The Waiting

I always hate the night before news. It can be good news or bad, but I always end up anxious, and I usually end up too introspective.  Although, as I've talked to people, I wouldn't trade my overthinking for anything. :-)

Tomorrow I meet with the surgeon to talk about the pathology results, to remove my stitches, and to hopefully make a real plan.  I will say that I have had the absolute best experience with Dr. Jeffrey Paffrath in Murfreesboro.  At first, when I was coming out of surgery, I wanted all of the answers, and I wanted them NOW.  He has been incredibly thorough, but he has also let me deal with each piece one at a time--he ensured I made it through surgery and had a night's rest before giving me the diagnosis, he told me we will talk more and needed to focus on calcium, then he has called and worked with me consistently over the past week to get my calcium back in an acceptable range, and now we deal with the next part.  I will say that his confidence in dealing with all of these issues has put my mind at ease quite a bit.  And for a person that has had her world turned upside-down, I will say that was quite a relief.

I will go ahead and tell you a few things I've observed over this week. First of all, the song "Live Like You Were Dying" should now be on my forever banned playlist. And right now, I get a little teary watching the sun rise and set.  I am not sure where I'm going with that, I've always liked both the rising and setting of the sun. For some reason, it's just too much for me right now.  But that brings me to a real point...

My aunt posted a little bit ago, in response to my last post. I am annoyingly positive, and I always have to be DOING something. This helps other people that are in crisis, but it does usually leave me exhausted if it's my own trauma.  I was speaking with a friend last night, and he said something interesting. We were talking about leadership and personality styles, and how different people were. I told him I wasn't sure where I fit- I didn't mind leading, but I really enjoyed supporting others.  He had an interesting thought: he said that I have thrived in the leadership I have had, but these were positions I had out of necessity. I didn't seek them, but I needed to be able to survive, and so I made the best. I think there was quite a bit of truth to it. As much as it looks like I am Rosie the Riveter, I'd rather be the supportive June Cleaver. But the opportunities such as these have yet to arise...

Which brings me back to my original point, pertaining to my fantastic Aunt Carol: she told me to be who I am, to look for that support, and to go through these stages of grief.  I know she's right. The truth? I am in tears as I write this... It's a delicate balance between maintaining control and losing it, and when I am a mother, and a teacher, a daughter, a friend, and a supporter to others, I worry that I won't be at my best. And I worry that once I fall down, it will be really hard to come back up. Or, I won't.

I like having plans- they comfort me. I know this seems like some colossal joke then, because none of this situation really has a plan. But in an effort to operate low-energy, I do feel like a plan would help. And I feel like a plan would also let me let others help me. I know so many people ask how they could help. I don't want to inconvenience people, and I also don't know what to tell them to do. I realize now they feel as helpless as me about all of this.  Maybe with some direction, we'll all start to make it through.

When I came home from the hospital, I had to sit the children down and explain to them what had happened. It's traumatizing for young children to have their only available parent disappear to the hospital for an extended period (though my parents were absolutely GREAT to help out!), for mommy to come home a whole day later than planned, with a giant cut and stitches across her neck, and for mommy to tell them that the doctor took cancer out. I hugged them, held them, and told them I loved them dearly. I told them the doctor got all he could, and will give mommy some medicine to take in a few weeks that should eat up all the rest of the cancer cells. For children that knew mommy was just going to have an operation and come home, I know this was a lot to handle. For a few days afterward, we were all in a fog. I admittedly lost my temper easily, they cried a little more than usual, and it was really just a miracle we are all sane now.

Last night, Alex, Carly and I sat on his bed and talked about all that had happened. We had been talking over the past days, but I know the kids didn't really know what to ask. I didn't push too much before, because I didn't know if I had the energy to answer the questions (or even the answers!). Last night, I went ahead and asked him if his extra crying was dealing with mommy's cancer news, or that she's been sick in the house. Even with the help of my parents, he's sensitive to me, and seems to react when I become ill. I figured that was the reason for the moodiness, and I was right. What I found in the conversation, is that he is just like me.

He wants to help, and he needs to know what to do. We talked about ways he can work on responsibility, help mommy around the house (which gives her more energy for fun things!), and help him relax about his worries. I answered their questions, told them everything will be ok, hugged them and kissed them, and we went to bed.

I think most people are like Alex, and when they know what to do, and have a purpose in the situation, then they feel calm. I am convinced that's why churches send food when bad things happen. When life hands you lemons, then send cakes and casseroles! It's sweet how people try to ease the burden of others. It restores my faith in humanity every time I see it.

I have seen a lot of that over the past few days at school. When you teach, you are part of a pretty tight community. I will admit that I felt like an outsider when I moved to the area last year, but they quickly welcomed me. Through this year, as the tests have moved toward the direction of surgery, people have been more quick to check on me and help in any way they could. When I got the diagnosis, and I told my family, I was comfortable enough to tell my boss, because he's that easy to talk to. It made it so much easier to know it was out there, and I didn't have to sit and worry about what I would tell him. And when I returned to work, over the past few days, people have been fantastic. Students have been honestly wanting to know how I have been doing(and though it's really public, I haven't shared the specifics with many outside those that I teach), because when you see teenagers for most of their day, you become family. Coworkers have stepped up to cover my classes when I couldn't make it through the day, and I will be honest: I was grateful when my boss looked me in the eye Tuesday, knew I wouldn't make it through the day (or the next few hours), but allowed me my stubborn pride to give it a shot. The last thing I wanted was to be babied. True, I didn't make it, but at least I wanted to give it my best shot.

