I think the first time I told God to stop messing with me was when I cooked and ate a dinner from an oven filled top to bottom with mouse turds. I was too dazed and tired to notice. At first. (I should probably say mouse droppings here, but I think I’m going to have to ditch the being-a-lady ruse).
My parent’s house had burnt to a crisp. My father was barely hanging on to life. I had rented a small cottage to be near them. It was moving day and bleary eyed I had thrown something into the oven and ate it. Or was eating it, until it dawned on me that there were an awful lot of crispy black things on my food. Let me just state here that as a country girl, I can kill any bad ass spider known to man. But a mouse in my house? The germaphobe in me comes out like a monster left in a cage too long. So imagine my delight when I took a better look inside the oven. I’ll spare you the details.
Since that eventful night, my journey has continued with little to no downtime between life’s big challenges. I have been tested in “worst case scenarios” that you know happen to people all the time, yet feel so unfair when it is your turn. After my mother’s aneurysm, I had to make a decision to keep her on a feeding tube, or the alternative… let her go within a matter of weeks. It was not my decision alone to make, but the pain inside me feels otherwise. Together, my father, brother and I, made the decision to have her live out the rest of her life in a nursing home… slumped over in a wheelchair, unfocused eyes on a TV show that she used to love… her mind somewhere in never never land. Was that the right decision to make?*
Advances in medicine are constantly testing the boundaries God once ruled over.
I woke up every day wishing my mother would pass over from another cause, and not due to a decision I had to make. And I woke up every day questioning if my thoughts of not wanting her to live like this… made me a bad person, or a good person? I still don’t know.
I have only cried once since my diagnosis of stage 4 cancer. I have not begged God for my life to be spared.
Many wonderful family and friends offer up prayers for me. That makes me feel blessed and special that they would take time to send out a prayer. So why am I having such a hard time praying for myself?
When I feel the need to talk to God, it comes out as WTF God?
I am not angry with God, despite my overwhelming desire to throw things. A little pissed, maybe. But even with my sometimes potty mouth, I am not cursing God. I’m just befuddled.
I want someone to say to me that God doesn’t give you more than you can carry. Just so I can punch said person. That would be a nice change from throwing things, don’t you think?
Now that we are back in the city, my husband won’t let me drive the busy streets I once drove as a confident woman. Maybe it’s because I scream at every intersection? Well, I do, kinda. I have gotten so used to life in disaster mode that I’m constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. I have enough shoes in my closet, thank you. For now, I leave my driving to Uber.
Even with all that has happened, I believe that this journey will end with me praying in gratitude. If not for my life being spared, then for the joys I have had. Everyday joy comes out of me as bubbles of laughter. Some will ask me if champagne bubbles are involved, and I will answer… not necessarily.
The nurse administering my chemo made me laugh by sharing a great story about believing what you read online. I had been reading too many things, my worry evident. She said that a patient once asked her about glowing at night from the chemo. This woman had apparently read about this phenomenon online. The patient then asked her… now get this… if it would keep her husband up at night. I had to laugh, imagining her glowing at night… and she is worried about her husband? The nurse, of course, told this woman that if she is glowing, she has a lot worse things to worry about. Okay, I’ll stop agonizing over everything I read. Thanks nurse Sarah.
When laughter bubbles up in me, I know it’s an answer to a prayer I haven’t formed in my mind yet.
So thank you, God, for answering prayers I haven’t asked yet. I feel your presence… even though I’m a little pissed.
* After many months in the nursing home, my mother developed an infection that did not respond to antibiotics. Finally, after the last super antibiotic in the doctor’s toolkit was administered, she responded. Remarkably, her mind seems more aware now. She is able to string words together… some make sense, some don’t. But there is tremendous improvement.
** Just finished my second chemo treatment. It was a little less scary due to having most of the unknowns out of the way. Nausea is constant, but tolerable. Meaning, I’m not throwing up in the toilet, so that’s a good thing. Neuropathy started while still at hospital getting treatment. Fingers tingle and lock-up. But that has been getting better bit by bit.