. He started driving here last night and arrived about 1 1/2 hours after my father died. You have never seen a more joyful yet sorrowful reunion between a wife and a husband. Phil viewed my father with me.

We are in the process of making arrangements. I'll post them for anyone who is interested in attending or sending their thoughts.

Thank you to everyone who has helped me through this. You, my friends, have been my rock.

And so it goes

Headed back to the family homestead today to deal with more and then more. Bleah. At least we had fun while it lasted.

Yesterday, Amos stomped on the water, tiptoed through the little waves, and ate sand. That last one was not condoned by his mother. I showed him how to operate his little shovel and bucket, but every once in awhile the temptation was too great. The sand was meant to be nibbled.

I've determined that in some distant future, Phil and I should come back down to Rockport to let our wee babe run wild across the beach. Amos loved the bay so much that when we returned after our long day of walking and beaching, he looked up to me several times with an expression of wonderment that said, "Did we REALLY just DO that?!" My wee man is a lover of the sea.

Spring is just around the corner, my friends. Hope springs eternal. Or something.

Pelicans, cranes, and booze... oh, my!

Here is an audio/visual feast for your senses. The pics are courtesy of my cell phone, so please excuse the lack of quality.

Mobile post sent by imaginary binky using Utterz. Replies. mp3

Mama and Amos at the bay, enjoying the breeze at Off the Hook restaurant.

Look out! Pelicans! Look out! Hide your babies!

Amos loves his aunt and the ocean!







Sarah loves her sister and shiraz!






Hope that satisfies your picture needs for the moment. More to come after today's beach romp.

Parting the sea

Well, well. Even bad weather follows me to my seaside paradise.

Tornado warnings are popping up everywhere. Funnel spotted on the ground, headed toward Port Aransas. Head to the hills, spring break kids!

I'm guessing this is not the best time to take my tot to the sandy beach for fun and sun. I can hear the winds whipping around outside. The weather radio screeches occasionally, warning the locals to head for shelter and/or laugh at the unsuspecting tourists. Ah, spring break. What a fine mess it is.

I wonder... do the pelicans strap themselves to the piers when tornadoes pop up? Do they huddle together and form a windbreak with their beaks? Do they lick their webbed feet and stick them in the air to test the wind direction?

I think I have a thing for pelicans. I hope they survive the hellish winds... and spring break.

George Strait says hello

He lives over there, in the house with the yacht.

Coming at you in salt-O-vision. I am indeed in Rockport, TX! I have seen the bay, and ye, it was deemed good.

Amos put his tiny tootsies into the Gulf of Mexico waters. At first, he would tremble as the wee waves lapped at his feet. Then, I picked him up slightly so that he could stomp his feet into the sand. After he regained his moxie, he stomped at the waves and swayed his face in the brisk breeze. The boy is a mariner, after all.

I held on tight to him, lest a stray giant pelican come by and steal him away to a lonely pier. I will not lose my child to a bird with a shopping cart for a beak.

My dad is starting to pull through. He is on an oxygen mask now, off of the ventilator. No pneumonia has been found. There are sprigs of hope that he will slowly but surely pull through. He will continue to be surly and nasty to us, I'm sure, but at least he might live.

Off to drink my wine, dry my hair, and enjoy the catfish fry that my bro-in-law has in store for us. I plan to take Amos for a long walk to the beach and park tomorrow. He now has tiny Little Swimmers swimming diapers and his very own bucket and shovel.

Yeehaw, y'all!

The salty wind cries... Sarah

Okay. Here is a disclaimer, as my previous plans went awry when I thought I would be going home. I may or may not be going to the Texas coast for a couple of days. There, Fate. Are you happy now?

With that disclaimer out of the way, here goes...

Since my father is not going anywhere and his condition is stable and unchanged (meaning, sedated and relying on a ventilator to breathe), I am considering taking Amos down to Rockport, TX for a few days to visit with my sister. I've never been to Rockport, although Phil and I spent a great deal of time in the Corpus Christi and Port Aransas areas when we were young pups in love. Now, I have the chance to take the pup of our loins to see the ocean for the first time. How cool is that, eh?

