A.M. Homes - from her novel "May We Be Forgiven"
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Friday - Quote of the Day
"There is a world out there, so new, so random and dissociated that it puts us all in danger. We talk on line, we "friend" each other when we don't know who we are really talking to - we fuck strangers. We mistake almost anything for a relationship, a community of sorts, and yet, when we are with our families, in our communities, we are clueless, we short-circuited and immediately dive back into the digitized version-it is easier because we can be both our true selves and our fantasy selves at once, with each carrying equal weight"
A.M. Homes - from her novel "May We Be Forgiven"
A.M. Homes - from her novel "May We Be Forgiven"
(Late) Quote of the Day
"Was this the big one or was this the small tremor, the warning? Does it get better-does the sensation of being in a dream underwater go away?"
A.M. Homes - May We Be Forgiven
A.M. Homes - May We Be Forgiven
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
A Description in Words and Pictures of a Migraine
A migraine is like a living breathing thing. It causes chaos for all involved. It is like a tornado sucking everything into it.
It starts with a craving for sweets. Which I eat and it makes me sick to my stomach. It starts as a headache, but I know my aura and I know a regular headache from a migraine on the way. The lights feel like someone turned the sun on in my room. Every little noise is not only amplified but sounds worse than nails on a chalkboard. And it may just be a bird chirping. To me it sounds like a prehistoric monster screeching. My nose it stuffed up. I feel like I am going to vomit and that feeling does not go away with all the crackers and ginger ale in the world. All my food tastes funny. Even though I can usually only have crackers and ginger ale. Any smell is multiplied 100 times. A heating up some plain chicken to me smells like tons of rotten eggs that have been left out in the sun to bake. And I am freezing cold.
They migraines are always right-sided. It feels like something is pressing from the inside of my head, like there is something in there trying to get out. The pressure in my head is unbelievable. I often lay on my right side with my hand under the pillow putting counter pressure on my right temple, which feels nice. But laying on your left helps nausea. Plus I hate having to turn over to spit in the garbage. Like when you get ready to vomit but it is just a lot of saliva. So I often go back and forth, gently, between laying on my right side and laying on my left side.
I feel like I really might seriously die. I can take a lot of pain. I can even have, on a scale of 1-10 (I have grown to hate that scale over the years) an 8 migraine and still function to where anyone would not really notice how sick I really am.
Back to positioning. You will usually find me on my left side, garbage close by, in the fetal position with crackers in a tupperware container on my bed. And a bottle of water and my can of ginger ale. The pain is all I can think about. It is not the pain of something quick like a needle, or if you whack your leg really hard on the corner of something. If the migraines did not come so often, maybe they would be easier to deal with. But no, I remember as if it were yesterday my very first migraine at the age of 13. All I had was aspirin back then. Today I have medication for my nausea, and pain killers. Sometimes they work, sometimes they do not. That has always been a mystery to me.
I have had migraines that last an hour or two and one's that have lasted days. The worst one lasting five days and I was hospitalized and all they could do was give me an intravenous push painkiller every four hours. (Intravenous push means the medication goes in slowly, over a period of many seconds. It is not a quick shot say like a flu shot)
I have been to tons of doctors. In different states. I have had more MRI's than I can count. I could probably not only set one up and perform it, but read you the results as well!
You know what I want to know. My why? Why me? I would not wish this on my worst enemy. It runs in the family. I literally want to scream when someone is talking and laughing in the bright light and say they have a migraine. They have no idea.
I once saw some art done by patients in a neurology unit where the artist portrayed a migraine in a picture. It was beautiful. It was exactly, on canvas, a migraine. One inparticular was my favorite. But the other pieces were just as good at portraying a migraine and how it feels. And how it made them feel. But my favorite one I have etched in my memory. I wish I had it to show you.
I would like to try it. To represent my migraine as art. Accept it is hard to remember, to a degree, how bad it was when you start to feel better. I guess I would have to paint when I was sick. But how would that work? I cannot even lift my head.
I lay there and pray to God for the pain to stop. I take my medicine and wait. And wait. And wait. An hour goes by. It has not eased up. I cannot take it. I would cry but that only makes it worse. I am curled up in bed with the television on very low. I have a sleep mask on to shut out the light. And the volume really low on the television. I need it on though because the silence, when you are in pain, is deafening. At least the television fills in the thought train of "this hurts, this hurts, this hurts, I am going to throw up, this hurts, why won't it ease up, when did I take my medication, this hurts."
