My Mom's Story is My Story (Part 4)

"We may not know how to forgive, and we may not want to forgive; but the very fact we say we are willing to forgive begins the healing practice."

~ Louise Hay

My mom did recover from her mental breakdown, but it took almost a year and a half of continuing small successes before she was back to her normal self. As much as her mental illness took a toll on her, it took a toll on me as well - mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically.

One of the biggest mental, emotional and spiritual tolls came from my family.

I had always been so proud to be a part of my large family - they had been the source of so much joy in my childhood. As I grew into adulthood my sisters became my best friends. My brother, H., the one I had battled against the most while growing up (I'd have "dibs" on the t.v for cartoons on Saturday morning - there was only one t.v. in our family back in those days - and he'd turn the channel, take the channel-changer knob off - no remote controls back then either - and dare me to try to get it back, I'd try and get knocked down in the process) was, by the time I got to college, like my other half - we were best buds.

As we all grew older each of us went our separate was - all but one spread wings far and wide. It was a rarity that we were all together in one place at the same time. In thirty years, I think my father's funeral was one of those rare occasions.

I had a falling out with my closest brother, H., my best bud and the one I had lived with when I had moved to the resort town he called home. But when he decided some small thing I did was going to be the end of our relationship I wasn't surprised that it was my "time" to be on his bad side. He had, at one time or another, in a fifteen year period, been on the outs with just about every member of our family (he didn't speak to my parent's for ten years!). It was hurtful, but he lived so far away and I knew in my heart that if I hadn't been there for him during his darkest hours he never would have met, fallen in love, and married the girl that was perfect for him. I knew I had fulfilled my purpose in his life and now he had someone else to take over that role.

But when you grow up you become your own person and even though they were still my family, they now had families of their own. They were still my world, but I wasn't necessarily theirs.

Sometimes, a year or so would go by without me seeing my brothers, and talking with them on the phone was almost as seldom. My sisters were different. I saw them at least once a year and talked with them a hundred times more than that.

But when my mom had her breakdown things dramatically changed. My brothers and sisters were constantly calling to talk with me about my mom's health and recovery. Being so far away they couldn't possibly understand what I was going through (especially after my mom's month in the mental ward was over and she came home to my care) but they all had opinions (which they readily expressed).

It was understandable that they should have opinions; it was their beloved mother that was under such mental duress, but they weren't the ones day in and day out, in the "trenches" trying to give her the best care, live in her insane world and try to stay sane myself. They weren't the ones taking her to doctors appointments, giving her her medications, cleaning up her "messes." They were going about their normal lives, when mine was anything but normal.

But the one person who did live nearby, my second oldest sister, K., the one person who was close at hand, who did have some inkling of the hardship I myself was enduring at that time, was the one person who I was least likely to think would stick a knife in my back. But she did and this is how she did it.

Driver's Seat

"Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return. "

~ Leonard da Vinci

I've been catching myself (more than even usual) wanting to control things; have them my way. For instance, I just finished having my period - it came on day twenty-four when normal for me, over the past few years, has been on day twenty-six . So, I'll hear myself say, "I need to have my periods not come so early. Or, this time it was pretty light, and I'll tell myself that there needs to be stronger blood flow. I could go on, but the gist is that, I know I can only control what is in my power to control, and I'm doing that, to the best of my ability.

So, every time I get these thoughts that come into my head, that this is what I need, or, this is how it should be, I've started picturing myself in the driver's seat (yay, it's some kind of cool sports car!), pulling over and parking. I unlock the door, get out, walk around the back, heading to the passenger side and the door (magically) opens and I slide in.

As I'm putting my seat belt on, I see the driver-side door open and I envision God getting in (I don't picture anything - just feel The Presence). The engine kinda gives a rev and we are off. And because it's the kind of sports car that has power behind it, I kinda just get pushed back into my seat.

It's a straight road and my driver lets the power of the car put us in some serious forward motion until, in my mind's eye I see this car actually take flight; as if it were some sort of new-age plane on the runway just getting airborne.

And the first thing I notice is, that it feels like we are traveling fast, and yet, it feels slow too.

It's deep darkness now with the light of stars showing planets and astroids, and whatever else is out there, that we are passing by. And I just have the feeling of being safe, but more importantly, happy - that I don't have to concentrate on driving; that I am now free to look around and enjoy and experience things I've never seen. I'm not sure I even feel a destination, just that the driver has set His course and I'm along for an amazing ride.

The Gall of it All (Two)

"Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does."

~ William James

So, my mother will be going in for surgery tomorrow afternoon to remove her gallbladder. It will be done laparoscopically so it is supposed to be less "invasive," but of course I'm still worried. My mom is eighty-one so I don't take any procedures she has done lightly. And being that I often feel, at this stage, like she is the sole reason for my existence, it feels even harder on me. I wish I had more going on in my life that made me feel purposeful, but I don't. I'm working on it - finding my purpose - but right now, she's it.