Rockport is a bayside artist colony. I want to eat on a restaurant deck overlooking the water. I want to see my wee man playing in the sand and feeling the ocean waters lap at his belly. I want to breathe in the salt air and relax for even just a moment. Sounds nice, no?

So, my friends. Perhaps I will be staring at the bay tomorrow. Let's cross our fingers.

You crazy kids

Haha! Thank you for your contributions yesterday. I appreciate the mirth.

No need for folks to drive forever to come tend to me. I am okay. Sort of. But mostly okay. My sister is here as well, so that takes some of the burden off of me.

In the meantime, Amos has discovered that he can prop up on his legs and do a crawl-walk. He uses this maneuver to try to pull himself up onto chairs, tables, and everything else that his head likes to bang into. So far over the course of two days, he has two big bruises on his forehead with another on the way. I am beginning to look like a bad mother.

Maybe we should have ordered the corrective helmet for him, eh? Heheh.

Back to the hospital today. Dad is still sedated and is "sleeping" every hour of the day. Oh, the fun part? He is in restraints because he flails around from the drugs and has once tried to pull out everything. I had a dream last night that he ran away from a mental institution and told us that he wants to be free and to let him go. Is this hospital bed communication? Am I just expressing guilt because I know what he is thinking right now? Ugh, I say.

No sleep till Brooklyn

Going back to San Antonio today. No news yet or updates, but that's probably because I'm delaying calling the doctor so that I don't hear one more bad thing. Avoidance, anyone?

I'll be back on here eventually. How about in the meantime, you tell me stories of mirth and fun from your own life? Let's hear of joy around here.

Not so fast, Mrs. Porter...

Ugh. UGH!!!!

I will not be leaving. I am hog-tied to Texas, whether I like it or not.

My father has taken a turn for the worse. He is in respiratory failure. A ventilator is doing the breathing for him. It is possibly pneumonia. The doc doesn't know if Dad's body can take it. He has been in the ICU for quite some time now.

He is sedated, unable to talk or yell at me for "killing" him. Yeah, folks. That's part of the reason I wanted to leave. I was being blamed for his own mistakes. Thanks, Dad.

Now, we wait. Will he pull through? Will he need to have a tracheotomy? Am I preparing to plan a funeral?

Rest while you can, Mrs. Porter. The trick, she is not done yet.

The eyes of Texans are seeing my backside

While Andy takes my baby away for a tour of the house, I am writing to you from the lovely home of my friends Allison and Andy in Austin. Yes, Amos n' Andy are together again. Har har har.

Sorry to disappoint, but I am on my way home. I will likely fly to Denver tomorrow. Things just became... too much. My dad will either pull out of this or not. There is nothing I can do to sway the scales.

It was a hard decision, but several outside family members, my love Phil, and friends have stepped up to say, "Sarah, enough. You don't need to kill yourself, too." Well, then. Okay. It's nice to have someone else making the decisions for a bit.

So, home for Amos and me. Today, I will relax in Austin, drink coffee, admire Allison's gardens, and breathe without worrying who it affects around me. Normal will be found again. I'm sure I'll be back soon, either to help with my dad or to bury him. Life is strange.

So, Chuy's, perhaps I will eat you today. Maybe I will scarf another bite of Taco Cabana. Whatever. As long as I keep seeing that smile on Amos' face, I know I'm doing the right thing.

Virgin sacrifice

Aside from the ugliness of the situation, sometimes nice things happen here.

Take Amos, for instance.

Today, the wee man had a taste of his first teething biscuit. A genuine cookie! Sure, it was organic and made of barley instead of wheat because I'm an anal mother who wants to avoid allergies... but still. He had a cookie.

Holy cow, is this boy happy.

He decided to anoint every object with his soppy cookie. He would suck on the biscuit, chew thoughtfully, then touch the cookie to some random object. Then, repeat the process. I guess this is like thanking the gods for providing such a bountiful and delicious snack from a box. Soon, I expect to see his stuffed monkey burning on an altar as an offering.

Did I mention that wine is delicious? Yes. It is.

Did I also mention that I almost booked a flight home today out of complete and utter frustration?

Oh, yes. I almost did.

