Hitting Me Softly

Frankenmommy passed away on Thursday morning around 4:30 in the morning. Since then, it’s been a natural disaster that won’t quit. Until Saturday night, I hadn’t slept since Tuesday. I was put in charge of funeral arrangements and have had to mediate fights between my father and Blacksheep and my youngest sister and Blacksheep. 

Nothing about my mother dying feels real yet. I don’t believe it, and don’t think I will until I see her beautiful face resting in her coffin. I have dreaded many things, but this morning I shook as I gathered my toiletries to shower. Today will suck. And that is fact. 

I have to say, despite having to go through this awful experience of falling on hard concrete, my family, especially Husband and my friends, have created this giant fluffy pillow to help me land softly. I feel completely embraced in love and good thoughts and for this I am truly grateful. 

I hope that today that pillow catches my inevitable free fall into my mother’s death which currently seems like a horrid dream but is sadly my new reality. 

The Dreaded Frankenmommy Update

Many of my regular visitors know about Frankenmommy and her seven year fight with Sarcoma. 

Well, as of last week, her battle has taken a turn for the worse. The last time Husband and I saw her was at Christmas. She had slowed down dramatically. She needed to take breaks and nap frequently. She had also gotten quite thin. My mother has always been quite thin, but she was beginning to look gaunt. 

Around Christmas time, the family was told that there were no more treatments available. We’d heard about some immunotherapy treatments, so last week she went to see if she was a candidate. The doctor, who was a chemotherapy specialist of some kind, wasn’t sure so she made an appointment with another research hospital on the other side of the state. 

Since Christmas, the tumor behind her stomach has been growing. As it has grown, fluid has been pooling around her belly. Because of this liquid, she looks pregnant. The tumor doesn’t help either. It’s also quite large. The doctor across the state, drained the fluid, kept her for a couple of nights, and now she’s back at home. Under hospice care.

This past week and half has been the most awful ten days of my existence. Aside from finding out that mother isn’t well at all. I was told that there are two more chemo treatments available, one is very aggressive and other is not as aggressive, but Frankenmommy is too weak for either. My mother is skin and bones, and because she’s malnourished she has trouble communicating. She cannot lift herself, needs help walking, and because of the fluid and her tumor struggles to eat because she always feels full. In fact, she gets very sick when she overeats. Her resting heart rate is between 130 to 150 beats a minute. 

My mother is dying. 

My mother is dying.

My mother is dying.

Her mother died at the same age from a brain tumor not even one year after I was born. This cancer shit is real.

While I knew, despite all my denial, that this sarcoma would eventually win, it’s not something I’m ready to accept. I probably won’t ever be willing to accept it. As Husband and I try to make a mini-me or mini-husband, I struggle with the thought of Frankenmommy not being at my youngest sister’s college graduation, meeting her grandchildren, seeing Blacksheep overcome the darkness that is her existence, and all the other wonderful things that people over the age of 55 experience. 

I’m trying to be a rock, and I’m sucking at it so far. Yesterday, the hospice nurse told me I looked like I was having a hard time, every time I talk to husband on the phone I am in tears, and this afternoon when Frankenmommy and I were alone and I laid down next to her, I broke down and she comforted me. I felt like such an asshole. She is in excruciating pain, and I’m the jerk-face being comforted.

I know this isn’t a space where I talk much about my faith and God, but I am fairly religious. I go to mass somewhat consistently and am a proud Catholic. I know this is going to sound corny, but I really believe that the reason my mom has taken this turn so quickly is because she needed elsewhere.  Her mission (that sounds creepy, but you get what I’m saying) here has been completed, or will be soon. 

Over the past few years, my mom has repeatedly told me she misses her mother, and I guess soon she’ll be able to see her. While I’d love to be selfish and keep Frankenmommy to myself, I don’t think even I could deny my mother the joy of being with her own mother. 

