Things in my life I shouldn't have to explain: my obsession with Louboutins, my fascination with Donnie Wahlberg and why I only want ONE child. Normally, I would tell people to go fuck themselves (on the inside) when I get that "look" from someone who hears that my husband and I have one and we're done. People tend to you look at you in one of two ways.
First, you get that look of, "wow-- that's selfish of you." Or, my favorite, that look of, "awwww...." like they've just been told I have a terminal disease. In both instances, I have the go fuck yourself response building on the inside. It usually takes every strength I have to control my tongue muscles from saying it. When it really bad, and we're in mixed company, my husband says our secret word (muskrat) and I know to keep my mouth shut.
I recently was faced again with this topic of absolutely no one's business. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind answering the legitimate question, "do you two plan on having any more kids?" It's the spew of diarrhea that comes out of people's mouths after I say no that pisses me off. There are many things that are personal decisions- like religion or politics. Why is this any different? I can't tell you how irritating it is to hear the following sentence: "I know that you only have one but let me tell why I think you should have more...." Go fuck yourself.
Against my better judgment, I've decided to explain, once and for all why only one. I think the best way to do it is in the form of a David Letterman Top Ten List. So, without further ado....
THE TOP TEN REASONS WHY WE ARE ONLY HAVING ONE CHILD
10. Fertility treatments suck and they're painful
9. Kids are really, really expensive
8. We have a healthy baby, why test fate?
7. I got a girl first time out
6. Only children are proven to be smarter (a prominent Texas psychologist did a study and found the following: "(Onlies) tend to score slightly higher in verbal ability, go farther in school and have a little bit higher self-esteem, and a lot of this just has to do with more parent involvement and uninterrupted time with adults.”)
5. I was an only child, and loved it. Husband had siblings and hated it.
4. We are able to give her 100% of our focus and attention
3. I'm not emotionally stable enough to handle the anxiety of two children (my account is red flagged at CVS pharmacy I'm sure).
2. Being a mom, I have already given up a great deal of my life (which I was happy to do)
.....and the number one reason why we are having only one child
THAT'S WHAT WE WANT
It frustrating to say the least. I still tend to live my life as though I am 25. My husband and I go out every Saturday night to dinner whether with friends or alone. Other moms judge that and think it's selfish, well, I think they're ignorant. My husband and I need time together. Everyone said our lives would change when we got married--- but that wasn't a true statement. Our lives changed when our daughter was born. We realized it was important to spend a night out together. Yeah, it's only dinner and I'm still in bed by 11 but I was able to have time alone. I truly believe having another child would impede on this... as a matter of fact, I know it would. It's harder to find a sitter for multiple kids than one.
I've struggled with this myself before. I was open to having a second child.... but my husband wasn't. When I said that to someone recently, they said to stop taking the Pill and not tell. Hmmmm... that's not really the key to a successful marriage but OK, thanks for that. I have a lot of love to give but my heart explodes for this little girl. I don't know how I could love another this much -- although I know parents do.
Instead of people questioning our position on having another child.... I wish they could sit back and see a truly happy family filled with a great deal of love.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Recovery in 3 Acts: Act 3: Surrender
I sit here with tears streaming down my face, yet again.... Mom is back in the hospital due to possible dehydration and constant nausea. This is another set back to her having the feeding tube removed. Surgery appeared to be successful for about two weeks.... and I hesitated to blog about the amazing turn around she was experiencing. Why? Because I knew it was too good to be fucking true. As I try to remain positive for those around me (at least on the outside), I'm not (on the inside). I worry 23 hours a day... the other hour is spent trying to sleep. Every time she gets sick, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach that the Cancer has spread. It's the elephant in the room-- because no one will truly speak of it. When I ask, if the surgeons/GI doctors/etc are concerned, the response is brushed off quickly. Staying positive is important, but being realistic is healthier. Again, my only experience with Cancer has been negative - essentially until my mom's diagnosis. It is important to note that the last surgery and the on-going medical issues she's having are not Cancer related, as far as we know. They stem from digestive issues which could possible be a side affect of the initial surgery to remove the tumor, but there has been no evidence to say Cancer has spread and could be causing these problems.
