Silently Surviving

The Rebelution makes what sounds like a radical argument. It’s not just saying that hard things happen and that you can benefit from them. It’s not even just saying that you have the ability to do hard things. It’s telling you that you should do hard things because it’s the best and only way to experience true growth in your life.

Can you think of any period of growth in your life (… student, athlete, musician, etc…) that didn’t involve effort and even some level of discomfort? The truth is that all growth involves discomfort. Think of growing pains.

These are not a new ideas. We don’t want to reinvent truth. But we do want our generation to rediscover what has always been true — and one thing that has always been true is that in order to grow we must do hard things. We must challenge and stretch ourselves, step outside our comfort zones and do something difficult. It’s how we’ve grown before, and it’s the only way we’ll grow for the rest of our lives.

(From Alex & Brett Harris blog and website: http://www.therebelution.com)

Yes, this is a piece of a blog from a Christian teen site, but I would argue that it could and should apply to almost anyone and everyone, regardless of age or religious affiliation. Just about everyone I know is addicted to fun. We have low expectations of ourselves. We don’t want to do anything that might require actual work or difficulty. We want it all to come easily, and allow us adequate time for fun and games. When does that prepare us to actually do something with our lives? Most of us didn’t go to college in order to prepare us for responsibility, we went to college to give us four more years to avoid responsibility.  Trust me, I’m the biggest offender of this trend. I’m not making any holier-than-thou judgments, I’m pointing a finger straight at myself, and somewhat pointedly at one or two other people I know. Let’s get off our butts and do something!!! And, for those of you to whom this argument does not apply, I applaud you! Now challenge the person to your left or your right to whom it does apply.

Good news!! It’s not cancer! Bad news… we don’t know what it is, but it’s something. Good news… surgery should clarify things that the CAT scan didn’t. Bad news…. well, I guess I can’t think of anything else bad about it, just that it’s still some kind of weird lump or growth or something in my dad’s bladder or colon. The mind naturally wants to skitter away from thinking about either of those particular areas, so I’ll leave it at that.

Thank you for your prayers!

p.s. I didn’t say it was a GOOD poem, merely the current result of me thinking about poetry and about God.

I just talked to my stepmother, a phone call I was frankly frightened to make.

She says the initial doctor said it was bladder cancer, but they just got back from seeing the urologist who says that even though there is a sizable growth on the X-Ray, it hasn’t been biopsied yet, we don’t know it’s cancer, and the first doctor should not have been saying such a thing. (Not the normal doctor he sees.) So, I’m feeling a bit like I have been on one of those amusement park rides that just shakes you up and down and spins you around and at the end you are nauseous and stumbling.

She will now be going to all my dad’s appointments, similar to how i go to all my mom’s… because the right information doesn’t get transferred or conveyed, to the doctor or to the patient’s family.

I’m pissed off at the first doctor, and relieved that my dad isn’t sounding as inclined to give up just yet, and yet I’m still worried.

And, my sister is still in the dark. My stepmom will wait til they know something further.

I just want to sleep for awhile.

Two days ago my dad called. He has bladder cancer. Prognosis unknown until further tests have been run. I’m one of those women who still call their fathers “Daddy”. I’m not really a Daddy’s Girl (I wish), but Dad never felt intimate enough. I forced myself to call my mother Mom instead of Mommy in my 20’s.  I can’t talk about it much yet, I’m a little in shock. He isn’t the most healthy guy by a long shot. I’m not sure he’ll make it, even if it wouldn’t be a killer otherwise. He needs to make it for my stepmom. My brother and I have our own families now, we can cope. My stepmother however has every single person in her family sick with cancer practically. She has two sisters and a mom and an ex-husband (my stepsister’s dad) and now a husband all with cancer. Two of them are “actively dying” (that’s a strange concept). She does not want to tell my stepsister about MY dad yet because HER dad is dying and my sister lives far from any family and gets overwhelmed easily. I feel like she’s going to be mad and resentful about not being told right away. But, what do I know?

Anyway, and last week the news about my mom….  So, what’s next?

Also, I just transitioned off some medication and I’m going through some icky withdrawal symptoms, mostly jittery and dizzy. I’m going to call my nurse practitioner about it tomorrow. There is no lower dose available and they aren’t tablets that you can take half of, they are capsules, but maybe I should go to every other day or something. The way I feel right now there is no way I am going to work on Monday (tomorrow), and I’ve already had the last 3 days off plus the weekend for vacation, so that’s not a great thing. Either I’ll get way behind, or someone else will try to do my work and mess it all up, meaning I’ll have to fix it all. Gah.

On that note, I think I need to go lie down.  Your prayers are welcomed.

Met with the social worker today that is keeping track of my mom’s progression into memory loss. She acknowledged to me that it is “most likely” Alzheimers due to the fact that it has progressively gotten worse over the last two years. However, my mom is highly functioning, very bright, and works her mind constantly (reading, x-word puzzles, etc.), so she’ll probably be mostly okay for years to come. That sounds great, but really I just want my mom back. All other options are undesirable to me. I want MY MOTHER, not this very nice but confused woman who asks the same questions and tells the same stories again and again. I can love that woman, but that’s not my mom.

She knows very clearly what is going on in business and politics right now, but she can’t accurately remember old events, conversations, plans for the future, and personal things anymore. It’s a pity I have almost zero interest in business, and we already agree politically on most topics. We both operate on the “if you don’t have something nice to say, it’s better not to say anything at all” system, so we don’t discuss faith, religion, her decline, etc. She minimizes and I bite my tongue or grit my teeth. I can tell by the set of my jaw and the tension in my legs and my stomach that I’m holding everything inside.  Hopefully the levee doesn’t break.

Soooo, I’m depressed today, and, for me, the only way out is through. Therefore, I’m going to be depressed today and tonight and hope that tomorrow is a cheerier day. Thank you for your well wishes, thank you very much.

I was a Girl Scout as a kid. I sold cookies, attended camps, learned useful things, and made good (albeit temporary) friends. My favorite part of the camping was always the singing, and I have lots of kind of funny, largely disgusting songs from those days still tucked away in my mind.  (Great Green Gobs of Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts for one.)  When I was at home, my mom and I would sing together a lot, usually songs from musicals or campfire songs. Songs with rounds and harmonies. She had a beautiful voice (to me).  She also sang with her mom and sisters when she was younger. (I say had, not has, only because her voice is not young and strong and clear anymore.)

One of my favorite memories with my mom:
My mom taught me a song that I don’t remember singing in the Girl Scouts, but trying to find it online came up with Girl Scout camp songs over and over.  So, maybe it is. Or, maybe it’s just a a “camp song” / old folk song, as it is song in three-part rounds, somewhat like “Michael, Row the Boat Ashore”. Anyway, here it is. This proves that children’s favorite memories don’t need to be of doing something special and unusual with their parents, it’s the interaction that is important, not the event.

I don’t know enough about music to say what kind of a tune it is, other than to say that the notes are unusual, full of half notes and minor keys, yet it is easy to sing, as any camp song must be easy.

I just asked my sister-in-law if she knew the song and she didn’t (she’s a campgrounds person from way back), but she said that my “she (my mom) was recently writing music from her head onto blank sheet music to then play on the piano, so she might know what it was.”
My mother, who can’t remember what we just talked about 10 minutes ago, can write music from her head onto blank sheet music to play on the piano.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I’m doing both.

Beloved.