Ron's transplant was Thursday and so far, so good. His "blood levels" (couldn't get more descriptive info) are expected to continue to drop for about five days after the surgery, during which time he'll feel increasingly more weak and sick. The next two and a half to three weeks after that are the dangerous areas, during which time death is most likely to occur. But again, so far, so good.
September 2003 Archives
I came across some writing of mine, the actual pen and paper kind, and thought I'd post it here.
Is there a way to capture good times or are they doomed to be fleeting? Sometimes I wonder if it should even be attempted or if times like these are so sweet that extended consumption would only end in bellyache. I don't care too much either way. I've got an insatiable sweet tooth and am not the first human to say, "Give me more good times!" In fact, it could easily be argued the story of mankind is one of simple pleasure seeking. But, the more pleasure the better? Stories spring to mind of beautiful, popular celebrities who "have it all" and yet are one day found with a gun in their hand and a hole in their head, a gruesomely strong argument against indulgence. On the other hand, what's wrong with an idyllic happily-ever-after (or its reality-based counterpart)? I believe it can exist.
All these nonsensical ramblings stem from my repetitive thoughts of, longing for, a continuance of what I have now. The only thing I can do is be saturated in the moment, to be fully open, feeling, giving, without fear-based restraint. Always hoping for the best and doing what I can to develop it. Basic stuff. Obvious knowledge. "Enjoy it while it lasts, folks!" (See the hidden pessimism in that?)
There have been many days where, approaching home, I was nearly afraid to look, hoping that as I came around the bend I'd see the New Guy's truck still parked in front of my apartment. Every day I lived with a bit of fear that he might-- what if?!-- leave.
Today is the first time in four weeks I came around the bend to park next to an empty space. The New Guy has gone.
With my blessing. He's promised to return for my birthday next weekend.
People ask me if we're breaking up, if he's going to be staying here for good, etc. and I have no answers. I'm fairly comfortable with that, though. I've come to think of the New Guy more and more as a very good friend, which I think is more important than boyfriend-- which is not to say that there aren't deeper feelings attached and which is not to mention that the "boyfriend" label entails significance of its own. I need friendship more than anything. Somehow, it seems friendship can encompass love rather easily (I love my friends) but you can love someone and lack friendship.
It's taken me all night to get these rough words strewn across the screen, so I give up, for now, and head to a bath. The hot and lonely kind.
The New Guy is going home tomorrow with promise to return next week for my birthday.
I'm feeling entirely too hostile. I have this problem of avoiding hurting someone's feelings or otherwise upsetting them at all costs. I don't want to be "mean". To this end I refuse to voice things I should...simple things, really, that probably could've been said with little consequence, but I just keep wanting to swallow it. Things bother me, but I tell myself it's no big deal, I'm a big person, etc. and other such things to justify my lack of communication. Then guess what? I bet you can guess. Resentment builds. Boils.
I didn't flunk my Diet Therapy exam!
Life rocks sometimes.
I was thinking, if I just did one thing after another after another-- well, I still wouldn't ever get done, but I might be okay! And I say this with optimism!
More soon.
And the New Guy might be leaving.
Always one thing on top of another, isn't it?
For some reason I find unbearable the feeling of being unlovable. I mean, okay, I'm not unlovable, right? I have a logical, thinking mind here. But some childhood trauma or who-knows-what has this horrible, deep-lurking monstrous blackness taunting me that I'm a bad and unlovable person, and with the New Guy apparently contemplating whether or not he wants to be with me and unable to anymore say that he loves me, I can't help but have my moments of succumbing to fear and irrational emotion.
I have just lost my health insurance.
I am trying not to worry.
I have lost my insurance due to a needless and deliberate action of my ex-husband. I am trying not be furious and full of hate.
I have had to use my insurance quite extensively over the past, for surgery, for emergency room visits, birth control, and a myriad of other things that cropped up. I guess I should be grateful for all I've received rather than resentful that I no longer have this blessing.
I've realized, though, that I want to be furious with my ex. I want to be worried. I feel I have a right; I feel the situation calls for it; I feel I have been wronged. But then I asked myself, why do I want to feel angry and worried and sad? And thus, though I am feeling very upset, I am going to make the deliberate decision not to be, but to instead have faith and gratefulness.
The kids will be home tonight.
I just said good-bye to my father-in-law.
Former father-in-law. What do I call him? Father seems too presumptuous, even though he was my father from the age of seventeen on. When I got married and had children so young, it was Ron and his wife (my husband's parents) who took us in and supported us emotionally and otherwise. I've spent many a day over the years with Ron. While my husband was in the process of growing up we lived with him. He was retired and I was a stay-at-home mom, so it was me and Ron together, day in day out.
I love Ron dearly. I don't want to fall into that which I patiently tolerate, the practice of painting the deceased to look like saints. The thing is, Ron has cancer. I was there with him when he got sick, while he sought diagnosis, and by his side at the doctor's office when he received the explanation that he had late stage non-Hodgkins lymphoma.
