She's 93. He's 4. They are the best of friends. I bring Max to see her and I tell her stories, and she tells me things - sometimes she tells me the same thing three or four times and then she tells me again the next time we see her - but I don't mind. I used to talk to my mother all the time, we never stopped talking, it seemed, until she wasn't there anymore and I talked .........but she didn't answer. So I really don't mind when Anna talks, even when she repeats things.
Tonight I called her and we talked for almost an hour. She and I swear a bit, and it makes me laugh to hear her. But then she told me.........she had an MRI............and she has cancer.
When Max and I were certified for therapy work, they told me not to get attached to any of the people we visit. Well so much for that.
I planned on writing more frequently, but the best laid plans, and all that hoohaw........
Been having trouble with my eyes for the past couple months, and it finally came to a head about two weeks ago. I went for a checkup and learned that my eyes are swollen and there's fluid on the corneas and "OMG you CANNOT drive!" according to the doctor. Well, slap me and call me Miss Daisy. Bear was wonderful, he never complained about taking me around - and I made sure to not criticize his driving at all. Something interesting happened. I found that by not being able to get in the car and dash off hither and yon, I eliminated a great deal of stress. Suddenly I had time to weed the bank, plant some veggies, do laundry and put it away, read on the porch and play in the field with Max. There was so much more time, I could do what I really wanted to do, and spend my hours and minutes in joyful things -instead of behind the wheel of a car, going somewhere, anywhere, that I really didn't want to go!
So I'm thinking. I'm thinking about making some changes to my routine. I CAN drive again, and immediately dashed off to the store, ran to school, spent the afternoon going here and there, and then rushing around to make dinner, do the laundry, etc. Suppose I take one day and do all the running, all the errands, just on that day? Sure, I still have to go to work - two days a week - that's not what I mean - it's the trips to the store, to the Post Office, to the store again, to another store! I think I'll give it a try! And perhaps I'll even have more time to blog.
I wasn't going to post. May is very difficult - first I have to get through Mother's Day, and if you have a mom and you're complaining about her, STFU, because there is NO pain like the one you're gonna feel when she's gone. And it never goes away. It gets better, it gets easier, but it's never gone. Every single day, I miss her, as much as I did the day she died.
Poppa died on May 18. He was buried on May 20. It was Mother's 80th birthday, and she said he made sure that the family gathered for her. We got her the biggest bouquet of flowers I'd ever seen, even though the lady at the flower shop said she didn't think it was a good idea - what did she know about how much my mother loved flowers? I remember going around to the grandchildren and saying, "I need a dollar!" and one told the next and there were dollars coming at me from everywhere.
I miss my Poppa. He died four years before Mother, and I still miss his quiet strength, his sense of humor, his really really aggravating habit of taking games way too seriously, and his smell. I miss the way he smelled. Like cigarettes and sweat and hard work and books. And Irish Spring soap.
May 27 is Betty's birthday. She was my best friend, the sister who was always there for me, to stand up for me, defend me, and tease me unmercifully whenever possible. She cut my hair, she talked to me ALL the time, about everything, we fought like fiends and we loved each other always. She wasn't supposed to die and leave me, she wasn't supposed to go where I couldn't, she was supposed to wait for me.
When Poppa died, I had a vision of him dancing with Betty, they were spinning around on a dance floor lit by stars, so happy, so healthy, both of them filled with joy.
And now my MIL is dying. One more reason to dread May.
I had a bitch of a time getting to sleep last night. I have a pretty good idea of why, and I'm annoyed with myself for letting something bother me that really shouldn't. I'll catch up tonight, there's no doubt of that!
Max has been acting weird all night. It was 80 degrees today, and about 50 yesterday, he got groomed on Friday, Frontlined yesterday and I think all this has just messed up his system a bit. He seems fine, just tired and sort of uneasy. And of course, I worry about him all the time.
And since it's been 80 degrees today, I didn't light the fire in the fireplace. Another weirdness - we've had a fire every night since November. And will tomorrow night, it's meant to be cold again. Summer is coming, just not fast enough.
Since I got three hours of sleep last night, I'm probably not making a whole lot of sense right now
but not here - the ground is covered with snow, which will surely be gone by tomorrow, but nonetheless, it's here. More is predicted for Friday - the weathermen are in a paroxysm of delight about this, holy cow we're all going to die!
I'm tired of hearing about snow. It seems like the only topic of conversation since October has been snow - will it snow? when? how much? morphed into not again! and HOW much? and yes, it's a two parter!
The really cruel part of all this is that it was almost 70 degrees here about 2 weeks ago - only for a day, yes, but enough to give us all the false impression that this bullshit was done. I felt a loosening in my heart, my chest, I could breathe again - we'd survived another winter and we actually did not all die! And then it got cold again, and if that wasn't enough to ruin my Spring Spirit, snow.
I looked outside and almost started to cry tonight.
The happiness of the day - Max has taken to snuggling up against me on the sofa at night. He pushes his head into my leg and goes off to sleep, soothing me with his presence and his softness, he knows that no matter what, no matter how bad he was today, or how awful the day, I love him, almost as much as I love my Bear, and we are cozy and comfortable together - peaceful for just a bit.
The sadness of the day - missing Betty badly today, for no particular reason.
I think it's allergies, my eyes are watering and my head is full of snot. (Ugly thought, but true!)
Today is the day I feel like I'm on the go all day - if I can ever manage to get moving! Taking Max to visit the nursing home, I think we'll do a short walk first to settle him down a bit. Then back home for a bit, then off to the hospital to visit MIL, back in for her COPD.
Perhaps tonight I can snuggle with my Bear and finish a hat I'm knitting and read and watch the fire.
I smoked for 18 years. I quit for a couple reasons, partly because I couldn't afford it, partly because I knew it was bad for me, partly because I hated being addicted. It was tough, but I managed. It left me with great sympathy for anyone who can't kick the habit, it's much harder than non-smokers realize to let go of those nasty things.
So I marry a man who smokes. I've asked him to quit several times, and he's tried several times, without success.
My Mother-in-law has COPD. She smokes. Still. She's back in the hospital, and once again I've spent an afternoon sitting by her bed, watching a machine breathe for her. It's killing her, she knows it's killing her, and as soon as she gets out of the hospital she'll be begging for someone to please go get her cigarettes.
