Chapter Seven - Survival mode, anxiety at it's worst, and what's the worst that can happen

So last we saw me I was a victim of domestic violence with a seemingly well mother who had a time bomb in her body, and we didn't know what time it was set for. I was afraid of my brother, afraid of being homeless, afraid of my niece going into foster care, afraid of losing the only person who really and truly loved me the way I needed to be loved, afraid of letting everyone down, and feeling guilty for wanting to run as far as I could from everyone. Anxiety is the worst thing I have ever experienced. Depression was bearable in comparison. I was so tired. I felt like crap from chemo and more and more my mom needed me to take care of Lissie.Also, in April I crashed our car into the garage. (my dad told me I could back in and I was clear. Rule #1 never listen to my dad.) Not really a big deal in the long run but made me want to die. It was the catalyst though, to having me start driving school and I finally got my drivers license August 2010, which was the absolute most positive thing that helped me to that point. I think that was the time when I began to think, everyone has one thing they are afraid of, and they say I could never survive that, anything but that. I have had a lot of those moments from then til now, and I see that even if I think that will just kill me, it never really does.
May was a hard month. My mom got pneumonia and had to spend a week in the hospital. During that time, I had the worst chemotherapy round of them all. I was so sick, but I had to take care of an autistic child all by myself. To this day, I hate the barney video she watched over and over during that time. I had to figure out how to do laundry all by myself for the first time. That is pathetic sounding but you have to remember, my mom never taught me this stuff. I was so scared of doing something wrong and I cried constantly that whole week. If my mom had died that week I don't think I would have survived it without going into an institution or something. Around this time I started therapy and Welbutrin and it took a long time but I think it helped. From this point on, my mother had to be on 24/7 oxygen. I tried to control my anxiety by packing up posessions, because my thought process was I wasn't going to be able to do it myself when she died, and I needed her to help me know where everything was. I got rid of a lot of stuff. I wanted to travel light, I really thought I was going to be out on the street or something because I just was a bundle of nerves and was so scared and didn't think I could really do anything by myself.
I finished up chemo, and in July my mom went to the oncologist and decided not to pursue treatment. I am so thankful she got to see me get my driver's license. That august was the beginning of me finding my confidence. I could drive like an adult. I could do anything I set my mind to. I think it was a combination of my meds kicking in and my coping strategies, but whenever something overwhelmed me I found something I was capable of. I am capable of washing these dishes. I am capable of packing this box, etc. I just decided to do project after project. When something got me down, I researched and I figured it out. For several months I had been getting Lissie off to school, going for a walk and journaling, and just getting through the days. I kept saying when I felt better I was going to find a job and move out. I knew deep down that mamma had to die first, and that made things kind of difficult in my head. I didn't want her to die, but I hated the status quo. I didn't like to be entering the unknown, I wanted a plan, I became a control freak. I got upset if anything was sprung on me, and I really wanted a blueprint for the rest of my life. I went to this class about how your life is like this circle with wedges. When one is out of whack, the wheel won't roll and stuff like that. It was how to plan your life and fix things. I think it helped a little but I still was really messed up inside.
In September, my mom entered hospice. They were wonderful and it was really a necessity because doctor appointments were getting difficult for her. Those months with hospice were really hard for me. I didn't want to be around my mom because she wasn't my mom anymore. She smelled bad because the cancer made her sweat a lot. I couldn't hug her because it hurt her. Also, part of it was she couldn't do anything for me anymore. That sounds shallow and mean, it isn't that I didn't love her anymore because I couldn't get anything out of her, it is so much of our relationship was her taking care of me. I didn't know how to reverse that. I did my best but I felt so lost. And whenever I looked at her I felt so sad, because I couldn't do anything for her. Then in October, I had to have a hernia surgery. It was not a big deal and I healed quickly. My mother really made me mad with a comment, not again, you had your turn already what am I going to do without you? I was praying to die on that table. That is so selfish because my mom needed me. From that point on for most of the next 2 1/2 months or so, my sister, Theresa came over every day, helped me with the housework. got me through the surgery, and kept things going even when I was well  so I could take care of my mother, and helped take care of her daughter. I think that was what I needed for many reasons. I saw that I wasn't truly alone. My other sister, Tara, also was a big help and came over more often. I can't remember exactly when it happened, but I think the crossroads was when I talked to a social worker and she said I could always call cps to take over with Lissie, but once I crossed that road it would be difficult to go back, but I could just take one day at a time and try to raise her.

