Here and There

I don't know what's going on with me lately. NSA is in Colorado with his family, who he really doesn't like very much, but his mom and dad are old, and his dad is undergoing radiation treatments for prostate cancer, so best to visit while he can and before things get veryvery bad. I miss him and I'm glad he's gone at the same time.
I have nine, NINE!, blog postings in draft, but I can't seem to finish any of them. I'm having a hard time focusing and seeing anything through to completion.
I want to redesign my blog, there are some cool new templates out there, but (see above.)
September and October are bad months for me, and as as result, I think I'm especially edgy and fretful. Maybe medication is a good idea. But then there's that stupid Newsweek article about the inefficacy of antidepressants, and so I think, why bother?
Sometimes I stumble across music that I really like, but isn't very helpful, mood-wise. Blue October's "Into the Ocean" is just such a song.
I feel like I've been walking in a fog bank for the past couple of years. Sometimes it's very slow going and I have to feel my way along, and sometimes the sun shines through and I think everything will be okay, but what I really need is for the fog to lift.

Happy Thanksgiving!

So I put these stupid boundaries on my blogging, what I'll write about and when and a certain order to things, and I end up not writing anything at all. Or starting a bunch of posts, but not finishing or publishing them. Which is most definitely not the point of blogging! (When did I start writing in sentence fragments? When did that become acceptable? Mrs. Parsons would be so irritated!)
These past couple of weeks were pretty rough. NSA had a CT scan Tuesday, November 25th, and we had to wait for the results until the following Wednesday. He has a steady pain in his lower left back that could be a lot of things, but one of the possibilities that his gastrointernist, Dr. Valkyrie mentioned, almost casually, was pancreatic cancer. Pancreatic cancer is one of the worst, meaning that by the time you show symptoms, it's pretty much already too late. Average lifespan is like five months from diagnosis to death. And it just so happens that one of my favorite comedians of all time, Bill Hicks, died of it. I was freaking out a little. Okay, a lot, given my recent history, but trying not to show it.
The "cancer answer" was, thankfuckinggod!!, no. (But I did have a post planned titled Excuse Me While I Freak Out For A While, if the answer was yes, because I definitely would have needed a break from blogging.) And a part of me, that strange little detached part, whispered that if NSA did have cancer, that it would be almost unbelievable, that it would stretch the bounds of reality, especially in the blogosphere, to have my mother, my husband, my father-in-law, and my mother-in-law all have cancer in the same year. Who would believe it? So now I have something to celebrate. The "cancer answer" was NO! (Although we still don't know what the pain is...) Happy Thanksgiving!

Limbo

I'm in a weird and difficult place right now, trying to prepare for what's to come. I say "trying" because, how do you prepare, really? I've made some arrangements, there were financial and legal matters that Mom let go unattended (no will?? WTF?!), that I took care of as best I could. Other than that, I'm just waiting. Waiting. Waiting for something bad to happen, which is not a fun place to be. Not like when you were little, waiting for summer vacation or Halloween night or Christmas morning, that's happy anticipation. This is just inevitable dread that sits like a rock in the pit of your stomach, making it hard to think about anything else, making you wish you were somewhere else, someone else, even.
Emotionally, I'm glad I was able to spend some quality time with my mom while she was still cognizant and continent, I'm glad I spent the extra week. I don't know why I initially thought one week would be enough.There wasn't a lot left unsaid between us or anything, so we watched movies, listened to the radio and chatted with lots of friends of hers, an exhausting amount, really. Until she was spending more time asleep than awake, and, when she was awake, pressing the button on her morphine pump frequently. I hated leaving, but I couldn't afford to stay, and there wasn't much point really. We've said our goodbyes.
The really sucky thing is that, other than the cancer, she's in pretty good shape. Her heart is strong, her blood pressure is better than mine, so she might linger for a while, which isn't what she wanted at all. But unfortunately, there's not much that can be done about it now, so we're waiting. Waiting.

