Haven't done a whole lot that I care to mention, but have been doing a lot of artwork which can be found on my deviantart! http://midnightaislinn.deviantart.com/

Copied and pasted from my deviantart journal, starting September 16, 2010 to present.

Things may be a little sparse or actually come flooding into my gallery- it all really depends on whether or not I'm at the hospital or here at home, trying to keep my mind off of things.

To tell the story in its summarized version: my dad had a heart attack Thursday evening, he was rushed to Coshocton hospital where he was life flighted later that evening to Zanesville Genesis Health Care hospital. He went into respiratory distress, was intibated, put on ventilated oxygen and sedated. Afterward, I received a call from the hospital asking permission for a heart catheter because I was his next of kin. I agreed and was transferred to another nurse so she could bear witness. I arrived at the hospital 7:30 in the morning, after receiving the call at 5am and calling my grandmother to inform the family. Dad was wheeled into the OR as soon as we got there. Later on, I was confronted by doctors needing my permission to give dad a bypass, because all of his arteries to his heart were completely blocked but one, which was 90% blocked. I gave my signature and felt like I signed his death warrant because the doctor said it was only a 50% chance he would survive.

Later on, again, I was given more forms to sign for anesthesia and blood transfusions. As to why, a woman my young age had to sign was beyond me, when his brothers, sister and aunt were there. We found out at a much later time that afternoon- dad had to undergo a triple bypass and had a few complications, but was stable for now. Many things happened during the next period of time, but I'll leave most of them out (his heart became weak- barely beating, lost a bit of blood and so on). The doctor stayed with him until he was confident enough that he would be fine before he came to talk to us. So, around 4pm we headed home after being at the hospital over 8 hours. I was exhausted because I hadn't slept at all the night before BUT I went to do my usual Friday routine. I was at the bar, working and talking to family since I was feeling a bit better- I had warned a few people that I was bitchy and not in the mood to deal with any BS. After serving and waitressing, I learn from my uncle that dad was rushed back in for another emergency surgery because he was bleeding internally and having breathing issues. My one pair of aunts and uncles went back to the hospital that evening and informed me that he is fine. I talked to my grandmother a bit and she tried to get me to bed. I didn't fight her, so I took a sleep aid to ensure I'd sleep (I was up over 35 hours by this point). Of course, 830 this morning- I get a call from my one uncle and he told me that dad is doing great, heart muscle is stronger but he discharged a bit of blood which the doctor said was normal. At 6am, he woke up from sedation, was nervous and jittery because he didn't know where he was so the doctors gave him something to calm and put him back asleep- that is all I know now, because the doctors won't call my uncle again until 7 this evening.

We're all under a great deal of stress, because my father is the bar manager at one of the local bars and things are going to hell there. Needless to say, we want him to heal quick and get back to his normal self, just so we can all be happy and stress-less again.

I had and am still questioning my sanity, because I did nothing but sit and walk around that hospital waiting for answers and updates. During one moment, I thought to myself "Dad, please come back, PLEASE! I don't want to be left alone- I'm too young!" and I heard in reply with DAD'S VOICE: "I will, tootsie." I bawled because I didn't know if I was imagining it or not. But my family doesn't think I'm nuts because of it. With all of the complications he's gone through thus far, he HAS come through it. That little voice is what gave me the hope that he will pull through this, since I had been so negative and pessimistic through it all.

I have never cried so much in my entire life.

I might update this journal as I find more out, or not; it ultimately depends on whether or not I need to get things off of my mind.

Update:
Dad is doing better now, still unconscious due to sedation and his heart is getting stronger. The fluid in his one machine is getting clearer which is also good, according to the doctors.

And I am here alone with my thoughts, emotions and three pets. My aunt and uncle came over to retrieve my dad's medication because the hospital requested it and we discussed some things- I even told them a couple of my worries. Most of the bills are paid automatically at the first of every month, I am lead to believe and am hoping so. Monday morning, I have to head over to the Auto shop to get my Taurus worked on and I am unsure whether dad paid him ahead of time or not- my aunt doesn't think he did, which would leave me with trying to figure out what to do: go and get my car worked on and hope he'll accept "you'll get paid later, when dad gets out of the hospital" or just not go... I really don't know. As for the bills which are delivered in the mail, I have no way of paying because I do not have access to dad's bank account. I really do feel helpless with all of this and don't want to burden my willing family with the mail bills, but I don't know what to do. My grandma has enough worries as it is and I just don't want to stress out my dad's family with these issues.

