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...

Sunday Summary

Choosing to lay low this weekend has proven to be the best thing I could have done for myself. I'm amazed at how quickly the sense of stress and strain lifted after I tackled neglected tasks. It is no longer Christmas in my house, everything is clean and tidy, and I found two bills that needed to be paid a couple weeks ago in the pile on my desk. I knew something had to have gotten lost in the shuffle!

I stopped by mom's today after I took out the garbage. During my visit I found out she had to go to the doctor today because she has drainage from another location near her surgery. She said she wouldn't gross me out with the details, but she may have an infection. It looks like they are going to have to perform surgery tomorrow to find out what is wrong. This is unsettling to me because of her prior issues after her mastectomy and we were really looking forward to having some treatment answers on Tuesday, and I'm assuming her appointment will have to be rescheduled.

Had I not gotten all of these tedious things done around the house, this news might have pushed me closer to the edge I've barely managed to avoid. The past few months have been extremely draining and thankfully I now know how precious balance is in life, so I'm wise enough to forgo more exciting things and rest when I can. When there is chaos you can't control at work and in your family life, being able to come home to a clean house, and knowing you have paid your bills is extraordinarily comforting; at least to me, anyway.

I asked my brother to go for a walk shortly after the news and we went down to the park to feed the ducks. Most of the river is frozen, so the poor guys had to waddle across the ice to feast on the old bread and bagel treats we brought for them. One big white duck was actually eating out of my hand! That kind of stuff makes me happy and I certainly needed the exercise. Spending time with my brother isn't too bad either.

Let's hope all goes well tomorrow. Thankfully, the office is closed tomorrow so I don't have to worry about missing work. I'd like not to worry about much anymore... but sometimes life has other plans for us and we just have to make the very best of it.

And Snow it Goes...

Unfortunately, the bad winter storms brought us more than just a lot of snow... they also brought us bad news. Despite the surgeon's impression that the nodes he saw during mother's mastectomy appeared normal, the pathology reports indicate there are more cancer cells that need to be removed. She must now undergo an additional surgery the first week of January. She is still having trouble with her blood pressure after last week's surgery, so I am very concerned about her having more anesthesia so soon after. But, we also can't risk allowing the cancer to grow and spread...

Over the weekend, I got the house cleaned and the bills paid. I was actually starting to feel a little less anxious and stressed. "I can do this," I thought. Until Monday came. Cancer is just an ugly little monster. It destroys the body, and constantly invades the mind. Just as I get to feeling strong enough to be strong for my mother, and strong for the family; just as I start to feel confident I can control the urge to cry at the most minute of things... I feel my insides constrict and the all of the air disappears from my lungs.

Why can't it just go away? Why can't we all just get back to simply living and loving? Why couldn't we have gotten news that they got it all? Why can't I get this out of my head? Why am I such a wuss?

Your friends don't know what to say to you and you don't know what to say to them. Family and friends are concerned and want to know the latest news... but sometimes you are just so sick of reliving it every time you give the report that you just want to scream! You don't feel like talking to anybody but you don't want to be alone either. You just want to talk about "normal," happy things... but you don't want to seem like a heartless, self-absorbed bitch either. You're angry. Sad. Scared. This is how crazy cancer makes you feel... .and you don't even have it! How the hell does my MOM feel?! I can't even imagine; and she will never truly tell.

Cancer Sucks

So mom's got cancer. For the second time. I can hardly begin to verbally recreate the onslaught of emotion that transpired over the last three weeks, so I'm settling for a juvenile summation: it sucks.



Monday, we took her for surgery. Because she previously endured extensive radiation with cancer bout #1, she had no choice but to have a mastectomy to combat the spread of disease. I will never never forget how I felt that morning. Seeing her so very vulnerable. Not wanting to fall apart. Drowning in the what-ifs cancer and surgery fill your brain with. Her surgery went well and for a moment I had high hopes that this was going to be as easy as cancer could possibly be. However, the next morning, her blood pressure plummeted to 66/40 and did not stabilize despite intravenous fluids and medication.