I heard that early detection equals a 95% success rate- it's a category that I think my mom falls into. I can believe that at times.... but mostly, I worry. I worry about Cancer and I worry about my mom dying and I worry about how I will go on if I lose her. I've said this before, I am still emotionally dependent on her and I think that it may be a co-dependency--- probably 70/30 in my favor. But I can't go on like this in my life. My happiness may not depend on my mom, but it affects me emotionally. There's no way to un-do a way of life that has been going for 36 years strong.
My past time consists of watching endless reality shows on addiction.... It's a fascination (as an aside, I fear that I will be Janice Dickinson in 20 years based on her recent involvement with Celebrity Rehab) of mine but I have learned something from it. I've learned that you must surrender to the addiction in order to move forward and get well. Essentially, I need to surrender to my mom's illness. Its imperative I surrender to my anxiety and allow myself to enjoy life.
Clearly it's not healthy to NOT want to get out of bed. I don't want to just sleep my life away.... I want to just lay in bed. I don't want to go to work. I don't want to answer the phone. I have stopped emailing. contrary to what my husband thinks, I've avoided any social networking... The commercials for depression describe me and I know it. I take enough meds that if I start taking anymore, the FDA may flag my CVS computer profile. My acting hasn't been very convincing because once again, information (as minor as it may be) is starting to be withheld from for fear that I may freak out. I can't help but laugh at that because honestly, I freak out over everything. EVERYTHING in my life is a crisis to some degree or another. Ironically, what my family/friends don't understand is the withholding of information only increases my anxiety because I am always second guessing them about whether or not they are disseminating all the information to me.
Really my only hope at this point is to surrender. When I write my feelings out like this and read them back, even I say, "wow, what a selfish brat." I'm not the one who is physically sick and dealing with feeling like shit on a daily basis, yet my anxiety takes control over me. It's time for ME to recover.... and surrender myself. If only I had a volume button to turn down the noise in my head.
I heard that early detection equals a 95% success rate- it's a category that I think my mom falls into. I can believe that at times.... but mostly, I worry. I worry about Cancer and I worry about my mom dying and I worry about how I will go on if I lose her. I've said this before, I am still emotionally dependent on her and I think that it may be a co-dependency--- probably 70/30 in my favor. But I can't go on like this in my life. My happiness may not depend on my mom, but it affects me emotionally. There's no way to un-do a way of life that has been going for 36 years strong.
My past time consists of watching endless reality shows on addiction.... It's a fascination (as an aside, I fear that I will be Janice Dickinson in 20 years based on her recent involvement with Celebrity Rehab) of mine but I have learned something from it. I've learned that you must surrender to the addiction in order to move forward and get well. Essentially, I need to surrender to my mom's illness. Its imperative I surrender to my anxiety and allow myself to enjoy life.
Clearly it's not healthy to NOT want to get out of bed. I don't want to just sleep my life away.... I want to just lay in bed. I don't want to go to work. I don't want to answer the phone. I have stopped emailing. contrary to what my husband thinks, I've avoided any social networking... The commercials for depression describe me and I know it. I take enough meds that if I start taking anymore, the FDA may flag my CVS computer profile. My acting hasn't been very convincing because once again, information (as minor as it may be) is starting to be withheld from for fear that I may freak out. I can't help but laugh at that because honestly, I freak out over everything. EVERYTHING in my life is a crisis to some degree or another. Ironically, what my family/friends don't understand is the withholding of information only increases my anxiety because I am always second guessing them about whether or not they are disseminating all the information to me.
Really my only hope at this point is to surrender. When I write my feelings out like this and read them back, even I say, "wow, what a selfish brat." I'm not the one who is physically sick and dealing with feeling like shit on a daily basis, yet my anxiety takes control over me. It's time for ME to recover.... and surrender myself. If only I had a volume button to turn down the noise in my head.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Request
I have some "open" followers but I also have "anonymous" follwers. If you are one of my follwers and are anonymous, can you at least let ME know you're reading along? It would mean a great deal.