So readers, if your mother is healthy or isn’t, or you’ve said something mean to her, or you haven’t called her today. Call her, hug her, and apologize. You don’t know how lucky you are to be able to do that. 

There Are Starving Children in Africa: Why I Feel Like a First World Brat

When I think about the things that bother me, I feel guilty that I’m even upset. In the grand scheme of horrible things going on all over the globe, I shouldn’t be upset about wedding details, or having to hound HR to confirm my employment. Just look back at those two issues: boo hoo wedding crisis, and wah you have a job. Seriously, it’s shameful. Yet, yesterday I was so upset I was brought to tears.

As you know, I’m getting married very soon. Well, soonish. We are getting into the 5-3 month window. It’s time for the bridal shower and bachelorette plans to begin. My bridesmaids are all family, three of them are underage and four of them don’t even live in the United States. My girlfriends are also all over the place. Luckily, my mother has agreed to host a small shower for me in my hometown with my aunts and some family friends. My maid of honor is my sister, who is 19 and a freshman at a huge state school with a good football team. All the festivities for the wedding will be during football season and she has a boyfriend who is really into sports…blah blah blah.

So, since I don’t live near my sisters and Blacksheep won’t be around to plan anything, I have asked a close girlfriend who lives near me to plan the shower and the bachelorette party. I asked her because we are basically best friends. We do everything together, and she seemed fine with it. REcently she was the bridesmaid in a girlfriend’s wedding, and she isn’t even that good of friends with her and helped organize a destination bachelorette party for the bride. I figured since we’re really close, I’d ask her. Well, there was no planning going on so I asked her if she wanted some help. She said she would help, and all of a sudden I was planning my bachelorette party and my shower.

There are a few upsides to planning everything yourself.

1. You have complete control and get to do it however you want.

2. See above upside.

The thing is, I don’t think it’s appropriate for a bride to plan these events on their own.

As FH pointed out last night, I should have expected this when I asked my 19-year-old sister to be my maid of honor. This is true. Still, why don’t any of my girlfriends want to do something like this?

I feel terrible and guilty that I want a shower and bachelorette party so badly. I mean, what’s the big freakin’ deal? Do I even need to have one? I understand why my girlfriends don’t want to plan anything for me, I really do.

1. I have no friends in my bridal party.

2. They all live far away.

3. Most of them are broke.

4. It’s a pain in the ass to plan parties like this.

5. It’s depressing to plan showers and bachelorette parties when you’re single.

Still, when I was asked to be my best friend’s maid of honor (she called of the wedding, but that is not the point), I was so excited to help her in any way.

I just feel like my friends and sisters are being so selfish. When I told my sister the date I was thinking of having the shower and bachelorette party, she freaked out.

“Seriously, why that weekend?”

When I explained that the month before the wedding was not going to work because of scheduling conflicts and holidays, she conceded. She then suggested the month of the wedding. I also felt this was not going to work because then those girlfriends who would travel to the shower, would then have to travel again for the wedding. This seems unfair.

“That weekend is a big deal in [insert college town name here],” she whined. “There’s a home game. I have tickets. It’s the worst.”

“Okay, whatever.”

“You couldn’t have possibly picked a worse weekend.”

“Awesome.”

I hung up the phone and broke down into tears. I hate to be all, “me me me,” but isn’t that the point? I’ve tried so desperately throughout this process to not be a diva. To not discuss the details of my wedding. To not bore anyone with talk of the wedding, when in fact, I’m fucking excited about it.

This is my first marriage. FH and I have been through hell back to be together. And I’m excited, God damn it. I grew up around the bridal industry, and like many girls I love weddings. Everything about them. Still, I’ve held my tongue. Not talking about it, as if it wasn’t happening.

When people ask me, “So, how are the wedding plans coming?”

My response is always, “Oh you know, nothing too exciting. Just trying not to stress.”

Well people. I’m. Stressed. And, it is exciting.