Today, she is awaiting lab results to determine whether her blood pressure issues are related to the surgery, or if she has an underlying heart condition that had gone undetected. There is a family history of heart disease and she has had high blood pressure most of her life... so the potential for difficulty is there. Obviously, I'm hoping it's simply the cancer we have to deal with.



Even though I've been down this road with her before, some 15 years ago, this time lends a sense of heaviness on the soul I just can't seem to shake. The twelve hour days at the hospital... the silent worrying... the uncertainty... the struggle to keep the tears from falling in front of her... and the never-ending "whys." Why her? Why now? Why cancer? Why does she have to go through it again!?



Keeping the family together, and keeping myself together was nothing short of exhausting. Thankfully, she got cleared for release, and I was able to get her home right before the roads here became too dangerous to travel. It seems as the proverbial storm calms... the literal winter one comes roaring through!

I was happy to make homemade lasagna tonight for my mother and brother to celebrate her homecoming. I set a nice table, lit the candles and Christmas lights, and let holiday music quietly fill the room. She isn't out of the woods yet, by any means, but she is home. And although we all know she is sick... at least for tonight she was just simply loved.

"And Then The Elephant Started To Tip Over..."

After work today, I went on mission "Perfect Christmas." A week ago, I had decided treating myself to a little Christmas decoration splurge was well-warranted. The last couple years had been a struggle, I hadn't treated myself to much at all, Christmas lights bring me a sense of peace, and, well, mom's got cancer and I'd like this Christmas to be special. My last stop was Hobby Lobby. I was wheeling my bright blue, strangely small cart stuffed with a small tree, a large wreath, garland, and ceramic Cardinal ornaments down the gift bag aisle when I head a loud thud followed by the sound of glass breaking. Another loud thud. More glass. Thud. Glass. Glass-thud-glass-glass-thud-thud-thud-GLASS!!!

Obviously something very bad had happened. And, obviously, many many things had broken. I knew this without moving my feet, or my little blue cart, from my shock-imposed position in the holiday department. I was afraid to look! A long stretch of silence implied that it just might be safe to peer around the corner and a little giggle snuck out of me when I thought of how much it would suck to be the person that took out $400 dollars worth of red and green trinkets imported from China.

"Oh my God! Are you okay mam?!" a frantic voice called out.

Okay. I had to look. It was my duty as a human... just in case they needed me to stop the bleeding, or, administer CPR or something... Thankfully, the woman who was impersonating the bull in the China shop was uninjured; but the same could not be said of an entire "end cap" display full of glass items and some giant cement-like animals that seemed to have nothing to do with Christmas.

After seeing a half-dozen people had come to her aid, complete with the store manager frantically zooming towards her with a wheelchair, I thought it best to leave the scene of the accident and get the hell out of there. As I headed to the check-out, I overheard her explain what had caused the mass destruction:

"I really liked this dog and I went to pick it up but it was too heavy. Then, the elephant started to tip over and I tried to catch it. I lost my balance and fell back into the shelves..."

It seems those damn elephants are everywhere!

Over the weekend, my mother's sister was unexpectedly in town. I had just left Chester's and was en route to retrieve my Saturday cheeseburger when I got the call that she was here. I didn't know if she knew and I didn't feel it was my place to tell her that mom has cancer again... so there was the elephant; right there in my cell phone.

My brother, mother, aunt and I went to dinner together. We spent two hours engaging in nonsensical conversation, covering topics such as: freakishly large fish caught in fresh water, clowns with lots of pockets, and childhood memories of vomit. Oh, and the usual "how ya been"s and "what are your plans for Thanksgiving." The elephant had come to dinner with us.

After dinner, my mother and brother got out of the car and went inside. I stood with the car door open about to ask what time my cousin was getting out of work and I saw the reflection of the elephant in my aunt's eyes. How is it that such a cumbersome beast can be so blasted sneaky?

A last minute decision led to a short trip out of town to visit my cousin and see his not-so-new place I hadn't visited yet. The nonsensical conversation resumed as my aunt and I travelled down the highway. But when she pulled into the parking space, she didn't turn off the car. She started telling a story. No wait, she was repeating a conversation she had recently. The elephant. It was right there on the console.