My husband comes in to check on me when he is home and I have a migraine. He rubs my head gently. He rubs my shoulders and back. Just the motion gets my mind off of how sick I am and how much pain I am in. But of course an arm gets tired after a while. But when that happens, I get an apology, which is silly and I tell him so, and then I get a "magic kiss" on my forehead that I now associate with Tony having a innate understanding of Reiki. As he puts his lips to my forehead, I can feel him breathing in the pain, to take on as his own, while at the same time filling me with good thoughts and good energy.
(pretty accurate depiction but my eyes are closed and I am on my side)
Another hour goes by. I wonder how long this migraine is going to last. I want to take my head off my body. Everything makes me mad. I do not want anything touching me, sometimes not even my husband for rubs. I wonder how long this is going to last and if one extra pain pills will help. Although it, again, sometimes does and sometimes does not. I need to go to the Emergency Room. However, that is a roll of the dice.
An emergency room visit can go one of two ways. You can get a jerk of a doctor who thinks you are medication seeking, or a junkie, or just does not believe in giving narcotics for migraines in general so he gives me an anti-inflammatory. It does not help. The give me another shot of the same. Still, no help. They say they do not want to give me anything else and let me go, with hours wasted in a cold, hard waiting room. In a cold, bright, and noisy emergency unit. I ALWAYS have the person next to me a. puking, b. crying for help, c. screaming for no reason, d. or talking way to loud and it seems like in too good of a mood to be in the Emergency Room. Again, any noise-nails on the chalkboard times 100. I wish I had stayed at home.
Scenario two goes like this. The doctor is nice. He or she understands I have a history of migraines. Understands when I tell him or her what does and does not work for me. Dilaudid, a powerful narcotic right into the IV is ordered. Then the wait for the nurse. It takes an eternity. When she comes in I thank God that relief is on its way. The nurse opens up an alcohol pad to swab my IV port. They always give you an IV because with being nauseous, you tend to be dehydrated which makes the migraine worse. The alcohol always smells good, the only thing that does to me at this point, because I believe I have associated it with the shot that brings relief. She puts the needle in the port and does what is called an IV or intravenous push which is pushing the medication slowly over many seconds, unlike a flu shot that is quick. A lot of IV medications are IV push. The principle being that it does not wham you all at once. I wait less then a minute. Then sweet relief. My whole body relaxes and I feel like I am floating. I try to talk to Tony he tells me to close my eyes and let the medication work. That is the ideal. And I do. And I thank God.
There are those times where you need two shots. The migraine may come down from an 8 or 9 on the 1-10 scale, to a 6. But still, I do not want to go home with a 6. A second shot is always good and helps get me down to maybe a 5 or a 4 if I am lucky. And then, if you get a nice doctor, he will give you a prescription for pain medication to take at home.
This is a war I have been loosing for almost 30 years. I have won some small battles but the migraine is the winner of the war.
It would be a good form of torture or punishment for anyone who has committed a crime. I can guarantee if you can induce migraines in criminals, they may turn their lives around. It is one of the worse forms of torture, and it is torture, that I can think of. Okay not the worst, but if you have one, you know what I am talking about and it ranks up there.
I am happy and feel blessed for everyday I do not have a migraine. I have found a lot of non pharmaceutical methods that have worked such as Reiki, acupuncture, massage, and yoga. I do these as much as I can. But the migraines still come. It is like knowing your enemy, and being prepared, but you can never win against this enemy. I will be fighting him the rest of my life.
It starts with a craving for sweets. Which I eat and it makes me sick to my stomach. It starts as a headache, but I know my aura and I know a regular headache from a migraine on the way. The lights feel like someone turned the sun on in my room. Every little noise is not only amplified but sounds worse than nails on a chalkboard. And it may just be a bird chirping. To me it sounds like a prehistoric monster screeching. My nose it stuffed up. I feel like I am going to vomit and that feeling does not go away with all the crackers and ginger ale in the world. All my food tastes funny. Even though I can usually only have crackers and ginger ale. Any smell is multiplied 100 times. A heating up some plain chicken to me smells like tons of rotten eggs that have been left out in the sun to bake. And I am freezing cold.
They migraines are always right-sided. It feels like something is pressing from the inside of my head, like there is something in there trying to get out. The pressure in my head is unbelievable. I often lay on my right side with my hand under the pillow putting counter pressure on my right temple, which feels nice. But laying on your left helps nausea. Plus I hate having to turn over to spit in the garbage. Like when you get ready to vomit but it is just a lot of saliva. So I often go back and forth, gently, between laying on my right side and laying on my left side.