Chapter Eight - November-the month I hate the most

I think I can honestly say without hesitation that November 2010 was the worst month of my life. There is a lot of specifics I can't really remember during this period but I will go over the basics. First of all, it was the last time my mother was well enough to pay bills and do basic business. She never left the house of her own accord after November 3rd. That is when she began the real process of dying. We had to set up a hospital bed at that point in the living room and she never went upstairs again.  Our days were basically spent dosing her with meds, helping her to the bathroom, and trying to give her what food and drink she could handle. I remember one day close to Thanksgiving, I needed her to sign a check and she couldn't manage to do it, and that is when I realized she was really going away. It got so bad for me, that even though I was still scared of what lay ahead, I was mentally ready to let go of her. I was already mourning the mother I lost. Her funny wit, her comforting presence, even arguing with her. Then came the Thanksgiving that made me hate that day. At some point in October, our secret about Daniel's violence was revealed to my sister Tara, because he basically cussed her out and let lose years of resentment. Never did it get physical and he was the one who removed himself from the house, but it did nothing to help my anxiety and I came clean about the real reason I went to the E.R. in April with my sister. I don't know if I was correct or not in that but I desperately needed to reach out to someone, not that it did a lot of good. Anyway, I hosted thanksgiving for the first time, which gave me a sense of pride and accomplishment. I was worn out from cooking and taking care of Lissie and I still don't completely know what set it off, but I think it had to do with Tara sounding bossy (which is second nature as the oldest sister anyway) she merely told everyone to turn their heads that my mom had to go to the bathroom (she had a portapotty in the living room) My brother really went off on my sister and told her to get out of the house. I had a huge mess in the kitchen still to clean up and people were still eating and there were the other nieces present. It never really got physical but the PTSD I talked about before really got to me, and I couldn't stop crying all night. What is worse, my mom was conscious and begged him to calm down which broke my heart. That was probably her last real conscious moment and I don't want to say I will never forgive him, because I have, but I would hate to go around with something like that on my conscience.
At that point I was motivated beyond all reason to get as far away from him as I could. I just wanted so badly to find a safe place. I think part of me wanted him to just kill me and get it over with, I do know that I blew it way out of proportion in my head. but I was really afraid of him. From that point for a few days, things were tense and my mom went into a coma. We slept over monday and tuesday night. Something told me we were very close. Aside from my brother, whom I still had a lot of negative feelings towards, I felt so close to my family at that time. At sometime between 5:15 and 5:20, my mom passed away. I want to say I felt her heart stop but I can't be positive. I was completely numb and went through the motions of what had to be done for the next few days.   Even to this day months later, it still doesn't feel real. I feel guilty sometimes for being able to go on so relatively well when she was the most important person and still is the most important person in my life. It almost seems like she was never here most of the time. I guess it has to be that way in order to cope. I still have things of hers to go through, it is still too fresh and raw at the moment. I read grief tends to peak at the third month and that makes a lot of sense because, as I will write about, a lot of practical matters had to be dealt with in the months following her death that only now, every once in a while I think, I need to ask momma, and she isn't here and it is like someone punched me in the stomach. Also, when I get overwhelmed and exhausted and everyone fails me in some way or another, my gut instinct is to go cry on her shoulder and she isn't there. I know I will see her again. I don't think God lets people that have passed on look down on us because I can't imagine it being a pleasant thing to look down on this world, and there are no tears in heaven, but I hope now and again he tells her how much I love her, how sorry I am that I took her for granted, that I am okay and doing pretty well all things considered, and that I look forward to seeing her again.