I’m also deeply disappointed in all the selfish people I have surrounded myself with, including my sisters, who don’t give a shit that their big sister is getting married. My sisters and girlfriends, who always need me, aren’t willing to commit to a weekend where we can celebrate something as lovely as a wedding and marriage.

Last night, while venting to FH I said, “I guess we should have just eloped.”

But you know what, FUCK THAT.

I have been a good girl. I’ve worked hard. I love FH more than anything, I’ve tried to be a good person and good friend who isn’t selfish.  Don’t I deserve a beautiful wedding and the festivities that precede it?

Still, even as I whine–boo hoo no one wants to plan my bridal shower or bachelorette party–I think about all those poor people in war stricken countries who can’t have beautiful weddings, and people who struggle to feed themselves and their children, and my mother who has freakin’ cancer, and all those people who are struggling with challenges far more important than a stupid bridal shower. I feel like someone should slap me and say, “Snap out of it, Barbie. There are starving children in Africa, you know.”

And even though that is true, I still can’t help feeling upset.

Last night, FH and I talked about how I try so hard to please others that I end up suffering. I know that with the wedding planning that has been the case. I am blessed with parents who want me to have the most beautiful wedding I can envision. My mother and father have said yes to almost all the vendors I’ve wanted to go with, and the colors, and the music, and the food. Both of my parents have told me that they are so proud of my accomplishments and they want to reward me with the wedding of my dreams. Still, I’ve done a lot to concede to what the family wants, and even what my sisters want. And honestly, this doesn’t really bother me. I don’t want to be a psychotic control freak. I really don’t. I let the girls pick their dresses, and even listened as one of my bridesmaid told me that no matter what dress I picked, she’d look fat. But that she’d wear whatever I chose.

I know a lot of this comes with the territory of planning a wedding, but so does a girlfriend or sister planning a shower.

Anyway, there isn’t much I can do, but it saddens me when I think about how I don’t really have any girlfriends (including my sisters) in my  life who will do this for me.

Nevertheless, the children are still starving in Africa.

Update on Frankenmommy

So my mom got back from the doctor on Monday. The surgery was canceled because they found legions on both parts of her liver and a growth inside her chest. The doctors can’t perform the surgery to remove the tumors behind her stomach because it would require cutting too much of the liver. Also, because she had been doing chemotherapy for a long time her body became resistant to it, resulting in new growths. The doctor is now suggesting that she try a new type of chemotherapy, but we will know for sure what the actual plan of action is after her appointment tomorrow.

This, of course, isn’t what we wanted to hear. It isn’t terrible news, but it isn’t great news either. Last year after her first year doing chemotherapy, the doctor gave us great news: the tumors were shrinking, and were possibly inactive (dead). This gave the family all this hope. While, hope is not lost, it is deeply disappointing that the cancer is winning this battle. The war, however, wages on.

When I spoke to my mother on the phone she was very calm and wasn’t openly upset. She is a force. My Black Sheep sister called me shortly afterwards and was not so strong. She even claimed that my father was in hysterics crying. My dad is not a cryer.

I panicked. My mother has been known to hide family dramas from me. While I was in grad school our family experienced quite a few traumatic events, and I didn’t find out about them until it was too late to offer my help, or support. I also only found out about them from my sister. This happened recently when some drama went down with Black Sheep sister. Since I now live far away from my family and have been stressed out about my own problems, my sister (the white sheep?) has informed me that my mother didn’t want to burden me with the stress of the family.

Needless to say, that is bull$?@#, but  whatever. This is the kind of person my mother is. She is way too kind, and holds everything in, hence a disease like a cancer.

So, I called my father. He immediately started crying and said, “It’s not good news. It’s very bad.” After asking what the doctor said, he repeatedly replied, “The doctor said, we need a miracle. What does that mean? We need a miracle. It means it’s not good.”

