What A Tuesday!

Tuesday what is going on? It's not quite 10AM. And I feel so out of sorts. I didn't sleep great last night. But honestly, that's nothing new. Or groundbreaking. But I woke up feeling so anxious. I was able to get myself ready on time. I basically ran to the bus stop. And then the bus never came...

I waited for almost 40 minutes. The bus I usually take, didn't show up. The second line that goes through the same area...never came. But that bus is notorious for not showing up. I checked online...and there was no bus on the way. So I was getting ready to walk to the main bus depot. And here comes a bus. By a miracle of God...I made my connecting bus. 35 minutes later than normal...but I made it.

Once I got to my normal stop, I realized I didn't put on my shorts, under my dress. About a month ago, I learned this the hard way. I'm positive I flashed everyone going into work one morning. Not on purpose. Just a sudden burst of wind. So I was being cautious on my 4 block walk. That includes going over a freeway. 

When my cousin's ex-wife popped out of nowhere. Stopped in the middle of the busy street. She wanted to give me a ride. I was less than 2 blocks from where I volunteer. So I assured her I was OK. And we were blocking traffic. She then told me to tell my Mom Hi and that she missed her. I nearly burst into tears right there. She didn't know my Mom died over a year ago. It was so weird. I just stood there. Like if someone had hit me over the head. That was a first.

In the end, I was only running about 40 minutes late. Which isn't really late. If I'm supposed to be checking in at 9:30AM. But I'm used to being early. Not rushing. Having some time to go pick up something to eat. Because I'd forgotten my breakfast at home. The Gas Station had already sold out of the yogurt I usually buy. They didn't have any bananas. So I left.

At this point, on a normal day, I'd go for a 20-30 minute walk around the neighborhood. But I didn't have time today. So I walked across the street. And towards the building where I volunteer. To almost be hit by a doctor. Whom I'm going to guess...was late to work. Because it was 8:20AM. And he was driving like a crazy man. It was me, a Porsche, an elderly lady that was slightly ahead of me with a walker, the big work truck that was trying to get through, or the curb. He ended up driving over the curb, hitting the landscaping, and yelling at all of us. I just thought...either you were going to kill that lady or me. Or crash into that Porsche. And then I'm assuming there would have been a ton of trouble. Because the owner likely would have had a heart attack...over being hit in a parking lot.

So I came straight to check in. I'd originally planned to go to Medical Records. Because I need my parents' records for my Genetic Testing. But I was already out of sorts. I actually checked in 2 minutes before my usual time. But this morning has really thrown me. 

I also forgot I was meeting someone who had ordered a stuffed toy from me. So I had to dash outside. And the parking lot is so full today! Since I got here...there was very little parking. What is happening today? I got to my customer. And back inside. To find the Gift Shop a mess. And not stocked. So I spent a good 40 minutes doing that before opening. 

Lately, I've noticed things like time...really get me flustered. Or if something throws my day off. I struggle to steer things in the right direction after that. I don't know what it is. I was prescribed some meds for anxiety. But if you know anything about me. I don't like to take medication, unless I absolutely need it. So I haven't been taking them. But I probably should have taken one this morning. I still feel jumpy. And not myself. Plus I'm so hungry!

Would You Change Your Name?

With my friend's upcoming wedding...there has been a lot of marriage talk lately. Can you believe I was voted, "Most likely to get married and have kids first"...as a high school senior? I'm more like the "Last Woman Standing."

I didn't date in high school. My parents just didn't believe in that sort of thing. I was also preoccupied with school and school activities. A couple of weeks into college...I almost got married. To a man I wasn't dating. I'd known for a few short weeks. I was attracted to him...but we didn't know each other. In all honesty, we were trying to find a way to pay for college. Because it's expensive! And who wants to take out loans? Especially since I now had a mortgage.

You read that right. I was 18 years old. Had been living alone in my 3 bedroom home for nearly 3 months. Hundreds of miles from anyone I knew. Struggling to pay for college. Which I never wanted to attend. I wanted to go to design school. Secretly I wanted to get married and have 12 babies. Live on a Ranch.

So I met a boy. Technically a man. Who was a musician like myself. We had a lot in common. And we heard about his friends who'd recently gotten married...and wait for it! College was completely paid for, for the newlyweds. Some loophole at the time, in our state.

So we devised a plan. Get a marriage license between rehearsals on Tuesday. Which meant going to the Student Health Center on Monday. Before our gig on Friday, we'd go to the Courthouse. And get married. We'd live in our separate homes. He lived about 1/2 mile down the road from me. And when we had our home interview...we'd stage it. Move some of his stuff into my home. In all honesty, all of our stuff combined, still wouldn't have filled up half of my house. Neither of us had much furniture. 

Little did we realize...we are both very traditional chicanos. 

The day came. We were in our trajes. Had one hour and an appointment, before we had to hit the road to go work. In the desert...we were having the worst rainstorm of the year. Water was gushing down the roads. And my pal...was very sweet. Had gone to a Pawn Shop. Bought 2 very simple rings. Brought some roses. Hit the, "Something new, something old, something borrowed, and something blue." Carried me into the Courthouse. So I wouldn't get wet. 

And we waited. 18 year old me. Sitting there, waiting to marry a 21 year old man. That I'd known for 2 weeks. I luckily knew his last name. But not much else. He played the guitar. Was getting a business degree. And was a fan of hats. In the end, the judge was running late. And we had a paying gig to get to. We left. Said we'd try again in a week or two. But fate intervened. 9/11 happened. The entire world changed. Eventually my friend got a scholarship through a local tribe. And your girl, spent her college years living alone, in that 3 bedroom home. With a mortgage that stressed me out, more than finals and clinicals combined!

At different times of our lives, we'd both regret leaving the Courthouse unmarried. But we both know now, that had we gotten married, it would have been for good. We would have had those 12 babies. And lived on his family's Ranch. But neither of us would have finished college. He wouldn't have chased his dreams. And accomplished so much in his career. And who would have taken care of my parents? Maybe this was the way it was meant to be. Just friends. With a funny story to share.  

Ironically, we'd try to date later. Long distance. We'd almost kill each other. My calm self, would launch a stiletto in his direction. He'd launch a 5 carat engagement ring into the Atlantic. We wouldn't speak for 5 years? And now, it's his baby brother that's getting married. Neither of us are married. Or dating. Maybe I'm just meant to be alone forever. 

But their older sister, asked me something that got me thinking...

When you get married...will you change your last name? Two things big sis...If I ever get married. Because honestly, I'm currently traveling a dead end road. And I'm pretty sure that I'll never figure out how to navigate dating or having any sort of relationship. I'm being brutally honest here. I'm 40 years old...and I can't even figure out how to make a friend. The people I talk to most every week, are the security guards were I volunteer. Oh and my trashman.

I had my head stuck in books for too long. My parents had certain expectations. Oh, and the pandemic happened...the entire world changed. I'm incredibly shy. And unsure of myself. In that aspect. So marriage? You'd need to date first. Probably on some level be friends before that. I just don't have those life skills. I wish there were arranged marriages in my culture. Maybe I'm too old? Too independent at this point. Maybe not pretty enough. 

