Monday, February 15, 2010

Oh. Hi.

Dan and I, when we lived in D.C., used to have these conversations about what do we do when something happens to our parents, when they can't be alone anymore, when we have to bring them here to live? How do we manage a critically ill parent? And our lives? And our kids? You don't think about the fact that that conversation has almost nothing to do with what actually is about to come crashing into you when it happens.

And when you're sitting in a windowless little room off the inpatient surgical waiting room in the hospital, the motherfucking hospital, man, hearing a surgeon who's just finished cutting open your father saying words like inoperable and prognosis and glioblastoma and it's not what we were hoping to find, please take my word for it when I tell you that it has nothing, abso-fucking-lutely not a single solitary thing to do with that rhetorical conversation you had halfway across the country, the questions that you asked yourself that you can't remember the answer to anymore.

Not a thing.

My stepfather has a brain tumor. He has two brain tumors, actually. But really, when you can't get rid of either one of them, who cares?

I stopped writing here because when Allison was born, back in June (and she's lovely and her birth was a wonderful experience, more than I could have ever hoped for, and I couldn't be more pleased with what a little peep she is, but I'll talk about it another time), as Kimberly said, it felt like an ending. And that was okay.

Also, two kids? The algorithm for how much more work, time, attention, energy and love they require is...it has yet to be quantified. I'm just sayin'. Life is beautiful with them, but, oh.

But now I need this outlet again. I need this space where I can put out there everything that's happening to me, my critically, probably terminally, ill father, how devastated and stunned I am, how I don't know how I will ever feel okay again, all the guilt and anger and sadness that I'm feeling is just like a bomb in my stomach waiting to go off.

I need you, Internet. You're my only hope.

5 comments:

lonek8 said...

we're here.

Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah said...

We've been here waiting.

Anonymous said...

You have to express more your opinion to attract more readers, because just a video or plain text without any personal approach is not that valuable. But it is just form my point of view

Molly said...

Dear Anonymous: Would you like to watch a picture of my father's craniotomy? Or one of the oncologists telling him that his brain tumor is invariably fatal? Maybe you'd like a video of him yesterday while he struggled to remember his grandchildren's names, or fell down in the hallway on his way to the bathroom. Would that be more valuable to you?

Anonymous said...

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