I've been there for all of it, until now. He leaves in the morning to face bone marrow transplant, an experience I won't describe. Suffice it to say it's expected to be a most trying experience with only a 50% chance of survival. When I say I may never see Ron again, it's not much of an exaggeration. I don't know what he thinks of me, his "ex"-daughter-in-law, but I gave him a hug and told him I loved him, and cried as he walked away.
I didn't flunk my Advanced Nutrition exam!
The Texas guy called tonight. That was strange. Hadn't heard from him in awhile. Just a friendly chat, exchanging news. Weird.
I feel weird. I'm going to bed to face another exam tomorrow (different class, same professor).
Things just continue here. I go to school, I study, I do housestuff, I spend time with the New Guy and the kids. I'm happy, although often overwhelmed. I've noticed I seem to have this problem of viewing everything in life as a chore. "*sigh*," I think to myself, "I have to [fill in the blank]." I think this about everything. What's wrong with wanting to go to school and work? I'm still combating this mentally. I do want to go to school and work, study and do homework and clean my house. I do!
I'm really happy and really comfortable with the New Guy, and I'm grateful for every minute that he's here. I know I've said this repeatedly, but he's a real friend, and that's such a great thing. How can you have a "romantic" relationship without a really good friendship underneath? Is there such a thing? (I realize now that's exactly what I had with the Texas guy; no friendship. He was never a friend.) So I've got this friend--here with me!--for the first time in awhile-- and that's a gigantic blessing.
Pardon my rambling.
I'm home today with a girl who insists she's sick and seems to probably be so, a boy who says he is, too, although I can't tell if it's just a case of wanting to be like his big sis--while I'm missing a major exam and two other classes. My day has consisted of taking temperatures, soothing out the "fairness" of the situation for the one child who has to go to school, explaining the significance of today's date, and driving to school, and is now going in the direction of preparing breakfast for four.
Hope you are all well.
I am the worst mother in the world.
I just dropped my son off at daycare for no good reason. I mean, I don't know, he was supposed to go there today. But what was I doing that prevented me from keeping him home with me where he belongs? Nothing. I could've kept him, and yet I didn't, and that makes me the very worst mother.
He cried, though he tried to be brave, when I left him. I cried, too.
I don't think I'm going to do that again. From now on, J. can stay with me on Mondays, my day "off". Whatever I need to get done can be completed with J. at my side.
Let me whine a bit.
I'm tired of not getting home until ten or eleven or midnight and then having so much to do. I'm tired. Tired, tired, tired. You know what I want more than anything right now? To crawl into bed and crash. But I've got laundry and dishes and hours of studying, and that's if I only do the very bare minimum, and then I have to get up and go to work again tomorrow.
Yeah, I'm whining, my life is all my choices and it's not that hard, but I'm tired.
Well, things go on as before, except now the New Guy is here and life is better because of it. I can't think of an improved or more accurate way to say it: it's a real pleasure having his company and a real joy each time I see him. He met me on campus today for lunch; I'd forgotten how wonderful such a simple thing can be. After school we picked wild flowers and watched a train go by. We went on a job hunt on the air force base and visited my mom and had coffee ice cream with plenty of hot fudge. We've talked and worked and played, done lots of laughing and smiling, and talked some more. (Someone I can talk to!)
It just feels right being with him, and I'm happy.
He's still here, and I'm a bundle of nerves. It took awhile, upon leaving my marriage, to get used to being alone. Every time I turned around, I was alone. Every time I needed someone, I was alone. Suddenly, for the first time in pretty literally years, someone is here. Every time I turn around, he's here. Every time I need someone, he's here. It's a real adjustment. [Side note: If I cook one more thing that's not-so-good while he's here I'll de-apron myself permanently.] He's absolutely fantastic. Having him here is absolutely fantastic, and thus, I find myself living in constant fear he's going to disappear. Change his mind. Especially when it comes to the kids... I just can't relax. The kids love him in the way they usually reserve for beloved and attentive relatives. They never cease excitedly calling for more of this guy's attention and it makes me deeply uneasy. "Leave him alone!" I admonish, to no avail.
A childless person can't just step into a world of children. (Can they?)
I fear so many things it would be pointless to list them all. I'm seemingly so far behind in school already, having only just begun, I'm frightened and panicky. It's all a little overwhelming. I never have an effect on the house's cleanliness, there's always a host of other obligations to be tended to-- a list of things that keeps growing when I haven't even made a dent in what was on the list yesterday! I keep going and going and going and still my nails aren't done and the laundry's in piles and I need to go the store and wash the dishes and take a shower and study even though I just went to the store and washed the dishes and showered and studied, etc.
And the thing is, really, everything's fine. Great! It's all these fears that are eating me.
My world has changed drastically in a moment. The New Guy has been visiting, and this time, well... he didn't leave.
