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4 months later

4 months later. I recognize the sunshine. I have good days. I am still not okay.

Someone posted an old picture of Dad on Facebook and I'm sitting in a spare office at work trying to stop crying.

It was a mistake watching Furious 7 just 3 weeks after Dad's death. Way too soon.

They dealt with Paul Walker's death perfectly. What a beautiful tribute to his life.

It would help if Dad hadn't been a car guy too.

Dad Memories: Aunt Linda's story

(My mother's sister sent this to be read at the funeral. Her health didn't allow her to attend.)

I remember all the good times and laughs we always had together. I had always heard an army travels on its stomach and I guess the Navy does too because we never missed a meal.

I called Doc whenever I had a problem with the car or something in the house. one time the water heater sprung a leak late at night. In a MacGyver moment he told me to make a drain out of aluminum foil from the top of the water heater down the side to a large bucket. Of course it worked just fine and got through the night until a plumber arrived.

Dad's eulogy

As promised, here is the eulogy my sister and I wrote for my father's funeral. We originally wanted to have this as his obituary, but to quote my mother "this is an obituary not a roast." So she didn't let us use this.

Eugene “Doc” Haught was born on May 14, 1943, in Los Angeles County, CA, to Fred “Baldy” Haught and Daisy “Shorty” Haught.  He was the last person you would think of being from LA.  He was practical and hated excess (unless it was an excess of food).  Doc was married for 41 years to Sue Haught, who luckily was not overly sensitive to smell, given his love of farting.  He has two daughters, Megan and Tamsen.  Megan inherited his love of bad humor and classic cars.  Tamsen, he once left at a rest stop on I-95.

 

Doc grew up in Southern Illinois where he enjoyed fishing and riding his old Harley.  He loved to ride off-road with his friend George, often through patches of poison ivy.  Magically he never got a rash from it, however it always seemed to infect his mother who washed his clothes.

 

He proudly served in the Navy, which is ironic, since whenever he went camping he would always spend 45 minutes searching for the perfect canoe, only for it starting leaking 5 minutes after getting out on the water.   You could also tell he served by the salty language he would use.  Once Christmas Eve, when his oldest daughter Megan was 7 years old, she heard a noise coming from the living room.  She drug her sister out to the landing of the stairs that overlooked the living room.  Below, they saw their father putting together Barbie’s Dream House swearing loudly.  This is how they both learned there was no Santa. He also referred to it as “that fucking dream house” for the remainder of his life.

 

He worked in construction prior to becoming an engineer.  He loved any opportunity to build with wood, building quite a bit of the furniture in his home.  At times, he got rather ambitious with his projects.  In fact, when his daughters begged for a tree house, he built a 3 floor split level playhouse with a balcony, porch with a porch swing, and rope to climb down the tree. It wasn’t technically a tree house though because it was not attached to the tree. It was more tree adjacent.

 

He travelled most of the U.S., and quite a bit of the world, obsessively taking pictures everywhere he went.  His pictures during his time in Japan were turned into an 8 hour slide show.  However in later years, half the pictures he would take would be of the backs of his family as they walked in front of him.  Once questioned by his daughter about all the pictures of her back, he replied “Just getting your best side.”

 

He could eat enough to fill 5 grown men, yet never managed to put on weight; a trait he selfishly did not pass on to his daughters.  After getting married, his wife Sue would pack a lunch so large that it filled a large brown paper grocery bag.  It included (every day), a dozen cookies which he would finish by 9 am.  His family sometimes wondered if he loved food as much, or more than them.  Once at a father daughter square dance, his daughter was talking to her best friend and her father, and they saw that people had started a line for the buffet (with chili, a favorite of Doc’s).  When his daughter looked around to see where her dad went, she found him at the front of the line.  By front, we mean the very first person in line.  He had ditched his daughter for food.

 

Doc was incredibly proud of his 21 year career at the Space Center, though you could not always tell by the way he described his job.  He described it by saying his job was to “piss on the shuttle to put the fire out.”

 

His great joy was coaching soccer.  He had learned to play once his daughter Tamsen became interested at the age of 6.  He would only coach girls though, because “they smell better and listen more, even if they don’t always follow instructions.”  He was always supportive of the girls he coached and he wanted them to learn not just skills, but the ability to coach themselves, how to recognize what you did wrong, and how best to correct it.

