Mountain

I feel overwhelmed. I literally want to crawl back into bed every second of the day. My kitchen table is covered with thank you cards. Many are from Molly’s graduation. Thank goodness she wrote them without prompting. She addressed them. I have a pile of notes I wrote months ago. I wrote a few yesterday. Going to the post office to get stamps is a whole different story. I can easily do it. I can easily call my dad to help me. I just don’t have the energy to do either, yet I want my kitchen table cleared off. I have suitcases sitting around, unpacked. I can’t find my flip flops. They are probably at the bottom of a hamper. I have managed to load the dishwasher a few times. I’ve done a couple of loads of laundry. I really just want to crawl into bed. I took our beautiful Golden to get her shots. I asked if they could trim the knots behind her ears. By night, it had turned into a horrible, nasty hotspot. She has been back to the vet twice. It is unbearable to hear her whimper and cry. My other old dog has lost control of her bladder. We have little “chats” about it, and she does better for awhile. I don’t want to put her down. She curls up at my feet every night. The 3rd old girl has a tumor under her “armpit”. I’m rambling, but that is what my mind has turned to lately. I need to get back to work soon. I can’t fix what is wrong at home, and it overwhelms me. My real issue is looking at my boy. He is so frail, so weak. I just want him to eat. I want him to feel good, to look good. I want him to go back to college this fall. I will get past this. I definitely don’t want people to feel sorry for me or to come unpack my suitcases. I would be mortified. I keep telling myself that Jake is going to get better. In a year  this should be behind us. This week, though,  I feel alone. I feel overwhelmed. I want people to know how much I appreciate everything that everyone has done for us. I’m embarrassed that writing thank you notes has become a task to me like climbing a mountain. I don’t know why, I can’t explain it. I know this will pass. My best friend is taking me to get ice cream later. I’ve mentioned it several times, but I haven’t made it out there yet. I’m going to take my Gigi to the vet now. Hopefully there is something to help my old girl. Maybe we’ll stop by the post office on the way home…

Stand still…

I need the summer to stop 3 days ago when there was no humidity, and it was bearable outside. I don’t know how long I want time to stand still. Long enough for Jake to recuperate would be nice. I am hoping he can go back to school after Labor Day, but I’m not sure if he’ll be strong enough. But there is something else looming over us at the end of summer. Molly will be going off to college. Not just off to college, 30 hours away from home, off to college. I’m happy, thrilled, proud, and excited for her, but sad for myself. I’m sure Dave feels the same way. Today I booked a flight and a motel room. Molly and I will drive across the country. We will stop about halfway and stay with family, and we will arrive at her college August 19th. I will fly home the 21st. It’s not been long enough. 18 years isn’t long enough.  Our lives will change forever. Eighteen years ago, we had Molly, moved into our house, and Dave started a new job all within 6 weeks. Those first six weeks, Molly would not sleep anywhere but on my chest. I don’t know how we did it. We were younger. We were so busy, the time just flew. I’m thankful for the time I’ve spent with Jake the past two years, but sorry for the time I missed with Molly. She’s funny, witty and smart. I love to hear her giggle. I’ve always been in awe of her wisdom. Even in the first grade, she was funny and wise. I know her being able to go is a good reflection on us. The last thing I want is my child to be co-dependent on me. I’m envious that she has the guts to do something I never had the courage to do. We joke that I will move out there too. It’s not really a funny joke. Dave and Molly both are concerned that I won’t be able to handle it. Somehow, like every other parent, I will adjust, but for right now, for just a little bit, I want time to stand still…

