Things seem to be moving quickly. I talked to mom this morning and she sounded confused and anxious. I kind of had to talk her down on the phone. I was a mess when I hung up. Later today I had a long talk with dad. Probably the longest talk he and I have had in years. He is under so much stress. I'm so worried about him. I'm heading up tomorrow so he can get a few hours reprieve. He hasn't even been out to get groceries. Mom needs 24/7 care now. I told him we'd talk about Michael and I setting a schedule and maybe getting Hospice to help out or bringing in some other care givers now and then.
Although, it doesn't sound like mom is even going to be lucid much longer. Her pain is increasing. Dad had to give her 3 oxycodone in an hour today. He said he was so worried because he couldn't make the pain go away for mom. He has so much on his shoulders. Hospice is coming by tomorrow and going to get dad meds that last 12 hours instead of 4. Ultimately though, we may be looking at constant IV meds through mom's port. All of this means she's basically be unconscious.
This is all just so wrong and ugly. I hate this damn disease. I hate what it's doing to my mom. Dad was so upset tonight and said mom doesn't deserve this. He's right. No one deserves the way this disease takes you. And what it does to all those left behind in it's wake. It's horrible. Truly horrible.
I'm terrified about tomorrow. It's been about 3 weeks since I've seen mom and her hospice nurse has warned me that there is nothing to her. Somehow I have to hold it together as much as I can tomorrow. But it is not going to be easy.
I'm finding myself falling apart at random times during the day. In the shower, drying my hair, driving to work. There doesn't even have to be a trigger. Something hits me out of the blue and I fall apart. I taught class tonight and am amazed at how I can laugh and put on a brave face. No one would know my mom was dying. But then as soon as everyone clears out, I feel so lost. It all comes rushing back. God, I don't want her to die. It hurts so much!
I don't know how to live my life while my mom is dying. I just don't. I want it to stop. I want the world to stop rotating so I can just be with my mom. And I'm so angry I can't do that.
I guess I'm just angry and sad and hurt and scared in general. This is just so horrific. How do I go on without my mom? I just don't know how to do it.
Damn, it just all hurts so much.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Day 202: Overwhelming Sadness
So, this is my 100th post in this blog. I slowed down a lot as mom improved and now I think I'm probably back to daily or close to daily posts again.
I talked to mom's hospice nurse today. I've talked to her a lot over the past few months. Today is the first time I heard her sad on the phone. She told me that she thinks mom has about a month left, maybe a little longer. But the reality is that that is mom's physical body. Her mind is already going. She is confused. Her mental facilities have declined an incredible amount in the past week and a half. She is not supposed to be left alone from here on out. That puts an enormous amount of pressure on my dad. Michael and I will have to figure out a way to make sure he is getting some relief. He needs to get out of the house. My plan will be to go up there at a minimum of one day a week to relieve dad for a few hours, but hopefully I can do a couple of days a week, or Michael can take a day now and then.
I mentioned to mom's hospice nurse that I'd told mom and dad to call me anytime and I would be there, but that I knew they probably wouldn't take me up on that. I mentioned that I didn't know if I should just show up on their doorstep uninvited. And she told me that this is the time to show up at the door. That said a lot to me. So, I'm going up Friday and will go up again on Sunday and will make a plan for next week from there. Of course, I have a client due in here too so that may change things a little, but I just have to believe it will all work as it should.
I talked to dad this afternoon and he said that the hospice bath aid had been there for about an hour and a half and had given mom a sponge bath and washed her hair and made mom feel so much better. And a hospice volunteer had been out and spent two hours weeding. I am so grateful for hospice. If any of you reading this ever need a place to donate money, please consider your local hospice organization. It's an incredible service.
I had a moment of reflection today as a local acquaintance of mine just posted on her blog about her son. He has been battling cancer for some time. He's 13. And this week the tumors in his brain came back and there is no more treatment for him. I am so lost and sad over the loss of my mother, but I cannot even fathom losing my child. We're supposed to lose our parents. We are not supposed to lose our children. It put things in a bit of a perspective for me, even though it doesn't necessarily lessen my pain. I also learned yesterday that another friend had a family member diagnosed with cancer and every time I hear it it makes me SO mad. We have to figure out what is doing this to us. Is it technology...our cell phones, our tvs and microwaves and computers? Or is it our food and the fillers? We just have to figure it out. I don't want my kids growing up in a world so filled with cancer.
But for now, my focus is on mom and dad. I took the boys to the zoo today. We needed an outlet. It was a beautiful morning and watching my kids at the zoo gave me moments of happiness and laughter. We all needed that. Tomorrow is homeschool bowling and I teach tomorrow night. Friday we'll head up and spend a few hours at my parents. Saturday I teach all day and then Sunday I'll head back up. Somewhere in here I'll be birthing. I have assignments and 2 papers due. There are moments when it is all so overwhelming. I have been staring at my paper that needs to be edited for about 2 hours today and can't seem to come up with anything. But I'll push through. That's what my mom taught me. This too shall pass. Except, honestly, I know when all this passes, my mom will be gone. And that doesn't make things seem any better at all.
I talked to mom's hospice nurse today. I've talked to her a lot over the past few months. Today is the first time I heard her sad on the phone. She told me that she thinks mom has about a month left, maybe a little longer. But the reality is that that is mom's physical body. Her mind is already going. She is confused. Her mental facilities have declined an incredible amount in the past week and a half. She is not supposed to be left alone from here on out. That puts an enormous amount of pressure on my dad. Michael and I will have to figure out a way to make sure he is getting some relief. He needs to get out of the house. My plan will be to go up there at a minimum of one day a week to relieve dad for a few hours, but hopefully I can do a couple of days a week, or Michael can take a day now and then.
I mentioned to mom's hospice nurse that I'd told mom and dad to call me anytime and I would be there, but that I knew they probably wouldn't take me up on that. I mentioned that I didn't know if I should just show up on their doorstep uninvited. And she told me that this is the time to show up at the door. That said a lot to me. So, I'm going up Friday and will go up again on Sunday and will make a plan for next week from there. Of course, I have a client due in here too so that may change things a little, but I just have to believe it will all work as it should.
I talked to dad this afternoon and he said that the hospice bath aid had been there for about an hour and a half and had given mom a sponge bath and washed her hair and made mom feel so much better. And a hospice volunteer had been out and spent two hours weeding. I am so grateful for hospice. If any of you reading this ever need a place to donate money, please consider your local hospice organization. It's an incredible service.
