Matt is home! His two weeks in North Carolina finally came to an end last Friday, and the poor guy was terribly homesick. The job didn’t quite pan out the way we expected, and there’s still a chance he’ll have to go back. He is digging his feet in about not. But for now, he’s home, and I think he’s pretty happy about that.
I had all these grand ideas about what I was going to accomplish while he was gone. A lot of it didn’t get done, but I did get a pretty big chunk of stuff accomplished, so that feels satisfying. I also thought I was going to have all this glorious time alone, and I think I actually had maybe two days to myself. Otherwise, I’ve been constantly on the run.
Kathy got home from New Jersey the same day. She’d been helping Kevin with the kids while Crissy was away on a job, and they all managed to be together for Mae’s birthday before Kathy headed home. So that was nice.
Saturday, Matt and I spent most of the day being lazy, catching up and enjoying having him home. I figured he’d be perfectly content to sit on the couch and do absolutely nothing all weekend. Then Kathy stopped by, and the two of them decided Bloody Marys sounded like a great idea. Then Matt suggested we take Kathy to Blume and Ferris Public House, our new favorite little find. Well, okay then! I jumped in the shower, Kathy ran home to get ready, and off we went. We had a great time. I certainly wasn’t expecting Matt to want to go out after being away for two weeks, but I’m glad he did.
Sunday, Kathy and I ran some errands in the morning, and then we relaxed at home and finished watching the Bears game. A pretty great weekend, actually.
Before I get into the rest of this week, I do want to mention something about this blog.
This is my therapy. It’s where I dump all the crazy thoughts running around in my head and try to get them from my brain onto paper. Sometimes they come out a little wonky. Sometimes they probably don’t make much sense to anyone but me. But I never write with the intention of getting anyone in trouble, invading anyone’s privacy or hurting anyone’s feelings.
However, my biggest blog fan apparently misconstrued something I wrote in my last entry and tried to get my beloved UB in trouble! Which was actually the complete opposite of what I meant. But I guess that’s the problem with writing sometimes. People interpret things differently, especially in text messages, where you can’t hear someone’s tone or understand exactly what they’re trying to say.
Anyway, Aunt Susie made dinner for me while Matt was gone and dropped it off at the house. It was one of my grandma’s old recipes, and it was absolutely delicious. I ate it for dinner that night, then lunch and dinner the next day. So she’s officially forgiven for trying to get UB in trouble.
Ken also came down for a few days while Matt was away to help me with the dogs, since I had George staying with us while Kathy was gone. That was really nice.
I had him bring my mom’s urn because I was going to the funeral home to get the little keepsake urns for Grace and me with Dad’s ashes. I figured I’d ask if they could do the same with Mom’s ashes, even though she hadn’t been cremated through their funeral home. Thankfully, they were happy to help. Because God forbid I attempt that myself again. I know I’ve written about the time I somehow managed to get my mom’s ashes in my hair. At least I hope I have, because it’s definitely a story worth telling.
Anyway, Ken headed home, and I had to laugh when I realized I needed to call him while he was on the road.
“Hey, you forgot Mom.”
So she’s still here with me.
I’ve been thinking a lot about death and what happens afterward. I’ve never been a religious person. I honestly don’t know what I believe, but I do believe, or at least really want to believe, that there could be a heaven. Somewhere I get to see everyone again. I see people lean into their faith during grief, and it genuinely seems to bring them comfort. I wish I had that. I wish I could believe so strongly in something that it would make all of this easier.
But then I think about people like Kirby and Wes. Why do such terrible things happen to good people? Why would any God allow people to suffer through catastrophic illnesses? I don’t know how to make sense of that. I don’t know what this enormous universe is made of or how people find that kind of faith.
I just know I’ve been carrying around this empty, tight feeling in my chest, and I really want it to go away.
My friend Tricia’s mom passed away, and I went to her wake last week. Her mom suffered from dementia for many, many years. After experiencing even the relatively short period of my dad’s decline, I cannot imagine what her family went through. That long, slow goodbye, watching someone you love disappear over so many years. And they lost her brother less than fifteen years ago too. Just so much heartache for one family.
Being in a funeral home certainly didn’t help my mood.
I also finished Theo of Golden, and it was wonderful. I absolutely loved it. Except for Chapter 58. If you’ve read it, you understand.
There was always this melancholy undertone to the book, even with all the beauty in it. And I’ve been thinking that I seem to have a melancholy undertone myself lately. Which is very unfamiliar territory for me.
I haven’t been feeling particularly well either, which certainly doesn’t help. My right arm has really been bothering me, and I probably need to go in for that lymphedema evaluation. But I also have a bad shoulder on that side, so who knows? Torn rotator cuff? Frozen shoulder? Old age? At this point, your guess is as good as mine. I just know it hurts, and I’m tired of trying to figure out which part of my body is responsible for making me miserable.
It’s just annoying. And exhausting. The constant aches and pains. Wondering whether I’m doing my body a favor by working out or actually making things worse. Some days I really don’t feel well, and it’s frustrating because I want to be active. I want to feel good.
And then Monday happened.
I woke up with what I thought was a sinus headache. Matt wasn’t working, so he was home that morning. By the time I got out of the shower, the headache had gotten pretty intense. My vision was blurry, and my hands and feet were tingling, almost like they were falling asleep. Well, that’s a little concerning. Of course, the thought of a stroke crossed my mind, although the fact that it was happening in all four extremities made me wonder what the hell was going on but probably not a stroke. When I mentioned it to Matt, he immediately thought stroke and insisted we go to the emergency room.