Hurry Up and Wait.
It's been over a month since my last entry and I'm still waiting.... Still waiting for mom's recovery. Still waiting by the phone while she undergoes ANOTHER surgery. Although, I will admit there have been great strides in the last month, it hasn't been without difficulty. The illness and recovery finally took it's toll on all of us both mentally and physically, but only to be in a better place. Today mom is undergoing another surgery/procedure to hopefully get her off the feeding tube once and for all. Although she has lost an unimaginable amount of weight, she still looks great. She doesn't believe me of course, but I have seen her look worse--- MUCH worse. After my father died I never thought she'd be the same but she was and now I can only hope this turns out the same way.
Today's procedure isn't as invasive as her first surgery yet I still have knots in my stomach to the point of nausea. I'll never be able to manage my anxiety under these circumstances and the reason is simple. Recently, a friend has been able to pinpoint why: Once you lose a parent, you hold onto the other one for dear life. It's true and it's an only child thing. I don't have many friend, in my age group, who have lost a parent. Thankfully, there are few of us. Interestingly, the friends with siblings, don't feel this same struggle. My husband isn't really the best example, but he lost his mother several years ago to Cancer and although he may try, he cannot empathize even an iota of what I feel. I've said before there is a special bond as an only child with a parent, especially when that parent is the mom.
Everywhere I turn in my house, there is a reminder of my father. Whether it's a picture or even something that just brings back fond memories of him, I have it. It's amazing what you hold on to for a connection. I have random items (ie, the last Father's Day present I gave him (a Goofy doll), New York Yankees World Series programs from 76-81.... but the most inane was a piece of fabric from his recliner. I have since given my mom permission to discard). I'm not ever going to say my relationship with him was perfect or that he was perfect, but what I choose to remember and hold on to, is.
I go to great lengths to explain to my two year old as many things as I can about her grandpa... even though she has no idea who I am talking about yet. I don't want to have to do the same thing with her about my mom. I want my mom here to see her grow up. I'm realistic and know she may not be here when my daughter gets married or possibly graduates from college, but by then she will have memories she can hold on to without me telling her what "gamma" was like.
As independent as I claim to be, I'm not. Sure, financially I am but emotionally I'm not. I am completely dependent on my mother. Her mood affects my mood. And I know that's true for her too. When I'm upset, she doesn't sleep for days. But, no matter how much I can get frustrated at times (typical mother-daughter fashion), she is still the first person I want to talk to everyday. it's cliche in some respects but she is my best friend. She has taught me that if I want the same type of relationship with my daughter, it will be my job to foster that. I believe I am off to a good start.
Mom hates it when I tell her I worship her, but I do. I was lucky to have her as a role model for a mom because over the years, I've seen many shitty moms. My mom is one of a kind. She's the mom that every kid deserves to have and even though I'm not a kid anymore, I'm still her kid and I still need her. Some may think this too is unhealthy but fuck 'em. I don't really care.
I'm still waiting for a call that she is out of surgery.... and about 1.5 klonipin later, I'm feeling OK. Relaxed a bit but still on edge. Everytime the phone rings, I jump.... until I see the caller ID and realize that I could give a shit who's on the other line. I am focused on one call today.. I hate to say she's all I have but in a way she is. I may have a beautiful daughter, an amazing husband and great friends but none of them are my mom. So I'm going to continue to hold on tight--- even if it means I can't breathe.
Today's procedure isn't as invasive as her first surgery yet I still have knots in my stomach to the point of nausea. I'll never be able to manage my anxiety under these circumstances and the reason is simple. Recently, a friend has been able to pinpoint why: Once you lose a parent, you hold onto the other one for dear life. It's true and it's an only child thing. I don't have many friend, in my age group, who have lost a parent. Thankfully, there are few of us. Interestingly, the friends with siblings, don't feel this same struggle. My husband isn't really the best example, but he lost his mother several years ago to Cancer and although he may try, he cannot empathize even an iota of what I feel. I've said before there is a special bond as an only child with a parent, especially when that parent is the mom.