I am very much a traditionalist. In a ton of ways. I believe women should have dreams and careers. But in the deepest part of my heart, I feel like once you get married and have kids, you should be home. Making a home. Taking care of things for your husband...the provider. Spending time with your children. Loving and nurturing your family. Probably because I didn't have that growing up.

My parents owned a business. My entire life. I was left alone a lot. A lot! Or with my grandparents or one of my aunts. I didn't have siblings or cousins near my age. So I hungout with a lot of grownups. Mostly elderly people. In a very traditional neighborhood. It's the life I always wanted. Not sure when I took such a HUGE detour...

I spent my 20s in college. Struggling. Working 100 different jobs at once. Bought a home and paid it off. My 20s were all about work. I figured my 30s would be all about having fun. I'd date then. I'd have a solid career. I'd have time. I could find love. Have those babies I always dreamed of. And create the close family that I never had. But my Dad got sick. Then my Mom. And one day, I woke up and they were both gone. I was alone. And near 40. 

So now I'm highly skeptical that I'll ever be married. I never dreamed of a big wedding. I was more like the girl that was in 150 weddings. I've donated so many bridesmaid's dresses, that the local charity shop thought I owned a business. But that has been my solid role in life. Help my friends find spouses. Plan their weddings. Be in said weddings. Then be the Godmother to at least one of their babies. My favorite part has been, all the beautiful Goddaughters. And now my one Godson. I do have friends. We just live 100s if not 1000s of miles apart. At one point of my life, I made some friends. Even if I can't figure out how to make a friend...in the city where I currently live. 

I used to joke with my Mom. That I was going to find me a Maintenance Man in the hospital. We'd get married during our lunch break. At the Courthouse. By a JP, instead of a priest. I'd wear my scrubs. And we'd go eat in the hospital cafeteria after. My Mom was devasted! None of her kids got married or had babies in her lifetime. She dreamt of the big weddings and all that stuff for me. She'd tell me, to at least let her know beforehand. So my parents could be there. I worked about 4 hours away from my parents' home. They'd need a little time to get there. 

And now? Well, I feel like I'm too old for the big wedding. Are there things I'd like...if I potentially got married? Yes! Many traditions from my culture and faith are so beautiful. But I feel like I have 5 family members who are still alive. That's what happens when you're the baby of 9. And cancer blows up your family. 

So would I change my name? Maybe. A strong maybe. In a past lifetime, I'd say yes. I'd stay home. Be the house maker. Who cooks breakfast for her husband every morning. Packs him a healthy lunch. Stays home with her babies. Is involved with all the school stuff and activities. Cleans and does all those traditional roles. Including having a hot dinner on the table, every night. At least put one of my degrees to good use. 

But then there is this incredibly independent and resilient woman, who has survived so much! I feel like I should be twice my age. I put myself through college. I bought a home. I took care of my dying parents for 12 years...completely ALONE! That lady says...you're not taking my last name. My degrees were earned with my Maiden name. And I'm keeping those roots. Not changing it. Not hyphenating anything. Just keeping it. 

I'd also like to avoid the MVD and any future eye exams at all costs! So I'm keeping it. But I know, if I met the right man. If we had children in any capacity, I'd want us all to have the same name. If he was the bread winner and all that jazz...I'd definitely do it. Without a doubt...if children were involved.

Fun fact, my parents got married very quickly. They began dating in March. They took a road trip to Mexico. In April. And got married. It wasn't legal in the US. But to the two of them, they were married. I arrived the following March. And it wasn't until I was 5 years old...that I began to ask all the questions. I was very concerned with the fact...that we had different last names. While every other kid in my school, had the same last name as their parents. Both parents. It was the 80s. 

I harassed and harassed. By the beginning of December, my parents got married. A big wedding! I believe my Auntie and I planned the entire thing. She used to watch me when I was younger. I was even in my parents' wedding. It was the best day! I can still remember being so excited. Not by the beautiful dress or the delicious cake. But the fact that we all had the same last name.

If the time comes, and I know there will be no children. If I am working in my career. If my diplomas are being used. There is a very good chance, I'll keep my name as is. Even for this very traditional woman, there are some things worth fighting for. 

And some worth sacrificing. I feel like a woman who changes her name, should be taken care of. Almost like, if your husband is taking you on as his responsibility. Financial and physically. If you intend to have children. A name change is and should be expected. 

But if I'm basically just going to live my life, like I currently do. And I'm just adding in a partner. Well then, we're partners. If I'm contributing 50% of the financials, we have no children, why should I make that HUGE change? Life is just so different now. I mean, even the thought of dating...makes me want to stay single forever. Because the men out there dating now...they got one thing on their mind. That's it. They have no sense of loyalty or commitment. Forget being responsible for their kids...much less a wife!

The fact that they expect you to drive yourself to the date. Pay for yourself. Then have sex with them. Never to be heard from again. Nah. I'm just not into that. Remember I said I'm a traditionalist. I expect a little bit of courting. Some romance. For you to at least buy me dinner. Not judge me based solely on my appearance...meanwhile you're 30 lbs overweight. Get winded walking from the door to the table. And have no cash to even leave the staff a tip. No, I'm good. I can take myself out to dinner. Meanwhile, me and my chubby legs are running 5 miles a day. Not for looks. But for health. 

So Big Sis...I'm probably going to be single, childless, and with the same name forever. I ain't mad about it. Just disappointed, that this is where I let my life trainwreck into. Alone in a hole. Trying to adopt a baby. We'll talk about that...another day. For now, this single lady is going to enjoy 3 days of wedding fun. If nothing else, let me find a good dance partner. I need a little bit of fun in this life. 💜

Trying to Find My Way Back

When I first entered the HealthCare arena...as a working professional, I was 20 years old. I lived and went to school in a community that was underserved. And depended greatly on the college students. Who at the time, worked in our local healthcare system, and held 80% of those jobs. The thing is, my college has this amazing nursing program. And the Nutrition Program is also greatly sought after. A little hidden gem if I'm being honest. 

So weeks into switching my major, I was working at my local Department of Health Office. About 2 months in, I was in the ICU of our local hospital. It was all very quick. But then again, I was a quick study. My professors and the doctors I worked under, felt like I could handle it all.

I spent a solid 10 years working. In hospitals. In clinics. Doing research studies for the Universities I attended. Eventually, I became a contractor for the Hospital System my family uses. And when I made that leap, to move home and take care of my aging parents, I slowly slipped away from work.

Maybe I was naive. I thought after my Mom's services, I'd be back to work. Maybe take the Summer off. And then jump head first. What I didn't anticipate was the mental unpreparedness. 

For the first couple of years, after I moved to take care of my Dad, I had continued to work. When and where I could. I was a contractor where he received care. So I'd fill the gaps where I could. Mostly working at the Main Hospital. On weekends, I'd drive 4 hours to return to the Children's Hospital where I worked. During the week, I'd check into our local hospital when I could. I also had a pretty flexible position within our state's Department of Health.