I then chided him for freaking out in front of my mother. Seriously. She should haven’t to show us that she is strong, she should be looking to us for strength, and if she needs to cry.

I called my mother back. The following is our conversation:

Me: Ma, can you tell me why everyone is freaking out?

Ma: I don’t know. Whose freaking out?

Me: Daddy and Black Sheep.

Ma: I see.

Me: They really don’t need to be freaking out. Everything is going to be fine.

Ma: I know. It’s ridiculous. It’s going to be okay.

Me: Exactly.

Ma: Ridiculous.

Me: You should know that you are obligated to come to the wedding.

Ma: I know.

Me: I’m also holding you to your commitment to meet your future grandchildren.

Ma: I see.

Me: So if you have other plans, you’re going to have to cancel them.

Ma: (laughing) Yeah, I’ll put them on hold.

Me: Exactly, because everything is going to fine.

 

So, that’s it. I’ll know more about future treatments and actions tomorrow.

Black Sheep has been looking into some more natural remedies. Apparently there are diets, and herbs, and all kinds of “home” treatments that people swear by. I think at this point there is no harm in trying them.

If you know of any treatments for Sarcoma, please feel free to link to them in the comments, on twitter (@onemeanmfa), or email them to me (onemeanmfa@gmail.com).

It’s going to be fine.

Cancer, You’ve Been Warned

An Open Letter to the Cancer Inside My Mother,

How dare you? Seriously. She’s a good person. She wasn’t promiscuous, put up with my father’s bull. She was healthy; wasn’t overweight, or smoked, didn’t do drugs. Her one vice: coffee. Who can blame her, living in this never-sleep-gotta-push society.

She is a wonderful mother. She taught my sisters and I to be ladies. To be good. She taught us about kindness. To not be catty.  My mother taught us about the wonderful relationships women can share with each other. She showed us how women should look at each other as competition but as sisters. She taught us this as girl raised only with brothers. She taught us about sisterhood, and now she teaches this to girls who are troubled. She has taught us what it meant to be a woman, how being a woman is important.

She watched as her mother, too, was ravaged by a brain tumor. Her mother was a guinea pig for the doctors twenty-seven years go. Twenty-eight years in December. My mother used to tell me about how they had cut out so many parts of my grandmother’s brain that she could not express emotion anymore. How she was blind, when I was born (her first grandchild), and would put her hands on my face to figure out what I looked like.

Maybe this is our curse. Our heavy cross to bear. Thankfully, Cancer you’ve decided to spare her brain. I do feel grateful for that. I don’t know if I am strong enough to witness that kind of pain. I’m selfish that way.

My mother is not.

While she’s been fighting you, some battles she’s won (she kicks your ass when it comes to chemo), some you’ve won–nice work taking her lungs you piece of s*#t–she’s also helped my father come back from a quadruple bypass (there’s another health issue that makes no sense on a man as healthy and fit as my dad), she’s taken my Black Sheep Sister into the house having faith that Black Sheep Sister will overcome her drug addictions, relationship with our father, and other issues. She’s been standing by me as I prepare to enter the sacrament of matrimony. My mother has helped my father grieve the deaths of both his parents, and has watched her father slip into the deep depths of Alzheimer’s. Meanwhile, she’s been to prayer groups, prays the Rosary everyday, and still works.

If you were looking for a good person who doesn’t deserve to suffer, you found her.

Throughout life, we hear phrases like, “life isn’t fair.” Really? You’re kidding? My mother is walking proof of that. What I don’t understand, is why her. What did she do to deserve this?

Maybe that’s just it. Cancer isn’t something you earn. Cancer is evil. It’s calculating and cold.

Cancer doesn’t pick its victims the way society wishes it would. How often have you heard, “Poor thing, she doesn’t deserve this.” Who does? No one deserves to suffer this way. No matter what wrongs have been committed.