She told me she knew. I asked her if my cousin knew. Then we went into his apartment. Shockingly, more nonsensical conversation transpired. The elephant was back and I was left wondering if the travelling circus could use another performer. My cousin flipped through television channels, my aunt showed pictures of her grandchildren...

I couldn't stand it anymore.

"I know you know. It's okay to talk about it."

"About what? The giant elephant in the room?!" He replied.

Spinning

Holy hell is there a lot going on! I can't possibly verbalize the abundance of emotions I'm feeling right now. Just the thought of trying to is exhausting! So here's a brief inventory of my current dilemmas:

My 84 year old grandmother is STILL in the hospital. She has congestive heart failure, and lives in California... so visiting her is easier said then paid for.

My cat is doing better for now, but she is in some stage of kidney failure. She's gonna die. Right now, it's just a matter of on who's terms: mine or Jesus'. I'll find out what the vet recommends sometime next week.

The schooling program I have been jumping through hoops for for a year has become nothing more than a serious pain in my ass because the people in charge can't seem to send papers where they should in time. Classes are supposed to start next week. In support of my sanity and happiness... I think I'm going to scratch that plan off the list.

My relationship with Mr. Nice Guy, thankfully, is in a good spot. After a mildly neurotic and seriously awkward (for me) exchange of communications, it has now been officially established that we are an exclusive couple. However, with everything that is going on in my life aside from our new relationship, I'm concerned about him getting lost in the shuffle of my busy mind, thinking I'm a hopeless mess, changing his phone number, and boarding a one-way flight to Tokyo.


I sent a message to my Dad, suggesting that we meet sometime this summer. That was two days ago. I have heard nothing back from him.

My brother moved back to town. He's supposed to be staying at my mom's house, but... well that is a very long story. Let me just say that we are about to have an intervention of sorts, a last ditch effort, to encourage her to finally get her house in order. I'm happy to see him, and thankful for the opportunity to get to know each other as "grown ups," but I also have to take care of myself and have healthy boundaries. Because that is something I haven't quite mastered yet... this whole situation makes me a little nervous.

My new job is great, but there have been some sources of stress. Some are simply part of the natural process of settling into a new career, and others are the result of inefficient operating systems. I also have the reality of potentially losing my job in September, if we don't get much needed grant funding. My wounds are still rather fresh from being without a job for 10 months... so there is a legitimate level of fear associated with this. One thing I know for sure, is that I need to lay off the coffee, get some regular sleep, and make time to eat some damn breakfast!

None of this is more than I can handle. I just wish it wasn't all coming at me at once! I've done a lot of growing as a person, and was finally getting a good handle on the good, the bad, and the ugly that makes me who I am. Chaos is not my friend, so it is critical that I maintain some sort of balance during all of this. I just have to remember to... breathe. It wasn't that long ago that I had nearly given up on happiness. I had actually picked up the pen to write it off. But now that I've found it, and now that I have had some time to appreciate how beautiful inner peace and happiness truly are, I'm going to protect myself, and fight whatever battles are placed in front of me to the death!

Good Deed #14: Stop Counting!

Because I often have trouble keeping track of my own keys, and online passwords, I've decided to give my cluttered brain a break, and quit counting my good deeds! Fact is, I've done more than I have listed, I just find myself too tired, and feeling too self-absorbed when I number them.

So this last officially counted one, is actually two. One good deed for my mother, and one for me.

Tonight, all I wanted to do was slip in and out of consciousness, i.e. lay my lazy ass on the couch and nap sporadically... but I knew my mother needed her roots touched up, and I had already purchased the product. I'm pretty sure she wanted me to do them last night, because she asked if the "beauty shop" was open, but after she saw my eyes drooping and heard me yawn repeatedly... I think she didn't want to bother me. So tonight I called her and told her there was a cancellation and she could come whenever she wanted.

