clickmom

smothered

I was starting to feel guilty about how I am still so very numb that I wasn't feeling like I missed Matt and Evan enough while they were at camp. The truth is that I have been enjoying the simplicity of only dealing with one kid at home. Last summer, when I was chomping at the bit to send the boys off because it had been a difficult year, I turned around by day 4 of their camp adventures and felt like I couldn't breath until all my chicks were back in my own nest. This summer, well, I don't really feel anything. Except I am kind of appreciative of the fact that they are around people who are not walking around in some kind of emotional daze.

But then today we hopped into the car to visit Matt today for his visiting day and by the time we reached the sleepy little town we drive through on our way in, I was shaking I was so anxious to see him. And then I had to fight back the tears. And I wold calm myself down. And then I'd tear up again. Until finally we got to his camp and because it was raining all the kids were waiting in their bunks but the camp asked us to check in and pick up some info packet first. And I could not wait another second so I left the husband to pick up the forms and ran all the way across the campus to get to Matt's bunk.

And then I gave him the biggest hug I could. And then I hugged him again. And because Matt is pretty much used to me being an emotional wreck, and is amazingly tolerant of my never ending melodramatic roller coaster ride he hugged me back. And he looked so good to me. (With the one exception of the total rat's nest of knotted hair on the back of his head that I managed to brush out using about 1/2 a bottle of detangler and taking a good 25 solid minutes to do so. You should know that the front of his hair was somewhat presentably brushed) And he was so relaxed and sweet. We took him to the movies, and out to lunch. The shopping for some new sunglasses. Matt didn't know that you couldn't carry your sunglasses around in your pants pocket. He knows now! And at the same time, I picked up the detangler and did the deed (brush out) in the mall parking lot so as not to embarrass Matt in front of his camp friends.

Speaking of camp friends, we were sitting with Matt right before we left and heard "MAaaatt!" and a girl ran over to Matt, who was seated at the time, and wrapped her arms around the top part of him, while pressing her bosom over his face. My baby boy's face was smothered in bosom. I was ... astonished. Uh .... Yup, astonished fits. Matt tells me they hang out sometimes and are just friends. I wonder if Matt is aware of the not entirely subtle hints that girls give to guys they "hang out" with. Hmmm.

pissiness

I got pissed today for the first time in two weeks. Wow, I can't believe it has been two weeks. Seems like way longer than that. Seems like forever and yesterday all at the same time. But the good thing is that I was pissed. I have kind of missed pissed. And really, indulging in the petty pissiness that I waded right through today means that I am no longer in shock, so recognizing this I just jumped right on in head first and I didn't hold back. But here is the problem, ahem, I may have dropped the F-bomb to one of the architects who is STILL (dragging his anal retentive ass) working on my house. Also, I may have sent an email to one of the other anal retentive as draggers which in essence said that he was too lazy to look up more than one extraordinarily over priced set of bathroom accessories and he should stop wasting my money. I believe I called the prices of what he picked out "obscene". But you know what? I was right. And you know what else? If I had to do it again, I'd do it meaner because that is what some certain people in the industry need to hear from a woman before they show a little respect. And also, it's how I know I am going to be just fine.

letting go

There are some things you can just never understand until you have been down that path for yourself. Being in love is one of those things. So is losing a baby, so is having a baby, having an addiction, being a survivor of any number of terrible things, and also, and now I know, so is losing your mom.

In the perfect world I would have a scrolling message board on my forehead which would right now read something along the lines of "Lost Mother. Fragile. Lost mother. Step lightly. Lost mother. Hug me." exhale.

sigh.

But I don't. The best I can do is hope that people talk about me so everyone kind of knows already and I don't have to actually say what happened because the words which tell what happened do not easily come out of my mouth.

When I took Evan with me to the chiro I asked Evan to tell the chiro while I used the bathroom just so I wouldn't have to hear myself say it either.

The closest thing you can get to that scrolling message board as a jew is this torn back ribbon you pin to your shirt. Some people wear it for the seven days of mourning we call shiva. But for some reason the rent-a-rabbi that did mom's service told us to wear it for 30 days. (I am thinking maybe he grew up orthodox. I'm too tired to look it up. You can if you want.)

So I was wearing the torn black ribbon on Day 9 when I took Josh to Massachusetts to a utopian friend's birthday party. And one of the other mom's who was hanging around asked me who was close to me who died and it turns out that she lost her mother a couple of years ago too. And I practically fell into her arms. And we talked all night. And I felt so instantly close to her because she knew exactly what I was feeling and thinking and she listened so well as I talked and talked and talked because some part of me is still trying so very desperately to make sense of all that happened and be okay with how she lived since her first surgery and how she died because she had to do something to fight the disease. And this other lady, having been where I am right now, had the patience and thoughtfulness to listen and listen and ask questions and be so very comforting and wonderful to me, a perfect stranger walking down that same devastating path.

I may have developed a girl crush on her.

But then right before she left, she asked us if we liked her new boobs. And having had already noticed (and also having silently filed that info away) that they were boobs of the totally fake variety, I got (surprisingly) all excited that her too big for her 0% body fat body new boobs were new and fake I yelled "Congratulations!" with more glee and sincerity than I could possibly type. It was like I had been called down to play Price Is Right or something. And then, feeling like I had met another soul mate on this planet, I immediately followed with a wide eyed "Did it hurt?"

And she sat back down so we could talk some more.

burning

At the funeral home they gave us shiva candles. Dad lit his candle when we got back to his house after the funeral, but the rabbi told us we should light ours when we got home. A shiva candle is a tall thin glass with a plain white candle in it. It burns for seven days.

Right now my candle is quietly burning away on my stove downstairs. Every time I walk through the kitchen I see it. It sits there gently flickering and steadily burning down. At first the candle made me feel kind of panicky. I thought it was burning too fast and wasn't going to last the seven days. But now I think the candle just burns faster in the beginning and slower towards the end. Then I thought about all of the poetical flickering life burning down/ wick/candle in the wind lyrics I could write.

I don't really know what to feel about the candle. It offers me no comfort. But it does have a very strong presence for something I don't have to feed or water or let out to pee. It doesn't make me feel less gypped. I worry about the house burning down.

I wonder if I am supposed to be magically healed when the candle goes out. Or maybe I am supposed to stand up and shake off this funk at the end of seven days. I could pretend that everything is ok once the candle goes out. I guess. I just don't know what it means. Maybe I want someone to tell me how to feel.

Things are not okay right now. Grandma is in the hospital. She had a skin tear on her leg that didn't heal and ended up today with a fever, an infected wound and it turns out cellulitis and a pretty serious blood clot in her leg which is preventing blood flow to that leg.

This leads me to think that maybe mom is calling grandma over to the other side, and I feel comfort in that thought because seeing mom again would be a very pleasant surprise for grandma. Also, my grandpa is over there, and so is grandma's brother and her first child who died at age 2 1/2. It sounds like a fun family reunion, no? When I came home from mom's funeral and ran over to the nursing home to see grandma and realized how very out of it grandma was, she had no idea how long I was gone for, I just saw that grandma wasn't really in grandma's shell anymore. And right now I do not feel sad when I think about maybe losing grandma, I feel at peace with it because I imagine grandma in a better place.

I had to call the scumcle and let him know what was happening today. I hadn't planned on talking to him so soon. He did not go to see grandma in the hospital because he said, he slept all afternoon. He said he couldn't sleep enough since the funeral and that sounds like depression to me. I hope he is depressed. I really do. He has a lot to be depressed about. He messed up his relationship with his sister, and everyone else on this side of the family. At least being depressed proves he is human.

not entirely gone

On Monday, once dad's daughters had gathered around, dad told us that mom's birds come to the back porch every evening and that we should listen for them. He said that every day at dusk mom really enjoyed watching and listening to the birds. And then he told us about the birds again. But no one really had the focus to go out side and wait for the birds. I don't remember if we noticed birds that evening. It's all a blur, but I am pretty sure no one even looked for mom's birds.

