What I’d rather be doing instead of being sick and taking care of sick children:
- Unpacking boxes. Nothing gives me a thrill these days like seeing empty boxes piled up by the basement door.
- Kissing my husband. Can’t now though with my germies.
- Grocery shopping. Our house is nearly void of food.
- Planting the last of my Marigolds.
- Playing outside with the boys.
- Napping.
- Reading.
- Watching I Love Lucy. (For some reason when they hooked our cable up here, they give us TV Land. I have no idea why since we didn’t get it before, and we have the same pkg.)
- Rearanging Forest’s dresser so he doesn’t have all his dress clothes down here and all his every day clothes up stairs.
- Visiting Theresa.
- Kissing freshly bathed baby’s cheeks (or Forest’s or Warriors)
- Painting my toe nails.
- Laughing with my mom.
It’s as if the internet gods looked down upon me and realized that I’ve had a sucky day. Okay, a sucky week. Or month. Or whatever. They gave me my high-speed connection back a day early. Hooray!
Levels? Same as last time.
Dr. D’s thoughts? He doesn’t know. Maybe in a year or two when he has to do Chemo again he’ll do the same treatment. He’s not sure. He’s also not sure how it will respond next time. He did the strongest treatment possible. He thought her levels would go up further.
Me? Not what I was hoping for. Cancer STILL SUCKS! So does life now. Car needs several hundred dollars worth of work, Warrior is now barfing, I feel sick too, and my mom’s prognosis is not what I had hoped. Of course everything else would work it’s self out and feel minuscule comparatively, if only it weren’t overshadowed by Cancer.
But tomorrow’s another day, so bring on the rain.
Tomorrow morning my mom goes for her follow-up appointment for her Chemo. This is the appointment where her Oncologist figures that it has been long enough since her last treatment that he’ll be able to tell if the treatment worked or not. The last two appointments have not been great — her levels didn’t come up at all, and the last time they took it, it had come down. But he (Oncologist) said not to give up because he thought her levels were still being messed with by the Chemo. He told us he would know for sure tomorrow. Tomorrow. Ack. My stomach hurts. It’s like Diagnosis Day all over again. If it’s come up, that’s a great, great, GREAT thing. We’ll have more time. If it’s stayed the same, we’re biding our time. If it went down…. God forbid, the thought makes me ill… I can’t wait for tomorrow to come. My mom on the other hand can. She said it’s a way of protecting herself. Tonight she came over and helped me clean up the final things at the apartment. She needed something to keep her mind off of Tomorrow. She seems to be improving and having some really, really good days, so I’m cautiously hopeful. We giggled together as we scrubbed the old refrigerator out. A year ago she could not have done this. Lord, I hope she helps me clean 12 more refrigerators, and not just because I like the help. I want her to help me clean my fridge at the house we buy some day when hubby finally has his teaching job, to clean Forest’s fridge after I send him off to college, to clean out Warrior and his wife’s fridge when they have their first babe and she comes over to help them. I need her. God, you know I need her. Please, please, please let tomorrow be good. Please give my refrigerator cleanin’ Momma her miracle!
Yesterday was Memorial Day. We didn’t have a picnic or anything of that sort. In fact, my husband worked and I spent most of the day unpacking.
However I always try very hard to teach my kiddos what Memorial Day is. I don’t think that patriotism is something that is taught enough to kids these days, and I don’t want my children to be caught in that trend. I want them to love and respect our veterans and current military personnel. There really isn’t anyone that they know in our family who is in the service, aside from my 2 cousins, and I guess I can’t say that they really know them because they live so far away.
So I take them up to my Grandpa’s grave. Grandpa’s been gone for 11 years now (hard to believe), so he’s not here to tell them first hand about his life as a career man in the United States Air force, so I do my best to tell them for him.
This is the first year that I did some homework. I always knew that his grave had this abbreviation; MSGT. I knew that it meant sergeant of some sort, but I didn’t realize what the "M" was. I found out that he was a Master Sergeant and that advancement to Master Sergeant is one of the most significant promotions within the enlisted Air Force. (Whoohoo to learning something new!)
So the boys and I go up after dinner. It was a perfect, sunny, warm evening and a nice break from all of the work we’ve been doing.
We walk up the big hill to Grandpa’s grave. Warrior is immediately enamored by the flag on his grave. He takes it out of the ground and tries to make a run for it. Forest just starts to ask questions. This is the first year that he is aware of why we are here, and who Grandpa is. Or at least semi-aware. He knows Grandpa is MeMe’s Daddy and Gramma’s husband. He knows that we have a connection to him somehow. The part that he really can’t grasp is why he can’t come and see us, and why he’s never seen him and he’s still his Grandpa.
I tell him how Grandpa was in the Airforce and what he’s done for our country. I tell him how he lived on an air force base and that MeMe was born on an air force base (and how no, it was not IN an airplane). I tell him how Grandpa went to two wars and he was very brave and very good to fight for us when we needed it, and how he protected his country.
As I sat there telling my boys what their Grandpa did, trying to instill in them a sense of appreciation and admiration, I look at them and realize that on Memorial Day, yes we celebrate the current soldiers and veterans, but the real reason for Memorial Day is to celebrate The Fallen. We are stopping to take the time to thank them for making the biggest sacrifice available to give, for us. We are not only thanking them, but we are thanking some Momma somewhere. Someone who maybe 20 years ago took her two boys to her Grandpa’s grave and said "See here, boys. Your Grandpa was brave.". Someone who gave everything SHE had to give in her Momma’s heart. Yesterday instead of just remembering the fallen and the current as a whole, I had some sense of connection, of personalization, as I stood there with each of their chubby hands in mine, and realized that celebrating these men and women that have fallen for us, is keeping them alive in some way. And teaching my kids to appreciate this is the only gift I can give to those families who have given their all, their sweat, their blood, their love, through giving us their own children.
Yes, I nearly lost my children (literally) as they ran opposite ways, pellmell through the cemetery. Warrior running as fast as his little legs could carry him, and then some, as he tripped head over heels down the hill. I was sure he was going to crack his head off a headstone. I didn’t know what way to rude and Forest was hiding behind another headstone. It was crazy and hectic to ‘drag’ them there. But the feeling and realization for me, and the hope that someday my boys will have that same sentiment, was more than worth it.
Not only that, I got to introduce my Grandpa to Forest. I told him how Grandpa used to call me rascal and pay me to pick up the apples off of his tree (looking back, heck he made out well!). And when he saw4 green caterpillars on Grandpa’s headstone and said "Momma! How did he know that I like caterpillars so much? I can’t believe he sent me a gift acuz he loves me!", it melted my heart. Grandpa’s not here to know that we’re remembering him and ‘visiting’ him, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t see, or that he can’t give gifts!
