Masks - an allegory

Masks, maps, and apologies. Masks, first. 

Do you know what is still so weird? The feeling that I can reach out and tell Brandon a funny or a gripe I have. I miss that. The ease with which I had that availability to talk to someone that had been there for half of my life.

When I have those moments of starting to shoot a message to him, I feel a sudden “thud", like running into a brick wall and being abruptly stopped dead in my tracks. Nope, you cannot do that. There's only a small handful of people I talk about this with. And, I'm even sort of lying to them. 

When I say I'm good, that I am fine, really, I find myself doubting everything I had thought I had known, mastered, gone through, etc. since...Since losing Brandon. Right now, I do not know how to do it. It - life. I feel fake. I have been fake, with everyone. 

As though what people see is what I want them to see and I am enabling that, too. Put on a smile, look presentable, laugh, Are you wearing clean clothes? take goofy pictures, or take serious pictures showing that hey, I am among the living. Please tell me I am doing well. I do not want to fail. Dress up, dress down, hide the truths about yourself with makeup or clothing to disguise yourself. Brag on myself and my little accomplishments, look what I did... Use filters, look your best. Ugh. 

Why do we do that? Why DO we do that? Acceptance? Confidence? Needing to hear kudos? I am definitely guilty. 

Who you see in photos I share is not me…not the real me…It is but is not. I am just not sharing those honest (truthful??) ugly scenarios with anyone, really. Perhaps I should. 

Would it be therapeutic? 

Maybe. 

Does anyone want to see the ugly side of things? Is anyone curious? Or do we all just pretend that part of living does not exist.

I sometimes think that folks really do not want to see real. I for one though, appreciate the honesty when folks share with me, even if it hurts. I need to become better at being THAT person instead of who I have become. Again - trying on different "outfits" as it were to try and find out who I am.

I am going to make a start. Not only mentally, but also physically, take off that mask. Here I am. Lines, scars, nothing to hide the “stuff” one would normally hide when trying to make a good impression.

Like me for me, right? 

Baby steps first, I suppose. 

This is plain old me. No more masks.

Hi...

It's nice to meet you. 

Reflection and Chrysalis

September, 2022

Reflection and Chrysalis - Sounds like an oxymoron. Perhaps it is in a way. We will see. 

I will see. 

Reflecting - looking back, what could I have changed or done differently? Nothing.

Chrysalis - a transitional state, becoming. What shall be? that remains to be seen. To quote Rush - 'hope is epidemic, optimism spreads.' I'm going to cling onto that idea. 

Reflecting: No matter how prepared one thinks they are for a huge change, one will always look back and wonder 'what if'. The afternoon that a call came in from the doctor that had started treating Brandon's symptoms, I literally looked in the mirror after I'd brushed my teeth and put my hair into a ponytail and said to my reflection, 'your life is about to change.' I knew. He knew. WE knew. 

The drive was awful, punctuated with awkward silences in between trying to rationalize what we had an idea we would hear when we walked into that office. Long 45 minutes of feeling like you were about to walk headlong into every horrific scary movie scene possible. A walk you could not stop.

The image - I love imagery - of walking into a big empty room with a small brown wooden door at the other end is what I felt. 

You walk through the room and shadows from the stark lampshade-less light overhead follow you. As you approach the door, it opens and there is nothing but darkness beyond. You hear a silent roar inside your head that you cannot escape from, your hands are damp with sweat and you cannot stop yourself from walking through the door. You are thinking, if I scream, I can wake up, but you ARE already awake and all the scary things you imagined in your entire life are about to happen.

That is how I felt. Cannot stop entering that black within, but desperately wanting to not even approach it. We got swallowed up when we stepped inside. One story ended and a new horror began. 

Fast-forward. A year and five? months later.

Chrysalis: This is where I attempt to maintain some measure of decorum in transitioning from a couple to a single. A single who had previously been in a long-term relationship that ended abruptly. 

I have been trying on different outfits. Have not quite found one that fits me, yet.

I am coming up on four months "after" in this new period in life. I liken it to a nightmare I have, the one where you are supposed to be attending a class and taking a test - college or high school, take your pick. 

You know you should be attending it, but have no idea where your locker is, what your combination is, who your teacher is, where the class is. You have already missed several tests, it is mid-term and grades are about to come out. You are about to fail. You try and try and never find out where you are supposed to go. 