Mom used to tell us that if there was an afterlife she would find a way to communicate with us. And knowing mom's fierce determination we knew she would. So, on Tuesday when I ran over the grocery store for more tissues and bananas with my step sister, I stopped in my tracks when we walked out into the parking lot and saw this:

You can't really tell, but there were some serious heavenly rays coming from those clouds, and I thought to myself, "Hmmm... heavenly rays, mom in heaven, could it be?" and when I got back to the house, and lil sis told me that there had been a magnificent rainbow behind the house, I wondered even more. But then when lil sis told me that she had called my kids out to see the rainbow, I thought to myself, "I really do think this feels like mom." But deep down inside, I pleaded with mom to give me a sign that was just a little more definite, like a handwritten note or something else kind of unmistakable. And then I told lil sis that I had seen an exceptional sky from the grocery store and showed lil sis the picture. And she took my iphone into her hands and stared and stared until I screamed "What?!?!?" and lil whispered back "Is it me or do you see an opened mouth bird in those clouds?" Holy cow, ma!

Then on Wednesday we had the funeral, and afterwards dad's house was packed with all of mom and dad's friends. When it began to get late and the first batch of people decided to head out the sky opened up. So we sat there watching and waiting for the rain to stop. And then lil sis announces another rainbow.

And I run for my camera, because, wow, two rainbows in two days? And we go outside, and not only is there a rainbow but there is a rainbow that arches right over mom's back yard view and we can see both ends as crystal clear as day. And a crowd of mom's family and friends gathers to see this extra amazing rainbow. And 50 people are standing around gazing left and right at that beautiful arch, when a second rainbow appears right around the first rainbow. And it is amazing.

And I declare, that mom always did everything in a big way. And everyone laughs, because it is so true. Because seriously folks, if you saw mom's jewelry drawer you would know that one single rainbow would never do. I have never seen a double rainbow before. I am snapping pictures when lil sis asks me to look at the cloud forming just inside the inner rainbow and lo and behold the tiny little cloud balls are most definitely in the shape of a J. J is mom's first initial.

And now I think to myself, "OMG, I asked for a written note, I'd say her initials are written" So I begin to wonder what it looks like on the other side of the house. I manage to slip away from the crowd, and I head for the front door. Not a rainbow, but not too shabby, right?

And then on Friday, when I was sitting there thinking about how brilliant the sunsets had been all week, and I wondered if it was chance or mom, I happened to glance out the window and even on the plane on my way home from florida, I got the feeling that mom was not done entertaining us yet.

sighing

And I thought I was stress tired before! HA!

I am still walking around in a total disbelief induced haze. I tried to explain this feeling to Matt today and I told him how it's like I have a life map and the life map is everything that is true in my life and someone just snuck right in while my back was turned and I was feeling all safe and sound and that someone went and erased this right now part of my map. And now I am standing here and I am looking at my life map and there is a big empty blank part and I think that maybe I have to grab a pencil and get to work and start this damaged section over but I am just not sure how to do it or what to put in the empty spot. I'm frozen. And I can hardly think. So right now there is lots of nothingness on my map. Because my map was partially erased. And I am not sure what goes in the blank spot. And I don't know when it gets filled in again or even who's job it is to do that. I just don't know how to reconnect the dots.

sigh.

And Matt, my sweet baby Matt, is going to his sleep away camp tomorrow. And I'm not sure how that is going to be for me this year, since without the map and all I just kind of want to knit my kids into a big blanket and wrap them around my very tired shoulders while I sit here rocking back and forth trying to digest what happened and trying to figure out what the next move is. Letting matt go to camp is kind of like being the camper who accidentally falls asleep and lets the campfire go out. It seems like a really dismal prospect. For me. He's going to have a great time.

sigh again.

my life

Three of my parents woman friends took charge of taking care of our family for the past 5 days. They were unbelievable. The three little women would silently slide in and out of the house several times a day, laying out the many platters of food that were delivered all day long, and then turn up later to wrap and store everything for the following day. They brought in plastic cutlery, huge coffee urns, trash bags, and box after box of cookies. They made coffee, emptied the trash, laid out their own table clothes, wiped up spills, and cutest of all, they sent over their housekeepers to tidy up the house at the end of the day. I want to be like them. I am channeling their graciousness as I write this.

In true "this is my life fashion" the limo driver fell asleep behind the wheel on our way from the chapel to the cemetery. I'm not kidding you. He dozed off at a time when all of us in the car had fallen silent. I was in the third row, mindlessly staring out the front window trying to wrap my mind around the reality that in the hearse in front of us my mom was lying in a box. I was staring at the back of the hearse, when I realized that it was getting farther and farther in front of us. I sat up straight and saw that our driver had checked out. I started yelling "Poke him! Poke him!" to my step-BIL in the front seat, but he was frozen in fear. Then the limo started to drift to the left just as a big lawn service truck with a trailer full of mowers was passing us. Lil sis yells out "DUDE WAKE UP!!" and the lawn service guy lays on his horn and the driver regains his (awake status) composure and falls back into the funeral line. Can you even imagine how hard it was for us to get back into that limo with him after the burial? We were imagining the headlines in the next days paper "Six family members and limo driver perish on their way home from local lady's funeral" No thanks.

The scumcle did show up. I figured he would since he was in the country and it was convenient and all. Also, I was sure that there was something he had not stolen from someone yet and he probably wanted one more chance to scope out mom's house. There had been discussion of the scumcle and his antics before I managed to get to dad's side on monday and my very sweet cousin did thoughtfully conceal the two sculptures of grandma's that mom still has. In true scumcle fashion, he comes up to me at the well stocked buffet table a mere hour and half after after we get back to the house (as in my mother had not been in the ground for two hours yet) from the cemetery to ask me if I know where something he once gave to grandma is in mom's house. Yup. You knew it would go down like that right? I mean, who puts the scum-bag in scumcle? Mine does. Though truthfully, his cold as ice wife was following him during the whole ugly interaction and I am pretty sure I saw her holding the puppeteer strings, so in the end, I am still (and maybe I am just being incredibly stupid, but to imagine that my own flesh and blood could be so heartless is devastating) left wondering which half of that couple is so the idiot savant and exactly how the other member one figures into that kind of social deficiency. Maybe they are both socially inept. I dunno.

So this is how it went down. I am standing there surveying the dining room table, plate in hand staring at the abundance, wondering what, if anything, I will be able to keep down, (turns out I can keep an awful lot of corned beef down) when the scumcle glides in. First he expresses concern that somehow grandma is going to force out of him that mom has died. And he feels that he will not be able to lie to her. I tell him that grandma will not be asking about mom, since she can not remember mom and that he is not to under any circumstance bring up mom or her death because that would only serve to upset grandma. It's everything I can do not to slap his face, he is so stupid, because scumcle still won't admit that his mom is losing her marbles. Then one of mom's friends comes over to ask me a question and I tell her that I will be returning in a month to help dad clean out mom's closets. Scumcle hears the word closet and says "Speaking of closets, once I gave grandma a shawl, and I think she may have left it here..." And I cut him off.

Here is the background, scumcle gave grandma a cashmere shawl. A few years later grandma pulled the never used cashmere shawl out of her bureu and gives it to mom. Mom stashed the still unused cashmere shawl in her own closet. Then the whole scumcle stealing statue situation took place. Not long after the scumcle was going through grandma's drawers (as was his custom) when he realized that the cashmere shawl was gone. He wanted it back. He questioned the family and Mom said he could have it back if he gave me my statue. Mom has been hanging onto that shawl as a kind of collateral for the statue.