Update: My mom came out of her surgery looking like the poorest, sweetest thing I ever saw. She is having pain in recovery, but is on the mend. Now I've just got to fatten her up!

Dodging Bullets

"I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish humble tasks as though they were great and noble. The world is moved along not only by the mighty shoves of its heroes but also by the aggregate of the tiny pushes of each honest worker. " - Helen Keller

My mom has been sick.

About six months ago she was jaundiced (yellow skin coloring) and not feeling well. Her doctor ordered her to get lab work done. The results came back indicating to my mom's doctor that she believed she was passing a gallstone. She asked my mom if she felt any pain. My mom said, no. She then asked her if she had felt pain when she delivered her babies (my mom had seven) thinking that maybe my mom just had a high tolerance to pain. My mom look at her doctor with the withering, exasperated look she usually reserves for me, and said, "Of course I felt pain when I had my babies!" Anyway, my mom got better; the yellow coloring went away, and she was feeling good again.

Fast forward two months, and just before we were to leave on our trip the same symptoms came back; the yellow coloring and not feeling well. My mom's doctor gave us a lab requisition form and said if my mom didn't improve before we left on our trip that she would need to get the lab test done. My mom improved and we went on our trip (and unbeknownst to me my mom threw the lab requisition form away).

During our trip my mom seemed to be doing really well, but when I left her and went on my two day trip back to my old town for a visit, she had had a bad day; not feeling good, not eating. The day I got back - my birthday - she was feeling better but I told my sister that she had her jaundiced look back. I was starting to feel worried, but once again, it went away and we made it back home with out any problems.

After being home for a day or two my mom's illness returned with a vengeance and this time it didn't go away. She was nauseous and not eating, and her color was ghastly. Her doctor ordered an MRSI and lab test for the next day and got her an appointment with her gastroenterologist STAT.

We saw her gastro doctor and after looking at the results of her MRSI and lab work he said that she had a lot of sludge build-up and a gallstone blocking her bile duct and it was critical that he get her in for a procedure to remove the blockage and put a stent in to increase flow out of the duct. His big concern was that he was going to find cancer. He basically said that if one is jaundiced and in pain then it is likely something that can be fixed, but that when one is jaundiced without pain, then cancer is the big factor. My mom was jaundiced without pain. I was worried.

A day later and we were at the hospital and my mom was having her procedure done. I sat in the waiting room just hoping and praying that she was going to be okay. The doctor finally came in to talk to me about what he saw when he went in and what he had done. He removed the large amount of sludge, took out the gallstone that was blocking the duct, put the stent in and looked for cancer, which he was surprised not to find. But, he said, he wanted to do a CT scan on my mom to look at her other organs (particularly the pancreas, I think) because he still felt that cancer was the big concern.

As always, I found out once again how important is to have an advocate when someone is ill, because, as I said, the doctor had told me when he came to talk to me after my mom's procedure that he would need to do a CT scan on her and get another liver panel at the lab, but then when I called his scheduler she said that, no, the doctor didn't want the CT scan. It was very confusing to me - I know I heard what I heard, but... Anyway, a day or two later we had an appointment with my mom's GP and I mentioned to her about my confusion over whether my mom was supposed to get the CT scan or not. When our doctor read us the gastro doctors notes he had called for the CT scan (he still believed he was going to find cancer and the CT would be able to convincingly prove or disprove it). Our GP ordered the test for the next morning put a STAT on the requisition and made an appointment to see us to go over the results in the afternoon.

And all that day I just tried to be as positive-thinking as I could. When we finally met with our GP she said the doctor who viewed my mom's CT scan looked and looked and re-looked for cancer (because he too thought it likely) and he didn't find any! And my mom's lab work for cancer markers all came up negative. Oh my gosh, what a sense of relief I felt.

Her doctor did say (as well as the gastroenterologist) that my mom needed to have her gallbladder removed (apparently she has a gallstone stuck in there as well) and got her an appointment with a surgeon for Thursday to discuss taking it out. So, now I still will have to deal with another hospital procedure (and I hate her going under anesthesia so much of late) but at least it's something that hopefully will help my mom feel better and have more energy AND IT'S NOT CANCER!

I write about my mom here on this blog, even though the main part of my writing is supposed to be about my quest to find love and motherhood, but my mom is so integral to to me and my life right now. She is my everything. She's the husband I don't have, the child that I want, the mother that I need. That may seem a strange way to put things, but basically I do with her what I feel I'm best able and most fulfilled doing: running a household - cooking, cleaning, caring for, and nurturing someone whom I know needs those particular "old-fashioned" talents that I love to do and possess abundantly. I feel a sense of purpose, the same sense of purpose I know I'll have when I do have a family of my own.