I feel like I really might seriously die. I can take a lot of pain. I can even have, on a scale of 1-10 (I have grown to hate that scale over the years) an 8 migraine and still function to where anyone would not really notice how sick I really am.
Back to positioning. You will usually find me on my left side, garbage close by, in the fetal position with crackers in a tupperware container on my bed. And a bottle of water and my can of ginger ale. The pain is all I can think about. It is not the pain of something quick like a needle, or if you whack your leg really hard on the corner of something. If the migraines did not come so often, maybe they would be easier to deal with. But no, I remember as if it were yesterday my very first migraine at the age of 13. All I had was aspirin back then. Today I have medication for my nausea, and pain killers. Sometimes they work, sometimes they do not. That has always been a mystery to me.
I have had migraines that last an hour or two and one's that have lasted days. The worst one lasting five days and I was hospitalized and all they could do was give me an intravenous push painkiller every four hours. (Intravenous push means the medication goes in slowly, over a period of many seconds. It is not a quick shot say like a flu shot)
I have been to tons of doctors. In different states. I have had more MRI's than I can count. I could probably not only set one up and perform it, but read you the results as well!
You know what I want to know. My why? Why me? I would not wish this on my worst enemy. It runs in the family. I literally want to scream when someone is talking and laughing in the bright light and say they have a migraine. They have no idea.
I once saw some art done by patients in a neurology unit where the artist portrayed a migraine in a picture. It was beautiful. It was exactly, on canvas, a migraine. One inparticular was my favorite. But the other pieces were just as good at portraying a migraine and how it feels. And how it made them feel. But my favorite one I have etched in my memory. I wish I had it to show you.
I would like to try it. To represent my migraine as art. Accept it is hard to remember, to a degree, how bad it was when you start to feel better. I guess I would have to paint when I was sick. But how would that work? I cannot even lift my head.
I lay there and pray to God for the pain to stop. I take my medicine and wait. And wait. And wait. An hour goes by. It has not eased up. I cannot take it. I would cry but that only makes it worse. I am curled up in bed with the television on very low. I have a sleep mask on to shut out the light. And the volume really low on the television. I need it on though because the silence, when you are in pain, is deafening. At least the television fills in the thought train of "this hurts, this hurts, this hurts, I am going to throw up, this hurts, why won't it ease up, when did I take my medication, this hurts."
My husband comes in to check on me when he is home and I have a migraine. He rubs my head gently. He rubs my shoulders and back. Just the motion gets my mind off of how sick I am and how much pain I am in. But of course an arm gets tired after a while. But when that happens, I get an apology, which is silly and I tell him so, and then I get a "magic kiss" on my forehead that I now associate with Tony having a innate understanding of Reiki. As he puts his lips to my forehead, I can feel him breathing in the pain, to take on as his own, while at the same time filling me with good thoughts and good energy.
(pretty accurate depiction but my eyes are closed and I am on my side)
Another hour goes by. I wonder how long this migraine is going to last. I want to take my head off my body. Everything makes me mad. I do not want anything touching me, sometimes not even my husband for rubs. I wonder how long this is going to last and if one extra pain pills will help. Although it, again, sometimes does and sometimes does not. I need to go to the Emergency Room. However, that is a roll of the dice.
An emergency room visit can go one of two ways. You can get a jerk of a doctor who thinks you are medication seeking, or a junkie, or just does not believe in giving narcotics for migraines in general so he gives me an anti-inflammatory. It does not help. The give me another shot of the same. Still, no help. They say they do not want to give me anything else and let me go, with hours wasted in a cold, hard waiting room. In a cold, bright, and noisy emergency unit. I ALWAYS have the person next to me a. puking, b. crying for help, c. screaming for no reason, d. or talking way to loud and it seems like in too good of a mood to be in the Emergency Room. Again, any noise-nails on the chalkboard times 100. I wish I had stayed at home.
Scenario two goes like this. The doctor is nice. He or she understands I have a history of migraines. Understands when I tell him or her what does and does not work for me. Dilaudid, a powerful narcotic right into the IV is ordered. Then the wait for the nurse. It takes an eternity. When she comes in I thank God that relief is on its way. The nurse opens up an alcohol pad to swab my IV port. They always give you an IV because with being nauseous, you tend to be dehydrated which makes the migraine worse. The alcohol always smells good, the only thing that does to me at this point, because I believe I have associated it with the shot that brings relief. She puts the needle in the port and does what is called an IV or intravenous push which is pushing the medication slowly over many seconds, unlike a flu shot that is quick. A lot of IV medications are IV push. The principle being that it does not wham you all at once. I wait less then a minute. Then sweet relief. My whole body relaxes and I feel like I am floating. I try to talk to Tony he tells me to close my eyes and let the medication work. That is the ideal. And I do. And I thank God.