 

Doc was a great believer in self sufficiency.  Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day, teach a man to fish and he will stop bothering you for your fish.  His daughter once asked him, “how come you can push start a car with a manual transmission but not an automatic”.  His reply “you took physics, you should be able to figure it out yourself.”  He often used this technique to force people to rely on themselves, though sometimes, his family wondered if he did this because he did not know the answer and did not want to admit it.

 

Doc loved to talk to everyone.  A trip to Walmart that should take 5 minutes could end up taking an hour because he would wander around and “shoot the shit” with people.  Growing up, his daughters did not have real names, they were just Doc’s daughters.  When going to college, they thought that might change, but once there, he would meander the halls and chat to everyone from the facilities department (who he got to build a bookcase for his daughter Megan) to the registrar’s office to the main switchboard operator (Miss Peggy).  If he could not get a hold of either of his daughters, he would contact Miss Peggy and she would track them down for him, often yelling down the hall at his daughters, “call your father.”  So even in college they would be known as Doc’s daughters.  And really, what better compliment could there be.

Dad's Obituary

Eugene "Doc" Haught, 72, started his next big adventure on Saturday, August 29, 2015. Doc was married for 41 years to his enduring wife, Sue, and has two loving daughters, Megan and Tamsen.

Doc was a Navy Seabee for 8 years and served in Vietnam. He worked as an engineer for United Space Alliance for 21 years before retiring at the close of the shuttle program. Doc also coached girls soccer in the community and at Astronaut High. He was able to be a funny and positive, albeit smelly, influence for all the ladies he coached.

Doc loved nothing more than exchanging banter with anyone from family and friends to servers at restaurants and checkers at the store. Similar to a cat, he could nap in any position at anytime. Following the Seabee motto of "can do," he took pride in making things work. Skilled at carpentry and mechanics, he was even more skilled at avoiding anything on his "honey do" list. He would help out anyone in need as long as it didn't involve mowing the grass. He would drive for hours for good barbecue, but wouldn't cross the street for salad.

Doc loved his family. He loved to eat. He loved to nap. He loved to travel.

In lieu of flowers, his family asks for donations to be sent in his name to the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson's Research  or to Community Hospice of Northeast Florida.

In honor of Doc's memory, the family requests that attendees wear funny t-shirts or soccer shirts to the service.

We lost Dad

I've been putting off doing this post for over a week now. We lost Dad just over two weeks ago.

I'll tell the story of what happened as things go on and how we all learn to deal with our loss. This blog is one of the main ways I'll work through it all. I am horrifically bad about talking to people about things, but I can write it out without too much trouble.

Tomorrow I'll post the obituary I wrote and the day after I'll post the eulogy my sister and I put together that she read. Dad was a really interesting and funny guy and the eulogy really reflects that. Mom wouldn't let us do anything like that for the obit though.

Hopefully, while dealing with my grief, I can introduce you to the most interesting man I ever knew.

A saga of a different sort

I know I haven't really posted here in quite awhile. Things have been insane in the family and not in a good way. You'd better buckle in and get comfy. This is going to be a long story.

On a Tuesday at the end of February, Mom had her annual mammogram. Two days later on Thursday, she got a registered letter from the hospital where she had the mammogram telling her to call them immediately. Of course, the letter arrived while they were closed for lunch so Mom got to freak out for an hour waiting until they were answering the phones again. They scheduled her to come in the next day for another mammogram and a sonogram on her right breast. This confirmed their original finding of a 8mm round hard lump behind the nipple.

The following week she saw her GYN who referred her to an oncologist who did a biopsy in his office. During the appointment, he assured her that it was probably nothing. You can guess where this might be going. On March 1st, we got the biopsy results back. She has breast cancer. You can understand that life blew up into a mind-boggling mass of insanity. Hell, I've been coping with everything for months and am still tearing up as I write this.

The oncologist (who specialized in surgery) and his assistant (who I'm going to refer to as the twit because she insensitive bit of fluff who couldn't return a phone call in under 3 days) had Mom come in for another consult. The twit had been talking up lumpectomies and how easy it was so Mom thought that's what the appointment would be about. First words out of the doctor's mouth were can't save the nipple so you're having a mastectomy.  Mom then missed a good chunk of the appointment because she was trying not to pass out. She was also needed to have an MRI done. The sis flew down for a previously scheduled visit and was the one to drive Mom to the MRI at Winnie Palmer on (another) Thursday. While there Mom told the twit that she didn't want a call on Friday (the next day) because it was her anniversary and my sister was here. Well, the twit called Mom's cell while she and Dad were out to dinner and told her the MRI had found a lump on the other breast (actually a mirror image of where it was in the right). Mom asked if anything could be done immediately and the twit told her not until Monday.