Fractured Pieces

So here I am blogging when there's so much else that needs doing, but I want to share, need to share, I guess. Pardon my grammar and coherency, both are liable to fall by the wayside.

• Having to leave my mom while she's still alive is causing me a fair amount of guilt, even though her condition deteriorated greatly while I was there, and before I left, she was spending most of the time asleep. I keep reminding myself that she's surrounded by friends, and she never lived her life to please anyone except herself.
• Not having been back for a long time, I forget how beautiful Alaska is, how heart-stoppingly gorgeous. And how much it feels like home. I'm also tempted to forget how long and dark the winters are.
• I realized that October 23rd will be the thirteenth anniversary of my little brother's death, and I don't think my mom will make it past this date. October, which used to be my favorite month, is pretty much going to suck forever after this.
• Some children actually inherit stuff when a parent dies. I'm inheriting a lot of personal memoribilia and some debt. Turns out, my mom no longer owns the land she wants to be buried on. Oh, and I'll get a yellow 1987 Chevy pickup too. Sweet!
• More guilt in that I had to take two of my mother's sweet kitties to the local shelter. They are healthy and and adorable and will be kept until adopted, but I felt so fucking bad that I coudn't keep them myself, and I couldn't even explain to them what was going on. I'm more than a little pissed that none of Mom's friends were willing to step in and help out.
• I have a vicious cold, which is understandable considering the long flights and the fact that I lived in the hospital for two weeks. Mom's in the hospice room, which is better appointed than a regular room, and family and friends are welcome to stay the night. That's one thing about small towns, it seems like it's easier for people to be accomodating.

Well, it isn't over yet, and there's definitely more to tell, but that's all I can muster for now. I went back to work Monday and am still cleaning up the mess from when I was gone. Sheesh!

Some Small Resolve

I slept really badly last night, mostly because a) I was worried about my Mom being back in the hospital, and the possibility that she could die before I see her, b) my boss was being less than supportive about me going to see my Mom (!!!) and c) I'm missing NSA badly and am stressing because he's always been there to support me and offer help. If you've read some of my past entries, you know that I can be really critical of my mom and the choices she's made (like NOT TREATING HER CANCER), but she's still my mother and I love her dearly and I will miss her when she's gone. I'm not looking forward to cleaning up the mess she'll leave behind, but that's a whole different post.
My boss was giving me a hard time about taking a fucking week off to go see my dying mother. This is even though I have weeks of vacation time accrued, not to mention over a week of sick leave and a couple of personal days too. I know I didn't ask for the time off the requisite month in advance, but I think this qualifies as a personal emergency and FUCK the rules, help me out here, like I do when you come to me with a project that must be taken care of immediately. She did come through, I just had to toss and turn for a night first.
NSA is sorry he went out to Colorado, it hasn't been great for his health and most of his family are wallet-draining vampires, but he's been able to see his father and spend some time with his mom, so it's not a total waste of time and money. And I've discovered some things too, like, you know how sometimes in a relationship, one person loves and cares more about the other person? Not that they don't love each other, but that it's not exactly equal. That was how I felt about NSA, like he loved me a little bit more than I loved him. Not any more. I took him for granted, which was childish and selfish, and I love and miss him deeply. It's like losing a leg, I'm functional, but hobbled and hurting without him. I'm glad I understand that now.
So Thursday, I'm off to the wilds of Alaska to see my mom, probably for the last time, with my very expensive plane ticket (but isn't that what plastic is for?) I'll take pictures, and maybe even post them, so you can see where I come from. And that might explain a lot.

