What I Want to Say

Posted: 17 May 2011 in therapy
Tags: , ,

I’ve taken to saying holy cow! when what I really want to say is Fuck.

What I want to say is that I’ve been hurtling through this year, but that doesn’t quite fit.  I feel like I’m moving slowly, taking measured steps forward while huge barrels of icy water crash down around me.  What I want to say is that this has been an outstanding year.  But it isn’t really true either.  I’d count my blessings for you but you’d be bored – the list is so long.

On the other hand, since my daughter was born in June, I have watched my mother change from a person I recognized (no matter how I felt about that) to a woman who is a rather unpleasant stranger.  I’ve attributed this to the death of my maternal grandmother in November but really it could be something entirely mental health related.  My grandmother lived with my parents and the fall that precipitated her death was dramatic.  In the end, it wrung my mother dry.  We flew cross-country with our 6 month old in the winter for the memorial and that was the last time I saw any familiar part of my mother.  In April, my paternal grandmother died.  My parents handled this as they characteristically do; in an effort not to upset my sisters and I in any way, they downplayed her imminent death and eventual funeral.  Within 24 hours of hearing she had just days, I was on the opposite coast with my hand on her shoulder as she passed away.  I think there’s a lot I want to say about that.  I know that if I had told my parents I was going prior to rather than after my arrival, they would have discouraged me and been disappointed that I’d gone.  As it was, I felt disobedient for skulking around.  It was important.  That’s what I want to say.  Last week, I learned that the menacing looking black patch on my arm was melanoma and I’ll be heading in for a biopsy of my lymph nodes.  While I keep saying it’s nothing, the odds are unlikely, we caught it early enough, what I want to say is this sort of thing wouldn’t happen to me.  Cancer is just not what I see happening.  I’m pretty sure though, that saying that is a good way to get kicked in the teeth.

It’s a lot for one year.  Even if it’s a health scare and not a health crisis, it’s still two grandmothers (three if you throw in D’s Annabelle in early fall) and one mother short than when I started.  I catch myself trying not to hold still, moving forward steadily, hoping not to get drenched again.

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Comments
  1. Linsey says:

    Life is overwhelming sometimes and the drenching is inevitable but one would hope for a chance to dry out in between or, at the very least, smaller waves. Like those ones that only lap at your ankles. I’m hoping you catch a nice, long break before the next wave, however big or small.

  2. Beth says:

    I’d say fuck. Good luck with the medical stuff. I know it’s scary. By my fourth day of being nauseous, I was beginning to think I had a belly full of tumors or something. It just feels like there’s so much more at stake now that we’ve got Noah. We’ll say a prayer. Let us know if there’s anything we can do.

    • meridith says:

      Beth – I couldn’t believe we had to have a conversation that, for a moment, brought us face to face with single parenting. Fortunately, we’ve got our heads together and I’m in a much more wait and see place.

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