I think what makes Cancer so evil is not that it randomly selects its victims. Not even that grows so quickly, taking over like a horrible weed. Showing up as spots inside someone’s lungs, eventually running through their veins, in and out of one’s arteries and veins. It’s how it inflitrates and infects families.

I’ve watched as my father cried worried about his wife not being able to sleep in her own bedroom because of renovations. I’ve watched as my sisters worry that they too will be infected by Cancer. I’ve seen the horrible pity in the eyes of my friends when telling them about my mother.  For a while, I felt horrible that you might make me miss moments like picking my wedding dress or anouncing my engagment to her. Cancer, I worried you’d take that from me. Luckily for me, she is fighting bravely.

I pray my sisters will be so lucky.

The thing that bothers me most is that while I worry and pray that my mother will defeat you (don’t worry, you prick, she will), I also worry that you are stealing moments from her. Moments she deserves. Watching my sisters graduate, seeing all three of us marry, meeting her grandchildren, and knowing her great-grand children.

I’m not writing to beg you. I’m writing to warn you. She’s been fighting for five years and if there is one thing I get from my mother it’s that when I want something, I go after it. And you bet your ass, I won’t stop until I have it.

And Cancer, I want my mother around for a long time. I strongly suggest you pack your things and leave. We’ve all had enough of you.

I’m not kidding asshole.

You’ve been warned,

One Mean MFA

The Stomach, and Pancreas, and Liver, Too

As you know, my mother is battling Sarcoma, a cancer of the soft muscle tissue. She was scheduled for surgery this week and she called to tell me that her doctor had canceled the surgery. Of course, no one explained to her why that is. She mentioned something about how the doctor wanted to perform a few more scans. She told me he was supposed to call her today to explain and schedule an appointment, but never did. My mother seemed very calm on the phone.

She joked about how the operation was going to include her spleen being removed, parts of her stomach, pancreas, and liver too. She laughed about it. Saying, “Oh, Doctors suck.”

That’s all she said. She wasn’t crying. She was laughing.

She also laughed at my grandfather’s funeral, because sad things make her laugh.

It’s quite late as I write this. I have a spinning class at 6 AM and my alarm is set to go off in about 5 hours, but I can’t sleep. All I keep thinking about the scenarios that would result in my mother’s surgery being canceled.

Possible scenarios (I’ll start with the worst and work my way to being positive).

1. There is no point in doing the surgery.

2. They need to check to see if the cancer is spreading and this will result in an even more invasive surgery.

3. The tumors are too big.

4. The tumors are all over the place.

5. The chemo was working really well, so maybe they want to go back to just doing chemo.

6. They want to scan her tumors once more to guarantee that they are not active.

It could be anything. Maybe it’s something silly like the doctor was called off to some emergency surgery and can’t squeeze my mother’s procedure in.

I do think it’s not cool that they didn’t tell her why she didn’t have to finish her pre-op stuff. I don’t know how she stays so calm. I’ve been hysterical for an hour.

After a few texts back and forth with FH, I decided to just stop worrying and write about my feelings.

I told FH that I was worried and then I wrote, “I just love her so much and don’t want her leave. I am so worried.”

It then dawned on me that I was being selfish. I need to chill the eff out and pray for my mother instead of think about how I need her.

Shame on me.

Today at mass, I spent most of my time praying that God and the Virgin protect my mother and help her heal. I even asked the priest to pray for her. Then about an hour later my mother called. God works fast and mysteriously. Apparently.

I’ll keep you all posted on the situation.

Thanksgiving, and Family, and Vacation–Oh MY!

Thanksgiving  break cannot come soon enough.  The boyfriend and I will be heading over to my parents this year, but before that we’ll be taking a small vacation that is so warranted.

Because being a college instructor is literally the greatest thing ever, I canceled classes for Monday and Tuesday (we’re having class on-line, thank you Blackboard). It will be nice be gone for the week. Sometimes heading out-of-town like I did at Halloween is just what the doctor ordered.