I had a moment of reflection today as a local acquaintance of mine just posted on her blog about her son. He has been battling cancer for some time. He's 13. And this week the tumors in his brain came back and there is no more treatment for him. I am so lost and sad over the loss of my mother, but I cannot even fathom losing my child. We're supposed to lose our parents. We are not supposed to lose our children. It put things in a bit of a perspective for me, even though it doesn't necessarily lessen my pain. I also learned yesterday that another friend had a family member diagnosed with cancer and every time I hear it it makes me SO mad. We have to figure out what is doing this to us. Is it technology...our cell phones, our tvs and microwaves and computers? Or is it our food and the fillers? We just have to figure it out. I don't want my kids growing up in a world so filled with cancer.
But for now, my focus is on mom and dad. I took the boys to the zoo today. We needed an outlet. It was a beautiful morning and watching my kids at the zoo gave me moments of happiness and laughter. We all needed that. Tomorrow is homeschool bowling and I teach tomorrow night. Friday we'll head up and spend a few hours at my parents. Saturday I teach all day and then Sunday I'll head back up. Somewhere in here I'll be birthing. I have assignments and 2 papers due. There are moments when it is all so overwhelming. I have been staring at my paper that needs to be edited for about 2 hours today and can't seem to come up with anything. But I'll push through. That's what my mom taught me. This too shall pass. Except, honestly, I know when all this passes, my mom will be gone. And that doesn't make things seem any better at all.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Day 201: The Beginning of The End
It looks like I wasn't wrong. As much as I wanted to be, I wasn't. Mom has been steadily declining since my last post. And I have been in a place where I couldn't even figure out how to string two words together in order to make this post.
The good times are over. Mom's hospice nurse saw her today and, although not saying it in direct words, told mom and dad that this is probably as good as it is going to get. I have talked to mom and dad 4 times a day for the past week and I can hear the progression just over the phone. Tonight mom sounded terrible. I can hear fluid in her lungs. She is declining so fast.
And yet, as her Hospice nurse said today, Mom hasn't been a classic case. She was dying and then miraculously (truly miraculously) she got better. The hospital bed and the commode and the walker and the wheelchair were all taken away. Mom and dad went to the casino, they visited with friends and family, they went out to dinner. And it was an incredible blessing. Our family was given the gift of time. I got about 170 more days with my mom than I thought I was going to have. Dad and I discussed that blessing tonight and then he said, through tears, "I just wish it could have been more." I asked him if he was okay, my voice cracking, trying to hold back my own tears. He said he thought he was and that he just hoped he was strong enough to handle what was to come.
And when we hung up, it came. From deep down inside it bubbled to the surface and I cried. It was a wail actually. The pain was overwhelming. I couldn't breathe. It was pain and fear and sadness and anger all muddled together. Olly heard me from across the house and came in to hold me. It's the only thing that helped me compose myself. But I know there is so much more to come.
Right now I don't know if mom has hours or days or weeks or months left. All I know is that in whatever time she has left, I need her not to suffer. I can't stand it. Dad said tonight what I've been thinking for days...basically that he hopes it goes fast...for mom's sake. And then he said, "maybe I shouldn't think that way" and I told him I completely understood. How do you wish for someone to die and want them never to die at the same time?
The wheelchair and the walker are coming back. They are signs of something I don't want to see. Don't want to admit.
I have a client due and I want to be at that birth. I need to see a baby born. The circle of life and all of that...Plus, I don't want to let my client down. At the same time I don't know how I just keep going day to day, doing schoolwork, teaching classes, attending births, cleaning the house, etc., etc., etc. when my mom is dying. I want the world to stop. I want it all just to stop so I can focus solely on my mom and dad. But it doesn't work that way. If I stop working, I'll be living out of a box. So, I keep going. I keep trying to find some sort of joy in my days. But always, ALWAYS, in the back of my mind is the constant thought...My mom is dying. This isn't going to get better this time. Unfortunately, it's only going to get worse.
All the reality is setting in. You'd think that would have already happened, but the mind is really an amazing thing. It knew that mom was dying, but it let me live in the happy world where things were okay. I didn't have to go to the scary side as long as the happy world existed.
Now, there is no happy world to go to. Now the reality is staring me in the face. Now every phone call to mom and dad ends with overwhelming sadness. Now Michael and I have to talk to dad about how he wants to handle things from here. We need to help him. And somehow we need to help ourselves. I honestly don't know how to be a Mother and a Childbirth Educator and a Doula and a student AND lose my mom. I don't know how to do it. And yet, from past experience, I guess I just keep putting one foot in front of the other and I keep moving forward.
Last spring, shortly after mom was diagnosed, I was hired to be a Doula for a lovely woman named Kelly. We chatted a bit as we got to know one another and I learned that her mom, Nancy, had died many years previously from Leukemia. I remember the shock I felt at the time. I remember just knowing I was supposed to be her Doula. Her daughter was born in July and her middle name is Nancy. Kelly knows I've been struggling as of late and sent me an e-mail of support yesterday. In it she said, "Losing one's mother is as transforming as coming into the world with her." Although I haven't quite passed over that threshhold, I am certain she is right. Today as I was recovering from my eruption of emotions, I said to Olly that I don't know how anyone goes about living on this earth without their mother. I know people do it every day. But, as of right this moment, I don't understand it. This is the woman who gave me life. Of course, one day I knew she would die, but not this early and now I know, I would never have been ready. How do you say goodbye to someone who gave you everything you have?
I don't know how to end this. I don't know a perfect ending for a post entitled The beginning of the end. Part of me doesn't even want to end it because posting it makes it all real. But that's what this blog was for...my own personal therapy.
I did find my mom in the last 201 days. I was able to heal wounds inside of me that needed to be healed. I didn't need explanations or answers as I thought I did. I didn't need anything, but the time I received. My entire life I wondered why my mom had me when she didn't ever seem to want kids. It has been a theme throughout my life. I don't need those answers anymore. I truly don't. All I need to know is that she gave me my life. She sacrificed so incredibly much for me. And I know without a doubt, without an inkling of a doubt now, that she loves me. I wish I had taken the time to truly understand all of that before. I will probably forever regret the times I didn't spend with her. But I was given these past 200 days to understand. What I don't understand is why she has to leave now? Why? Why give me the answers I needed only to take her away from me? Why?
Mom is going. Before her physical body gives out, her mind most likely will. And although I might still be able to hold her hand, she won't be able to respond to me. But, tonight, as in every phone call over the past few months, she said to me, through a rattling voice, "Kelli, I love you." That's all she could say. And that's all I needed to hear. And as I've repeated over and over for the past few months, I said, while holding back tears, "I love you Mom." I know she loves me and I know she knows I love her. But like my dad, I just wish we had more time to continue to tell each other that.