Buried In An Avalanche Of Shit

This is what's going on in my life right now, and, FUCK ME!, am I ever sorry I complained about last year. I guess I was just asking for more punishment with my bitching.
NSA and I are in a trial separation. He's in Colorado visiting his family, trying to spend time with his father, who has prostate cancer. His dad, however, is not inclined to see much of his family, since mostly they want his money and don't have much regard for him. NSA couldn't give a shit about his dad's money, he's just interested in spending time with the old man before he dies. He's being tarred with the same brush as the rest of his siblings though, and his father's new wife is playing dragon at the gate and keeping everyone away. NSA is understandably pissed off and frustrated. It took a lot out of him just to get to Colorado, and he doesn't particularly enjoy living with the bitching, petty jealousies, and infighting that make up his familial interactions. On the plus side, comparatively, life with me in SoCal now doesn't seem so bad.
My mother is in the hospital dealing with the symptoms of her cancer. She's had to have fluid removed from her right lung again, and she's in a considerable amount of pain. She's to the point where she'll consider surgery, chemotherapy and radiation, but, according to her doctor, it's probably too late. Probably just a matter of months, weeks maybe. The cancer has metastasized to her lung and possibly her bones as well. So I'm trying to plan what will most likely be my last trip to see my mother alive. Thank you sir, may I have another?
I'm trying to practice the survival techniques you're taught for bad situations, like avalanches. Things like, don't panic, remain calm, assess the situation. But I feel like my air is running out and I'm afraid help won't arrive in time.

Cool and Gray

It's cool and cloudy this morning and that suits me just fine. I didn't sleep well last night since there was some drama going on around the complex that involved much screaming and slamming of doors; I hate most drama now, I have enough of my own thankyouverymuch. NSA will be going to Colorado for an extended family visit soon, probably within the next week or two. His health isn't good and he really isn't up for traveling, but his father is letting his cancer go untreated and NSA is really unhappy with me, so it seems like the best option right now. No paperwork has been filed and I'm thinking of it as a temporary separation. We'll see if time and space make a difference, good or other. (A part of me thinks that since his family is so fucked up, he'll want to come back after two days. That he'll see our situation isn't so bad and I'm not that hard to live with, considering.)
My mother was in the hospital over the weekend. She didn't call me until one of her friends said that if she didn't, the friend would. She felt short of breath on Saturday, and a trip to the emergency room revealed that her right lung was full of fluid. They drained her lung and kept her overnight. While it doesn't look like the cancer has spread to her lung, apparently the tumor is seeping fluid. At least now she's willing to consider chemotherapy, only seventeen months after finding the lump in her breast.
My mood is cool and gray too. I'm feeling foggy and dispassionate, just limping toward the weekend hoping nothing will happen. I don't think I could handle anything else right now.

The State of the Prostate

Remember what I said about my father-in-law having prostate cancer and maybe being smarter than my mother about treatment? Well, no, he's definitely not. Apparently, his doctor recommended surgery, but instead, he's opted to seek treatment from some shamanistic healer type, because he truly, sincerely believes all disease is in your mind. Whatever. That vomiting you're doing? Not from the shrimp salad you ate for lunch, no, must be that anger you still harbor towards your first grade teacher. You have diabetes? Certainly not because your Islets of Langerhans burnt out prematurely, what unresolved issues do you have with your grandfather?
And what pisses me off the most is that he doesn't see it as a form of suicide, as an incredibly self-hating and self-destructive thing to do, he just thinks he's smarter than the whole medical community. People who go into the field of psychology are NUTS, and trying to resolve their own issues.

Kicked When I'm Down

I honestly woke up feeling okay this morning. The nasturtiums NSA planted in the window box smell good, I never even realized nasturtiums had a smell. I have a lot to do, but I'm getting through it, the sun is shining and I'm feeling capable. And then, a call. My father-in-law has prostate cancer. JESUS H. MOTHERFUCKING CHRIST!!
I'm floored. I just need a break, a little time when there's nothing going on, no one to worry about, no shit happening. I feel like I just barely get a grip on this slippery eel, and it twists it's way out of my grasp again. I'm left feeling desperate and inadequate, hopeless and frustrated, I just want to run away. And I'm pissed off, because nothing is ever simple or easy or clean. It's not just that my F-I-L has cancer, it's also that he's retired military and splits his salary with my M-I-L, so if he dies, there goes half her income, health care and shopping benefits. Which she uses to support her grandson directly and the rest of the family peripherally. F-I-L is the same kind of asshole as my mother, believing in the power of the mind to control all things, so we'll see what kind of treatment he opts for, if any.
And I'm befuddled and bereft, shaking my head and wondering, what the fuck am I supposed to do??