This week, however, promises to be mildly chaotic. I still have three classes worth of final drafts to comment and grade before tomorrow. I also need to pack, which, for whatever reason, always takes me an eternity. Yesterday, I was consumed by a cleaning bug, and even wiped down my kitchen cabinets. I’m a psycho when it comes to cleaning. I was on my hands and knees wiping down the moldings in the kitchen and bathroom. Also, tomorrow night Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 comes out and you can bet your ass I’ll be at a midnight showing.

I know that doesn’t seem like a lot to do, but the paper grading is draining.

My students don’t really need to have their papers back before tomorrow, but it will definitely make the vacation more pleasant knowing I can come back to a paper free apartment and work on some writing.

I haven’t seen my family since the summer, which is the longest I’ve ever gone without seeing my parents. Strangely enough, it’s been easier than I thought it would be. Maybe I should have gone to college out-of-state ( I was only about 2 hours away). Still, I’m looking forward to seeing my parents and sisters, even though seeing family is almost always a foreshadowing of drama and yelling. 

I’m especially eager to see how the renovations at the house have gone…I don’t know if I posted about that, but I should totally tell you all that story, since it’s simply ridiculous. Also, my mother gets her CAT Scan results back tomorrow and I’m crossing my fingers and praying like crazy that we get back some good news (please keep her in your prayers and thoughts).

Thanksgiving this year is going to be huge at the One Mean MFA’s Parents’ house (almost typed in my actual last name). The boyfriend will be with us, my youngest sister and her boyfriend’s family, some friends of my youngest sister, my aunt, uncle and surrogate grandmother and some other faces will be there. It’s going to be loud and Italian and I can’t wait. Also, my mother makes the best freakin’ stuffing on the face of the Earth.

What are you guys doing for Thanksgiving? Are you ready to get into holiday gear?

Home Sweet Home

I’m on “vacation” at my parents house. Visiting my family is never a vacation, today I spent the day helping Dad out with some yard work, and tomorrow I plan on spending the morning organizing Mom’s “sewing/junk” room, heading out to Staples to get special paper, pens, and ink for my thesis. So while there is perfect summer weather here and I could totally use a tan, I’m hard at work.

This happens often when I’m home. I feel this obligation to help get things done. Mom is still working to fight the Sarcoma and well Dad isa  pack rat who has decided to finally clean out the garage. Oh and did I mention they recently renovated the house so everything is just chaos.

C-H-A-O-S!

The thing is when I don’t help I feel terrible, though I have gotten better at sometimes just doing things for me. I do plan on having a fun night out with some of my friends on Saturday and tomorrow afternoon will be spent curled up with a book  in a swimsuit getting a wicked sweet tan!

Though I am home to visit the family, I am also home because on Monday I’ll be defending my thesis. My parents live about an hour away from where I did my masters degree and so it worked out nicely that I was able to come home for some “rest and relaxation” and finally be done with my masters stuff.

I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t function well in chaos which is why I am always helping to get my parents house in order. I also think for Mom and Dad’s sake if the house was in order I think that my parents wouldn’t feel so depressed.

Lately, I’ve noticed that my parents seem so down. They’ve been through a rough two years with their being sick, and my sister, and the renovations; they can’t seem to get out of whatever rut they are in.

I want so desperately to help them. My whole life I have watched my parents work so hard and as they get closer to retirement I am now seeing them struggle with getting their house in order, and frankly, it is so difficult to just stand back and watch. I refuse.

I’m young and can help them, it’s just that there have been times when I’ve tried to help with, for instance, organizing ,only to return and see the same disaster.

This afternoon I was sitting in the kitchen with Mom and she just looked so depressed. I can tell it’s because she can’t find any peace of mind in her house. We all work best in an orderly space.