Eventually my Dad's health got to be so bad, that I had to stop working. His care, basically became 24/7/365. We couldn't trust him to drive. He was being hospitalized more and more often. Falls were so common, the local Fire House knew us personally. Things were just spiraling downward. And when my Mom could step in to help...it usually left me doing something for their business. So work was on hold. 

After my Dad's death, I struggled. Mostly silently. With grief. I tried to keep everything together. More so for my Mom. She needed me to be strong. I continued to go to a Support Group that we'd attended as a family. In the Cancer Center where my parents received care. I'd visit my Dad's grave daily, while my Mom was at work. She'd returned part time. 5 months after his death. But I knew I was having a tough time. I saw the hard stuff, that no one else saw. I helped my Dad, keep things from my Mom. Like when I actively knew he was dying. And so did he. But he didn't want her to know.

I gave my Mom and I a goal. One year. At one year, I'd start taking the necessary steps to move back to my home. To reclaim my life. And to get back to the career I'd abandoned. I also felt like that was a good amount of time, to attend the Support Group. Not to mention, I was having TeleMed appointments with my therapist 4 hours away.

Something was off with my Mom. I thought it was the grief of losing my Dad. She didn't go to counseling like I did. She didn't even know that I was seeing a therapist. My Mom held tight to her faith. When I brough up moving, my Mom slightly panicked. 

I thought maybe it was because she hadn't really taken care of any finances, since her and my Dad got together. And after his death, I was the one paying the bills. Making sure things stayed on track. But that wasn't it either. Maybe she didn't want to live alone. I mean, we sort of inherited a dog 2 weeks after my Dad died. And when I brought up moving...my Mom instantly fought me for the dog. The dog she didn't want, when my cousin didn't pick her up. The dog that was attached to me. Literally, attached to my side. At all times. So I'd spend 3 months looking in all the City Shelters. To be told, I needed to get a puppy. Or the two dogs would never get along. Long story short, I ended up with a puppy. So technically, neither of us would be alone.

But that wasn't it either. We'd spent that first summer, basically at my Dad's graveside. Daily my Mom wanted to visit him. We'd have lunch there. Take the dog. Sit for hours. Listen to music. Read books. Just talk. About 9 months after his death, my Mom was just not OK. I couldn't put my finger on it. We were fighting a lot. She seemed off. But I didn't know what was really bothering her. 

I let things go for a few more months. I figured we could talk again, around the anniversary of my Dad's death. I thought, I could move in June. Take a few weeks to get things in order. Then I could go work in July. But my Mom wasn't having it. 

I knew she had a long trip planned with my Aunt and Uncle. So instead of going back to work in July, I told my supervisor, I'd go back in December. Why are those the only times when they want you to enter the workforce? It's a hospital thing. So we agreed December. But my Mom got sick that Summer. And was diagnosed with cancer in September. She spent at least 6 months, in excruciating pain. At diagnosis, the Hospitalist told her she could no longer work. Or drive. Basically, if she couldn't drive...she couldn't work. So there I was. Back at square one. Not sure what I should do.

My plans to go to work were thrown out the window. Fast forward a bit. About 6 months after my Mom's diagnosis...she either started to tolerate the pain better. Or maybe it got slightly better. She slowed significantly on her pain meds. And I decided, we needed some income. So I entered the workforce. With the Department of Health (DOH). Previously, I'd worked in their Clinics. Both the basic clinic. And with Women, Infants, and Children. So I took a job with WIC. 

I didn't realize it was going to be so tough. But it was, what it was. I worked online when I could. I'd go into one of our local offices to teach classes. Once a week. But my Mom, she wasn't doing well. She was struggling with basic stuff. The pain got worse. Neither of us had decent doctors. We were still trying to get her Health Insurance.

Eventually, I stopped going in to teach. Because I couldn't leave her. My Mom couldn't pick up a gallon of milk. Or bend to pick up laundry. She couldn't open a bottle of water. So I did the online thing. For a few months. Eventually, it just wasn't working out.

I'd spend the next 4 years, taking care of my Mom. We got into selling at our local Growers' Markets. Selling our crafts. I started helping friends. Who in return would give us veggies, pies, and bread. Whatever they sold. I just tried to help. And was so grateful for the help that they gave us in return. 

At the high point of the pandemic, I started doing TeleMed appointments. Both for the DOH/WIC and the Children's Hospital where I once worked. Technically, I'm on a leave of absence. I took FMLA when my Dad got sick...and then just changed the leave when my Dad's health worsened. 

From time to time, I still help them. Especially during RSV Season. I tried to convince a good friend of mine, to take a Part-Time RD job with them. But she is happily raising her daughters. I worked remotely from May 2020-July 2021. But my Mom was needing more and more help. By July she'd had two falls. And broken her arm multiple times. She know needed help bathing. I needed to do all the household chores. 

So naively, I thought I'd start working 6 months ago. Until my therapist raised the Red Flag of doom. That she didn't believe I was ready for work. Not only the stress. But it's not like I'm going to be behind a desk. Or dealing with numbers. Or cleaning. I'm going to have people's health and lives in my hands. She just didn't feel like I was ready.

In October I applied to volunteer. In the Hospital. It's a 5 minute drive from my home. I figured I could start with one day a week. See how everything goes. But that's not where they needed me. I ended up at the Hospital nearest the Cancer Center. Not with patients. But in the Gift Shop. Huh?

It's been OK. As my OCD has gotten worse, it has been a mixed blessing for the Gift Shop. I've torn it apart. Cleaned. Organized. I've decorated for every Holiday since I've been volunteering. In January, I started volunteering twice a week. When two of the volunteers got into a fight. 

For the last few weeks, I've been here three times a week. Because the other volunteers are struggling to get along. And they've taken some time off. Again, it's not the place where I want to be. I want to be making a real difference. Not staring at the walls. For 2 hours. Then having a big surge...of selling junk food. Then being bored and stocking shelves.

I know the employees value the Gift Shop being open daily. Especially since the cafeteria isn't always open. We're now open daily. For four hours. It's a steady thing. But last week, on my third day of the week being here. I decided to take a look at the Volunteer Listings. There's rarely anything at this location...that is available. Outside of the Gift Shop. So I started to read through all the listings.

I decided that maybe something clerical woud be good. I could do that for a few months. Then maybe move to something with the patients. I found something. Agreed to all the terms. Sent my necessary documents where they needed to go. And I got it. I was quite pleased with myself. Took all of 5 minutes. 

When I got home on Thursday, I decided to read through my emails. And I found the Volunteer email. I didn't realize it was for the Cancer Center. It's a clerical position. I honestly, don't have a clue what my duties are. The listings are pretty vague. Hence, I didn't know it was in the Cancer Center when I applied. 

It starts in May. I knew it was weekly. But I wasn't sure, how long it would be for. Turns out, 5 months. It also conflicts with one of my days in the Gift Shop. I knew that when I applied. But I'm OK with letting that go. Since my goal is to ultimately get back to work. The Gift Shop is not going to help with that. 