Whew!

I've been laid out for the past couple of days with a bout of intestinal nastiness. Nothing like an icky little virus, and accompanying blinding headache, to force you to pause and reflect. I've been on a bit of a downward trajectory lately (lately??, for awhile now), and Mom visiting didn't help. Or maybe it did, since it was good to see her, and the things going on in her life help bring my problems into focus. And then I saw this photo series thanks to Dooce, which broke my heart and made me cry, and think, and cry. Most of these men and women died of cancer, most of them look pretty healthy, some of them seem very young. I guess I'm preparing myself for the inevitable. Mom is 69, which isn't young, and she isn't taking the usual steps to control her cancer, and while she believes in miracles, I have my doubts. She's lived her life continuously procrastinating, denying, and avoiding, mostly to her detriment; why would I think she would treat dying any differently?
It's interesting when I find themes from my life echoing in the wider world, but then, there is always a commonality of experience. I'm not afraid of death, I'm afraid of how I'll feel when Mom dies. I don't want to hurt, don't want to grieve, don't want to clean up the mess she'll leave behind. And thinking about these things isn't easy, and makes me face up to how and what I've been doing with my life. It's not a particularly great assessment. But that can change, and I really need change right now.

Here, There and Everywhere

Feeling frustrated and scattered today, like I'm gathering marbles on the deck of a pitching ship, having zero success. NSA was feeling insecure this morning, which lead to feelings of jealousy, which lead to him picking a fight as I was leaving. I fucking hate it when he does that! So then there are multiple strained calls back and forth until he's reassured and we (kind of) get things sorted out. I gave him reason to mistrust me a couple of years ago, and it's been a recurring issue since then. His disability has been a huge blow to his self-esteem, and my husband, who used to be a smart, handy, energetic go-getter, has been reduced to a state of miserable dependence where he can't work, can't drive, and has trouble leaving the house. He is understandably bitter and angry a lot of the time. I tell him that it's not his fault, that I know he would never choose this, but it's small comfort. So much has gone on in the seventeen years (!!!) of our relationship, but his health deteriorating has been the worst.
My mother visited this weekend, a quick stop between a cancer retreat and a trip to Hawaii to see friends. She doesn't seem to be doing badly, her spirits are good, but I think things are worse than she's willing to tell me. She doesn't really know what's going on with the cancer, I think she's afraid to find out, except that the lump is getting bigger and it hurts. I didn't realize before, but she has a huge phobia about surgery and going into the hospital, she really thinks she'll die from just that. I'm trying to understand and accept her choices, but it's very, very hard. To me, it seems like she's being stupid and stubborn, set on a course of action and no one in the goddamned world can dissuade her. Kind of like Bush in Iraq, blinders on and "stay the course" no matter the cost. And she'll hate that I compared her to him, which gives me a small amount of evil satisfaction.

Days of Blood and Cancer

Well, I guess I must really need an outlet for my feelings, because while I'm afraid that I'll end up revealing too much and get dooced, I can't seem to stop myself from blogging. I don't know what I think it will achieve, except maybe making me feel better, but I've been an inveterate journal-izer for a long time now, and it's a hard habit to break. Also, the exhibitionist in me loves to make private things public, so baring my soul is titillating.

I've been helping out a coworker for the past few days because, it turns out, she has cancer and needs blood transfusions before she can have chemotherapy. Four pints of blood, to be exact, half a gallon. At a thousand dollars per pint. That seems like a lot, of blood and money. And it blows my mind, because I'm fucking surrounded by cancer! I know that people now have the opportunity to die of cancer, because a hundred years ago, you'd probably die of pneumonia or influenza or some nasty infection before cancer had the chance to kill you, but it's still weird how themes seem to come up in my life. And I don't think it's a case of simply becoming more aware, although it could be that I'm aging, and then, so are the people around me.