I said to the scumcle "I will not talk about that now" He persisted. I said "Do not talk about that now." he persisted. I said "Stop talking!" He went bla bla bla... I looked around, realized how much more horrible the day would be if I punched him (I could have pounded him right into mom's tile floor I just wanted him to stop talking) like I wanted to and I said "I am walking away, I will not talk to you" He followed me talking! I said "Go away from me, Do not talk to me" "Stop talking to me" and he followed me around the house talking about the fucking god damned shawl, which to tell you the truth internet, I did not even know or care where it was. I was trying to walk toward little sis who would have protected me, but she had at that exact moment hidden herself in dad's bathroom to do some bathroom business and had no idea what was going on. Luckily my cousin saw scumcle on my tail, grabbed my other cousin and my step sister to separate us and when I stepped out on the back porch he was not right behind me anymore. I am so deeply saddened and somewhat appalled by this. What could possibly be wrong with this man?

only thursday

Oh my goodness. I can not believe the wonderfulness of my parents friends. I am going home tomorrow humbled and in awe.

Dad is holding up pretty well. I am afraid of what happens when we leave. My (surprise!) step sister is staying until Sunday morning. Yup, another admission. I have two step sisters. They were both already out of the house when my parents got married so I never lived with them, so they didn't contribute to my current state of neurosis. (hahahhaha...just kidding)

Obviously I am over tired and getting giddy, also, lil sis and are are, well, let's just say that neither one of can drive a car right now.

Monday seems like a month ago. A very long month ago.

funeral today

Mom's funeral was today. When we met with the rabbi yesterday dad said that he wanted to say something during mom's service and he wanted lil and me to say something too.

It is unusual for such close family members to speak because it is such an emotional experience and family members can rarely hold it together. Dad wrote and wrote all evening long but in the end he decided that he couldn't go through with it. But he still wanted me and lil sis to say something.

Here is what I said (minus the parts that I ad-libbed and didn't write down)

I've spent so much of the last two days asking myself "How do I sum up mom? How do I quantify my mom?" and "Is there one property or one single story that embodies mom?"

And the answer is NO. Obviously. Mom was as multidimensional as every beautiful loving person in this room.

But, you know, I had ideas. I had several ideas. I thought about telling you about the time when I was 5 and my friend from the building was over, and we were sitting in the kitchen with mom and mom was just cracking us up. I don't remember what she was saying or doing but we were hysterical laughing. It was pure happiness.

I leaned back in my chair and thought to my 5 year old self "My mom is the funniest most fun mom in the world!" And what a wonderful warm feeling of tranquility came over me. We laughed with mom all the time, and I hope you did too.

I also thought how maybe I should remind all of you what a fighter mom was. Mom was tough. After all of her surgeries she fought her way right back to norma. Mom had carpal tunnel surgery in both hands, carotid artery surgery, back surgery and two major abdominal surgeries in the last two years. YET... you would never know it. Mom was unstoppable. Mom was a force to be reckoned with.

But I don't want to talk about that either.

What I want to tell you about is mom's advice to me when I was a young hormonal, sulking teenager.

One day mom confronted my abyssmal teenaged attitude. And this is what she told me.

Mom said "Last night I walked into a restaurant and every head turned to look at me. DO you know why?" And naturally being a teenager, I either didn't know or I had nothing nice to say, so I told mom NO and then mom said "I walk into a room like I own the place. I might not be the prettiest one there, or have the fanciest clothes, but I put my chin up and my shoulders back and I walk through a door like I am royalty."

And then I shut my teenaged mouth because I knew it was true.

So from now on when I think about mom I will choose to picture her dressed to the nines, (you know that is mom!) walking into the room, or the party or even the back yard, head held high and proud with all the confidence in the world, just like the happy, laughing, dynamic, warrior she was in real life.

Thank you.

tomorrow will be bad

Funeral is tomorrow. We dread it. We can't believe it is true.

We are very tired. We are drained. We have had little sleep. We have had much emotion. We are afraid of "taking something."

We are utterly and completely overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of our parent's friends and neighbors.

mom died

Mom died this morning. I thought we had a little more time.

Just a little bit.

I really wanted her to spend a couple of weeks with us in utopia this summer.

I wanted her to love it too.

I am so incredibly thankful that we went down to see her last week.

I am leaving for Florida for the funeral.

praying

I have been saying the serenity prayer a lot lately. It goes like this:

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

When I say it to myself I try to emphasize the accepting of the things that I cannot change part. That wisdom in the fourth line is crucial too. They pretty much go hand in hand. Serenity & wisdom, I am trying. Some days are easier than others.

Grandma is having increasing difficulty keeping up her end of a conversation. She can't remember the names of items (she called an umbrella a fan today) and she says things that come out of the blue and are totally out of context. Today she said something about "following the plan." I asked what plan and she got embarrassed and admitted she was confused.

I made my mom cry. I saw this guy who is dying of cancer on Oprah and he knew exactly how is gong to die and he had plans for every step of the way. I realized that mom and dad should have plans too. Then at least I (or we- whatever) can help them get the kind of end they want. So I called my mom and I tried to be gentle. Except my mom said she had placed all her eggs in the basket of her current chemo and wasn't thinking she was going anywhere soon. And I told her that this is the kind of thing she needs to plan now before she needs it (though in my mind not that far before she needs it) and she tried to say dad wouldn't talk about it and I told her to tell dad she had to do it to get me off of her back and she started to cry and told me that she knew she was in denial. No kidding. Then lil sis told me that I was too harsh with mom and it was only natural for her not to be wanting to go there.

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

sad tongue

Still feeling overwhelmed at the realization that I had mentally prepared myself for the worst when I went down to Florida to see my folks and instead of being pleasantly surprised by something or even anything, I pretty much experienced what I had prepared myself for. Even lil sis said to me our last night there that she didn't want to say it but that she didn't think mom was long for this world. I saw it too. I felt it too. It's like the life is just being drained right out of both my parents and they are just sticking their fingers in their ears and screaming LALALALALA and they keep prodding along, because that is what they do, do not let the neighbors know anything is wrong, except mom and dad are getting slower and slower and the distances are getting shorter and shorter. But they put on their best clothes, and slap on a brave smile and they keep pretending like it's not all that bad or scary or breathing down their necks. I dunno know how they do that.

Mom did do something completely out of character though. She thanked me for taking such good care of grandma and then she tearfully thanked me for bringing the kids down to see her.

Went to see grandma today and the news is not good. She seems to have made a big step towards losing her ability to assign the right words to what she means. It broke my heart. She didn't want me to see how frustrated she was getting. But I did. It would have been obvious to anyone. I wish there was something I could do. I look around at the people who are only shells of the people they used to be and I fear grandma is headed in that direction. One of the aides told me that grandma tries to punch her when she has to bath grandma each morning. Also, she said that grandma had slapped the hair dresser lady when she washed grandma's hair. If grandma keeps this up I am going to have to go to battle because I know the nursing home (that I love so much, the people are so gentle and kind there- please don't fuck this up grandma!) will want to sedate her and then she'll be one of those wheel chair recliner veggie people. So after a very nice visit, where I made grandma a photo album of all 6 of grandma's great grand children from our trip, I told grandma she had to be nice and she couldn't hit the aides and grandma was appalled that I would say she ever hit anyone and got mad at me and wouldn't kiss me goodbye because I waved my finger at her and told her "No hitting!" So I kissed her and left because I was late to pick up the kids and I didn't have the time or the energy or the emotional resources to get back on her good side and I figure she won't remember she is mad at me for more than 20 seconds.

When I went to get acupuncture tonight the needle guy after looking at my tongue and my pulses and my astrology charts and how thick my wallet is (kidding on those last two) said something was amiss and it could mean a couple of things one of which was that I was deeply sad. And I was like b-i-n-g-o look no farther.

vacation report from home sweet home

Here is the deal I mentioned with the rental vehicle.