The good times are over. Mom's hospice nurse saw her today and, although not saying it in direct words, told mom and dad that this is probably as good as it is going to get. I have talked to mom and dad 4 times a day for the past week and I can hear the progression just over the phone. Tonight mom sounded terrible. I can hear fluid in her lungs. She is declining so fast.
And yet, as her Hospice nurse said today, Mom hasn't been a classic case. She was dying and then miraculously (truly miraculously) she got better. The hospital bed and the commode and the walker and the wheelchair were all taken away. Mom and dad went to the casino, they visited with friends and family, they went out to dinner. And it was an incredible blessing. Our family was given the gift of time. I got about 170 more days with my mom than I thought I was going to have. Dad and I discussed that blessing tonight and then he said, through tears, "I just wish it could have been more." I asked him if he was okay, my voice cracking, trying to hold back my own tears. He said he thought he was and that he just hoped he was strong enough to handle what was to come.
And when we hung up, it came. From deep down inside it bubbled to the surface and I cried. It was a wail actually. The pain was overwhelming. I couldn't breathe. It was pain and fear and sadness and anger all muddled together. Olly heard me from across the house and came in to hold me. It's the only thing that helped me compose myself. But I know there is so much more to come.
Right now I don't know if mom has hours or days or weeks or months left. All I know is that in whatever time she has left, I need her not to suffer. I can't stand it. Dad said tonight what I've been thinking for days...basically that he hopes it goes fast...for mom's sake. And then he said, "maybe I shouldn't think that way" and I told him I completely understood. How do you wish for someone to die and want them never to die at the same time?
The wheelchair and the walker are coming back. They are signs of something I don't want to see. Don't want to admit.
I have a client due and I want to be at that birth. I need to see a baby born. The circle of life and all of that...Plus, I don't want to let my client down. At the same time I don't know how I just keep going day to day, doing schoolwork, teaching classes, attending births, cleaning the house, etc., etc., etc. when my mom is dying. I want the world to stop. I want it all just to stop so I can focus solely on my mom and dad. But it doesn't work that way. If I stop working, I'll be living out of a box. So, I keep going. I keep trying to find some sort of joy in my days. But always, ALWAYS, in the back of my mind is the constant thought...My mom is dying. This isn't going to get better this time. Unfortunately, it's only going to get worse.
All the reality is setting in. You'd think that would have already happened, but the mind is really an amazing thing. It knew that mom was dying, but it let me live in the happy world where things were okay. I didn't have to go to the scary side as long as the happy world existed.
Now, there is no happy world to go to. Now the reality is staring me in the face. Now every phone call to mom and dad ends with overwhelming sadness. Now Michael and I have to talk to dad about how he wants to handle things from here. We need to help him. And somehow we need to help ourselves. I honestly don't know how to be a Mother and a Childbirth Educator and a Doula and a student AND lose my mom. I don't know how to do it. And yet, from past experience, I guess I just keep putting one foot in front of the other and I keep moving forward.
Last spring, shortly after mom was diagnosed, I was hired to be a Doula for a lovely woman named Kelly. We chatted a bit as we got to know one another and I learned that her mom, Nancy, had died many years previously from Leukemia. I remember the shock I felt at the time. I remember just knowing I was supposed to be her Doula. Her daughter was born in July and her middle name is Nancy. Kelly knows I've been struggling as of late and sent me an e-mail of support yesterday. In it she said, "Losing one's mother is as transforming as coming into the world with her." Although I haven't quite passed over that threshhold, I am certain she is right. Today as I was recovering from my eruption of emotions, I said to Olly that I don't know how anyone goes about living on this earth without their mother. I know people do it every day. But, as of right this moment, I don't understand it. This is the woman who gave me life. Of course, one day I knew she would die, but not this early and now I know, I would never have been ready. How do you say goodbye to someone who gave you everything you have?
I don't know how to end this. I don't know a perfect ending for a post entitled The beginning of the end. Part of me doesn't even want to end it because posting it makes it all real. But that's what this blog was for...my own personal therapy.
I did find my mom in the last 201 days. I was able to heal wounds inside of me that needed to be healed. I didn't need explanations or answers as I thought I did. I didn't need anything, but the time I received. My entire life I wondered why my mom had me when she didn't ever seem to want kids. It has been a theme throughout my life. I don't need those answers anymore. I truly don't. All I need to know is that she gave me my life. She sacrificed so incredibly much for me. And I know without a doubt, without an inkling of a doubt now, that she loves me. I wish I had taken the time to truly understand all of that before. I will probably forever regret the times I didn't spend with her. But I was given these past 200 days to understand. What I don't understand is why she has to leave now? Why? Why give me the answers I needed only to take her away from me? Why?
Mom is going. Before her physical body gives out, her mind most likely will. And although I might still be able to hold her hand, she won't be able to respond to me. But, tonight, as in every phone call over the past few months, she said to me, through a rattling voice, "Kelli, I love you." That's all she could say. And that's all I needed to hear. And as I've repeated over and over for the past few months, I said, while holding back tears, "I love you Mom." I know she loves me and I know she knows I love her. But like my dad, I just wish we had more time to continue to tell each other that.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Day 196: I hope I'm wrong
God, I so hope I'm wrong! I hope that the pain in mom's back that is keeping her up at night is actually just a strained muscle from weeding. It's what dad wants to believe. It's what Michael wants to believe. But my gut is telling me that's not what this is. And hospice is telling me the same thing.
A little back story on this week. On Sunday mom went out and did about an hour of weeding. She came in and was hurting and realized she can't do things she used to do. She had some aches for a couple of days but nothing major. Then Wednesday morning I called her and could instantly hear something was up. She said she wasn't very good and that she hadn't slept much because her back was really hurting. She sounded exhausted. She said she had finally taken an anti-anxiety pill early in the morning and got some sleep with that, but she really sounded uncomfortable and distressed. I suggested she call Hospice and she said they were planning to do that. Then the day went on and I checked in again and mom sounded better. They hadn't called Hospice and were going to see how Wednesday night went. Dad bought some Tylenol PM for mom. He had a once-a-year Kiwanis event to go to and originally wasn't going to go, but finally decided to go since mom was feeling better. I told them to call me in the middle of the night if necessary.
This morning I called at 9am and mom answered the phone pretty groggy. Turns out she was still in bed which isn't like her at all. She had another bad night. She said they'd be calling Hospice today. Their nurse, Ruth came by around 11am and showed dad how to administer the morphine and gave mom a half dose which did nothing for her pain. Then they gave her another half dose and Ruth gave dad a prescription for Oxycontin to pick up for mom.
