I agreed to go out for coffee with my high school friends tomorrow. I told them it would have to be downtown, because Mom's still in the hospital, and my days lately consisting of waking up, going to school, going to the gym (at school), going to the hospital (10 minutes from school), and going back home at the end, exhausted, to sleep. So we're going somewhere downtown.
They all said something along the lines of "If you need anything, if there's anything I can do, let me know." All I could think of was to ask that they not hug me when they see me. I hate it when I'm upset and pretending I'm not and people go and hug me. I know it's meant to be comforting, but it makes me cry, and I hate crying in front of people. And now it's agreed, there will be no hugging.
I told my boyfriend about going out for coffee, and about not wanting any hugs. "But if someone hugs you, and you start crying, that means you're not okay."
No, but sometimes pretending to be okay is all I've got.
No word yet on how long Mom will have to stay there. They've found something suspicious in her heart - possibly a blood clot, possibly a part of the infection in her blood that may have spread to the heart, possibly a part of the kidney cancer that may have spread to the heart. I didn't think hearts could even get cancer. Apparently they can; it's just extremely rare.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
"you're looking for stability"
I'd just finished crying - in the lab - I hate crying when there are people around, but I couldn't stop it. Luckily my desk is in somewhat of a corner, so not everyone can see me.
Someone who could see me told me about a yoga class she was going to start taking. She said it was because she felt like she was an angry person and she needed to calm down. "You should try it too." I said no, I was still trying to sort my schedule out, still trying to balance research with therapy and thinking and relaxing, and I didn't think I'd have time.
Then ten minutes passed and I felt like crying again.
So I signed up for yoga.
And the first class was yesterday - 8:00 in the morning, bright and early. Well not so bright, it being winter and cold and gray. And I am not a morning person, but I'm trying to be, as part of my get-my-life-back-together plan. But I did, somehow, manage to wake up at 6:30 and make it to yoga for 8:00.
I've never taken an actual yoga class before. I've gone to a couple drop-in workshop type things, but this was the first time I was with an instructor who really focused on linking the movements with breathing. It made me realize how messed up my breathing is. It doesn't have a set pace or rhythm. It speeds up and slows down and I actually seem to have a tendency to hold it for long periods without realizing it. I think that probably reflects on how stressed out I am, but it's something I can work on now that I'm aware of it.
We were going through some basic movements, and something the instructor said really struck me. "You're looking for stability. In this pose, in any pose, yoga is about stability." It just sort of resonated; it seems like good advice for life too. Anywhere you are in life, look for stability.
Mom is still in the hospital. The doctors found and repaired a tear in her stomach, and we were all so incredibly happy momentarily - because we thought that was the end of the internal bleeding problems. But she's still losing blood so there's more - maybe more tears, maybe something else - and so it's not over yet. I'm visiting her every day, and bringing my laptop so we can watch movies and pass the time. She's lost a lot of weight lately, which frightens me, because she hasn't been trying to, and it's not good to lose that much weight if you're not trying to. But it means we both fit easily in her hospital bed, so we both lay against the raised part of the bed, with our heads against the same pillow, and watched movies. It would have been cozy if it wasn't such a depressing setting.
Someone who could see me told me about a yoga class she was going to start taking. She said it was because she felt like she was an angry person and she needed to calm down. "You should try it too." I said no, I was still trying to sort my schedule out, still trying to balance research with therapy and thinking and relaxing, and I didn't think I'd have time.
Then ten minutes passed and I felt like crying again.
So I signed up for yoga.
And the first class was yesterday - 8:00 in the morning, bright and early. Well not so bright, it being winter and cold and gray. And I am not a morning person, but I'm trying to be, as part of my get-my-life-back-together plan. But I did, somehow, manage to wake up at 6:30 and make it to yoga for 8:00.
I've never taken an actual yoga class before. I've gone to a couple drop-in workshop type things, but this was the first time I was with an instructor who really focused on linking the movements with breathing. It made me realize how messed up my breathing is. It doesn't have a set pace or rhythm. It speeds up and slows down and I actually seem to have a tendency to hold it for long periods without realizing it. I think that probably reflects on how stressed out I am, but it's something I can work on now that I'm aware of it.
We were going through some basic movements, and something the instructor said really struck me. "You're looking for stability. In this pose, in any pose, yoga is about stability." It just sort of resonated; it seems like good advice for life too. Anywhere you are in life, look for stability.
Mom is still in the hospital. The doctors found and repaired a tear in her stomach, and we were all so incredibly happy momentarily - because we thought that was the end of the internal bleeding problems. But she's still losing blood so there's more - maybe more tears, maybe something else - and so it's not over yet. I'm visiting her every day, and bringing my laptop so we can watch movies and pass the time. She's lost a lot of weight lately, which frightens me, because she hasn't been trying to, and it's not good to lose that much weight if you're not trying to. But it means we both fit easily in her hospital bed, so we both lay against the raised part of the bed, with our heads against the same pillow, and watched movies. It would have been cozy if it wasn't such a depressing setting.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
admitted
Mom was admitted to the hospital on Friday. I threw up on Saturday. I think the two are related.