I truly hope that I do OK in this position. I'm hoping to also take a minor position at the Main Hospital. Reading to the NICU babies. That would be weekly as well. 4 hours too. I might try to start that one, later this month. Then if everything is going OK, by July, I'd like to talk to my therapist about going back to work again. Those are my goals to reclaiming my career. Little by little. 

Happy Halloween!

Today is one of those loaded days for me. Today marks 5 months since my Mom's passing. It's also 19 years since my Auntie passed away. She was like a second mom to me. And both my Mom and Auntie loved Halloween so much. So I know...it will be a tough one...

You see, my Mom made my Halloween costumes. My entire life. When I moved out of the house. I realized for the first time, that it was not normal for someone to do this. I have the best memories of going to the fabric store with my Mom. Picking out the pattern, of the costume that I wanted. Then the fabric. We'd go a month or two before Halloween. 

Then the night before Halloween, my Mom would stay up all night. Sewing this amazing creation. Her sewing room across the hall from my bedroom. I can still hear the hum of her sewing machine. The country music she'd be playing. The steam from the iron. My Mom would make the accessories and everything. I was always some complicated princess. Or something of the sort. That required yards and yards of beautiful fabric. And about 10 accessories. I'd wake up to a beautiful costume hanging in my bedroom. Like a fairy had put it there. In reality, I had a Mom that loved me that much.

A day or 2 before Halloween we'd also spend the day baking. Making sugar cookies from scratch. Cupcakes. Decorating them with homemade frosting. And so many sprinkles. My Dad would taste test them for us. And I'd pack up bags of candy. All of this for my School Parties. 

And on Halloween, we'd make homemade pizza. Every year. And on the odd year, when that wasn't possible. We'd still buy pizza. We'd make Mummy hotdogs. Pop popcorn. Go through our neighborhood Trick-Or-Treating. Honestly, a handful of houses was enough for me. And we'd go home to watch some Halloween movies and hand out candy. 

This last month, I've struggled more than any other time. As of yet. I've found a lot of comfort and relaxation in painting. I bought a bunch of signs at the Dollar Tree. And I sit and paint in the evenings. I've given them to family, friends, neighbors, and a few to the Medical Clinics my Mom once got treatment at.

In a lot of ways, they remind me of our Halloween decorations. My Mom loved to decorate for Halloween. I'm not sure what it was. But even a simple trip to the Grocery Store...would result in a nice little Halloween decor shop. 

Then there was my Auntie. She LOVED Halloween! She took care of me when I was little. And every year on September 1st, we'd begin decorating her home. Inside. Outside. On the roof. In the front yard. All over the house. It's probably why I've always loved this holiday.

About 2 or 3 weeks ago, my littlest neighbors caught me outside. And asked me where my Halloween decorations were. Um, in the attic. And I don't climb. But I remembered seeing a small box in my Mom's closet. So I dug it out. And decorated our front porch and gates. The kids were so excited!

This weekend, I put up some decorations inside the house. Those, I knew were in the closet. It started to feel a little more festive. And I even went to dinner with a friend on Friday. I got a little dressed up. Nothing too crazy. I painted my face and wore some leopard ears and a tail. But it was a nice change of pace. 

I spent yesterday, doing the things my Mom and I would have done today. I baked cookies and cupcakes. Which I shared with my neighbors, friends, and family. I made homemade pizza. And ate popcorn while watching some of our favorite Halloween movies...and the Munsters. 

Going forward, these are the things I want to carry with me. Traditions that I want to take into the future. To honor these two amazing ladies. As hard as days like this can be, they can also be full of amazing memories. 

Tonight I'm going to help a friend handout candy. And just enjoy being in the moment. That's what I'm learning. There will always be a place in my heart, where I will miss the people I've lost. But there is also something magical about being able to carry their memories into my future. Happy Halloween! 💜

 

He Has No Idea

In every way possible, yesterday was difficult. It had been a highly emotional week. Counseling had been extra difficult this week. Twice. I lost something so meaningful and important. I'm overwhelmed with #Sadmin. 

And my hormones are peaking. The joys of trying to get your health in check. But it's made the week challenging. I completely melted down in couseling...just because I had to walk by all the signs, pictures, and posters in the office. With all the babies. That I'll probably never have. Because I spent the prime of my life...taking care of my parents. And forgetting...I'd like to be married and have kids. And now...I'm close to 40. Single and childless. In the sea of grief. Barely keeping my head above water. 

Yesterday also marked 4 months since my Mom's passing. And although I can normally keep my emotions in check...yesterday was difficult all day! I decided to go on a long walk and make a stop at the Post Office. More paperwork for the insurance company. And on my way home...I stopped to visit my Aunt and Uncle. 

I don't know how 4 months has flown by. I can't express how this last month has been the hardest yet. I wrote down a list of 10 things...that I won't let myself do. At least for a year. Because I don't want grief to be the factor that pushes these things.

I've also written a list of goals. Things I want to do for me. It's so weird to not have anyone to be responsible for. To take care of. Or to check in with. It's both freeing...and crippling.

One thing I thought I would share too...I wasn't that close to my Mom growing up. In fact, we didn't really get along. My Mom carried a lot of childhood trauma. And pain from her first marriage. I know she missed my brother and sister a lot too.

My Dad was the one I was super close to. He was my ride or die. My role model. My protector. My best friend. And my confidant. After losing him in 2015...I knew my Mom needed me. In more ways than one. I became her protector at first. And over the next 7 years...we became best friends.

Those 7 years...mean so much to me. Oh God! I'm so grateful to have gotten to know her. Not just as a Mom. But as a real person. To have spent so much time together. I will cherish those memories forever. So if you are in a rough space with a parent...there is always hope. You just need to be willing to take that chance.

After a rough start to my week...I made the decision to change things. For myself. I put together 4 baskets of goodies. To deliver to Oncology, Radiation, and Nephrology. You can read about it here. 

I also wrapped some gifts. And headed out to deliver them too. A hat that I'd found labeled with my Mom's favorite MA's name. The pin with Dr. N's name. That I found in her jewelry box. And this amazing gift...

My Mom also had bought her favorite doctor, Dr. N a NM pin. Her words..."In case he ever leaves. Something for him to remember NM." It had 2 little chili peppers on it.

She'd asked me a number of times, if he wore hats. I'm not sure how I was supposed to know the answer to that question. But something tells me, my Mom was planning on giving him my Dad's hat collection. Baseball hats from all over the world. Or his Driving Caps. She had cleaned them all. Stacked them nicely. But I just can't part with them. I've actually been wearing a handful of them lately.

But there was a very special gift. This blanket. After my Mom's last oncology appointment...she asked me to take her to Walmart. I can honestly say it had been over a year since she'd last been. But I happily took her. She wandered around the store. Looked at clothes. Bought a few things. A dress for my cousin's wedding. Some other clothing items.

We picked up some of her favorite snacks. And yarn. She stood there searching through all the yarn. Debating colors. Feeling all of them. Debating what to buy. 

"What do you think HIS favorite colors are?" 

"WHO?"

"Dr. Stan. I'm going to make him a blanket. It will be good therapy for my arm. And I just want to make him something. I want him to know he is loved and appreciated."