There are a lot reasons why the house is upside down:

1. Dad thinks he can do every project himself and is, at times, cheap.

2. Mom is undergoing chemo and well, that takes it out of her.

3. Dad starts a million projects, never finishes any of them, and well right now the house has about 10 unfinished projects.

4. Dad gets overwhelmed by the projects and doesn’t know how to work efficiently.

5. They don’t have any help, besides me and I don’t live in the same state as them any more.

These are just a few reasons, but I find that as I’m getting older I find it a lot harder to come home, stay home, and not leave to return to my peaceful and neat apartment.

As I start my aggressive job search, I hope every day that I find something that makes me happy, helps alleviate the stress of paying the bills, and will be something I can do for a while. Since I’ve graduated from college, I haven’t been able to find a job–partly because I have moved and partly because of the economy and its impact on education–that I would want to wake up to and go to everyday for twenty years.

Dad has been a high school teacher for FORTY years. FORTY. 4-0. I know I could not do that but then I see how his and Mom’s life turned out, and I think I better get shit figured out real soon.

Nothing some R & R to put things into perspective.

Family + Holidays =Explosives

So like most people, I have a crazy family. I love them to death, but there are times when I want to die of embarrassment. Times when I question my biology. Tonight at dinner was one of those nights.

Some background::

I have two sisters. One of my sisters is nine years younger than me and is the funniest person on the planet. She is still in high school and on occasion her boyfriend joins us for dinner. Tonight was one of those nights.

My other sister is 21 months younger than me and we hate each other. She is the blacksheep in our family, and often all of us wonder how she ended up in our family. Her life is a chaotic mess and she is often times immature and blames other for her life and current living situation. She refuses to take responsiblity for her actions and this annoys me to no end. If you don’t like your life situation, stop bitching and DO something about.  When I’m around her for too long I feel like she has a toxic hold over me.  Her negative energy is able to suck the life  and light out of any space.

Tonight at dinner she started rambling about something completely inappropriate and even started telling racist jokes. She proceeded to tell my mother suffering from cancer that she wanted to make her pot brownies because it would help cure the cancer (I warned you, she is crazy). My mother, who is super conservative and opposed to the over use of Tylenol, opposed the idea of any kind of marijuana consumption.

My sister than went on some rant about inappropriate behavior of a doctor that she encountered. All the while my other sister’s boyfriend sat at the dinner table staring at his food. When (let’s call her blacksheep) Blacksheep started to tell racist jokes I removed myself from table.

I don’t think my sister is a racist; I believe she just wanted to repeat some joke she heard. Her disclaimer was that it wasn’t that funny. We were all unsure why she wanted to repeat it. I asked her repeatedly not to even say the joke, begging someone to help me change the subject. She said the joke, which was not funny. 

I sat there as she continued to defend herself and her friend who she heard the joke from. I then got up from the table, having heard enough. 

I went outside for brisk walk in the cold weather. It made me wonder why I drove twelve hours to come home for the holidays. I could have had a peaceful week of getting work done and relaxing. Instead, I enter this pit of chaos.

A week ago I was freaking out about moving so far away from my family, but after this evening, after the yelling, the not being able to sleep in a bed, and my sister’s erratic behavior, I’m relieved that on December 26th I get to leave.

I can’t stay here. 

What makes me sad is that my mother, who is ill, has to stay here. She deserves better. She deserves a clean comfortable house where she can rest and relax instead of constantly wonder what crazy ass thing Blacksheep is going to do or say.

It will be a Christmas miracle if I don’t tell Blacksheep off before the holiday weekend comes to an end.

Christmas miracles? They do happen, right?

Nothing Can Stop Us Now or Ever: Frankenmommy’s Fight

You know how life seems to pile up and pile up and just when you think you can’t handle any more that’s when the heaviest load seems to be added on. Well, this is something I’ve experienced often. My senior year of undergrad as the semester was working its way to ending and the organic chemistry tests were becoming increasingly more difficult to pass, my mother was diagnosed with Sarcoma. Sarcoma is a kind of cancer; it’s basically tumors that grow on muscle tissue. Mom had an 8 pound tumor on her kidney.