There are those times where you need two shots. The migraine may come down from an 8 or 9 on the 1-10 scale, to a 6. But still, I do not want to go home with a 6. A second shot is always good and helps get me down to maybe a 5 or a 4 if I am lucky. And then, if you get a nice doctor, he will give you a prescription for pain medication to take at home.
This is a war I have been loosing for almost 30 years. I have won some small battles but the migraine is the winner of the war.
It would be a good form of torture or punishment for anyone who has committed a crime. I can guarantee if you can induce migraines in criminals, they may turn their lives around. It is one of the worse forms of torture, and it is torture, that I can think of. Okay not the worst, but if you have one, you know what I am talking about and it ranks up there.
I am happy and feel blessed for everyday I do not have a migraine. I have found a lot of non pharmaceutical methods that have worked such as Reiki, acupuncture, massage, and yoga. I do these as much as I can. But the migraines still come. It is like knowing your enemy, and being prepared, but you can never win against this enemy. I will be fighting him the rest of my life.
The Pile of Junk (that I love)
There is a pile of so called "junk" cluttering up and spilling over into my room, into the guest bedroom, down the stairs, and into my life.
It started out perfect. Not a list or empty jar or a craft project to be found. It started out slow, and, like an avalanche, picked up speed and took everything along with it.
My junk is my life. And I say junk with the utmost love in my heart. My husband says junk and papers and clutter like he has a bad taste in his mouth. Like the bile you get in your mouth just before you are about to vomit. And I think, if I do not toss this junk, it will consume me.
Nothing is dirty. I am not a hoarder. I just cannot let go of things easily. Clothes, books, friends.
My grandmother always taught me that something can always be used later on. Extra buttons, pieces of yarn, paperwork, paper clips! You name it, grams had it. I know consciously and subconsciously I picked up this habit.
I have been hospitalized for extended periods of time many times. When I was living at home, my mother took the opportunity to throw out all of my lovely and precious junk from my bedroom. I came home feeling better from the hospital to find and empty room.
OH...MY...GOD....
Where am I going to find out all the information I had written on pieces of paper all over my room? What about that special creme I use? That is the best body creme ever! Without the empty jar, how will I remember the name of it? Where is everything?
After I got married, my husband took the same opportunity of me being at the hospital for a prolonged illness or surgery to clean up my junk. I came back with bare walls, bare floors, and pain in my heart. He may as well, along with my mother, had just thrown my life away.
But now as I spoke to a friend this week, I know, and have always known, the things I hold onto, for the most part, have no value accept to me. And even at that, a good portion of it belongs in the trash. I just cannot let go, and this goes for a lot of things in my life. Just as the pile grows in my room, it also manifests inside my body into "junk" and causes me to be sick.
I am tired of being sick.
I need to get rid of the garbage.
Everyday goes like this:
Husband "Maybe you can work a little bit on (and I am tuned out right away, because I know what is coming) that tray table. Do not overdo it. Just clean that."
Me: "Okay"
I already know, even with the best intentions, it will not get done.
Because it is like forgetting about someone really important to me that is no longer here.
But there is someone living who is really important to me too. A suggestion given to me was, start with one piece of paper, and when I throw it out, imagine making my husband happy, making our relationship stronger and better.
Talk about positive reinforcement! Why didn't I think of that?
Still another friend said, if I can physically part with it, but not mentally, take a picture. Well I flashed to the Spongebob Squarepants episode where he had the same problems with keeping his junk. It poured out of his house and by Squidward's house and property. So Spongebob took pictures. So many that, once the garbage man picked up all the garbage, all the photos came busting down the front door. I imagined the same thing happening to me. And I smiled.
I promised myself, as I do everyday, that I would start on that tray table. But I am mentally and physically tired.
There are two of me. The Molly that sits back and looks at the piles and promised herself she will at least start tomorrow and is sure it will only take a day or two to clean it all up.
Then there is the other Molly, who says it is impossible to look at every little thing and clean it up, even in a years time!