Before I left the husband went on line to rent my rental car and he said "Hey about renting a Hummer!" and naturally Evan was right there over the husband's shoulder drooling all over the laptop and I had to say "Okay" because the offer was already on the table and I didn't want to be the party pooper. After a fine flight we made our way to the rental center, signed all the paper work and was told which spot our vehicle was in. WHen we first walked up to it I almost cried. Probably the only reason I did not cry was because the mammoth was parked in a spot that was clearly marked COMPACT CARS ONLY and I was distracted by the idiocy of that thought. But the truth is that I was afraid of the mammoth and it was way bigger than I ever imagined it would actually be and the sheer width and height of it makes my truck seem like a scooter. I was (this is the under exaggeration of the year) a wee bit reluctant and (scared outta my mind) nervous as I drove off of the lot, but the airport put us right onto the highway and the hotel was right off the highway and I remembered the hotel having valet parking, so I talked myself off of the ledge. I was just starting to relax a teeny tiny bit. My shoulders lowered from my ears and I took a full breath. And just as we were puttering along in the nice slow right lane a door (yes, a big old door!) flew out of the back of the pick up truck we were trailing and went about 25 feet in the air flipped top over bottom twice and came crashing back down sliding sideways across the highway. I yelled "FUCK!!" and almost slammed on my brakes thinking we would be driving right into the path of the door on it's way down, but the door was such dead weight (as opposed to the more typical flighty corrugated cardboard or lofty plastic grocery bag one is more likely to see floating around over the highway) that it fell straight down right behind the truck, and naturally, because I am such a safe (and frustrating to those with testosterone) driver, I had been driving with the recommended 6 car lengths between me and the carelessly loaded pick up truck and was still safely distant enough to avoid being decapitated by a flying door.

You might say I was happy as can be to arrive at our hotel in one piece.

Here are some photo highlights of the trip. The baby is my new nephlet, who is as sweet as an be and we all fought over who got to hold him all day long. So cute.

Never mind. The internet spirits are making me wait too long to post these photos, so I am going to bed. You'll have to settle for the story for now. Sorry!

1027 miles from home

I am in Florida. My dad looks pretty damn good. My mom looks ... Well. She looks pretty bad. I guess its a combination of bad hair done dumb, silly looking clothes, some kind of eye brow waxing disaster which resulted in the zipping off of skin. All on top of crappy health and intensive medical treatment. Pretty much I would say that mom no longer looks like the pampered princess the is but looks like she has has had a long hard existence that has taken its toll on her.

If I wasn't iPhone posting I would tellvyou about the vehicle we rented and the near death experience we had driving to the hotel.

I will fill you in as soon as I hey my hands on a real keyboard. Promise!

bad ass ride

It was hard for me to decide what I wanted to do today. I am really trying not to sink into a depression.

Maybe it's not a depression exactly, more like a I am completely overwhelmed and paralyzed from thinking about what the next year or two will bring. I secretly keep thinking that eventually I will be going to 3 funerals in a very short period of time. But maybe it won't be so soon, and I would hate to spend the next year holding my breath and not being as engaged as I could be if nothing horrible is going to happen "soon."

Right now I am walking around feeling like I can just obey orders. If someone asks me to be somewhere and do something at a certain time I can do it. But asking me to be as creative as coming up with my own thing to do feels impossible. We didn't have anything special planned for today (ahem husband) and I really wanted Matt to go to the gym. So I went to the gym with Matt. And it was completely weird to be next to him on the elliptical machine. Usually I tune out the whole room, but today he kept tapping me on the shoulder to share my water bottle. Which was fine, just weird.

Then we came home and showered and didn't know what to do for the rest of the day. So I thought and thought, and I had been secretly hoping for rain so we could go to the movies. That is always such an easy choice, but it wasn't rainy, and these days it is a bit of a challenge to find stuff to do that all ages of our family find agreeable, and then it hit me like a bolt of lightning. We took the kids to the near-by cheesy rinky dink amusement park.

And I got to watch my kids laugh and giggle for a couple of hours. Other than the not so proud 3 minutes of me laughing my hysterical hyena laugh of terror on the free fall ride, I had a lovely time watching my kids enjoying themselves. It was totally what I needed. Imagine the expression of pure heaven on Evan's face as he rammed his bumper car into strangers, or the tenderness of Matt as he rode the little kiddy roller coaster for Josh's sake, or the bittersweet (my baby is SO growing up) uttering of Josh, my baby, on that same kiddee roller coaster when just before the ride began he leaned in to Evan, who he was sharing his seat with and said "Evan, dude, this is going to be one bad ass ride. Am I right?"

Happy Mothers Day to all the mothers out there.

faker voice

I really hate that tomorrow is Mother's Day. I hate Mother's Day. Really want to climb into a cave and miss it.

My mother told me once that the biggest regret she had was that she didn't drop out of college to pursue a career with a big New York PR firm she had gotten a summer job with. She said she thought she would have preferred to have been a career person and lived an exciting life. Those are not comforting words coming from your stay at home mother.

It was at the moment (I was a teenager) those words left my mother's mouth that I knew in my heart that it wasn't that she merely appeared to have no interest in being my mother, but she actually truly did have no interest in being my mother. The cold hard truth was that business suits, high heels, and corporate lunches were things that I could not give her and apparently what she had always desired. Sometimes I wish that we could just stop pretending here, and part ways. Really, I do. Pretending is hard.

Boops, in an email to me, said that even the people who were never parented by their parents grieve when their parents die. I told her that was because they had to let go of the dream that their parents would one day wake up and value being a parent and the child they brought into the world and decide to step up to being a really good parent. My dream is a shriveled black char of fireplace dust right now. One good wind and it's gone forever. Which means that here I sit at 43 years old still tasting that spicy bitter after taste of not having the parents that I needed/wanted/deserved/try to be in my own personal parenting journey. Cancer is going to end that waste of time and energy dream away from me. And it will end it sooner rather than later. There will be much suffering before the end, I imagine, and I will stand tall and do the right thing, like I do, because I try to parent by example. But my heart won't be in it. Because there is no traffic coming the other way down that two way street. You can only love someone you believe loves you back. I live by that.

My kids birthday's are in February, March and April and on all of their birthdays this year I had to call my mother and pretend that it was her calling us and wanting to speak to the kids. In my animated FAKER VOICE I would say "Yes, mom the birthday boy is right here!" and give her an exaggerated moment to figure out which kid I was talking about before handing the kids the receiver. I am not about to get my kids excited about doing anything for her. She sucks. She sucked as my mother. She sucks as a daughter and she she sucks as a grandmother. She sucked when she healthy too, so the cancer doesn't account for anything. Except part of me simply cannot believe that even today as she might be sitting around wondering when her time will be up that she can't manage a phone call, a card, a little gift or anything. If I thought my time was coming to an end soon I would try to be a better person.

Next May when mother's day rolls around I hope to be thinking about me being a mother and not about the mothering I never got from mine.

Dearest Internet

Dearest Internet,

As my readers already know the health of much of my family is not so good. Both my mother and my father were diagnosed with different terminal forms of cancer last spring. While there is treatment to extend their lives, there is no cure for what they have and most likely, neither parent will be around for more than another couple of years. But you never know. And that really sucks too. My mother has peritoneal mesothelioma and my father has had a reoccurrence of prostate cancer that he had originally battled about 11 years ago. Except the first time Dad had prostate cancer they had caught it early and this time the cancer zipped right into his bones. So now he is stuck with the cancer. It can't be removed from his bones.

In the mean time, in January 2007, feeling like my grandmother was not getting the care she, then nearly 95 years of age, required living all alone in her studio apartment with 20ish year old aides to come and not really actually care for her but mostly sit in her teeny tiny apartment and just watch T.V. or talk on their cell phones, I moved grandma out to an assisted living facility near me. I decided that if grandma's kids (my mother and uncle) weren't going to give her what she needed to be taken care of then I would. And I could, so I did. And it was great for a while. We saw grandma all the time, she had dinner with family, and made friends at the assisted living. She really seemed happy for the first time in years. But then around the time grandma saw 96 creeping up on her, life got tough. Since last November grandma has been physically and mentally declining. There is nothing shocking or profound going on, just a slow decline that is not a surprise for her age. But still, the grandma I grew up with and adored isn't really with us anymore. And the grandma that I visit nearly every day is lost and upset. She knows she can not remember anything and tells me every time I visit that "something is not right" and when I question her about it she tells me that she can not remember a thing. And it is true. She isn't even sure what her own name is anymore. And I don't know how that feels to have an empty memory, but I imagine it is disquieting to say the least. Also, she has suffered with the prolapsed rectum, the bone infection and eventual amputation of her toe, and now she is still in a wheelchair. She is weak. I am not sure she is ever going to really walk around again.