THAT is kind of how I feel right now. If you have never had that nightmare, please, call or write me. I will be happy to explain. It is awful. If I had a therapist, I am sure they could explain it all to me, but I digress. 

I am in the phase of "where do I go from here because I no longer have a road map." I am in that transitional period of being squishy, covered in goo, all tied up and pinned down in my own shell and cannot seem to find my way out. Lost. 

Part of me knows this is a process and all natural, but since I am being open here, I still cry; Sometimes it happens unexpectedly when I am out walking or driving, or in the middle of cooking, or at work. Sometimes I feel it coming and accept it and let it happen because it feels so good to just let it go. Other times, I try to quell it down because it feels inappropriate and then I get angry.

Sometimes, I feel so lost, I will queue up some music that I know will make me cry because I feel empty and needed to remember what it feels like TO have feelings. It is not every day anymore, but often enough, still. 

Part of me feels that I am a burden and I need to not share because eww, move on 

I will do that in my own time. Move on...but not in how one would imagine moving on. I will grow, but not forget.

Right now, this is my chrysalis. I am becoming. I will fly again. 

Hint of Autumn - Haiku time

 Sun is hesitant,

The morning is slow to start.

A hint of Autumn.

Three Months

September 6

Today is the three-month mark since Brandon died. To be exact 92 days ago at 8:19 am this morning. 

I had a pretty rough weekend, long weekend with it being Labor Day. I took Friday off too, so today is my Monday. Monday always seems like a rough day. Definitely is, today. 

Because of the long weekend, I had a lot of time to sit and think as it were in between working on stuff around the house. Sometimes, that's a very dangerous place for me to be. 

My mind tends to wander and a few times, it took a really wrong turn. I also made the mistake of watching a show last night where I had heard a prelude of what was to happen. To say it struck me really hard right in the gut is a severe understatement. 

I kept waiting; I knew about how the event in the show would happen and like a train wreck, I could not look away. I started to turn it off, but I could not make myself do it. 

I wonder if three months ago, if my face looked like the actress's face when she lost her love. 

When I looked back at stuff over the weekend, I realized what it all felt like; an extremely fast ride in which you are essentially strapped into a seat and have no control over how fast you go or which way you'll turn. You have limited decision making other than - keep going forward or else. 

Eventually, the ride speeds up even more and before you can even emit a scream, suddenly a wall looms before you. That wall is it. Boom - the end. 

A few seconds later or a few hours later, whenever it happens...you stumble to your feet in a daze. Serious mind fog, what just happened? Am I hurt? Is my partner hurt? Where are they? They were just here. You may be a little or a lot out of breath or you may even be gasping for air. 

After all that, after you regain your breath, your footing? You are left in a pile of rubble, left to wonder what the hell just happened and where you are to go, now. 

That is where I am right now. 

I had that feeling walking into the kitchen last night for something. Just a "what the hell is any of this," moment. Is this real? Am I real? It literally stopped me in my tracks for a half second. 

It was a very fleeting feeling and I felt foolish for a moment afterwards, but I can still remember how it felt. It felt like that anecdotal wall. Just Boom. Fast uncontrollable ride, sudden stop, and now this new crazy reality. 

Today is one of those days I just feel like I need a "it'll be okay" talk from Brandon. 

I always try to put on a happy face, but honestly? part of me got really messed up when I hit the wall beside Brandon while squeezing his hand.

I made it, but he did not. His story ended three months ago. And I hate I cannot speak to HIM again about anything. 

I remember when I was a little girl, nine years old, how "wrecked" I was physically after a car hit me one morning on the way to the bus stop. I woke up two days after the accident in a pediatric ICU; my face was covered in stitches, both of my eyes were just about bruised shut, both blood shot, severely broken nose, upper lip split open, swollen, hurting. I do not remember the accident itself at all.

After a while though, while I was healing, I knew I would not look like that or feel like that forever. But I remember thinking, I  will always carry those scars and feelings and remember that first glance at myself in the mirror when the wounds were still fresh.

If anyone happened to look closely or knew about them, they would see those scars too, otherwise, they would have no idea they existed at all. They are faded, but not gone. 

I imagine that some day, after time has passed, more than three months for sure, that the feelings of doubt, of pain, of uncertainty that I am carrying around in this "fog" I am in right now will fade, too.