Longing

"When you feel like giving up, remember why you held on for so long in the first place."

~ Unknown

I've got so much going on right now in my brain; about my life - what I want, how to get it, how to free myself from it, how to stay strong - I feel like playing my "Longing" playlist tonight. Songs like this, this, this, this, this, this and this make me feel melancholy, yet hopeful, at the same time - a dichotomy I only know as longing....

Haircut

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."

~ Dr. Seuss

Every seven or eight weeks I get my hair "done" - cut, colored, curled and styled. It's my extravagance (and my psychological counseling session) all for the the price of $100 - worth every penny!

I always make my hair appointment for Friday afternoon. I guess I schedule it on Fridays with the hope that I will get to go out for a happy hour and be able to, for once, have cocktails out with friends, with my perfectly coiffed hair.

Most times, at least over the past year and a half, whenever I've gotten my hair done I haven't felt well enough to actually go anywhere, which, after paying such a sum of money, has always bummed me out.

As you know, even though I'm not a 100% better, I am so much better than I was, that I feel hope that I had been completely lacking for such a long time.

I had my hair appointment this afternoon.

I tried to get in touch with my 30 year old niece to see if she would want to go out for Happy Hour, but she wasn't able to. Then I called my friend, J., whom I hadn't seen since our high school reunion. J.'s name had come up, randomly, in two different conversations I had this week so I felt like the Universe was telling me to check in with him. I left a voicemail message but didn't hear back.

By 5:00 p.m. my hair was cut, colored, blown out, curled, teased and looking according to my stylist like, "Eva Longoria." I was like, I'm not spending $100 (that includes a $15 tip which just explains more about how small my town is, doesn't it?) and not let my hair be "shown."

I drove down to that bar I like, the one that I feel is a good cross between upscale and "Cheers" and sat at "my" barstool down at the end. I was sitting by myself. When I'm down at the end of the bar, in the corner, I feel like I'll be fine; like I'm not sticking out like a sore thumb. But before I could even get the bartender over to order my drink a guy came up and said, "Do you mind if I squeeze a barstool in here at the end?" And I was like, no, help yourself.

I then ordered my Bombay Sapphire dirty martini and a dozen raw oysters on the half shell. I heard him order an IPA beer. As the bartender was getting our drinks I turned to him and said. "Happy Friday. My name is L., how are you doing?" From that point we had a conversation through one martini into another for me, and beer and appetizer for him - a good hour and a half. It was a much better conversation than the last time I was at this particular bar - on my blind date. I wasn't in, "this is the one" mode, but I definitely felt like he was somebody that I would like to continue to know.

I wasn't trying to jump too far ahead, but I know how hard it is to find someone in the vicinity of my age group that is single, has a good job/education, is a good conversationalist and is cute (he had dimples). At the very least I felt, if not him, then maybe he has an acquaintance who might be a good match for me - that, widen-your-network-mentality was kicking in.

I was trying to be friendly and open. I couldn't have pitched myself (in what I thought was a very un-intimidating way) any better as being open to getting to know him on a friendly basis. I guess he wasn't interested. I had finished my drink and there was nothing to do but ask for my tab. He got his at the same time.

As we paid our tabs and began to part ways, he said how nice it was to meet me and that maybe we would "run" into each other again. WTF? At first, I think, what went wrong with me here? Did I talk too much? Did I come across as uninteresting? Did I ask too many questions of him? What? But, really, I think I was just me; the me who is interesting and the me who is interested in the person I'm talking to. I was fine. My fine might not have been his "fine" but I was just fine.

I was reminded of a time, years ago, when I complained to my father that I kept having these guys I wasn't interested in, being interested in me, and how it was really bumming me out, and he said to me, "L. you're looking at it in the wrong way. You've got to realize that you are putting something positive "out there" that is attractive and if you keep putting "it" out there you will attract someone who wants you; who is the person that you want!"

I'm listening to my father right now.

My Mom's Story is My Story (Part 3)

There is no remedy for love but to love more - Henry David Thoreau

This post is the continuation of my mom's mental breakdown journey (with me along for the ride).

After a month my mom was released from the psychiatric hospital. When she was released from the hospital she wasn’t released because she was cured; she was released because they felt like they had done all that could be done for her in the time frame that her insurance company allowed for. In other words, she was still crazy.

I remember being both excited and scared when I went to get her out of there. She wasn't who she had been. I didn't know then if she ever would be again.

Note: After you read the above link I'm posting below, links, in order, as best I can, of the emails I sent to my brothers and sisters keeping them up to date on what was happening with our mother's health and healing.

Some things I may have repeated, but hopefully, if you choose to read them, you can follow along with me as I hope I helped my mom regain her life.

Letter written to my brothers and sisters (not sure exact date, but within the first month of my mom's return home).

Emails 1-9

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine