Thoughts of Mortality

This is NOT a suicide note - let me just preface this. I'm not in a sad mood, just a reflective one. Sometime before Mom died - it might've ben two days before she had her stroke - she looked at me thoughtfully and said, "I've had a good life. I've done almost everything I've wanted. I married the love of my life, I've traveled to New York, Hawaii, gone on cruises, been parasailing. I don't want to die, but if I do, I'm ok. I don't have anything left on my bucket list, really." No one can choose when they die (unless they're suicidal or going on a kamikaze mission), and some die too soon. My mom was very upset by the cancer diagnosis, but once she realized that the cancer would kill her, and fast, she stopped being angry. At least, in front of us. I leave for Europe soon, and before I fly I usually send a satirical email to my family with my travel information and information about what to do if my plane crashes - how someone can identify my body. A friend of mine and I used to joke with each other about being careful to avoid fiery car crashes. Death seems so far away, until it's not. I think about my mom's statement a lot. Looking back at my life, I realize all that I've experienced - and if I die next week, then no one can say that I haven't had a full life. I've been to Europe 3 times, been all over the United States (including San Diego, countless trips to NY and Washington, DC, Seattle, and most of the southern states), Mexico, the Cayman Islands. I've seen countless shows on Broadway (getting autographs and pictures of Ralph Fiennes, the emperor from "Star Wars," Jonthan Price, Lucy Arnaz, Sarah Rameriz, David Hyde Pierce), I've conversed online with my favorite Broadway star, I've been on movie sets (eating at the same table as Ben Affleck and almost walking into Alec Baldwin). I've two bachelor degrees and am almost done with my master's. I've run 3 full marathons and 5 half-marathons. I've won fellowships with Fund for Teachers and the Folger Shakespeare Library. I've turned the pages of a First Folio and I've touched a letter written by Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester to his lover, Queen Elizabeth I. I've directed three Shakespeare plays and have acted and sung in countless others. I've dated some interesting characters and am therefore filled with incredible stories from those relationships. I've ridden in a helicopter. I've been a member of a committee on the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. I've learned photography and jewelry making. I am well loved by my students and administrators. I live with an amazing man. I was lucky enough to have a wonderful father and mother, although if I live to be an old woman, I'll have lived my life more without them than with them. So I then I start thinking about MY bucket list. It's not very long. Travel: the Grand Canyon, Bucharest, Budapest, Turkey, Spain. Finish my master's thesis. Get married and have at least one baby (which if I live long enough, will happen). Learn to knit. But honestly, if I die tomorrow, don't be sad. Look at all I've accomplished - before turning 34. I've had a pretty good life. And whenever I do die (hopefully it won't be for a very long time), I'll have my parents waiting for me.

Healing....

Healing from my mother's death is coming alone slowly. I'll never be fully healed, but I'm getting better. I've been out of school this week, and honestly that's done a load of good. I haven't been able to really be a couch potato since in a long time - where I can just sit, read, watch tv, exercise, and not really stress about things. I'm working here and there for the summer, but am going to consciously try to keep the stress to a minimum and, frankly, be a bum for as much as I can. That said, I still need to work on my thesis - so how much of a bum can I really be? As I cleaned out a closet the other day (trying to decrease the amount of "stuff" I have), I had an epiphany. My parents dying isn't unfair at all. Unfair means that something inordinately unjustified happened - but death is a fact of life. Everyone dies, everyone experiences the death of a loved on - and that's fair. Life IS fair because everyone experiences tragedies, and frankly others have it worse than I do. Instead, I'm choosing to say that my parents' death is unfortunate. I'm starting to realize what a great support group I have. Billy is wonderful and is so protective of me - I honestly don't know what I'd do without him. He makes me laugh so much, and being with him is so easy - I don't have to worry about saying the wrong thing, or worry that he won't like something that I do, or worry that my intelligence and/or zest intimidates him. I can't handle stress and difficulty right now, and thank heavens there isn't a great deal in our relationship. If we weren't together, I'm sure I would be a hermit right now. And we're going to Poland together in the fall, which will be a wonderful trip to help me survive the first holiday season without my parents. Not only is my boyfriend supportive, but I have my own group of friends as well as my mom's. One of my mother's dear friends is "adopting" us - we'll be spending Father's Day with them, and other upcoming holidays. She also will be the adopted grandmother to our children, which means a lot to us. Another of Mom's dear friends will be taking me on a trip to Budapest or Turkey in December- we both love international travel and she has international tickets that she needs to use this year. So, I'm ok. I have good days and bad days, and sometimes I remember things I don't want to - like how Mom looked in her final days, how she was angry when she found out she had lung cancer, how excited she was to hear I might be going back to Italy (where I was to buy her a rosary from the Vatican). And I remember her weakly telling me, "I'll miss you" when I left her hospital room for a couple of hours one day to run errands, how she asked me to stay with her until she fell asleep, how she told me every day she could talk that she loved me. How she stopped waking up. Life is fair. It's a cycle. It's not always happy and it's not always fortunate, but her death was going to happen sometime. It's very unfortunate that it happened while she was young, but she's with my father and that makes me smile. I still miss her every day, and I'm sure future posts will still be about her. She was a lady, and I cherish the bits of her that she passed down to me. Ciao.