Everywhere I turn in my house, there is a reminder of my father. Whether it's a picture or even something that just brings back fond memories of him, I have it. It's amazing what you hold on to for a connection. I have random items (ie, the last Father's Day present I gave him (a Goofy doll), New York Yankees World Series programs from 76-81.... but the most inane was a piece of fabric from his recliner. I have since given my mom permission to discard). I'm not ever going to say my relationship with him was perfect or that he was perfect, but what I choose to remember and hold on to, is.
I go to great lengths to explain to my two year old as many things as I can about her grandpa... even though she has no idea who I am talking about yet. I don't want to have to do the same thing with her about my mom. I want my mom here to see her grow up. I'm realistic and know she may not be here when my daughter gets married or possibly graduates from college, but by then she will have memories she can hold on to without me telling her what "gamma" was like.
As independent as I claim to be, I'm not. Sure, financially I am but emotionally I'm not. I am completely dependent on my mother. Her mood affects my mood. And I know that's true for her too. When I'm upset, she doesn't sleep for days. But, no matter how much I can get frustrated at times (typical mother-daughter fashion), she is still the first person I want to talk to everyday. it's cliche in some respects but she is my best friend. She has taught me that if I want the same type of relationship with my daughter, it will be my job to foster that. I believe I am off to a good start.
Mom hates it when I tell her I worship her, but I do. I was lucky to have her as a role model for a mom because over the years, I've seen many shitty moms. My mom is one of a kind. She's the mom that every kid deserves to have and even though I'm not a kid anymore, I'm still her kid and I still need her. Some may think this too is unhealthy but fuck 'em. I don't really care.
I'm still waiting for a call that she is out of surgery.... and about 1.5 klonipin later, I'm feeling OK. Relaxed a bit but still on edge. Everytime the phone rings, I jump.... until I see the caller ID and realize that I could give a shit who's on the other line. I am focused on one call today.. I hate to say she's all I have but in a way she is. I may have a beautiful daughter, an amazing husband and great friends but none of them are my mom. So I'm going to continue to hold on tight--- even if it means I can't breathe.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Recovery in 3 Acts: Act 2: Waiting
...I wait. ....and I wait. ....and I wait even more. I've started repeating mantras like "one day at a time" or "I can only do what I can do" or "be patient." None of them are helping my Type A, anxiety driven personality. I wake up every morning and the first thought is, "I hope she is better today." Then I make the phone call or go there to find out that no, she isn't any better today. The pain is gone, but there are lingering affects which are preventing her from healing... but more importantly they are preventing her from being her.
She doesn't much understand where everyone's concern comes from which strikes me as odd. My mom isn't just loved. Mom is worshipped by many. If there was ever a perfect mom, grandma, mother in law and probably wife, I'm sure my mom is a candidate for that. None of us can begin to comprehend how hard it's been for her to recover from treatment and surgery, but she can't seem to comprehend what is plaguing us. We worry and wait because we miss her. The person she was before the diagnosis.
We all continue to wait and hope that over time she will return to her full self. Today she is having more tests which will hopefully explain her continued nausea and vomiting. So, I sit here and I wait. I wait for the phone call to hear how she did and what the doctor has said. Once again, I'm sick and have been banned, for obvious reasons. It's hard to be here alone waiting but I'm sure it's worse sitting in a waiting room alone, where her husband is.
Sadly, I think that today my mom is expecting miracles to happen but I fear Dr. S isn't going to have the answers to her questions. My anxiety levels only continue to rise when I think about it. I fear she is never going to be the same. That she is never going to get better. That this is the life we're all going to have.