She called, just to keep me in the loop, it's nothing serious really, they just want to keep an eye on her. If I had some time could I visit? Because they haven't given her anything to eat or a room to stay in yet and she's starving. But when I have a minute. She doesn't want me to drop whatever it is I'm doing. It's no big deal, really.
Mom, don't you ever get sick of being the strong one, even when you're bleeding internally with infections in your blood and your lungs?
Of course I dropped whatever it was I was doing. And on my way out of the lab, I glared at the girl across from me - who I had told about Mom, and who was now whining because she just wants to go to the gym and she doesn't have a hair tie and how can she go to the gym now?
At least you're going to the gym and not a hospital.
We sat together, she trying to look not-sick, me trying to look not-worried. How many times will we have to play these roles?
I said goodbye, left, stopped, went back, bought her books, said goodbye again, got on the subway and got angry at the tears in my eyes.
And then I was back at the house with her medical equipment in it, alone on the first floor, and it was over before I knew what was happening. Cookies and ice cream, in and out, 30 minutes total. Easy, too easy, still, after all these months trying. Too easy to return to. But I know that. I know it might start at 30 minutes, but it won't take long, if I let it, to start carving out hours of my day, wasting it on eating and un-eating.
Maybe I need to just make sure I'm not alone with Mom still being in the hospital.
She called, just to keep me in the loop, it's nothing serious really, they just want to keep an eye on her. If I had some time could I visit? Because they haven't given her anything to eat or a room to stay in yet and she's starving. But when I have a minute. She doesn't want me to drop whatever it is I'm doing. It's no big deal, really.
Mom, don't you ever get sick of being the strong one, even when you're bleeding internally with infections in your blood and your lungs?
Of course I dropped whatever it was I was doing. And on my way out of the lab, I glared at the girl across from me - who I had told about Mom, and who was now whining because she just wants to go to the gym and she doesn't have a hair tie and how can she go to the gym now?
At least you're going to the gym and not a hospital.
We sat together, she trying to look not-sick, me trying to look not-worried. How many times will we have to play these roles?
I said goodbye, left, stopped, went back, bought her books, said goodbye again, got on the subway and got angry at the tears in my eyes.
And then I was back at the house with her medical equipment in it, alone on the first floor, and it was over before I knew what was happening. Cookies and ice cream, in and out, 30 minutes total. Easy, too easy, still, after all these months trying. Too easy to return to. But I know that. I know it might start at 30 minutes, but it won't take long, if I let it, to start carving out hours of my day, wasting it on eating and un-eating.
Maybe I need to just make sure I'm not alone with Mom still being in the hospital.
Friday, January 14, 2011
so drunk
But just the right level of drunk.
I can look inward if I want to, deep into the things I don't normally think about.
I can look outward if I want to, lose myself and watch everything blur by.
Or I can stay here, in between..
I can do anything.
I can look inward if I want to, deep into the things I don't normally think about.
I can look outward if I want to, lose myself and watch everything blur by.
Or I can stay here, in between..
I can do anything.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
words and words and words...
I am so sick of writing.
The last day of school was December 20th, and since then, I've spent every single day writing. First an 18-page research progress report (that's 18 pages single-spaced and size 10), which I emailed out yesterday (yes, yesterday, New Year's Eve; I managed to finish it and email it all of 20 minutes before people came over for a party).
And now on to another assignment, this one on green roofs. I have no idea how big it will be yet, likely 10-15 pages. But I've been reworking the same paragraph for something like 2 hours already, I think I'm just completely out of motivation. I want to go outside, watch a movie, run in the park, something, anything other than sit here and keep writing.
And then on Monday it's back to school. And I've got a presentation on Tuesday, so as soon as I finish this assignment, I need to start working on that. Ha, so much for a break.
The last day of school was December 20th, and since then, I've spent every single day writing. First an 18-page research progress report (that's 18 pages single-spaced and size 10), which I emailed out yesterday (yes, yesterday, New Year's Eve; I managed to finish it and email it all of 20 minutes before people came over for a party).
And now on to another assignment, this one on green roofs. I have no idea how big it will be yet, likely 10-15 pages. But I've been reworking the same paragraph for something like 2 hours already, I think I'm just completely out of motivation. I want to go outside, watch a movie, run in the park, something, anything other than sit here and keep writing.
And then on Monday it's back to school. And I've got a presentation on Tuesday, so as soon as I finish this assignment, I need to start working on that. Ha, so much for a break.
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