Restoration
I don't think I've ever gone this long without writing. It's not like me. I always have a lot to say. Lately though, I don't. I'm in a holding pattern in several ways and it's been frustrating to say the least.
When I went to see my new orthopaedic surgeon back in April, he sent me for a series of tests including an MRI and a nuclear bone scan. The MRI scan revealed a partial PCL sprain and the bone scan revealed that when I slammed my little toe on a barstool in my kitchen a couple months ago, I broke it.
He also sent me to a plastic surgeon. I wanted the surgery done in May so I could get on with my life, but that hasn't happened. Yesterday I found out why. Apparently, my file has been sitting on the plastic surgeon's desk for weeks, untouched. The woman at his office who finally figured out where my file was apologized profusely and now the process begins again.
Apparently, the surgeon thinks that the insurance company will deem my surgery "cosmetic," not "reconstructive." The fact that these words even crossed his lips is ludicrous. Anyone who knows me knows that I am much less concerned about having a pretty knee and much more concerned with having a functional knee that doesn't cause me pain. So now the phone calls to the insurance company begin and I wait. . . again.
Something tells me that I'm not at the top of his priority list. Women wanting injections of botox and boob jobs pay cash or with a credit card. Mine won't exactly be like that. I think it puts me at the bottom of the priority pile and that is annoying and maddening.
In the meantime, while unable to do karate or any impact exercises (including walking on a treadmill), I've been keeping myself busy and occupied to try to lift my mood.
I've realized that moving the two tons of delivered river rocks isn't exactly restoring my soul. The spa day that my Mom purchased for me for Christmas, that I finally used last Friday definitely helped. I've also been keeping myself busy with good friends. Although I've been in a total cooking rut, I'm trying to force myself to do things I used to like doing before all this knee business and before my Grammom passed away.
I've had good days and bad days in the month since she's died. Some days, I don't even feel like getting out of bed. It's especially hard after spending a couple hours going through her things. I haven't been visiting my Pop-Pop nearly as much as I should be, because it is so damn hard to be there, without her there.
I have friends who are worried about me. I'm definitely not myself lately, but I am working at dragging myself back. It's just a very gradual process. Packing up all my sympathy cards and my Grammom's obituary was something I got around to doing last week and it was helpful. But it's weird how certain things can set you off, when you least expect them. . . the song that was on when I was racing to the hospital on the morning she died can make me cry instantly. . . seeing a piece of her jewelry or catching the scent of her body lotion. These are things that send me reeling still. I know it's just going to take more time; and in the meantime, I'm so grateful for my very supportive and extremely patient friends.
In Need of Some Good
I used to hate reading depressing blogs. It seemed to me that some writers were just followed around by a big giant dark cloud and I didn't want to be one of them. And here I am. You might as well just start calling me "Debbie" as in "Downer."
On Christmas night of this past year, when we had to put our 13 year old cat to sleep, I kept one positive thought in my head. Clearly, if this is the way I was going to end 2009, then 2010 would surely have to be better.
Yet here I sit, on Mother's Day, the most difficult one ever, because my Grammom isn't here anymore. I never saw that coming at Christmas, despite the fact that she told us it would be her last Christmas. As a present, she gave my Mom a bunch of her favorite photographs of her parents and grand-parents. I should have seen it coming. I just refused.
And then on this past Tuesday night, Mr. BBM felt a small lump on the back of my cat "Bear." Bear has always been MY cat. He adores me. Despite the fact that I'm allergic to him, he follows me around the house much like a dog. The other night I wanted to see how far he would go and I kept moving where I was sitting to see what he would do. He followed me three separate times. There is no doubt about who his favorite person is in this house. He was truly my first baby.
Saturday, Mr. BBM took him to the vet and they aspirated the lump. The vet is fairly certain it's a sarcoma. She said words to my husband like "tenacious" and "radical surgery" and "frequently comes back." She also said that he has a level three heart murmur, an enlarged kidney and thyroid and that based on these things and that he's 14, she doesn't even know if surgery would be an option for him because she doesn't know that he would make it. He has spent his whole life with medical issues: something called mega-colon and cataracts that restrict his vision. Yet he is the most gentle and loving cat I have ever known. He calls me "Mom," literally. He is this super talkative cat with incredible personality and Mr. BBM swears he actually speaks.
I got the call while I was standing in an animal shelter with the girls, helping my sister's boyfriend pick a new cat. Big I instantly knew something was wrong and I couldn't lie to her. I told her he's getting older and that he now has even more problems than he had before. She started to cry and told me she needed to go sit down outside and that she wanted to come home right away.
Because the shelter was an hour away from home, we stopped for a quick bite to eat at a roadside ice cream place/deli. She took one bite of her sandwich, looked at me with tears in her eyes, and asked, "Why is this happening to us? First Colby, then Grammom, and now Bear."
I told her I felt the exact same way and that I just didn't know. I know this isn't happening to us. It's just happening. It's called life, but it seems like we're getting a particularly cruel slice of it during these past few months. It has been one thing after another after another.
We all spent the weekend with good friends and family and tried to distract ourselves in any way possible. With all the knee issues still lingering over me in addition to all of this, I am just completely spent. I feel like someone has tied us up like heavy bags and is just beating us over and over again. I can barely get myself through this; getting the girls through yet another death so close to the last two is going to be no small feat.
I reached out to social workers and hospice people for help with my Grammom. I've talked to my Pastor about how to get the girls through all this death and heartache. But there just doesn't seem to be anything to make the horrible hurt go away for them or for me.
For now, Bear is happy and running around like a kitten; but I know how quickly Colby went downhill and how hard it was to see him like that. I won't let Bear suffer. He's been too good of a cat, but I can't tell you how much I wish, that when it's his time, he just curls up and falls asleep for one final time. I am tired of being the person who makes decisions about whether people and pets stay or go. I can't do it one more time, not now.
I need a nice big dose of good and I need it now. We so need it now.
There is No New Normal
Since my grandmother died, I've been having trouble falling asleep and staying asleep. Our family made so many decisions during her last week and it's nearly impossible to not question things, feel guilty, and want things to be different.
The other day, Big I told me that she was having dreams about Grammom. I can't even tell you how jealous I felt of the fact that she can still see her at night. Each night, I pray that I'll have a dream about her, just so I can see her alive, hear her laugh and see her smile. I want to see her the way I knew her before her stroke and I guess I'm having a hard time because my most recent days with her are not the way I'd like to remember her.
On Monday, Lil C and I stopped over at my pop-pop's house for a visit. It felt so strange and awful without her there, knowing she wouldn't be coming back home. My Grammom was always so welcoming but my pop-pop is much more of a loner. We stood awkwardly in the kitchen while every thought in my head was that I would do just about anything to have more time with her. When I couldn't take the awkward conversation in the kitchen anymore, Lil C and I decided we would clean my Grammom's bird baths out back.
In the one bird bath, we found a robin's egg, perfect except for the fact that it was under water with no nest or parent anywhere in site.
Abandoned.
That's how it felt being there without her there too, laughing at Lil C trying to get the right pressure on the hose without blowing all the water right back out of the clean bird baths.
Everyone is expecting me to just get back to normal, but there is no normal anymore. A world without her presence is so different, so quiet, so hollow. I know she wouldn't want me feeling like this, that she would want me to move on and just remember the good times we had, but it is so hard going anywhere without her.
This weekend is going to be particularly difficult for my Mom and I've been trying desperately to come up with a way to make it even a tiny bit easier. I just don't think a way exists.
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