Tonight as I write, I am alone in my room, three hours from home, letting my iPod shuffle my songs while I let my pen paint in words what is scattered in my muddled mind. Time is passing so quickly and I feel as though I am struggling fruitlessly to keep up.
I am so grateful that I ever started writing this blog. Now, I won’t sugar coat it. I may be naive about some things. But not about this. I know what a cancer diagnosis means, what a future could possibly hold. Maybe in the beginning I didn’t know the details of treatment, but I recognized the bottom line…the medical possibilities. Wait, maybe I AM sugar coating it after all. Let me try again.
I am so grateful that I ever started writing this blog, because this story which began because cancer threatened me with the potential of sickness……of struggle……of death……, this story has become a story full of LIFE.
The story has led me through chemotherapy and now on to radiation. I am temporarily a city girl for six weeks and have already completed 13 radiation treatments. My heart breaks every time I talk to my children on the phone knowing I am so far away from them. It hurt when, to help Mallory pick out her clothes for school the next day, she had to lay the outfit we had discussed out on her bed and then had to text me a picture of it. “Where’s the lint roller Mom? Where’s the fingernail polish?” I don’t know. For now, I kind of don’t live there anymore.
Ryan is turning in to such a young man. When their visit with me ended last weekend and I gave in to the tears of having to say goodbye once again, he put his arm around me and said “Don’t worry Mom. We’ll be back in just four days!” No longer the little boy I need to comfort. Now he comforts me.
Kelley is doing his best to juggle it all. He’s playing Mr. Mom and from the way he tells it, he has the house in tip top shape and the kids on a diligent routine. He may end up with his own television show before it’s all over with. Instead of the Nanny it can be called the Manny! As well as doing MY job at home that I’ve left behind, he is also still working at his own, while worrying about me and how I am faring up here in the big city. “Remember, you’re not in Mayberry anymore,” he says. That’s a broad statement but I get it. I’m definitely adjusting. At home when we hear sirens we wonder where they’re going and if we know anyone involved in whatever it is. Here, where my first couple of days I ran to the window every time a siren sounded, it happens so frequently that now I barely notice. At home, it’s not often that very many vehicles even pass in front of my house. Here I lay in bed with lights from Walgreens shining through my window and hear cars zipping by all night long. No, I’m not in Mayberry anymore.
I am taking this six weeks though and using it as a time to regroup. Yeah, it is awful to be a mom and be away from your kids for any length of time. But on the bright side, what mom gets six weeks off from all the responsibility of running a household, a hiatus of sorts? I have laundry to do here and I wash the dishes I dirty, which consists of a coffee cup and spoon once or twice a day, an occasional bowl from my oatmeal. I keep my room picked up and there is no one behind me dragging stuff out. I’ve taken long thoughtful walks, taking in the beautiful buildings here in the neighborhood I am in, the photographer in me capturing imaginary images of my family on the balcony of one of the beautiful homes on this strip or in the arched doorways of the Cathedral Basilica I pass during my leisurely strolls. I have visited the library and hurried back to my room to write after looking at all the books with the author’s names on them, knowing that soon I will be one of them. I visit with the new friends I have made here. Already I have said goodbye to some whose stay here was brief and others whose stay was months long, its end overlapping with my arrival. Here at my home away from home, cancer has already bonded this group of strangers. Each of us with a completely different story to tell…..yet every one of them a story worth hearing.
I’ve learned to just try and go with the flow. I’ve been knocked down a couple of times. Ok, more than a couple. I’ve cried and been angry or just plain sad. But, although there is nothing wrong with feeling those feelings, the clock never stops spinning. There are experiences to be had during this part of the journey, lessons to be learned. So I’ll cry when I’m sad to leave my family and then I’ll go with the flow and see what’s next. This won’t last forever. Chemo didn’t. Radiation won’t either.
As your faith is strengthened you will find that there is no longer the need to have a sense of control, that things will flow as they will, and that you will flow with them, to your great delight and benefit. ~Emmanuel