My mother hardly ever wears makeup... not even mascara; and claims to not know how to do her hair. She grew up with 60's stick straight long, brush-and-go hair... so it's very possible that she's telling the truth. Her former stylist did a great job with her cuts and colors, but she also worked where I was so unethically cut from the budget, so she quit seeing her. A display of loyalty? I'm not sure, but I do know that she doesn't need to go about town looking like a bag lady! I called my new hair guy and got her a hair cut appointment last week, but I think she has cut the coloring out of her budget too, so I am now her very budget-friendly (free) colorist. And I love it! Fact is, I considered becoming a cosmetologist when I was young, but felt it wouldn't stimulate my intellectual cravings enough. That may or may not be true, but working with a bunch of women who consider missing a Prada shoe sale the end of the world, would not have suited my personality.

I dyed her roots, washed her hair in the kitchen sink with the sprayer; blew her hair dry, and styled it. She looked great! And even those no-fuss women appreciate feeling pretty once in awhile... so her smile was suitable pay for me.

My other good deed is for me. The stop counting thing. I was feeling more pressure to remember them and write them in a blog... which was taking away from the pleasure of doing them. So, I'll stick to my plan to become a better me, a better person... and just blog about life as life goes on; no matter how good or how bad it may be.

Good Deed #12: Hot Potato (s)

Being unemployed and freaked out financially for ten months makes the cliche, "Waste Not, Want Not" ring in your ears like a full-blast alarm clock on a hungover Monday morning. I grew up poor, and never quite reached "independently wealthy" status, so I am not a waster by nature; but finding ways to maximize everything I have, even though it isn't much, can be tricky!

I've had leftover "Ham Chunks" in my freezer since December 14th. Leftovers from my post-graduation dinner the night before. "Ham Chunks" is what I wrote on the freezer bag, and it pretty much summed up the contents. I trimmed that ham bone... well... to the bone! So here I had a bag of ham chunks, delicious ham chunks, begging me to find them a purpose, every time I opened my freezer door.

SCALLOPED POTATOS AND HAM!

Bingo! Ah-hah! Eureka! An excellent use for these meager, but edible chunks of ham. I fired up the internet to find a recipe, simply for guidance, because I am not one that will willingly follow a recipe. The tricky part was finding a simple one. Simple meaning: I have the ingredients.

I TRIED to follow the recipe. For a minute. But, measuring the potatos to exactly 4 cups wasn't okay with me. I had to use each potato entirely, as not to waste, so I exceeded the 4 cups. Exceeding the 4 cups of potatos, surely means you have to exceed the amounts of everything else, and since I was adding my coveted "ham chunks," and some finely diced sharp cheddar cheese to the recipe, I decided to double the amounts of the other ingredients. Yeah, I could have spent a half an hour perfecting the exact equation to replicate the recipe per my altered main ingredient... but in my opinion, that takes the art out of cooking! And who says the shmuck that wrote the recipe has the only solution to tasty scalloped potatos? If that were the case, why the hell does Rachel Ray, Martha Stewart, and that southern woman whats-her-face have their own cooking shows? Why do cookbooks have their own section in Barnes and Nobles?

Anyway... I cooked up my potatoes, ham chunks, and sharp cheddar cheese; and as the aroma filled my kitchen, then dining room, and finally, the living room, the longing to devour them grew ever more intense! I had to wait one very, very long hour, before my golden-browned, cheesy, baked ham chunks and potatos could be consumed. My brother happened to call just moments after I removed them from the oven, kindly distracting me long enough to let them cool.

I ate two small bowls of them. So very delicious. I had to share!

Mother had brought over a pan of lasagna on Wednesday to celebrate my new job, and I had eaten all but the three big portions I sent her home with, despite her attempted refusal. What a literally warm surprise it would be for her to have a heaping bowl of hot scalloped potatos and ham delivered to her recliner!

I had just begun watching "48 Hours," and when the first commercial break came along, I rushed out the door in my unzipped snow boots with my steaming bowl of potatos, and keys to mom's house in hand. This is one of the many little joys of living next door to my mother. I can deliver her a tasty meal, without missing a minute of my television program of choice. In fact, I even had enough time to compliment her on her haircut before I left.

Shortly after returning home, she sent me a text that read, "DELICIOUS!"

"And you can't even taste the poison, can ya?" I replied.

