I got a call from my Dad yesterday evening that both shocked and, yet, did not surprise me at all. How is that even possible? I’m telling you…it is. In his long, drawn out preamble to what it was he wanted to tell me, my mind took me to all of the worst possible places and I was already crafting responses. Turns out my mind was right on track. After he made me promise not to tell a soul, and I did so with crossed fingers, he told me that his wife, my step-mother for 21 years, loving Grandma to my kids, has Cancer. Colon cancer.
After I admitted that I didn’t even know what to say, he told me that the reason he was confiding in me was because I was just through this with my Mom and I would know what to do…the questions to ask. Yeah, I know the burning question on my mind…Why? For most of my Mom’s heartbreaking battle, we refrained from asking that "W" question. Looking back, I think it had much to do with the fact that my Mom rarely did. She always said, “It is what it is,” and she dealt with it as best as she could getting treatment and living her life. I wasn’t so strong yesterday and while I never spoke it, I thought I really wanted an answer.
My response at being asked to be my Dad’s confidante was…”Dad, I know nothing about colon cancer.” Nice. Way to throw a leaky inner tube to a man whose lungs are filling with freezing water and then cut the twine. I immediately felt so selfish and ashamed, but also so sad and scared. You see this isn’t about my Mom and it isn’t about me, but it is hard for me to admit that.
Then I started asking the obligatory questions. Details about the diagnosis and the treatment plan, which are both in the early stages and hopefully the cancer is too. For heaven’s sake, they just got home from the hospital. She went straight to bed exhausted, I am sure, from the shrapnel that has ripped holes in her life, and my Dad was making a meatloaf, just comfort food for any other cold, rainy day. Life goes on. Right? Please, someone tell me how?
I spent the rest of the night stuck in a somber, sulking state. I was a tight rope walker balancing on the narrow life line between the dark abyss and stoic strength unable to cry and unable to scream. When this emotional paralysis strikes me, I want to shut out every one and live as a secluded island as we all know no man is.
On my way to work this morning, I started to thaw. Coming back to life hurts. It stings as the feeling returns and our shaken nerves alert every inch of the body to brace for what is in store. I knew I couldn’t do Christian music (too fragile) or talk radio (too angry), so I just cried in silence.
After I calmed down and did a little research on the Web at only reputable sites, I called my Dad. We talked for a good, long while and we had a good, long talk.
This is particularly hard on my Dad because he doesn’t trust hospitals and he has little respect for doctors. I did ask him to put those feelings aside and to just accept that surgeons are difficult and will never give them the time of day that they feel they need and/or deserve. Now having written that, I realize that there most definitely are exceptions to my hard and fast rule, but my Dad is someone who sees the world in only two colors: dark black and stark white. Here’s the thing, my Dad was receptive and I actually think genuinely appreciative of my advice and that may be a first. I feel the weight and responsibility of that seismic shift and I am not absolutely certain how I feel about it. I’m scared to see my Dad scared. But it’s not about me. My Dad is scared and he needs my support and he will have it no matter how difficult it is for me to tread on hostile territory and expose recent wounds still raw, festering and fleshy. I know how scared my Dad is when he talks about keeping life as normal as possible. And I also know that we do what we have to do because it is what it is, but we do not do it alone!
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Home on the Range
I am enjoying a rare hour at home alone with nothing to do in the middle of the afternoon. I left work early to attend my son's spring concert...ironic that the freezing rain we are experiencing is supposed to turn into snow before long. Spring has not yet sprung here! The program's farm theme was cute, the kids cuter and of course, my son the cutest. It explains why he has been wearing a bandanna around the clock - even to bed and once to church - he was getting in character. I'm not sure that he even knew I was there and I am so not one of those parents that is going to scream and yell and make a scene to be seen. Never mind that I couldn't have gotten up if I wanted to because the woman who wedged in beside me took up half my chair and then pinned me in the other half. As much as it annoyed me when she got up mid program to leave because her child's part of the performance was over, it was a relief to be able to breathe. I shouldn't fault her...by the time the third graders were done, the gym was more than half empty. It bugs me because it doesn't show much respect for the performers or the teachers. Knowing that my son will be on stage later in the show, doesn't make it right for me to come in the middle of the program. Now having written that, I do understand that calendars are often difficult to clear and circumstances beyond our control often dictate where we will be when, but I think a mass exodus is simply proof of the egocentric way in which so many live their lives.