The best Christmas present I could hope for is her recovery to be speedy, that her tests today give her the definitive answers she's looking for and her mood changes on her own and not in a forced way to make the rest of us happy. I miss my mom but I'll wait as long as it takes and do whatever I can to make this all better for her. .....and I suspect that just means more waiting.
She doesn't much understand where everyone's concern comes from which strikes me as odd. My mom isn't just loved. Mom is worshipped by many. If there was ever a perfect mom, grandma, mother in law and probably wife, I'm sure my mom is a candidate for that. None of us can begin to comprehend how hard it's been for her to recover from treatment and surgery, but she can't seem to comprehend what is plaguing us. We worry and wait because we miss her. The person she was before the diagnosis.
We all continue to wait and hope that over time she will return to her full self. Today she is having more tests which will hopefully explain her continued nausea and vomiting. So, I sit here and I wait. I wait for the phone call to hear how she did and what the doctor has said. Once again, I'm sick and have been banned, for obvious reasons. It's hard to be here alone waiting but I'm sure it's worse sitting in a waiting room alone, where her husband is.
Sadly, I think that today my mom is expecting miracles to happen but I fear Dr. S isn't going to have the answers to her questions. My anxiety levels only continue to rise when I think about it. I fear she is never going to be the same. That she is never going to get better. That this is the life we're all going to have.
The best Christmas present I could hope for is her recovery to be speedy, that her tests today give her the definitive answers she's looking for and her mood changes on her own and not in a forced way to make the rest of us happy. I miss my mom but I'll wait as long as it takes and do whatever I can to make this all better for her. .....and I suspect that just means more waiting.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
This is More Difficult Than I Thought...
It has been said a thousand times, but you spend your youth trying NOT to get pregnant. Before you know it, you're ready to be a mom and you CAN'T get pregnant.
This isn't something I've ever really talked about. I don't know why really--- it's not that I am ashamed of it but I guess it's, well, painful. Recently, I've talked about it more because I have a few friends trying to get get pregnant and are experiencing some difficulty. Some for the first time, some for their second child. No matter when you are trying to get pregnant, there is nothing more stressful or heartbreaking. I have a handful of friends who needed reproductive assistance. When I was going through it, I realized that this was the dirty little secret that no one talked about. There are millions of couples struggling to get pregnant but no matter what, when you try month after month, you feel as though you are the only one.
My story isn't unique. My husband and i went through a series of tests but we ultimately fell under the "unexplained" category. We tried for nearly a year. I invested hundreds of dollars in pregnancy tests, ovulation predictor kits, books on fertility... You name it. I thought each of these items would be like finding the miracle diet pill. That boom, we would have sex and I'd get pregnant. I mean, that's how it's suppose to happen right?
Nothing made me feel less of a woman than not being able to get pregnant. Wow. That's a tough sentence to write but at least for me, it's the truth. As a woman, your body was made for this purpose and to not be able to get pregnant, made me feel useless. I did blame myself, which I know now is foolish. But, follow my train of thought... my husband had one test, just one which he passed with flying colors. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his sperm, so then if it's not him, it's got to be... me? Yeah.
Being an anxious person didn't help the process either. Please don't misunderstand, anxiety didn't cause me not to get pregnant, it just made it harder to deal with. Anxiety does not have anything to do with getting pregnant. If you are trying to get pregnant, repeat that to yourself as though it were a personal mantra. By the way, there are a number of things you don't say to someone trying to get pregnant:
1. Relax, it will just happen
2. You don't miss what you don't have
3. Not everyone is suppose to have kids
4. Can't you just adopt?
5. Do you really want to put your body through all this?
Those were my favorites. People don't mean to be insensitive, they are just trying to help. Most of these lines came from close friends and family so I know at the time they were being comforting-- it just didn't work. Chalk infertility up to one of those topics where you never know what the right thing to say is.
My husband was my rock. He was the only one I could turn to during all of the this. Some of the fertility tests were very painful but he was by my side. After much discussion with our reproductive endocrinologist, I chose to skip the option to take another pill and get right into the action. Our first attempt was to be an IUI (intrauterine insemination). This was going to require shots, frequent blood work and almost daily internal ultrasounds-- over a two week period.
