Waiting. Room?

I'm here at the cancer center watching mother somehow rest peacefully while poison slithers through her veins. There's a strangely calming silence in a chemotherapy treatment room and many telling smiles are exchanged amongst strangers here. There is no need for explanation... no small talk...no curiosity. We are all here because someone we love has cancer and it really fucking sucks.

In a weird sort of way, it's comforting.

Mom seems to be doing much better than I am. Either she's hiding it well or she isn't half as scared as I am. She's fighting cancer... I'm fighting the urge to cry. "Be strong. Just be strong," I keep telling myself. She can't know I'm afraid. Can't know that life without her hardly seems like a life worth living. She can't know that I'd happily stop everything I'm doing and spend every waking moment getting her through this if I could... because I can't make that happen. But oh, oh, do I want to.

During our time here, I have managed to lure my very selfish cousin up to visit mom, as well as pick a fight with my "boyfriend." I decided it was wrong for him not to be more interested and supportive today, without actually telling him. Then I did tell him (via text) and decided he wasn't responding the way I want him to. Sabotage? Probably. But, mom's treatment is going to go on for at least six months and if he's really in this... really trying to be a part of my life... well... he's going to have to try harder. I tend to think it's a much lonelier feeling to have people in your life (that are supposed to care) fail you, that it might just be easier to literally be alone in the first place. Why wouldn't he offer to be here? I certainly would have and I also wouldn't have been totally focused on "golf weekend." No, I'm not a man, so perhaps I simply can't understand... but when I think of the family I have and the family I want... golf clubs don't come before hard times.

The "boyfriend" initially mentioned we'd see each other Wednesday. I hadn't even had the chance to tell him I had a work event that night. He also said we'd see each other this coming Sunday. But last night, he mentioned he'd be tired on Monday so Tuesday would be better. Really? He doesn't plan on seeing me for nine days? I work full time, and am here with mom during chemo and this unemployed schmuck can't manage to see me for nine days?! HE'S going to be too tired?!

Tempted. I'm tempted to dump him. Maybe he needs room. Maybe I do. Maybe he needs to see what nine days are like without me... maybe without any contact at all. Maybe it's time to move on. Maybe I'm just acting out because I'm scared as hell and I feel like no one can understand or find the right thing to say. Maybe I watched too many movies and expect life to be more than what it truly can... Maybe I'm expecting too much? Or not enough...

Crazy Little Thing Called... Life

Tomorrow is mom's first visit with the oncologist for lifelong cancer battle #3, current battle #2. This is step 1 in determining the schedule of her chemotherapy to fight the cancer they have found in her lymph nodes.

Step 1 in my own official freak out.

So much has been happening. So many things that grab you by the heart in one hand, and the brain in the other, squeezing tightly to see which one cries "Uncle!" first. Last week, I was unexpectedly asked to run for office. (Please envision whatever facial expression best communicates "What the fuck?!" to you now.) Being one of those seemingly delusional people that actually believes you can change the world... I was flattered, thrilled, and ready.

However, after a brief courtship with mythical opportunity and many secret meetings reminiscent of bat caves and kryptonite... reality, my love for my mother and cancer punched me right in my frontal lobe. As it should have.

The very thought of not being there for my mother... not being there if things got bad, or really bad, was absolutely horrifying me. I could not sleep. I was already guilty of the unthinkable for thinking. And I really mean guilty.

My mom is my world... and my world is being threatened. Like a classic game of battleship... life was trying to outwit me. Trying to distract me and weaken my strategy to survive. My strategy to get my mom to survive.

I was neglecting myself... my own life... my mother's life... the simple things that bring me the most joy. Oh this thing, this crazy little thing we call life.

More. Cancer.

Mom got her pathology reports back today. And... there's more cancer.

Damn't.

After all of these surgeries, and a hopeful report back from the surgeon, it looks like the thing we feared most, chemotherapy, is next on this terrible journey. Not that there ever is a good time for chemotherapy, but my brother just accepted a job out of state. Having him living with her through all of this has been a major factor in my surviving this ordeal.

The cancer is in fact in her lymph nodes, so the doctors have decided she needs "sandwich therapy" which involves chemotherapy, radiation, and then more chemotherapy. Mom's just not the healthiest person, cancer aside, and this whole chemo thing just scares the shit out of me, frankly.

I don't know what this means for any of us and of course I'm not happy with the news. I barely made it through this last surgery without losing my mind. I can't imagine months of vomiting, hair loss, pale skin and test results that seem to take forever.

Am I strong enough?

Is she strong enough?

Troubled Waters. Where's the bridge?!

I'm officially submerged in the troubled waters of cancer, trying to make a relationship work and seriously failing, fielding calls and emails... trying to act like everything is okay when I really just want to cry and perhaps kill people. Well... I know I don't want to kill people, but the thought of having one less person to lie to and say I'm "okay" sure is appealing.

My was-boyfriend, now who-knows-what-the-fuck-but-I-think-we-broke-up guy was champ enough to meet me today so I could re-hash our disastrous Opening Day excursion with 17 of his friends and family that somehow still managed to say they all liked me even though I was seething mad at him by the end of the night.

Boy do I hide things well.

Anyway, I couldn't eat dinner despite only surviving on an orange for the entire day at work and finally asked him to have my food wrapped while I stepped out to avoid crying in public. We then went to the river's edge and I did the unthinkable (for me) and told him everything that had been weighing so heavily on my soul... complete with tears and strange gurgling sounds from my very upset stomach.

"You're not going to throw up are you?"

Thank God I didn't.

Mom's 6th surgery is tomorrow at 2 and I'm praying for her life and my sanity that this is the end of this whole life-isn't-fair-and-cancer-sucks chapter in our lives. I'm at my breaking point. I can't hide it anymore and I just really do need to be "okay..." if only for a day. If only for a day...

Fighting

So much fighting these days! Mom's already fighting breast cancer and now the latest discovery: she has uterine cancer to fight as well. During our all day stay at the "prestigious" hospital, I fought with the nurse...

I've been fighting the urge to break under the pressure. I've been fighting fatigue. Fighting my house that doesn't want to stay organized while I fight all these fights. Fighting with my boss. Fighting with my missing socks. Fighting to find time for myself. Fighting my gut instinct that my wanted-to-be-exclusive guy is a schmuck because maybe it's really me... That resulted in a fight through texting.

I thought I was a lover not a fighter. Wait. I AM a lover not a fighter. What the hell has happened here?