Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Mud

This is what we are living with at our house. More mud than you can imagine. If you have not lived through mud season in Maine, than you just haven't lived. There is no getting around it, you just have to live with it. Washing animal feet, baby feet, girls feet and the floors. Always the floors. I wish I had a maid.

I really thought that I would post earlier than this but I have been so busy. When I get home from work I feel guilty if Dave is up waiting for me and all I want to do is hop on the computer. Also my moms been around a bunch and I don't want her to read what I write because I really don't want to hurt her feelings. She spends a lot of time telling me how sorry she is that all of this has happened. We all are but it doesn't change here and now. All we can do is move forward.

My mom had her first chemo a week ago this past Friday. She was fine Friday and Saturday during the day but by Saturday night the pain from the chemo had set in her legs and she was in great pain. (This only happens to a small percentage of people and my mom always seems to be part of it.) By Sunday she could only get to the bathroom and back. We had to double her morphine and she had to take more narcotics for break through pain. Monday was even worse and on top of that her arm just kept getting bigger. (From the lymphodema) This meant that we had to bring her everything she needed. Up and down the stairs we all trucked. We didn't dare to all leave the house and leave her alone in case something happened. So Dave and I took turns. It was very stressful. I'm not sure if you guys know this but I'm VERY sarcastic. It's how I deal. By Monday night I was so tired and when I got home from work it was 11 pm. Dave said my mom wanted me and I told him I should have pushed her down the stairs while I had a chance. Then I promptly started to cry, because let's face it. Who says that shit? Me, I do. All the time. Poor Dave, he started to laugh as he said, 'Melissa!" He knew that I didn't mean it like I want to push her down the stairs and kill her. It would just be quicker and less painful than suffering. Which she is doing.

Tuesday morning rolled around and when I brought my mom up some breakfast she complained about her arm and said she thought she felt better. I was relieved but I didn't look at her arm. I was excited. It was nice out and I was on a roll getting the kids started on school work and Dane coloring. When I went back downstairs Idid the dishes and had started folding laundry when my mom beeped me with the phone and told me she was going to the physical therapist to have her arm worked on because it hurt her. I said, "When?" and she said, "Now, I have to be there in an hour." She than said, "I will drive myself and hung up on me." Let me tell you I was livid!! She hasn't been downstairs since Saturday she could still barely walk. She thought she could drive herself. Also her skin was so gray. (A few weeks ago she didn't tell me she had an appointment and left the house without telling me and I had to figure out on a moments notice and get to where she was to drive her back because she should NOT be driving. Paula had to drive me to the hospital and drop me off and bring the kids home and stay with them.) I knew I'd have to call Paula and because our new Fairpoint Communications (who suck donkey dick) had accidentally disconnected her phone in January and everyday since then given her the run around, we have to either go to her house or take a cell phone to her. I had to shower and plan lunch for the kids. How bad can her frigging arm be? You guys have no idea how pissed I was. I just wanted to be home. I sent the kids running for Paula and cried as I finished folding laundry. When my mom came downstairs she looked bad. I really thought she was going to die soon, like that day. She was sooo gray. I thought she doesn't have 5 years, she doesn't have a month. She asked me to help her put her shirt on and that's when I almost pooped my pants. Her arm was the size of 4 very large men's. It was red and raw. She couldn't bend it and her hand was so swollen that her fingers looked like sausages right before they burst. I schooled my face to not show shock but I was shocked right to the tips of my toes.
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10 comments:

Philly said...

Taking their driving privledges away is hard. It's the first of many things that will eventually be taken, sad to say. Let us know about her arm. My dad's leg looked like that last week, still does actually. Working to get it down.

Oh, and go have a glass of wine, a much deserved glass of wine.

carsick said...

Thanks Philly. They actually ordered a special pump for her arm, it will be here next week. We don't know if insurance will pay for it but my mom doesn't care at this point. they make them for legs to. (It's kinda acts like a blood pressure pump only it covers the whole bdy part. Makes the fluid flow.
I am going to have wine. Thanks I'm going right now.

KimberlyDi said...

I'm worried about you.

I know 2 men who carry such guilt about their mother's who died of cancer. It was a long drawn out painful process for them to watch them die.

You will hear her in pain and you will wish that she would just get it over with.

It will happen because you are helpless in stopping her pain and you will become angry about that.

You need a therapist right now to ease you through this. If you can't afford one, we'll be your surrogate therapist. :)

Cancer sucks. You are a good daughter even if you have less than perfect moments. {{{{{{Big Hugs}}}}}

carsick said...

Hey thanks Kim!
You guys can be my therapy! Sure beats spending big bucks!
Did I use the correct from of beats? It not a food (beets) It just doesn't look right...

Auds at Barking Mad said...

Oh sweetie. I am so sorry you are going through this. Is there ANYTHING I can do? I'm not that far away and wouldn't mind the drive. Please don't hesitate to let me know. Seriously. Even if it's just an extra ear to scream into.

Oh and mud season...I'm trying NOT to complain because that's pretty much ALL I did over the winter during grit and salt season, but I'm just tired of the mud already. Give me a few months and I'll be complaining about the humidity. Yep, that's Maine for ya!

*hugs*

Philly said...

Here's a thought.....Alcohol is cheaper than therapy.

#1

sista #2 said...

When your page was first loading, I thought the goolashes(nan use to call them that) you were wearing was a penis. True story.

Alcohol is way cheaper than therapy.

Life just sucks sometimes, dont it?

peace
#2

carsick said...

That would be one heck of a penis!
It's nice to know others have my gutter mind. Booze is cheaper.....
Gonna go get me some right now. Though last night I poured a glass of wine and forgot about it. Now that's a shame.

FishermansDaughter said...

Mud season here too, I call it "boot suck season" so deep in the paddocks that it literally sucks knee high boots right off...still...a foot step in wet mud is NOTHING compared to what's going on with you...you're right, nothing to be done except slog through. Good news - the medicinal effects of wine are not dimished at room temperature! :)

Mama Goose said...

I know how you must be feeling and I wish there was something I could do or say to help... Sending big hugs your way.