My good mood carried throughout the day. I made it until 4 before I had any kind of meltdown and as far a Wishy Meltdowns, it was a small one. I drove K back to her car after work and since I was halfway to my parent's house I decided to stop by. My mom was in the hospital last week so I wanted to see how she was doing. My pop was making dinner and I decided to root through the boxes of stuff he was donating to charity. I asked how he was doing.
The problem with his neck that we have been discussing off and on since he fell in March turned out to be a tumor.
And we're back to Radiation and possibly Chemo. Except this time my mom isn't able to take care of herself at all. She can't talk, she can't feed herself or go to the bathroom alone. She can't do anything for herself. My dad is her primary caregiver. The only person she speaks her 5 words a day to. The only one of us that she recognizes. Whose name she knows.
My dad has always been the person that I have turned to for everything. For emotional, moral and monetary support. The 1st person I call when there is a bug in my apartment or my toilet is wobbly. The person I call to discuss the latest political hot topic, the latest crazy news story, the big sports story. My dad is the one person who in my separation told me "Be happy. That's all that matters and you haven't been happy for along time." He's the guy who cares about my happiness. That's amazing to me. I love my Pop. There is no one in this world that means more to me than he does. I'm scared for him. For me.
I know that sounds selfish, but I am a Daddy's girl. Maybe it's being part of a blended family or being the baby by so many years, but I never felt like I fit in with my brothers. I wanted to. I used to crave for us to be close. To laugh and joke and end conversations with "I love you". In my family we never say that. We're mean and cutting and sarcastic. We're loud. And I've always been lil Ri (until I got fat I was Bird). Ri with her tats and drugs and drunk boyfriend. Ri with her aimless life and insistence that she won't have kids. Ri who can't settle down and doesn't know what she wants to do. Ri who will always live life looking for happiness and can't find it. Why can't she just settle down. Stay married. Work her shitty job and be satisfied. This is life, it's not about happiness it's about having a plan. Why can't she just follow the fucking PLAN?! So this is pretty fucking difficult for me. I feel very lonely in the fact that this person who loves me despite what a fucking weirdo I am and who understands my desire to be happy (and understand me) is sick. This person who doesn't question, and who has been not just my parent, but someone I admire, love and whose company I genuinely enjoy, not because he's my Pop, but because he is awesome. Quick witted, sarcastic, full of dry humor, intelligent and caring and has been the best dad I could ever imagine. I wouldn't be the person I am today without my dad. And I fucking like me.
But I hate to admit that I don't trust his judgment right now. My mom is bad. His health is bad. I worry about what will happen not just if my dad dies, but what if he is sick for a long time? When my grandfather died of cancer he was sick for awhile and by sick I mean hospital bed in the living room with morphine and home care. What if my dad is that bad? Who will care for my mom? Who will care for him? Am I strong enough for this? I don't think I am. And he won't plan for the worst - he acts like we're all crazy with our worrying and nonsense. We worry because we care.
And I don't want to lose my dad. Fuck that. I'm 35. And he's only fucking 73. This is bullshit.
The boys and I have some decisions to make. Decisions that my Pop will overthrow and the pussies we are, we'll back right down.
The plus side? The things that seemed important yesterday aren't. Those little crummy bits? Are just sprinkles on the icing of life. The things that aren't happiness but they aren't tumors either, so fuck them - I'll deal with them as they come. I'm thankful that I have brothers - who at times I give a bunch of grief to, but who are fiercely loyal to me & each other and to my dad. I'm thankful I have friends both old and new that I can turn to with this. I'm thankful that I am safe and loved and supported. This is bad, don't get me wrong Internet, I know I'm looking at some scary shit. But there is good in my life too. Lots of it. And my dad would be pleased that I see it that way.
And who knows? This slow moving cancer which has spread over the last 15 years from his prostate to his spine to his ribs to his neck, may take another 15 years to get to his brain or his liver or his lungs. Maybe this it will be vanquished or at least pushed back to sufficiently with the radiation (or yuck! Chemo)that he can go back to living his life and continue to care for the woman he loves fiercely and definitely. Without either of them having to go into a home. I'm optimistic here kids. Try and be there with me.
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