It hit me when I got in my car that my Mom would have been the one next to me beamimg with pride. It made feel so sad..so alone, and I said a quick prayer that my son did see me waving to him from the crowd and know that he was not alone.
And on that note, I am going to sign off here and enjoy this precious time I have to myself. Being alone appeals to me right now.
It hit me when I got in my car that my Mom would have been the one next to me beamimg with pride. It made feel so sad..so alone, and I said a quick prayer that my son did see me waving to him from the crowd and know that he was not alone.
And on that note, I am going to sign off here and enjoy this precious time I have to myself. Being alone appeals to me right now.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Fat Tuesday
Yesterday was Fat Tuesday and I had a very indulgent, most festive night out with the girls. We feasted on escargot and sopped almost all of the buttery garlic up with the loaves of warm bread brought one after the other to our table. We washed that down with a couple bottles of good wine and then had a pizza with the works. There were laughs, toasts, tears and more laughs. It was just what I needed and then some.
When I set out for the night, I had it in my mind that I would make a detour to the tattoo parlor. The same shop where I got my second tattoo nearly ten years ago. That night was a girl's night too. It was my oldest (as in known and loved the longest) friend's bachelorette party and she is just not the type to tolerate the often tawdry antics of the "typical" bachelorette party so we got tattoos instead. Makes sense...wouldn't you agree? We all went under the needle...all of us including her aunt and even my Mom. I couldn't believe the bride-to-be actually did it because it was so against her constitution. I think she regretted her sweet little shamrock the next day, and by Monday morning I am quite sure she was ready to have it surgically removed...that is after her aunt blasted it over the local air waves. She tattooed and then told during her radio show for all to hear...and who happened to be listening, but her sister -the very conservative, good Catholic girl, disapproving mother-of-the-bride.
But I digress. Last night I drove by the quaint tattoo parlor only to find the little mall boarded up and abandoned. When did that happen? I was disappointed - not because I was hoping for another tattoo. No, I was excited to get my ears pierced. Can you tell that I live dangerously? You see I had my ears pierced when I was a tween. Then my mother paid to have them surgically sewn shut when I was in college after I came home for a weekend visit with more than just a new boyfriend and dirty laundry. I was sporting a cleft ear and that is another story. She was sure that I would never get married in such a state. So yes, I have had plastic surgery...on my ear lobes.
Before my mother passed away, she gave me permission- or more like strict orders- to get my ears pierced again. She was finally over the $3,000 senseless surgery bill and she wanted me to be able to enjoy a beautiful pair of earrings she planned to leave me. So when I spotted a new tattoo parlor down the road, I knew it was a sign. I frantically tried to call my friend to come back and hold my hand, but she didn't answer. I thought - I can do this alone, and then I realized that I was any thing but alone. My Mom was right there with me.
The kid behind the counter who was half my age and had every inch of his body covered in tattoos, thought I needed directions. He actually thought I was lost! I probably would have given him a heart attack if I confessed that I have two "tats" (that's what they call them) of my own. When I told him that I wanted to get my ears pierced, he looked at me like I was even too conservative for that conventional rite of passage.
I took my seat in the waiting room, which was lined with old pews and felt like I was watching an episode of Miami Ink while in church. Apparently, only one artist has the ability to pierce ears...it is an art lost to more provocative personal parts. Ahem. I got a tad bit nervous when I saw his ear lobes. They were very tribal and I'll leave it at that. I chuckled thinking this is what my Mother feared when I came home with two lobes dangling from one ear...now it's fashionable and people pay for it! Another sign?
The whole painless process took five minutes. I left there feeling empowered, close to my Mom, and close to God. That is a good place to be at the onset of this Lenten season. I should be able to wear my Mom's bling maybe by Easter and certainly by Mother's Day. Either occasion strikes me as symbolic and seems rather fitting.