In some ways, I think my Mom thought of my brother, when she thought of her doctor. I know she missed my brother so much. He passed suddenly and unexpectedly in 2018. Not only did she adore her doctor. But she'd always say things like..."I hope he isn't lonely. I hope he gets to see his family." I think she worried, because I guess they talked about him being far from his homeland. 

I used to really wonder if she saw him as one of her kids. Not in a weird way. But in a protective...motherly type of way. I'm pretty sure, age wise, he'd land somewhere between my brother and I. To be honest, there is 10 years between my brother and I. So that's a healthy assumption. And were my Mom didn't have my brother any longer, she could worry in a mom type of way, about her favorite doctor.

We ate lunch/dinner that day and went home. Got here close to 7PM. I knew she was exhausted. We'd been out much longer than we'd anticipated. That week...she had an appointment every single day. And then we went to run some sort of errand afterward. Something we never did. But she wanted to cram it all in that week. Before my cousin's wedding. And another round of chemo.

That night...we came home. She pulled out her crochet hook and started this blanket. In about 5 days...with all those appointments and a wedding...my Mom finished two thirds of the blanket. 

There are 3 things I remember so clearly about that week...

1. We watched an episode of the Resident. When the mom of one of the characters dies of cancer. My Mom cried. So hard. We didn't talk about it during the show. But when it ended...she looked at me and said...

"When I go, promise me that you'll continue to live. You won't give up. Or get consumed in grief. You'll find the love of your life. And you'll have my grandbabies. Please promise me that." My Mom had 3 kids. I'm the youngest...by 10 years. 

My Mom never had any grandchildren. Since her passing. I've found 10 boxes filled with baby and kid items. She wanted to be a grandma as bad as I want to be a mom. It breaks my heart...that she never got to experience this. And now with all my health issues, I wonder if it's my fate to be single and childless.

I had no words. What could I say? I cried so hard! And from that point on...had this nagging voice. In the back of my head. Wondering if she knew her time was near...

2. Another night we were watching Grey's Anatomy. When the married couple go into surgery together. She turns to me and says..."I know someone you can spend your life with. And you 2 could save lives too." She had this twinkle in her eyes. And I could only assume who she meant. 

"Will you ever tell him what you did before you took care of me and Dad?" The honest answer is...I don't know if I'll EVER tell him. Because how do I explain where I am now? How my life is so drastically different. How I feel like such a failure today.

And would he care. Outside of my Mom's care, would our path's have ever crossed. Would we have ever spoken. Would he have ever given me the time of day? So why would he care what my career used to be? He's the nicest guy. But I doubt he thinks about me in any capacity.

3. The latest thing I remember...how passionate my Mom was about this blanket. Like she was working against the clock. I spent that Sunday sleeping. Completely exhausted from the wedding! I woke up to my Mom having finished 2 colors. And having eaten my leftover tacos from the wedding. 😆

Tuesday she ended up in the ER after her bloodwork. All day. Then we came home. She slept most of Wednesday. But still worked on this blanket that evening. By Thursday...I was concerned again. She was worried too. And asked me to take her back to the ER.

I quickly showered. Fed the dogs. Threw a few things in a bag. And went to get my Mom. Who was carefully folding up this blanket and laying it on the corner of her bed. 

"Close the door Desiree. I don't want the dogs to lay on it. If I get admitted will you bring this to me? I don't want it to get messed up in the ER."

We had no idea what lay in front of us. Tuesday we had anticipated an admission. And were sent home right before midnight. My Mom didn't want to be admitted. But told me...she knew something wasn't right. I could never have imagined how things ended. 

But on that Thursday, she was determined she'd finish HIS BLANKET. Before winter. So he'd have something to keep him warm. And we left. I never once thought...that she wouldn't return. Or that her precious blanket wouldn't be finished. It sat on that corner of her bed for 3 months.

I'd cry when I saw it. I was angry. I still am. For various reasons. I think I skipped the sad part of grief. But every single day I'd pass by this blanket. Neatly folded. On her 3rd month anniversary...I decided to look at it. 

I picked it up. And neatly tucked under it were her notes. At the top...Stanley's blanket. And I just lost it. Sat there and cried like a baby. She had notes about what colors she was using. How many rows of each. Her crochet hook tucked into the blanket. The yarn in her closet. 

With a note at the bottom. "For Christmas. I hope he likes it. I want it to be comfortable for him. And keep him warm." I sat there and cried for an hour. 

It was hard for my Mom to write. She had a broken arm that wouldn't heal. Before that last appointment with her oncologist...she sat and wrote him a card. It took her almost a week. I'd find her working hard writing. Every day...she wrote something. I have no idea what she wrote to him. But I know she had bought him a pair of socks. One that I tried to convince her...to let me keep. Because they were NASA socks. And I'm a bit of a space geek. But in the end she handed him, her card and socks on that last day.

Funny how those last two appointments...he had a lot of time to just talk. We rarely used the entire appointment time. But those last 2 visits...we all just sat there talking. For the entire time. He was so relaxed. We talked about potentially changing my Mom's treatment. She asked him about his life. It was all just comfortable and easy.

So I can only imagine how long it took her to write that note. About the blanket. With all the directions. Her little comments. Under everything...I found, "Don't forget to make him biscochitos too." She worried that he didn't eat enough. That he was too thin. I tried to remind her, he was just healthy. Didn't she remember what I was like when I worked. 95 lbs soaking wet. You have to be in shape for this kind of job.

"Desiree he seems too thin. Like you were when you worked. Do you think he is single? That no one cooks for him. Or takes care of him. He should have someone to cook for him. All men need to be taken care of." You would have thought she was his mother. 

I used to silently wonder if my Mom was throwing hints my way. If she had lived...would she have tried to be our matchmaker? I know she wanted grandkids. But I also think my Mom worried about me. If I'd ever let anyone in. To love and take care of me. In her way, I think she was trying to do that here. Take care of both of us.

It took me a while to actually get myself together enough to work on the blanket. I went through a bunch of hooks...to match her stitch size. I sat down and would start crocheting...and all I'd do is cry. So there are lots of my tears in this blanket. 3 times, I fell asleep while working on it. And would wake up feeling at peace. Something I haven't had in years! 

I contemplated keeping the blanket. It's the last thing my Mom made. I don't have anything that she's made. Probably because I also crochet...my Mom never made me anything. And how special would that be. A blanket we both worked on. 

But no. She intended it for her Doctor. And I was determine to get it to him. On the day of the Queen's funeral...I got up in the middle of the night. And started working on it. It was done in 2 days. I snapped a picture and wrapped it up.

Later I hoped he doesn't have dogs or cats. Because they probably smell my dogs. Or I hope he or no one he lives with...is allergic to dogs. I didn't think of that. 

Before I walked into the office Thursday...I cried in the truck. Because as I'm slowly ticking off the boxes on my Mom's To-Do List...it's just a reminder that more and more pieces of her are leaving me. 

I honestly halfway hoped I'd see her doctor. To see his expression when he opened the gift. But also knew it would probably be too much for me to handle. A double edged sword.

