A day of struggles, and a random act of kindness...

I have had an incredibly emotional few days. It all started with that stupid stinking shirt last night. This morning, I woke up with plans to get a ton of stuff done before work. Including the laundry that I cried too hard to do last night. The reality of it was, though, I stayed in bed most of the morning, feeling sorry for myself and crying. I finally got up the courage to go visit my mom. It's May Day...I had to take her flowers. And I walked into the room, and there was my dad, my rock, laying in bed just holding her while she slept. Why does that man make me cry so much? We ended up having a really nice visit, and I managed to keep the tears at bay for most of it. I was late getting to work. I didn't care. And when I walked in, my GM asked me, with the sweetest eyes..."how is your mom?" And I lost it. Right then and there. Like a two year old with a stubbed toe. And I cried it out, and I began to feel better. Until the next person asked me. Then I started all over again. This is how most of my night went. After work, I knew I just needed to go somewhere and get my mind off of things for a little bit. Luckily, I work next to an Applebees, and they have fish bowl drinks. Much to my surprise, someone I met recently, offered to meet me there and keep my company. I accepted. And for the next 2 hours, I left everything outside. For the next 2 hours, I laughed, and told stories about my mom without crying...for the first time since her diagnosis. For the next 2 hours, I completely forgot that I was hurting. Someone I don't even really know, realized that this was exactly what I needed. A stranger, of sorts, realized that this was what needed to be done for me. Recognized this need before even I did. Tonight I am actually laying down to bed, with a clear head and a warm heart. Tonight I am happy, because I got to remember all that is good in my life, and what it is like to laugh. I miss laughing.

Stupid shirt anyway....

A shirt. A stupid ass shirt that I bought a few weeks ago, and finally wore. And now it's dirty and needs to be washed. Except that it is black and white stripes. The instructions say to "wash with like colors". Um, what? It's half white, and half black. And I stood there. Confused. Completely confused. So I grabbed the phone to call my mom and ask, and it occurred to me that I couldn't. I couldn't because my mom has cancer, and she is in the hospital. I hate cancer. And so this stupid shirt is the reason that I lost every single ounce of tears that had hidden in my body since the last breakdown. a stupid shirt

Le yawn...

I had a whole lot of activity crammed into my weekend. I don't know if I am on emotional overload, or what tonight, but I can't sleep....more so than usual. Tonight I'm thinking about my mom, and all the things that I wish that I could do with her again. But the truth is, she will probably never have the strength to do any of that again. Tonight my heart hurts. Tonight I want to tell my 10 year old self to make more of an effort to enjoy every single moment with my mom....because it WILL come to an end someday. Tonight I want to lay my head on her lap, and just watch television together. Tonight I want to be 22 years old, standing in her bathroom as I was preparing for a flight, alone, to California, and she was showing me how to properly apply eye-liner. Tonight I want to be sitting at her kitchen table, doing our 60 second "poem challenges". Tonight I want to look out the window, and see her ever content, plucking away at her flower garden. Tonight I have regrets. Tonight, I want to relive all of my yesterdays.

Call me old fashion if you must, but at least you'd be calling me...

I live in a world of social media...and I hate it. It has become an excuse for people to not have to reach out when someone is in need. Its created cold friendships. The last year has been a whirlwind of changes and I am struggling with them. Things are progressing in positive ways, and I am smart enough to see that some very positive things have happened in my life. But with that has come some very cold realization. I haven't lived on my own since I was 18, and even that was only for a brief moment. Its been a huge adjustment. Everyone talked and commented on how proud they were of me, and how eager they were to see the new place...and how they were excited to visit. I've been here three months I've had 4 visitors....2 of them traveled over 2 hours to see me. I've extended multiple invitations. There is always a reason....needless to say, I've given up even asking. I feel like a pathetic person begging for someone to play with. Last February I had surgery, after being rushed to the hospital. There were complications that lead to a much more complex procedure, and longer hospital stay, than anticipated. Other than my parents, I had exactly one visitor. One. During the following weeks that I was so bidden that I was crawling to the bathroom, I had no offers of help....or even just company. Last October was my birthday. My phone rang twice. My step dad was the first, calling me first thing that morning(see why I love this man so much. HE picks up the phone, because he knows that it matters.) Everyone else did their birthday wishing on Facebook. I bought my own dinner that night, I went to bed realizing that even some of my very closest family just posted via Facebook...not bothering to call. It was a bad day. I have a lot going on in my life right now that is really bringing me down. Work sucks. Personal life sucks. My relationship with my kids sucks because my work and personal life suck. My romantic life, or lack thereof, sucks. And despite ALL of that, I've tried to remain positive, and start each and everyday on a positive note. And its backfired. The past 3 days has been incredibly hard. I've spent most of them crying, feeling defeated, let down, and alone. My phone has rung exactly once. My mom. My mom who has lung cancer and can hardly speak. My mom who gets exhausted from the shortest of conversations. My mom who is on vacation. I was at work and couldn't answer. But still she left a voicemail letting me know that she was concerned and just wanted to chat. One call.

Untitled. On Purpose.

