New Psychiatrist

I don't really love the VA....I mean, come on.....They haven't exactly been super helpful in our fight against PTSD.  We've met some good doctors, one or two outstanding therapists...and that's about it.  One exception is the PTSD program that is at the Lovell Federal health Care Center in North Chicago.  This program is rated, I think, like number 1 or number 2 in the country.  Hubs has spent 3 six week long stints in their inpatient PTSD unit.  Each time he's gotten more out of it, with this last time showing the best results.

The staff is great there.  They actually care about the patients and they are there to work for you, not against you.  Seriously, if your vet needs a place to go,  I highly recommend it.  Hubs was so enthralled by the level of care he received there, that he drove there weekly instead of going to our local VA facility.  In fact, he's in the middle of switching ALL his care from our local VA to the N. Chicago location.

One of his problems is that he's been on the same psychiatric medications since 2008.  Hello, hasn't anyone heard of tolerance?  Well, he's built it up against some of the drugs he's on.  His awesome social worker at N. Chicago recommended he switch to the psychiatrist down there and have a whole new makeup.  Last Thursday was the day of his appointment with his new psychiatrist down there.

As we walked into the hospital, I suddenly became nervous and full of anticipation.  Would this doc really be all that he was supposedly cracked up to be?  We'd been to so many doctors over the years.  Would this guy really help us?   Since he came so recommended, I had high hopes and I was just afraid that the bar had been set too high.

I was pleasantly surprised.  Hubs had been told by some of the other fellas in his group that we wouldn't actually spend that much time with the doctor.  Instead, we'd be with his nurse most of the time.  I was surprised when his name was called and there was no nurse, it was the actual doctor.  He led us down this long maze of yellow institutional-like hallways.  I remember thinking that they should really put some art on the walls or something to liven it up.  Anyway, we went back to his office and got down to business.

The psychiatrist was thorough......he actually took the time to go through the meds he'd been on and ask what was going on in his life, what symptoms he was going through.  I chimed in when Hubs wouldn't fully give out how bad it was for him.  I don't know about your veteran, but mine always tries to make it sound less bad than it really is.  The doc listened, interrupting when appropriate to ask a question or two, and he listened.  That was nice.....there was no psycho-babble going on.

Turns out the psychiatrist at our VA locally had him on not one, but TWO Benzodiazepines.    The doc whipped out some handbook that listed them as HARMFUL in the treatment of PTSD.  What the hell? That really got to me and Hubs.  Harmful??? and he was on two????  Unbelievable.   Hubs is now off those stupid benzos and only on one new drug.  The guy said it might make him sleepy at night, which would have been a good thing since he's up all night.  However, so far the darn things don't seem to make him sleepy.  However, yesterday was his first full day on them and he reported that he felt "happy".  

Tonight he is sacked out on the couch so maybe the drugs are starting to work.  I have to believe that not having as many drugs in him is a good thing.  He goes back in 4 weeks so that's promising too.....that we're going to receive follow up care.  Hubs only saw his psychiatrist at our local VA once every three months, which I always thought was dumb.

So, for now, I hold my breathe and wait and see.  THat's the nature of this, I guess.   You hurry up and wait for a new prescription, a new therapy group, a new EMDR session and you wait and see if it helps.  The psychiatrist made a good point Thursday:  medicine is not a cure.  You're going to get more out of your therapy groups and individual sessions to process the traumas.  The medicine is a bandaid to help you along the way.  Well, our bandaid had been holding on by a thread, a dirty, torn barely-there thread.  Hopfully this new bandaid will help hold him together a bit better.

The kids

My little baby boy is almost 10 months old.  It seems like only yesterday I was sitting at the kitchen table with my feet up because my ankles were so swollen they were disgusting.  Time sure does fly sometimes.  Just the other day he fit so well into my hands and was so teeny tiny.  Now the little munchkin is crawling all over the place and he's been pulling himself up on everything.   Yesterday he walked around the coffee table and around the couch by holding onto the furniture.  Yikes, not sure I'm ready for walking yet.  In fact, I know I'm not!

Then there's my baby girl.  She's been through so much, including the time in our lives when Hubby wasn't receiving any help from the VA.  She has had to see a lot, go through a lot.  I've tried to shield her, but I'm sure it's affected her....how could it not?   She's such a trooper though.  She's definitely got the sassy attitude....wonder where she got that?  Lol.  She's very artistic and I just can't wait to see what awesome things she continues to accomplish as she gets older.

