Yesterday I drove 540 miles roundtrip to take my daughter back to college after her week off for Spring Break.
Today I mowed our half-acre lot and power washed the front walkway and part of the patio before finally taking a shower, eating dinner and taking a nap before calling Mom for our evening chat.
Tonight I’m looking forward to my favorite Showtime drama Homeland. This Sunday ritual includes a bowl of air-popped corn and a ginger ale.
I’m also putting carnitas in the Crockpot to take over to Mom’s house for dinner tomorrow night.
I was going to bake a cake, but decided that Pepperidge Farm’s Chocolate Fudge cakes in the freezer section of my local store looked like a much better idea. My sister and her family are in town for part of their Spring Break – a rare treat for us to see them.
It seems like lately if I’m not driving, napping, showering, eating or cleaning something, I’m watching YouTube videos on how to build raised bed planters from discarded pallets. As of tonight I’ve calculated the amount of soil and compost I’ll need, and decided chicken wire on the bottom of the planters is the best possible way to keep out the gophers.
In my borderline manic behaviors I see my desperate desire to control the uncontrollable changes that are afoot on many levels.
I can’t help but notice that my once dark brown hair has turned gray seemingly overnight. I ponder going back to coloring it, and then I drop the idea because Mom says it looks good the way it is.
My bed is a rumpled pile of half a dozen pillows, a down comforter, a top sheet that wads up at the foot of the bed no matter what I do and my favorite super-soft purple, cream and turquoise colored fleece throw from Costco. I bolster the pillows all around me prior to sleeping and tuck the fleece under my chin before taking a deep breath in and exhaling just as deeply before I pass out.
I talk to myself a lot. I’ve always done it, but I think that up until recently most of it was just chatter in my head or under my breath. Now it’s just out there, turning heads in the grocery store. Usually it’s as I’m trying to remember what to do next or what to bring with me as I’m darting out the door to the car.
I’m in the car a lot. It’s about 70 miles roundtrip from my house to Mom’s house and depending upon what’s up, I drive that loop 3 to 5 times a week. It can be tiring, but 99% of the time, I’m just grateful I can do it. I’m also grateful for Pandora radio. The 80’s stations in particular.
My head hurts from problem solving, and my heart hurts because I know I’ll never be able to solve the ones that impact those I love so deeply. I grasp to control the uncontrollable, even though I know it’s not my job.
There are so many personal lessons being thrown in my path these days, and the learning curve is very steep.
I guess the good news is that despite being weary in a way that I’ve never felt before, by the grace of God I continue to be able to do what I need to do to help others and still remain relatively sane while doing it.
Tomorrow is a big day of sorts. Mom, my sister and I will go to a check-up appointment with Dr. Savage and learn the results of Mom’s MRI. By 11am we will know if her cancer has spread and if the new chemo treatment is working.
Mom has been extremely pained as of late, but I still think that much of what she feels is frustration and fear. Living with this diagnosis constantly on her mind and walking around in a fog and getting weaker due to the chemotherapy, all take their toll. I know there are times she wonders why she is still here and why she is fighting so hard to stay.
I’m hoping tomorrow Dr. Savage can deliver that reason why.
And praying Mom can hear it.