The hope is there to regain my confidence, my stride, my strength. However, right now, I feel like the scared little girl who woke up in a hospital bed 41 years ago all alone hurting all over and not knowing how in the hell I wound up there. 

Drifting helplessly

Sunday, August 28

Where my mind wanders a bit...a lot...some...too much.

I have been looking back at pictures this morning and wince at times seeing his face from the "before", knowing that in a noticeably brief time, time we had no comprehension of being over that fast, that that once happy smile would be gone. Along with it, so would mine.

Then I start seeing the pictures from when we were in "it". I start seeing where the weight of the new reality had set in for both of us. I see goofy pictures I had taken of myself from when I am trying for optimism.

I also see the ones I took of myself where I had lost my shit and memorialized it. 

Then I catch a brief glimpse of myself in the mirror in this "now" and cringe. 

Why I am punishing myself is unclear, but I liken it to self-flagellation. I need to find a way to renew my confidence.

Who are you? 

I do not feel like me, but then I do not know who me is anymore. 

So, how do I know that I don't feel like me? 

Something is just off. I look like me, yet I also look so tired. Laughing feels fake, smiling feels forced, I look empty. 

Those moments I feel a little thrill of joy? I feel I should suppress it. Probably because it feels good and maybe I should not be feeling like that, dumb as that may sound.

I had a long chat with my mum on Friday after a long work week. I had expressed how lonely it all is. I do not NEED someone here twenty-four hours a day but having had someone there to talk to every day and then suddenly not be there sure is an adjustment. 

I do talk to him, though. Aloud. Everywhere, walking through a store behind my face mask that I still wear, driving down the road, cooking dinner...half out loud, sometimes just under my breath to myself. Some of it just internally. 

'You would die laughing if you saw <insert whatever I was seeing that gave me a laugh>' or 'Can you believe <whatever it was that was puzzling or startling, etc.>', or 'Brandon, how the fuck do I do this <usually house stuff or car stuff or motorcycle stuff or navigating the mounds of paperwork from "after">' 

Those dialogues throw me off here and there. 

'Hi, I'm talking to a dead person', half expecting him to answer, half hoping he would answer and other parts thinking I would freak out if anyone answered. 

Part of me feels like I am a crazy person for having those chats. Maybe I am...  Although, I do not suppose they are out of the ordinary considering the situation. Other parts of me want someone to say, 'Excuse me? you okay?' 

At that, though, I would feel pretty dumb. 

I hate that stuff around us, locally and nationwide has changed and he was not here to experience it, too. He is not here for me to talk about it, hence me lamenting on life and the afterwards where I feel like I am drifting helplessly. 

Today I am just trying to focus, because I think I have been floating along on this crazy in slow motion ride.

I joined yet another group of folks online who are going through the same thing - loss, but with their own definitions of grief. 

It has helped me to see I may not actually be a nutcase, but still does not lessen the fact that I am all alone in a boat with no sail right now. 

If anybody is out there, please tell me, someday, some way, somehow...? It'll all be all right. 

The In-Between

August 24, 2022

Sitting here just musing on things. My mind tends to wander into a million different directions - always has. Sometimes, I find myself thinking the inanest things. That is where I have been finding myself here lately, in this weird in-between. Lot of inner dialogue. 

What am I going to do? About what? 

Anything, everything....

Well...prioritize. What do you WANT to do?

All sorts of stuff.  

Okay - name one thing.

Be happy.

Okay - what is Happy? 

What IS happy. Period. Not a question. A statement. 

Be free from worry (hah!!), feeling more confident (working on that), Pushing myself (working on that), finding a corner of the house to change or make YOURS (working on that. I started putting down vinyl plank flooring in a room last night), Be yourself (sometimes, I think I'm too much...), Breathing in and out and not hurting with any rise and fall of my chest, Crying and letting myself cry when and/or where ever and being okay doing it (this part is hard as my perception on myself when I do it is of "fuck, get over it already, no one wants to hear this or see it") so, I've been working on it and letting myself bawl and feeling better afterwards when I can. 

There have been some weird moments in this stage of things where I keep thinking, oh, I need to share this or that with Brandon. I have woken up a few times thinking I had heard him; a cough or a muffled sound like a door shutting or something plunking down on the floor. I have mentioned this before, however it is a bit more regular, now. It is still an odd sensation.

