Blessings

 I am so done with cancer.

And 2020.

Seriously, enough already!

Remembering the many blessings I and my family have received, acknowledging the unseen blessings that surely are at work, is a small act that should be both joyous and automatic. Instead I struggle every day. Surely this isn’t human nature—I remember being a joy filled individual when I was younger, or at least trying to be. 

I think all is well, and then WHAM am fighting an overwhelming desire to wake up from an extended nightmare that’s choking me.

In June:

I came here with the intention of telling anyone who may not know yet that my mom has cancer. I realize how pointless this exercise is. Anyone who knows me or any of my rather numerous extended clan is already aware, and other interested parties aren’t likely to look here for an update. I’m almost never on this parasitic site; Mom is the cheery, saucy, salty, flirting, iron-willed, steel-strengthed (is that even a word?) one everybody loves.

If you’re seeing this and confused because I kept vigil for and buried a mom two years ago, that was my stepmom. Another strong woman with a story not widely told.

My mom, my hero, my rock, has stage 4 lung cancer with brain metastasis. Palliative Care, oxygen, the whole nine yards. The only medicine offered is to alleviate pain. The only treatment given is spoken of as offering months with as little pain as possible. 

The slender beauty who tended bars full of rowdy, over muscled, over ego’d or just oversized men without fear or favor is now telling off poison in her own body. 

So swear all you like. (She can still outswear you.) Don’t beat up anyone smaller or weaker than you ‘cause she can still give you a vicious tongue lashing. Thank you for your prayers. Your love. Your kindness. I will see comments, but if you want speedy replies, you’re better off posting to her page or my sisters directly. 

If you want to help, then make the world a better place. Be a good ally to fellow humans, whether we bear different skin tones, disabilities, levels of affluence or gender identities. Check your biases, realize your privileges, and help your neighbors without waiting for an invitation. And for all of our sakes, vote this November.

Mom has refused to be a victim her entire life, no matter what trauma has been thrown at her. That certainly isn’t going to change at this stage.

She’s amassing a playlist of songs, demanding that people dance when she dies. ‘The hell with a funeral; give me a wake! And make sure there’s laughter in it!’

2020 does suck and will likely become a swear word in future days. But this is now, right now. Live life to the fullest and help others do the same. I promise that this little pocket of women (and our sweet, long suffering, vastly outnumbered men) will continue to do so.

With love.

In August:

Three months. That’s it. Just 12 weeks since my world imploded. 

I woke to a voicemail from Mom saying she had fallen—that she couldn’t feel the right side of her body. My sister lived much nearer and was already on her way. I stayed on the phone as she followed the ambulance.

As the local hospital ran tests. 

As the doc walked in and opened his mouth to say we knew not what of stroke or seizure only to drop “cancer.” Every one of us forgot to breathe.

Cancer. Wha? Huh? How? Wh-?? She lives cleaner than I. She’s fit, slender, active...surely the imaging was misconstrued?

Non small cell adenocarcinoma of the lung in both sides. One large mass, several ground glass nodules in the lymph nodes. Metastasized to the brain. There’s a tumor in the left parietal lobe and one in the right cerebellum that caused stroke like symptoms.

Whew. There’s been little time to catch breath. Everything from cancer to home sale, kidney donation to oxygen tanks, has happened since. A kitchen sink is in there, too. To cope, my sister has mastered a managerial role while I’ve mothered every being in my orbit: children, cousins, plants, wild birds nesting nearby... (I’ve never understood how people can be frightened of me. Such fierceness. Much scary.)

(Also, to all family inflicted with me recently, ESPECIALLY Aunt Ardele, Isaiah, Alycia, ‘my’ beautiful boys and their growing families, you have my profound sympathies. I can’t change my psyche but at least you can hide. Much love!)

And Mom? I work out at 5 am and she’s reading her bible. I clean our temporary abode and she’s singing hymns. Once in the city, her new oncologist skipped chemo and offered comfort care. Mom responded with humor. “I have special cancer!” Palliative care was immediately assigned upon our intake. Mom bought new ‘F—- Cancer!’ socks and made yet more friends. I don’t think there’s a health care worker between Rolla and Columbia she hasn’t completely charmed.

This adventure on the side of the zooming bullet train that is 2020 is quite a ride. Does it sometimes feel to anyone else out there that all of your being is focused on gripping that handlebar for dear life, tucking your head in to breathe occasionally?

So once again and from top to bottom of my heart, I thank every one of you. For our blessings. For your kindnesses. For your grace. 

And for those of you stuck with me for life, exhausted by my randomness during the best of times, thank you for your patience. I love you.

November was the election. It’s December and we’re still putting up with the temper tantrums of an old, entitled white dude and his extended circle of treasonous enablers instead of marching in the millions with cardboard guillotines and tumbrils to clear the rot.

COVID-19 has brought out even more of the stupid in humans. It has effectively locked us women down in Missouri while my husband is across the country in WV. It has myself, my mom and daughters all going stir crazy in various ways as deaths and danger increase through the winter months.

My daughters’ distance learning has exposed some serious issues with WV public education. The Wellness/PE course for a 7th grader has sponsored games and a section on the ills of vaping. Vaping. Politicization of my children’s education has me climbing the wall in rage. I want to raise good citizens, not produce willing serfs.

Then again, I could be climbing the wall simply because I’m trying to keep three girls in three different grades on task for hours each day, further contracting my world to the space of two bedrooms. Or because two of those are a month behind owing to the spine surgery one had to undergo and the protracted recovery time. 

This is an epic rant for the ages, but I need to release the toxins to breathe.

Through all of this, there’s been so much love. So much heart. And so very many blessings.