Sunday, March 25, 2012

Rainy Days and Sundays Always Get Me Down...

Friday, the morning after the MU game, I didn't wake up until 10am.  When I did, it was difficult to move, I started one of my mini mantras - get out of bed...get out of bed...feet on ground...head off pillow...so like a band-aid I ripped myself out of bed and slowly got to the task of making breakfast.  Again, the single minded thinking began, and no sooner am I eating breakfast when a new mantra begins... eat..back to bed...eat...back to bed...

So by 11am I was crashed back into bed, my doctor appointment was scheduled at 1:30pm.  So as my head plummeted to the pillow I was doing a mental calculation of how long I could lay down before I would need to get up, get ready and eat before heading out...12:15, 12:30 at the very latest - because I eat slower than black molassas pours I need extra time.  At 12:45pm my phone rings and wakes me up from a deep sleep, its my mom seeing how the game was last night (minus the loss) I,  barely audible, tell her I have to call her back, disorientated and now wondering how the heck I am going to get it together and get to my appointment - I contemplate not going - but its a Friday, and if I don't  make it and miss out on a treatment that could potentially make me feel better, it puts things off three entire days.  So I slowly make it out of bed, mantra now - juice - get ready - juice - get ready.  The second I have a  sip of juice I feel like I am going to be sick - so I make it to the bathroom - I want to just forget it - who cares - its one appointment.  I am thankful I am not throwing up, but I have the nauseous chills and goose bumps on my arms, but thankful that my stomach is at least moving in gravity's direction.

I make it out of the bathroom, I look in the mirror and can't believe that is me staring back - I look old and tired, vibrant would not be an adjective that comes to mind.  I am just about to throw in the towel and think I just can't' F'ing do this anymore, I don't know how I can keep doing this, like you do when you are in the middle of a dense forest and can't find your way out (not that I have ever been in the middle of the forest, but I imagine)  and the "ding" on my phone goes off - I go to check it and this is what I find...


and I find the strength.  I have a blog that I haven't published about Kids - and my opinion on the annoying phrase that parents often use that "they never have known love until they had a child" and I won't get into it now but to say, I get it, I think its a misdirected quote, but I get the jist.  I believe what people really mean, is you will never know what it feels like to be given something so fragile, that depends so profoundly on your actions.  I understand the will do anything for your children that stems from a visceral place and I understand what it feels like to fight when you feel like you have no fight left for someone other than yourself, because if it is only a fraction of what I feel when I see my niece and nephew, it is enough to break you and build you simultaneously.  Much of it is stems from a "selfish" place of "I don't want to miss a thing" while the other can't bare to not be there to help them from whatever they need...

So, as I left and re-entered the bathroom many more times, called my doctor and said, "I know you tell me not to call when I am going to be late, but I am going to be very late, so let me know if you can't fit me in..." and the secretary doesn't call me back - I garner what strength I didn't think I could find and I make it there.  

When I get there, we determine its time for round 3 in one week of the UV-Blood Irridation - and I can't help it but I start to cry.  I just feel so awful and the thought of the treatment, despite knowing I will most likely feel stronger in the long run just seems like too much.  So, I focus hard in my mind of the rainy day picture and hugs sent via the air stream, and close my eyes and I do it.  I do it for the hope that I feel better for myself, but what pushes me is the hope that my niece and nephew get the aunt that existed before they did.

When I leave the office, I ironically thank my doctor for being so patient - "calmly waiting" as she did, careful with my fragile self - knowing when to push, and use extreme care when the first vein didn't work and she asked me to hold the cotton and I'm so nervous I don't realize that the tourniquet is still on and I hold it and bend my arm - not a good combination to stop blood flow - and she patiently coxes my arm down and holds it herself -tells me to breathe and think of something pleasant - and through a forced smile I did.

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