Wow, so we are going with the same theory we use at work, write your own performance review and hope the plus column comes out at least one tick ahead of the “needs improvement” check-box! Introspection at it’s best, maybe not. But it does give me a chance to at list think about where things might have gone off-course. Could be that notion of when you point the finger at someone you are pointing four back at yourself?
It’s been a hard year so far. When I sometimes feel the need to write, “Yes, I’m still on the green side of the ground!” in some letter, things are tough. Let’s start with the state of the body. The tumor I had in my kidney was removed and later found to have spread to other parts of my body. Not surprising since I hadn’t been responding to the medication that was prescribed. So little by little we address the ones we find, and try to cut off at the pass those that may show up in the future. The game of cat and mouse is truly annoying at times. I’ve watched some of the people I’ve met not make it, and that is hard to describe. Kids are the hardest for me. You always know it is going to happen, you brace yourself for it, but once it slaps you in the face a piece of you dies as well. Empathy, sympathy and a general fear that you bury within worrying that your family is going to be the next ones to cry as they are led down a hallway. Sometimes you push it down, and other times it takes over. Think about a see-saw with a kid three times your weight on the other end!
I could go into a long diatribe about still dealing with the loss of my daughter. But it would take more space than I have to express fully what that has done to me. For those who understand, you have my deepest sympathy and I would traverse the world to hear you tell the stories of your children. Hug you until my arms fell to my sides from exhaustion and still only be able to momentarily take away that hole in your heart. Others who can only imagine this kind of grief, just know it sucks! It’s easy to say cherish your children, even when they are the world’s biggest pains in the ass. Believe me when I say I would gladly go bail my daughter out of jail for having been caught joyriding in my classic Jaguar at 3 a.m. and deal with that craziness than to feel the way I do.
Relationships are the hardest thing to deal with for me. Still not being capable of getting angry with my ex is something that at times worries me. Not an ounce of anger, just concern for her well-being. Last week I told someone that when I return from my latest round of medical poking and prodding I was going to have a different attitude about people. At some point my feelings have to be addressed and I don’t feel the need to protect other’s from the fallout. I’m not going after anyone, nothing so stupid. But I need to find some answers to a few things and it will mean cracking some eggs along the way. It’s not a secret I’ve been sick, but since they are staying away from all of what has transpired, I tend to not have the same level of protective feelings I once did. It folds into thing the doctors have told me, figure things out now, because later might be a problem. [that whole not responding to treatments at this point changing time tables, at least today!]
Work has been very understanding about all of this. It’s not like they can do anything other than that. We brought in someone to pick up the slack in my absences but she quit when she couldn’t keep up with the pace I had established. A very capable woman but she was being held accountable for the level of work I did. My 6 a.m. office visits weren’t her style. So I continue to pump out the mathematical formulas they require, just sometimes 24 hours later than they expect.
The bright part has been to 13 year old’s who have tried desperately to make me smile. One in Georgia, the other in Massachusetts. They don’t know each other, I can only think of one occasion that could possibly bring them into the same room, but I wouldn’t be able to see it. The one in MA is the granddaughter of the woman I have been crashing with during my time in Boston. She wants to know everything about her aunt who passed long ago. Not the prim, proper stories her father tells of his sister, but some subversive tail of intrigue that only I might know. That has made this time go faster, easier. The one in GA has taken to emailing me long stories of her days. Boys she knows, probably likes but won’t admit that to me, just general teenage girl stuff. Those are a little harder to read since I never had the chance with my own daughter. But I know she is just trying in her own way to make me feel better.
Paul Harvey used to sign off those tales on the radio with “And now you know the rest of the story”. I looked forward to hearing them every Sunday morning while I was growing up, and hopefully with each day a little more of my story will be written, shared with you funny readers.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “State of Your Year.”