As I received all this information from mom and dad, I couldn't compose myself on the phone. Mind you, I cry a lot after getting off the phone with mom, but I try not to let she or dad hear it on the phone. I couldn't help it today. Dad said they weren't trying to make me cry, but just wanted me to know what was going on. I told them I've been crying for 6 months now and that I wanted to know everything. Dad said that Ruth thought that maybe the cancer has spread or mom's tumor has grown considerably. That was my concern as well.
But then dad said that maybe it's just some back pain. I had a hard time reconciling the idea of Oxycontin and Morphine for some regular back pain, but I didn't say that. I called and spoke to Ruth myself later this afternoon. We talked for some time. She said anything is possible, but that she doesn't feel like this is just back pain. We discussed how we go forward making mom comfortable. How we keep increasing the dosage until we find the one that keeps her comfortable, but perhaps not lucid. I told her I was worried about my dad and that I felt like my brother and I needed to talk to him about how he wants to handle all this. And she told me, "I think now is the time to talk." I keep hearing that sentence reverberating in my head.
I called Michael after I spoke to Ruth and we both decided that we'll make a trip to mom and dad's on Sunday. Mom and dad were supposed to drive up and see Michael & Kiersten on Sunday but that doesn't seem like it's going to happen so we're changing plans.
Today, I also picked up the cd with all the 8mm films on it. I sat in front of my computer and cried for about an hour. I had never seen some of those films. They date back to 1964. Both sets of grandparents are on it. Lots of family. Lots of me and Michael. But the ones that really got to me were films of parties and dancing and I saw my mom and dad in their late 20s and in love. I saw my dad look at my mom the way I saw him look at her two weeks ago at the hospital. Did I just miss those looks all these years? Did I not see them because they are my parents? To sit and stare at my young parents dancing on my computer was both lovely and heartbreaking at the same time. How does my dad say goodbye to her??? How are they doing this?
And today Olly left until Sunday. His sister is getting married on Saturday. I'm supposed to drive over to Moses Lake for the wedding and come straight back. I haven't decided if I'm going to go or not. I'm going to see how tomorrow plays out. I had to teach tonight and I don't remember the drive there or back. I hardly remember class. I don't know about me driving for 6 hours with my kids in the car. But I'll make that decision sometime tomorrow.
Tonight I have no desire to sleep. I'm just going to sit up and watch TV. Possibly with a glass of wine. On top of all of this, I have papers due and a client due and I'm feeling wiped out and overwhelmed. I just want the rest of the world to stop so I can be with my mom. Why doesn't it work that way? How do we just keep going? I was sitting at the birth center tonight, putting labels on dividers in a 3 ring notebook and I thought to myself, "how can I sit here and do such a mundane task while my mom may be in pain?" It doesn't make sense. I'm sitting here right now wondering if mom is sleeping or suffering. Wondering if my dad is sleeping or trying to get my mom out of pain. I told them to call me. Mom promised she would, but I know they don't want to worry me. So, tonight I sit up alone with much on my mind and nothing I can do about any of it right this minute.
And all I keep thinking is how I hope I am wrong. How I have never before in my life wanted to be so wrong.
A little back story on this week. On Sunday mom went out and did about an hour of weeding. She came in and was hurting and realized she can't do things she used to do. She had some aches for a couple of days but nothing major. Then Wednesday morning I called her and could instantly hear something was up. She said she wasn't very good and that she hadn't slept much because her back was really hurting. She sounded exhausted. She said she had finally taken an anti-anxiety pill early in the morning and got some sleep with that, but she really sounded uncomfortable and distressed. I suggested she call Hospice and she said they were planning to do that. Then the day went on and I checked in again and mom sounded better. They hadn't called Hospice and were going to see how Wednesday night went. Dad bought some Tylenol PM for mom. He had a once-a-year Kiwanis event to go to and originally wasn't going to go, but finally decided to go since mom was feeling better. I told them to call me in the middle of the night if necessary.
This morning I called at 9am and mom answered the phone pretty groggy. Turns out she was still in bed which isn't like her at all. She had another bad night. She said they'd be calling Hospice today. Their nurse, Ruth came by around 11am and showed dad how to administer the morphine and gave mom a half dose which did nothing for her pain. Then they gave her another half dose and Ruth gave dad a prescription for Oxycontin to pick up for mom.
As I received all this information from mom and dad, I couldn't compose myself on the phone. Mind you, I cry a lot after getting off the phone with mom, but I try not to let she or dad hear it on the phone. I couldn't help it today. Dad said they weren't trying to make me cry, but just wanted me to know what was going on. I told them I've been crying for 6 months now and that I wanted to know everything. Dad said that Ruth thought that maybe the cancer has spread or mom's tumor has grown considerably. That was my concern as well.
But then dad said that maybe it's just some back pain. I had a hard time reconciling the idea of Oxycontin and Morphine for some regular back pain, but I didn't say that. I called and spoke to Ruth myself later this afternoon. We talked for some time. She said anything is possible, but that she doesn't feel like this is just back pain. We discussed how we go forward making mom comfortable. How we keep increasing the dosage until we find the one that keeps her comfortable, but perhaps not lucid. I told her I was worried about my dad and that I felt like my brother and I needed to talk to him about how he wants to handle all this. And she told me, "I think now is the time to talk." I keep hearing that sentence reverberating in my head.
I called Michael after I spoke to Ruth and we both decided that we'll make a trip to mom and dad's on Sunday. Mom and dad were supposed to drive up and see Michael & Kiersten on Sunday but that doesn't seem like it's going to happen so we're changing plans.
Today, I also picked up the cd with all the 8mm films on it. I sat in front of my computer and cried for about an hour. I had never seen some of those films. They date back to 1964. Both sets of grandparents are on it. Lots of family. Lots of me and Michael. But the ones that really got to me were films of parties and dancing and I saw my mom and dad in their late 20s and in love. I saw my dad look at my mom the way I saw him look at her two weeks ago at the hospital. Did I just miss those looks all these years? Did I not see them because they are my parents? To sit and stare at my young parents dancing on my computer was both lovely and heartbreaking at the same time. How does my dad say goodbye to her??? How are they doing this?
And today Olly left until Sunday. His sister is getting married on Saturday. I'm supposed to drive over to Moses Lake for the wedding and come straight back. I haven't decided if I'm going to go or not. I'm going to see how tomorrow plays out. I had to teach tonight and I don't remember the drive there or back. I hardly remember class. I don't know about me driving for 6 hours with my kids in the car. But I'll make that decision sometime tomorrow.