Sensation of someone being there and being available but in that in-between of remembrance of what IS real and that millisecond of thinking I can still talk to him in person, is still odd. I do not know how else to phrase it. Other than, it does not feel real?  

 Yet, it all IS very real. I do not know what stage of grief this is. I know I have felt all of them. They come and go in waves. Some days are okay and some days, I would like to not have to get up and be. 

Some days I feel like I can accomplish anything, have little moments of victory, and share them with friends and family - affirmation. This is impressive (to me)....is it impressive to you, too? Then I feel foolish, bragging. I should just look at it as Hey, I am proud. That is it. No comments needed. So, for a little while, I have quit sharing as I felt guilty at feeling happy.  

That is it...guilt. I just put a name to it. 

I have been working on me, too. 

Physical - trying to get more steps in. Some days that is difficult as previously stated, some days I do not want to be awake because it is too much, much less having the desire to be active. That whole part of me went out the window when Brandon's health went further downhill. Eating was just to eat to get some calories in, no care for nutrition or being health conscious - mostly because his tastes had changed with the chemo and radiation and his disease. Some days it was here, have a piece of candy just so you can say you ate. Spoon of applesauce in him and that is it? Great! I will eat the rest. My diet went down the drain. I have been doing better, though I would like to think.

Mental - Mmm...thoughts, doubts, fears, loads of processes going around in my brain. Time to get your head in this new game you are in now, girl. What that entails? I do not know, still working on that game plan. I have just been taking time to see who I am. 

Quirky, chatty, open, resolute at times - other times quite indecisive. Seeks affirmation but at the same time puts up opposition at affirmation. Yes? no...can't be. Difficult, probably? Maybe. Definitely probably. Make up your mind! <screaming to myself> 

This will eventually get better I imagine, after the in-between. 

 

Continuing on

 August 14, 2022

I had an "angry day" the other day much to my chagrin. I know, yay, so what? What was the anger about? Who cares? Why? 

Culmination of a lot of things. This one in particular was about a bill that had come in (again) through USPS. Well okay, so what was the deal with that? 

It'd also been sent via text and email to Brandon's phone and email address, 8 times prior to that day since June 22. 

I called them and unfortunately, sounded pretty terse. Hi - this is the wife. I get you want this bill paid, I've been paying it, but you guys are starting to harass. The guy also sounded "turdy", so that fussy part of me felt warranted for having a tone in my voice. 

They wanted me to set up a payment plan, to get my checking info over the phone or my credit card info over the phone and wanted to get my cell number or my work number to call me direct. Hah! No. Hard no.

After I hung up, I called a friend whose husband is a lawyer and set up a time to meet with them to get stuff figured out and make sure I'm doing what I need to do in hindsight. 

Then, I kind of lost my shit.

I was so mad. I felt like I'd lost any control I'd been trying so hard to find after losing Brandon. I'd been feeling like I was doing okay; had a routine set up for daily stuffs. When stuff like appointments popped up, it was okay to say 'alright, this part of the routine has to move to later', etc. But this...This realization that I had lost a bit of the control I was seeking, punched me right in the gut.

I'd lost my stride and in that, my breath and my hands were grabbing my belly, my chest, my throat... trying to force it back in. 

When I was finally able to feel the ground under me, the tears (aaaagh - always crying, I feel) and a lot of bitter feelings popped up. 

I looked at my situation of I am "it" as far as taking care of everything including myself and right then and there, it was too much. I didn't see an out or a way to resolve anything. As such, I got angry at Brandon for "leaving me" with all this crap.

I can look at it now and rationally say, You ARE going to be okay, but right then and there, staring at the papers strewn on my table, and the spreadsheet I'd started, and the "homework" my friend had given me in advance of my meeting with them and felt absolutely lost. 

Why me? How me? What now? How will I survive? I felt like I was hemorrhaging  money (I'm not) in looking at my bills vs. income. The meeting with the lawyer will help.

It did. And, I do have options.

I talked to a couple friends and expressed my anger. I talked to my Mum, too. I felt awful at having those horrific feelings, but I'm finding, all of this is normal even if it feels like I'm somehow casting a bad light on him. I'm not and I don't want anyone to ever think that. I'm just trying to figure this new me out.

This, this blog/diary/spewing of my thoughts on virtual paper is a great outlet for me to digest as it were feelings, thoughts, opinions. Why am I sharing? 