So what I am asking of you Dear Internet, is some advice. I am hoping that you, and the people you know, and maybe your friends, co-workers or relatives have some experience dealing with a situation like mine. Or maybe you have cancer or had cancer and can tell me what the people around you did right and wrong. Lot's of people live and die from cancer. And lots of people die of old age. I know I am not original here.

Except this my first time around with three ends looming in the not so distant future. At the end, when it's all over and my family is gone, I just want to be able to say I have no regrets. I want to do the right thing. I want to say the right thing, and I want to be the best daughter/granddaughter during this unpleasant journey that I can be. So please, Internet, send me your stories. Tell me I am not alone and that you know what I am going through. But most of all tell me what you did. Because I do not know what to do. You can leave me a comment for everyone to read or you can email me. I just want to hear about your experience, what you did right, mistakes you might regret, any thoughts you have. Anything you have to offer will be helpful and appreciated. Really.

Thanks in advance.
Clickmom

relief

lilsis: Did you get your stitches out? I called to see if you got your stitches out?

me: They're out! I'm so happy. I am tender, it hurt so much, she had to like, really dig a couple out, I didn't want to cry, I tried not to, but I kinda cried....

lilsis: Listen, I cried when I got the stitches out of my finger so I can just imagine down there.

THEY"RE OUT!! Big sigh of relief, and it WAS those stitches that were causing all the pain. Aaaahhhhh.

life sucks today I want a refund

Grandma came through her amputation like a champ. I believe she knew what was going on and that her increased confusion of the last few days is her way of withdrawing. She hasn't spoken really, only whispered. Except she whispered "Not my foot" right before they wheeled her away, because I think she is imagining herself helpless after the little toe amputation. I was the only one who heard her say that and man, if somethign had gone worng during that surgery I 'm not sure how I would have lived with the guilt, but she came through cause she is one tough old bird. The really good news is that when the doctor made the cut there was bleeding from that area, which means blood supply, which means healing, which means less chance of post surgical complications. Pray for my nine toed grandma. I am hoping that she'll have maybe 4 or 5 more days in the hospital and then can go to rehab, baby.

Mom had her first dialysis and it wasn't as bad as she was anticipating. Except she is convinced that now she can never leave Florida again. And also she needed several naps the day after instead of feeling invigorated. I have no idea. I just hope it works.

On to me and my sore (new word thanks to Boops) yoni. Basically, it hurts like a mother fucker. I had myself a good long cry this morning when I removed the pressure bandage and looked into the mirror. I was prepared for the scar line and the stitches that will no doubt leave little scar dots along the scar line, but I was not prepared for the big dent in what used to be my symmetrical nether regions. Now I am deformed and scarred, and I took that kind of hard. Now I'll never have a career as a strip dancer. My dreams are crushed. The stitches are pulling and pinching and poking. I can't stand perfectly straight and sitting is worse. The only way to stand is with my right leg bent like I am about to step on something in a most lady like fashion. The only way to sit is with my butt all slid forward in the seat and practically hanging off the seat so that I am neither straight nor bent. Driving hurts and so does passengering. I have to walk with my knees pressed together. My back is killing me now too.

I spent the last couple of hours at the wake of Kitten's father in law.

So, pretty much today sucked and if lil sis had not had come down to be with me during grandma's surgery and had she not kept sending me funny/mean girl text messages when the scumcle showed up and went and sat between us in the waiting room, then it might have been more than I could handle, but lil sis came through and her humor and charm made the day much more tolerable. Also, I still haven't shown you guys a photo of the disposable underwear they tried to make me wear yesterday so I do have something else to look forward to.

despotted part deux

So, me and THE SPOT have now officially parted ways. Young doctor, looks like I could be his mother/oh doctor what nice bulging biceps you have, took it all (cross for your fingers) and now I am stitched up and SPOTless and hopefully cancerless.

When the phone nurse from the dermatologist said they wouldn't prescribe the one single pill for me to take before the surgery I decided (completely convinced myself) that the only way I was going to get through such a surgery was going to be with the power of my own music, which these days is on my do and be everything iphone. Naturally there are NO CELL PHONE signs up all over the place, but I completely disregarded these because if they wouldn't dope me up, I neeeeeded my own muzak. Also I thought everyone I knew knew where I was going to be this morning. And didn't think anyone would call. That was kind of dumb. You know, after the fact. 20/20 and all.

So, Nurse Ratchet leads me and my iphone (which I didn't take off even to talk to her) to a tiny little closet where she tells me I have to remove everything I have on (including the carefully chosen sweater and wool socks which were supposed to keep me nice and cozy during the DESPOTTING) and replace it all with a hospital gown, disposable undergarment, paper booties, and a big 'ol blue hair snood just so young doctor hottie could have no possible aesthetic reason (like my last bastion of youth, my pretty shiny hair) to go easy on me. Anyway, Ratchet left me in the closet with the paper replacement clothes and as soon as I make myself look like Carol Burnett doing the janitor skit, I quickly dash off a panicked text message to the husband who is hopefully sitting there somewhat worried and concerned in the waiting room and then my iphone starts ringing and it's one of grandma's doctors. So I answer, and as soon as I answer the door slides open and Ratchet glares at me all casual and papery and chatting on the phone but I show her the name of grandma's hospital on the caller ID and say I HAVE TO take this call. It is obvious that I am speaking to a doctor about my elderly hospitalized grandmother, so I don't feel all that bad. Until I am lying flat on the table half way through the surgery singing along in my head to the Commodores when the iphone suddenly buzzes not once but twice. A dear friend called me and then she called me again. Ooops. I didn't take the calls, but still, doctor too young to be a doc hottie was hovering over my special parts with an exacto blade. Not the guy I want to irritate at that exact moment, you know?

You'll enjoy the closeted text exchange husband and I engaged in (rest assured that is all we will be "engaging" in for quite some time)

me: Miss me yet?

him: What are you doing?

me: About to get undressed

him: It's much better out here. The Price Is Right is on.

me: Now I am extra sad.

him: What do you think luggage and nose spray cost?

I always wanted a demonstrative guy. It's amazing how he puts those feelings into words, no? He's a real poet. It's a big part of the attraction.

Just like 40 minutes later when we arrived safely yet sorely home and I was getting out of his car and I asked him to reach into the back seat for my purse. I told him I thought the tape that Ratchet had (WARNING: POSSIBILITY OF T.M.I. AHEAD) taped down my "pressure bandage" with tape that went right down to the petals of the flower were tugging on me. And what I might have said was something about "tape tugging my twat" and he asked me if I could repeat that only with a lisp next time. If that's not love, well, then.....

Anyway, first surgery of the week down, grandma loses her toe tomorrow. I am going to request that all family members keep this week down to mere two surgeries. Hopefully they will oblige, but never say never. It's been a long spring, summer, fall and winter, and I don't see any light at the end of the tunnel yet. For now I am just focused on breathing. Well, that and the least painful way to get this damned tape off my girlie bits

cruisin' in the lame lane

It's sweet Josh's birthday today and I am too emotionally depleted to write about such a ray of light as my Joshie right now. I want to tell his birth story because I want to get it down in words but I also want to be alert while writing it. So I am taking a rain check on it. Look for it here soon.