When I set out for the night, I had it in my mind that I would make a detour to the tattoo parlor. The same shop where I got my second tattoo nearly ten years ago. That night was a girl's night too. It was my oldest (as in known and loved the longest) friend's bachelorette party and she is just not the type to tolerate the often tawdry antics of the "typical" bachelorette party so we got tattoos instead. Makes sense...wouldn't you agree? We all went under the needle...all of us including her aunt and even my Mom. I couldn't believe the bride-to-be actually did it because it was so against her constitution. I think she regretted her sweet little shamrock the next day, and by Monday morning I am quite sure she was ready to have it surgically removed...that is after her aunt blasted it over the local air waves. She tattooed and then told during her radio show for all to hear...and who happened to be listening, but her sister -the very conservative, good Catholic girl, disapproving mother-of-the-bride.
But I digress. Last night I drove by the quaint tattoo parlor only to find the little mall boarded up and abandoned. When did that happen? I was disappointed - not because I was hoping for another tattoo. No, I was excited to get my ears pierced. Can you tell that I live dangerously? You see I had my ears pierced when I was a tween. Then my mother paid to have them surgically sewn shut when I was in college after I came home for a weekend visit with more than just a new boyfriend and dirty laundry. I was sporting a cleft ear and that is another story. She was sure that I would never get married in such a state. So yes, I have had plastic surgery...on my ear lobes.
Before my mother passed away, she gave me permission- or more like strict orders- to get my ears pierced again. She was finally over the $3,000 senseless surgery bill and she wanted me to be able to enjoy a beautiful pair of earrings she planned to leave me. So when I spotted a new tattoo parlor down the road, I knew it was a sign. I frantically tried to call my friend to come back and hold my hand, but she didn't answer. I thought - I can do this alone, and then I realized that I was any thing but alone. My Mom was right there with me.
The kid behind the counter who was half my age and had every inch of his body covered in tattoos, thought I needed directions. He actually thought I was lost! I probably would have given him a heart attack if I confessed that I have two "tats" (that's what they call them) of my own. When I told him that I wanted to get my ears pierced, he looked at me like I was even too conservative for that conventional rite of passage.
I took my seat in the waiting room, which was lined with old pews and felt like I was watching an episode of Miami Ink while in church. Apparently, only one artist has the ability to pierce ears...it is an art lost to more provocative personal parts. Ahem. I got a tad bit nervous when I saw his ear lobes. They were very tribal and I'll leave it at that. I chuckled thinking this is what my Mother feared when I came home with two lobes dangling from one ear...now it's fashionable and people pay for it! Another sign?
The whole painless process took five minutes. I left there feeling empowered, close to my Mom, and close to God. That is a good place to be at the onset of this Lenten season. I should be able to wear my Mom's bling maybe by Easter and certainly by Mother's Day. Either occasion strikes me as symbolic and seems rather fitting.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Not Me! Monday
I absolutely did not leave my daughter at day care an extra hour so I could watch Oprah's After Oscar show this afternoon uninterrupted because a) I am so over Oprah b) I am way over Hollywood and c) I am a much better mother than that! That being said, I am not at all glad that Slum Dog (the little Indy film) took away 8 Oscars. Go Bollywood!
When I realized that the stock market is at its lowest levels since 1997, I did not start researching non-socialist foreign countries to move to...no, not me!
I did not sit in the bleachers at my son's basketball game yesterday and spend as much time watching the other cell phone frenzied parents as the kids who deserved my attention and then make a mental note to self: do not succumb to laissez faire parenting lest children grow into obnoxious adults!
It is not true that I washed a single pair of shorts so that my son would not have to play his last game minus his "lucky red shorts." Incidentally, they won!
I did not make an appointment with my hair stylist for my son because I would never try to subvert his hippy/bohemian style...I just like to see his gorgeous eyes and know that K. will help us meet in the middle.
There is no way that I served my kids the exact same meal as they had last night because there is no way that my kids are THE MOST uninspiring people to cook for.
It is not possible that when I called my husband on my way to work this morning (because it is so not true that I pick up the phone the minute I am alone in my car) and I got a "this number has been disconnected" that I didn't immediately call his cell phone because you know the economy is stabilizing and I do not know way too many people who have lost jobs.
I am not letting my kids have a sundae with the works for dessert the last couple nights because they are not giving up ice cream for Lent starting Wednesday.