Sometimes, all the time I worry about how all this PTSD crap is going to affect my kids.  Will they grow up thinking that this environment is normal?  I sure hope not.  I pray that they aren't going to need years of therapy and blame their mom for staying in an environment that isn't always probably the healthiest.  There's no abuse here, let me be clear.  It's just.....well......Our household is not really a happy one.  Hubs is depressed all the time.  I'm stressed out majority of the time.  How did we get here?  This is definitely NOT how I envisioned raising my kids.  I always wanted a very involved husband, and I always pictured us being very outgoing and taking our kids lots of places and having the Donna Reed type home where everything is happy happy.   Well, I'm not Donna Reed and he is definitely no whatever-Donna-Reed's-husband-was-called.

We do try though.  Even though Hubs is depressed all the time, he does try to put on a happy face for the kids.  We don't do as much outside the home as other families, but we do get out on outings like the local zoo, we take our daughter to the movies and I try to have a few playdates for her.  Even through all that though....there are days that I'm just too exhausted by the end of the day to make a great home-cooked meal for her.  My family eats more take-out and hotdogs than I'd care to admit.....but my kids are clean, fed, and they are loved.  Yes they are.

I hope they know how much we love them.  I think they do.  I hope that in the end, they grow up realizing that their dad did his best, and that he was a good dad, despite, or perhaps in spite of his fog of depression and anxiety.  I hope they grow up knowing their mom shielded them as best she could from the brunt of his irrational mood swings and anxiety-driven rages.   I think they'll grow up maybe a little older than their years, maybe with a little more weight on their shoulders than they should have had to have bared.  But.....Above all else, I hope they know that their mom and dad did their best.  That they love them, that they want the best for them, and that we would do anything for them.

I think they will.

A puke-filled car ride home

Last night involved good music, beer, throw-up, and a nasty smelling car ride home.

The day started out full of promise.  Hubs scored tickets to go backstage to be VIP with one of his favorite bands that was playing at a festival in Chicago.  We dropped the kiddos off with my mom and dad and hit the road.

We had gotten a bit of a late start and neither of us had eaten anything.  Hubs informed me that we didn't have time to stop anywhere, not even a drive through.  I must have looked exceptionally hungry and ill from the hunger pains because he finally conceded and drove through a McDonalds.  We still made it on time, and the festival had food so I wasn't too worried about it.  Plus, the fest had food, so I wasn't too worried about this.  I'll return to this point in a bit....

Anyway, the backstage area was really just the different bands and their vans/trucks with a beverage tent (a.k.a - The beer tent) and security milling around.  We met the band and had a photo op with them.  Then they pointed us in the direction of their own tent, which had the hard liquor.  Neither of us had some of their stock, but Hubs was all about the free beer.  I stuck with water because I kind of had a feeling of what was coming.

The band's set was great!  After they were done I wanted to go get some food because all I'd had to eat was that darn bag of fries and a coke.  Hubs, however, was more into talking to the band.  Okay, I got it....but I was hungry!  I eventually wandered back to the stage area to listen to the bands that were next.  By the time I went back to Hubs, he was three sheets to the wind.

Oh.  Shit.

I do not do Chicago traffic.  I get nervous just driving down 94 or 294 but I DO NOT drive actually on Chicago city streets.  I realized that my big no-no was about to happen when I saw my husband holding himself up by the tent pole.  He was slurring his words and swaying a little.  It was time to go!  Tearing him away from the band members, who he loves, was difficult, but I finally looked at him and told him I was leaving.

Luckily we were right by the interstate and got on easily.  Down the road, Hubs started asking if I wanted to stop at Joe's Crab Shack for dinner.  Before we got there, however, he threw up in the car.  Yeah, nasty.  He managed to throw up mostly in a cup, but some of it went on his leg.  Even more disgusting, he set the cup into the cup holder so I was driving down the road with a cup of puke next to me.   DAMMIT.

We did not stop for food, and I didn't drive through either.  I just wanted to get home.  I did stop and have him throw out the cup o' puke, but my hunger, which had been growing all day, was gone. (Gee, I wonder why???)

I got home, dumped Hubs off, grabbed my car that did not smell like puke, and went to get my kids.  I got them home, in bed, and by then I was too exhausted to get food.    So, the nice day turned ended kind of crappy.

