C is not for cookie...: Tragedy

I haven't written much lately. Each night I plan to write, but it hasn't seemed to work lately. I am tired and sleep trumps blog posts.

For the most part I don't think it is "cancer tired" as much as "mom tired." When the cancer came back I said I was going to take it easier and to some degrees I am, but overall, not really. I'm worried about making sure everything is taken care of in case I do get really sick. With two small children that means laundry washed and put away, a bag of special treats (books, toys, etc.) always packed and updated, and all the basic kid food staples well stocked. Same thing for the pets. This alone can be exhausting.

Then I'm still trying to manage school work, and real work, though I will be the first to admit I'm not working as many hours as I am supposed to per week. Work has been amazing and supportive, but I have a hard time not feeling guilty. I feel like I'm letting work down and I feel like I'm letting my family down because I'm not making what I am supposed to. At the same time, the days I work, I come home and crash shortly after getting the kids to bed. Sometimes I stay up, but if I do, it's only to veg out and watch tv.

I am overwhelmed by all I feel like I need to do. Everyone tells me to take it easy, but that is always easier said than done. So many people want to help, but I haven't quite figured out how to have people help get naps for myself and maintain consistency and stability for the kids, etc. It's really not as easy as it sounds. Plus how do you have someone help decide what is junk mail and what isn't? Geoff can't even do that sometimes.

I work in a profession that specializes in delegation. While I know that I prefer to do things myself, I'm also pretty good about delegating or asking for help. Or so I thought. Right now, I just feel like there is too much to do and not enough of me to go around.

Unfortunately under our circumstances, money is the opposite. We are fortunate enough to have great insurance, but we have medical bills coming in because our flex plans haven't fully reimbursed our deductibles yet. We have the "Cancer Cell Sale" and we used some of the money to do our spa weekend, but we are afraid to use more because we don't know what's ahead. Meanwhile I've missed enough work that I didn't get a paycheck for awhile and even now when I do, it's not always what it needs to be, so we are literally living paycheck to paycheck.

I have always considered myself to be a fairly private person. I have always taken pride in being stubbornly independent. It's not that I feel like I have anything to prove, I just like to do things myself. Actually I guess I like to prove it to myself. This experience has changed all that. I don't feel like I can do it all myself anymore. I don't like trying to do everything myself anymore.

Today I spent the better part of the day frustrated, emotional, and crying. The entire day felt like a tragedy to me. I was worried about dying and not seeing my kids grow up. I was worried about the prognosis I was given and if I was being naive by choosing to be optimistic and live. I was worried how we are going to pay the mortgage, and the bills. I worried about what will happen this summer when I am not working or if I can't work. I thought about cutting off the cable and whether we should be making more sacrifices or if our expectations are too high.

I felt guilty too. I feel guilty for all the help we have received. It's overwhelming really. We have help with housekeeping, and we have had so many meals, or meal gift cards, or grocery gift cards, or gas cards, or financial help, or help with our pets from doggy daycare, to food, to vet help. Then there are all the books, and "pick me ups." I feel guilty because I'm terrible with "thank you" cards and because I feel like I am absorbing more help from the universe than I am able to give back. Ok, I admit it. I'm not very good at accepting help. I appreciate all of it, but it is hard for me to think it is really ok.

So I cried. Then I got ornery at Geoff because of everything I felt I needed to do. I was frustrated because I felt like I was doing everything and it still wasn't enough and hell, I don't even know...so I cried some more.

Really it wasn't a good day.

Then I checked my email and saw an email from Geoff's brother saying he and his wife were ok. They live in Boston and had spent part of the day at the marathon, but had headed back to their labs (they are doing their post-docs) before any of the tragedy struck. This was before I had even seen anything on Yahoo, so I saw the first couple of news reports and realized that my problems were insignificant compared to a lot of other families. I pondered what the lives of those injured or their families are like today or will be like in the days ahead and I realized that there is no way to really understand other than living it.

People have no idea what our live is really like. Some days it is easier than it seems like it should be, and other days it is overwhelmingly hard and scary. I can't think of my own future right now because I have no idea what that picture includes. I used to dream about being done with school and being a midwife and rarely I can think about that, but that's about it. Even picturing my kids in kindergarten is too painful because I don't know if I will get to see it. It's incredibly painful...and in some way there are hundreds of families going through their own nightmares right now.

...and all I can do is pray for hope and peace for all of them.

As I was skimming the headlines, I saw something about tax day being associated with tragedies. I had to glance at the little date on the lower left of my computer screen to see that it was in fact April 15th. I usually do our taxes in February or early March so I pay no attention to "tax day." I had never realized there were "tax day tragedies" before. Then it hit me. Two years ago today (almost exactly from when I am writing this post) one of the loves of my life died. For me it was one of the biggest tragedies.

Jeffy in 2009

Jeffy, my dog, had been sick and was spending the night at the emergency clinic on IV fluids while I was at work. Everyone thought he was stable. I was annoyed when I dropped him off because the clinic was busy and they left me sitting with him for over an hour and made me late for work. In retrospect, I wish I would have spent that time completely focused on him instead of grumbling anxiously about how I needed them to hurry up. I honestly had no idea that I wouldn't see him as planned the next morning. Instead I got a phone call a few hours later telling me that he wasn't doing very well and I might want to come see him. As I was making arrangements for my patients and trying to leave work I got another phone call telling me he was coding.

Jeffy sleeping with baby E

I would have done anything for him. Anything. I knew from his previous status he wasn't doing well and his prognosis was "very poor." I knew the right thing was to tell them to let him go, and the words came from my mouth, but not my heart. It was one of the most painful things I have ever had to do and honestly, I've never recovered from it.

Later that night I sat in a room in the emergency clinic with the shell of my beloved Jefferson against my massively pregnant belly (Ella). The room happened to be the same room of the same emergency clinic that we said good-bye to the only other dog we have had together on Christmas day of 2008 when I was pregnant with E.

Silly Chester

It's been two years and yet it still hurts like it was yesterday.

Originally I had no idea what the date was today. I couldn't figure out why everything seemed to be so wrong, but once I saw the date I immediately understood the tragic significance. For me, it is a date I will never fully recover from. A piece of my heart left me that day.

Two years later a piece of my heart has left me again as I think about all the people hurt today in Boston. I can't even wrap my head around "killed" because I can't deal with idea of death right now.

I'm sorry if it is shallow of me to talk about my bad day and my loss in comparison to today's events. Sometimes it feels as if death is always hovering around a corner from me waiting for me to take note of it, and today seemed to be a day filled with it in one way or another.

Tomorrow (today) will be better. Assuming my labs are good, it will be a chemo day and the only death that I'm going to worry about is the not-so-tragic death of cancer cells.