I didn't complain-- not once. I knew what I was doing was important, but looking back now, I felt horrible all the time. The hormones made me sick and very tired. Our first attempt was fortunately our only attempt because I became pregnant with our daughter. I would do this all over again just to have her and I never doubt the decisions we made. Pregnancy was awesome. I didn't want to just become a mom, I wanted to be pregnant. I wanted to experience all the excitement. I remember it all like it was yesterday. My first trimester was difficult and I almost lost her a few weeks in, but it was first time that my maternal instinct kicked in and I knew she was going to be just fine.... even though at the time I was convinced she was a he.
This isn't something I've ever really talked about. I don't know why really--- it's not that I am ashamed of it but I guess it's, well, painful. Recently, I've talked about it more because I have a few friends trying to get get pregnant and are experiencing some difficulty. Some for the first time, some for their second child. No matter when you are trying to get pregnant, there is nothing more stressful or heartbreaking. I have a handful of friends who needed reproductive assistance. When I was going through it, I realized that this was the dirty little secret that no one talked about. There are millions of couples struggling to get pregnant but no matter what, when you try month after month, you feel as though you are the only one.
My story isn't unique. My husband and i went through a series of tests but we ultimately fell under the "unexplained" category. We tried for nearly a year. I invested hundreds of dollars in pregnancy tests, ovulation predictor kits, books on fertility... You name it. I thought each of these items would be like finding the miracle diet pill. That boom, we would have sex and I'd get pregnant. I mean, that's how it's suppose to happen right?
Nothing made me feel less of a woman than not being able to get pregnant. Wow. That's a tough sentence to write but at least for me, it's the truth. As a woman, your body was made for this purpose and to not be able to get pregnant, made me feel useless. I did blame myself, which I know now is foolish. But, follow my train of thought... my husband had one test, just one which he passed with flying colors. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his sperm, so then if it's not him, it's got to be... me? Yeah.
Being an anxious person didn't help the process either. Please don't misunderstand, anxiety didn't cause me not to get pregnant, it just made it harder to deal with. Anxiety does not have anything to do with getting pregnant. If you are trying to get pregnant, repeat that to yourself as though it were a personal mantra. By the way, there are a number of things you don't say to someone trying to get pregnant:
1. Relax, it will just happen
2. You don't miss what you don't have
3. Not everyone is suppose to have kids
4. Can't you just adopt?
5. Do you really want to put your body through all this?
Those were my favorites. People don't mean to be insensitive, they are just trying to help. Most of these lines came from close friends and family so I know at the time they were being comforting-- it just didn't work. Chalk infertility up to one of those topics where you never know what the right thing to say is.
My husband was my rock. He was the only one I could turn to during all of the this. Some of the fertility tests were very painful but he was by my side. After much discussion with our reproductive endocrinologist, I chose to skip the option to take another pill and get right into the action. Our first attempt was to be an IUI (intrauterine insemination). This was going to require shots, frequent blood work and almost daily internal ultrasounds-- over a two week period.
I didn't complain-- not once. I knew what I was doing was important, but looking back now, I felt horrible all the time. The hormones made me sick and very tired. Our first attempt was fortunately our only attempt because I became pregnant with our daughter. I would do this all over again just to have her and I never doubt the decisions we made. Pregnancy was awesome. I didn't want to just become a mom, I wanted to be pregnant. I wanted to experience all the excitement. I remember it all like it was yesterday. My first trimester was difficult and I almost lost her a few weeks in, but it was first time that my maternal instinct kicked in and I knew she was going to be just fine.... even though at the time I was convinced she was a he.
Recovery in 3 Acts: Act 1 Hope
I have avoided this blog for weeks--- and it hasn't gone unnoticed. At first, I kept telling myself I was very busy but that was my usual denial. I didn't want to face my fears and discuss all the emotion and noise in my head. When you begin to write it, you really feel it and I've spent the better part of my life (or at least the last 13 years) trying not to feel anything. I numb myself in anyway I know how.