 This morning Hubs was pretty apologetic.  The thing is, it wasn't one specific thing that made me mad.  I got that he'd drink, I got that he'd be a little starry-eyed at the band members.  But he went over, way over, on the drinking.   He acted like some stupid kid who didn't know how to handle his alcohol.  I told him this morning that out of all the people there, he filled his cup up the most.  He agreed.  He acted like a fool, and that's the part I hated the most.  

As we were leaving one of the band members told me that I was a saint.  Damn, I hate when people tell me that.  His therapist has told me I'm a saint, our pastor has told me I'm such a saint, friends, family....and now some dude at an outdoor concert who met us 2 hours earlier was telling me this?  He just can't do anything in moderation, and it drives me crazy.  Most people tell me I'm a saint because they know his issues....his PTSD issues.  This guy meant it because Hubs was really far gone and I hadn't had a drop of beer because I knew I'd have to drive him home and because I had to somehow get him to the car.  Either way, it sucks.  I don't want to have to be a saint.

What do I want to be when I grow up?

Decisions, decisions.  I've been blessed for the last year to be unemployed.  In today's economic pit of despair, that may sound trite or sarcastic.  Nope, I really mean it.  I have been able to stay home for the past year; First when I was very pregnant, and then after Jr. came I was able to remain at home.  For the most part, it's been lovely.  I love staying home with my little man.  I love being able to put Munchkin on the bus in the morning, and then be there when she comes home too.  I will say, that since both Hubs and I are home together, all day, every day....sometimes I do get a little crazy with togetherness.  But, that's a small price to pay.

As I said, I've been blessed to be able to stay home.  However, lately I've been getting the itch to get back out in the workforce.  Have a chance to make a little income, get out of the house for a few hours, and feel like I'm contributing to society.  (I realize I'm contributing in the best way already; raising children to be hardworking, decent humans, and taking care of a wounded warrior).  Then, when Hubs and I got into it a few weeks ago and the "D" word came up, I suddenly realized that if we were to get divorced, I'd be screwed.  I think we're over that issues (again), but I still would like to get back out there.

The question is, what should I do?  I am a teacher, licensed in grades K-12th.  Working full time though, is scary.  Hubs all alone every day, all day with Junior might make him go batty.  And he's not the best at getting up with the kids.  I envision a lot of late mornings, missed buses and frantic calls from him to my cell phone.  Yikes.

No, instead I've tried to look for jobs that are flexible and part time.  I interviewed last week for a position as a paraprofessional.  For those not in the education world, that means teacher's aide.  I did really well, and I'm invited back for a 2nd interview.  The committee asked why I would want to be an aide when I'm a teacher.  I explained that I still have a baby at home, this would let me work a few hours, and honestly, I wouldn't have the weekend lesson planning, the parents nights, the IEP meetings, etc.   I do wonder though, how I'll feel if I do get it.  Having someone else tell me what to do, how to teach it, etc.....might be nice at first but wondering if it'll drive me crazy.

Another opportunity I have looked into is that of a Family Engagement Coordinator.  It's VERY part time, as in 320 hours for the entire school year.  I like it because I can do it all from home and it could lead to bigger and better down the road.  I did a phone screening for that this past Thursday and waiting to hear back if I actually get to go in and interview.  

Eventually I would like to get a different career altogether.  The problem is, I have a lot of different interests.  I'm interested in Occupational Therapy, but that's a lot of school because it's a masters and I have none of the prereqs.  I also have an interest in school psychology or clinical psych.  Another area of interest is social work.  I would like to work with parents whose kids are in the Children's hospital.  See, lots of different areas and I don't want to commit to anything until I know 100% that I want to do it and stay with it.  Makes it a problem because I like aspects of all of them.

So for now, I'll continue to apply and interview.  If/when I do get hired on I think it will be bitter sweet.  

Zoo Day

Yesterday was a good day.

Hubs woke up and actually was kind of peppy.  He told me he wanted to do something with the kids and I, which is a BIG DEAL.  He hardly ever offers up enthusiasm and he actually suggested an idea for a family outing.  Turns out that the zoo had a Kids Night after hours and he was up for it.  We loaded up the kids and off we went.  When we got there, I saw that the parking lot was pretty darn full. Uh-oh.  I instantly started to get a little nervous that the crowds would set him off.  I held my breathe and in we went.

