This week has been difficult to say the least. I hate starting a post out like that, but as you all know, this blog to me is a diary of sorts. Somewhere to collect my thoughts and push them out without any reservation. It helps to calm me, to work through the challenges that come my way, and as I’ve mentioned before, if my words and thoughts on certain subjects can lend even just a bit of comfort or relief to any of you readers, then all the better. So here we go.
Monday started out just like any other day. I woke up, went to the gym to work out with my trainer, hopped in my car and headed over to sit with my mom and dad while he awaited his chemotherapy treatment. He was sitting there in his chair, and although I had been prepped by my mom that he wasn’t feeling his best – he still offered me a smile, a hug and a kiss, just like always. And that’s when everything shifted. I sat down in the chair next to him while he was getting hydration – chemo was to follow, and within seconds he clung onto his shoulder, expressing that he was in a lot of pain. His breathing began to change, his chest feeling tight, and within seconds it felt like we were all spinning, trying to cling on for some control in this sitaution. My insanely brave mother took hold of the chaos, locking eyes with my dad and letting him know that he was okay.. while I just did all I could to keep this scary transition running smooth. Grabbing all of our bags, rubbing his back, giving strangers “the look” to please, graciously, move out of the way as the nurses wheeled him to the emergency room to put him in the hands of doctors who would be able to address whatever it was that was happening. And what was happening sure looked a lot like a heart attack.
It’s funny, because so often I have people telling me that they admire my calm nature in matters that are as heavy as this – having a parent who is ill, being able to stay positive, and while I appreciate that and hope that it’s true majority of the time, it’s important to know that that is not always accurate. Much like when we read blogs and it looks like their lives are made out of glitter and rainbows. Sometimes as a reader that can make us feel a little insane, so it’s important to me that you all know that we don’t always have it all together. Sometimes I scream out the F word and it feels so incredibly good. Sometimes I just sit in total darkness and cry. Sometimes I curse strangers in my head who seem to be having the best day ever, while my dad is hoisted up in a hospital room. Sometimes when people have road rage with me (yay city driving) I immediately start crying and wonder why they don’t know the hardships that I’m dealing with in my life. How could they be so mean? Sometimes I have pitty parties and get mad at other people who don’t have to go through this. Sometimes, like the other day, I have a breakdown in Best Buy when I can’t find what I need. Certainly not related to any kind of inventory shortage, of course. And often times I’m incredibly selfish with these emotions. But I always come back to the Earth. I always think of those I know (and those I don’t know) who lost a parent too soon… too suddenly. And while what’s going on in my life is just as traumatic and important, it’s a mandatory part of my healing and grieving to remember that I am not alone. And that I, in fact, am lucky.
Because although we have built a new normal for our lives, although we hit road blocks and end up in emergency rooms, and although we find ourselves begging and pleading to our innerselves for some peace and relief for my dad.. I can open my eyes and still see him sitting in front of me. I can reach for a hug and a kiss and have it reciprocated. I can tell him stories and get his advice, and hear his jokes that are always spot on and incredibly funny. Although our lives will never be the same and will always offer some crazy life alterting tests of our patience, faith and spirits – we are choosing to cling on to the fact that we have had so much time to talk with one another.. to laugh, to hold hands, to embrace the silly moments in this journey wherever we can find them. This is what makes us so lucky, and what makes these scary moments bareable. Never easy.. never, never easy. But bareable. Because we have time.. and with time, you can often come up on a miracle.
* As of this moment, it’s still undetermined exactly what happened to my dad on Monday. He has undergone many tests and has been staying at the hospital for observation. We are hopeful with his positive EKG and blood tests and normal breathing patterns that he will be able to leave soon, and continue along this new normal (with us by his side, of course) Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who reached out to us over the past couple of days. Your thoughts and positive vibes have been felt to the very core. We’re so thankful for all of you. xo0