So fast forward to yesterday. I was having a tough day. On another 12 mile walk. Because that brings me so much peace. And I stopped to visit my Aunt and Uncle. Part of this last month that I haven't discussed...is how I've isolated myself from others. Its just been hard to deal with everything. 

So I go walking. Solo. With the dogs. But every single day. I don't really see my family. Because they give me anxiety. I have 2 aunties and 2 cousins that I keep in touch with. Because my therapist told me to at least keep some line of communication open. To let people know I'm alive. So there is one on each side. 

But I felt like I needed to not be home yesterday. The house just closes in on me some days. Like on her anniversary. I was sitting and chatting with my Auntie when the phone rang.

I was so surprised to see the Oncology Office number. After 5PM. On A Friday. I excused myself. And went to sit outside. 

His familiar voice filling up the air. Peace taking over me. And that oh too familiar feeling of safety...and tears. I listened to him. I could swear he was fighting the tears as well. You could hear the emotion in his voice. Dr. N just has this very calm and soothing voice. And there is something about talking with him, that brings me peace. And makes me feel instinctively...safe.

The tears silently came like a waterfall. And I tried my hardest to keep my voice steady. So many things flashing through my mind. So many questions. So many things I wanted to say. But I couldn't get them out. I'm not great with words. I'm naturally a quiet and shy person. I find it really hard to open up. To make the thoughts in my brain...flow to the words coming out of my mouth.

I don't cry a lot. I really don't. This week has been an exception to the rule. I especially don't cry in front of people. I'm not sure why. Almost like I feel like I need to be brave and strong for everyone else.

But this man puts me at ease. I feel safe talking to him. And the emotions just bubbled up yesterday. After weeks of therapy...I'm learning that some people just do this. My therapist's words..."Some people connect with our souls. We have no idea why. But they make us feel safe. Find those people. Let them help to heal you."

Much like a conversation in June...I had so much to say. But didn't know how to say it. I honestly can't tell you what I managed to say. How it came out. Just that this conversation brought me so much peace. It wasn't long. But it brought me a peace that I've been yearning for.

I'm forever grateful to this man. He quietly snuck into out lives. After countless oncologists that my Mom had seen. None that she really trusted. He was just an unexpected blessing.  

Where I 100% trusted Dr. T...he was a lot for her to handle. I'd had the history with him...because he was my Dad's oncologist. And I was my Dad's caregiver. My Mom only saw him once while my Dad was sick. The man was loud, full of energy, and was aggressive in the way he communicated. 

All the Oncologists prior to him...my Mom hated. Dr. S...my Mom just didn't like her. I'll admit she was very cold. And barely spoke to us. All the doctors at the other Cancer Center had been horrible too. We'd seen 9 doctors in 9 months. You were just a number in their little Cancer Machine.

But Dr. N. He made some sort of impression on my Mom. He brought comfort to my life. Suddenly I didn't have to worry about everything. We had a doctor that was taking care of the bits he was supposed to. And my Mom was comfortable around him. She trusted him. And really was happy to let him lead her care. 

That first meeting between them...I had to stay in the car. Because of #COVID19. My Mom came out of that appointment practically walking on clouds. "Wait until you meet him! He's wonderful. I trust him with my entire life. Desiree I have a good feeling about this."

I can still see her smiling face. She was so excited! I was impressed that they called me on the phone. And I still got to be part of the appointment. We'd never had a doctor do that before. Or someone that knew our names the minute they saw us. I was completely shocked. In the best of ways.

He again shocked me when my Mom was admitted to the hospital last summer. And on our first full day there...he came walking through the door.  All smiles. And before you ask...yes we were all masked up. But some people's smiles reach their eyes. Their entire face just lights up. He's one of them.

I'll never forget his bedside manner. How he always talked to my Mom. Got down on her level. Even if it meant he knelt on the ground. Looked her straight in the eyes. Made her a part of the conversation. Made sure she understood everything he was explaining to her. To me...that shows his character. 

I was a caregiver for 12 years. I worked in the medical field prior to that...for 10 years. Trust me when I say...this is unusual. He made both of us feel at ease. We could ask any question, at anytime. 

Frequently when we went to appointments I'd sit in the chairs behind him. While my Mom sat next to him. So I could read the computer. Back to...do I think he knew what I did before? Maybe. It was a purposeful decision for me. So I could read the reports as he pulled them up. I'd also very consciously edit how I talked to him. Don't let too much medical garb...fall out your mouth. 

What I will tell you is. I'm grateful to this man. He put my Mom at ease. She enjoyed her visits with him. Didn't second guess tests or treatments that he recommended. She was 100% at ease with her doctor.

For me...I was confident that my Mom was getting the best possible care. He may have been new to the Office. But I was so comfortable with him being the person...that took care of my Mom. I trusted everything he recommended. Much like nephrology...I never had to second guess him.

Along the way, I started to feel motivated to go back to work. To pursue more education. Something about THIS doctor...lit a flame under me. When my Dad passed away...I started to get curious about oncology. What would it take to pursue this career? I once had a talk with Dr. T about this...

But when Dr. N came into our lives...he really got me interested in THIS field again. In working. In making a difference in other people's lives. There is just something about the way he cares for his patients. 

On this side of things...I've really become interested. I reached out to my almamater. Received the packet of information. Talked with my old supervisor. Who was so excited! And encouraged me to go for it. He said I have a solid skill set...to build on. Explained that my time working in the ICU and my personal experience with cancer...had the potential to make me really good at this field. 

In some ways, I'd like to reach out to Dr. N...to just pick his brain a bit. About the field. The educational process. What it's really like. But then I'm like...these guys have enough on their plates. They're always busy. But that gut feeling...is pushing me towards the field. 

When I talked with my old supervisor, he recommended I speak with the Cancer Center's director. Ask about potentially shadowing one of the physicians. For a week or so. Both in the office and in the hospital. See what they really do. If I am ready for this. If it's something I want to do. To see if this is a good fit for me. But I'm nervous about talking to anyone from the office. It's something that I really want. So I need to be brave enough, to reach out to one of the doctors.

The way I see it. I have no responsibilities right now. I mean after I settle the Estate...my life is completely open. I have a blank page to fill up. I'm not married. I have no kids. No real pull to take me back to my previous career. Why not start fresh? Why not take 12 years of heartache and pain...and turn them into something positive?

There are a few things keeping me on the fence. I promised myself to not do 10 big things in this first year. Because I'm positive they'd be motivated by grief...and not by logic. There's the money. God why is school so expensive? I wouldn't mind the move back to Texas. But the money for school. And honestly my age. Is 40 too old to start a new career path? That would require years of education...

These are probably my biggest fears. And the real reason I'd like to talk with an oncologist. Maybe if I was braver...I'd call the office. Offer to buy Dr. N lunch or dinner. And then spend an hour or 2...asking all the questions that are floating around my brain. Until then...Mom, Dad, and God...please keep guiding me.

Also God...Thank You for Dr. N. I'm positive that I would have lost my mind without him. I know he gave my Mom the best care. We always knew her time with Cancer was limited. But you sent us on angel on Earth. For that alone, I will get on my knees every single night. To Thank You God. You knew who we needed. And exactly at the right time. Please keep him safe and healthy...so he can help many more families. 💜

Thank You!