We have a potentially disturbing on-going joke that anything either of us fixes for the other is poisoned. The joke used to be an "out" in the event that the food wasn't very tasty, or someone (me) hadn't followed the recipe, putting the deliciousness of the food at risk right from the start. But changing times, require even jokes to change, and now I claim she is poisoning me to get her paws on my "wealth" in these troubled economic times. When I first suggested this, she immediately said, "But you don't have any life insurance."

"That was kinda creepy, mom."

The Cancerous Silence

Well... today's plan was to finish up the details at the remodel in the morning, and then head off for some ceramics studio time at 1 p.m. But as I was inbetween snooze alarms, I received a phone call from my mother... It's her day off, and she is not an early riser, so I was immediately concerned.

Apparently mother needed me to drive her to a doctor's appointment. Considering she rarely shares any personal or medical information with me, and I've been on her case to go, I was surprised, and even more concerned, that she felt she needed a driver. I asked her what was wrong.

"I have a headache." She replied.

Cut the crap, mom. She's a registered nurse. She wouldn't go to a doctor for a headache, but I wouldn't cross the invisible line she has drawn and ask her what was really going on. Another terrible dynamic in our mother/daughter relationship. For years, I have allowed her to keep everyone at arm's length... and that has to stop. My mom is theoretically young: 61. But, she has a terrible diet of Pepsi and fast food, she's overweight, and has a nearly lifelong history of high blood pressure. And...

She's had cancer.

I think any child of a cancer-stricken -and- survived parent lives with a nagging fear that it will come back. Every sniffle, every "headache," takes you back there. Back to the days when you cry when no one is looking, wondering how you could really make it through the "what if" that no one wants to talk about.

When my mom had cancer, I was in my early twenties. Just starting to figure out that bad shit happens, and that some times life isn't that fun. I used to say that if anything ever happened to my mom I'd be committed to a "loony bin." And I wasn't far off...

I couldn't share my fears with my mother; she had her own. I couldn't share them with family; she swore me to secrecy. I coudn't share them with my friends; that would be a burden, wouldn't it? So I carried this truly cancerous silence with me, and it ate away at my sanity; my soul.

At one point, I recall considering getting "knocked up" so that my mom could have a grandchild before, well, before you know. I think even God wouldn't have chosen that permanent bond between myself and my "boyfriend" at that time, so he secretly shut down the egg factory. I just knew that there were things that my mom must have wanted before she, you know, and I didn't want her to miss out on a thing.

So... since I didn't get pregnant, I got drunk. A lot. And by myself. I would go through my daily routine with a painted on smile, with my head held high, as if nothing were wrong... as if I had not a care in the world. My denial was scheduled. I was in denial daily, between the hours of 7 a.m. to 11 p.m. It was only during those late hours that I engaged in an internal battle of acknowlegment and fear. I found myself going to the bar alone, occassionally telling a stranger about my nagging fears, but never, never crying. I saved the crying for home. Part of me wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but the other part sought solace in pretending it wasn't happening. I never felt so alone, and if she, you know, I would have been even more alone.

Thankfully, mother pulled through, and so did I. But, she still has health issues that worry me. Today, the doctor told her that her blood pressure had become very high and that she has to take a medication immediately, and return tomorrow morning. That's not good. She could have a stroke... a heart attack. She could need to be hospitalized. And what she really needs to do, is get real about her life, and her health, and I need to get real with her, and tell her that if she won't do it for herself, that she should at least do it for me.

I grew up in a strange sort of silence. Love that was implied, but never spoken. Knowing my father existed, somewhere, but not daring to ask. Carrying my own fears, and questions, but never finding the courage to express them in words. Fearing that I would lose my mom, before she really understood what she meant, and means, to me.

Maybe this is her first step. Her first step towards acknowledging that at some point in our lives, the roles of child and parent become somewhat reversed, and that we, the children, are capable and willing to be caregivers. Her first step towards knowing that after a lifetime of sacrifice, she has earned the right to "interrupt my day." Perhaps the lines of communication, real communication, are being connected. Maybe on a trial basis, but alas, connected.