Here is where I am not sure how Dave has not torn every out of his hair over trying to understand me. I need forward motion, as I have said previously; but I hate "the unquantifiable." The unknown. I know, how very Gemini of me. It's like waiting for the other shoe to drop; this bad thing has happened, so....wait for it...another terrible thing is due to happen any minute now. It can get so bad that it can actually bring on a reactive hypoglycemia episode. Sometimes I can positive talk my way out of it, but it is getting harder and harder to do.
Well, this week is kind of the perfect storm of craptacularness (poetic licence, sue me) Not only has Dave decided not to go back to his old place of work and just wait to show up to locked doors one day, and is bringing in far less moola with the temp jobs here and there, this is the week my Dad goes in for surgery to have part of his lung removed. He has had different types of cancer, and emphysema over the years, and I was very matter of fact about them. Kind of, give me he facts so I can process them, tell me what you need me to do, or want from me, and I will do it, but there is no use worrying about it. And, you know, I really wasn't worried. It's like I could sense he would come out of it OK. This time is different. This time I have dread, This time, I actually started writing my Dad's Eulogy, and am thinking if I have appropriate clothes to wear to a funeral. THrough his emphysema, his prostate cancer, his bladder cancer, his tumour removal, I have never done this. Why is this time different? Is it different because I know he is frail, and not a fighter, and 77 years old? Or do I feel this way because the other mitigating factors in my life have robbed me of some of my coping skills? Is it instinct, or pressure? And how will I react when the shit hits the fan? And add to that, what am I going to do with my two youngest if everything does go wrong? It's not like I can just get a teen from down the street to watch them for what will turn out to be ENTIRE days while all the preparations and ceremonies are done. The certainly can't go with us, they will only be overwhelmed at best, devastated at worst.
See, I get going on a train of thought like this, winding myself up, thinking, if I am prepared enough, I can handle it, I can, I can handle it. And I just end up in a mind whirl, shaking, stomach in knots, I am my own worst enemy really. In my logical mind, I know this is borrowing worry to the nth degree, which I make a conscious effort not to do, but I can't help feeling that if I am NOT as prepared as I need to be, that I will crash spectacularly when things go bad, if my Dad dies. I am the one that talks to the doctors, I am the one that stands up to them if need be, I am the one that doesn't fall apart when others do. I am the one they rely on. I NEED to be ready, for whatever happens. And yet, I really don't know how I am going to react. I haven't had a parent die before. I have had grandparents die, which was incredibly hard, but this is my Dad. What if I can't pull this off? What if I am NOT the strong one? What is going to happen when those that rely on me, can't? THIS is the SHIT that keeps me up at night.
(BREATHE)
So, I am a little on edge, a little snappy, a little melancholy, and very unsure. Can someone please tell me, is it my time to cry yet?