As you all know, I've been doing nothing but sleeping. That trend has been going on for the entire week, including today. However, I only had a few errands to run today and figured I'd work on the shop later tonight. The best laid plans ...
After reading this post, you'll probably think this is out of place, but I have to say it. Yarny Goodness is having a 15% off sale on everything beginning Monday and running through Wednesday. Okay ...
We went over to the Harley store this afternoon to pick up my goggles (I look too cool for words - read: like a fucking dork - in them), and then decided to go visit the grands at Mom's. We got there, went into the family room, sat down, and the kids began crawling all over Hubster. They do adore their Grandpa. I was busy chatting with Mom and Grandma when my mother looked at Hubster and said, "Now, I've got something to tell you.". Uh oh. When she utters those words (and especially when she can't look at me), someone has died or gotten into an accident. I immediately began running through my remaining family members to come up with who was dead and/or in an accident when she uttered the three words that have knocked all the air out of me:
"I've got cancer."
All I could do was stare at her while she explained. She had had a partial hysterectomy a few months ago, and everything appeared to be fine. For some reason, the tests on the tissue were run three times, and the third time came up with the cancer cells. The other two were false negatives. Now she has to have surgery again from a gynecological surgeon from UCSF; he wants to remove the tubes, ovaries, and a bunch of lymph nodes. First, though, she has to have an MRI to see if the cancer has spread.
At this point, I realized that my ciggie was no longer lit because the stream of tears flowing down my face had landed on it and extinguished it. Then I realized that I was angry. I don't react well to news like this (not that anybody else does, either); one of the things that happen is that I get really, really angry. I asked her how long she had known, and when she said three weeks, I came unglued. When she said that she had told Amber (my daughter) a few weeks ago, I went right over the edge and began yelling. Hubster told me to stop screaming, but I couldn't, so I did the only thing I could do.
I yelled at him to shut the fuck up.
The rest of the visit is a blur. I'm going to take her for her MRI, and then I'll come back up for her surgery in January. I wish we could have found a house here, but it just wasn't in the cards. Besides, I think I'm going to need a place to escape to. Hubster keeps telling me that everything will work out okay and she'll be fine. I'm not so sure. In fact, I'm not even remotely optimistic right now. All I am is tired, and defeated, and everything coming up - the bike, the move, Christmas - have suddenly lost all their luster and seem absolutely pointless. For the first time in my life, I'm staring at losing my mother right in the face.
I know that a lot of the women who write the blogs I read have recently (or within the past year) lost their mothers. I cried when I read those posts and felt horrible for them and their families. But now that it might be my turn, I'm numb. I'm in a vacuum. It's like everything is underwater and I'm trying to hear what's being said. It's too surreal.
IT CAN'T BE HAPPENING.
But it is. And I literally have to think to take a breath. The tears roll without warning. We went out to dinner afterwards, and I sat at the table eating a breadstick and crying while I was talking to Hubster. He keeps saying she'll be fine, that the cancer hasn't spread, blah blah blah. I can't hear him. I can't hear anything.
I'm gong to curl up and pretend that this isn't real. Maybe, if I fall asleep, I won't have nightmares.
But I know I will.