I'll be completely honest from the get go of this blog. What I've written is personal and open. It's written in a stream of consciousness that is a bit frayed at this point.
Twas the night before Christmas....
How many times have we heard this intro? Normally this is followed by a nice account of a jolly, fat man delivering presents to children around the world. My version follows a slightly different path.
Christmas Eve for a lot of folks is a time of great memories and merriment as the spend time with family and loved ones. This hallowed day has taken a new twist for my family in recent years. Yes, we spend Christmas Eve in one of the many emergency rooms in the area. As I write, I'm actually at an ED (they prefer emergency department now over room) writing this blog on my cell phone as we wait for the results of a CAT scan.
The back story is this: I've written before how my Mum is fighting Breast Cancer for the second time. This time around it has metastasized in her bone marrow effecting her red blood cell and platelet numbers. That has made it very difficult for her to do a lot of activities because of the amount of movement required for them. Recently we discovered that her Breast Cancer has spread to her stomach which brought us here today.
Last year we spent Christmas Eve in another ED due to a broken tibia and fibula that my Pop experienced after a fall. My Pop, being the discerning man that he is, asked that we take him to Jewish Hospital because he wanted to be sure the staffs would be there on Christmas.
So here we are, Christmas Eve in a hospital room lit not by a tree and lights, but by EKGs and IV machines. It might seem bizarre to some when I say this time is the most concerned I've ever been going to a hospital. My Pop has undergone surgeries to remove great portions of his large and small intestines, to have vertebraes fused together, and to have entire heart valves replaced. But that never really fazed me much. I always had a sense that the man was invincible, that regardless what happened he would walk away from it like he had every other time. My mom has always been the rock in our family, and in a thousand lifetimes I could never repay her for what she has done for my father and me. I'm concerned about and for her.
I'm going to put into writing a conversation I've had with myself dozens of times and possibly once or twice with other people. At what point does this culmination of unfortunate circumstances become too much? When does breaking down happen and why? How long can someone continue to presist with these things placed on their shoulders? They're answers I'm afraid to know or acknowledge. My Pop told me that when things first got difficult for him he adopted a simple credo, "Do the next thing," and it reminds me a lot of Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade" where he writes, "Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do or die."
So that's what we do, that's what I do. Keep pushing forward. To stop to think or reason is to invite the opportunity to quit. Life isn't just, but we can do our best to make outcomes favorable for ourselves while living a decent way.
I hope everyone this holiday season has taken the time to let the ones they love know that they do. Please, I ask one simple favor of you if you haven't, make sure that they know you care for them sincerely.
OK, I lied, I have two favors to ask. If you see me around, don't ask me how I'm doing or how I've been because I don't want to reflect. My Mum is still in the hospital and waiting to her from her oncologist on Tuesday. With any luck we'll have a few more answers then and a course of action. I hope everyone had a great Christmas and are looking forward to a bright New Years.
drh
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