November 15. It came, we saw, she conquered. My mom bravely fought what will hopefully be her last battle with Cancer. She had a successful surgery in which Dr. N declared her to be Cancer-free. CANCER FREE. We heard that term once before from Dr. S the oncologist but his came with the disclaimer that we won't know for sure until they open her up. When they did, there was nothing there and most importantly her lymph nodes looked good. We still patiently await the biopsy results but Dr. N and Dr. S are confident about her health and her long future.
Where was I on November 15? Home in bed. The Italian guilt did kick in.... as usual but not much could have been done.By an act of what I believe was divine intervention, I contracted some mutant alien version of strep throat which had me on anti-biotics, steroids and percocet. I slept through the surgery-- and mostly the day for that matter. I was completely knocked out by the pain killers which was good because looking back, I don't know who I was fooling but I wouldn't have been strong enough to survive the day. Even though I wasn't there, I was scared. I was scared for days leading up to the surgery. No longer in fear of the Cancer but in fear of the unknown. Surgery is risky and this was big. My psychosis is my worst enemy...
I didn't get to see my mom for nearly 8 days because I was sick. The last think I wanted to do was be responsible for spreading germs. Let's face it-- hospitals are the breeding grounds for disease as it is, no need to make it worse. She couldn't talk to me either which was hard. She was heavily medicated and in a great deal of pain. Two weeks later and she still is in a great deal of pain.
Trying to take care of her is an odd feeling-- not bad or good, just odd. I can't really verbalize all that I am going through right now. Being an only child she did(and still does to an extent) take care of me. I am happy to do it, but it gives me anxiety. I wonder if she is ever going to be the same after this surgery. Will she ever be the same mom she was. These are my real concerns.
I miss my mom. I am beyond words thankful that she is still here and fought this battle as hard as she did. Yet, at the same time, she's not here. I suppose all of this could be normal-- but nothing I feel is ever normal so who knows. One day at a time is all I can do. It's all we can do.
November 15. It came, we saw, she conquered. My mom bravely fought what will hopefully be her last battle with Cancer. She had a successful surgery in which Dr. N declared her to be Cancer-free. CANCER FREE. We heard that term once before from Dr. S the oncologist but his came with the disclaimer that we won't know for sure until they open her up. When they did, there was nothing there and most importantly her lymph nodes looked good. We still patiently await the biopsy results but Dr. N and Dr. S are confident about her health and her long future.
Where was I on November 15? Home in bed. The Italian guilt did kick in.... as usual but not much could have been done.By an act of what I believe was divine intervention, I contracted some mutant alien version of strep throat which had me on anti-biotics, steroids and percocet. I slept through the surgery-- and mostly the day for that matter. I was completely knocked out by the pain killers which was good because looking back, I don't know who I was fooling but I wouldn't have been strong enough to survive the day. Even though I wasn't there, I was scared. I was scared for days leading up to the surgery. No longer in fear of the Cancer but in fear of the unknown. Surgery is risky and this was big. My psychosis is my worst enemy...
I didn't get to see my mom for nearly 8 days because I was sick. The last think I wanted to do was be responsible for spreading germs. Let's face it-- hospitals are the breeding grounds for disease as it is, no need to make it worse. She couldn't talk to me either which was hard. She was heavily medicated and in a great deal of pain. Two weeks later and she still is in a great deal of pain.
Trying to take care of her is an odd feeling-- not bad or good, just odd. I can't really verbalize all that I am going through right now. Being an only child she did(and still does to an extent) take care of me. I am happy to do it, but it gives me anxiety. I wonder if she is ever going to be the same after this surgery. Will she ever be the same mom she was. These are my real concerns.
I miss my mom. I am beyond words thankful that she is still here and fought this battle as hard as she did. Yet, at the same time, she's not here. I suppose all of this could be normal-- but nothing I feel is ever normal so who knows. One day at a time is all I can do. It's all we can do.
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