And I went to him, so out of breath from crying that the words could hardly escape my lips. I felt as though a thousand pounds was currently resting on my eyelids, pushing them closed atop the gallons of tears streaming from them...and down my face. I just needed someone to let me cry. And he responded by telling me that I was selfish. That he had had a long day at work, and I was simply using my mothers diagnosis to try and get sympathy from him. And he couldn't have been further from the truth. And despite all of the months of affairs, and lies and meanness.... It was this one action that made me realize that this was never going to last. It was at that moment that I realized that I had loved this man far more than he ever deserved to be loved by me. By anyone. It was at that moment that I realized that out of the two people in this room...I was the 50% that wasn't selfish. I don't want to be anything more than someone else's "happy". I want to have someone who understands that sometimes a woman just has an emotion and she needs to cry it out. Not because she needs sympathy, but simply because her heart is hurting. It wasn't for sympathy. Maybe I was just testing you to see if you were worthy of my love. You weren't.

Oh, there you are.....

Tonight was laundry night.  Nothing exciting.  My mom was scheduled to have her 3rd chemo treatment today.  I was really nervous, as the last time she ended up in the hospital for a week.  I tried to call her after work, but didn't get an answer.

So as I was folding clothes, my phone rang.  The caller id said it was my moms house.  Expecting it to be my step-dad, calling to give me a chemo update, I answered with my usual "hey-low".  My moms voice, on the other end, replied with "what are you doing?"  Even as I typed that, I could hear my moms voice in my head.  I lost my breath for a moment.

Back in January, my mom started losing her voice.  It was her first "outside" symptom.  The first one I noticed.  You don't realize how comforting someones voice is, until it isn't there.  I've blogged before about how I would give anything to hear her voice just one more time.  You can read that entry here: You will never get it...

I've been thinking a lot lately, about things my mom has said to me over the years, that I would give my right arm to hear again, in her voice.  Her calling me "toots".  Her saying orange, only pronouncing it "oinge".  Her saying "Hi, this is Jackie.  Greg and I aren't home right now.  If you want to leave a message....do it now".

And today, when she said "what are you doing?", I got a little glimpse of that.  I know she needs to rest.  I know she hasn't had a voice in a LONG time, and it probably exhausted her to speak even a little, so I couldn't bring myself to ask her to say all of the things I wanted to hear her say just one more time.  But you can be assured, I DID tell her to hurry up and re-record that answering machine greeting!


And just as a quick treatment update, they didn't do chemo today.  They instead chose to drain the fluid out of her lung.  She said they got about 2 mason jars full of fluid out.  Unfortunately, the woman that did it was NOT very nice, and caused my mom a LOT of pain.  But the rest of her day went very well, and she sounded AMAZING!

Mom, if you happen to be reading this, I'm serious....fix the damn answering machine!

You will never get it...

My brother, Cameron, and I, have had several conversations over the past few months about our moms cancer diagnosis.  We've come to the conclusion that, to be quite frank, it just fucking pisses us off.  We seem to be stuck in the "anger" stage of this diagnosis, and I guess that is sort of a mixed blessing.  Yes, it makes us lash out at innocent people, but it also keeps us from walking around in tears all day.  Now we are only in tears half of the day.

We don't know how much time we will get to have with mom.  Will it be 8 months, 2 years, 5 years?  We just don't know.  But the truth of it is, even if it were 60 more years, it wouldn't be enough.  We are selfish.  We want our mom to be there for our phone calls every day for the rest of our lives.  And she won't be.  And that is a sad reality of not just this diagnosis, but with aging in general.

And then there is the anger over words from those just trying to be supportive.  I've been on the other end of this situation, when someone I care about has a loved one diagnosed.  I know that you just don't know what to say.  And that is where it becomes very important to choose your words very carefully.  I've gotten everything from "My dad had that same exact diagnosis.  Dead in 6 months.  Get ready now" to "I know exactly what you are going through".

I'm not even going to touch the first one. She doesn't deserve anymore room in this blog than she has already taken.  The second one, that is a touchy one.  Because, to be honest, you don't.  Ok, your mom was diagnosed with cancer.  I get that, and I am SO sorry that you had to experience that.  But...YOUR mom wasn't MY mom!  YOUR relationship with YOUR mom wasn't anything like MY relationship with MY mom.  Yes, you hurt.  I hurt.  Many people have been hurt by a cancer diagnosis.  But you really don't understand. Just like I won't ever understand just what it was that you went through. Please, just don't say this to us anymore, because, while we know you mean well, it just makes us more sad, more angry, and it makes us feel more alone in all of this.  Please just simply say that you are sorry, if you are.



A few months back, towards the beginning of the year, I began to have a feeling that there was something seriously wrong, medically, with my mom.  At that point, I don't know that she had even been to a doctor yet.  I was having a bad day, and just wanted to call my mom.  I knew she wasn't home, but one of the first symptoms I noticed with my mom was that she lost her voice. And I was beginning to forget what my moms voice actually sounded like.  I just wanted to hear her voice on the answering machine.  My moms answering machine has had the same message on it for as long as I can remember.  Probably 15 years, at least.  My mom, in her chipper voice, saying "Hi, this is Jackie.  Greg and I aren't home right now.  If you want to leave a message....do it now".  And I can always remember thinking to myself, "I really need to have them change that, so she isn't telling people she isn't home."

And the machine picked up, and it wasn't my mom.  It was my step-dad, in a newly recorded message.
And I cried.  I'd give anything to have that greeting back.  To hear my mom telling me, dangerously, that she isn't home, and the whole world is now welcome to come rob them blind.  And she will probably never have her voice back the way it was, and I will probably never get that chance to hear that message again.  And even something little like that, pisses me off.