Our Home is up for Sale. Every day is Open House. 12 Rounseville Road (Route 105) Rochester,
Cherie Poirier-Your Local Realtor NEW LISTING: Relax and enjoy the tranquility of this beautiful 3 bedroom, 2 full baths, sunroom, outside shower (hot & cold water) located in Rochester and situated on 4+ acres!. Check it out: www.bit.ly/12RounsevilleRoad or contact firstname.lastname@example.org.
Time for us to relax and downsize to a 55+ retirement location. After 40 some years, it is not an easy decision to leave our home with years of memories. Our sunroom that is 25X25 feet where all our fun developed with family for events. Adding a pellet stove made our seasonal room into an all-year sunroom. No matter how bad the weather is, we do not have to cancel the event.
The 4.11 acres is great for privacy. No one can build on the left of us with the land belonging to the Rochester Conservation land. Enjoy our outside shower with hot and cold water during the summer, and a deck off the master bedroom with skylights in both upstairs rooms. Great land for animals or growing crops if farming is in your heart.
Too many great features to mention this property. A great place to bring up kids with the grammar school two miles down the road and the bus stop directly in front of the house, even for the high school pickup.
Being right on Route 105 has been a blessing in the winter. The state plows you out right away to get where you have to be in a hurry. We are 1/4 of a mile to Llyod’s Market, two miles to Plum’s Corner, which has a restaurant, bank, dance school, lawyer’s office, yoga studio and a cafe.
Come and take a tour to see if this is a fit for your family.
Al & Alberta Sequeira
Alcohol and Drug abuse leads into a depression. Here is an honest talk with Jim Carry talking about his. To learn from others on depression from addiction, read What is and isn’t Working for the Alcoholic and Addict written by 34 substance abusers from the United States and Canada. They open up about what they believe does and has not worked in recovery.
Thirty-four alcoholics and drug addicts from all walks of life from the United States and Canada tell their personal stories on what did and hasn’t worked in their recovery programs to doctors, counselors, family members and society.
The Sequel, Please, God, Not Two from Someone Stop This Merry-Go-Round: An Alcoholic Family in Crisis:
For the last time, Dr. Sousa met with the immediate family in the doctors’ conference room. “Lori’s organs have all shut down. It’s only the life support keeping her going. The next stage is her possibly having a heart attack, as we talked about. The stress of no organs working is going to cause something dramatic to happen to her physically. In two days, Thanksgiving will be here, and it would be sad to have her die on that day. Any day is bad, but the holiday won’t have good memories for you.”
How could any of them after this, I thought.
We all knew what he was saying. I believed that she died on Sunday, when she had been rushed to ICU hemorrhaging throughout her body. Here it was Tuesday, and we were selfishly keeping her alive by a machine, only for us. She no longer looked like Lori because of the horrible battle her body had gone through trying to hold onto life.
After an hour, the family decided to take her off life support. We were now hoping God would take her swiftly without any more suffering.
Oh God, how do we do this? Once life support is taken off her, she’s gone, never for me to enjoy again. Why didn’t you take her Sunday so we wouldn’t have to make this decision? I felt like we were about to take her life instead of God doing it.
Family members took their time to be with her for the last time. Everyone carried pain on their faces along with the continuous flow of tears.
Lori’s son Joey and her daughter Meagan, arrived and entered the room. We weren’t sure if they should be in the room while they took the machine off their mother. They needed good memories with her.
The nurse spoke softly to our family, “There’ll be no sudden movements from her, and she’ll go peacefully. We can take the ventilator off her, but I’ll keep the tube in her throat so you won’t hear gurgling sounds. They can upset a family.”
I suddenly felt sick and dizzy. Nausea overtook me. Why did she say that to us? My legs were ready to give out. When Al saw my emotional and physical distress, he got me a chair.
The nurse walked over to disconnect the ventilator.
No, don’t touch her! Please, God, not her too. You took my husband, Richie. I’m not going to live through this.
I was trying not to become hysterical, fighting the desire to scream at the top of my lungs. I fought to control the urge to go over and reconnect the ventilator.
She can’t breathe. Put it back on! I was in a state of horror, although, my body was absolutely still, just staring at my daughter.
“It won’t take long,” the nurse said quietly.
Lori was in the slow process of dying, and the nurse walked around quietly collecting things to be thrown away after shutting everything down. She had no emotional ties.
I watched the monitor as Lori’s vital signs started to fall. Her normal heart rate was erratic with short to long wave lengths.
Stop this. Oh, God, her heart is stopping. We’re killing her!
I stood up and kissed her, while the tears blinded me. I whispered, “Go to the light, Lori. Jesus is waiting for you. Take everyone’s love with you.”
She took two deep breaths. Her eyes suddenly opened and rolled back. The nurse came over and closed her eyes so they wouldn’t frighten anyone, but she was too late to hide the scene.
“Oh, God, No, No, No!” I screamed. My daughter was gone. I cried uncontrollably as Al held me. The other family members left the room in tears. My daughter,Debbie, Al, and I stayed.
I sat looking at my daughter, lying so still; no chest movement or sound of her breathing were seen or heard. My child whom I had carried for nine months, the one who moved inside me, the child to whom I had given birth and watched her lungs fill with air to give her first cry. All the memories of love, her laughter that echoed in rooms, were gone. I had watched her take her first steps; watched her go from a child to a teen, to a young woman, to a mother. Even the bad times were good, because she had been with me.
Now, I was there to see her take her last breath. I watched her come into this world, and now watched her leave it. God gives and He takes away, because we belong to Him. Our children are a gift from Our Heavenly Father. In the end, we all return to our Maker.