Tonight I have no desire to sleep. I'm just going to sit up and watch TV. Possibly with a glass of wine. On top of all of this, I have papers due and a client due and I'm feeling wiped out and overwhelmed. I just want the rest of the world to stop so I can be with my mom. Why doesn't it work that way? How do we just keep going? I was sitting at the birth center tonight, putting labels on dividers in a 3 ring notebook and I thought to myself, "how can I sit here and do such a mundane task while my mom may be in pain?" It doesn't make sense. I'm sitting here right now wondering if mom is sleeping or suffering. Wondering if my dad is sleeping or trying to get my mom out of pain. I told them to call me. Mom promised she would, but I know they don't want to worry me. So, tonight I sit up alone with much on my mind and nothing I can do about any of it right this minute.
And all I keep thinking is how I hope I am wrong. How I have never before in my life wanted to be so wrong.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Day 191: One foot in front of the other
Wow, day 191! In some ways I am so happy and grateful and in other ways I am still so incredibly sad. When I started this blog, I was not sure I would even see 50 days. And here we are at day 191. I have had so much more time with my mom than I anticipated and for that, I truly am grateful. But the reality is, it is day 191 of a blog about my mom dying and, in all honesty, I hate that.
Things continue to be taking us down a declining road. I can "feel" it when I talk to my parents. I'm fairly certain mom feels it too. As does dad. Hospice knows as well. They call and visit more often lately.
It's an odd place to be right now. This "anticipatory grief" is agonizing, although I still prefer it over the "real grief" that will come after mom is gone. Nonetheless, mom, dad, Michael and I are starting to live our lives as though we are planning for an event. And I guess, in some sense, we are. You know, when there is a wedding or birthday party or baby shower in the works, you make plans. You send out invitations. You order flowers. You find your venue, etc., Well, that's kind of our life right now, except we're planning a funeral. Mom and dad have been trying to put together mom's obituary which has proved harder than they thought. I told mom last weekend that as long as we had the pertinent info, we'd make sure it got done the way she wanted and she could quit worrying about it. Mom and dad visited the Catholic cemetery in Seattle where mom's final resting place will be. They had purchased everything there years ago but had never seen it. Mom said it was beautiful. And then proceeded to tell me they had to call the mortuary and talk to their priest, blah, blah, blah. I hear it all, but my brain wants to shut it out.
I know I will appreciate not having to do all of this on the fly after mom is gone. But doing it ahead of time isn't all that easy either.
I brought home all of mom's photo albums so I could start working on a video for the funeral. I know I won't be able to speak. And thankfully Michael knows that too as he is working on a eulogy. Just thinking of my brother getting up and speaking at my mom's funeral tears me to pieces inside. But it's where we are right now.
As I've said before, we continue to live our lives. I do all the things I need to do. Plus I've added in my own school now too. This week felt fairly overwhelming, but I continue to make it through. It's what human beings do.
Of course, yesterday when mom told me that dad was visiting his neurologist because she had been noticing some changes in him, I nearly crumbled again. My greatest fear is that my dad is going to die right after my mom and to hear that his Parkinson's may be acting up was just too much for me yesterday. But thankfully, his neurologist doesn't feel like it's all necessarily Parkinson's related, but stress related. He gave my dad another prescription that will hopefully give him some energy back. And I'm trying to just let those fears go for now. I know they don't do anything good for me. I have people reminding me of that as well. But it's a lot easier said than done.
And so, we keep putting one foot in front of the other. We keep traveling down this road ultimately knowing how it ends, just not when. Fall is here. The weather is changing. The holidays are coming. And I try not to think about them. I want to believe my mom will be here. And I guess right now, all I can do is believe that what will be, will be. Just like my mom always taught me.
Things continue to be taking us down a declining road. I can "feel" it when I talk to my parents. I'm fairly certain mom feels it too. As does dad. Hospice knows as well. They call and visit more often lately.
It's an odd place to be right now. This "anticipatory grief" is agonizing, although I still prefer it over the "real grief" that will come after mom is gone. Nonetheless, mom, dad, Michael and I are starting to live our lives as though we are planning for an event. And I guess, in some sense, we are. You know, when there is a wedding or birthday party or baby shower in the works, you make plans. You send out invitations. You order flowers. You find your venue, etc., Well, that's kind of our life right now, except we're planning a funeral. Mom and dad have been trying to put together mom's obituary which has proved harder than they thought. I told mom last weekend that as long as we had the pertinent info, we'd make sure it got done the way she wanted and she could quit worrying about it. Mom and dad visited the Catholic cemetery in Seattle where mom's final resting place will be. They had purchased everything there years ago but had never seen it. Mom said it was beautiful. And then proceeded to tell me they had to call the mortuary and talk to their priest, blah, blah, blah. I hear it all, but my brain wants to shut it out.
I know I will appreciate not having to do all of this on the fly after mom is gone. But doing it ahead of time isn't all that easy either.
I brought home all of mom's photo albums so I could start working on a video for the funeral. I know I won't be able to speak. And thankfully Michael knows that too as he is working on a eulogy. Just thinking of my brother getting up and speaking at my mom's funeral tears me to pieces inside. But it's where we are right now.
As I've said before, we continue to live our lives. I do all the things I need to do. Plus I've added in my own school now too. This week felt fairly overwhelming, but I continue to make it through. It's what human beings do.
Of course, yesterday when mom told me that dad was visiting his neurologist because she had been noticing some changes in him, I nearly crumbled again. My greatest fear is that my dad is going to die right after my mom and to hear that his Parkinson's may be acting up was just too much for me yesterday. But thankfully, his neurologist doesn't feel like it's all necessarily Parkinson's related, but stress related. He gave my dad another prescription that will hopefully give him some energy back. And I'm trying to just let those fears go for now. I know they don't do anything good for me. I have people reminding me of that as well. But it's a lot easier said than done.
And so, we keep putting one foot in front of the other. We keep traveling down this road ultimately knowing how it ends, just not when. Fall is here. The weather is changing. The holidays are coming. And I try not to think about them. I want to believe my mom will be here. And I guess right now, all I can do is believe that what will be, will be. Just like my mom always taught me.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Day 183: Reality
Today has been an incredibly long day.
This week mom's fluid has been building quickly. She took her first anti-anxiety meds this week because she was finding it harder and harder to eat because her stomach was compressed by the fluid. Then it was getting harder and harder to breathe. She's having some other physical ailments as well.
That first medication was tough for me. It signified so much more than one simple little pill. It signified the turning of events.
