At a loss..

Okay-- the events in Russia have just crashed down on my heart. I find myself "at a loss", but certainly not for words. This may end up having absolutely *nothing* to do fundamentally with the tragic situation that occured in Russia this week, read about it here: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/5881958/

Anybody who knows me knows that I have always had a soft spot for children. I'm a sucker for peanut butter-smeared faces, sticky hands and clothes that are covered with paint.

Before I gave birth to my own son-- I had, if you will, a "practice child." My best friend in the entire world, my other half-- Amber, gave birth to a beautiful baby girl in September of 1996, otherwise known as the beginning of our Senior Year. A little background on me and Amber, we have known each other since we were 10 years old and members of the Arlington Girls City Choir, yes--readers, once upon a time, Rosanna could sing.

We didn't go to the same school at the time, only saw each other at rehearsals-- so there was no *real* friendship. Then, once we got to junior high-- we fought over the same best friend (ahh-- to be in junior high again and worrying about "what really matters") We hated each other. Could *not* stand each other. Sad thing was-- it was for no good reason. Upon entering the same high school, we became fast friends when *THE BEST FRIEND* we had battled over moved across town and into another school. We bonded over coffee at "Fire and Ice" (ahh-- you will be missed), and then went through very scary times. Over Christmas break our Junior Year, Amber reunited with her *loser* of an ex-boyfriend, and promptly found herself knocked up. I can still remember ditching Chemistry class (sorry Mr. Collins) the day the stick turned blue. But one thing was for sure-- my *very* determined best friend was having a baby. No question about it.

And thus-- Kristin came into our lives.

Ahh-- Kristin. My raison d^etre. The source of many nights of the only happiness I could find at the time. You all remember. High school sucks-- and it consumes every moment and breath imaginable. Especially when you *aren't* hanging out with a lot of high school kids. The only people my own age I was hanging with at the time were Amber and my good friend, Rachel. Other than that-- it was people who I worked with, who were all older. Good times. (well--maybe not all of them--but overall-- GOOD.) And when Kristin burst on the scene at 7 lbs, 3 oz.. everyone we knew pretty much scattered. But I *had* to be there for Amber. I can remember when she was going through SEVERE post-partum depression, her mother would turn me away at the door, and I would whisper through the crack at a crying Amber, "I love you, sweetie. And I'm here if you need me." and I would see a glimmer of hope through her tear-stained eyes.

Yes-- Kristin was truly a gift. When I went through ridiculous troubles with my high-school boyfriend, Kristin was there. She still sleeps with a stuffed dog she named "Puppy" that me and the high school ex gave to her when she was nary 1 year old. Kristin was the LOVE OF MY LIFE. The only time Kristin ever hurt my feelings was for about a year, she couldn't pronounce my full name. Understandably-- 3 syllables is a *LOT* for an 18 month old. But she called me "Anna."

Please understand.. at the time, I had had my world destroyed by someone I looked up to who shared the same moniker. Ridiculously so, even. I was a very troubled teenager, and looked for acceptance anywhere-- and when this particular person didn't offer it (or rather--stopped offering it), and instead-- pushed me away-- it absolutely *crushed* me. She wrote me a 4 page letter (FRONT AND BACK, mind you--) that I ridiculously *kept* for nearly 4 freakin years. Pathetic, I know. But I held onto that letter for some very personal reasons-- while I hated what she wrote-- the fact is-- she was *dead on.* And while it hurt-- I couldn't let it go. I just *had* to hold onto this piece of my history that had just shattered me to my very core. I would later find it while the hubby and I were packing up to move into our own place. I remember pulling it out of my "box-o-stuff".. the pages worn and creased, and I had memorized the letter, the handwriting-- even the semi-colons and commas. Literally. I read it aloud-- to which the hubby (boyfriend/fiance/and proud father-to-be at the time) snatched it from my hands and threw it into a candle that was nearby. I fought to salvage it, and he held me back as I cried and it burned-- I have no idea why I was so upset at the loss of this letter. He told me that I was *not* that person-- and that I had to let it go. He was right. Time heals all wounds, and I now hold no ill-will at all towards that person (CLOSURE RULES-- by the way)-- but at the time-- for the love of my life *Kristin* to call me by that name was just like daggers to my heart.

