Bitez moi, Janvier

It has been noted that i seem a bit darker than usual.  There is a very good reason for that. 

i am.

Looking back, it started in November, with the likely prospect that Mom would be starting to ride the cancer coaster.  Surprisingly, we got a reprieve just before Christmas.

Getting the call from my cousin for the temporary use of my shoulder as she had to bury her husband a bit sooner than expected.  Glad i could be close by to help her.  That was just before Christmas.

My ex-father-in-law died in late December, too.  While not directly engaged with the death/funeral process, i listened as my children got their heads around the death of someone they knew and loved.  Talking about death.  Talking about life, and how to live it.

After a mini-holiday in warmer climate, i then started playing a game of “Stuck in a Fucking Airport – Extreme Sport Edition”.  First the refugee camp, then an unexpectedly pleasant evening with strangers, followed by last week’s “Snow Blow” on the east coast*. 

Then there was the round of “Dead Fucking Car” while looking at the multi-megabuck property tax bills, which are due in February.  No.  Not buying a new car.  The shit-mobile was successfully re-animated, but for how long? Will it last til summer?

But the mother-of-all-darkness?  The dead sixteen year old kid.  Time spent with his father, JB, as he grieved.  And continues to grieve and break down and cry at work and send e-mails exposing the darkest of the dark inside of his soul. 

Under no circumstances can i back away from  JB, just because i’ve had a few minor annoyances crop up.  But i am mad at myself – because i want to. 

Given the degree of pain this man is enduring, who the fuck am i to whine about a dead car?  He’s got a dead kid!  Being stuck in an airport?  Not on the same emotional Richter scale as losing your young son to suicide.

It was through an e-mail exchange with a brilliant friend that i gained some perspective – “It’s easier to forget about all the hungry homeless people when they don’t have their noses pressed up against the restaurant window.  Even when they do, it’s impossible to ignore the fly in your soup…”

So i’ll suck it up.  January can chomp my fucking shorts.  But as these things go, January wanted to get in the last word.  One more jab in my ribcage.  Another whack upside the head with a plank.

Leaving the gym on Monday (that would be the last day of January), i received a call from my niece, DQ.  Mom had gone in for a second opinion on the mass in her lung, and had another biopsy the previous week.  A skeptical surgeon didn’t believe the results of the first biopsy.  And it turns out that the skeptical surgeon was correct.

Mom will indeed be hitching a ride on the cancer coaster.  Welcome February.  Bring it…


* i was scheduled to fly to the east coast yesterday, but the mere thought of going into an airport with a storm lurking made me get all tweaky… and i cancelled the trip, and buried myself under the blankets at home yesterday to wait out the ice storm of the week.