For only the second time in three weeks (if I’m remembering correctly – and I may not be!), Jack is at school. It feels like a major accomplishment! Just yesterday he was complaining about abdominal pain and difficulty breathing, but today he made it to school – on time, even!
Oh, happy day!
But – I.am.tired.
It’s hard enough to shut off worry when things are going as planned, but when they aren’t? Oh my goodness! I feel the worry like it’s a ton of bricks on my back and there is no break from carrying the load. I get slower every day, worn down, and dried out. Sleep isn’t restful and my head hurts constantly. Things that usually bring me joy are less satisfying. My tolerance for additional difficulty is NIL.
I was seriously depressed yesterday. On Monday Jack’s labs came back and were just as dismal as they were last week, even though he hadn’t had the antibiotic (that was supposedly causing the low counts) for ten days prior to that. When I called to speak with the case manager about it and ask when we’d get the test back that would tell us if the chemotherapy drug 6mp was the culprit, we discovered that the test hadn’t been done after all.
That freaking test takes a couple WEEKS to get back results so you can imagine how maddening that is. Jack’s been feeling like crap and had low counts for almost two months now and we have only guesses as to why and they FORGOT to take a vial of blood to send in a pretty important test!!!
GAH! It’s maddening!
Yesterday he continued to hunch over a bit while walking due to pain in his lower abdomen and ran out of energy when we ventured out to the Halloween store. I felt helpless. I emailed his doctor pleading for some sort of idea as to how to help Jack…and how to help myself.
If Jack feels better, I can feel better.
Thankfully, Jack is feeling better enough to attend school today and that helps things. It’s risky, but so necessary. I asked him to stay away from sick kids and I am crossing my fingers that he doesn’t catch anything. Hope, hope, hope. He has big ol’ circles under his eyes (9.5 hours of sleep isn’t enough, apparently), but it’s so important for him to see his peers and get to school at least once in a while! And it’s good for me to be at work and do my thing instead of being a hovering worry-wart constantly taking his temperature. Normalcy is important.
So I’m not as depressed as I was yesterday, but I’m still not super chipper. I guess I’ve hit upon a pocket of grief that I’d been storing somewhere inside of me. It started to come out at Type A Conference when I attended the “We Still Blog” session and heard Julia read her post Landing Into a New Life. I wasn’t just in tears, I was holding back sobs. I mumbled something at Julia about what that post did to me and she said, “I wrote that for you” (people like me, I think she meant), which undid the last string holding me together. My grief started to overflow and I couldn’t focus on the keynote following Julia’s reading. I fled the room and headed to the bar for a stiff drink.
Grief and tears leaked out in bits and spurts all night and, thankfully, I was surrounded by amazing women who hugged me and comforted me (those wonderful ladies deserve a post to themselves!) and got me through it. Thank goodness!
The outpouring of my grief caught me by surprise, though, and I guess I just haven’t quite put a lid on it yet. It’s been taking over my thoughts and stifling my words. I’m not sure what to do about it, so I’m just sitting back, letting it run its course, and hoping I come out the other side feeling more peaceful.
I need peace - even if it’s just for a little bit, and even if it doesn’t last.