Chapter Nine - December without Momma and becoming the person in charge

December was a strange month. It was mostly wrapped up in making Christmas happen for Lissie and if it wasn't for her we probably wouldn't have celebrated it. Fortunately I have a tradition of putting the tree up the day after Thanksgiving so I didn't have to go through all that during the aftermath. My mom wanted to donate her body to science because she didn't want us spending money on a "shell" but she didn't make arrangements beforehand so we had to have her cremated, and luckily my brother had been saving money and could afford the $600 to do it. I don't really remember a whole lot from that month except planning the memorial, and making the photo slideshow for it. I was very numb and had a lot of decisions and responsibilities thrust upon me. I still wanted to move out and was researching careers and trying to figure out what to do to make ends meet. I figured I just needed a part time job if Rebekah got her social security which she totally qualifies for. I wanted to pare down. I was and still am overwhelmed to a certain extent with a large apartment and everyone's stuff. However, a lot changed starting December 7th. I awoke suddenly in a lot of pain. The right side of my pelvis was throbbing and I could feel a knot there. I thought maybe I had another hernia because I have a couple family members who had hernias there. I went to the doctor and they said they would order a CT and if I started vomiting or the pain increased, I should go to the E.R. I went home and called the CT people and they said insurance had to approve the CT and it might be a couple weeks. Well I decided I was going to have vomiting and increased pain and go to the E.R. for my CT and the CT came back showing an enlarged lymph node. That night I had a dream that I had cancer in the lymph node. Now I don't believe in ESP or anything out there, but something makes me think my subconscious just knew something. Anyway, I researched reoccurrence  of cancer within the node and the info didn't sound good. That morning  I will never forget I thought to myself, if I wind up following in Momma's footsteps with the hospice and the whole 9 yards and dying, I probably won't get any help, they will all shut down into depression like they did with her, I will lay there and die ignored, because I don't have a me like my mom had. I don't have one person I can truly rely on for emotional support, and all. I got to thinking what do I want to do or whatever before I die. Mind you I didn't think I was dying but I just really was sensitive to my mortality. I always assumed I would be raptured before I died since I believe in the pre-trib rapture and there just seems to be a lot of evidence that this world can't go on much longer. Anyway, the only answer I could come up with is I want a cat. I really wished I could have had my cat that I grew up with during my previous bout with cancer, it would have been very theraputic and comforting. He died the summer of 2008 and I still remember my mother saying something had to move out or die before we would get another pet. I could actually laugh that she got her wish. See, I knew she was happy and free of pain in that wonderful place called heaven, that I mentioned earlier, so I could think of her the way she was before she got so sick. I nonchalantly  went downstairs that morning and said, we are getting a cat. No one argued with me! At that moment I realized, I have power. What I say goes! I eventually got my baby that I have now January 1st, but backing up I managed to get through the memorial December 14th and by the time I got to my follow up appointment after that E.R. visit, the lymph node had grown even more. Around Christmas I got very ill with some kind of cold but it had few symptoms I just felt totally drained. I had gone over to my niece's for Christmas and she had invited me and Lissie. It was a nightmare keeping Lissie out of trouble and I was absolutely miserable to a certain extent, and shortly after dinner I realized I had a fever. For 3 days or so I was really sick and I had very little help. It turned to bronchitis, and I lost my voice for a long time. I had a few well days before the bronchitis set in, and during this time Lissie broke out in a horrible rash. We got her to the doctor and he said it was probably an allergic reaction. we gave her Benedryl and it cleared up after after a few days. Then came that Bronchitis I was talking about. They had scheduled me for surgery January 20th to remove that node for biopsy. The day before when I was supposed to go in for pre-op, Lissie got the rash again. I didn't know what to do I was so sick and her mother and I got in a huge argument via e-mail because she was in bed with whatever I had supposedly, and wouldn't put her daughter first for once, and I didn't know who I could depend on, I was afraid to go under the knife not knowing if she would be taken care of and it was just so stressful. I ended up dosing her all through the night with benadryl and the rash never got up to her face and went away. To this day, it has never come back so I don't know what it was. So I went into surgery, I woke up and was told the cancer was back. I am not the type who cries in public but I started bawling and the nurses were hugging me. After what I had experienced with my sister, whom I still hadn't talked to, I was so scared for my little girl. Yes, in that moment she became truly mine. I knew this because I wasn't worried about myself. All my concern and worry was for her.
I thought they were going to keep me but I ended up being outpatient. I went home and told my family. Aside from my sister Tara, they all looked at me like I said the car needed washing.