As for things I found out, when dad is out of the hospital- he won't be able to work so that'll be $300 less a week we'll have and I don't think I'll get paid my weekly $20 for working, because he's the one that pays me. Monday night, there'll be a meeting at the bar where we work to discuss who'll temporarily replace dad and such. I REALLY want to do it, but I think my age may deny me that opportunity- I know most of the ropes. Dad showed me and I went to work with him early in the morning a few times. If I'm unsure, I'm sure there'd be someone there to help me. If I did manage it, I'd still keep our income the same as always, but I really doubt I'd get this chance. I can always bring it up, with low hopes as to not have them dashed too extremely. All of this has me so worried, because I've never experienced the work life outside of that bar and I LOVE it to death despite the bad things that have happened there. I've told many people, that I would LOVE to work there when I came of age. Damn, I feel so lost and helpless.....

Would there be any point in going anymore, if I didn't get paid. Would I really be able to when dad is fresh out of the hospital? I have so questions running rampant throughout my mind. In order to sleep at night, I have to drug myself with sleep-aid. This is just too much for me to bear, but I need to hold on- if not for me, then for my dad and blood/adoptive family.

Update 2:
Yesterday evening, I went to the bar as I kind of didn't want to be home alone and there was a meeting concerning a few things I was interested in. Well, I managed to eat something there (after finally getting hungry) and chatted to a few people I either knew or knew me- I was doing fine until my uncle Scott called and told me a few things: a, dad might need another surgery because one of the valves in his heart is stuck open instead of opening and closing; they (being the doctors) figured that's why he wasn't getting any better. He told me a few other things about how he chewed my ex-mother out for blowing up dad's cell phone with text messages and calls. So, that little issue is resolved, I think! Michelle came in and we had a little discussion about the future of the bar and she wanted the currently (was at that time) open Bar Manager's position; later on, she got it because the other dude wasn't responsible and the higher ups wondered how he even got in there, in the first place- but not long after that I got a call from my other uncle Denis telling me more details about what was going on because he was one of the people actually at the hospital.

He tells me that the doctors think dad is too weak for another surgery to fix that valve and that our options are: either to attempt the surgery and see if that works, or put dad on life support and pull the plug. Can you IMAGINE how upset I am by this point? I was in the ladies room in that bar BAWLING until Michelle took my cell phone and talk to my uncle to see if she could come with us to see my dad, since they were best friends. He told her 'no' and she said to me that we could sneak up there later in the week. My thoughts were, of course, "is he going to be alive then?" I'm barely coherent at this point, but I still leave the sanctity of that restroom and resume my seat, buried my head in my arms and cried more with a couple of people attempting to soothe me. Earlier on, someone who knew dad and I gave me a card to give to him when he was awake to read and a couple hours later, I wondered "is he even going to be alive to read it?" I'm seriously questioning things here.

Around 7:30pm, I left the bar and headed straight to Grandma's- I barreled out of my (technically, dad's car) car and up the ramp into Gram's home. I ran into her arms and bursted into tears AGAIN. I stayed there for a while, seeking comfort and telling her what all I heard. She was upset about it, but not as much as I. After I left, I headed home and noticed people sitting on my front porch steps, waiting for me to get home. I get out of my car, they came over and grabbed me into a hug just as tears began to fall, again... I received a couple of phone calls from distant cousins and other family members that night; along with one of dad's old friends, Father Ed. I called him a few minutes before, leaving a message on his machine that he needed to call me back as soon as possible. He called and I relayed the information in its summarized version, as coherently as I could manage and he even told me I wasn't selfish for wanting dad to stay alive (I thought I was). Before we hung up, he told me that he would mention us in mass, pray for dad and especially for me to stay calm and make it through all of this.

One of the people who came over decided to stay with me, in case I had another mental breakdown; it was really nice of her. She was afraid to leave me alone, even if it was just to go back to her house and get clothes. The entire time, even now, I'm wondering (and hoping it's me) who'll get the final say in this decision of life and death. I'm hoping it's me, because I'm the one who has had to sign the forms regarding the surgeries and so on AND I'm his next of kin. Now, if it isn't me- would that be right? Yes, I am not his blood, but that man adopted me and treated me like his own child. For that, I should have the right to do something and if my decision is to have the surgery done and dad turn up dying on the operating table- wouldn't that be better then dying in a bed, slowly, with no chance given? I am at wit's end at this moment, and am clinging onto what little hope I have that dad will pull through. Everyone says dad is a stronger fighter- but if the soul is willing but the body is unable, does it really matter whether a person is strong or not?

Within an hour, I'll have to go to my uncle's next door and wait on the other family members to arrive, that way we can all come to a decision. My uncle Denis said we need to decide what to do, before we get to the hospital. I want to be heard and my voice to soar, so my feelings can be expressed and out there on the table. Sure, they may lose a brother or a nephew- but I may lose A DAD! This is the price of being a pessimistic, always thinking on the worst side of things instead of being optimistic and thinking good thoughts. I'd rather think poorly, then to think positive and have my hopes crash and burn. This morning, I called my grandmother and talked with her for a little while, and at one point she said that if they were to do the surgery, then we should ALL go to the chapel and pray. She said that knowing how I am and I tried to tell her; it would take a BIG miracle for me to believe again and frankly, I don't see a miracle happening in the future.