Heavy

There is a lot going on around here that is getting negative press. More drug busts. The court appearances take 2 or more pages in our newspaper. The neighboring city where my son goes to college is in the headlines this morning.  The FBI has swarmed the superintendent ‘ s office. The FBI. I imagine it’s not good. Fraud. Embezzlement. Cover up. Who knows? We will find out the details soon enough. I’ve been thinking all morning about the drug busts. These are kids that I know. Some were students. I had a rapport with them. I’ve spoken to their parents. I hoped for the best for all of them.  I doubt any of them in junior high would have predicted growing up and being arrested in connection with methamphetamine. What could have been done differently?  Everyone will point fingers – the parents, a broken home, the school system, bullies, lack of goals or direction, etc. There are no simple answers. At some point we have to take responsibility for our actions. We can’t be a victim. My first question would be, how did you think you weren’t going to get caught?  Many live in the moment. Whatever feels good now. We will deal with the future later. The future will eventually come. It weighs heavy on my heart. And then I saw a post from another former student who just passed her nursing boards. She’s a young, single mother. Her own mother died when she was very young. She had been living with her mother, stepfather and 3 siblings when her mom passed. Everything changed for her in an instant. She left her sisters, friends, aunts, uncles and grandmother and went to live with her biological father in a different town. She had every reason to turn to drugs and alcohol, but she didn’t.  She had the rug pulled out from under her at a very vulnerable age. But she, like many other people, picked herself up and followed her dream. She valued her life. She got an education and will be able to support herself and her darling daughter. She will now care for patients who will struggle to survive after abusing their bodies with drugs and alcohol. They will be lucky to have someone like her caring for them. Thanks Jessica, for a moment you have lifted my heavy heart!

The Light…

Jake’s numbers were so good today, we were told we could go home! We can have blood checked at a nearby hospital and go back to see his doctor in two weeks. I packed up that apartment and loaded the car so fast, I couldn’t wait to get home. Dr. N. shook Jake’s hand and said, “You’re my hero, Jake. I’m so fortunate to know you.”  We kind of giggle when he gets sentimental like that, and Jake doesn’t really feel all that special. It’s hard for him to wrap his head around everything. He couldn’t believe how green everything looked as we drove home. I called my sister in the car to tell her the great news, and Jake started crying. I think it is a mixture of emotions. He doesn’t like all the attention- he doesn’t feel like it’s deserved. There are lots of sick people. Jake, in a world where we see so much bad- the news is full of horrible things. Our presidential candidates are Clinton and Trump. We feel defeated or hopeless sometimes. But for people to know you or to hear your story, it gives them faith. It reminds them that God is Great. It gives us hope. It makes people feel good… He is hopeful. He’s a little sad. He feels like he’s missed two years. Jake, you’re lucky. The people who have survived with your immune deficiency usually don’t get cancer until in their 30’s. You could have spent the next decade in and out of the hospital. You might have a career, wife, kids and a mortgage. I want him to try to find anything positive in his situation possible. Life isn’t fair for any of us. No one ever said it was. I used to be more negative and pessimistic. I’m not sure what changed in my 20’s, but it did. Maybe it was teaching junior high. It wasn’t easy, and I didn’t always like it, but maybe it opened my eyes. I learned to be kind and compassionate. I learned empathy and how to listen. I realized it wasn’t always about me. I met people facing challenges that I couldn’t even imagine. I learned a lot about myself. I know teaching made me a better parent. So for Jake, I have not taken the time to be bitter or sad. I have only held onto hope and looked for the light at the end of the tunnel. I will do everything I can to help him also see the light. He mentioned something about his own future kids. He is hopeful. Life is too short and precious to dwell on the negatives. We keep moving forward. We are blessed…

Day lilies

I’ve neglected my flower beds. Dave asked if I would mow the yard this weekend, and I called my dad. He rode his lawn mower over and took care of it. We were walking around the house, and I was kind of embarrassed. I’ve never really enjoyed working in the yard, but I really wanted to have my flower beds. We have transplanted flowers from my grandma’s house to all 3 houses we’ve lived in. Some of the plants are 100 years old. My grandma was meticulous. I would walk around her beds and she would name the types of flowers and where they came from as she pulled a few straggler weeds she’d missed earlier. Each flower had a story because she never actually bought any of them. They had come from someone she knew. She would enter flowers in the county fair under my name. I wanted a red ribbon. I got blue or purple. She had to convince me it was a good thing. I loved those flowers. Anymore I can’t stand to sweat. A few years ago, I got into a poisonous weed of some kind and was pretty miserable.  I pulled back some leaves one fall and uncovered our water snake all coiled up. I like the snake.  I know he’s there; he’s good for the environment, but I don’t want to see him. So I’m not motivated to go work in my flower beds.  I like looking out the kitchen window and seeing them. It’s been pretty humid. I can’t stand it. It isn’t even June yet. My grandma worked in her yard until she was in her 80’s. She proclaimed she hoped she’d just drop dead in her flower garden. I didn’t understand why on earth she would say that. I later realized that her greatest fear had come true. She lived her final 9 years on earth in the Alzheimer ‘ s unit. We would talk about all the things she taught me and her flowers that I have surrounding my house. She didn’t remember any of it. I feel ashamed that I don’t have the cute, active figure my grandma had. She used to push mow her very large yard and garden and weed all summer. She enjoyed it. It’s ironic that she was too healthy to drop dead in her flower beds. I was horrified at her words as a child but now fully understand. We don’t get to make all the choices in our lives. We play the hand we’re dealt. I hope this summer, I can take the time to tend to my flower beds…

