Up North

One of the things I remember most of my childhood is time spent going "up north" to visit my Grandma. My Dad is from Ogdensburg, NY and my Grandma had moved back to that area after my Grandpa passed away. We used to go visit her often and I have so many wonderful memories of those days. I revisited the area with my Dad recently and he provided me with stories of his childhood. I drove to the house that my Grandma lived in. I had not seen that house in decades, but it still looked the same as I remembered it. I can remember sitting watching my sister do cartwheels around the yard, Grandma playing the accordian for us, pretending to still be asleep in her bed on the mornings we were to leave so we could stay just a little longer.

My sister, cousins, and I used to walk down the road to this store where we would buy penny candy and individual pieces of Bazooka Joe Bubble Gum for 5 cents. The highlight was the comic strip that would be wrapped around the gum as the gum itself was almost always way too hard to chew.

We also used to go to this ball field. The 5 of us would join the other small handful of kids in the area to run around the bases (I don't recall ever playing an actual game) and dare each other to go in the run down creepy house next to Grandma's.

In this spot on Black Lake we would sit for hours and catch fish to take back to have at Grandma's. I can remember sitting in the rear facing back seat of the station wagon with my feet on the Styrofoam cooler hoping the fish would not flop out at my feet. I can remember the smell of the fish burning on the fire when they were left untended to too long.

This is the river that separates the US from Canada in Ogdensburg. My Dad has told me so many tales of his and my uncles antics going back and forth over that bridge in their younger days. The saddest though, is that it is at this spot that my Dad's aunt and boyfriend let their car go over the edge to lead people to believe they had drowned. They were young and ran away to go against the family to be married. It was years later when it was discovered that they were alive and living in a different state.

It was nice to spend the weekend with my Dad hearing how Grandma earned "an Abe and a George" while he would help my Grandpa with the milk runs. I laughed so hard my sides hurt at the never ending tales of his and my uncle's ways of passing time and the stunts they would pull. I understood his somberness as he pointed out the exact spot where his Grandma collapsed and passed away along side the road while walking home one night from a friend's house. I saw the sparkle in his eye when we went into the same restaurant for dinner that he used to go to with my Grandma before going to see a movie many years ago. Sometimes parents will tell the same stories many times; I cherish the stories every time. I am glad that my Dad took the time to tell me, show me, and relive with me.

Suitcases

A few years ago I attended a conference at the Sagamore near Albany for work. While there I seen a presentation titled "Suitcases: The lives they Left Behind". It was a piece that some researchers had put together. They had gone to the Willard Psychiatric Hospital in hopes of finding some artifacts to safeguard before the hospital grounds were renovated, demolished, or completely closed to the public. What they stumbled upon was a find much greater than they had hoped to.

Using two former employees as guides, they happened upon an old attic door. When the door was pried open, they discovered amongst the debris a collection of suitcases. Suitcases that had been placed there many years earlier when their owners had been placed in the hospital. I sat in the overcrowded conference room with my fellow employees and others from many different social services agencies from across the state in awe of the presentation. It was a presentation that touched everyone in the room so deeply that we all left the room overcome with emotions. By using the contents of the suitcases and the patients records the research team worked many years piecing together the lives of the suitcase owners. Many of the suitcases held the person's most prized possessions... photos, clothing, mementos, jewelry, personal care items. All things that once they arrived at Willard they never seen again.

A vast majority of the people who were placed in Willard and labeled as "insane" were not. Refusing to leave a bar when asked to, getting upset over a restaurant messing up their food order, questioning if God truly existed when a spouse and child suddenly lost their lives, crocheting a pair of baby booties while being pregnant then keeping that pair close to her after the baby died during childbirth... all reasons why some were placed in Willard. Questioning why they were there and when they could leave... reasons they were kept there.

Willard was a self maintained facility. There was no reason to leave the property. They had their own power plant, post office, entertainment hall, their own bakery, their own farms (vegetable, fruits, as well as pigs, poultry, and cattle), fire department, work shops, morgue, burial grounds. It also had numerous residential halls as well as on campus housing for some staff and administration. It was the responsibility of the patients there to maintain the facility. They worked every manual labored position. One patient hand dug thousands of graves in his time at Willard. He was still responsible to dig final resting places when he died in his sleep at the age of 90. He was labeled as having paranoid schizophrenia by the same Dr who wrote in his case notes that "patient has good judgment, fully orientated, cooperative, logical, good memory and insight, no delusional trends and requires no medications at all. "

Growing up in the Finger Lakes area I knew of Willard. I knew it was a hospital for the mentally insane but I did not realize the conditions that the people there lived in. I left the presentation wanting to know more. When I came home and told my family of the presentation I learned of a new person who had been placed at Willard wrongly. My Grandfather. My Grandfather was an alcoholic. One night while drinking he was showing off with a gun and accidentally shot himself. He survived the mishap but the mishap had him placed in Willard. It took my Grandmother months to have him proven to be of sound mind and released. I never meant my Grandfather as he passed away before I was born. When I asked my parents if he ever said what Willard was like they just said he never wanted to discuss what he saw or experienced. They said they visited him there often and it was not a very pleasant place.