But for my sake, my sanity, my husband's peace of mind, it has to be done. And done yesterday. Half my day is over. Or more precisely, half of my husband's work day is over. My workday starts when his does - 2pm. So I have other things I WANT to do. Nobody WANTS to clean, well accept maybe my mom. (LOVE YOU MOM!!). So I am faced with the me that knows I can clear that tray table off in about 10-15 minutes, and the me that just wants to keep holding onto my precious junk items.
Junk, if you hang onto it long enough, becomes an entity onto itself. So it is like parting with a friend. But as I have recently learned, when your friend is depressing and sad and nothing good comes of the relationship, it is time to dump said friend, as it is time to dump said junk. The junk, as of now, will no longer have a hold on me. It will no longer cease to exist.
I will make room for bright pictures on the walls and new rugs and curtains and knick knacks and all the things I cannot do now because junk covers the surfaces of the floor, dressers, even the bed.
So this is my ode, and my goodbye to my junk. This relationship can no longer be.
Bye - it was nice to know you.
It started out perfect. Not a list or empty jar or a craft project to be found. It started out slow, and, like an avalanche, picked up speed and took everything along with it.
My junk is my life. And I say junk with the utmost love in my heart. My husband says junk and papers and clutter like he has a bad taste in his mouth. Like the bile you get in your mouth just before you are about to vomit. And I think, if I do not toss this junk, it will consume me.
Nothing is dirty. I am not a hoarder. I just cannot let go of things easily. Clothes, books, friends.
My grandmother always taught me that something can always be used later on. Extra buttons, pieces of yarn, paperwork, paper clips! You name it, grams had it. I know consciously and subconsciously I picked up this habit.
I have been hospitalized for extended periods of time many times. When I was living at home, my mother took the opportunity to throw out all of my lovely and precious junk from my bedroom. I came home feeling better from the hospital to find and empty room.
OH...MY...GOD....
Where am I going to find out all the information I had written on pieces of paper all over my room? What about that special creme I use? That is the best body creme ever! Without the empty jar, how will I remember the name of it? Where is everything?
After I got married, my husband took the same opportunity of me being at the hospital for a prolonged illness or surgery to clean up my junk. I came back with bare walls, bare floors, and pain in my heart. He may as well, along with my mother, had just thrown my life away.
But now as I spoke to a friend this week, I know, and have always known, the things I hold onto, for the most part, have no value accept to me. And even at that, a good portion of it belongs in the trash. I just cannot let go, and this goes for a lot of things in my life. Just as the pile grows in my room, it also manifests inside my body into "junk" and causes me to be sick.
I am tired of being sick.
I need to get rid of the garbage.
Everyday goes like this:
Husband "Maybe you can work a little bit on (and I am tuned out right away, because I know what is coming) that tray table. Do not overdo it. Just clean that."
Me: "Okay"
I already know, even with the best intentions, it will not get done.
Because it is like forgetting about someone really important to me that is no longer here.
But there is someone living who is really important to me too. A suggestion given to me was, start with one piece of paper, and when I throw it out, imagine making my husband happy, making our relationship stronger and better.
Talk about positive reinforcement! Why didn't I think of that?
Still another friend said, if I can physically part with it, but not mentally, take a picture. Well I flashed to the Spongebob Squarepants episode where he had the same problems with keeping his junk. It poured out of his house and by Squidward's house and property. So Spongebob took pictures. So many that, once the garbage man picked up all the garbage, all the photos came busting down the front door. I imagined the same thing happening to me. And I smiled.
I promised myself, as I do everyday, that I would start on that tray table. But I am mentally and physically tired.
There are two of me. The Molly that sits back and looks at the piles and promised herself she will at least start tomorrow and is sure it will only take a day or two to clean it all up.
Then there is the other Molly, who says it is impossible to look at every little thing and clean it up, even in a years time!
But for my sake, my sanity, my husband's peace of mind, it has to be done. And done yesterday. Half my day is over. Or more precisely, half of my husband's work day is over. My workday starts when his does - 2pm. So I have other things I WANT to do. Nobody WANTS to clean, well accept maybe my mom. (LOVE YOU MOM!!). So I am faced with the me that knows I can clear that tray table off in about 10-15 minutes, and the me that just wants to keep holding onto my precious junk items.
Junk, if you hang onto it long enough, becomes an entity onto itself. So it is like parting with a friend. But as I have recently learned, when your friend is depressing and sad and nothing good comes of the relationship, it is time to dump said friend, as it is time to dump said junk. The junk, as of now, will no longer have a hold on me. It will no longer cease to exist.