It was a lovely day.  Hubs never once lost his cool at the zoo.   We didn't argue, we didn't have to hurry up and leave because he was feeling claustrophobic.  We shared some fries, rode on the train around the zoo, and looked at animals.  Funny huh, how such a simple trip to the zoo is such a big deal to my family and most people probably take it for granted.  Do they realize how lucky they are?  To decide spur of the moment to go to the zoo and not worry about arguing, or if something is going to set them off?  Days like yesterday are few and far between for my family.  My goal, my plan, is to hold onto those days and talk about them.  Hopefully my kids will remember the good days more than the bad.

Here's an interesting fact:

"Like people, elephants can also become victims of past traumas and exhibit symptoms of PTSD years after the experience Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a condition that describes anxiety-based responses to life-threatening events."

G.A Bradshaw, PhD.

Yes, elephants can get PTSD.  I found that out watching some kind of documentary on ABC News or some other news program.  We stopped to look at the elephants briefly the other day.  I have a sense of kinship with them.  These huge animals, who look so gentle, can be brutal to humans because they remember the traumas.  Elephants never forget, after all.    Elephants have become my symbol that represents PTSD.  Watching them, I wondered if they have good days and bad.  Do they get depressed?  Do elephants worry?

  I've really got to stop blogging at 1:30 in the morning.  I don't know why I'm up this late.  It's like I get my 2nd (3rd, 4th, 5th?) wind and off I go.  Maybe because it's the only time of the day that I know I am not going to be interrupted by "mom, mom, mom....MOM!".  

  Last night I couldn't sleep.  I was up until about 4am and my children cheerfully got up at the ungodly hour of 8am.  I know that's not that late, but for me, it was awful.  Hubs, of course, was not in bed.  I told munchkin to go get her dad and tell him to feed her.  She tried, but he was so out of it that she came back up the stairs without him.  I managed to get her a bowl of cereal and her medicine before half sleeping back to the bed.  My head hit the pillow and about two seconds later the baby woke up.

Seriously?

It was a bad morning.  Hubs did come upstairs but he went right to bed.  I was frazzled and I snapped at him.  He had this wounded look on his face and I felt bad, but I just wanted to cry because I was so tired and stressed and it was only 9am.  I again brought up a divorce.  I meant it when I said it.  I finally got 10 minutes to myself and I cried in the shower.  I don't know what the heck was up with me.  I think, this past week has been stressful and my husband finally hit the nail on the head when he asked me if I was overwhelmed.

That's it!  I am just so overwhelmed with everything.  We had a talk, again.  I told him that I never get to sleep in.  It was more than that though.....I feel like the weight of our family rests on me.  He laughed and said it was funny because he felt the same, but for different reasons.  He feels it financially, because he brings in the bacon.  I feel it more emotionally and physically and mentally.  For example, when the kids get up, he knows that I'll have to get up and take care of them because I'm not going to let them just cry and scream and be neglected.  I can ask for his help, but if he falls back asleep, it's not that big of a deal because I'll be there to make sure everything gets taken care of.    It's not just the kids;  I do the laundry, i clean up, I do most of the cooking.  I make sure this household runs.  It may not run the smoothest, but I make sure it keeps on chugging along.  

There is no partner for me.  I can't really count on him, and it makes me sad.  He's a good guy, he really is, but I feel like,  I know that everything rests on me.  It's a big stress that rests on my shoulders and I think most of the time he doesn't realize how much I worry and stress over things.  

He told me that if I wanted a divorce, he would give me one.  "It's cheaper to keep her", I told him, which is a line from a song he threw at me the other day.  In all seriousness though, I can't divorce him. He is sick.  I wouldn't leave him if he had cancer, or if his leg had been blown off.  I made up my mind today, at that very second, that divorce is simply NOT AN OPTION.  The only way it would be, is if he got abusive to the kids or to me.  Since he's never been abusive (some verbal putdowns, yes, and a push a long time ago....but nothing like abuse and never to the kids) then I'm in for the long haul.  Since Divorce is not an option anymore, and never really was, come to think of it.....Then my whole mind frame has got to change.  Not, I wish this would get better.  Boo Hoo to me, woe is me.  Instead, it's more like Ok, what things can I do to change the outcome.  What steps am I going to take to protect me and my feelings when he gets like that.  What am I going to do to help him understand my point of view in a calm, meaningful manner?

Hopefully I come up with some great answers to these questions.  It's not going to be easy, but we've managed this long and I'm not giving up.  PTSD is not going to ruin us!!

what to do, what to do?