No news on the fate of grandma/sybil's bone infected toe, the infectious disease specialist has to conference with the vascular expert and then they will get back to me on their reccommendation. It's hard to tell if the super strength intravenous antibiotics are working since grandma/sybil doesn't even know her foot has been hurting for more than today. Growing old is scary people! Eat more bacon!

Speaking of grandma/sybil, she didn't want to wake up this morning when I chose to visit and when I tried to wake her up by telling her that the one who loved her was present her head did a 180, she spewed green liquid and screamed "You're a f**king liar! You are all f**king liars!" When she woke up on her own and for real and said in her normal sweet little old lady voice "What are you doing here?" (Despite the two hours of abuse I had just with stood trying to wake her up every half hour) I told her what she said to me when I tried to wake her and she laughed herself silly over it. Hahaha. Hilarious sybil.

Mom had surgery today to enable herself to be on dialysis from now on. (Bad kidneys!!) She came through fine and the good news is that even though the surgery is a two part process they decided to do the whole thing in one step. They are thinking that maybe mom can have her first dialysis on Friday and I am hoping that makes her feel much better.

They called from the dermatologist's to confirm my genital mutilation surgery for Monday. I bought some nice soft sweatpants, some boy shorts underwear for a non irritating post surgery undergarment experience and have been binging for about 5 days now in the sheer terror anticipation of the big day. I wonder who I can bribe to actually give me a general. Or at least some really good drugs to take 30 minutes before and for 30 days afterwards. I am scared shitless about being awake for this people. I think I might really make a call for some kind of pill. Except the truth is that I am so anti-pill that I wouldn't even know what to ask for.

Today I am wondering this: What do my kids think (Do my kids even think?) when I laugh at all the pot jokes we hear on the stand up comedy channel?

blogiversary

I started this blog 3 years ago after an unsettling assignment I did for the paper. Go check out my very first post. so, happy three years to me. Back then I had to cover the funeral of an 18 year old. His story was as tragic as a super nice everybody's friend kid every body loved 18 year old dying of some previously undetected heart defect coud be. And he was an only child. Even worse.

I had just read about mommy bloggers (but I don't we were called that yet) in a NY Times article. Needing an outlet for what I had just experienced at the funeral I fished out the article to figure out what to do/how to do it and started my blog. At the time I thought this funeral was the beginning of more and more sad heart breaking stories for me and I wanted an outlet to write about my life as a full time mom and part time photojournalist. Which is pretty funny if you ever see my paper because besides a whole lot of high school sports it's all pretty much babies and kittens for me to photograph. So my idea of this blog being an outlet for me as a working mom went by the way side and the blog just became my outlet for every day life. I mention work occasionally, but honesty, I love my job, my real editor is like a second mother/friend to me, (no comment on the sports editor who keeps sending me to cancelled games) and the only funeral I shot after that boy's one was an unremarkable older guy that just didn't bother me.

Tonight however, I shot the first meeting of the group that is organizing a local Relay For Life event here. In case you don't know it is a fund raiser for the American Cancer Society. I kept thinking about my parents. I was fine for a while, shooting photos and thinking that people were there mostly in support of old people who had cancer, but as I shot the people and asked them their names and some background for the photo caption I have to submit with my photo, I realized that most of the people there were in fact survivors. And they all looked like they could be me. Or at least they looked like they could be sititng in the next SUV in the pick up line at any of my kids school's. And then I remembered that I still have that procedure scheduled for the 25th.

Now I am not sure where I fit in in this world. Obviously I am a supporter of my parents. But am I a survivor? Or will I be a survivor? It seems like an exageration to say "me too" to cancer. I mean, one more small procedure and I assume I am going to be just fine. No hospital stay, no seriously long and painful recovery, no dreadful chemo, no hair loss. Just a slice and a boo boo and the only after effect of this for me is going to be obsessive mirror looking. Because I am always going to be worried and looking. So even though I had to run out of there crying when the middle school kid started telling about her mother's fight with cancer, I am not sure if I am just the daughter of people with cancer or if I could possibly be or if I really am one of them.

cat devil burglar

When I lived in Manhattan with the husband (pre-kids) we had this adorable (code for really small, mouse infested with low ceilings) garden apartment. Our garden neighbor had an uncharacteristically vicious pug (No, seriously, this pug would chew your pinky toe off in a heart beat! Folks were afraid to wear sandals in the hallway!) who went all psycho through a crack in our fence every (freaking minute of every freaking day) time our dog was in our back yard. Someone once mentioned that tylenol was toxic to dogs so the running shared fantasy in our house was tossing tylenol laced steaks to the pug next door in order to get a good night's sleep. Oh stop, we didn't do it!

So, back to the present, on that fateful day when the chiro told me that the vials indicated cancer of THE SPOT he also tested out some of the supplements he hawks to us believers as a side gig. He declared one such over priced immune boosting supplement would help me in this battle and I figured I was good for a bottle. You know, I figured I'd take a bottle for the cause (which I suspect is a vehicular upgrade for the chiro, but you know, I adore his magic hands, so whatever) Now these excellent supplements that are somehow every allergen free yet are also food based which means that in retrospect it was stupid for me to leave the bottle (cap on and all but still) of supplementation out on the kitchen table where a four legged devil could potentially jump up and thieve them away in the night. Which is exactly what happened, except it happened in the day, but the night has so much more drama to it, no?

So, sometime after the crime occurred I am in the front entry of my home and I spy a chewed up medicine looking bottle on the floor and for a second I'm thinking that maybe, oh maybe, someone with four legs got a big old bottle of tylenol, and she's been pissing me off lately and my first thought was not to do anything, but then my big old conscience set in and I pried the chewed up bottle apart to see what it contained back when no one had chewed the label off of it yet only find 4 of the really expensive chiro cancer fighting vitamins left in the bottom of the bottle. I almost gave the devil a tylenol enhanced steak right there on the spot, but instead (also because I didn't have a steak handy) I just glared at her a lot (and maybe once I tried to get her with the twisted up towel, locker room style, but Evan thought I was aiming at him and made a big to do over it so I stopped) and the devil knows what that stare down means coming from the one who dispenses sustenance so she wisely kept her distance.

I figured the devil wasn't going to die or anything so I did nothing about the vitamins. Then I crated her up for the night and went upstairs to hopefully have a decent night's sleep since the husband is at a conference and I have the whole bed to my blissful non snoring, non bed hogging, non blanket grabbing self. Oh joy! But you know what happens when clickmom fantasizes about a good night's sleep right? I ignored her caged cries when she started whining at midnight and I ignored her again around 4, but when she heard me tip toeing to the bathroom at 6 I knew her cries were serious. I came down stairs and let her out. She dashed to the backyard and proceeded to squat and squat and squat in the first available (and squat) open patch of (squat) green for a good (squat) 15 minutes. And if you happened to hear someone yelling between 6:01 and 6:15 this morning it may or may not have been me shouting "And I hope it burns too! Bwah ha ha ha!"

Don't worry about the devil's feelings she paid us back all morning with farts that made our eyes water from 3 rooms away.

Colin Powell, moles and grandma

Spent a chunk of time today emailing Peanut (she's baaaack) and Bubbles, so I feel like I have done my writing for the day, therefore in a fit of autoplagarism I have cut and pasted what I would just regurgitate and polish up for you guys into today's post.

The one thing I didn't mention to Bubbles and Peanut is that Evan is doing a project on Colin Powell for Black History month and Evan's teacher says COE-lin POW-well and I am considering choking Evan if he doesn't start to say it my (normal person) way. I do not have control issues.

My biopsy came back-
I have dysplastic moles with atypical cells.

I have to have a surgery to completely remove them on 2/25 and won't be able to exercise for two weeks after. Really Bubbles, I do not like this challenge. And while I will certainly, to the best of my ability, deal with this additional bad news I'd like the forces that be to know that I am officially requesting and end to this challenge. Feel free to mention this in your church. Any way the message gets through is fine with me. I don't care to find out just how much I can handle. I am satisfied with my ability to handle as much as has already been dumped on my plate. Portion control right? So, I am good with this amount. Done!