I will make room for bright pictures on the walls and new rugs and curtains and knick knacks and all the things I cannot do now because junk covers the surfaces of the floor, dressers, even the bed.
So this is my ode, and my goodbye to my junk. This relationship can no longer be.
Bye - it was nice to know you.
QUOTE OF THE DAY
“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . ."”
― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves
(Why Melissa? That is my name. Mollydee is a nickname/pen name. Plus my mother loves Honey Bees. Melissa in Greek means "Honey Bee")
― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves
(Why Melissa? That is my name. Mollydee is a nickname/pen name. Plus my mother loves Honey Bees. Melissa in Greek means "Honey Bee")
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Quote of the Day
"When it happens to you, you will be surprised. That thing they say about how you knew all the time, but just weren't facing it? That might be the case, but nevertheless, there you will be. You will feel like you have been kicked in the stomach, that your insides have just separated to make room for something big"
-Molly Ringwald from her book "When It Happens To You"
-Molly Ringwald from her book "When It Happens To You"
Monday, November 4, 2013
Trapped in New Jersey
A lone gunman wearing all black carrying a shot gun started firing it inside of Garden State Plaza, a mall in Bergen County, NJ. This situation has been going on almost two hours. No one has been reported dead. There is communication with the people inside. Police are now moving inside the mall entrances to clear out the stores one by one.
No shots have been fired since around 9:40pm.
People are reported to be locked up in storage closets and various places until they know it is safe. They have been communicating with law enforcement and various family members with their cell phones.
The mall is on lock down - no one in, no one out.
Police have found one shell casing although there were reports of people hearing multiple shots fired. No injuries have been reported at this time. Thousands of people are still inside the mall.
Garden State Plaza is THE MALL. It closes at 9:30pm. So most people were on their way out when the shooter fired. That is the only good news. Many of them were able to flee when they heard the first shot.
Officials are going store to store with canines looking for this person, who , as of the press conference that was just televised, they believe has already fled.
I know many people are asking the question WHY? I want to know why!
There is too much of this going on in the world.
However even when we have answers we will still ask ourselves why?
I bet the first thing that will happen is people that know this man and will say "He was a nice and quiet guy".
My husband is a law enforcement officer and this hits way to close to home. I of course am praying for the people inside, but I praying extra for the police and swat teams, county police and sheriffs that are there now. Other police departments have come out to help. They are heavily armed.
What else needs to be said? I was just at the a mall today. What if this happened at my mall? What if that was me in that situation? My husband, who always accompanies me even when I run in for milk to a WaWa or some such store, waited out in the car today. And my phone was dead. My fault for not charging it. But what would I have done? I have been told so many times by my husband what to do in these types of situations. Would I remember under pressure?
The press conference just ended with the Mayor. He said he will be back in an hour but there was nothing else to tell at this time.
Two girl have just come out of a second floor store and are too shaken up to talk on camera.
Please pray for everyone involved.
No shots have been fired since around 9:40pm.
People are reported to be locked up in storage closets and various places until they know it is safe. They have been communicating with law enforcement and various family members with their cell phones.
The mall is on lock down - no one in, no one out.
Police have found one shell casing although there were reports of people hearing multiple shots fired. No injuries have been reported at this time. Thousands of people are still inside the mall.
Garden State Plaza is THE MALL. It closes at 9:30pm. So most people were on their way out when the shooter fired. That is the only good news. Many of them were able to flee when they heard the first shot.
Officials are going store to store with canines looking for this person, who , as of the press conference that was just televised, they believe has already fled.
I know many people are asking the question WHY? I want to know why!
There is too much of this going on in the world.
However even when we have answers we will still ask ourselves why?
I bet the first thing that will happen is people that know this man and will say "He was a nice and quiet guy".
My husband is a law enforcement officer and this hits way to close to home. I of course am praying for the people inside, but I praying extra for the police and swat teams, county police and sheriffs that are there now. Other police departments have come out to help. They are heavily armed.
What else needs to be said? I was just at the a mall today. What if this happened at my mall? What if that was me in that situation? My husband, who always accompanies me even when I run in for milk to a WaWa or some such store, waited out in the car today. And my phone was dead. My fault for not charging it. But what would I have done? I have been told so many times by my husband what to do in these types of situations. Would I remember under pressure?
The press conference just ended with the Mayor. He said he will be back in an hour but there was nothing else to tell at this time.
Two girl have just come out of a second floor store and are too shaken up to talk on camera.
Please pray for everyone involved.
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