Now, let me say, my emotions are absolutely raw. With Olly's grandma dying last week, I think things really hit too close to home. I'm not sleeping well. I'm not eating well. The only thing I'm doing well is studying and working out. Of course, the studying is adding some major stress and I'm feeling incredibly overwhelmed by everything right now.
So, I'm raw. But the build up of this week brought me to today. And it was hard.
I have had to compose myself for the past several days every time I got off the phone with mom. I can just hear the change in her. She's trying to fake it, but I can hear it.
This morning mom said she and dad had been talking and felt like I didn't need to come over for the next draining. I told her that if she didn't want me there, I wouldn't come but that if she was just doing it because she felt bad about me driving, then she had to let me make that decision. She said she absolutely loved having me there and that wasn't it at all, but she just felt bad for the boys having to sit there and me driving, etc. I told her that I got to make that decision and if I felt like it was too much, I would let her know. She didn't even argue. She just said ok. Honestly, I don't think she meant a word of it when she said she'd be okay without me. Well, I know she would be okay. But I also know it helps for her to have me there. So, things will remain the same. I have certainly learned where I get my need to never put anyone out though! I do the exact same thing with all my friends, "No, no...I'm fine." I never want anyone to have to go out of their way for me. I apparently learned from the best when it comes to that.
After my call today I decided I needed to call her Hospice nurse to either verify or deny what I've been thinking. I suppose I wanted her to tell me it was all in my head, but I wasn't surprised when she told me she thinks I'm right.
Her nurse told me she also believes things are changing. She says mom is so small, there's so little left of her. She says she feels like mom is starting to exhibit some fear about things which tends to be a sign that someone knows things are changing inside of them. She also said that the time may come when the fluid can't continue to be drained. It can't be done very close together because it's bad on mom's kidneys and liver. So, once it gets to the point of needing to be drained closer together, we actually have to stop draining it. And then just try to make mom comfortable. This terrifies me. Absolutely terrifies me.
So, cut to the hospital today. There was a mix up and we ended up sitting in the waiting room longer than we had all anticipated. While we sat there mom and dad started talking to me about stuff I didn't want to talk about in the waiting room at the hospital. They told me they have an appointment at the cemetery next week because they've never been there yet. They're being interned at the Catholic cemetery in Seattle. They've paid for everything and everything is in place, but they have yet to go out there. They talked about it like they were going out for dinner. They talked about the cremation and the service at the church. And my head was screaming, "STOP! PLEASE STOP!"
I realized then that this is their life. These are the conversations they have together. And it ripped my heart out of my chest and tore it into little pieces. It hurt so much to imagine them sitting at home together discussing all this. Of course, I knew they probably had, but the idea that they made an appointment to go to the cemetery was just too much reality for me today.
Mom and I finally went back to the radiology room. It was almost a welcome respite from the conversation. Things went a little better than last week, although the color of the fluid was the same as last time. I now know it wasn't blood. It's simply the color the fluid. The tech today wrote down "Strawberry" for color. They only had to turn her once to keep the draining. But that's still different than it was for the several times previous to the one 3 weeks ago. Mom had taken an anti-anxiety pill beforehand which I actually think did help her state of mind. I'm thinking I could have used one too. :-O
After the draining was done, mom felt so much better. She was sitting on the side of the bed waiting for the tech to find a wheelchair when she looked at me and said, "I'm so lucky to have you." I never know how to respond to that. I just smile and say I'm glad I can be there. Then she told me she found a picture for her obituary but still needs one to blow up for the funeral. I couldn't even talk. I had to look down and try to keep the tears from flowing. I KNOW I have to have these conversations. But I wasn't prepared today. And I wasn't prepared for them being just like a conversation about anything else.
I then wheeled mom out to the main entrance and we went through our drill of waiting for dad to go get the car. Just before he left, he reached for mom's hand and gave her a quick kiss. She grabbed his hand with both her hands and for a moment they just smiled at one another. No words were exchanged but so much was said. It was the most beautiful thing and it broke my heart at the same time. It will be a moment I don't think I'll ever forget.
I had a 2 hour drive home and then had an appointment with a client tonight and had to finish up birthday shopping for Jonathan. I also have been trying to find canned pumpkin which apparently every store is out of! I had planned to make mom a pumpkin pie for her anniversary, but unless I find pumpkin, I'm out of luck. I am making a cake for both their anniversary and Jonathan's birthday and we'll be celebrating all of that on Sunday. Then Monday is Jonathan's actual birthday and the boys and I are going to the Puyallup Fair.
I plan to pick up mom's photo albums on Sunday and starting putting together a collage of pictures that I can put up for her when the time comes and she is more bed ridden. I want happy memories for her to see every time she opens her eyes.
So, I guess I'm planning ahead too. In my own way. No matter how much I hate it.
It's been a long day. And I'm going to be up for a while studying tonight. I imagine there will continue to be several moments of breaking down still tonight. I feel like I'm living in this strange world that is nothing like what I remember it being. I still cannot imagine this world without my mom. My brain can't get there. I don't know that it ever will.
This weekend is about celebrating though. So, I'm trying to get myself to that place where I can celebrate my parent's 51st anniversary and my son's 11th birthday. It's odd celebrating in the face of impending sorrow (or perhaps current sorrow), but that's what we humans do. It's how we go on. It's just not always easy.
This week mom's fluid has been building quickly. She took her first anti-anxiety meds this week because she was finding it harder and harder to eat because her stomach was compressed by the fluid. Then it was getting harder and harder to breathe. She's having some other physical ailments as well.
That first medication was tough for me. It signified so much more than one simple little pill. It signified the turning of events.
Now, let me say, my emotions are absolutely raw. With Olly's grandma dying last week, I think things really hit too close to home. I'm not sleeping well. I'm not eating well. The only thing I'm doing well is studying and working out. Of course, the studying is adding some major stress and I'm feeling incredibly overwhelmed by everything right now.
So, I'm raw. But the build up of this week brought me to today. And it was hard.
I have had to compose myself for the past several days every time I got off the phone with mom. I can just hear the change in her. She's trying to fake it, but I can hear it.
This morning mom said she and dad had been talking and felt like I didn't need to come over for the next draining. I told her that if she didn't want me there, I wouldn't come but that if she was just doing it because she felt bad about me driving, then she had to let me make that decision. She said she absolutely loved having me there and that wasn't it at all, but she just felt bad for the boys having to sit there and me driving, etc. I told her that I got to make that decision and if I felt like it was too much, I would let her know. She didn't even argue. She just said ok. Honestly, I don't think she meant a word of it when she said she'd be okay without me. Well, I know she would be okay. But I also know it helps for her to have me there. So, things will remain the same. I have certainly learned where I get my need to never put anyone out though! I do the exact same thing with all my friends, "No, no...I'm fine." I never want anyone to have to go out of their way for me. I apparently learned from the best when it comes to that.