After Mom

I have a new life - AP: After Parents. Being an orphan sucks, albeit being an adult orphan. I can't stop thinking of all the milestones in which I will have no parental representation - my marriage, my kids being born, kids' first Christmases, graduating with my master's degree, etc. I was ready for Dad not being there - I'm used to him not being here by now - but now, without Mom, doing some things just seems pointless. I will not go to my graduation ceremony in December for my master's and my wedding will be extremely small - no big white wedding with tons of flowers and a huge tiered cake and tuxedos and matching expensive bridesmaids dresses. That sucks most of all. I still want it, but with no family (except my sister and a very small group of cousins), it all just seems empty. Plus I don't want to cry as I imagine what it would be like with parents. Thank goodness summer is almost here. I sometimes feel as though I'm a wire, too tightly wound and about to snap. At least with the summer here, I can relax, sleep in, take my time to do things. And with the summer comes my trip to Italy and Portugal. I am so thankful for the nonprofit organization funding my teacher grant. It came at the perfect time.

Bittersweet

So, I've been an orphan for 2.5 weeks. I'm finding myself very stressed and I am trying to make a point to do something nice for myself every day, even if it's just walking around a park with my camera.

Today, in a moment of bittersweetness, I received a letter - I won a grant that I applied for in January for international teacher professional development. With a teacher friend, we created a personalized plan to study literacy, media, history and art in Italy. Only 25% of the teachers who apply get it - and we got it. 90% expenses paid.

And I couldn't call my mom. Mom knew about it - I applied about the same time she was diagnosed. She asked me to get her a blessed rosary from the Vatican if I get it. I'm still going to get her one, and I'll bury it at my parents' gravesite.

Sweet because I was really hoping I'd get it. Bitter because of my mom. Some of my excitement has diminished.

2 weeks later

Well, I've been an orphan for two weeks. I think I'm handling it well, but I don't really have a lot of time to grieve. I worry slightly that it'll catch up to me during the summer, but as I'm probably not going to teach summer school, I'm ok with that.

I'm learning so many things about life/death - life insurance, rights of succession, IRS tax codes for decedents, estate taxes, etc. I'm also realizing that I need to organize my life a lot better; if I get into a fatal, fiery car crash then Billy is screwed because I have stuff everywhere and I haven't kept my personal, financial, and legal papers as organized as I should. I know every day is precious and we never know when we pass, but hopefully I'll make it for a couple of more months. I'll organize during the summer. Right now I can barely get the energy and motivation to get off the couch. I haven't really worked out much this month, and I'm honestly not caring that my house isn't that clean. It's a small thing, and I'm learning not to sweat the small things.

I'm so full of emotions right now that I can't afford anything else emotionally trying. I don't want to end feuds between friends, or get into arguments about stuff that doesn't matter. I can barely feel sympathetic for another sick family member. It's that I don't care, but my emotions are so out there that it's hard feeling sympathy when I'm going through hell right now.

In fact, I'm too tired to keep typing. I've been cleaning out Mom's house all day, and I'm tired.

Too late

Mom died a few days ago. We found the cancer too late for any options to work.

I have no parents left, which is an odd feeling. My parents are back together in heaven, which is a very comforting thought because Mom missed Dad so very much. But I feel very alone. I have my sister and Billy (who asked for Mom's permission to marry me when she could still talk and was cognizant of her surroundings), and I have so many friends, but I don't have anywhere else to go. I could always go to Mom's house, but now that house is going to be sold. I'm thinking about buying it (I need a house anyway for all the antique furniture I've inherited), and it might financially be an excellent move since my sister said that she'll let me buy it for how much Mom owed on it instead of what it's worth (so that when I sell, the responsibility will be mine).

I don't know. There's so much to take in, so much to do, so many options ahead.

Downhill fast

So, in 17 days, she had radiation and chemo. This morning, she had a stroke, caused by one of the brain tumors to bleed. Things aren't good, I'm stressed, Mom's stressed and paralyzed partially, and surgery is not an option.

:-(

Positive

The last 10 days have been extremely hectic.

Mom had a biopsy, which came back as positive for small-cell carcinoma, with metastasis to a lymph node and brain. She spent many days in an ICU to watch for seizures, and has started receiving radiation treatment to shrink the tumors in her brain. Once the brain tumors are controlled, she'll start chemo for the lungs.

I've given up as many extra-curricular things as possible, and I'm spending almost every day with her, helping her around the house, pay bills, etc. She is so weak that she barely gets out of bed.

