Saturday, June 21, 2008

I can't sleep Take Two

Seeing as it is three in the morning and I can't sleep I figured now is as good of time as any to tell about nightmare number two. This one isn't nearly as reoccurring or dramatic, but for some reason pops up from time to time, and makes me lose hours of sleep.

On my very first day out of training with the Sheriff's Office I was sent to the office to catch up on several reports I had acquired through out the day. There was no reason for me to be at the office seeing as we had a small sub station in my beat, and to this day I don't know why I was told to go to the office. My point being, once I got to the office I sat down and began my paperwork. I hadn't been doing it for five minutes when I heard a call for a traffic crash a quarter mile up the road. The beat officer was tied up with a case, so I said I would respond. Little did I know that this wreck would change me forever.

As I arrived on scene I noticed a small black Honda Civic flipped upside down in the middle of the highway. I exited my vehicle, and everyone was yelling at me to go to the ditch area. As I was making my way over there, I noticed the bumper of the car was stuck in a tree at least thirty to forty feet in the air. The feeling that entered my gut before I reached the ditch is unforgettable. As I approached the ditch I noticed a young girl lying there lifeless. I went to check her vitals, and knew immediately there was nothing I could do to help her. The girl was ejected from her vehicle and upon impact snapped her neck. The thing I remember the most was, she didn't have a scratch on her. She looked as if she was asleep. Shortly after EMS arrived, and initiated CPR, even though they knew in their minds she was gone. You see, they sort of had a rule that if the person is under 18 you still try everything, even if you know it won't help. This girl was seventeen. The story I received from other drivers was she was driving like a mad person, and cut off a car. Trying to avoid impact she over corrected and steered into the ditch. Here I am, just turned twenty years old seeing my first of many dead bodies. I saw many more in the next three years, but none ever effected me the way this one has. I still to this day wake up sweating after seeing her lifeless body in my dreams. I see certain people that remind me of her and I know that I won't being having a good nights sleep that night. The worst part was that being a cop is all about being in control. You have control over everything the moment you step foot on a scene. The problem was that there is no control when you stare down at a lifeless 17 year old. Your helpless. You want so desperately to fix the problem, because that is what you do, but you can't. The only thing you can do is stand there and be useless. That may be one of the hardest things you ever have to do as a cop. Being able to accept the fact that you can't fix everything no matter how much you believe you can.

Nothing prepares you for the shock your body goes into upon seeing your first victim. Nothing prepares you for the drives over to the parents or loved ones house to tell them there reason for living just died in a wreck or decided to kill themselves. Nothing can prepare you for the look a five year old boy gives you when you discover his dad has been beating him and putting cigarettes out on his feet. The look of why are you doing this to my daddy. A child doesn't understand why the big bad police are taking there daddy away. You so desperately want to explain to the kid that his daddy is the bad man, but a child's love won't let him understand that. You want to grab the piece of crap father and choke the life out of him, but "He has rights too." You want to understand why the wife and mother of two decided her life wasn't important enough to keep going on. You want to understand so much more, but sometimes there just aren't any answers. You just have to keep on going on thinking that in some way everything you are doing is for a good reason, and hope that someday it will make sense. Hope that someday you will understand why you held someones head in your hands while they asked you to please help them, but you knew they were already dead because you could feel their skull in a hundred pieces. You just hope, because sometimes that is all there is.

I know I seem to jump from one subject to another rather drastically, but that's because when I feel something I have to write it right then. So for now work with me, and I'll work on staying on topic in future blogs. Once again I have posted a book rather than a short story, so I am starting to think I am incapable of shortening these things. Oh well, get used to it I guess or move on, because it does not appear that I am going to get any better at shortening these things any time soon. Thanks for appeasing me once again and good night.


Saturday, June 14, 2008

He's eating what?

For the past couple of weeks I have been working a lot of mid shifts and night shifts. Mids consist of 10am to 9 pm and nights consist of 3 pm to 1 am. Due to this schedule I either wake up just in time to spend a little time with the family and get ready for work, or am so tired in the mornings that I feel like a barely contribute around the house. It won't be like this much longer since I am almost done with training, but for now I am doing what I have to do.