I'm fine.
I'll be fine.
I'm not fine yet.
The biopsy was bad, I knew it would be.
There were atypical cells present in my dysplastic (not the kind you want to have) mole so I am going in the 25th for a little surgery to have the entire mole removed. yeah, ouch.

If they get the whole mole I should be fine. At least once it heals. But I can assure you I will be doing some mighty thorough skin checks for the rest of my life.

Really it is the unfortunate location aspect of this that is making it much worse than it should be. That and now I have this doomed feeling that I can't shake. Like all this testing my higher power has been putting me through isn't finished yet. Seriously, I feel like if we aren't given more than we can handle and I am managing to handle all this then there is more to come. Maybe I should just give in to a little nervous breakdown. Then the rest of this testing of my personal strength can get cancelled.

Grandma's birthday was nice, despite that she fell on Saturday and had a less than lovely black eye and split lip for the party. I was very civil to the scumcle. You would have been proud. So many of the old folks came over to wish her a happy birthday. It was really touching. Especially since grandma isn't very friendly.

But she sat there with a big smile on her face basking in all the great grand kids and tons of old folks came in to wish her happy birthday and have a slice of cake. So all in all it was mostly nice and just a little bit sad.

It's getting to be that I am the only one she really recognizes anymore. She hardly knows my sister and can't even fathom she has her own kids and is suppressing some serious anger towards my uncle and mother. Getting really really old isn't such a bargain either.

And the best thing is that my folks are not here right now. Thank goodness. I wouldn't want to deal with them right now. Truthfully, they would most likely dismiss my feelings and that would be hurtful. They are of the "Pain is only real if I am feeling it" philosophy. I haven't even said anything to them yet. Not sure I am going to.

negativity

I have been actively trying to pursue a denial reaction while avoiding thinking about THE SPOT. Clearly this has been my (pre-determined and genetically programmed/familial) M.O. from before the beginning when I did no pre-dermatologist appointment SPOT area grooming. I had practically convinced myself that the derm would take one glance at THE SPOT and brush it off, just like she does for every other spot I go running in to show her. Surprise on me!

So, the healing process has been less than ideal/comfortable due to THE SPOT's precarious location in the place where everything comes (rubs) together- including undergarments and sanitary napkins. Needless to say, it's been a trying week (even with out the dental hell aspect) and my mental health/psychological reserve hit 0 about a day and a half ago. Today I tool care of some early morning business, crawled into bed until some afternoon business, picked the kids up from school and am now counting the minutes until I can crawl back into bed. Cheers!

In the mean time I got it into my head that THE SPOT wasn't healing fast enough and that maybe it was infected and when I went back to the chiro for more post dentist jaw realigning today I asked him to see if I tested positive for any bacteria floating around in that area. I hadn't told him about THE SPOT previously and filled him in on it's existence and it's removal. Chiro did his kinesiology voo doo magic testing on me and THE SPOT. I sat there (emotionless) as he tested his vials and then his remedies. It was pretty clear that there was one vial that was showing up as "positive" and once one remedy was indicating it would strengthen me I asked if the vial was bacteria and he told me it was cancer. Tears began to roll down my cheeks, but I tried to keep it together since Evan (aka" the big over reacting to every pain and twinge faker) was in the room getting all of his quirky fakingness tested after mine, and I didn't want him to see me freaking out.

The chiro however did see me almost losing my cool and then, he who (has testicles and therefore can not handle the sight of my big emotional girlie "feelings ahoy!" tears) lives by the power of the vial said "The biopsy could come back negative you have to wait and see." which I thought was just great and now I like totally want all my money back for years of living by the vial if I'm going to think that way! So, I don't really know what to think. Except I do deep down inside think the biopsy will come back positive for cancer. But I am a well known worrier. And I am a part time hypochondriac, that is, when I take a break from my own personal style of denial. Obviously I do have to wait for the more definitive actual biopsy to come back to say cancer or no cancer and also what stage before I can (exhale/really freak out) decide what my next move is going to be.

It's going to be a loooooong mother fucking week. Even longer now thanks to the vile vial.

Also, because cancer alone isn't enough to hold me under, the scumcle called and, fool that I am, I answered the phone without consulting the caller ID. He wanted to know if I was planning anything for grandma on Sunday, her birthday, and really, I couldn't lie, so I told him. And now he thinks he should show up during her "party." Now me and my emotionally fragile self have to deal with him and his cold bitch wife during my waiting period before I get the biopsy results. Not what I need, not what I need at all. I've got your forecast: It's raining shit here.

Walking with knees pressed together

Today I pulled into the dermatologist parking lot to find not one but two hard to find parking spots available. Yay, right? One spot was partially blocked by a rude mal-parked honda odyssey driver who parked over the line dividing his space from the next space. I slid into the clearly defined other spot thinking I would more than likely find an empty partial spot next to my truck when I returned if the odyssey was still there. But I was wrong. I sat in the car for a moment because I had arrived un-fashionably early when some chick pulls in right next to me and makes a mad dash for the building. I open my door and realize that not even a slender three year old could make it out of that door crack, let alone me, and I call to the lady and say "Hey, I assume you don't want me to slam my door into your car! Am I right? Cause you parked in my spot and now I can not get out!" So she dashed back, got into her car and drove away. The I went in for my appointment and crossed my fingers for either an empty space or a mini cooper .

I sat in the dermatologist's office waiting room getting more and more nervous as I watched the people all walking through the out door with their heavily bandaged noses, chins, and foreheads. Finally, a torturous (mostly because Rachael Ray was on the waiting room television and no matter where I sat in the waiting room, I could still hear her) 20 minutes later, they called me, brought me into a room, and gave me a paper mini vest to put on (opening to the rear) and a bigger flat sheet of paper to lay across my lap. Yeah, nice. Right out of the "How to completely annoy a fat chick" handbook. I took one look at the paper mini vest, which didn't even come down to my waist, stripped my nice warm real clothes off, papered myself up and put my down coat back on. It was undeniably freezing in there. And when the dermatologist came in she laughed when she saw me half papered half down coat covered and turned off the AC. (Yes, it's in the 30's today and she had the AC blowing) She said something about her last patient being in menopause. Hahaha. I don't care.

Anyways, to make a long (gruesome) story short, I should have suffered through the brazilian and will not be taking spin class this week. Dermatologist said she couldn't tell for sure, it had all the markers of a melanoma, and it was either nothing or something I caught very early. Biopsy results will be back in about 2 weeks. Ouch.

When I got to my truck I discovered an astro van, and not the hoped for mini cooper, beside my truck. The astro van, while still in my parking spot, left me slightly more room than the odyssey. I figured I could crawl over the passenger seat, but then I remembered what had happened in the dermatologist office and instead opted for chancing the astro's door (would they really notice another dent?) while I (not carefully for the van at all) but carefully not to move my nether regions any more than absolutely necessary stepped into my truck and slowly lowered myself into my seat.

Home again, home again jiggety jig.

this and that

I'm thinking of starting a new category here. I'm going to call it "Is it just me or..??" Like this: Is it just me or are people going absolutely crazy on the highways lately. What is with all the passing on the right? Do cops not catch you speeding if you are on the right? Do you get there faster if you pass on the right? Can we call a truce on the passing on the right? It is really getting on my nerves.

Today a lady hopped onto the eliptical machine right to the one I was exercising on. The first thing I noticed was her carefully sculpted teased crown of hair all up in a pony tail. She must really hate the natural shape of her head to tease up the top of her head before tying on a pony tail and going to the gym. Now I wonder if maybe she isn't deformed on the top of her head. Maybe she has a big crater head she is trying to hide. Also, there was much makeup in use on the hair teased eliptical lady at the gym today. And perfume. So, the lady with the crater head, the bad skin and the B.O. (I assume) hopped onto the machine next to mine and if you think I can tell you any more about what she looked like you are wrong. I imagine if I saw her coming out of the shower it would be quite the frightful sight. But I couldn't stick around, her perfume was making me ill.

