I guess what's hardest now is just that I don't know anything.
I am home. My head is clear. Ish. The ish is the result -in my extensive medical expertise...-of the steroids. We remember them from last January, right. Charm and serenity enhancers. Patience-makers. They are pretty wretched. Oh, right, accepting ownership, they make me pretty wretched. Jim came home from tennis last night into a heated exchange over who knows what but it was obviously all his fault. That is probably not his favorite quality of mine these days. Anyway, anyway.
I am home. My head is clear. My energy is returning. My mornings are slow, but I'm participating in the get up, get out household routine. Perhaps, not my most pleasant - see steroids. I'm enjoying Ian in the morning. Slow time together is nice. He is much more physical than Miles was. He wants to push and tackle and stand on my belly. And giggle when he knocks me over. This is getting less dicey as my head heals.
Oh, my head. I asked Jim if I could comb the hair over my yarmulke-shaped bald spot. He says it'd take a hell of a combover. So, I think there is quite a show back there. I thought seven or eight staples. Jim says thirty. I haven't had the stamina to look. Handkerchiefs are doing the job in the meantime.
Now, what?
Somewhat impressively to me, my paralysis of grief is lifting. Obviously, more cancer is not good. But I'm missing some details that seem important. Was this just sitting in there the whole time? Is it new since May? Do my scans show more or just a hell of a past year? What do we do about it? And yet, my mind is mostly calm. I am operating in a very narrow space. Today is Thursday. That's all I'm doing.
So, I get up. I move around with the kids and Jim in the morning. When the house gets quiet, I check in at work. What's going on, whats coming up. You know, I like to work. Its sort of what I do.
I make some calls to figure out next steps - but no one wants to see me yet. I rest before the afternoon. Four to seven is intense in our house. By eight, I'm relaxing in the jelly lounge.
The outpouring is again just amazing. Bagels from New York. See, it is not my fault if I'm a little spoiled. It's obviously your fault. I ate this messy, juicy, mango in the kitchen sink this morning. I kindof hoped some neighbor was watching aghast! But fresh fruit baskets. And fruit skewers. And flowers. And costco provisions. And cards. And texts and rides home from school. And play dates. And delicious meals delivered. And new toys. And books.
Speaking of. I started Redeployment yesterday. I wasn't sure I'd have the emotional stamina. But I read the first chapter and it spoke to me. It's just 14 pages but I know how it feels to be walking around just wrung out with grief, rage, sorrow, despair and smiling and chatting about some little something and wondering who else exists on two planes.
That's plenty for today.