After my call today I decided I needed to call her Hospice nurse to either verify or deny what I've been thinking. I suppose I wanted her to tell me it was all in my head, but I wasn't surprised when she told me she thinks I'm right.
Her nurse told me she also believes things are changing. She says mom is so small, there's so little left of her. She says she feels like mom is starting to exhibit some fear about things which tends to be a sign that someone knows things are changing inside of them. She also said that the time may come when the fluid can't continue to be drained. It can't be done very close together because it's bad on mom's kidneys and liver. So, once it gets to the point of needing to be drained closer together, we actually have to stop draining it. And then just try to make mom comfortable. This terrifies me. Absolutely terrifies me.
So, cut to the hospital today. There was a mix up and we ended up sitting in the waiting room longer than we had all anticipated. While we sat there mom and dad started talking to me about stuff I didn't want to talk about in the waiting room at the hospital. They told me they have an appointment at the cemetery next week because they've never been there yet. They're being interned at the Catholic cemetery in Seattle. They've paid for everything and everything is in place, but they have yet to go out there. They talked about it like they were going out for dinner. They talked about the cremation and the service at the church. And my head was screaming, "STOP! PLEASE STOP!"
I realized then that this is their life. These are the conversations they have together. And it ripped my heart out of my chest and tore it into little pieces. It hurt so much to imagine them sitting at home together discussing all this. Of course, I knew they probably had, but the idea that they made an appointment to go to the cemetery was just too much reality for me today.
Mom and I finally went back to the radiology room. It was almost a welcome respite from the conversation. Things went a little better than last week, although the color of the fluid was the same as last time. I now know it wasn't blood. It's simply the color the fluid. The tech today wrote down "Strawberry" for color. They only had to turn her once to keep the draining. But that's still different than it was for the several times previous to the one 3 weeks ago. Mom had taken an anti-anxiety pill beforehand which I actually think did help her state of mind. I'm thinking I could have used one too. :-O
After the draining was done, mom felt so much better. She was sitting on the side of the bed waiting for the tech to find a wheelchair when she looked at me and said, "I'm so lucky to have you." I never know how to respond to that. I just smile and say I'm glad I can be there. Then she told me she found a picture for her obituary but still needs one to blow up for the funeral. I couldn't even talk. I had to look down and try to keep the tears from flowing. I KNOW I have to have these conversations. But I wasn't prepared today. And I wasn't prepared for them being just like a conversation about anything else.
I then wheeled mom out to the main entrance and we went through our drill of waiting for dad to go get the car. Just before he left, he reached for mom's hand and gave her a quick kiss. She grabbed his hand with both her hands and for a moment they just smiled at one another. No words were exchanged but so much was said. It was the most beautiful thing and it broke my heart at the same time. It will be a moment I don't think I'll ever forget.
I had a 2 hour drive home and then had an appointment with a client tonight and had to finish up birthday shopping for Jonathan. I also have been trying to find canned pumpkin which apparently every store is out of! I had planned to make mom a pumpkin pie for her anniversary, but unless I find pumpkin, I'm out of luck. I am making a cake for both their anniversary and Jonathan's birthday and we'll be celebrating all of that on Sunday. Then Monday is Jonathan's actual birthday and the boys and I are going to the Puyallup Fair.
I plan to pick up mom's photo albums on Sunday and starting putting together a collage of pictures that I can put up for her when the time comes and she is more bed ridden. I want happy memories for her to see every time she opens her eyes.
So, I guess I'm planning ahead too. In my own way. No matter how much I hate it.
It's been a long day. And I'm going to be up for a while studying tonight. I imagine there will continue to be several moments of breaking down still tonight. I feel like I'm living in this strange world that is nothing like what I remember it being. I still cannot imagine this world without my mom. My brain can't get there. I don't know that it ever will.
This weekend is about celebrating though. So, I'm trying to get myself to that place where I can celebrate my parent's 51st anniversary and my son's 11th birthday. It's odd celebrating in the face of impending sorrow (or perhaps current sorrow), but that's what we humans do. It's how we go on. It's just not always easy.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Day 176: Emotions on high
I don't even know where to start today. I've put off blogging all week because, well, in all honesty, I've been trying to be tough. But it's now Friday night at 10pm. I'm alone in a very quiet house and my tough exterior is fading.
As I mentioned, Olly drove to California a week ago. The plans were for him to come home Tuesday. That turned into Wednesday and then his grandma took a turn for the worse and he decided to stay through the weekend.
His grandma died last night at the much too young age of 64.
I am SO glad Olly was able to be there.
But I have to say this week was really hard. And I feel selfish about it. And I have wanted to put it into words all week, but I didn't want Olly to feel like he couldn't talk to me. Because that's not what I want at all. I need him to talk to me. I just need to figure out how to let out my emotions in a healthy way too.
I hurt so badly for him. I hurt that I'm not there. I should be with him. I feel so far away from him.
And, yet, every time I heard from him, it was like a stab in the gut because I couldn't help but think that my turn is coming. This horrible rotten disease is inside my mom. It is slowly taking her from me. And every time I got off the phone or read a text from Olly, I ended up in tears.
And it's hard when it's your main support person that is hurting because you have to find support somewhere else. And I just didn't have that this week. Olly didn't need to be taking care of me. He was taking care of so many others in his family. So...I held it together and I went about my days. But I feel like I've been in a fog all week. It's almost like I'm not really here. I don't really know how to explain it.
But, as I mentioned, my resolve has weakened tremendously as the week has gone on. I'm not sleeping well and my patience is running thin. I feel lonely and lost and scared.
And the only reason I'm even posting tonight is because Olly and I talked a little today. More than we have all week. And we both said that we think this whole thing will probably help us when we are sitting in each other's roles someday down the line. Although...I really don't want to be there. But I'm hoping as he reads this he understands my feelings.
It's been hard being away from someone who I am so used to being with every day. It's been hard to be so far away from him when he's hurting. And it's been hard to hear what it's like to lose someone from cancer. Because I don't want to do it.
In the time my mom has been diagnosed, I have heard so many stories of people losing someone they loved to cancer. This disease has to be stopped. It's ugly. It takes away life, and it does it painfully. It is not easy to die from cancer and that makes me so incredibly angry. And I feel like this week has been a very close look into what is to come and I hate it. I just hate it so much.