It's not been the best week. Monday I had a big mix up with the pharmacy. I had a very emotional appointment at the OB/GYN. Why is the entire place covered in posters of babies? The hallways. The exam rooms. The checkout desks.

For someone like me...who's always wanted kids. It's hard. Just to go there. I was there for a shot and a checkup. To see if all the hormones are helping get my body back into a cycle. And I cried. Meltdown type of crying. I held it together in the waiting room. In fact, I gave one mom some breastfeeding tips. My years of working at WIC sometimes come in handy. 

But going into the exam room. It all just came out. And I cried so hard. The poor nurse. She was new to me. Because my midwife retired. And I'm now being floated between anyone who can see me. 

I'm also at a hormone peak. So I'm sure that doesn't help. Apparently my peak ovulation day was Tuesday. And my new midwife tells me, "Go home and get busy. You're not too old to be a momma." The tears silently soaked the inside of my mask. 

I almost wanted to ask...you got any single guys around here? Good ones. Not the creeps that keep sending me DMs on Instagram. Or the ones who scream cat calls at me when I'm running. Or the lazy ones who are looking for a Sugar Momma. But a good man. To not just make babies with. But to share my life with.

I kept my mouth shut. Let her do her exam. And ultrasound. Had my shot and left. The pharmacy messed up my Flu Shot appointment. And I had the world's toughest counseling session yet. I basically spent 2 hours in the fetal position crying. Childhood trauma is tough. Especially since I've never talked about these things before. To anyone. 

I was determined to make Tuesday better. Left my house early...but somehow still had to run 2 miles to Walgreens. Because I was somehow late to my appointment. Afterward I decided to take a stroll around our Old Town. And was devastated when the chain to my Mom's necklace broke. And I lost her cross. 

I spent hours retracing my steps. Crawling on my hands and knees. Going through the grass. Asking tourists if they'd seen it. Talking to shop keepers. Eventually sitting in the grass and crying. And I'm not even a crier. But this means so much to me. It was a symbol of her faith. How much she loved and trusted God. I still can't believe what happened...

Eventually I grabbed something to eat. Called my cousin and my Auntie. Because I needed to make sure they could help me next week. I'm having a colonoscopy and endoscope. And need to arrange my rides. Then...I talked to GI for a bit. 

Yesterday I walked back. Spent more hours searching. Praying. Talking to more strangers. Writing little MIA posters out. And taping them around. Surprisingly enough...many strangers helped me. I'm so very thankful. 

I even met a man who is a Metal Detector enthusiast. He was teaching me all about it. We searched for hours. With no luck. So I returned home after a trip to the grocery store.

Over 3 miles from the grocery store to my home.  Carrying pounds of fruit home. I was so tired. Emotionally spent. But I decided to work on one of my Mom's last requests. Thank You baskets for her Medical Team. 

I should have gotten better pictures. But I spent the entire night baking cookies. Then had an early Counseling session today. Another appointment. And a job interview. So I snapped this in the back of my Auntie's truck. Right before I started delivering them.

You know what? It made me feel so good! I showed up to Radiation first. I purposely went around lunchtime. Thinking...the offices will be much quieter. Less chance of running into someone I might know. Is that weird? I just didn't want to lose it...in a full office. Especially coming from a job interview. More on that later.

The receptionist was so grateful. My Mom never needed radiation. But I spent so much time there with my Dad. We did use other services in that office. Mostly the Dietitian. So I wrote a little card. And dropped off the basket. Happily accepted a hug. And went on my way.

I went next door. I mean I probably looked hilarious! Pencil skirt and stilettos. Carrying a gift bag bigger than myself. A smaller bag. 2 large buckets of snacks. And a gallon sized bag full of pills. This is my 3rd drop off of meds. How did we accumulate so many?

I didn't see anyone that I knew. Not the guy who usually greets us at the door. And checks our temperature. Not nurse Jackie. Or my Mom's MA Orly. I didn't run into her Oncologist. Or even see Melissa the clerk. 

I managed to get into an elevator. Prayed I wouldn't drop anything, fall down, or see anyone I know. Emotionally I wasn't sure I could handle it. I snuck by check in desks and made it to the checkout desks.

Only one person was working. I had never seen her before. So I had a seat. Covered in things. While the clerk helped setup appointments for a patient. And I kept thinking to myself...I'd like to work here one day. To be helpful to people. To be in this environment...were you make such a difference.

I was also silently praying...that my Mom's MA or Oncologist wouldn't wonder through the door. Maybe coming back from lunch. Or between patients. Because I knew I would burst into tears. And I wasn't sure that was the best for any of us.

After 30 minutes. Nearly having a heart attack because another oncologist, Dr. R walked 2 of his patients out during that time. And looking up how long the average oncologist goes to school for...Angela came to chat with me. 

She Thanked me a million times. Hugged me. Asked about my parents. Which got the tears rolling. Who am I? I've never cried this much in my entire life! But she listened to my story. And I just kept thinking...oh God help me get through this. Help me not completely lose it here.

Eventually I asked her about some other items I was needing to dispose of. A box of sharps. Liquid meds. A few narcotics. She disappeared into the back again. My anxiety started to get out of control. All of this is so new to me. But I tried to stay calm.

Eventually she came back with some answers. And a nurse. And more hugs. I was so happy to make a positive impact on them. Give them a little bit...of what this office gave my parents and I for 9 years.

I'm only sad about one thing. I came home this evening. Tried a cookie that I baked. And was not happy with them. At midnight they were soft and gooey. The chocolate chip cookies were so chewy. At 5PM...they'd gone a bit crunchy. Maybe I'll bake for the office again at Christmas time. 

I left there feeling lighter. One I'd accomplished something off my Mom's list. Half the Thank You baskets. In 2015...we cooked a feast for the office. In 2022...I baked 10 dozen cookies. And put together baskets that weighed a ton! I mean they still appreciated it. But I felt like I could have done better. 

I also dropped off a very important gift. My Mom had been making Dr. N. As much anxiety as I was feeling waiting in the office. I sort of wanted to see him open it up. Wanted to see his expression. Just because I know my Mom worked so hard on it. But I didn't see him. Or Orly. Maybe this is just where our stories end.

I left there and headed to Nephrology. Again...silently prayed that I wouldn't run into Christine. I'd love to see her. But wasn't sure having a complete meltdown in the waiting room was the best. The receptionist and MA were so grateful. Hugged me. And gave me their condolences as well. 

When I was walking out the door, I could hear them telling Dr. E about my Mom. And I nearly sprinted in my stilettos across the parking lot. And cried in the truck. I saw him walk out the door. And have never been so grateful for a work truck in my life! Who was blocking me from his view.

I got a lot of closure today. And peace. I had a good interview. I was offered a nice job. But it includes a lot of commuting out of town. Which I'm just not sure of right now. But it was a HUGE boost to my confidence.

