So far, The Fates have gifted me with the following changes:
1: Mum's approaching day 3 of her ICU stay. I stated my case of wanting change in February. March she happened upon pneumonia, following a lovely April diagnosis of not-so-mild congestive heart failure and (probably 4 or 5+ years in the making). A rough estimate of about 10-15 days inpatient status on CVTU at McKay due to various procedures thru May and June. Early August birthed an attempt at a new pacemaker/new control method, which failed, because her heart is her personalities twin and does whatever the hell it damn well pleases. Which brings us to Now, the time and place for open heart surgery consisting of a valve repair, a valve replacement, new pacer, and finishing a BOTCHED procedure that a Greek demon didn't have the stamina to finish.
Thankfully, thruout the process, she's been given access to 4 new doctors. 2 cardiologists (one for EP, one for CHF) one pulmonoligist that specializes in sleep disorders for her OSA which is finally being treated, and now a cardiothoracic surgeon who has literally floated down from heaven and taken the place as the top tier of her multi-layer life cake. Friday, he pried open the white bony fingers that encircle her rebellious angsty teenage heart and gave it one of those "I'm doing this because I love you" firm talking to's and put it in it's place where it should have been all along.
Having said that, she is healing, her heart is obeying, but some residual neurological set backs from her stroke are pulling a thick veil over her face and I've not yet been able to figure out how to understand WHY that happened. It's driving me insane. Yeah, it's only been 60 some odd hours after serious trauma to her body, and a few hospital friendlies have so lovingly told me that "the healing process is rediculous" and "you're in for a long road" and "she's going to look awful" etc. etc. Pretty much Eeyore and Debbie Downer had some sex and their love child posessed these informants and left them with zero room for encouragement.
I get that it's a tough surgery.
I get that it's life threatening.
I GET that she'll look like a dirigible when she's laying in bed with 20 IV pumps and their tentacle-like feelers creeping into her veins.
Maybe just work on your delivery, how bout? Maybe not everything needs to be said?
I'm all for being prepared. I expect the worst out of every situation. EVERY.
Except this one. Literally the ONLY procedure she's had done (in the almost 25 years I've been able to get that awful constant writhing pain in the bottom of my gut) that I've felt completely at peace with.
I probably shouldn't be writing this right now because I'm tired, and like my tamagotchi, if I don't get enough sleep, I get sick in the head and a skull and crossbone occupies my pupils until I'm rested enough.
So on to change number
2: Scott told me he didn't want to go to church any more. And meant it.
I'm the type of person, that if I outwardly represent or advertise something (like my wonderful collection of Hello Kitty or Harry Potter apparel) I know what it's about. And I'm an advocate for it. And I live it. And love it. If I wear a shirt with a quote on it, I know who said it, why they said it, and what they meant.
It was a slap in the face to realize that though I say I'm Mormon, and try to live like a Mormon, I literally know pretty much nothing about it.
Sure I know about Joseph Smith, and random Bible and Book of Mormon stories here and there, and the general mission and purpose of The Church, but I've never immersed myself in it the way I did when I discovered David Bowie. Or when I discovered that Hello Kitty was being sold for 1/4 of the price that it was at 10 years ago. Or when JK Rowling gave 7 gifts to the world that I've read each more than three times.
The way I felt when I realized that I'd been using The Church in my life and trying to force it on those around me, was the way Joanna reacted when my mum would lock eyes with her and say
"SHAME"
(after Joanna had littered the bathroom floor with the contents of the waste basket)
in the most sincere and disappointed voice she could muster.
That poor dog would cower, and lower her head, and slink away to her pillow where she would lay and look back at my mum every so often until she either forgave her or forgot about it.
I've been such a coward with employing and literally living with the Church in my life. Politics is the only thing that I'm O.K. with picking and chosing different sides on different aspects. I've been vegetarian for about 6 or 7 years, and done more research on it and everything about it than I ever have about the Church. It's insanely easy to take advantage of something that you don't remember being introduced to. Something that you've always "known".
There are things here and there that I choose to obsess over, because uniqueness and undiscovered territory and the opportunity to Google something is a huge braingasm for me, and the more I can learn about random things, the more I can add to my collection that makes me ME.
Needless to say, I've been making a snail paced approach at reintroducing this into my life and daily mindset. I don't have to explain myself, I do it enough in my head.
On to my lucky number,
3: Scott took the MCAT, got a score that was above the national average last year, applied to 20 schools, got 16 or so responses requesting an additional application, and TWO NIGHTS AGO got a response back from the first one saying they want him to come interview.
The thought of living somewhere else a year from now totally excites and completely freaks me out. Ecstatic because a life where Scott and I just have each other to solely rely on would be so scary but so enticing. Horrified because the thought of not being able to walk 30 feet or drive 30 minutes to my parents house is paralyzing to the point of nausea.
BUT.I keep telling myself that our relationship is in it's infancy. My parents lived in North Carolina and Germany as newly-weds. Plus I don't like being comfortable enough to the point of being afraid of change, and that comfort has hardened around me and convinced me that things are good where they are.
So needless to say, I've looked up and researched each school's surrounding Universities that have a good english program for me to get in to, and what each city is like, etc. etc. You can't plan for something like that without having SOME kind of idea what to expect, right?
Alright well this is rediculously long, and I think I've proven my point that you shouldn't ask for something until you're ready for it.
Because it'll happen whether you're ready for it or not.
This is where Yoda would say make choices you must, or freaking Dora would sing her stupid song about knowing that we can do it, or that totally unrealistic kids book about the little engine that could pops in to your mind as you make your decision on whether or not to remain dormant, or keep pushing forward like everyone and everything else does.
Because really, you don't have any other choice.
Today is over.
Tomorrow is gone.
All I have is now.
Loves,
Syds.
1 comment:
i read it. i have several thoughts running through my head about your quest for the church. bottom line though, is you have to want it. in each of our own ways we come to a point in our life where we really really really have to commit to what we were raised with. Every single one of my siblings and i have done it and we all made different choices, or at least some have chosen not to choose, which is, in fact, still a choice.
All I can say is the Sunday School answers work. Read your scriptures, say your prayers, go to church. Even if it is by yourself, you can do it if you want it.
love
Nicole
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