Well, that all being said granola has been making incredible strides in Jay Bob's eating department. Those of you that read her blog already know this but I am so excited about it I had to write something. J man is now five years old. In these five years I have known him to eat GFCFSFNF pancakes, stripey chips(AKA Ruffles) sweet potato french fries, and that's about it. It's not because he is a picky eater, but because of his strict diet and sensory issues. We take for granted the fact that when we eat something as simple as a banana that it doesn't bother us and we just chew it up and swallow. Now imagine someone especially a five year old putting the same thing in their mouth and having his body screaming at him get this thing out of me. I truly believe he wants to like these foods, and believe he would, but his mind and body refuse to let him enjoy them. Imagine the food you absolutely despise. Something that in your mind makes you gag when you even think about it. Now imagine that no matter what food it is your putting in your mouth makes your body think it is the despised food. Just mentioning trying new food of any kind sends J Bob into a panic attack. His body freaks out because it knows what is coming. The texture of the food and the way it feels in his mouth literally sends him over the edge.

Sorry sort of got off track. The point of this is granola has made amazing strides in the last two weeks. J Bob is now not only licking new foods, he is putting it on his tongue, closing his mouth around it, and even biting down on it. He's even eating carrot sticks, which I still don't do. (Back off granola, I won't do it. Step away from the OA with the carrot stick) Yes his body still reacts in the same way, but he is such a pleaser, that he is willing to do it because he knows how much it makes his mommy and daddy happy. So even if his body wants to shut down he does it just to see us do the happy dance. Who knows maybe he just wants to see us make a fool of ourselves, but whatever the reason, he's trying new things and this is huge. All I know is granola deserves hugeeeee props(for lack of a better word) and I am glad that I chose her to be the mother of my children. I can't imagine a better mother for my children.

One more quick bragging moment on granola is that she has also recently taken over the B-12 injections that must be administered every three days. Due to my being gone a lot of nights now she has stepped up to the plate and started injecting J man with his much needed shots. I'm more than proud of her. When I give him the injections, my heart stops. I hate it. I hate having to put him through this and it makes my heart stop. Knowing that she loves him so much to do this for him makes me even prouder to call her my wife. As she once said in one of my posting's, back of dude's this ones all mine. Love you g-chic, and see you in the morning.

Friday, June 13, 2008

When are we going to wake up

Tonight at work I had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting yet again another one of Arkansas' finest. Near the end of the night we had a group of five African American ladies walk in to enjoy a nice meal and ladies night out. Being the end of the night we had already cut most of the servers and had a limited seating area available. I made the decision to seat the ladies in front of two white guys, and as I was pulling tables together to seat the ladies one of the men opened his uneducated, overweight mouth and say, "Are you really gonna seat them there?" Hoping he just didn't want to be bothered by the noise, even though I really knew what he meant, I sat the ladies in my predetermined tables. Midway through the meal the man got up and waddled over to the front of the store. I say waddled because the man was so incredibly large that he couldn't walk. While in the front he decided to stop one of the servers and say, "This was a nice meal until you guys decided to seat all of those Kunta Kente mother f'ers in front of me." The server then informed me of his comments and my first thought was to grab a fork lift and haul him out the front door. Luckily the man was smart enough, or cowardly enough not to say anything to the ladies themselves. I just don't get how in 2008 we are still so divided. When is America going to wake up and realize that we are all in this together. What makes this man so superior that he can degrade people to this degree? The thing I find the most discomforting about all of this is he felt comfortable enough to walk up to a perfect stranger and just blurt out those things. He's lucky I wasn't the person standing up there, because there is no doubt in my mind that I would have said some things I probably shouldn't have. These women could have commented on his whale like physique, but they chose to do the proper thing and just enjoy there meal. I'm so sick and tired of the redneck trash that this area produces that it makes me want to move away. I won't though. I won't let these uneducated, uncouth, disrespectful morons move me away from my home. The only thing I can do now is pray that God opens their eyes, and lets them see the error of their ways.

I did however try and make sure I gave the ladies the best ladies night out I could, while letting the guys see how much I appreciated the ladies company. I'm kind of spiteful like that. Anyways enough of my ranting for now, I just wanted to get that off of my chest. I'll leave you with one of my favorite movie lines that granola reminded me off today.

Does this suit make me look fat?
No, your face does.

Anyone know what movie this is from. If so I'll give you a million dollars.........or a pat on the back which ever one I have available at the time.

Blog you later,


Tuesday, June 10, 2008

This one's for me!

I know I just wrote one novel so if your not up for reading another than click on the x in the top right corner of your screen.

I was going to wait to post about the cop stuff, but in fears of losing sleep tonight I am going to post some stories now. These stories are not intended to wow anybody, or for any sympathy, no selfishly this post is for me. Any time I talk about cop stories I tend to lose sleep over a few things.