Hubs and I had a really bad argument the other day.  It was on the 4th of July and if you read the post from that day, it alluded to the fact that we'd had a nasty fight.  I was ready to just be done with it.  It started off a small thing, nothing really, but everything gets turned into a mountain of stress with the Hubs.  He got stressed and then he asked if I wanted a freaking separation.  WTF, no I do not.  I did that before, we were separated for a little over a year.  No, if we ever separated again, it would be permanently.

I figured he would calm down once he left, but he continued to send me nasty emails about how I was to leave him alone when he got home and how I wasn't "allowed" to talk to him.  What the hell?  I just let it go.  But, he was still pissy when he got home.  I remember he walked in the door, walked over to me, literally dropped our 9 month old on my lap and went out in the pool.  Nice.  Then later, he was even nastier.  I couldn't figure out what was his deal.  Then he started in on one of my family members and how he was a loser and an idiot because this particular family member is in the military and got a DUI and that is not how soldiers do things.  Anyway, he kept going on and on and the thing is....he was smiling while he was doing it.  He was enjoying that I was crying and so upset.  

That did it.  I told him I want a divorce.  "You're gonna get a divorce over that?"  Yes I am.   It wasn't the comments he made, it was the attitude, I saw the joy on his face while he made me cry.  He loved every second of it.  It made me sick, that this guy I married, who had once been so sweet, had turned into someone who enjoyed causing misery to others. 

The next day I went to my parents for dinner and I didn't mention a word to them.  I had been sick the day before so that was my excuse for Hubs not coming.  My dad took a family picture that day, and I remember he said something to me about photo editing my husband into the picture, since mom and dad are using that as christmas cards.  Whatever, is what I thought.  I managed to make it through the day without crying.

I got home and he came to me and got teary eyed and asked me not to leave him.  In a way, I think of it as abuse.  I don't think me means for it to be that way, but this is always how it is.  We fight, he's nasty, then he is sweet and calm and asks me to stay and he'll try harder.....until the next time it happens.  The crap thing is....I always fall for it.  I always have that little bit of hope that this time there really will be a change.

My husband sometimes reads my blog so when he reads this I am sure he won't be happy, but oh well. Here's the Gods honest truth.....I'm still not sure that divorce isn't the best option for me and the children.  I am not sure if I love my husband.  I love him but I don't know if I'm in love with him.  If we were single, I sure wouldn't be attracted to his personality now.....and I know he wouldn't be to mine.  We have nothing in common anymore except we created two little miracles that we both love.  

The other night, as we lay on the floor in our son's bedroom talking about things, we pledged to try and have more fun in our lives and be more easy-going.  That's one of the things I miss.....When we first got together everyone commented on how well we fit together.  We were both so easy-going and chill with everything.  We also both loved a lot of the same stuff:  live music, sports, traveling.   Now, he doesn't want to do anything and on the rare occasions he does want to go out, his good mood never lasts the entire day.  

PTSD has destroyed my happy little family.  My husband is a shell of what he once was.  He is so depressed, irritable, irrational and moody that it drives me bat-shit crazy.  I've become this hypervigilent, extra sensitive bitch woman who jumps on any little thing because if I don't stay on him and hound him, it won't get done.  Our daughter wets her pants and she's almost 7 and doesn't seem to care, and our son.....well.....he's good but I do worry about him too, growing up in this environment.

So why don't I go?  Why don't I pack up my babies and high tail it out of here?  Where would I go?  What would I do?  He's not a bad person.  he does love us in his own way and he does try.  He isn't physical, just intimidates when he gets mad with his words and actions.   I don't know what to do.  I am going to get my daughter and myself into counseling.  She needs it and I think I do too.  I need someone outside of the situation, NOT FAMILY, to talk to about this crap.  

I hate PTSD.

Happy Birthday, America

Yesterday was the 4th of July.  I should have been out at a BBQ, enjoying a cold beer and watching my kids frolic in the pool while celebrating my niece's 6th Birthday.   That, however, did not happen.

Yesterday morning I woke up with a tummy ache.  I thought maybe I had overdone it on the exercising the night before because I had gone balls to the walls crazy on an ab routine.  However, as I was getting the chick-a-dees up and dressed, my tummy was still feeling yucky.  Hubs told me that I didn't have to go to the party and I thought, "oh, i'd love to stay home and sleep this off".  But, Hubs does not do well with people, hello PTSD, so I sucked it up and said I'd go.  However, after another 10 minutes or so, I really was rethinking that thought.

