Search Term: Downerville

That was how someone found this blog last week. A search for "downerville" brought them here. Talk about a sobering moment. 

Sadly, I know that I couldn't have possibly disappointed them. Because I am a downer right now. It's why I've been avoiding Twitter. It's why only a handful of people come here to read. My world is horrible right now and this is the place I come to vent, to cry and to unload. It has become a hot bed of misery and depression. 

I have no idea when that is going to change either. If anything, it will likely get worse before it gets better. In fact, the worse has already begun. The drug trial my mother was hoping to get into was just closed this week (PLX4032). Her limited treatment options just became even more limited. To make matters worse, it now feels that she's wasted months on that trial, suffering without treatment; all the while, the cancer has been gaining ground.

One step forward, two steps back.

How do you balance a need to be positive with the need to be realistic? I think I'm doing ok in that department, but the dance is growing more complicated and I'm stating to trip over my two left feet.

"OK one more time from the top people! ...5..6..7..8.. and happy thoughts and step ball change and deal with symptoms and lift! Lift! And 1 and 2 and make some plans and 3 and 4 and deal with setba.... STOP! HOLD IT, HOLD IT! Um, Karen you missed that step AGAIN! You need to pay attention! Jeezus, we will never be ready at this rate!"

I'm struggling with focus. Work, housework, juggling mountains of relentless bills with decimally challenged pay cheques, looking after family, managing details and doctors and researching treatments and remembering to shower and trying to look capable; like I'm doing it well and with bravery and grace and courage. But inside I'm a ball of tangled thorny vines and in truth, all of the to-do's are being done marginally at best and some keep getting pushed so far down the list that they fall off into the abyss.  And I don't care. And that my friends is scaring me. 

The only thing keeping me sane these days is knowing I will be leaving for Toronto in 3 weeks. This Christmas has a lot to live up to. I hope it doesn't implode from the pressure. I can't wait to spend 9 blissful days focusing on what matters most. I'm refusing to worry about any of the noise over Christmas. On December 23rd, Downerville will be closed for much needed refueling and celebration with my family, my heart, my everything.

I just hope I can keep it together until then. 

The Hourglass

Lately, I can't help but feel like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz; in the scene where she's locked in the tower and the Wicked Witch has just turned over the hourglass and told Dorothy she would only live until the sand reached the bottom.

Only I won't be the one that dies. 

It will be my mother. 

And I'm helpless to do anything about it.

The sand falls. 

Yet, unlike Dorothy, there is no one to rescue me and fix my mother. I won't be able to break the spell by smashing the hourglass on the ground. 

And for as much as I want this to all be a dream, it is horribly real.

So I am fumbling and stumbling, trying to figure out a way to cope with the fact that my mother... my best friend and confidant is dying. I grapple with that every day, all the while doing my best to be strong for her; to be a good daughter. I want to be just what she needs. I want to get my part right. 

And still, the sand keeps falling. I can only watch. 

I try to savor and treasure every moment like a gift. Because it is. But to be honest, we spend so much time together doing absolutely nothing and I feel like it's a travesty. It's a crime that I'm not making each moment a polaroid memory to get me through the hard times ahead. I feel like I'm wasting time.

And the sand keeps falling.

There are stories to be written, recipes to glean, truths and secrets to be told in hundreds of photos that until now have sat randomly in two wooden boxes; the kind of place we all suitably leave our memories until we need them; until our hearts are broken. 

There is so much to do somewhere between now and when that last grain of sand finally crushes my soul with it's weight; and yet I can't find the energy or the strength to properly preserve and capture the essence of my mother. Perhaps it is because I know it will be impossible. Perhaps  it is because I know that losing her will forever change me and no matter how hard I try, I won't ever be able to document and archive her being, her hugs... Her.  

For her, I need sit with her and hold her hand so she knows she's not alone. That is important. But for me, for her legacy, I have to do what I can to keep as much of her here as possible; even if it's only on paper. That is important too. Because when the sand is gone and I'm sifting through all the remnants of her life wishing hopelessly for more time, I need to know that I did my best to know all I can about her. She won't be able to answer all of my questions then.

I only have now; I only have this grain of sand.