My mother persists in her homeopathic treatments and visits to her healer, although her homeopathic practitioner has advised her against drinking coffee, which my mom can't do. She can't give up her morning caffeine fix even to try to help her healing process. She has said that she will see an oncologist, but has yet to make an appointment. She told me about the lump in her breast last February, almost a year ago. Everytime I see one of those "early detection is the key" ads, I just want to SCREAM. For now, I've been trying to keep my stress levels under control, I've got to get rid of this lead weight in my stomach.

Worst Year of My Life

and then I have to add the caveat "so far!" because things could always get worse.

Let's review:
My mother has breast cancer. Not surprising since she is a senior citizen and there is a history in our family. She told me about the lump in her breast in March, she finally had a biopsy in November. Why did she wait so long for a diagnosis? Why wasn't she having regular mammograms (like everyone and their sister recommends)? Because my mother is a bit nuts, that's why. Because I think she's suffered from depression and rage issues for most of her life. Because she says that mammograms hurt and she doesn't trust allopathic doctors, and it seems like she would rather die than have chemotherapy. And what can I do about it? Fuck-all, really. Her clinician says that she respects my mother's choice not to have invasive surgery, but I don't. I have NO RESPECT AT ALL for my mother's choice to put her faith in homeopathy, postive imaging and a "healer." I feel that those options are a good adjunct to surgery and other therapies (why not try everything?), but not a replacement. If Chinese herbs and massage and visualization and nutrition and praying were a cure, then why would Western medicine have ever been necessary? Why did she ignore and minimize the problem just hoping that it would go away, that it wasn't cancer? She's always been a procrastinator, but why delay when your health is at stake? I am very, very pissed at my mother right now.

My mother-in-law has cancer. An aggressive form of skin cancer, discovered in October, not as serious as my mom, but she didn't delay in treating it, just went to the doctor, had a biopsy, and had part of her nose removed. So she gets to look like Rudolph the White-Nosed Reindeer for the holidays, but at least she dealt with it in a sane, rational, adult way, not by wishing and praying and ignoring the problem. I respect her deeply for that. She wants to stay around a little while longer to take care of my nephew.

My crack-whore sister-in-law was stabbed twice in the back by a john, collapsing one lung, puncturing her spleen and losing a lot of blood. Oddly enough, even though she is now spleen-less, this has been a good thing. She is now on medication to control her Hepatitis C, and since she is regularly tested, she's staying off the hard drugs. She's applied for government aid, and the john will most likely be paying her reparations for the attack. She's doing better than she has in years, and it only took a near-fatal assault to change her life.

My disabled husband's health continues to be a problem. The latest thing is that the vertebrae in his neck have degenerated to the point that he needs surgery, but the neurosurgeon can't do the operation until his T-score (bone density test) is higher. So there's two years of daily injections that he has to look forward to before he might be able to get the surgery to repair his fragile neck. And in the meantime, he needs to be very, very careful.

My uncle was released after seven years in prison. This could have been a good thing, except that he has had mental problems his whole life, and he's finding it difficult to function in the outside world. He was put away on an arson charge, which makes it difficult to find a place to live. He's in a psychiatric hospital right now because he can't control his drinking, won't take his medication, thinks that God has abandoned him and the Devil wants to roast him alive. He's had such a hard life, and things aren't going to be any easier for him any time soon.

I've been struggling. I used to be what my Mom calls a "blithe spirit," upbeat and sunny and easy to be around. I didn't worry much, wasn't angry and had faith in the future. Now I'm irritable and fretful, angry a lot of the time, stressed to the point of needing to see a therapist and considering medication as an option, because I feel like I need help. I hate being this way. I miss my bright, cheerful, happy self. I hope she comes back soon.

Those are the highlights. I know I'm downright lucky in comparision with other's lives, no one has died (yet), but as my dearest husband says, "you only know your own worst day" and this year has been pretty fucking bad. Can't wait for 2008. Merry Christmas!