Crappy Day

Tuesday, Mom went in for her first scan since her surgery. It was something we all were waiting for, and dreading at the same time since the outcome of the scan decided whether or not there would be any further operations to keep her around longer.

They were looking to see if any new nodes had grown in the lung they had cleaned out a few months ago. If there were new nodes, it means that they're growing rapidly and there wouldn't be any point in going into the other lung since they would just grow back by the time she recovered.

She went to her scan, and we all tried to go through the motions of our days today as we waited for her to come back from her meeting with the surgeon and phoned us the results. My morning started out pretty hectic since there was a lot of work to get done by the end of the day, and I was trying to get ahead in case there was bad news- that way I could stare blankly at my monitor without feeling guilty. I got through most of the day, but by two o'clock I was feeling jittery. I emailed my sister saying, "I feel like I have butterflies throwing up in my stomach" and she wrote back saying basically the same thing. By about two-thirty I thought I should warn my boss that I could be receiving bad news that would make me "start acting like a douche". Which was my cute way of saying, "I still have stuff to get done today, but I might wind up slowing down." I instant messaged him, and he was nice about it. He asked how I was doing, and I said I was jittery. But as I typed that I realized that I was on my second pot of coffee and had been chewing ass-loads of nicotine gum... Measurable ass-loads. So maybe I was fine.

At three o'clock Mom called on my cellphone. I answered and her voice seemed ok, almost up-beat. I said, "Hi Mom." as I got up and made my way out of the office to get some privacy out in the hall. With her happy sounding, matter of fact tone, she told me that they're not going to operate on the other lung. My Mom, she's a twisted bastard. The conversation was pretty short besides throwing in that she only had a few years. They said that they could try chemo to slow the growth, but it wouldn't make them go away. She added that she still wanted to come with me to pick up the kids from daycare at four-thirty. Something that I made fun of her for the other day. Who, when possibly confronted with really bad news, wants to do something so pithy like frolic with their grandchildren. I imagined it where the children are confused and horrified that we're going through the motions of pushing them on a swing, sliding down a tornado slide and spinning on a merry-go-round with them while sobbing uncontrollably. But anyway I agreed. She made me promise not to talk about it- to let her have a fun time with the kids. Like I said, she's a twisted bastard. I hung up and basically stood in the hallway staring at a wall.

Interestingly enough, when someone goes numb, or when I do anyway- it's not like in the movies. I stood there staring at a wall and thinking, "This is like on television. If I were in high school I would totally be clutching a textbook to my chest as I slid my back down against a locker until my butt hit the floor." Then it occured to me that someone could walk by, so I snapped out of it and got back to my desk.

I picked up mom and drove her out to our daycare. I was doing fine until I saw both Audrey and Margo freak out when they saw her walk around to the back yard where they were playing. Crying is like throwing up. When you're nauseous and you see something gross, your body just throws up whether you want to or not. Same goes for seeing a Hallmark commercial play out in front of you. But I'm not a homo, so I didn't cry. Something about blubbering in front of my daycare lady seemed un-gentlemanly.

We drove back to my place and got the kids in the house. Then as I held Margo and looked for a bottle of bubbles for audrey to play with outside, I could hear my mom talking to her as she changed her diaper. Something about hearing her talk to my kid in her sweet voice made me start cry-vomiting. Poor Margo, who I was still holding so her head was only inches away from my face, looked as horrified as I imagined. Even then, I was thinking about how this was like a Sunday night movie where I would grip Margo and demand with bear teeth, "Don't you ever leave me... You promise? PROMISE!"

I got it together and got the kids outside. But, as Audrey kept yelling for me to hurry up while I opened the foil from her bottle of bubbles, I started to break down again as I could see mom frolicking (literally frolicking) with Margo in the yard. So, I yanked the foil off and handed it to Audrey while telling mom I'd be right back. She knew what was going on and just said, "ok."

I went into the basement and did more cry-vomiting for a while. Again, as I'm doing it, I'm checking my email and straightening out the furniture that I re-arranged since I painted down there. Which looks awesome by the way. Painting the wood paneling gives it a "nantucket", old beach house feel. Makes the time I spend down there working much more relaxing.

After that I was fine. I took pictures and made cheerful small-talk. Erin came home and we all chatted and played with the kids until mom left for dinner with her friends. That's right, dinner. With her friends. Twisted.