But of course-- I digress. Having Kristin around was just practice for when I would become a mother to my own child. Amber and I rented a house together for nearly 2 years, so Kristin was *literally* my life.. she was there every morning when I woke up-- and there every night when I went to bed. She has crawled into bed with me after a nightmare more times than I could possibly count. She prepared me for the greatest thing that has happened to me in 25 years of life.

My son. Hokey as it sounds-- my life started the day the 2nd line appeared on the EPT stick (much like it did to my best friend, Amber).. it focused me. It made me realize that *everything* I had been through in life would prepare me for this. I worried endlessly, would I be a good mother? Would I be able to love him or her the way he deserved to be loved? Would my boyfriend stick around? Keep in mind-- hubby and I got pregnant either the 1st or 2nd time we were *together*.. (so much for safe sex) So you can imagine my fear as I stood on his doorstep, trembling with the pregnancy test in my hand, already positive. "Hey-- I know we just met about a month ago-- and you seem like a perfectly nice guy and I really dig you-- I was wondering if you would like to raise a child with me." Yeah, right!! He calmly took me in his arms and said, "We're going to have a baby. And everything else will just fall into place." But still the worry continued. I had suffered severe physical, mental and emotional abuse as a child/teenager and was worried I would not know how to take care of a baby without reiterating my own mother's "style of parenting."

Then came the problems with the pregnancy. Getting dropped by my OB at 5 1/2 months because they were effing idiots who could not *read* a damn insurance card (FUCK you, Dr. D). The terrifying spotting the last day I worked. The carpal tunnel syndrome due to pregnancy (yup--it happens) that kept me in so much pain and insomnia that I beat my wrists against the wall until they bled.. the PIH that forced me into MANDATORY bed rest and 12 "emergency" trips to the hospital in the last 6 weeks. But lo and behold-- here he came. And the horror when he was born-- 15 hours of labor and 2 1/2 hours of hard pushing, to find that he was wedged under my pelvic bone, his heartbeat was rapidly dropping and I was rushed for an emergency c-section. The fear that gripped me when I saw him out of the corner of my eye-- BLUE. NOT CRYING. I looked at the hubby and said, "why isn't he crying?" Hubby trying to mask his own fear. The relief that came nearly 5 minutes later when he *did* cry. He was magnificent. Strong and independent-- you know how they say babies are sleepers when they are born? Not my boy-- he stayed awake for nearly 7 hours after he was born-- just looking at us as if to say, "Yup-- I had you going, didn't I??" There are no words to describe looking at your child for the first time, none.

The tears that rolled down my best friend and I's faces as we saw Kristin meet her "cousin Isaac" for the first time, after we had *lied* to the hospital and said she was my daughter (no kids in the maternity ward under 7 unless they are blood relatives-- it was a *good lie*). The first time she held him *all by herself* (propped up by MOUNTAINS of pillows and me, Amber, her boyfriend and my hubby *all hands 2 inches away* the whole time) The first time Kristin told Isaac she loved him, the first time Isaac told Kristin that he loved her. My two kids-- joined forever.

That is why this story in Russia touches me so. I cannot imagine the loss of my child. Just cannot fathom it. How are we supposed to feel safe sending our kids to school when things like this happen? I know that this is a completely random act of terrorism-- but it doesn't sting any less. It is devastating to see this. So to all those mothers and fathers, who are going to bed without their children this evening.. my tears and thoughts are with you all.

There are no words to describe the extraordinary pain that you all must be going through right now-- and while it may mean nothing to you now-- please know that we are crying with you. That even though there is no possible way we could-- we feel your pain. If I could shoulder even a minute amount of the grief you must be experiencing-- please know I would gladly bear it.

I'm not by any means, a religious person-- but the following is most appropriate. I had originally planned to write a poem-- but find myself at a loss artistically (a first for me-- I have *volumes* of poetry) I offer up the words of Eric Clapton.

Would you know my name if I saw you in Heaven?
Would you feel the same if I saw you in Heaven?
I must be strong and carry on,
'Cause I know I don't belong here in Heaven ......

Would you hold my hand if I saw you in Heaven?
Would you help me stand if I saw you in Heaven?
I'll find my way, through night and day,
'Cause I know I just can't stay here in Heaven .....

Time can bring you down, time can bend your knees.
Time can break your heart, have you begging .... please ...
Beyond the door, there's peace I'm sure.
And I know there'll be no more tears in Heaven .......

