Skip to main content

Are you sitting down?

Yesterday (or was it two days ago- oh how they blend and mush together) I get a phone call from my brother -

"Are you sitting down?"

My heart sunk to the bottom of my feet. Sharp intake of air. Shaking hands. 

"Yes. . "

"Nothing to alarm you- I don't want to scare you. Mom's fine, BUT"

I hate that stupid conjunction. 

"She had an allergic reaction to new medication today. She was given several at once so they aren't sure what caused it. She has trouble breathing, but didn't lose consciousness. She's in the hospital though. I'll call you when we know more."

No. I can't be scared to answer the phone now. To think about every second she was trying to breathe and I was totally oblivious- no idea anything was even wrong. Just like the day they found her cancer. 

That's the hardest question. Not how are you, but when people ask, "how's your mom?" I feel terrible because all I can say is, "I don't know." I don't know how she is, I don't know what she needs. I don't know how she's feeling. I can imagine she's tired. I imagine she is worn out. I imagine she's a little bored and wrung out. I know people are really just acknowledging that she's struggling and the only way they know how to talk about it is to shine a bright light on it and ask how she is. 


There is no "right way" to react to cancer. Some people cry, others just get quiet. I imagine there are those who get angry  and then there people like me who feel nothing. Initially I cried- I cried for my mom. For lost time and memories. For worry and for hope. I bawled for her sorrow and for the ache that no one can explain. And then ...  Nothing. 

No anger. No hope. Numb. Empty. 

I feel like a glass that got left out on the counter with nothing inside. Waiting for something in vain. 

I cannot express what I feel inside. I know I put on my teacher face and long for sleep every day. I want to go home and stay away from it all at the same time. 

There is no answer for the "why my mom?" question. There is no turning back the clock and filling the timer with more sand, more memories and more hugs. 

But there is time to color the grains left with hope, and hugs, and whispered wishes. 

My deepest wish? I wish I was stronger. Not for me- for my mom. She is everything I hope to become in a person, in a mother. And for her, I wish I could be her strength and tell her it's okay to rest awhile. It's okay to cry. It's okay to lean on us. It's okay to not be okay. So for her:

It's okay, mom- I can be the strong one today. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I WENT SKIING... and almost died thrice.

I finally got the guts to try skiing for the first time ever in my life. Let's not mention the fact that I've lived in Logan for 3 years now. No big deal. My inspiration? A free trip with fourth graders from Mountainside Elementary. It was painless (mostly). I only came away with a huge bruise on my derrière. It turned purple instantly. And I may or may not have permanently bruised my right elbow. I mean I only completely wiped-out like 3 times. No big deal. But I was brave. I owned the mountain at least as much as it owned me. I was proud of my seemingly small accomplishment, all thanks to Tony at Beaver Mountain. So- thanks Tony for spending your afternoon coaching me the way I, a useless Texan in skis, needed to enjoy skiing and seeing how fun it can be to fall down a mountain in skis. :) good times. *********UPDATE************* I'm 97% positive I permanently damaged my right elbow. I think I chipped my bone? It's quite painful. Hopefully I get to see the doctor next...
3 comments
Read more

Ponderings...

I've come again to the white page to fill it up with words. At this time, there isn't much I have words for, mostly just feelings floating around and making mess inside. It's all very hard to describe. I recently encountered a new idea of thinking about your thoughts as passengers on a bus. Sometimes, we let those thoughts "drive our bus," even when we know it isn't the best idea. Currently, the feeling driving my bus is something like hope, but worse. It's not the positive, genuine hope with the silver lining. Instead, I feel like I'm chasing hope, grasping at air, screaming in silence, drowning in the deep feels. One of the ways to switch up the driver, is to acknowledge first, who is in charge? The driver or dispatch? Short answer is... dispatch. The driver merely follows the route and direction given to him or her. It's the big dogs who are really in charge. False, fleeting, run-away hope seems  like it is wearing the pants, but really, t...
Post a Comment
Read more

Irrational Pregnancy Tears...

Today I realized that perspective is truly relative. You can try to sympathize or even empathize to a certain extent but no one truly knows how you feel because no one is exactly like you. We are affected by our experiences and our own perception. Even "normal" things like colors and shapes- things seemingly straight forward and unchanging are perceived differently. It's a fascinating concept I never really understood until I became pregnant. You hear stories, you meet people and even watch movies of what it can be like. There are several apps to choose from that will give you a full run down play by play of what to expect, how you feel, and common symptoms. But there is nothing in the world that can prepare you for how it ACTUALLY feels, for your perception and your version of this crazy journey of growing a human. I am so happy we are having a baby boy. I've always wanted to start our family with an "oldest brother." I'm grateful my hormones aren...
Post a Comment
Read more