I'm getting better at balancing my life and hers, and I'm caught between feeling guilty for not being there all the time and feeling tired and wishing I had time to do my own laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning, etc. Luckily Billy is there for me, helping whenever he can (and planning a weekend getaway so that I can rest and not get caretaker's burnout).

We are very much still living day-to-day. Her outcome is not that good, and we're doing what we can to help her with whatever she wants. I haven't cried in a few days, but my emotions are definitely scattered, and I think I'm having mini-panic attacks. I'm too young for this. I'm too young to be without at least one parent, too young to have to go through my mother's things and put them in order, too young to feel this helpless.

Cancer sucks.

The Waiting...

My emotion today: anxiety. Secondary emotion: fear

I am having the hardest time adjusting to the fact that I have to give up control. I am a planner; I am happiest when I write the dates of important events so that I can work my mundane, every-day activities around them. I've had to give up that luxury and live day-by-day. I feel so out of control, and I have been struggling with everything because of that. I feel like I'm letting down my students because I have no idea what I'm teaching next week - I have to see how many days and which days I'm going to miss to take my mom to the hospital. I can't definitely attend a gathering because I want to keep my schedule open in case my mom wants/needs me. I am giving up everything extra in order to help care for my mom, and I'm filled with anxiety about that, too. Call me selfish, but I am afraid of losing myself. I'm afraid of becoming ragged, of getting so stressed out that I will ruin things in my life, I'm edgy and worried if that's going to take a toll on my relationship with Billy (whose father is sick himself). I'm worried that my job is going to fail. And on top of all this, I feel guilty that I'm thinking about myself. I've read that caregivers must take care of themselves, that they must eat well and work out and take times for themselves so that they can take care of others. But, knowing me, I'm afraid of not paying attention to my own needs. I'll feel guilty for not worrying and caring about my mom all the time. My mom doesn't have many people - and I'm one of the most important people to her. And she's not doing well.

On a non-emotional note, we're going in for the biopsy tomorrow. Over the past two days we've been jerked around by different doctors and hospitals. First, the biopsy would be Wednesday. Then Thursday. Then next Monday. Now it's back to Thursday. They'll do the needle biopsy. No, they'll do one through the brachial area. Her lung might collapse. It'll be done in radiology. It'll be done in the doctor's office. It'll be done in the hospital.

Finally we know for sure when and where. Now there's the waiting. Waiting for it to happen. Waiting while it happens. Waiting after it happens. Soon, soon we will know the details and can go from there.

Fond farewell, old life. Hello, cancer, I wish I didn't know you.

My 9th graders read Victor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning, a nonfiction book by a psychiatrist. He, a Holocaust survivor, used his experiences in the concentration camps to support his theory of logotherapy, outlining what it takes for a person to survive a traumatic experience. He focuses on the following arguments:
1) Have love in your life
2) Focus on the good things in your life
and, most importantly
3) Accept that your old life is no more- and don't pine for it. Focus on your new roles, your new life.

I have to now apply his theories to my life. While I am not experiencing anything like the Holocaust, I'm venturing into a traumatic experience of my own.

My mother has cancer. She has a bad kind: lung cancer that has metastasized. She's been sick, but we never thought it was cancer. In retrospect, however, the diagnosis isn't surprising. She's been smoking most of her life, she's lost some weight in the past six months, she battled with "pneumonia" for a bit. Now, however, she is extremely weak and can barely eat. She's going in for the biopsy this week, but the CAT scan showed three tumors and her doctor said that things are not good.

I'm changing the direction of my blog, because my life is changing. My thesis will take a back step to my mom, I'm going to take an indefinite break from theatre, I'm going to have to approach work from a new angle.

The hardest parts so far are...
1) My mixed emotions. My emotions are running all over the place - guilt, fear, anger, extreme sadness. I haven't stopped crying since Friday. I am angry with my sister. I feel guilt for wanting to go to the gym or not spending all my time with my mom. I'm going to see a therapist to deal with these emotions, because I have to be a fighter for my mom.
2) Changing my lifestyle from one of a planner to one of a day-to-day person. With my mom being sick, and with only my sister and I to look after her, I can no longer plan activities early. I don't know when my mom will need me and I want to make every moment available to her. If our fears are correct, she could have as little as 4 months to live, as much as a year. I told my students today that I can't even tell them what we're doing in class Friday. I might need to take my mom to the doctor.

So, I am now the loved one of a cancer patient, one who is most likely to die from the disease. As my father is dead, I might not have a parent at my wedding, my child might not have a baby photo taken with "Grammy." If I live a ripe, old age, I'll have spent more than half my life without my parents. As it is, I've been alive longer than my dad has been deceased.

Thank God I have Billy and a job I love and friends who will be there for me. I'm going to need everyone of them as I get through this, and as I help my mom get through it the best she can.