Would you know my name if I saw you in Heaven?
Would you feel the same if I saw you in Heaven?
I must be strong and carry on,'Cause I know I don't belong here in Heaven .......

Say WHAT?!?!?

False diagnosis of HIV discovered after eight years

Yes-- you read that right. A man named Jim Malone was tested for the AIDS virus in 1996. His first test came back positive. After he received the results-- he decided to seek treatment at a local VA Hospital. When he first went to the VA Hospital, he told them that he had tested positive for the HIV virus, and the VA promptly ran their own test. (This is standard protocol.) Shortly thereafter-- the VA's results on Malone's AIDS test came back-- Mr. Malone, was NOT infected with HIV.

Unfortunately-- nobody at the VA Hospital *told* Mr. Malone that.

This is so sickening, it makes me want to head to the bathroom and well-- you get the idea. I have lost friends to the AIDS virus, and let me tell you-- it is *NOT* the disease that kills them. The disease breaks their spirit, makes them believe there is no hope, gives them NO reason to live on. And while I would like to sit here and say that I treated my friends no differently regardless of their AIDS status, I cannot.

I *did* judge them.. just a little bit. Not in a bad way-- but just in a "I'm-a-little-scared-and-while-I-know-my-feelings-are-valid-I-still-feel-like-a-heel-for-feeling-this-way" kind of way.

As I am sure that people who know Mr. Malone did as well. That does not make them bad people. It makes them human. These kinds of actions are *forgivable*.. people are usually trying to deal with this the best way they can.

What the VA Hospital did is in NO way forgivable. They should be ashamed. I'm sure they are.. but the doctor's mealy-mouthed apology to Mr. Malone doesn't mean *JACK* right now! That man spent 8 years believing that he had an illness that was going to kill him. And worse off-- he had an illness that he *knew* there was no cure for. There are no words for this kind of atrocity.

To basically "sentence a man to death".. and then 8 years later, mumble a "Hey-- that must have slipped through the cracks," is completely ludicrous!! I mean-- jeez-- when a prisoner is wrongfully sentenced to prison, or death row-- at least when they get their "apology" from the State of wherever, there is a nice little check that they receive. Obviously-- a lot of these people go on to sue the prosecutors for further compensatory damages-- and for some of them-- I completely agree. And others-- I think it gets a little ridiculous.

I have no place to speak about stuff like that-- because I've never known anyone in prison who was wrongfully accused and served massive amounts of time for said mistake. But I digress.

I do not usually agree with lawsuits levied at major corporations. I think that a lot of people in this country have gotten really "lawsuit happy" and are just looking for *any* way to make a quick buck. Here's a tip to the people who are just looking for the "easy way out".. if you spent 1/2 as much time educating yourself as you did *making up* said lawsuit-- you wouldn't need a big fat settlement.. you'd be getting a BIG FAT PAYCHECK every two weeks.

But in the case of Mr. Malone-- I wholeheartedly believe that this man should take the VA for every penny they are worth. These people ruined his life.

Think about how differently you would live your life, if in fact, you were told that you basically had nothing to live for? That you had a disease that would ravage your body and tear you apart piece by piece. What if you watched close friends and loved ones (as Mr. Malone did) die of the very disease you *believed* was killing you.

To quote "Reality Bites", a lovely little '90s flick.. "Every time I sneeze, it's like I'm one sneeze away from the hospice."

That is exactly how you would feel. You would not plan for your future, you would not set money aside for vacations, NOTHING. All the little things that make us human and make life worth living would just be HUGE, FLASHING "You're-gonna-die" signs.

Mr. Malone, I feel for you and I hope that you are able to find some kind of comfort in the fact that you are not, in fact, dying. I understand how confusing this must be for you. On one hand-- you must be overjoyed that you are going to live out your life and *not* die an AIDS-related death, but at the same time-- I imagine you are grappling for *what* to do now. You have been given life again-- after having it savagely ripped away from you for 8 years. You certainly must be wondering where you will go now, what the next step will be.

Allow me to give you a gentle push in the right direction.

"Your honor, in the case of Mr. Jim Malone vs. The Veterans Administration.. I now call Jim Malone to the stand."

Go get 'em, Jim! Go get 'em!