just a bit about Raspootin...

When I was a child – I thought as a child. I am now an Adult.

Biblical in thought? Yes of course it is. This is how I was raised. When I was a child we went to church 3 times a week. Does not sound like much to Americans raised with cars – but let me tell you – it was a lot. We would walk 2 miles to the tube station then take the Wembley – or now I think it would be called the Central line to Wembley Park. We then would hike across tenement buildings, about 10 high rises, to get to the church and take the same hike back –around trip of 4 miles.

Why does this mean anything? Good question. When my parents left me off to go to Tulane in the drinking, drug and sex capital of the South when I was 18, I had no idea. Their religious teachings or perhaps their lack of experience with life was a great hazard to me/ I truly believed because MY Parents and MY church said “when you fall in love and make love to a man it is because it is of God and because that Man loves you”

Ok – I do not even have to go into that misery. What a lie? What a naive dumb, dumb am I? My lack of knowledge certaintly led me to make mistakes that I look back on now and slap my head with wonder that I could have ever been such a true soul, believer in goodness.

I am now older, wiser and very hardened by the emotional knocks in my life. I understand that people have nooks and Cranny’s – but I have always had the Ultimate lessons given by God, Man or who ever is in charge of what can go or will be wrong.


I remember going to the hospital when by brother in law killed himself. My husband was in LA – visiting his family. They are JW’s and do not believe in getting blood. By the time I go to the emergencey room – it was far past the time to repsepect the religious beliefs of John, as they had been working on him with only the knowledge of his not informed girlfeind for 4 hours. When I asked the doctor what was going to happen after entering the emergency room and seeing them massage his heart ( yes inside his chest which was open) I called my ex husband’s father and asked what I should do. I was instructed by him to make a call. My brother in law had committed suicide and was brain dead. The doctors indicated that they could probably get him to a state of brain dead “VEGGY” – So I made the call I thought appropriate – “let him go”.

John’s girlfriend and her friend Heather screamed at me in the Chapel saying that John’s death was my fault. How could I have told the emergency room staff and doctors to stop? They accused me of his death because 6 weeks earlier I delivered to the girl friend a large box full of medication from John’s parents. John was bi-polar and had to take his meds – His girlfriend being even dumber than me thought she should not give the medication to him. She did not believe that he was psychotic – thought she new best,thought his Jehovah Witness Family was making it all up.

I guess she finally gave them to John as he overdosed on the meds that I gave his girl friend. I will never forgive myself for not giving them to him myself.

So you could ask, what has me in the mood to discuss things like this? Well, I am currently feeling a great deal like I did the night John died, and feel like maybe this time I can get some help with decisions that should not be mine to make, but fall on me none the less.

My mother was diagnosed with Parkinson’s about 4 years ago. I have forgiven her for not telling me about sex and drugs as on retrospect I probably would have found that extremely embarrassing at 18. She has also become a huge leftist liberal – friend in need an alley in deed. She had her first Seizure in Macys – she passed out down for the count. I shouted out for 911. She would have nothing to do with 911, making a speedy recovery. I had to argue with her about driving the car home and of course promise that I would not say anything about the incident to my Father, brother or Sister

I spent the “Katrina” in New Orleans which I guess as a retrospective was traumatic. I spent “Rita” stuck in traffic with my Mother and Father – 24 hours to Dallas from Houston which I need no retrospective to say was horrific.

I am going to jump to the point. The only thing that has kept my mother out of assisted living or really to be more honest is a nursing home is my Fathers’ good health. Up to 3 years ago he had a plane and a hanger in north Houston – and this was his hobby and thing to do. He has always been in good health.

I went to visit over July 4th weekend. My mother is maintaining but not able to walk. She also has other problems that well – in case she ever reads this I will not disclose.

On Sunday I was eating lunch with Mom and Dad. Dad was sitting directly across from me with my mother to the side. We were eating very dry BBQ Sandwiches. All of a sudden I see my Dad turn white then a bit red. I asked him – what’s up are you okay” He grunted out “NO”. He clutched at the table then fell to the floor.

I immediately called 911 and then went over to him. My mother had inadvertently fallen on him in her anxious worry. I worked around her – and my Dad’s pulse and color returned. He sat up. I lifted my mother back up. He yelled me to saying cancel 911. Why did you do that? I am fine.

Later that evening I confronted him and my mother. I wanted my dad to go to the emergency room. As selfish as it may sound I did not want another John on my conscience.
I also thought that the episode was more than my Dad explained: Dyvictalitist of the throat caused by dry food. Hell, I thought he had a stroke or heart attack! Needless to say, he made me pinky swear that I would not tell my brother or sister what happened. I hate to be in the position, but did not want to upset him further.

Today I called my Dad – (I have everyday) but today he answered not my mom. He said he felt funny and achy and that he knew something was wrong. I told him to go to the emergencey room. “On no I will get with the doctor tomorrow”

I immediately called my Brother and his wife who live in Houston and left a message. I had broken the pinky swear the evening before – telling my brother what happened. I have promised myself that I will never allow what happened to John to happen to someone else I love because I am trying to keep confidence. My Brother never called me back. My parents have not called. I guess no news is good?

My sister just called and was intuitively asking about my parents. I know that she was not contacted by my brother, his wife or my parents. I lied out right to her – well just said I thought my parents were not feeling well. I now feel a huge sense of guilt and one of forbearance for the worst.