Archive for August, 2009

Another Visit

So, I went to see Mom again on Wednesday. She’s doing very well, outside of the paralyzed voice box. There’s one round of chemo left, and then radiation treatment starts.

There was a rather surreal moment during this visit, when she was talking about how well she’s doing. She said that her oncologist, while he won’t come right out and say it with any real certainty, seems to be “optimistic” that she’ll probably have two more years. Then she said, “That’s all I want. I’ll be satisfied with two years.”

It still feels very strange to talk to my mother about her death. Even though it looks as good as it can possibly look right now, there’s a finite amount of time left. By that I mean, we have knowledge of the approximate amount of time she has left to live. Talking about this with her feels more “unreal” to me than anything else. It’s difficult, yes, but it’s more surreal than anything.

I know that this is the natural way of things. Children are born, they grow up, and they reach adulthood; as they do this, their parents age, grow older and older, and eventually die. While I’m coming to terms with being able to talk about it, I still feel torn sometimes. There is a part of me that wishes I didn’t have to talk about it with her. That she would simply be healthy again, and one day cross over with no warning, for no other reason than she had aged to the point where it was time.

That’s not the situation. She has a disease, and we know about it. It’s killing her, and we need to talk about it with each other. I never knew that there could be so much to say, and such a relatively short amount of time to say it.

At the same time, I’m more grateful than I can say that I have this time to say what I need to say to her. I feel like I’m living a paradox. But then, human beings are nothing, if not paradoxical.

So, I plug along, visiting Mom, talking with her, and we both do and say what we need to. For now, I’m grateful that I don’t have to start picking up the phone and calling people, telling them to come because time is short. My daughter called me yesterday, to ask after her grandmother; she wanted to be sure that Grandma was up to a phone call. It was such a huge relief to me to be able to tell her that her grandmother is doing well, and that a phone call would be really welcome right now.

It will be an ongoing process here. One that I hope and pray that I’ll be capable of coping with relatively well…


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Back To Mom

For just a short post…

I went there last Tuesday to visit. All of the lights were on, but no one answered the door. Since they don’t lock the door unless they’re gone, I tried it, it was open, and I went in. I found my Mom and step-dad both asleep in their room. So, I tip-toed back out of the house.

Saturday, I called, because there was (finally) an excellent Red Sox/Yankees game on television. (The Sox were kickin’ Yankee butt!) My step-dad answered the phone, then gave it to Mom. The first thing she said was, “Where have you been?” When I told her that I’d found them sleeping on Tuesday, she said, “Oh, well, I’d just had my chemo. Next time, just wake us up.”

It’s interesting that while in some ways I still have more than a healthy dose of respect (read, fear) for my mother, I feel perfectly comfortable in defying her about something like this. She tried to turn it into an argument, insisting that if I ever go there and find either her or both of them sleeping, I should just wake them up. Eventually, she acquiesced – something that is not usually in my mother’s nature.

I’ll be heading over there either today or tomorrow, I’m not yet sure which. But if I find her asleep, I will not be waking her. If nothing else, I’ll sit down and watch television until she wakes up on her own. And if Mom doesn’t like it, tough. I’ll still be there to visit when she’s awake.

I kind of like this new defiance I have. Unlike when I was a teenager, it’s actually justified.

She’ll just have to get over it…

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As some of you might have noticed, I have chosen to moderate comments. I seldom need to refuse to post a comment from a reader, but at times, it’s handy to be able to do so before the comment ever becomes public.  For those very, very few of you whose comments have never showed up here, I’d ask you to keep some things in mind, if you expect to see your comments actually posted:

If you choose to fling accusations at a person I have written about here, then be prepared to furnish evidence that will back up your accusations. The same goes for others who have commented to my posts, and for me, for that matter. The internet provides far too much opportunity to fling baseless accusations at people; if you cannot back up your claims, then your comment will not be posted. Further, when claiming to identify yourself as a “close family member,” then prove that to me, if you can.

While I have no objection to anonymity online, I have to view people who are spewing those accusations from behind the username “Anonymous” with just a bit of suspicion. If you want some good, old fashioned, I can say whatever the hell I choose to say kind of free-for-all, then go visit usenet. This is my blog, and I do have control over the content here. While I don’t generally like to exercise censorship, unless you can meet the above criteria when accusing people of something, I will censor your comments.

I do not view comments such as that kindly. And while I have no idea of who you may be, the originating IP address of the commenting person has been noted and saved. You have caught my attention enough that I feel I need to make this post, but you have not even come close to making it worth my trouble to do the tracking of that address. Yet…

Those readers to whom this post does not apply know who they are. If you’re one of those readers, just disregard what I’ve said – it does not apply to you. For the others – specifically, the person who posted just this evening – all I can say is that you need to grow up. Maybe if you behave yourself, Mommy will let you start wearing big boy pants one day.

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