Don't Do the Room

I’ve never waited out the latest news of a loved one in the hospital waiting room. There have been plenty of opportunities in my thirty-three years; but, I’ve always spent those nerve racking times at ‘home’ or in the office. Granted, the first couple of life and death health waits occurred before I was six, so I understand why I found myself grabbing the best Halloween loot of my life and hanging out with Grandma B.

For the other wait times of my youth, I was left behind or with someone else to entertain me as people were opened and closed at hospitals nearby. And while, I’m fairly certain I wasn’t included in the waiting for reasons of protection, I’m also fairly certain that it was to keep me from being “under foot” or “one more person to corral”. That’s the separation that bites. The I can’t deal with you and this at the same time so stay away vibe I get from members of the fam-damly.

That’s what bugs, and haunts, and influences without my knowing. That’s were mindfulness matters. That’s why I work and worry at the same time. That’s where the fight for the value of my voice begins.

So, to the “they can’t deal with you and this at the same time so stay away vibe” in my head:

Shut Up and Die!

A Calmer Me

Aahh, we’re nearly four days removed from Friday night’s melt down and I’m doing much better. Of course, news, sleep and a call from Mom on Saturday morning have all helped. So did the half an hour I spent meditating about the fact that her not calling me “wasn’t about me”. It turns out the road trip from Indiana to Boston exhausted her and she didn’t call anyone.

Squid’s doing as well as can be expected. There was some excitement yesterday but that’s resolved itself (with much help from medical professionals). Sooner or later he’ll breath on his own while sleeping and not need the respirator. Which means he’ll be able to talk. If I was one of his caretakers, I’d consider it a blessing and a curse. But then, I’ve been arguing with the boy for twenty some years now.

The emotional roller coaster of the last several days wore me down yesterday and I went to bed around nine o’clock. I slept like the dead and so avoided getting out of bed this morning until way too late. Hopefully, tomorrow will be better on that score.

1,100 Miles and Twenty-Seven Hours

1,100 miles. That’s how far it is by road from here to Mass Gen where Squid received his portion of a new liver Friday.

I’m now 1,100 miles and more than 27 hours from the phone call telling me the nine month wait looked to be over soon.

And, I’m pissed. Royally ready to throw a rod. My mother hasn’t bothered to call and tell me what she knows. Twenty-seven hours later and she hasn’t called.

The last time someone in my immediate family was in for surgery the ‘party’ was 558 miles away and they DIED.

Twenty-seven hours.

I know at this point that Squid’s still alive. In true family fashion he threw a curve ball in the mix by getting blood clots so they have him in super serious ICU tonight instead of serious ICU. I had to call Grams. Grams had my Aunt call me back when she got home from watching and waiting.

Part of me knows that watching your son be this sick has to hurt and be scary. Part of me knows that watching your son brush death fifteen years almost to the day your first husband died sucks big green rocks. But, dammit, your daughter’s 1,100 miles away and she’d like to know what’s going on. I’m alone. I’m afraid my little brother’s going to die. And I’ve blown a blood vessel in my nose.

Could you at least give me a call? Even if it’s just to tell me that we’re waiting and watching. If nothing else it’ll remind me that you remember you have a daughter too. Yeah, Squid’s fighting for his life and I’m feeling like the stuff beyond the ellipsis. Not quite the same thing, I know.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.

Maybe, I can you’ll call me at six o’clock in the morning just for fun.

Maybe I can be mean and ask you if he’s dead when you call.

Or, maybe, I suck it up and just be a grownup when you call tomorrow (though chances are slim if you wake me). It’s not like any of us need high drama at the moment.