Lying in bed with my family I can be having the most amazing sleep ever when suddenly I will be overcome with memories that cause me to shoot up in the air. My bed will be soaked in sweat, my body drenched from the nightmares I have and fear will always have. There are two instances that occurred when I was a cop that I know I will never forget. The one that seems to be more pressing for some reason is the Gulf of Mexico instance. I don't know if I've ever shared my true thoughts of what happened in the Gulf that day, but today I am putting it out there for all of you to read. My step mother once gave me some advice I will never forget and that was to put my feelings on paper. Even if I ripped it up when I was done, it was better to get it out there than to keep it bottled up. She knew me better than I ever gave her credit for. Due to my mother having a medical issue I have had some issues burning inside of me all my life, and she knew it and knew I needed to get it out one way or another. Thank you for those words of wisdom and it is you who I give credit to for sharing these thoughts today in hopes of receiving a few more peaceful nights of sleep. I love you nana.

Anyways back to the Gulf instance. My last year of being a cop in Florida I was assigned to the beach patrol. I would run up and down the beach on an atv keeping the peace and watching for distressed swimmers. One day there was a bad storm coming and the water was honest to God the worst I had seen it in a long time. As I neared the end of my beach run I noticed a man approximately 800 feet offshore signaling for help. No rescue personal were even close to that location, and I made the decision to go after the man. After entering the water I knew that I was in for a fight. I have never had trouble swimming away from shore, but today was different. The rip tide was not your normal rip tide. It was like a washing machine going in a circle. You would swim 500 feet only to be ripped back to the middle in a matter of seconds. I finally reached the man and he was already wiped out. This man was a large guy, probably 250+ pounds and now dead weight. I begin dragging the man back to shore, and immediately begin to feel exhausted myself. After several minuted in the water, water rescue teams from the fire department, ems team and surfers have all entered the water to try and help. Boats were coming from the coast guard station, and helicopters were being called in from the air force base to try and get us. When I told you the water was rough I wasn't joking. The boats could not get near us for fear of capsizing. There were now seven of us in the water and we were making no ground what so ever. The sea foam was so thick on this day that any time you took a breath you began to inhale it which in turn made you vomit. The worst part was whenever we would get to where our feet would touch the ground the rip tide ripped us back out 500 feet. The man I originally went after began to apologize to me and my family for putting me in this mess. I had a few choice words for him and told him were all going home today. After about one hour in the water one of the firemen let go of the surfboard we were all so desperately clinging to and said, "I'm done guys, I'm sorry I just can't go anymore." I looked over at him and said like hell your going and with the help of the others put him on top of the board. At this point in time my body is telling me it is done. I had aches and pains I didn't know existed and was fighting for every breath of air.

Here's the part I'm not sure I've shared. At this moment I closed my eyes and started praying to God. I apologized in my mind to my wife and kids, and asked God to please take care of them. I asked that they would understand why I chose to go in the water that day, and to please never be upset with me for making that decision. I asked him to please make sure my entire family understood this as well, and I said I'm sorry. I prayed that he would accept me into his kingdom even though I know I have done things that have surely disappointed him. At this point in time a gave up. My legs stopped kicking and my body went lifeless. In my mind I was gone. I left a wife, two beautiful children, and a loving family. I was convinced that when I left the house that morning, I had seen my family for the last time. God had other plans for me. Seconds later I felt another wave of energy. I opened my eyes, looked at everybody and said let's get the hell out of here. My legs kicked harder than they had the entire time, and shortly after a rope drifted into us. Someone had thrown a rope in about one mile down shore and it drifted into us. We grabbed that rope for dear life and pulled everyone to safety. After dragging the man and two firemen to shore I went to be by myself. I didn't want the congratulations from the Sheriff, news crews, peers, or anyone else, honestly I was pissed. I don't know why but I was. EMS wanted to check me out and I told them if they touch me with anything I would break in two. (I can have a small temper) Honestly I think I just wanted to take time to thank God for delivering me from what I was certain my end. I got on my ATV drove to the station, and was told to go home to re coop. I thought about it for a minute when suddenly another call came in for two missing swimmers on the beach. Against all of my supervisor's request I hopped on my ATV and went on to the next call. The energy was still there. God gave me strength I've never felt before. I should have been in the hospital with the other three from exhaustion, but I was out there looking for more people to help. Please don't take this as a wow look at me story, that's not what it is about, but more as a look what God can do for you story. He's amazing, ask him for help and he'll deliver. Don't go through life wondering whether to believe, because I can assure you He is real.

I'll save the second nightmare for another blog. I have got to learn how to shorten these things.
That's all for now, and thanks for reading.