When the book that the researchers were writing was published, I bought the book. I cried as I read it. The stories of the people lives they were able to peice together are unbelievable. A few times I drove to Willard. Not having access inside the compound itself though. I would drive by and see the buildings and wonder what was held inside. This summer I had the opportunity to find out. It was an opportunity that I did not hesitate to take and what I seen inside was beyond my imagination.

As a fundraiser Willard was opened to the public for one day. My Mother and I went together. They only had certain sections of the facility available to tour. Part of the facility is now a boot camp for drug addicted state prisoners. That piece was not available for us to tour. Some residential buildings had been boarded up and condemned as they were unsafe. Those too were not open to tour.

The tours were supposed to be guided tours. Each building you went into also had former staff members who worked at Willard inside them to offer additional insight and information on that particular building. The weather was rainy and dreary so our tour guide quickly left us to be on our own. My Mom and I walked building to building, soaking it all in so to speak.

We went to a building that had many functions before becoming a residential facility when the hospital got cited for being overcrowded. That building was the eeriest building. It had a feel to it to just ran chills down your spine. A paranormal studies group had been there a few years ago and the notes they had left behind of the experiences that occurred while they were there still hung on a bulletin board on the wall. Notes scribbled of " voices heard down hall, sounds of a bell repeatedly sounding, screams heard on back wing, lights won't stay on." Followed by a note that said " Dude, I can not wait to get out of this place in the morning.." written from one paranormal studier to the other.

The tour guide took us to the basement of that building. The basement was filled with cement tunnels. All going in different directions. At the end of one tunnel was a room that had a beautiful mantle and elegant flooring. That was the only room that had flooring. The rest were of cement. The lights consisted of an exposed light bulb hanging every so often. While we were told when we entered that building that no person was ever held there against their will, at the end of one tunnel was a cell. It had a barred gate that went from top to bottom with a lock on the door. It resembled that of which one would see in a jail. At the bottom of it was a slot that a tray would fit through. Nobody held against their will? Yeah, OK.


We drifted away from the tour guide when we were on the 3rd floor of the same building. Last I heard the tour guide saying was that people were fortunate to have luxuries here that they may not have had access to had they not come to Willard. While wandering away, I saw a set of doors that were partially opened and labeled "Treatment Room". I walked inside and this is what I seen...

I don't know about you, but those are "luxuries" I could live without.


We went to the morgue where we seen were autopsies were performed and bodies held until the other patients made the casket and dug the grave.


We went into Hadley Hall where there was an auditorium where movies were played and dances held. Downstairs was a bowling alley. It was without any doubt the only building I seen that offered the patients there anything positive and uplifting.


We toured the building that housed medically fragile patients as well as the operating room. We did not however see what it was like in their day as it is now a remodeled building with many updates. We also were able to tour the old nurse training facility. Again, all remodeled now into a day care center.


We were told that they had underground tunnels that connected all buildings to a central building. We also were told that in all buildings patients were able to come and go in and out of. We were told that the patients enjoyed being at Willard and took pride in their work that they did so willingly in the many different labor shops and fields. The people providing the tour stated that when people arrived at Willard, they did not want to leave even when they were told they did not need to be there. This is something that is the direct opposite of what is pieced together in the book I read and the presentation I seen. Both of which were validated by patients records and information from other sources.


There were two buildings that haunted my mind the most there. First the one with the luxurious treatment rooms and cell portioned basement. Second was this building... Nestled in the midst of the other residential buildings.

When I asked what it was, I was at first dismissed. When I continued to pry, I was told nobody knew. I looked in the windows, in the midst of the debris I seen three things... a single cot, a small tray table, and an old wooden chair. There was no door on any side of this building. I returned to the tour guide, telling her what I seen through the windows and asking if it maybe was some sort of a isolation facility. She was quick to tell me that no such isolation ever occurred at Willard and that the building was used for storage. I am not sure what the building's purpose was but regardless it un-nerved me.

While the tour guides information was not the same as the information of the researchers, it was still a nice chance to get inside the facilty and draw my own conclusions and try to see the way things may have been. My only hope is that those buried in the overgrown and unkept cemetary with no markers (as Willard's employees pulled them all from the ground and tossed them over the banksides in thoughts of making it easier to mow) are now truly finding peace.