It's just my modus operandi. My method for doing life as it were. I think out-loud. I talk about stuff, sometimes to myself, sometimes to my pets, I do it here, too. 

I imagine all the worst situations and put myself into those situations and figure out ahead of time what if. It sounds goofy, but I've always been that way. Then, I act upon the situation in front of me and look back and say well, that was nothing to worry about even though you built it up to be a huge mountain. Instead, it was a mole hill. 

This page though is where I go back in my head and re-assess how maybe things could have been done differently, reassess my feelings at the moment that thing was happening. 

Sometimes I smile, other times, I wince and make a face. Oof, Why the hell did I do THAT? Other times, like recently, I cry and feel bereft. Sometimes I feel angry. Mostly, though? I feel like I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

Living, breathing, not dwelling (too terribly), learning, growing? maybe...

Like the tides, water (feelings) come in regularly and bring things to the shore or in my case, surface of awareness that one must deal with. Once the waters go back down, what is left on the shore is probably not going to be the same thing that I was looking at yesterday or even earlier in the morning. Slate wiped clean or slate muddied up with things I need to figure out. 

*I* am continuing on. I am learning who *I* am and how *I* want to live. My slate is fairly clean and I'm figuring out what I want to have written on it. 

This is my affirmation of all of those feelings. Notes to my own self, goofy as it may sound that Hey girl, You've got this. You've always had it. Now, you're just doing it a little differently than you'd done a short while ago. Redefining yourself and being okay with it. Being alone, but not lonely. 

Navigating the grief - Redefining Mel

 August 1, 2022

Monday - I actually slept in today. I took today off from work to just "be". Whatever "be" is. 

Reflect, sleep, not talk to people, not be interrupted by daily work stuff, no hustle or bustle, just time to sit. Time to remember, not dwell, but remember. 

Eventually, knowing my own self, I'll get up to go do something to feel like I'm not just wasting the day - Finish mowing the grass, tidy up something, prep meals for the week ahead, wash clothes and bedding, go through more stuff to donate to thrift stores. I will probably dwell, though. Urgh. 

I fell asleep on the couch last night with a couple dogs buried under the same cover I had over myself. Easy sleep, long day, too much wine, too much sun, I'd gotten out all by my lonesome for a day of "junkin'" and checking stuff out at the annual bird fair locally. I'd been watching an enjoyable but predictable series on the tube, having easy banter with close friends on a chat and after a while, I just drifted off and woke up around 12:30 AM.  

Checked through the house, doors all locked, my "fairy lights" turned off for the night, coffee set for the fast coming morning, dogs tucked in. Got my shower, stared at myself in the mirror for a while, being overly critical of my own gaze. 

You, my dear, are a mess. 

It's now been two months solid since your husband died. I selfishly posted a pic on my social media page from a few years back when things were happy and I thought I looked fabulous. Honestly? I did it to boost my own self feelings to try and feel happy (hopeful?), reminiscent of days gone by when there were no worries like I have today. I feel like an absolute troll lately. 

I got in bed after brushing my teeth and smoothing skin cream over my face and the waterworks started up. 

What the absolute hell? 

It was "ugly crying" and I could not stop. Selfish crying, what am I going to do. What about me? I cried for about a half an hour. Had to get out of bed a few times because I felt like I was drowning. 

I think I cried because of the realization of the permanence of this whole new me. Being a new person after having lived for 25 years with someone in my life EveryDamnDay and suddenly they're not there. I'm going to be 50 in a month and a half and for 25 of those years, I had him in my life. Now, as a "single" woman, a widow (conjuring images of lots of black and a veil in my weird mind as I type), things are completely upside down.

I have never been on my own as it were. I'm learning to live, learning to say okay - eff this, or okay - this is cool, or okay - just no, or okay - back up, reassess, etc. 

I have days where I don't know what on earth I'm doing - does anyone really? I have days where I have absolute confidence and that was part of how I felt yesterday. I can do this, until that is, I broke down.

Then set in the uncertainty and I laid awake for a while wondering if I should just get up and try to do something else other than sleep. I believe all of this is normal, but if I may be blunt, it fucking sucks. 

