Terrapin Station

The next part

Yesterday I saw my counselor. She asked how I was, and I said, "I'm good." "I can tell, she said," your energy is totally different today."

I've been dragging in there. I've been dragging everywhere. I've been getting out of bed, no problem, but having a real problem STAYING out of it. Daily naps, some of which lasted all day and none of which interfered with a full night's sleep. It's been like that. 

This past weekend I had a "first" - went to visit Mom for the first time since Dad died and we had his funeral. It was "the new normal." Instead of being with both of them, it was about her. Instead of staying at his apartment, I stayed at my sister's home (she is out of town right now). (I missed seeing my sister but her lovely home was beautifully peaceful.)

On the way there I had a little pity party when I considered that, not only would Daddy not be there, but his home would not, either; and in a way, I no longer have a home -  the home that my parents have always made for me for my whole life. No matter where they lived, their house was home in a way. I could walk in there and kick off my shoes, and be listened to with an attention that I will find no where else in life. 

(Of course, I have a beautiful and historic house as my home for 18 years now, and a husband I adore. It's not the same thing.) 

(Of course, I have my Mom and her room in the nursing home. My heart is there. But it's also not the same thing.)

How lucky am I to get to be 54 years old before this particular grief comes my way? 

I still feel in some ways that I'm swimming through quicksand. As a 9 on the Enneagram, I get stuck easily and stasis is a very easy spot for me to rest in. So I'm working on some decluttering in a purposeful way, and the more productive doing I accomplish, the better it gets. 

More news at 9. 

 

My Mortal Emenies

Yes, I meant to spell it like that.  It alludes to something, but I can't remember what.  "Yr. emeny."  maybe from Up The Down Staircase? 

So, in this week's Big Bang Theory, Sheldon referred to Wil Wheaton being his mortal enemy, and saying that he had a list of mortal enemies with 61 people on it.  As a nice INFP Christian, I would not readily admit that I think of anyone as an enemy, but the more I think of it the more I think of more people.  They are folks that I have something against, that I am letting "live rent-free in my head." 

I am too prudent or too chicken to put the full list online.  I'd like to think prudent is the word.  Some of them, if you know me well, you already know or can guess who some of them are.  It really doesn't matter.  But this morning I sat with Ken, who continues to be miserable.  He was in treatment for 2 months, he has been out for 2 months, he is wretched and improvement is so incremental that it's exceptionally difficult to recognize.  Certainly worse than he was before, because the cancer wasn't bothering him AT ALL. 

Very depressing.  Enemies?  I thought of these:

1. Cancer
2. Cancer TREATMENT that makes you so much sicker than you ever were
3. Doctors and other medical professionals who do not evince care
4. Doctors who did not tell us the severity and duration of treatment effects

and then, thinking of the particular doctor who is number ONE on my Emenies list, it occurred to me that I could totallly understand how someone could "go postal" and confront The Emeny with a gun or other means of making their anger and despair CLEARLY KNOWN. 

And then I burst into tears.  Obviously, just what I needed at the time. 

Note that I have no plans to go anywhere with a gun.  But I wasn't understanding just how angry I am.  A line that my friend Songbird has quoted from good old Jonah comes to mind... "Angry enough to die." 

I am not normally this forthcoming in blog posts, because my mother reads my blog and takes her role as Professional Worrier very seriously.  However, she is currently in the hospital (therefore away from computer and worry), having had spine surgery on Thursday (expected) and a seizure on Friday (unexpected, though she has a history of seizures).  I am hanging fire here, waiting to hear from my younger sister about the current situation; as Ken says, no news is probably good news. 

I guess. 

I/we are okay and will be okay.  Not least because I know some of you will read this and comment, or not, but at least will lift us up in prayer, or intent, or good thoughts.  For that I thank you.  Some days when I feel down, I feel what I call the Great Cloud of Witnesses (and you are in it, and you and you and you!) bearing me up.  I am grateful for that. 

Oh, and I really am still counting my blessings every morning.  Chief among them is that I am well and have no cancer treatments in my immediate future.  Thanks be to God.