I got the kids all packed and ready to go and then I heard Hubs on the phone to his mom tell her that I was being slow and we weren't leaving on time.  I realized I still had to get myself ready and there was no way they'd make it there on time with the travel time.  I still wasn't feeling 100% so I told him never mind, i'm not going.

YIKES!  He went crazy.  He started bitching about things and he ended up chucking his pair of keys at the wall and going on about how they wasted time because I wasn't going.  I don't see how time was wasted.  I hadn't sat on my ass, I had been packing.  What had he been doing???  Anyway, I told him sorry, but I just didn't feel good.  He got the kids in the car and off they went, with him griping the whole way.

I ended up sleeping on the couch the entire day.  Later that night, when they got home I did manage to walk Munchkin down to the lake to watch some fireworks.  However, it was NOT a great day for me.

I want to write more, about the argument we had and the decisions made, but it will seem too real if I write it here so I'll wait.

I aint 'fraid of no ghost....

Here's the deal.  I don't know what the hell happened the other night, but it was enough to FREAK ME OUT!  The logical side of me says it was nothing, but then I run through all the factors and can't think of anything that would have caused what I heard the other night.  So, in an attempt to keep my sanity, I'm going to blog about it.  You decide......figment of my imagination or do I need to call in the Ghostbusters?


***********

Friday night Hubs and I took our kids to Dave and Busters.  We met my younger sister and baby brother there.  All was good, happy happy and when it was time for the kids to leave, I took them home and my husband stayed out with my siblings.  I got home, got them tucked into bed and I realized I wasn't tired so I stayed up pretty late paying some bills, watching some TV, etc.  I also thought I'd stay up for Hubs to get home but a little before 2am I went to my bedroom and laid down to go to sleep.

My head had only hit the pillow for maybe 30 seconds when it all started.  First of all, I thought I heard something in the kitchen.  Figuring it was my cat, I didn't do anything.  Then, I heard my cat running down the hall outside our bedroom.  My cat always runs from people and it was like she was running away from something.   Again, no big deal.  She does play at night sometimes and I didn't think much of it.  However, something just didn't feel right.  I laid there listening to the cat when I started hearing what I thought were footsteps coming down the hall.  A little bit later I heard a voice.

The voice sounded like a woman and it was talking really, really softly.  It sounded like it was coming from across the hall in our daughter's bedroom.  Hubs likes to go downstairs and watch tv and I thought to myself, "oh, he must have snuck in and gone downstairs to watch tv and I hear it".  The more I heard the voice though, I realized it was not the tv.  Then I thought it was the iPad in her room or maybe the radio, until I remembered that right before I had gone to bed I had taken the iPad off her bed and put it on her dresser.  The radio had been off.

I started freaking out.  It definitely sounded like a lady talking, really softly to someone.  Then, to add to the Oh Shit factor, my cat starts purring, purring so loudly that I can hear it in my bedroom.  After about 1-2 minutes of listening to her, I got up and walked to the doorway of my bedroom.  The voice stopped.

Holy crap.  I tried to think of what it could be that I had heard.  The dog was whimpering in her sleep in the kitchen in her crate.  MAYBE i heard her and it just sounded like a human voice, but that's really iffy.  I jumped back in bed and I texted my husband who was still out with my sister and brother and told him our house is haunted.  He got home about 30 minutes later and he started freaking out.

As I sit here writing this, I realize that it's 1:15 in the morning and my family members are all asleep.  I keep poking my head up from the laptop and looking around, as if I'm expecting to see something walk by.  I would pee my pants if that happened, by the way.  As silly as it sounds, the day after it happened I said a little prayer that please if there is a ghost here, even if she's nice, she needs to move on out.

We tried to think who it would be.  We decided maybe it was my husband's grandma.  She passed away what...a year or two years ago and she always spoke quietly and she loved cats.  I know it wasn't my grandma, she hated cats and there's no way she would have got my cat to purr.

I know there's a logical explanation for all this, I just can't find it.  I hadn't fallen asleep yet, I wasn't imagining.  I heard a voice.  But maybe it was my daughter talking in her sleep, or the dog sounding humanlike.  Regardless, it scared the shit out of me.

What's the number to Ghostbusters?