I've had people question me whether I knew if dad had a living will or not and my answer has been the same: "I don't know, all I know about is the life insurance dad had to make sure I was set in the event something were to happen to him." All of this has kept me from sleeping well, had a nightmare last night and was surprised I actually woke up from it- I was thankful I did wake up from that one, at least. But it has me wondering, how many more times will I wake up afterward?

I just don't know.... I can't help but think of dad as a liar for saying he'll come back to me. I'm so full of regrets right now, for taking him for granted and such. I hope I'm wrong for calling dad a liar- I really do.

Update 3:
Waited on my family today at my next door uncle's for about an hour, because we were all told different times; 10:30, 11:00, 11:30am. When we were all gathered, we started discussing what to do and it was a unanimous decision to give dad a fighting chance. So, we head to the hospital in two separate vehicles- I was with my uncles Bob and Paul since we were early, we stopped at Arby's in Zanesville for a bite to eat. My uncle Paul paid for it all (and getting treated to meals feels VERY weird to me; it's like I'll owe them later on down the road): we're eating and such, finally finishing up I decide to check the voice mail on my cell phone since my ex-mother had decided to call and leave a message because she couldn't take the hint of my ignoring and deleting her texts. She tried to guilt trip me into talking to her because of the situation with my dad, because as it turns out; the more people who are told the situation the farther away from the truth it gets. One of my family members told her that they (meaning we and the doctors) were pulling the plug on dad, which ISN'T true. It turns out, we didn't even have to make that decision, dad got a little better over night and improved earlier this morning.

They gave him Lasix last night which apparently kicked in around 11am this morning, which was revealed as his bladder had been working really well getting the fluids out. He gained a bit of color in his face today, but his feet were really pale in comparison. His eyes opened, but had that blank look like nobody was home and it worried me, because I only saw the green of his eyes and no life behind them like he always had. Dad also fidgeted around a lot while his imminent family were there- I held his hand most of the time after the doctor consulted with us about his status. At one point, he had a horrible coughing fit and it seemed like he was choking, his face turned really red and the machine was going off like crazy which REALLY worried us all. One of the nurses fixed his tubing and added more saline, then he was fine. He responded to me fairly well, when he fidgeted around I told him to calm down and relax- he did. The doctor talked about hoping to get his heart catheter out later this week and then working on removing his breathing tube which means they'd take dad off of sedation. I'm hoping all goes well this time, because I would love to sit there and actually talk with dad instead of TO him. While I was holding his hand, he moved it so I had more access to his palm and a better grip- not sure if that means something or not, but it made me happy and a little tearful.

Dr. Keagey mentioned dad's liver taking a major hit and a valve leaking in his heart; the liver may recover over time, but the valve was like that long before the heart attacks it seems. He said it could be fixed later on, if it needed to be but if it were to be done now, dad would die on the table. It was a task to talk to dad without having to fight back tears and the sobs in my voice, but I managed it somehow; before I left, I whispered in his ear "I love you, daddy". Still trying to remain pessimistic, in the event things can take a turn for the worst. I had a few calls from family members thinking I'm suicidal (close, but not quite yet). We'll just have to wait and see, hoping things get better over night and the next few days.

"I didn't know I'd love you so much, but I do... We will always have each other, in our time of need- Daddy, you're the world to me." Repo! The Genetic Opera.

Furcadia Time
2 GD or port spaces for refs/line art
+2 GD or port spaces per character
+3 GD/ port spaces for color (color is done by pencil or else asked to do otherwise)

Dreams usually are priced according to size.
Small: 5GD (or one port space)
Medium: 15GD (or two port spaces)
Large: 20GD (or 3+ port spaces)

Skins:
5 GD each.

(If you cannot pay in scales, I am more than happy to exchange my services for something of equal or greater value. [i.e- life digos, port art, spaces, etc.])

Crests!
If interested- note me! The note must contain the details of what plaque you want, and if it isn't Hellsing, please provide visual aid. Upon viewing the image, I will decide whether I'll take it up or not. If I do, this is the other information I'll need.

Address, and engrave details*

[*I do engravings on the back of the plaque, this is entirely optional.]

Prices!
Base price is $15- cheap, huh? (but that's where the +SH gets you [least I'm honest])

Currently only accepting snail mail, GDs, port spaces and life digos.

Status
Art Trades: OPEN!
Collabs: OPEN!
Commissions: OPEN!

Art Form:
Ref images -
Character name -
Gender - male, female?
Species - (Only doing human, angel and slight demon, currently)
Build - lightweight, medium, pudgy, anorexic etc?
Hair - style, length, color?
Flesh - Caucasian, dusky, black, etc?
Other - (Horns, wings, tail, etc)
Markings -
Wings -
Colors - hair, wings, eyes, etc?
Tattoos/Brands/Piercings -
Adornments -
Clothing -
Personality -
Pref mood -
Pref pose -