I think it's time I sucked on a cookie, too.

Jim's is good fer what ails ye

I could unload all kinds of unpleasantness on you in this blog, but frankly, I've talked about it with so many relatives, doctors, nurses, x-ray techs, and one belligerent old man that I'm just not ready to say it all again. So, here's the short version of the past 24 hours:

• diabetes
• aspiration
  
• feeding tube
• insertion of feeding tube into the stomach tomorrow
• possible endoscope tomorrow
• miracle worker of a cardiologist who may be able to perform a three way stent on the left main artery to substitute for bypass surgery (meaning: less invasive, less risky vs. this surgery will kill you)
• did I mention the belligerent patient?

See what happens when I take the day off?

In the meantime, I had a great dinner with my aunt and uncle that I haven't seen in a very long time. They were like my second set of parents, and I love them dearly. They stayed all day today and will be back tomorrow.

We ate at Jim's. The same Jim's Restaurant where Phil and I had our first date over 14 (jeez! almost 15!) years ago. It was great to take Amos there to complete the circle. I had meatloaf, MEATLOAF, people! I felt like a little kid again, chewing my mashed taters and meatloaf. It was nice to have a moment of respite while other restaurant patrons cooed over Amos. Life felt a little normal.

Gotta go. The munchkin is melting down. I don't think meatloaf will fix it.

Let's pretend

Let's pretend that this blog will make up for all the lost blogs and lost boys from the past few weeks that have gone astray. Let's pretend that tonight's blog will distract me from the wafting odor of Amos funk that is emanating from his backside. Let's pretend that there are roses in the room, or a good dose of Fabreeze.

I'm borrowing my sister's computer again. Yay for relatives! I skipped school today. I played hookie. Yeah, so what? You can't make me go to the hospital every day. Go ahead, make me. Nah nah nah nah nah.

Good things...

Amos is officially crawling. I mean CRAWLING. He crawled to me today, which I think melts every mother's soul. Thankfully, he is crawling away from me right now with his load of diaper stench. Yeah, I'll change him soon. Stop naggin' me! It's actually a little funny to watch him right now. He is squealing his pterodactyl squeal that means "I DID SOMETHING IN MY BRITCHES!!!" while pitifully crawling around the kitchen floor. Periodically, he is distracted by a thing to pull or smack or grasp. Verily I say unto you, this boy needed a day off as well.

The pterodactyl squeal has reached critical mass. I guess I must go.

Don't say I didn't try to bloggity blog for ya. Blame it on the extinct yells of a flying dinosaur with dirty drawers.

The wind doth bloweth

Sitting at the breakfast table at the folks' house. My sister has a wireless Internet thingy that works here, so I'm borrowing her computer. Amos is on the floor, grunting and squealing at his toys. We've discussed the weather a great deal. Cantaloupe has been consumed.

I'm worn out, folks. Today, there will be more visitors to take the burden from me. Yay for that!

More updates later. I must say, when I call Phil at the end of the day and he reads to me all of your comments, it really helps me to finish the day with a smile. You kids rock mightily.

Keep on rockin' in the free world, my friends. Happy Sunday.

Here in the darkness

"Here in the darkness." That's what the cheesy Muzak station song just played. Oh, brother. Has a verse ever been more appropriate?

I'm at Schlotzky's at 281 and Loop 1604 in San Antonio. Sweet, sweet Internet. Life is more complicated, day by day.

The results of my father's angiogram were grim, to say the least. He has three main artery blockages, including the left main. One is completely blocked. The others are described as "severely diseased." His lungs are in horrible shape, littered with emphysema, from years and years of heavy smoking. (Stop smoking, all of you, or I'll hunt you down. You should know better.) There is a possibility of colon cancer. It's just one bad thing after another. Frankly, I'm shocked the man is still alive.

The cardiologist in New Braunfels was so alarmed about my father's health that he moved him into the ICU "just in case." He listed my dad in "critical condition." Then, he requested a transfer to Northeast Baptist Hospital in San Antonio to be evaluated for an emergency heart bypass surgery. Dad was transferred to the new hospital location yesterday. Cardiologists, internists, gastroenterologists, dieticians, and tons of other people have been evaluating him.

