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. 

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. 💜

Family Celebrations

I can't even begin to tell you how long it's been since we've spent time with our extended family. Or when we last went to a big celebration. But yesterday, that is exactly what we did.

My Mom rested all week. Oh, well except for the day of her Oncology appointment. On that day, she got a haircut. And we did a little shopping. Went to Target and Walmart. She found this cute dress. And some smaller clothes. But for the entire week, my Mom rested. She had been looking forward to this wedding for a long time. 

This is my Mom with 2 of her sisters and 1 of her brothers. And the groom...my cousin. It was so nice to see family. To get to chat with people we hadn't seen in years! My Mom and I wore our masks almost the entire time. We obviously took them off to eat. Then to snap a few pictures. But we tried to be as safe as possible. 

I know. It's blurry. This was about 11PM. My Mom was having the BEST time! She danced the night away. Honestly, at one point...I sat there crying. Because of her health, I wasn't sure I'd ever see her dancing and enjoying life again. This was such a treat!

We even got to sit with cousins from out of town. It was the first time I met them. But they were so nice. And I enjoyed chatting with the kids. 3 of the 4 of them, have also battled cancer. It really was a nice day. And we stayed pretty late. I think we got home after midnight. After the weather had changed and we almost blew away.

Here is a picture of most of my first cousins and I. Quite a few people let me know...the clock is ticking. I'm the last one standing. But somehow that doesn't sound right. I know I'm the last one to marry and have kids. And as much as I want that...I'm not sure it will ever happen. #LifeAsACaregiver

It's crazy how events like this, as happy as they are, remind you of the things you are missing. I'm missing a life partner. Babies. Oh, babies. But I also know that my Mom needs me. Like my Dad needed me. That keeps me going.

Ironically on Monday evening, another Uncle of mine, had a serious talk with me. How one day, my Mom won't be here. And I'll be alone. Unless I remedy that. But I'm not lying when I say...unless someone falls from the sky...or I meet them in a Doctor's Waiting Room...well...it just ain't happening. And that makes my heart so sad. But today is not for sadness. It's about happiness and family. And maybe some leftover Sanchez tacos and a nap.  💜