Living

I had fallen into a pattern of just going through the motions of the days of life. That has changed. Now I am in the pattern of going through the motions of living the days. It is amazing what one person can bring into your life.

06/11/2009 = One Year!

I remember reading once that Lance Armstrong said that getting cancer could be one of the best things that every happened to him. When I first read that, even after reading his reasoning, I did not comprehend why he would think that. Now I completely get what he meant. It is one year today that I am a cancer survivor! It has been one very monumental year for me. I have had my share of trials and tribulations but I have come out the victor. When I think of where my life was at last year and where my life is at now, my eyes instantly moisten. Cancer truly does change ones life.

I have learned what matters. It does not matter that dunkin donuts gave me a hot coffee when I asked fro an iced one. The fact that I am able to stand there on my own accord and receive the messed up order is what matters. I matter. Living matters. All the small stuff, does not matter.

I have learned what needs to come first. My job always came first. Not now. My health come first. My family comes first. My current job does not like that very much. Therefore I am looking for a new job. I refuse to upset my priorities again. Especially given the pain and suffering I went through to learn what they are.

Living life to the fullest. I have learned that today is a gift. Every day we are to wear out that gift. I do not live for tomorrow. I do not live thinking will there be a tomorrow either. I just live and enjoy living. I see each day as a blessing and I treasure things every day. I tell those I love that I love them.

Last year at this time I was highly emotional. I was scared of having surgery, unsure what was forthcoming, frustrated with the healing process. I was very scared of my incision opening... which I still check to make sure it hasn't after doing something strenuous! I was mad. Mad at the fact that my body turned on me. Mad that I had opportunities taken away from me before I could gain from them. While I seen everything then as losing so much, I know see that I have gained twice as much. I gained three things I did not have before: Strength, Courage, Confidence.

I chose to stare Cancer in the face and I WON. That is a huge victory. I found strength that I did not know existed within me. That was the biggest and scariest thing I have ever come up against. If I can beat cancer, I can beat any little obstacle that comes in my path. I dug deep and I found courage that I never knew I had. I had to do things that I did not want to do. Two hours after my surgery I had to walk the length of the hall. That took courage. I had to ask people for help and let them help me. That is something I did not want to have to do. It took courage to lower my guard and accept help. My confidence is a work in progress but I have more confidence now then I did have. I am learning to accept myself in my new body. My body is still mis-shaped from my surgery. My surgeon said that it had to do with taking out the intestines and pushing things around. Pretty much, where things are now are where things will stay. That leaves me with a bulge on my right side. I do not like that and I am somewhat conscious of it when I decide what to wear. I am working on not focusing so much on it. I am learning to manage the hot flashes. I am enjoying not having the cramps and the pains I was enduring. I am definitely enjoying not being the reason that Stayfree's stock on Wall St. was so rapidly climbing! LOL

When I look back at where I was, I can truly see how far I have come! Fran Drescher told me in an email that things take time and that the amount of time to fully recover and feel like yourself was different for everyone. It was odd as I read her book on her uterine cancer experience about 4 times last summer. Reading her experience in a lot of ways was like reading my own and I knew it took her close to a year. I was focusing on hitting that mark myself. She said not to focus on how far you may think you have to go still and not to think about what may be ahead, to just focus on the now. (Same thing my Dad told me last June by the way!) I stopped thinking about the time factor and just let things take their course. Truth be told, until I sat down to write this blog I had not realized it had been about 3 months now that I have truly been pain free and considering myself as fully recovered. Yes I still have to endure exams every 6 months for the next 5 years but as my oncologist told me a few weeks ago, 1 down.... 9 to go!

Long Time, No Post!

The past few months have been very busy ones for me! I have been enjoying time with my friends and my family. While I am sure more in depth blogs on specific things may follow someday soon; here is a little glimpse of what has been keeping me to busy to blog...

Enjoying watching the Elmira Jackals make it into the ECHL Playoffs this year!

Being blessed to be able to get my buds Theresa and Jo to join me!

Travel.. Went to Odgensburg, NY to hear tales of my Dad's childhood (a soon to be post for sure) and to Buffalo, NY just to try to have some quiet "me" time

A historical tour of Willard, an Asylum for the Insane which is definitely another soon to come post.

Weeding my weed-filled area by the side of my house and finding two very rough looking rose bushes which without really any help from me, blossomed into these bountiful beauties.

Winter in NY has three guarantees..


1. Coldness










2. Snow













3. Beautiful Scenes















Click on my Flicker Photos to see the rest of the winter pictures.
They are in the set labeled Feb 2009.