Chapter Ten coming to terms with reality

March 24th, 2011
I refused to call Theresa. She called me that afternoon and acted completely shocked by my news. I then found out that the majority of the emails that made me so mad were actually sent by her boyfriend. I was still mad at her not being there for me but I am learning that with my sister, it comes with the territory. When you are in charge, the only one you can completely depend on is yourself. I will be starting radiation and chemo treatments in the next couple weeks and will give an update then. Not a lot has happened since that surgery and now, but a lot has happened inside me. My brother and I are doing ok. For the time being, the panic when he raises his voice or something is lessening, and I honestly can say I love him again. I remind him when he gets loud that he is scaring me and I can't deal with any more trouble, and he checks himself. I am trying to recognize that he is limited in what he can do for me, but he does help me with Lissie sometimes, and I think as I enter treatment, he will step up and be there for me. I am no longer afraid of him. I am in God's hands.
Theresa had a health scare Monday, She took too many pills we think. She blames it on seeing Lissie's dad and having a psychotic break or seizure or something. It is funny, I can accept that she is a total liar or telling the truth and I don't really care. I always forgive and forget but I no longer put my self out there to be hurt. She can do what she wants to do and I will do what I have to do. Trust once broken isn't easily mended on either accounts. I am learning to be strong. I love to drive and it makes me feel so free, independent, and brave. I still have my moments. Sometimes I feel so incredibly lonely and overburdened. Taking care of two mentally ill people and a disabled child can be very hard. Sometimes I enjoy it, like when I went shopping for new clothes for my dad and brother, or when Lissie says something that warms my heart. I am only human for wishing I could run away once in a while. I guess the true test of maturity, character, and responsibility is that I don't. I think Momma would be proud. Sometimes in weak moments I wish I could go to sleep and not wake up. I ask God to forgive me for such thoughts and realize when I am thinking like that, I probably am just tired and need a break. Things always look better after a good night's sleep.
I don't know the future when it comes to my life. My health is never good, but sometimes it is better than others. Lately I have been down in my back, my arthritis acts up now and then, and of course I always wonder if the cancer is somewhere else, but so far the cancer doesn't appear to have spread any further and all the tumor markers are very low, but I really don't think too much about dying beyond being so exhausted at times the rapture sounds mighty nice. I take each day as it comes.
There are days I feel like all I do is take care of people without anyone taking care of me but I remind myself that God is taking care of me. Maybe I can't always feel him, but I know I am in his hands. I also know that even if I am unappreciated, he sees and will reward his servants. I do sometimes feel like I am disappearing. Like all I am is a housekeeper and caregiver. I have SSI now so at least financially we are holding on. It is sad that I wasted so much time that I could have spent with Momma worrying about finances. Consider the lilies...I suppose one of these days God will teach me to not worry, cast my cares on him and trust he has it under control. It can be hard walking by faith and not by sight.
I still miss Momma, but not because I need her. I wish I could have figured all this out before she died. I guess it was one of those things I had to learn for myself.
The one thing I really need help on is as a result of isolation and whatnot, I can't open up to people. Whenever I do, I don't get anything back. I feel numb. I can't seem to feel love or anything. I guess my fear is if I do admit I need help, people will think me too needy and refuse which will hurt, or I will somehow lose my newly found strength and independence and revert to the co-dependent behaviors. I dream of a miracle and I will get that husband who loves me, and the kids and the whole 9 yards, but so much has to happen before that. I am healing right now in many ways. So for me, just getting through each day is a victory. But as I said before, I feel so cut off from normal society. I have trouble being close to people and feeling that connection. That is why I started this blog. Even if we never communicate in any other way. I like to know someone reads this, and cares enough to drop a word of encouragement, pray for me, and maybe hold my virtual hand through these trials I am facing.
At least I have recorded this journey I have taken, from girlhood to womanhood. It took a long time to grow up. I think adulthood is somewhat overrated. Youth is wasted on the young. Regret is one of the saddest words in the english dictionary. I can't go back, I must go forward, and I pray God will give me a break before the next big test of my life happens.
One thing is for sure, I am truly my mother's daughter. And for now, that is enough.