She had the tumor removed along with her kidney; the surgery went well. She felt great afterwards. Awesome. We now call her Frankenmommy.

Then this summer another growth popped up on her shoulder muscle. Again, she had surgery, it went well. She felt great.

Well two weeks ago on a Saturday morning, Mom called me.

MOM: I have to tell you something.

ME: Okay?

MOM: I have two growths behind my stomach and there are spots on my lungs. The doctor is not sure if the spots on the lungs are cancer, but he doesn’t like the look of it.

ME: Are you going to have to have surgery?

MOM: No, they don’t think cutting them out is working. They didn’t think the growths were connected, but now they think they are. (A long pause) I’m going to have to start chemo.

I didn’t say anything for a while. Didn’t really know what to say. How do you respond to that? How do you stay strong for your Momma? How do you push the lump that is about to explode out of your throat down? You can’t swallow the lump. I took a deep breath, a big deep breath. I could hear Mom breathing. She was getting emotional.

ME: When do you start?

MOM: Probably in about two weeks.

ME: Well, I’m sure you’re going to be fine.

MOM: Yup.

She didn’t sound confident. She was in shock. Again, it was really quiet. We were both about to cry and cry and cry, not in the good way that we have when we’re watching Step Mom together and we’re crying because it’s such a beautiful story and we love each other. We were about to cry some seriously sad tears.

MOM: So are you going to come up this weekend?

ME: I can’t I have a lot of work to do. I’ll try to come up soon, hopefully before Thanksgiving.

MOM: Okay.

ME: OKay.

MOM: I love you.

ME: I love you too.

I hung up, gently put my phone down and cried for about 2 hours. I cried a lot that weekend. I’m about to crying right now as I write this.

I drove home that weekend because I wanted to hug my mom. I did. I held her really tightly. F%@?  the school work.

A few days later when I was speaking to my mom, she sounded normal.

Happy.

Strong.

 I was venting about some of my stress and she said she was sorry about getting sick and that she felt bad that she was adding to my stress. Of course I told her it wasn’t her fault and she’d fight through it and everything would be okay. I believe this to be true.

Mom started chemo yesterday. Her spirits were up. I spoke to her before and after and she sounded good.

My family, both immediate and extended, have rallied around to support my mom. My aunt, who lives about five minutes from my parents has been going with her to all her doctor’s appointments. She is not my mom’s sister, she is mom’s sister-law. I’m telling you, we are tight family. There is non of that bullshit that goes on between in-laws. We all love each other blood related or not. We gather together and don’t let each other fall. My other aunt, my mom’s other sister in-law is flying in tomorrow and staying until Wednesday to get my mom through the first week. About ten-eleven years ago she went through chemo and has explained how the first week is one of the toughest. She’s coming in to get Mom through it.

I love my family even though they are crazy, and sometimes I’m embarrassed by how freakin’ loud they are. I see how much I have a little bit of all of them in me. I’m loud and crazy and if anyone of them needed me I’d quit my damn job if I had to help them.

Yesterday or the day before, I can’t remember. I was talking to my mom on the phone and she said something about how she felt bad that my aunt was spending her time in a depressing hospital. She said she felt like a burden.

That’s when I reminded her.

ME: Isn’t that what family is for? Aren’t we supposed to reach out and help each other? You’d do the same thing for her, and if, when I have a sister-in-law who gets sick and needs me I’ll stick with her too. That’s what we do. We help each other. You’re going into battle, we’re your army. We’re here to help you fight.

I could hear her nodding her head.

Chemo, cancer, all of it sucks but I know Mom will get through it because she has us fighting for her when she can’t. We’re going to pick her up when falls, hold her up if we have to as she fights face to face with that son of bitch Sarcoma.