All of this still feels like a nightmare that I'll wake up from eventually. There are days when I wake up from a nap and while still having those awesome fuzzy feelings of drowse, the carpet gets pulled out from under me and I think - oh. Yeah. Your husband died. That wasn't him you heard...it was a memory of the sounds you'd hear of him moving through the house before he was hospitalized. 

This is one of those stages of grief I suppose. I don't know which one. I've felt all the feelings. Anger, denial, bargaining to some extent (that was much earlier on I think when he was still alive after his diagnosis), Depression (presently) and a smidge of acceptance. That one I think is going to take a while to surface and show its face. Although if I'm being really honest with myself? I think some of the stuff I've been doing around the house IS acceptance of him not walking back through the door, nudging his shoes off in the kitchen and going on about his day. 

Acceptance - weighty word of the new me. Depression - the reality of who I am right this moment. 

I am a mess. I am going through grief after the loss of half of my life essentially. Please, give me time, ignore me when I'm being stupid, bolster me when I have "a-hah!" moments, but please my friends, just be there. 

Love to you all...

Be Unafraid - Traversing life and notes to myself

 July 25, 2022

Broken lawn mowers, cars that won't start, figuring out 2-cycle engines and their fuel type, roof stuff, bills from your now deceased husband's hospital stay, etc. Ordinarily, these types of things would be handled by "us". Now it's all Me. 

When moments have you down and you feel broken, cry. Do it. 

Notes and advice to myself - Mel baring it all.

I have had weird "cry moments", weird what in the world am I doing? Weird, what am I going to do? What SHOULD I do moments. Stepping out of the shower while a song is playing that just touches me. Boom, waterworks. Driving down the road and seeing random stuff, crying out of the blue. Eating dinner while watching a silly video, reaching for my phone to share a funny with him and pause. Oh, can't do that, he's not here anymore. Fuck. 

Just, <sigh>. 

Time, don't wipe your memory off my lips...Desmond Child - Obsession. 

I don't want to lose memories or thoughts or feelings from "before". I'm learning it's okay to fall apart, so long as I pick myself back up again and dust off, however cliche' that that may be. I'm learning it's okay to cry, it doesn't mean I'm weak. It means I feel, I'm human, I'm a mess...

This whole thing is a map I've never seen before except from afar. It has switchbacks I've never wanted to try but now am being forced to drive UP and through, pretty much with blinders on. One inch at a time, one curve at a time. Straining to peer around the bend as it were to see what's ahead. Most of the time, I can't see around the curves or the bends or over the hills. I try to look back and remember and yearn for those easier times, those easier roads. 

Sit back, girl. Fasten your seatbelt. Breathe.

Breathe again - in and out. Feel the emotions, see them for what they are. Loosen your grip on that steering wheel. Let that sweat dry. Keep driving, keep walking, it's okay if you fall and have a moment. This whole grief thing is different for everyone. Just.Keep.Doing.It. 

We don't take American Express...

The day of Brandon's death...

I was sitting in the car "after". I'd talked to my sister-in-law and one of my own sisters for a little bit. Had some music playing, air conditioner running, trying to gather myself to make the drive home. It had to have been around 11:30 or so. I really don't remember the exact time. Everything was a bit of a blur at that point.

My phone rang. I didn't recognize the number but answered it. 

"Hi this is Eric from blah blah blah..." He went on to say that he was calling from the hospital and wanted to know if Brandon should be taken to a funeral home and if so, which one or was he to be taken directly to the University for the anatomical body donation. 

I was still in a bit of a daze but responded no, no funeral home, please take him straight to the University. 

Eric went on to say that he had a number he was going to give me. I needed to call the service that would be transporting his body and needed to pay them. 

Me to myself. WTAF. Thinking...Can't you bill me? 

Me to Eric, uhm, sure. Let me find a pen and a piece of paper or something to write on.

I dug around in my bag while tearing up again because seriously? WTF My husband JUST died. 

I called the number and talked to Terry.

Terry was very ebullient over the phone; I lost my mom and sister and we carried them through this service, too. We're all family here and your husband is now a part of our family. 

Me - uhh. That's kind of creepy.

She went on to say they'd take care of him, etc., etc. Then got down to business.

Our services cost two hundred and fifty dollars for transport and we don't take American Express. 

Me. Uhm...okay. Visa okay? 

She was chatty for a bit assuring me, reassuring me while she got my info after which I hung up and just sat there for a bit.  

Talk about a very bizarre transaction.