I’ve neglected my flower beds. Dave asked if I would mow the yard this weekend, and I called my dad. He rode his lawn mower over and took care of it. We were walking around the house, and I was kind of embarrassed. I’ve never really enjoyed working in the yard, but I really wanted to have my flower beds. We have transplanted flowers from my grandma’s house to all 3 houses we’ve lived in. Some of the plants are 100 years old. My grandma was meticulous. I would walk around her beds and she would name the types of flowers and where they came from as she pulled a few straggler weeds she’d missed earlier. Each one had a story because she never actually bought any of them. They had come from someone she knew. She would enter flowers in the county fair under my name. I wanted a red ribbon. I got blue or purple. She had to convince me it was a good thing. I loved those flowers. Anymore I can’t stand to sweat. A few years ago, I got into a poisonous weed of some kind and was pretty miserable.  I pulled back some leaves one fall and uncovered our water snake all coiled up. I like the snake.  I know he’s there; he’s good for the environment, but I don’t want to see him. So I’m not motivated to go work in my flower beds.  I like looking out the kitchen window and seeing them. It’s been pretty humid. I can’t stand it. It isn’t even June yet. My grandma worked in her yard until she was in her 80’s. She proclaimed she hoped she’d just drop dead in her flower garden. I didn’t understand why on earth she would say that. I later realized that her greatest fear had come true. She lived her final 9 years on earth in the Alzheimer ‘ s unit. We would talk about all the things she taught me and her flowers that I have surrounding my house. She didn’t remember any of it. I feel ashamed that I don’t have the cute, active figure my grandma had. She used to push mow her very large yard and garden and weed all summer. She enjoyed it. It’s ironic that she was too healthy to drop dead in her flower beds. I was horrified at her words as a child but now fully understand. We don’t get to make all the choices in our lives. We play the hand we’re dealt. I hope this summer, I can take the time to tend to my flower beds…

Recuperating

Jake weighs 135 pounds. His appearance is shocking- bald, emaciated, covered with scabs and scars. Mentally and emotionally he has suffered. He says things and realizes it’s not what he meant, or he loses his train of thought. His body itches, jerks, shakes and shivers. He’s barely eating solid foods, the first since April 27th.  The yogurt he tried eating made him vomit. His GI tract was damaged by the chemo, and the new layer of tissue can’t handle the lactose yet. He had an IV bag of fluids last Tuesday. He was getting dehydrated – not enough to be hospitalized.  They warned us that 95% of transplant patients who were re-admitted were dehydrated.  I was waking Jake up every 30 minutes to force him to take sips the evening before. Jake has asked me to hold him a few times, he let me kiss his head. He’s talked about things that frighten him. He’s afraid he will never feel good or normal again. He asked me to lay in bed with him until he fell asleep.  We sit on the couch and watch TV. He wants us near him. He’s lonely. He looked back at a text message he sent his friend and suggested they get a rat as a pet. When did I write that? Why did I write that? I’ve heard of “chemo brain”. I wonder if going back to school this fall is an unrealistic goal. But his “numbers” look great. The blood counts are coming back beautifully. We have every reason to be hopeful. I keep encouraging him that this will get better. Each day this week, he has made small improvements. Dave left Monday, and returned tonight. It is Thursday, and he says Jake is a different kid. He let Dave push him along the canal. It’s a 3 mile loop. He chatted the whole time. I miss him, but I’m thrilled to see my daughter. It’s in the back of my mind that soon she’ll be across the country at college. We’re going to get our hair done and go to dinner tomorrow. She asked when Jake can come home.  We were given permission to come home for a night or two. Jake didn’t feel ready for the drive. Soon we will be home, hopefully forever and this nightmare will be over. I’m thankful we had Jake’s Senior pictures taken 2 weeks before the meningitis. I meant to take his picture with his sister to his hospital room. I wanted the nurses and doctors to see what he’d looked like before. They could also see his donor. He occasionally mentions life before he got sick. He’s hopeful for the future. He knows it will be different, but he’s hopeful- we all are…