Imagine a combination rollercoaster + bumper cars ride. In the dark. Also, I hate cancer.

I’m tired.

And probably (huge surprise) depressed.

And sad.

And overwhelmed.

And relieved.

And pissed-off.

And probably some other stuff that I’m not ready to acknowledge and/or say out loud.

Anyway.

The past few weeks have been, ummmm, hard a fucking nightmare interrupted by a few moments of absolute joy.

Imagine an amusement park ride that is a combination of a scary/rickety wooden rollercoaster (up, up, up, (has this thing been inspected recently?) straight down! around to the right! around to the…no straight down again! and, what? now up?) and bumper cars (oh, tra la la, this is fun, OUCH where did that come from?  motherfucker…)

Now imagine that you are on this ride in total darkness.

It’s been like that.  Only worse.

And better.

It’s a mixed bag, really.  But mostly worse.

I can’t recount all of the details of the bizarre twists and turns and major life changes that have taken place recently (well, I could, but that would be a book, not a blog post) but here is where things stand right this very minute (I know from experience that this could change at any moment…)

1.  Mom is done fighting this ovarian/brain cancer with chemicals.  Two and a half years after her diagnosis, major surgery, c.diff. (horrible horrible illness),  three different types of chemotherapy,  brain surgery, gamma-knife radiation treatment and a clinical trial, Mom finally reached a point where the (mostly imaginary, it turns out) benefits of the “treatments” were greatly outweighed by the negative impact these treatments had on her quality of life. 

2.  We just wrapped our minds around the fact that ovarian cancer, in the form of abdominal tumors, would probably take my Mom’s life (VERY PREMATURELY, DAMMIT!) and then WHAM! the MRI shows us that Mom’s brain tumors are (a) increasing in number and (b) are “very angry….” and the angry ones are not accessible for treatment without destroying a lot of other brain stuff.  SO.  Now we are trying to wrap our minds around the fact that her death is probably more imminent than we had imagined and that it is more likely to be a result of the brain tumors than the ovarian/abdominal tumors.  (Note: It’s all ovarian cancer, even in the brain.)

3.  FUCK YOU, CANCER.

4.  My brother and his wife (who we adore) are EXPECTING A BABY!  (This is one of the “joy” things I mentioned above…)  Oh the happy, happy, happy!  And the sad.  But mostly the happy.  And the surprise?  WHAM!

5.  Sometimes even in the middle of depression and doom and gloom and resentment and awfulness I somehow find some “light” inside and become Ms. Positive “Carpe Diem” Woman.  I know this may come as a shock to you, it is to me also.  Anyhoo, it happened right after we got the ridiculously bad news re: the brain tumors followed by the awesome news re: the baby.  I decided that we had to celebrate being done with going to the hospital every week and feeling like slaves to the medicine and that Mom needed to not even think about packing up and moving right now — she needed to just fucking GO do the things that mean the most to her.  Go visit my sister and family in Tampa, go visit her Aunt in California, go stay at her beloved home in Puerto Morelos, Mexico and see all of her great friends there. 

So we decided she isn’t just visiting people, she is embarking on a World Domination Tour.

Mom:  “Well, “World Domination Tour” isn’t a very accurate description.”

Me:  “Who says it isn’t an accurate description?   You get to decide that.”

Mom:  “Good point!”

** also, sometimes she gets tongue-tied and says “World Demolition Tour” — which is also awesome.

And then we had a Bollywood themed World Domination Tour Kick-Off Party!

And it was amazing.  So much silly and fun and LOVE and dancing.  More joy.

[Yes, sideways pictures are the latest in blog technology….fucking WordPress…]

6.  So, Mom left for Tampa yesterday and is now enjoying the first leg of her World Domination/Demolition Tour!

7.  I’m still reeling from it all.  Even after all of the “OMG if I have to spend one more minute with my Mom I’m going to lose it!” I had a really hard time putting her on a plane and letting her go to be taken care of by someone other than me.  Heavy sigh. I’m so contradictory.   There was intense bawling in the airport and in the parking lot and back at home.  Now I’m sitting in our house wondering how I will ever get everything packed and moved by the end of the month.  Except that I know I will.

8.  And I saw my THERAPIST on Monday — for two whole hours.  It was probably the best thing I’ve ever done for myself.  And it was wonderful because my therapist is a woman I’ve worked with, on and off (mostly “off” in the last few years, obviously…), for over 10 years, so I didn’t have to recreate the entire crazy-wheel. 

9.  And she gave me information about a little retreat center in the mountains that is (a) totally isolated — no TV, no internet, (b) lovely and (c) super-inexpensive, and I called and I am going there TODAY.  I’m giving myself a silent retreat to mark the ending of one thing and the beginning of the next thing.  Yay me!

10.  Oh, after the god-awful news + the great baby news, we went to see my awesome son at college.  He is sad/happy and having a great time in college.  Here he is with his one and only sweet Bubba.  Joy.

[Don’t hate me because of my technical skills.  Just pick up your damn computer and turn it!]

Heading up the mountain now!  Big love to everyone and thanks for the comments.  You keep me sane and laughing.  Mostly laughing… 🙂

xoxo,

kim

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3 Comments

Filed under Cancer sucks., My Big Book of Me, Uncategorized

3 responses to “Imagine a combination rollercoaster + bumper cars ride. In the dark. Also, I hate cancer.

  1. Regards to your mom. You also. Hang in there.

  2. I second Jules motion and third it. Contradictory is okay, it’s human. You are hilarious in your sharing of what is a most challenging and poignant situation. I love this phrase “didn’t have to re-invent the crazy-wheel.” I know what moving in the midst of trauma can be like. I cannot physically help you but I am sending much love, light and helpful energies to all concerned from afar. Share, share, share, it’s better than keeping it in “there” – well, for me it is. Kindest Regards.
    Aurora (Janice)

  3. Sue T

    Oh, my, I love “World Domination/Demolition Tour”!!
    Thank you for, once again, hanging out with us in this very difficult time. And for posting the wonderful pictures (doesn’t sideways actually fit the situation?). And letting us know about your Mom and her pending niece or nephew.
    And congratulations on getting to a therapist you already know! And to a retreat!
    May it be both restful and rejuvenating.
    ***Hugs***

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