I Left My Aviators

This is how much I don't think of me. When I was only thinking of Jason, my aviators were always at the collar of my shirt. Waiting for any moment of eye leakage or the emotion that rides my face when I don't know it. I can hide my scowl, upset, and worried looks. But of course. The dam must have broken and I moved a notch on the grief scale.

I read something today and I cried. I cried a long over due release of emotion and 34 minutes later I wasn't completely finished but I needed to board a train and make it into work. 

I needed to move on.

But I left my fucking aviators

Because God is Good All The Time

Praise God for all of his favor.

Test of Patience

Jason is having a setback. Please pray. Don't just say he is in your prayers. Please mean it. Have the dialogue with God. When the chorus of prayers started, he heard you. I need him to hear you. I need you to be loud.

Please.

Welcome To The Abyss

It's endless.

It is.

From daily life to scheduling doctor's appointments for the best specialists for not one but two very distinct diseases. I want to be Negan-like ruthless in my pursuit of scans and second opinions and doctors that can help Jason and now help me.

But I find myself more like Rick. 

I am tired.

I have a second opinion weeks away with one of the best. I worry what the cancer is doing inside me until that time. Worrying is praying for something you don't want. So I convince myself that I am not worried. I am just overly conscious. Conscious that a foreign item I have no control over has Insidously housed itself inside me. I have to be patient in finding the exact way to take control of it.

Cancer doesn't hurt. That's a fucking lie. Pain is what started my investigation that found it. 

I have check-ups for babies and my self and the husband and all these extra scans that will make me glow in the dark eventually. I am hyper sensitive on both ends of the spectrum because I can't move on the grief scale from anger.

I am grateful to God for the revelation of what I carry. I am grateful for the help and everything I received to help Jason make it this far in recovery and I pray so hard for more, to finally get him carried over the threshold to conquering this crazy ass disease he has.

Even with all my gratitude for every blessing - I am so angry.

I just don't know who I am mad at.

Sore Loser

We stepped back a little. Jason's Hallucinations are up. Nothing horrible, (yet). A gentler, calmer hallucination. The problem is, a step back puts us all at edge and less at ease. We have seen the other side. We are all terrified of going there. Hallucinations are usually the precursor to a more ominous Jason.

In other news...

I have a chance at saving my kidney. Laparoscopic. See usually at this part I would say I am already fucked you can't be more fucked -but apparently you can. I can live on half a kidney if need be, and so far I have a spare. If I remove this entirely and something forms in the other that is where the "more fucked" option comes in. So at this point I am making every effort to save it.

But the terror doesn't come in that. The terror I have right now is going offline. Not being able to be there should this ominous warning from Jason's psyche produce something more. No one in this world loves Jason as much as I do. No one in this world could understand.

Thinking about him going full hulk and needing the hospital to subdue him the only way they possibly can with cops and sending him out to a hospital that I cannot run to is killing me more than any cancer could. Thankfully we have not come to this. But I need to make every effort not to.

I usually do this unmedicated. But now I need the meds. Now that fucking crack in my psyche is oozing and my poker face has eyes that glisten uncontrollably. I still don't cry, but I definitely can't hide the emotion as well as I once could.

It's a lot to hold in. Imagine holding back a tidal wave with a screen door...

You got me. You got me good. You blindsided me while I was in the middle of a war with my son and reminded me I am mere Mortal. I always thought Jason was my Achilles heel, but apparently I have  another. 

There are many levels of pain, and when you think you reach your threshold, you get reminded there are more.

If you ask me my programmed response is "I'm ok" The second response "I am alive"

I can't admit that I am actually a mess in the middle of two wars: one for the life of my son and now for my own life.

I am in no way shape or form prepared to lose either. 

Party All The Time

Jason called me from the hospital last night at 10pm. He was dressed and letting me know he was going to "the party". Hallucinations holding on a bit too tightly that he is still in college and chasing girls. Not in an in-patient facility with A Gtube. He dressed himself in street clothes and was getting ready to hit them streets.

Me: Jason you can't go I told you, it's Wednesday. 

Jason: so I don't have class tomorrow.

Me: I said no.

Jason: what do you mean I am 18! You are so annoying! (Click)

He wouldn't answer my calls after that and turns out The CNA was able to talk him out of it.

I relayed the conversation to Carmelo and we both kind of laughed. I squinted my eyes at the ceiling:

"THIS AND CANCER Bruh?!"

Dayum.

Dark Sense Of Humor

"Worrying is like praying for something you  DON'T WANT To Happen."

Best advice In The FREE FUCKING WORLD.