I had an interesting chat with Bubbles about my weight today. I have decided that I eat like someone who should be 30 pounds over weight. Not 30 x 4 pounds over weight. I am going to have my thyroid tested. The symptoms fit. And as Bubbles so cheerfully reminded me, I am over 40! Woo Hoo!

You won't believe this tid-bit folks. My parents went home. They went home Friday and I didn't mention it because I am still processing it. They have made more medically sound decisions in their lives. Hopefully mom won't go into kidney failure while down there. It's a possibility. Mostly I am angry. Every one pretended like this would be a good thing because I would get a break. Now my worry has just been multiplied by about 17 (hundred). It is nice to fall asleep without the downstairs tv shaking my windows though. I still have not been alone in the house, but I never give up hope. There is always tomorrow!

Grandma won't do anything any more. She wants to die. I have been calling the one surgeon who might be able to do this out dated procedure that might not even work, but can not get through to him. Seems he doesn't spend much time in the office. Grandma has taken to throwing her pills at the nurses. They are used to that but my eyebrows are raised. Very interesting. She says she wants to die. I don't blame her.

This corner of the garden state is buried under a layer of ice. Evan wanted to slide around on a patch of ice this afternoon. I told him it wasn't a good idea, I did not approve, it wasn't safe and not to come crying to me if he got hurt. He got hurt. He cried for 4 1/2 hours right up until the moment I put him to bed. Men.

Tomorrow is Josh's school "holiday" (Christmas) concert. I might have to medicate not to die from his unadulterated enthusiasm and overall adorableness. He wanted to wear a black turtle neck for some reason. I'll take photos.

gazing

One day while discussing my folks with wildmom, wildmom asked in that just checking way "Your folks are close right?" I said they were and she added "I mean like CREEPY close right?" I laughed and told her that that was exactly what they are.

Dad got more good news. He took another PSA test and his levels fell again. Upon hearing this good news Dad kept off the couch and yelled out what he had just heard. Mom ran over to dad and they hugged and kissed. They both seemed so incredibly happy. I couldn't help wondering what was going through mom's mind, because I imagine that if I were in her place there would be a little ice cold part of my heart that was wondering why you were getting a break and everything was so painstakingly hard for me. But we all know I have big heart of ice anyway.

This morning I knew the two of them were awake when the scumcle called. I went onto the room and they were lying in bed facing each other with their hands propped up because their fingers were intertwined as they gazed into each other's eyes. All me and my stone cold heart could think was " Wow, mom can stare him right in the face and he doesn't even have his teeth in yet."

NaBloItOutYourEarCancer!!

Dad went to the doctors yesterday to see if his cancer was responding to the oral chemo he has been taking. It's the one possibility that showed the most promise yet only had a 50/50 chance of working for him, and the answer is YES! What a great way to end an emotionally draining 2 weeks. In between laughing at any thought that I might have known what stress was during the first 42 years of my life I have decided to nap. Right now I'm crawling back to the couch.

deal or not deal

We left the house at 6:50 this morning and drove east. I spent the day at the hospital waiting for mom to have her minor surgical procedure. It was strange being in the same waiting room that I sat in last July when she had first real "get the cancer out" surgery. That last time lil sis was there and so was dad. Today it was just me. Lil sis is only a week and a half postpartum so she had a legit excuse, but dad was a disappointment. As tough as it is to be around him and his spewing misinformation some times, just having another family member would have been a big comfort. Dad was on the fence about going but last night we all went to bed thinking he was going to make the early morning off we go to have some more surgery trek. Then this morning when mom woke dad up he mumbled something about an upset stomach and went right back to sleep. I think mom deserves better than that, but honestly, the two of them do have a long history of dealing with things by not at all dealing with them and dad is surely freaking about mom being so incredibly sick and he dealt with it by, well, not dealing with it.

Mom pulled through surgery like a regular healthy person. That was great. They were a little delayed, but once mom's team got the OR they had her in there and took care of her and she was ready to go home precisely when they thought she would be ready. I managed to use the surgery/post op time to do more than just cope with food (which I naturally got out of the way thoroughly and immediately) but I took care of things with the OFH and the rehab/night of the living dead graveyard with several phone calls that surely had most of the surgical waiting room wondering how many less than healthy relatives can one person care for at one time, and tomorrow once wildmom and I finish up at the spa (yes folks, you heard me right, we are getting ourselves some well deserved R & R including some cranial sacral therapy for me which I am praying real hard will fix my neck/shoulder/numb arm issue once and for all) I can head over to the zombie spook show rehab and honestly, without sneaking past the nurses or hiding behind the linen cart spring grandma and take her back to the OFH where I don't have to try to slip her in the side door either.

I even impressed myself on the phone with these people today. I thought, "Damn, I'd give me what I was asking for!" I'm that good. And much to the doubting husband's relief, I did not have to resort to threats of life long lasting law suits by my lawyer husband or mention my pull at the local papers versus their need for free publicity or how I live across the street from the mayor or how tight I am with the town's ex-fire chief (and how I know how often the geezers start microwave oven fires in their rooms attempting to dry their laundry) and how all the cops think I am so great cause I get them in the paper or any of those things. I just kept pretty much telling them that there was nothing wrong with grandma, she was sent to the hospital unnecessarily and did not have a heart attack, is as capable as she was last monday when the overzealous nurse called 911 and no one was suggesting she needed any rehab back then, but I am a big fan of rehab so they can go ahead and give her some now and how as her responsible party I had to take into account her emotional well being, which is what I am doing by removing her from the rehab where grandma is very unhappy and her roommate now screams "Help me! Someone! Help me!" in her shriveled up old lady shrill death toll voice all day long every day except when she is moaning, and that I intended to bring grandma back to the OFH tomorrow so what would they like me to do and who would they like me to call to get the ball rolling, I'll be bringing her home around 1. The end. We all hung up on the same page, the page that says grandma is going back to the OFH and will not be returning to the rehab, like ever, or as long as she has a single functioning brain cell. But that is something for me, the one who deals with stuff to deal with in the future.

****I learned this trick from a ke-razy (in an interesting and eccentric kind of way) Japanese woman I used to work for. This woman would not take NO for an answer, and made me do her bidding for her, and I learned (because she made me call back and call back and call back until I got what she wanted) to be persistent until the other person folds. Works like a charm. Just never give up, keep repeating what it is that you want. I use that technique, or a slightly more diplomatic form of that technique, very effectively all the time. If I close my eyes I can still hear Ke-razy Kazuko screeching into the phone receiver in her office and then laughing as she got off the phone victorious and proud. She'd stand her doorway, throw her head back and tell me "That is the way the deal is done." Thanks Kazuko!****

The director of the OFH insisted that the nursing director (who shall now be referred to as Natasha, aptly named after the tall dark haired heavily accented villain in the Rocky and Bullwinkle Show) would have to go to see grandma and "evaluate" her. I went along with it, reinforcing that I was bringing grandma back tomorrow and not a day later. I also expressed concern that grandma being mostly deaf even with her hearing aids, was not going to understand a thing (quick talking! heavily accented!) Natasha said. Sure enough when I brought mom home after her surgery and showed up at the rehab Natasha and grandma were sitting in a common area looking like two long lost and reunited pals. I chatted briefly with the Natasha and when she left grandma leaned in to me and shouted "What the hell was that?!? I couldn't understand a word she said!" Told ya so.

So, mom is over another hurdle, hopefully she has a fully functioning port now, she has one more dose of chemo and 4 doses of interferon to get through and grandma is hours away from freedom and I am going to get my (morning) moment of peace, and next week we'll find out if the oral chemo dad has been taking looks like it is going to work for him. Cross your fingers, say a prayer. I guess we will all deal (or not deal-depending) with that result in our own way.