All the Truth that's Fit to Print

A good friend was surprised to learn that the last few days have been rough around here, noting that my blog stays relatively upbeat.  It seems to be deceptively so, fooling friends and family alike.

Which is not to say that this whole blog is one big perfect lie, only that it is definitely selective.  It has all happened and is all relatively true, acknowledging my inborn-Texas tendency to exaggerate by at least 25%. But it is not everything.  Not by a long shot.

I don't talk about my sex life here.  Yes, I'm a lesbian and I'll discuss gender issues and feminist politics but nothing akin to the Fifty Shades of Gay.  This is a family-friendly family website.  I don't often talk about Mama Hungry, as I've explained in the past (though I can't for the life of me find it--it basically said that, while she is at the core of my life and our family, I'm not here to tell her story or even our story--that's private--except when it feels relevant or meaningful, as it has recently), except to note her recent health trials and tribulations that will, hopefully, climax with surgery on Tuesday.  (Wait, if this is a family blog, can I even say "climax?")  I don't tattle on Sis and Bud.  I've never noted, at least as far as I can recall, when they've physically or emotionally hurt each other (it happens), when they've made mistakes or had embarrassing accidents (that happens, too), etc.  I'll record our fun activities, their bon mots, their "things that make me go hmmm," essentially the kinds of things you'd put in a really long baby book.  This is not the complete record of their childhoods, it's a recording of the highlights and my reflections on the effects on my life and myself--my story, what I have learned and what I want to remember most and what I want to share.  And while I definitely learn from the negative, and sometimes reference it here, I like to remember the positive.  And share the stuff I don't think will embarrass any of us, especially the kids, later.  I also protect their identities and never post photos.  Lastly, I don't record all of our family ups and downs (when Mama and I fight--it happens--or when I want to throttle the kids or they me), or even all of my personal ones--though sometimes I do overshare (my back issues, for instance) more than others.  I can't say how I decide. It's just how ever I am feeling when I'm typing.  One big clue--if I'm not posting everyday, even more than once, something is usually wrong unless I've told you in advance that we're heading out of town or into radio silence.

All of which is to say that I haven't been dwelling here on how crappy things have been recently, because I don't want to think about it.  But here goes . . . I've finally popped.  Maybe this will help.

Since Mama's initial medical concerns in April, we've been jumping through one medical and emotional hoop after another.  Is it as bad as it could be?  No, but it's no picnic either.  Yes, we're glad she doesn't have cancer.  Yes, we're thrilled they caught it early.  But surgery and recovery are still a big deal and scary for us., especially because we're worriers and fixers (and I'm emotional and reactive).  She has long been the strong one in our family, the caretaker, especially while I recovered from my own back injury odyssey which began two years ago today, and now we are completely switching places.

And I worry.

I worry that something awful will happen during surgery--one of those 200,000 annual deadly hospital mistakes.  I can't even begin to illuminate those fears.  We've grown up together--she was 19 when we met and I was 22.  I want to grow old together while we watch our children grow up.

I worry that they'll find cancer, which is possible though not entirely probable--but they still keep her comatose on the operating table while they send her tissues to pathology to check and have the oncologist right there in case there are any cancer cells.  Certainly, cancer is not the end of the world and we have many  strong and brave friends who have come through it.

I worry that I am not up to the physical challenge, even with the help of 4 grandparents, friends, neighbors, and church friends, of taking care of her, the kids, and the household.  This is especially worrying because my back is at a real low right now and I'm resting most of the day, unable to do many of the things I've regained in the last several months.  I feel it is temporary--caused by stress and lack of care for myself--but it is still an obstacle.  And I feel guilty and ashamed that it has happened when Mama needs me the most.  Because I worry that I am not the caretaker than she is.  I'm even worried that I won't make it through surgery day physically.  And am ashamed that I might have to come home to rest while she is in the OR.  And I fear that something more dire will happen to my back again, leaving us both in recovery.

I am sorry she will feel pain and be nauseous and feel helpless and scared.  I'm sorry she has felt many of those already during the diagnosis process.

And I'm angry.  Angry that the first OB dragged her feet for months and months, which could have been literally deadly if Mama hadn't switched.   And I worry we waited because we were focused on my back. I'm angry that we had to wait 4 weeks for an appointment with the oncologist and then 4+ more weeks for the surgery, even if I'm sure that's fast and I realize how lucky we are to have wonderful insurance.  And I'm angry that I'm not living up to who I thought I would be in a crisis.  And I'm angry that I can't do the things that I want to do, that Mama can do--I'm so angry that my back hurts more now than in months and that I haven't had the power to fix it somehow.  I've even been angry that it's so damned hot, made hotter by the compression hose I have to wear because of varicose veins that developed probably due to my hyperflexible stretchiness.  You've heard the joke about the cranky spinster in the ill-fitting stockings?  It's not funny.

I am sorry that Mama and I, even in these times of tight togetherness, have moments of lonely isolation with our own fears as we cope in our own ways that can't be helped by another person, even our best friend.

I am sorry the kids have been on the receiving end of lots of stress and yelling these last few weeks and that more tension is to come.  I wish they knew it wasn't about them.

I worry that they don't understand or understand too well, as we try to balance what they know while helping them work through it.

I worry about having all the grandparents swirling around, as they have rarely spent time together, and worry how I will balance them all so that their needs and ours are met.  I worry that I will be short and snappy or worse to any or all of them while they're here and hope they know it's not about them.

I am sorry that I'm so self-absorbed right now, that I've been late mailing packages and thank-you notes and returning calls and checking up on friends whose lives have been up-ended by moves, cancer, illness, and death.  I have made meals and sent cards but have otherwise been relatively anti-social.  I worry that my friends and family are getting tired of my drama.  And I worry that I can't begin to express my deepest gratitude to the ones who have stuck by us so closely these last difficult two years.

I'm sorry that we can't be as mindful and present as we would like to be, that I haven't lived with right speech and right action, that I haven't lived the Four Noble Truths and really recognized that we create our own suffering.  I have posted about all of that but am finding it especially hard to live.  I can't even remember to meditate (or exercise or make beans, the things I know keep me going).  And I'm self-medicating with lots of Facebook and Pinterest, both of which I've joined recently to distract myself.

Yes, I'm in my head too much, I worry too much, I have unrealistic expectations, I overreact, I'm hard on myself and then on others.  And now I've posted it here.

Add in household preparations so that I can do what Mama usually does (this means things like rearranging all the household supplies that I can't reach, also the drawers so I can get out her clothes which had been in drawers too low for me, moving bags of litter to strategic places because I can't carry them), as well as preps so we can coast more smoothly the first few weeks--which includes the first day of school!--plus the kids are annoying each other after weeks together and with me, and Mama and I are trying to still make the summer and the days leading up to surgery fun and relaxing together-time!

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

So, that's the truth behind the blog, which has focused more on those fun family times than the worries behind them.  Because that's what I want us to remember when this is all over.

(Please note:  I am in therapy, so I can take care of my family and myself, and addressing all these concerns, which seem overwhelming listed altogether here but never hit me all at once.  And without my wonderful therapist, actually recommended by the good friend in the first sentence, I wouldn't be handling this as well as I am!  :) )