The love of a Father

I recently read a comment on my first blog that literally brought tears to my eyes. Before any thoughts come into your heads, there a very, very few things in life that have made me cry and most of them have been because of my father. I know this sounds bad, but wait it gets better. My father was never the type that beat me, verbally abused me, or made me feel ashamed of myself. He is the reason I feel that I have such a tight connection with the family I have created today. Of the few times I have cried in my life they have been because I felt like I personally let him down. No he never gave me a reason to feel this way, but I had such a deep passion to make him happy and feel like he had created a wonderful person that I would rather die than feel like he was disappointed. Later in my life I have come to realize that all my father ever wanted was for me to be happy and try my best. This is why whenever I looked up in the stands at a wrestling match, football game, and yes even cross country meet, (it must be noted that I always finished at the back of the pack in these, asthma has a way of doing that to you) he was always there. He didn't care whether I won or lost, he was just happy to see me trying my best and doing something I love. I remember the feeling in my stomach the day I told him I no longer wished to play football. I had coaches promising me the world, scholarships, and state championship rings, but my heart was no longer in the game sadly due to an overbearing coach. I cried when I told him of my decision to quit, because I felt like I was in some way disappointing him. I'll never forget the way my father reacted when I told him. I guess in my mind I was expecting him to try and talk me out of it, or have him tell me to just try it a little longer, but instead he reached over to me, gave me the type of hug only a father can give and said, if that is what I wanted, then he understands and he is proud of me for making this decision. (man that went much better than the fifty ways I imagined it going in my head)

There were times growing up living with my mother that I would do something that would warrant a call to my father. I remember fighting these calls to the point of unplugging the phone. It wasn't the spanking's I feared nearly as much as my father looking in my eyes and telling me he was disappointed in my decision. At this point I wanted my father to be the type that beat me. ( it should also be noted that growing up he did have one of those father's and he vowed at that time never to be that type of man) I would rather have been beaten at these times than to have him look at me that way. I only hope one day that I to can raise my son and daughter to have these same feelings. I attribute a lot of the right decisions I have made in my life to the fear of getting "The Look."

All my life I remember my dad being the man that I wanted to grow up to be. Every year in school they always ask you who your hero was, and my response was always my father. I admired a man that risked his life for twenty-five plus years to protect and serve at a fraction of the pay that he deserved. Watching him leave on Christmas morning because someone murdered someone the night before, or watching him leave in the middle of the night dressed in all black in order to conduct a stake out. There is not another profession I could think of that would have made me more proud of my father. I guess that is why I chose to follow in his footsteps. Although I no longer choose to be in the law enforcement career field, I still have nightmares that wake me up covered in sweat scared to go back to sleep. Don't get me wrong I loved being a cop, but at this time in my life it was not in my best interest to continue down that road. More to come on the cop stuff in future blogs.

I could go on forever, literally forever telling you of all of the wonderful things this man has done for me, but I will spare all of you the novel. Maybe I'll write a book someday, and then you can read that. (don't hold your breath) For now I will just say thank you. Thank you for always being there for me, thank you for guiding me and being the perfect example of what a father should be, and thank you for the love and support you have shown me for the past twenty-six years.


Saturday, June 7, 2008

O.K. you Win

For the past couple of weeks my wife Granola Chic has been asking me (asking is really code for telling me) that I need to start a blog. Originally my first response was, yeah right that's not really my thing. After much consideration, (once again code for repeated asking from Granola) I have decided it may not be such a bad idea. It may take a while for me to really understand the world of blogging, but I'm sure I will soon be hooked. Everything in the past that Granola has suggested I do and I blew off usually ends up being something I really enjoy. (Shh... don't tell her I said that)

Seriously though, my wife is my rock, my guiding light, and my hero. I have never met someone who is so concerned about the well being of others no matter what harm they may be doing to themselves. She will literally drive herself to her mental and physical capacity to make sure our kids are receiving the best care that they can, and that I am receiving the best wife a man could ask for. She researches every single day to ensure that our son is receiving everything possible in hopes of curing him. When she plans meals for our family it isn't the typical what can I throw together for the family, she ensures that it is only what is best for us and especially what is best for our son. There is no favoritism for our son, it's just that he has special needs and she will do whatever it takes to heal him even if it kills her. I will go into further detail about his special needs in future blogs, but for now just know he and his little sis are what life is all about. For those of you who think you don't know if you want kids, just know that you haven't really lived unless you embrace the joys children can bring into your lives. There are so many wonderful things I could say about my wife, but there is no way I could put into a blog the feelings I have for her.

Once I figure out how to link blogs and do all of the other cool things I know can be done I will link her blog up with this one. Trust me, it will be much more researched, entertaining, and fulfilling than mine will ever be. That's it for now, and from all of us from the Bush household, you stay classy Blogger World. (Anchorman reference for those of you who are wondering what that was about)