This might all seem like rambling, and it probably is. There have been a lot of thoughts that have been floating in my head this week. There have been great thoughts, fantastic memories, and thoughts of what I want to do differently in the future. I have started to relax a bit, which I think will let me start to move through these stages of grief a little easier. 

I definitely don't have the answers, and I really don't even have a lot of the questions right now. Sometimes I feel like I am wandering around blindly, feeling for a light switch. I feel like if I can just turn the light ON, I can start to make sense of everything. The truth is I am wondering if the light would even help. This might be something I have to feel, sight unseen.

I feel like I want to say some things, but I also feel like I shouldn't go there. I am a firm believer in letting people know how you feel about them, but I also don't want to be a crazy person that leaves my manifesto. I am by no means giving up or acting sappy. But I do think that it's a good time to acknowledge important people in my life, and all they have done for me. We don't say kind things enough to each other, and I want that to end with me now. So, here goes (and this list is by no means exhaustive- it's a work in progress):

My mother- I want to thank her for being an incredible rock. She has been strong and steady, and seems to know what I want to hear. We bicker, but that's because we are so alike. We also have more fun laughing than two people deserve to in a hospital. I am grateful she has been here to support me through this week, and really for the past years of my life. No doubt it has been a roller coaster; she has always stood strong beside me, helping me stand up after each defeat.

My father- He is such a good man. I know he is lost in this situation, because there's nothing he can really do. He looked at me Tuesday, when I looked like death. I was crying before work, because I didn't know if I could do it. He told me, "You can do it! You can be a hero right NOW!" Carly quickly corrected him, that I didn't have a cape... But he has been the most fantastic support to my children, a wonderful father, and a great role model of how a husband should be. I am thankful for moving back home, and getting this chance to get to know him better.

My brother- He moved away to Seattle to follow his dreams, which makes me more happy than anything. I am insanely proud of him, and will tell anyone that will listen. He's a fantastic friend, a great father to his children, and he really stepped up to provide a lot of support to my children when they needed it the most. I have always been close with him, because whenever we moved, we were all we had. I remember sitting in the same room, him playing video games and me reading a book. I was always comforted by his proximity. I also remember the time I paid him to wear my high heels and break them in for prom... Watching him playing video games with his legs crossed and navy blue pumps was priceless. ;-)  We still have a great sense of humor, and I appreciate that I can call to talk when I need to. And that when we go awhile without talking, it's ok.

Allison, my sister-in-law- She started dating my brother when they were sixteen, so I have known her for almost half of her life. She has always been warm, loving and supportive, but is also incredibly honest with me. I love that we can talk honestly, and still communicate well. And I also love how much she loves my children (as I do hers!), and how much she has done to help them become great human beings!  She's a great mother to her babies, and a great friend. I love her very dearly. :-)

Robin, my best friend- When I moved home to Tullahoma, I was reunited with a friend from high school. I was never a big fan of being female friends, but Robin definitely proved me wrong. I remember meeting her for coffee, and having her say "why on earth haven't we been friends all along?!?" Because I knew that God had a plan, and he knew when we needed each other. He knew I would need someone that cut through the BS, and someone that pushed me to follow my dreams. He also required that this same person keep me laughing constantly, and always go home from our meetings in happy tears. I am so glad that such a transitional period in my life was met with such a good friend. 

Scarlett, my other best friend- I would say, that for a woman that doesn't have many female friends, I was blessed over the past two years. I am beyond thrilled to have Scarlett as my friend. She has been a great coworker, a wonderful lunch buddy, and someone I can be completely honest with. I appreciate her insight, the fact that we are both moms and share thoughts on this regularly, and how appreciative she is of my trying to help. :-) I am truly blessed to work with someone that has the interest of her coworkers, her students, and her friend at heart at all times. And when we went to the special education convention together, she stayed in her own bed. That owns her bonus points. :-D

I don't want this to go on all night, so I will be sure to continue these posts. I want to tell all of the people around me how I feel. I don't think they are wasted words of affirmation. I assure you I am not high at the moment--I just know that I enjoy hearing kind words. I know that this is one gift I can give others right now.

My final words...

I have two beautiful children, Alex and Carly, that are my world. I do think if they were not in the picture, I would have already given in, and wouldn't have left the bed. I love them fiercely and wonderfully, and can see so many beautiful, wonderful things in their future. I try so hard to be a good mother, and I am happy to hear and receive so much love in return. I remember being pregnant, and having many talks with God. All I wished for with each baby? 

I wanted a child that would show so much love to the world. I was convinced that two children that intensely loved those around them could be the greatest change I could make for the world. And I am determined to help them grow, to keep that passion and fire burning bright, and to show plenty of love to all of those around them.  I am proud of their compassionate, empathetic souls, and know that I have left such a beautiful legacy so far. 

The tears are drying, and I'll assure you there have been plenty while typing this post. I needed to get out a good cry, and usually the only way I can do that is by writing honestly.  I certainly don't want anyone to feel sorry for me, but my hope is that through my honest writing, you will get a gift as well. I am a person that has quite a big wall built around herself. I think it's time for the wall to come down. It'll take time, but this will be the best way to do it. So bear with me, and know I will be writing often.

And to end, because I am a geek at heart, one of my fantastically favorite quotes. Seems fitting about now:

“I went to the woods because 

I wanted to live deliberately, 

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, 

To put to rout all that was not life 

and not when I had come to die 

Discover that I had not lived.”

 

-Henry David Thoreau

 

And no, I will not be camping anytime in the foreseeable future... LOL