It is not true that I spent some time while my kids were at Sunday school yesterday trying to master certain Wii Fit games.
When I realized that the stock market is at its lowest levels since 1997, I did not start researching non-socialist foreign countries to move to...no, not me!
I did not sit in the bleachers at my son's basketball game yesterday and spend as much time watching the other cell phone frenzied parents as the kids who deserved my attention and then make a mental note to self: do not succumb to laissez faire parenting lest children grow into obnoxious adults!
It is not true that I washed a single pair of shorts so that my son would not have to play his last game minus his "lucky red shorts." Incidentally, they won!
I did not make an appointment with my hair stylist for my son because I would never try to subvert his hippy/bohemian style...I just like to see his gorgeous eyes and know that K. will help us meet in the middle.
There is no way that I served my kids the exact same meal as they had last night because there is no way that my kids are THE MOST uninspiring people to cook for.
It is not possible that when I called my husband on my way to work this morning (because it is so not true that I pick up the phone the minute I am alone in my car) and I got a "this number has been disconnected" that I didn't immediately call his cell phone because you know the economy is stabilizing and I do not know way too many people who have lost jobs.
I am not letting my kids have a sundae with the works for dessert the last couple nights because they are not giving up ice cream for Lent starting Wednesday.
It is not true that I spent some time while my kids were at Sunday school yesterday trying to master certain Wii Fit games.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Happy Friday...or not.
In my profile, I mention that blogging will be a "rewarding" way to explore my voice, but I have to admit that it is really different. At this point almost no one (soul sister, husband and Wayne - thanks Wayne for the first and only comment) has even read a thing I have written, and yet I feel like I am so very exposed, so vulnerable. That is mostly attributable to the fact that when I write in my journals, I am uncensored and raw. Let's face it...the grittier the better, but I am tentative at best to go there here. People that know me, know that I am not always (if ever) a glass is half full person, yet that is what I hear in my head when I'm writing here. Protect, sugar coat, make nice.
The truth of the matter is that I had a really terrible week. I have been fighting a nasty cold, feeling like I want to curl up and watch way too much trash t.v., missing my Mom something awful and I am beyond sick and tired of Washington and Hollywood. I can hardly believe that I used to throw Oscar parties and try to see as many of the nominated movies as possible. I did not see a single nominee this year. I cannot believe that I actually got the "Biggest Libber" award in college and was active in grass roots activism on campus because today I want to pack my bags and leave the US of A! Today I am swimming in a literal sea of cynicism.
But on the advice of my good friend who made me second guess what I am doing here this week when we had blogging 101 after dinner at my house, I am going to end on a positive note. Every Friday I journal about the things, people, experiences for which I am grateful. She suggested that I post that here. I may be a cynic at times, but I don't always want to be. I am a work in progress...a multi -faceted diamond in the rough and today my thankful list is shorter than usual, but it sure ain't empty!
The truth of the matter is that I had a really terrible week. I have been fighting a nasty cold, feeling like I want to curl up and watch way too much trash t.v., missing my Mom something awful and I am beyond sick and tired of Washington and Hollywood. I can hardly believe that I used to throw Oscar parties and try to see as many of the nominated movies as possible. I did not see a single nominee this year. I cannot believe that I actually got the "Biggest Libber" award in college and was active in grass roots activism on campus because today I want to pack my bags and leave the US of A! Today I am swimming in a literal sea of cynicism.
But on the advice of my good friend who made me second guess what I am doing here this week when we had blogging 101 after dinner at my house, I am going to end on a positive note. Every Friday I journal about the things, people, experiences for which I am grateful. She suggested that I post that here. I may be a cynic at times, but I don't always want to be. I am a work in progress...a multi -faceted diamond in the rough and today my thankful list is shorter than usual, but it sure ain't empty!
- A gift certificate from my valentine for another of Auriel's amazing massages and a quart of chocolate cherry kiss ice cream.
- We have a winter weather advisory. We had so much snow in December and very little since. My daughter wants to make a snow man and now it looks like we will be able to this weekend. Let it snow!
- Playlists. I made numerous in the past week. L-O-V-E them, now if Blogger would just let me post them.