But back to those baskets. It wasn't a ton. A few drinks. Some fruit. Candy. Those homemade cookies. And a bunch of snacks. I wish I could have done more. Sent them something amazing. But right now...it's what I can afford. I still need to make my way to Cardiology. And the hospital. I'd like to take 2 sets of baskets to Oncology and the ICU. Day and Night Shift.

I can't begin to express how grateful I am to all of these people. They made our journeys so much easier. All the doctors, nurses, MAs, NPs, receptionists, clerks, FA advisors. All of them. The cleaning crews. Everyone was so wonderful. 

After today...I'm really considering going all out at Christmas time. I love to bake! But have no one to bake or cook for anymore. And this is just a small way to show my appreciation. Because I swear to you...the people who work in Oncology are angels on Earth. 💜

His Kindness

I got the most unexpected call today. But it meant so much. I was having the worst day. As I'm sure so many of you, could imagine. The last few weeks have been so difficult. Unexpected. And have left me feeling so numb.

In all reality, I haven't processed the last few weeks. I haven't cried much. Haven't begun to grieve. I just feel like I'm in shock. Walking around not feeling. Just going through the motions. This is grief. It's real. It's powerful. It's hard. And heartbreaking.

My Mom's services were just over a week ago. I should have grieved then. Cried. Really felt all the feels. Been present in the day. And what was happening. But I was trying to be brave. Be solid for my family. Since my aunt was diagnosed with lung cancer, days after my Mom's death. She had a biopsy on the day of my Mom's rosary. My already emotional family...is teetering on the edge.

And then there was the financial stress of everything. I seemed head under, from day one. Doing it all on my own. Wishing I had the support of others. That people could see, I needed help. I literally was trying to pay the funeral off, up until hours before. I now owe some relatives. But at least my Mom is at rest. This all after I was attacked by our loved ones, because a friend setup a GoFundMe to help. And I closed it down, almost immediately. I'll struggle silently. Because I can't handle all of that drama. 

This week, has just been slow moving. I'm not sure, what's really been going on. The days bleed into each other. I seem to be struggling to keep going. I've reached out to my PCP, for Grief Support or counseling. And it fell on death ears. 

I'm struggling. So bad. My family doesn't seem to recognize or see what I'm going through. In fact, I haven't heard from any of them. I shouldn't be surprised. Because let's face it. They really weren't around when my Mom needed them. Why would they be here for me?

So I was digging in the yard. Trying to keep up with my Mom's flowers. And deciding what  the dogs and I would eat for dinner. Today was so difficult emotionally. I just sat down, in my Mom's favorite part of the yard. And cried. Just let all the emotions sweep over me.

Then my phone rang. Can we say surprised? It was after 5:30PM. On a Friday evening. And I saw the oh too familiar phone number, of the Cancer Center. Who could it be? Is there an emergency? Why would they be calling?

I answered with a very confused, "Hello?" Tears still silently sliding down my face. To hear my Mom's doctor. His calm and steady voice. The voice I'd come to find so much comfort in. Like a sign of safety. He went on to give me his condolences. A lot like the staff at the hospital, he was shocked to hear about my Mom's death. I know. I'm still in shock. But to hear the medical staff say it...I know I'm not alone. No one saw this coming...

We talked for a bit. I tried to hold the tears in. To stay calm. To keep a steady pace about our conversation. But I just couldn't. For the first time since my Mom's death, I just let it all out. Poor Dr. N. He wasn't expecting all of that. The tears that had started out silently. Came in a waterfall effect. The ugly crying started. I couldn't breathe.

And he was just trying to tell me how sorry he was. To ask me...if there was anything he could do. Not expecting my reaction. Or that I'd really ask for help. I couldn't form words. Much less sentences. My brain turned to moosh. I just couldn't find the words. Finally I asked him, if he could help me find some counseling or therapy. I know...I NEED it.

He promised me, he'd talk to the therapist on staff. Told me, he was there if I needed anything. But honestly, I feel stupid. Like why did I finally lose it? And on him. Like crying so hard, I couldn't breathe. I was literally laying on the floor. Trying to catch my breath, telling him I was OK, and asking for help. All at the same time.

Maybe it's because he walked this journey with us. I mean, when someone sees the same things you are seeing. It bonds you. Even if you don't realize it at the time. Maybe it's because he's always been so truthful with us. That I felt this comfortable. I haven't even fallen apart like this...with family. Not even when I've been alone, have I allowed myself to feel the raw emotions.

I needed this call more than I knew. More than he probably knew. I can now see, how important these conversations are. Post caregiving, I have a completely different outlook on patient care. If I return to the medical field, I'll carry this with me. I'll remember how this call, changed things for me. And how I want to be that for someone else. 

Maybe it was his kindness. The simple fact, that he took 10 minutes out of his busy schedule, to ask how I was doing. Something that no one else has done. What does that say about my circle? How little, people really care about MY well being.

I can feel the bottom starting to shake. I know that I need therapy. A lot sooner than I expected. It's all crashing down around me. I'm starting to grieve my Dad. Who past away over 7 years ago. It's like for the first time in my entire life, I get to put my needs ahead of everyone else. And that's so scary. 

10 minutes. A simple call, from a man that was a complete stranger...2 years ago. But I feel like he understands my needs, better than anyone else in my life currently. We got off the call. And I just laid on the cold tile...crying. For almost 2 hours. It was like he opened the flood gates. And everything just came tumbling out.

From the bottom of my heart, I hope that's not how this chapter ends. I'm sure I made zero sense. Sounded like a buffoon. He was probably thinking, I should be committed. For my safety and the safety of those around me. Because my brain seemed to be short circuiting. I couldn't get the words out right. Nothing seemed to be working right. 

I have so much respect for Dr. N. For everything he did for my Mom. For his care over the last 22 months. The respect he showed my Mom. How he always referred to me by name. Knew who I was. Because in almost every other practice...the staff didn't remember my name. They didn't include my Mom in conversations about her health or care. 

This was the first person, besides nephrology, that saw us as people. Real people. Not just another chart to get through. How crazy, that you can establish a closeness...with people that you don't see often. Yes, in 22 months...we probably made it to an office appointment...during 20 months. There were a few telemedicine appointments in between. But was that enough time, for someone to really get to know you? 

I can't tell you what Dr. N's favorite food is. What he does outside of work. What his family looks like. The same way, he doesn't know much about my personal life. He always asked about my work. But he didn't know what my real career was prior to being a caregiver. How I was also a performer. That I can unload a truck of hay...in stiletto heals and pencil skirt. No, we don't know the details of each other's lives.    

But he recognized that I'm struggling. He anticipated that the grief would come and hit like a HUGE wave. And leave me drowning. He anticipated that better than my family. And he reached out. Something no one else has done.

For a few moments, he created a safe space for me. To grieve. And to cry. To feel the emotions that I've had bottled up, deep inside my soul. For that, I'll always be grateful. I hope that Dr. N, doesn't think I'm crazy. I'm just at my lowest point. Trying to keep my head above water. Long enough to breathe. And keep me going. Until I can find my footing again. I'm forever grateful for his kindness. And if nothing else, I hope he knows that. I am grateful to this man, that took such amazing care of my Mom. 💜