At first, it was cut and clear that he would have bypass surgery on Monday. Then, the docs saw the state of his health (extremely malnourished) and decided that operating now would probably kill him. Then, they thought that perhaps a colonoscopy should be done to investigate whether he has colon cancer, to find out why he has been wasting away. There are many reasons why he is so scarily thin, but cancer could be yet another. Today, they decided that he is in such a fragile state with his heart, his skinniness, and his lungs that he might not even survive a colonoscopy (due to sedation).

IT SUCKS, PEOPLE.

I've already been told to prepare the family for the worst, "just in case." Instead of being a walking timebomb, he's a stagnating timebomb since he doesn't walk anymore. I can't believe just how bad off this man is. It's heartbreaking. He didn't tell our family any of his troubles, he hid things, and it took an army of people and me becoming the enemy to get him to treatment. And now, here we are.

If it was just congestive heart failure, we could deal with it. If it was just bypass surgery, we could deal with it. If it was just emphysema... if it was just malnourishment. But all of them? Really?!

The best I can do now is keep him in good spirits while he is pumped and primed with stuff. I had to remove my mom, sister, Amos, and me from his room awhile ago because he was throwing yet another fit about his low-salt diet. He refuses to eat most of the time. He is one of the smartest men I've ever known, but the man who exists there today is a child. One moment, he's incredible and loving. The next, I'm being attacked for unknown reasons. It's just... too... much.

There are brighter sides to the picture, I suppose. Sometimes things are okay. We need a genuine miracle for him to pull through this.

So, uh, how about them San Antonio Spurs? Do you think they'll go all the way this year? Huh? How about those SPURS???!!!!

Sorry, folks. I'm just so incredibly done with all of this. I'm the primary contact for the hospital. I'm the one everyone, including relatives, calls. I take care of my mom, my son, and my dad. I make sure that when he's choking, the nurses take care of him. I'm everything to everyone right now. I'd like a piece of me right now, too.

Good God, I miss Phil.

The upside? My Schlotzky's sandwich was delicious.

Drama happens, redux

Once again with the drama. Please stand by.

Please stand by

Busy. Drama. Back to you soon.

I dreamed of a circle

Sarah here. Phil posted a short time ago, so go read his ramblings as well.

I'm in the traffic circle again, or, aside the circle as it were. Mom, Amos, and I are keeping ourselves together as we wait for Dad to have his angiogram right now. It's also called a cardio catheter, but it basically is a catheter inserted through the femoral artery in the groin up to the heart. They will inject dye into the cardiac arteries to find blockages or whatever there might be. Although it is a common procedure, there is a 1 in 1,000 chance that something will go wrong. And that's what we're trying to avoid thinking about.

His CT scan showed nothing except for the fluid around the chest cavity and lungs that we already knew was there. So, here we are in the circle, waiting for that old man to survive his catheter.

Things are mostly well otherwise. I've managed to drive about 600 miles in a week and a half. I was scheduled to fly home today, and folks, that just ain't happenin'. Gasoline is ungodly expensive, and I'm starkly aware again that living in the boonies requires a great deal of fuel. I curse you, oil companies.

Amos and Mom have bonded nicely, and last night we marveled as Hilary took Texas in the primaries. I stopped at Whole Foods in San Antonio last night. It was nice to be in a place that was at least somewhat familiar to my usual routine.

Well, Amos is cranky and I must eat. Thanks again for all of the thoughts, prayers, and comments. It really does make make a lil' lady feel better.



Also: A question was asked of me via Twitter. Lasix, one of the diuretics given to my Dad, is working wonders. He has lost 21 lbs of fluids from his body so far. Good grief, eh?!

PhilOsophy - Ever Vigilant

Hey, Internet friends, it's your old pal, Phil, here offering up today's "celebrity" guest blog. Sarah continues to tend to the family situation in Texas. Things there are going as well as can be expected. I'm sure she'll cover that in a future blog. I returned yesterday from my weekend at her ancestral home, where I helped the family and tended to our bouncing baby boy, who now seems to have two speeds: sound asleep and constant motion. By combining all of his means of locomotion, Amos is able to roll, tumble, and crawl his way all over the place. It's quite a sight.