In the midst of this part, we found out the tumors were estrogen/progesterone reactive. This necessitated a speedy call to the GYN to remove Mom's Mirena (progesterone IUD). Mom called them at 10:43 am on a Friday and they gave her an appointment at 11:35 am that day. I managed to get her to the office which is about an hour away in 41 minutes in the pouring rain. I'm both proud and appalled by that fact.

None of us were happy with the care she was getting there or the bedside manner. Sis and I, with the help of a family friend who is like a sister to us, did some research and found Moffitt Cancer Center. Mom scheduled an appointment there. I must say, the staff at Moffitt is fantastic. They are kind and helpful and can return a phone call in under 2 hours. Her surgeon at Moffitt biopsied the other lump and it was cancer as well. Everyone thought they'd be able to do a double lumpectomy and save both nipples. Her surgery was scheduled for March 30th. This, of course, required time off for both Dad and I and several days over in Tampa. The hotel we stayed at (a Hampton Inn) has special rates for Moffitt patients and a shuttle over to the center. There's also a Starbucks two buildings over. This was a lifesaver. 

I think we were at the hospital by 8 am on the day of the surgery even though it wasn't scheduled until 1:45 pm. Mom had multiple appointments before hand. After she was all set up to go back, Dad and I (in what probably seemed like an uncaring move) went to lunch but neither of us had eaten since breakfast at the hotel. The cafeteria there is pretty good, by the way, a bitch to find, but good. During the surgery, he wandered about the waiting room some, worked on a puzzle, and read a Reader's Digest. I finished off Frankenstein's Monster and watched The Losers, which was real sanity saver for me. I desperately needed the distraction from worrying. (I also now own both books of the comic too). Everything went fine. The sentinel node biopsies were negative. She was out of surgery around 5 pm and we all headed home a little after 7 pm. Yes, it was outpatient. The next day she was a little grumpy and had some swelling.

Two weeks later, (while she was still milking the lifting restrictions) she had palpitations and had Dad come home from work to drive her to the emergency room. It was diagnosed as atrial fibrillation which they think was brought on from low potassium levels. This earned her a Wednesday night stay at the hospital where her RN was one of the girls Dad had coached in soccer. (This is a smallish town and I swear Dad knows everybody.) Two days later on Friday, she came down with a fever of 103 and I drove her to the walk-in clinic since our doctor's office had closed for the day. They did blood work and ended up calling in some antibiotics for her later that night.  Dad drove her back on that Sunday because she still had the fever and they ended up scheduling an appointment for her with the surgeon she saw at Moffitt. The surgeon diagnosed it as celluitis and had Mom finish up the antibiotics she had before starting another round. Since it started two weeks after the surgery they don't think that was the cause. They think it might have been from Mom trying to shave under her arms and knicking herself. Yes, Mom got yelled at for shaving her pits.

The genetic results on the tumors came back early in May and gave Mom a low chance at occurrence. Moffitt set her up with appointments with a radiation oncologist and a regular oncologist. Because of Mom's age and the genetic results, she's not going to be doing chemo (which Mom is thrilled over), instead she'll go on an estrogen blocker this summer. The radiation oncologist gave Mom two options for treatment: a 3 week course once a day, or a 1 week course twice a day. Apparently, for those who fit a strict criteria (which Mom does), the 5 year success rate is the same for both.

Mom chose the 1 week plan and went through it last week. This week she is feeling a little sore but is doing pretty well.

That's the story minus a little yelling and tears. Everyone is doing okay but I think I may have missed a few things with all of this going on.

Crafty for Mother's Day

So I decided to get all crafty for Mother's Day again this year with a new photo theme. I scanned through my photos and chose one of Mercer House from a trip to Savannah last August. Using Photoshop, I cropped it so just the center, second story window was showing and made it black and white. Then, using extract, I removed all the window panes.

Don't worry. It'll get cleaned up more later.

 

For the next step, I started looking through all my photos of myself, my sister and my mom. They all got resized and cropped into the shape of the window panes. My technique for this was probably cheating but it worked. I copied the above picture and pasted it over the one I was using then moved it until the appropriate pane was centered over it. Then I drew a line on the original photos layer to outline it and cropped it using extract. Once that was done, I copied and pasted the edited photo into the working copy of the window above where I situated it over the pane I wanted and cleaned up the edges using the eraser tool. I ended up with 19 layers in the final version of the photo.