- I logged 15 miles this week and I hope to get to the gym tomorrow. I cannot imagine how toxic I would be this week without exercise.
- A date with my girl this week. We went to see Coraline. She looked so hilarious in the 3-D glasses...they were so big on her little face that they wouldn't stay on. She reminded me of my Mom in her infamous Jackie O. sunglasses.
- My boy took a shovel to the basketball court the other day so he could play some hoops before the bus came. I am thrilled by his love of the game (note the game changes with each season).
- Dinner with J. the other night...it was just the girls as the boys went to the basketball game. It is always time well spent, although I did have a headache yesterday.
- Said headache prompted my hubby to let me spend the night on the couch while he made dinner, showered the kids and put them to bed. That was better than chocoate cherry kiss ice cream!
- Real Housewives of NYC...I could run on the dreadmill forever if they would have a continuous feed.
- I used my brand new Kitchen Aid mixer for the first time and it was A-W-E-S-O-M-E! I added both ground flax and oat bran to my family's favorite banana bread and they loved it even more. It must have been the mixer. Had to be!
- I called my Dad today and we had a really nice, really long conversation. I love my Dad. He is the salt of my earth.
- My in laws are enjoying New Zealand for a month. When they come back it will be nice (or nicer) here too.
- I do actually feel happier, more grateful, lighter after writing this list! There is power in positive thinking.
Monday, February 16, 2009
"Not Me!" Monday
I did not buy a cookbook as a gift and then proceed to read it from cover to cover and try out several recipes before wrapping it.
I did not arrive home after a massage that went longer than I thought and find my daughter and her bus driver standing on the porch waiting for me.
I did not fib about the weight of my clothes when I was creating my Mii for Wii Fit this week. And I most certainly DID NOT have so much fun playing Wii Fit that I forgot to make Sunday dinner and my kids had to have hot dogs and clementines.
I did not eat almost my whole foot long sub today since I simply did not have dinner last night or breakfast this morning.
I did not get so preoccupied baking (remember the Ina cookbook) today, that I once again forgot to put the turkey breast in the oven so my kids are eating fish sticks with a side of sauteed spinach.
I did not let my daughter watch another episode of SpongeBob so I could take a nap this afternoon.
I did not get my kids all excited about having off for President's Day today only to hear from a friend that they did, in fact, have school.
I did not run 20 miles last week after not running for a long time so that now my calves are so sore that I'm not sure I can even walk this week.
I did not turn off the news the other night because this stimulus package is giving me severe heart palpitations.
I did not walk through my mud room the other day and tear off a piece of wallpaper just so now I have no choice but to tackle the project.
I did not cry when Jamar Rogers was told that he is not one of the 36 contestants for Idol's season 8. Then the next day, I most certainly did not find one of the songs he sang (Hey, Delilah) on YouTube and listen to it like a dozen times.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_m-BjrxmgI
I did not arrive home after a massage that went longer than I thought and find my daughter and her bus driver standing on the porch waiting for me.
I did not fib about the weight of my clothes when I was creating my Mii for Wii Fit this week. And I most certainly DID NOT have so much fun playing Wii Fit that I forgot to make Sunday dinner and my kids had to have hot dogs and clementines.
I did not eat almost my whole foot long sub today since I simply did not have dinner last night or breakfast this morning.
I did not get so preoccupied baking (remember the Ina cookbook) today, that I once again forgot to put the turkey breast in the oven so my kids are eating fish sticks with a side of sauteed spinach.
I did not let my daughter watch another episode of SpongeBob so I could take a nap this afternoon.
I did not get my kids all excited about having off for President's Day today only to hear from a friend that they did, in fact, have school.
I did not run 20 miles last week after not running for a long time so that now my calves are so sore that I'm not sure I can even walk this week.
I did not turn off the news the other night because this stimulus package is giving me severe heart palpitations.
I did not walk through my mud room the other day and tear off a piece of wallpaper just so now I have no choice but to tackle the project.
I did not cry when Jamar Rogers was told that he is not one of the 36 contestants for Idol's season 8. Then the next day, I most certainly did not find one of the songs he sang (Hey, Delilah) on YouTube and listen to it like a dozen times.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_m-BjrxmgI
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