When It Rains…

Called mom last night to check on dad and heard about my cousin Annie. She has a tumor behind her eye and will have surgery Friday morning. The doctors think they can get it all, which is good news. The bad news being that she has already been through so much you can hardly bear to think about it. Started with breast cancer, then lymph node, then a few years later a brain tumor-inoperable, which by a miracle was “zapped” by a new technique. Now a few years later, this.

She is this tiny person who is stronger then anyone. Inside and out. Quiet and unassuming, cute as a button, friendly, cheerful with a wonderful sense of humor and common sense. She is…48 now, I think. Maybe a little older (it’s hard to keep all of us straight, I always think of us as young yet). I’ve written of her before. She’s a darling. A prayer for Annie would be much appreciated.

You know how you get when you’re on overload already and then get more horrible news? Sort of knocked into a sense, a feeling of unreality. That’s where I went last night. Today, Chels back at school after spring break and hubs at work, I simply took the day off. I woke around 8, made coffee and hit the couch-where I stayed most of the day. Reading, but no concentration, so I channel surfed and watched what caught my interest. Zipping quickly out of anything that would involve my heart. Light fare was the ticket of the day.

It was good.

When people that you love are suffering, your troubles are so minimal. Tonight I griped about the animals and it felt so good, to simply have minor things to gripe about.

Last night my anxiety was understandingly high. Fears for dad and now Ann too, worries about mom just overworking herself. Prayers still going out for Lisa’s family and the ache of that still in my heart. Perhaps I met overload and today was given a gift of no feeling at all. Well I felt cushioned, if that’s the right word. It must’ve been God. And I thank Him.

I felt this way until I talked to Brie this evening and she, near tears, told me that she was tired of Carl and had asked him to leave. Maybe I’d feel better if I thought it would last more then a minute.

Oh well, the day helped me to hear this and not freak, as before today I’ve been on the edge and it’s taken nothing to send me over.

I didn’t see my Logan today. *very sad face* She was busy, and of course, I was cocooned (sp?). I wanted to go over this evening, but she’s tired and weepy and wants to get Logan and herself to bed early. Yesterday he had on a wee checked shirt with jean shorts and I tell you the child couldn’t get any cuter if he tried. *g*

He’s so happy and Brie and/or Carl can get him to laugh-crack up, so easily…if I’m not there, Brie’ll call me so I can hear him. That’s just got to be the best sound in the world. I know pic’s are overdue-soon, I promise.

He says da-da, and hi, and garbles a few other things now. He’s not as content to simply sit-too many things catch his eye and he wants to see them, taste them-RIGHT NOW! His little legs start a goin’, hands waving, THAT, gramma, THAT! Grandma scoots for it. *w* And yes, the new pic on the front is especially with him in mind. We’ll be out there soon, too. Once the weather decides on spring and stops with the winter’s end storms.

Now, about Dad. Dad is still so very weak that moving from the bedroom to the LR tires him out. He has to use the walker, too. The pain from shingles is easing, but the pain from the cancer is in his back. The shingles worsened the cancer. Sped it up, if you will, and it’s moved more quickly through his body. He has an appt. on weds w/ his doctor to see if he’s strong enough to make the hour, hour and 1/2 trip to Duluth. Prayers for dad would be much appreciated also. He’s gone downhill so quickly, just in a couple months, it’s hard to take in. We’ll be going up again this weekend. Hard as it is to see him like that, being close is so much better. Time more precious. Last time I was up there (I don’t know if I can write this yet)…we’d been talking about Chels doing something and mom said, “Oh, you must be so proud of her, tell her we are too.” and Dad said, (As he’s laying on the couch too weak to lift his arms) “We’re proud of you too, jrea” (nickname) I said, “For Chels?” and he said, “Well, that, and for just who you are.”

Whew. I haven’t even been able to tell hubs that, could not get the words out. It brings up, inside me, such great pain that I want to howl. I’m writing this thru’ tears and trying to gain control. I will sit down and howl. But just now I feel it would overtake me. You know?

See, dad doesn’t say that a lot. Never has. Just once in great while-but I know it. Now I know he’s saying it, cuz he wants me to know for sure.

Such a small thing, a mere sentence. But what a sentence. Especially in our family. Things like that are not said often.

It’s taken about 20 minutes to write the last couple paragraphs-time to stop. It’s good though. I’ve let some of it come out here, enough to maybe talk about this great pain inside of me to hubs.

Thanks for listening, for caring and for the wonderful notes of support. I cannot even voice my thoughts right now, I’m so thankful for this place and you, so I can begin here on paper.

Love,