 

I printed out the photo (8 x 10) using a Kodiak kiosk at my local Target. By the way, the Kodiak kiosks don't recognize PNG as a graphic file. I use it as my default and had to go back home and save it as a JPG to print it. I even had a huge rant on the way home about how PNG was a perfectably acceptable format for an image.

 

Next comes the more complicated part. I wanted a brightly colored (preferably red) frame for the photo, but the store only had 8 x 10 frames in black, white and silver. While standing in the frame section thinking, "crap," I remembered a photocraft book I had read through a few years ago. One of the projects involved a mirror so I toddled one aisle over to look at mirrors. I found a 16 x 16 mirror (including frame) with a lime green frame for $5.

 

At home, I sliced off the paper cover on the back (they were serious when they glued that sucker down). I then measured and marked the center points on each side. I did the same for the photo. Next, I place the photo (face up) on the back, centered it, and marked off the corners and sides on the mirror back. I then used a razor blade (you can buy single edged blades at any hardware or home improvement store) to scrape off the backing. About halfway through, I started hoping that what I was scraping off wasn't toxic. I think I managed to convince myself that it wasn't. (If it is, don't tell me now.)

 

Once the backing was off, the silver had to be scraped away. I was wiping the mirror back down with a damp paper towel as I went when I noticed that it scrapped off easier when wet. The brilliant idea occurred to me that maybe an acid would help take it off better so I left a vinegar soaked rag on the part I wasn't working on and then kept switching up the space.

 

The total time scraping the backing and silver off the mirror was about 3 and a half hours. It took forever. I've now got some interesting calluses on my fingers from the razor blade and my hands smelled like vinegar for about a day.

 

Finished frame. Ignore the reflection of the popcorn ceiling.

 

All the effort was worth it though. Mom loved the photo and frame.

 

Total cost: under $8

Total time: ~10 hours (there was some digging through physical albums and scanning involved)

Woohoo! Finally!

I had a doctor's appointment today to go over my blood work result and check my back after throwing it out of whack on January 17th.  I feel good.  I've been exercising, eating well, and taking my fish oil pills. I was hoping for good news and was not disappointed.

 

First the B12 results.  If you read this blog, you've seen the struggle with this since last July when I developed neurological symptoms and got the initial diagnosis. 

B12 level in July:	B12 level now:
173	522

Yes, I finally hit over 500 where my doctor wanted me. This means that my current dosage is good. I'm happy with this. I'm not so happy with having to do an injection every other week for the rest of my life, but it could be much worse.

 

Now for the cholesterol. I've been getting grief about this for a few years now from my doctor. I don't like taking statins because they mess with my short term memory. I've tried diet before but it never had much effect. My current combination of diet (heavy on the greens) and exercise seems to be helping. So has the 10 lbs I've lost since starting the routine in January. I've also been taking 1,200 mg of fish oil twice a day.

	November 10th results:	January 25th results:	Desired Range:
Total:	247	190	<200
HDL:	36	32	>50
LDL:	158	121	<130
Triglycerides:	267	183	<150

That's a great reduction. I still have some work for the triglycerides and need to get the HDL up to 50, but all in all, it looks okay. I'd worry about the HDL more if my mom didn't have the same troubles with it that haven't been fixed with either diet, exercise or medication.

 

So it was a good appointment. We'll see how it all goes at my next check-up in 6 months. Random note: My fasting glucose dropped to 92 from 96.

 

I've also gotten permission to donate blood at Dragon*Con this year. I might have to take an iron supplement for a week or so ahead of time but it'll be the first time I've been able to donate in years.

How did I not know?

I've never thought of my self as an outcast or outsider.  Yes, I hung around with the outliers in high school but I also hung around with honor students and athletes too.  I guess I thought I fit a little into most of the groups.

This weekend, while I was sick, I got sucked into the Glee marathon on Oxygen.  I'd never actually seen it before. I know.  Bad Maggie.  8 pm just isn't a good TV watching time for me on week nights. As much as I love musical theater and tend to break out into song and dance on my own (remind me to tell you about doing Singing in the Rain across the high school parking lot sometime), I just missed getting into it at the beginning.

Well, during "Never Been Kissed," something Will said to the Beast really struck me.  I believe my precise reaction was, "Fuck, I am one of the outcasts." How I never realized this before is beyond me. Unless, of course, I realized it and then promptly forgot/went into denial.  I guess I never associate geek with outcast. 

By the by, Puck and Kurt are my favorites.  Kurt is too darling for words.