Every morning when I wake up, I think about what I might write here, what I might say that isn't too boring, too whiney, too...something. I try to be positive in my writing, although I feel fairly certain that sentence will make you laugh. When I read the past days and weeks, I struggle to find anything positive. On the other hand, I cannot act as though everything is perfect and fun when most everything is just the opposite. I have to remember WHY I write here, and although I love each of you so much, what I make public for all the world to see isn't for you, it's for me. It's the only way I can cope, the only way that I can make any sense of things. It's important that I write it somewhere, just to let it out. The problem? I find myself censoring what I write now, because I am always afraid that the truth will run you all off. Also, my family reads what I have to say, at my encouragement, so I am ever watchful about what I say, just so I don't hurt feelings or step on toes. And therein lies the problem: Once again, I find myself with little or no outlet for my worries, my fears, my feelings. After considering writing another blog, one that no one can read other than me, I realized that that is bullshit, frankly. I have to say what's on my mind, I have to be me. So, it is what it is. I hope that none of you roll your eyes and run away, that none of you give up on me or my life as I would like to. If that happens, I am sorry. It's been fun...but I have to be real.
This past weekend has been one of the worst in my memory. Every day, I wake up with renewed hope that things will right themselves. I am doing my part, why is the rest of the world not doing theirs? I believe in the general goodness of things, that right makes might, so to speak, and yes, I know that saying is backwards, but it has always been my motto. My deal with God is and always has been that I hold up my end, He takes care of all the rest. I am feeling pretty out in left field with God at the moment, and wondering why and what the hell...
Janelle is not doing well. Perhaps my expectations have been all wrong, perhaps I am too much of a Pollyanna. I have been there for her every step of the way. I have held her and cried with her, I have listened, I have talked. Yesterday was the worst, by far. I didn't know she had that many tears left in her, and I find myself impatient. Don't go off on me about this - okay? I know in my head that this will be a long time in healing. I am aware. I do not have the ability to continue with the bad, personally. After awhile, I come to the place where I am all cried out, and I get on with things. But, I have never lost a baby, I have never had to make the decisions that she had to make less than a week ago. I also was not completely aware of the truth with a few things about all of this, and that's all I have to say about that. I know she is a smart girl with a good head on her shoulders, or at least, I expect her to be. I listened to her crying yesterday, about things that she KNOWS is not right, and I wonder if she really, really believes that, or if she is just being the dramatic daughter that I have always had. But I decided that she feels what she said she does, and that leaves me bewildered. There was no choice involved here, none. There was no hope for that baby. And yet, yesterday, she cried for hours about "what if we were wrong?". She has guilt that I don't completely understand, although let me tell you again, I'm trying. I am a vey pragmatic person, completely the voice of reason. I understand emotions, very, very well. But when I have let emotions run my life, I screwed up every time. Life has taught me to throw them aside and do the best I can do with the information I have. I'm sorry, but for me that applies here, too. And I can see that it does not apply for her. It has never applied for her, or things would not be where they are. I am exhasperated with a capital E, and I don't know how to help her. See, I'm not the mother you all think I am. I am apparently NOT capable of helping her. My life and her's are so different, and what I need here, the skills I need are not in me. Yes, she is going to counseling, although it has not been set up yet, the calls have been made, at my insistence if not hers. I am putting alot of hope in that, otherwise, I have no idea what to do. I have no idea what to do. That is hard for me to say. Everyone believes I ALWAYS know what to do. Surprise! I don't.
My son, the oldest, is losing it as well. Not his fault, I know that. But it scares me to the core of my being. I saw something Saturday night that I have never witnessed before, in anyone. A panic attack. A severe one. I didn't even know he was having trouble, I had never heard those words uttered from his lips, although I knew last week he was getting close to having one, right in my office. He has always dealt with depression, a problem that he comes by honestly, I'm afraid, all of us - my kids, myself, their father, deals with it at one time or another each year. I have spent their adult and nearly adult years trying to make them understand that when you are in trouble with it, you have to have help. OS took medication for a time, several years ago, and then realized that for him, he could control it with exercise and diet, and alot of self determination. He tends to be like me, mind over matter, yada yada yada. He hurt his back a couple of months ago however, pulled a muscle, and has not been able to do everything he needs to physically to keep the big D away. So, in what I know was a huge moment for him, he came to me and told me that he was losing it, couldn't control it, and needed help. Keep in mind this was HUGE for him, because he IS like me and admitting that he needed anything or anyone is just about the worst thing imaginable. I made an appointment for him at the dr right away, and he began taking an anti-depressant. It has not had time to be of any use yet, the medication takes awhile to work. What I witnessed Saturday night, though, while it goes along with the diagnosis of depression, it requires another kind of help. He didn't tell the dr about the panic attacks, I don't think he has ever experienced one of that magnitude before. The fear and helplessness I saw on his face just about destroyed me. I helped him through it the best I could, and it passed in about thirty minutes, but it left me feeling so helpless myself, I wanted to cry. If you all knew him, and knew how hard he tries to control this, you would undrstand my feelings. He is the best kid, he has the biggest heart, he is a good, good man. I'm serious, and I know you all think that I say that because I'm his mom. But the truth is, I would choose him for a friend any day of the week. He has integrity oozing out of him, he understands things, he is honest...all I'm trying to say is that he is really, really undeserving of of the fear I saw in him. He is my bestest buddy, that is a thing he used to tell me when he was little, but seriously, he is. I can talk to him, and he gets me. Or he tries. And once again, in all of this, I am left not knowing what the hell to do. I have no idea what to do. He is going back to the dr today, he knew as well as I that was required. But it worries me, I wan't to cry. Yes, I know that this problem can be controlled, but once again, this is just not right, that he should have to deal with this. And I worry.
I am seeing the neurosurgeon today, and I am scared to death. It is just a follow-up appointment, one that has had to be rescheduled twice, due to the circumstances all around me. I was doing so well, but the past week, I have noticed a few disturbing things that leave me paralyzed with fear. First of all, my neck is killing me. As bad as right after surgery, if not worse. I hear a crunching sound in it sometimes that was not there before, and it pops and carries on alot. That is bad enough. However, I have felt my legs grow weaker rececntly, to the point of shaking. That is not good at all. The original problem with incontinence that I had in the beginning of all of this is coming back - and that is seriously bad news. My eyes have gone back to being as bad as they were before the surgery, although they must be different too, my glasses no longer help. So there it is...the truth. I knew when I had the surgery that it would either work or it wouldn't. I have felt so lucky that it has worked, I am walking, and that is a miracle. But I see a slow progession of the myelopathy returning, and that leaves me scared to even breathe. If nothing has come undone in my neck - and that is a possiblity, although unlikely, then there is nothing that can be done for me, should I be unable to walk, see, or hold my urine again. And I am scared. I cannot go back to where I was a couple of months ago - that is no way to live. I keep telling myself that it is stress, worry, all the things that are going on around me...but I know better. Stress does not make you not feel that you have to pee, it does not take away enough strength to walk. I am still hoping it's temporary, and of course, praying. I was told that my symptoms will come and go for awhile, until my spinal cord decides how much damage it can stand. I know all of that. But my surgery was two months ago today, and the very fact that I was immediately better and now getting worse is not good.
You know what? I could go on here, I could unburden my soul with even more good news. But I am tired of writing, tired of thinking about all of it. I hope I haven't lost any of you, but I would understand. I am drowning in my own life here. I want to scream "help" - but there is no one out there to throw me a rope. I will keep treading water, and doing the best I can. I know of nothing else I can do. I am too tired to care about the spelling mistakes, forgive me. Spellcheck has apparently left us for good. Later.