And there went Monday. Blood work, an EKG, a CAT scan, and hours of sitting around waiting for answers. I ended up missing the entire workday and didn’t get out of there until about 3:30. The conclusion? Possibly a migraine. Okay…
There were a few things in my test results that caught my attention. I wouldn’t necessarily call them red flags, but maybe yellow flags. Nothing that seemed to alarm the emergency room staff, but enough that I’m following up with my GP and oncologist. Depending on what they think, I may also be visiting an endocrinologist, neurologist or ENT. Because why have one doctor when you can collect the entire set?
One interesting little tidbit from my CT scan that actually made me chuckle is that apparently my pituitary gland is a little deflated. Deflated! I mean, have you ever heard of such a thing? Apparently, even my glands are exhausted.
And from what little I know about the pituitary gland and its role in regulating hormones and metabolism, I can’t help but wonder whether this could have something to do with my struggles with weight. Maybe it means absolutely nothing, but it’s certainly something I’m curious about and will be asking my doctors. Because, seriously, a deflated pituitary gland? What the fuck is next?
I’ve felt like shit all week. The headache hasn’t completely gone away, and that makes me a little nervous. I’ve also been having tingling in my hands and feet for a while, along with this ongoing problem with my right arm. I don’t know if any of it is connected, but clearly there are a few things I need to get checked out. I don’t want to make a big deal out of something that may turn out to be nothing, especially since nobody at the hospital seemed particularly concerned. But I also know my body, and something just hasn’t felt right.
And of course, when I don’t feel well, that little thought creeps in.
What if there’s cancer somewhere? I don’t think I was ever really afraid of dying from cancer, though. What scared me was the sepsis. Because I actually felt my body shutting down. I felt like I was dying.
I’ve been thinking about that experience again lately, especially now that Dad is gone.
It was during COVID, and the hospital only allowed two designated visitors. They actually had their names documented, and those were the only two people allowed in. Mine were Matt and my dad. Grace was away at ISU at the time. Dad and Kathy were supposed to go to Florida, and of course, I didn’t want anyone worrying about me or putting their lives on hold. I knew Kathy really wanted to get away, so I insisted that Dad go on their trip. But I was really sick. And I remember feeling guilty because I didn’t know if I was going to make it. What if I died while he was in Florida? What would that have done to him, knowing I had insisted he leave? I am so glad he went, though. At the same time, I ended up fighting with the hospital administration because I needed to take Dad off my visitor list and replace him with Grace. Matt had called her and told her she needed to come home because he didn’t know what was going to happen to me. And that still gets me when I think about it. My husband having to make that phone call to our daughter.
Thankfully, after about 48 hours of not knowing what was going to happen, that horrible feeling of my body shutting down started to pass, and I began getting better. I don’t think I ever really feared the cancer itself the way I feared that infection. I just don’t want any more surgeries, infections or complications. I don’t want to feel any more like shit than I already do sometimes. I’m tired of my body being such a pain in the ass.
And I think that’s part of what’s frustrating about this melancholy feeling. I’m generally a pretty happy person. I’m a glass-half-full kind of chick. Sometimes I actually want to stay crabby. I want to be depressed and crotchety and feel sorry for myself for a while. But then I get around other people, and I can’t seem to stay that way. I start talking and laughing, and suddenly the blah feeling lifts.
Which is probably why, despite feeling lousy, I still managed to get out and have dinner with Nancy on Tuesday night. And yesterday, I went to dinner with Drew, just the two of us. We had the best time. He got wine drunk, and we laughed so hard. It was one of those nights when you just can’t stop laughing, which felt especially good after the week I’d had.
But yesterday was also the anniversary of Kirby’s death. And here’s the interesting part. Drew has Kirby’s van, and yesterday, of all days, I was driving it. On the anniversary of Kirby’s death. I don’t know. There’s something kind of serendipitous about that. Of all the days to be driving around in Kirby’s van, it happened to be that one.
I think that’s part of why I love spending time with people. I can be feeling absolutely miserable, but get me around someone I enjoy, and suddenly I’m laughing and having a good time. I’ve known so many people, including my mom, who carried around enormous amounts of stress and worry. And I really believe that kind of negativity takes a toll on you. Maybe not in some magical way where every bad thought makes you sick, but I can’t imagine carrying all that stress around all the time is good for anybody. I don’t want to live like that. I don’t want to spend my life worrying about things I can’t control or being so consumed by everything that could go wrong that I forget to enjoy what’s actually happening. But I also can’t seem to shake this feeling lately. This strange, unfamiliar melancholy.
Anyway, it’s Friday. Thank God.
Wednesday was Maggie’s birthday, and we’ll get to celebrate her tomorrow at Wilson’s annual pumpkin carving. I cannot wait to see what UB comes up with this year. His creations are always something to look forward to.
We’ve also got Charlie, our crazy granddog, staying with us this weekend because Grace is off to a bachelorette party in Iowa. So once again, our house has gone to the dogs. Grace has also finished all her specialist appointments, and now it’s a matter of waiting for results and seeing what referrals come next. I’m happy she’s getting things checked out and hopefully getting closer to some answers. All good things for her, too.
Next week is Halloween, and then it’s Palm Springs!
Crissy sent out the itinerary, and I have to say, I really like her style. I’m totally down with having everything planned out. I like knowing what’s happening, where we’re going and what we’re doing. More people should be like that! I’m so excited for this trip.
But first, let’s see what the weekend brings.
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