And so I sit alone in my house sobbing out of pain and anger.
I knew my emotions were getting the best of me when I found myself sobbing over the fact that my very favorite radio show was being pulled from the air and tonight was their last night. That show brought me so much humor over the past year and 9 months. I would listen to them driving home from childbirth classes. And I was SO mad that they were going to be gone. I felt like I was losing friends. And it was as though the volcano of emotions finally erupted. I am SO tired of loss.
And tonight, I'm alone. At least all week I had my boys on which to focus my energy. When the emotions bubbled, I'd make breakfast or lunch or do some schoolwork with them or we would get out of the house and do something or whatever...there was always a distraction. There is no distraction tonight.
I really should be in bed. I have to get up early tomorrow. I can't explain how grateful I am that I am teaching all day tomorrow. And then tomorrow night I'm going to a concert that I have been waiting for all summer. Unfortunately Olly isn't going to go with me as planned and that, again, makes me really sad because I wanted to share this with him. But, for whatever reason, he isn't supposed to go and it's going to be a girls night out now with two of my girlfriends. I'm sure we will have fun and it's probably a really good thing. I should be well distracted tomorrow.
~ Sigh ~ honestly, that felt good to let go. I've been holding in a lot of emotions this week. And I suppose that isn't good either. I wanted to be a good support person this week. But I know enough to know that in order to do that I need support myself...and I didn't get that this week. I should have done a better job of that.
So now it's almost 11pm and I'm still wide awake. I'm going to be one tired girl tomorrow. I'll probably go lie down in bed and start reading one of my textbooks. That usually does a good job of putting me to sleep. ;-)
I wish everyone a peaceful weekend. And I hope my next blog post will hold a little more good news. Mom and dad's 51st anniversary is coming up next weekend and Michael and Kiersten and Olly and I are all the boys are going to spend a few hours with them to celebrate. I intend to make sure lots of pictures are taken. I also am intending to get mom's phone albums and bring them home. I have some plans for those as well.
I turned in 30 8mm tapes to Costco last weekend to get put onto a cd. That was long in coming. I'm hoping all the tapes were still good. They went back to 1964 and I want to have those memories for a long time to come.
Okay...off to bed...just me and my textbooks...and hopefully no more tears...for tonight anyway.
As I mentioned, Olly drove to California a week ago. The plans were for him to come home Tuesday. That turned into Wednesday and then his grandma took a turn for the worse and he decided to stay through the weekend.
His grandma died last night at the much too young age of 64.
I am SO glad Olly was able to be there.
But I have to say this week was really hard. And I feel selfish about it. And I have wanted to put it into words all week, but I didn't want Olly to feel like he couldn't talk to me. Because that's not what I want at all. I need him to talk to me. I just need to figure out how to let out my emotions in a healthy way too.
I hurt so badly for him. I hurt that I'm not there. I should be with him. I feel so far away from him.
And, yet, every time I heard from him, it was like a stab in the gut because I couldn't help but think that my turn is coming. This horrible rotten disease is inside my mom. It is slowly taking her from me. And every time I got off the phone or read a text from Olly, I ended up in tears.
And it's hard when it's your main support person that is hurting because you have to find support somewhere else. And I just didn't have that this week. Olly didn't need to be taking care of me. He was taking care of so many others in his family. So...I held it together and I went about my days. But I feel like I've been in a fog all week. It's almost like I'm not really here. I don't really know how to explain it.
But, as I mentioned, my resolve has weakened tremendously as the week has gone on. I'm not sleeping well and my patience is running thin. I feel lonely and lost and scared.
And the only reason I'm even posting tonight is because Olly and I talked a little today. More than we have all week. And we both said that we think this whole thing will probably help us when we are sitting in each other's roles someday down the line. Although...I really don't want to be there. But I'm hoping as he reads this he understands my feelings.
It's been hard being away from someone who I am so used to being with every day. It's been hard to be so far away from him when he's hurting. And it's been hard to hear what it's like to lose someone from cancer. Because I don't want to do it.
In the time my mom has been diagnosed, I have heard so many stories of people losing someone they loved to cancer. This disease has to be stopped. It's ugly. It takes away life, and it does it painfully. It is not easy to die from cancer and that makes me so incredibly angry. And I feel like this week has been a very close look into what is to come and I hate it. I just hate it so much.
And so I sit alone in my house sobbing out of pain and anger.
I knew my emotions were getting the best of me when I found myself sobbing over the fact that my very favorite radio show was being pulled from the air and tonight was their last night. That show brought me so much humor over the past year and 9 months. I would listen to them driving home from childbirth classes. And I was SO mad that they were going to be gone. I felt like I was losing friends. And it was as though the volcano of emotions finally erupted. I am SO tired of loss.
And tonight, I'm alone. At least all week I had my boys on which to focus my energy. When the emotions bubbled, I'd make breakfast or lunch or do some schoolwork with them or we would get out of the house and do something or whatever...there was always a distraction. There is no distraction tonight.
I really should be in bed. I have to get up early tomorrow. I can't explain how grateful I am that I am teaching all day tomorrow. And then tomorrow night I'm going to a concert that I have been waiting for all summer. Unfortunately Olly isn't going to go with me as planned and that, again, makes me really sad because I wanted to share this with him. But, for whatever reason, he isn't supposed to go and it's going to be a girls night out now with two of my girlfriends. I'm sure we will have fun and it's probably a really good thing. I should be well distracted tomorrow.
~ Sigh ~ honestly, that felt good to let go. I've been holding in a lot of emotions this week. And I suppose that isn't good either. I wanted to be a good support person this week. But I know enough to know that in order to do that I need support myself...and I didn't get that this week. I should have done a better job of that.
So now it's almost 11pm and I'm still wide awake. I'm going to be one tired girl tomorrow. I'll probably go lie down in bed and start reading one of my textbooks. That usually does a good job of putting me to sleep. ;-)
I wish everyone a peaceful weekend. And I hope my next blog post will hold a little more good news. Mom and dad's 51st anniversary is coming up next weekend and Michael and Kiersten and Olly and I are all the boys are going to spend a few hours with them to celebrate. I intend to make sure lots of pictures are taken. I also am intending to get mom's phone albums and bring them home. I have some plans for those as well.
I turned in 30 8mm tapes to Costco last weekend to get put onto a cd. That was long in coming. I'm hoping all the tapes were still good. They went back to 1964 and I want to have those memories for a long time to come.
Okay...off to bed...just me and my textbooks...and hopefully no more tears...for tonight anyway.
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