I took the red eye back from San Antonio yesterday morning, arriving before dawn to catch my 6:20 flight home. To combat terrorism, we're all supposed to be watching out for suspicious characters during any airport visit, but I learned something important yesterday: At five o'clock in the morning, everybody looks suspicious. Are those people half asleep or deep in contemplation of nefarious deeds? Is that man sleeping or scheming? Do my red eyes indicate tiredness or conceal a hopped-up mind bent on badness? Yes, at that hour, I even became suspicious of myself.

After convincing myself that I was not up to no good, I was able to ease my mind enough to drift off to sleep shortly after enjoying my in-flight snack of a cup of orange juice and a cracker, so if any trouble occurred during the flight, the neer-do-wells were kind enough to keep the racket down and avoid interrupting my sleep. Or maybe they also fell asleep and failed to execute their plans. I know I always choose a sound slumber over mayhem.

OK. That's all for now. I'm sure Sarah will have updates soon. She certainly appreciates all of the kind words that have been posted here.

Watching the traffic circle

Well, my friends, things are what they are. Every day, we go to the hospital. Every day, we watch my father get a little bit better. Every day, I dread when he must come home from the hospital. That is when game plans and action must be taken to keep the man alive. Ugh.

We're at a little coffee/sandwich shop on the downtown traffic circle in New Braunfels. Phil is feeding Amos, Mom is staring out the window and marveling at New Braunfels traffic at it goes round and round the circle. And me? Well, I'm holding in there.

Life is good while Phil is here. I take him to the airport EARLY in the morning, and then I'm back to juggling baby, two parents, and lots of other burdens. I think I can handle it better this time around now that Dad is getting his parts fixed up. He is still diagnosed with congestive heart failure. We do not know the cause as of yet, as a CAT scan last night showed nothing unusual. He will probably need to have a probe thingy inserted up the groin and toward the heart to see what else can be found. I asked one of the nurses if she were to put Dad on a scale of 1 to 10 of severity of congestive heart failure, where he would be. She puts him at a solid 7. So, as I suspected, the man is very, very sick.

Mom is having seizures every day. I caught her this morning just before she was going to fall over. The neurologist has upped the dosage of her meds, and we are slowly increasing them over a period of weeks. I will be so happy when the day arrives that she no longer has the seizures, or "spells" as my folks like to call them.

Amos is well. I am well. Phil is my great big giant rock o' love (not to be confused with Bret Michaels). I will miss him somethin' terrible when he leaves tomorrow.

I read a few blogs today. I see my friends continuing their lives, talking about the same ol' stuff, and getting on with their daily things. My life is changing on a moment to moment basis, and it's hard to get a grasp or even a breath sometimes, but I'm doing what I can. We talk about moving, selling, or bringing the folks to live with us. It's all so much up in the air. So much to do. So much to talk about.

Change, even when it's a good thing, is always an adjustment.

Alrighty. Time to turn the 'puter over to Phil so that he can check his various doings. I hope all of you are well, and I thank you so much for your thoughts, prayers, and comments. Having friends around right now is making it all that much brighter for me.

Signing off. See ya around the back side of the circle.

Drama happens

Busy. Back to you soon.

Stuck in the middle with you

Hey, folks. Okay, okay. HOWDY, FOLKS!! That's more like it. Very Texan of me. I'd give you the two finger salute from the steering wheel like all of my rural brethen around here, but this is the Internet. Just imagine that we drove by each other in pickup trucks, and you and I simultaneously nodded at each other and gave the two-finger salute.

Dad is getting a wee bit better every day. Phil is here (THANK GOD!!!!!), and we are taking a wee break at 2 Rivers Coffee House in New Braunfels while Dad sleeps. Mom is there with him, as it should be.

I just blanked out. I realize I have nothing clever or witty to say, as all of my focus is on my family. Sorry. I'll be back to fighting form someday soon.

Alrighty. Sorry to not be meeting up with anyone around here. Thank you to everyone who has left comments and such. You kids rock. I need all the pep talks I can get.

Now to drink coffee and rev up for the fam. See ya soon.