Daunted By Joy.

I must have read it somewhere in each and every piece on terminal cancer that I have pored over since her diagnosis…references to:

“The people you least expect to offer any kind of support to you during this chaotic time will surprise you while those you were certain you could depend on will be nowhere to be found…”

Since my mom’s admission to the ER and subsequently, the ICU and so on, I have been trying to ignore the nagging buzz in my inner ear surrounding my mom’s overall situation at home. I have been trying super hard NOT to judge my dad for letting her sink so low, without even noticing she had such a bad fever and was deathly ill until it was literally just an inarguable fact that she was in some serious trouble; and needed serious help. Like I wrote before, this had been the VERY FIRST DAY I left her alone all day – and look where she ended up before 8pm. Needless to say, I have some serious concerns about her well-being; given the fact that she was quite apparently not being cared for properly BEFORE her chemo dance with death to the tune of septic pneumonia; how can I expect that she will be adequately looked after NOW, being released from the hospital following a closely related (to the lack of care she received that day) near-death experience? Mom will be coming home with me for at least the next few days (I am both overwhelmed with joy and thoroughly daunted at the same time by this reality), through Christmas at least. I can’t bear the thought of sending her to her home and dropping her off to be overlooked and not taken care of during such a crucial time for her ongoing survival.

My dad has been such a dick throughout this whole thing…he has been shining my mom everyday – not showing up at the hospital to see her or never bringing her the stuff she asked for. Not answering his phone or calling back. Not showing up at the job that I’m totally winging in order to cover my mom’s standing commitments to her former clients to let bring me supplies or to help me meet a deadline. It’s been a fucking insane week for everyone, and apparently he has slept through most of. I understand that we all deal with grief differently, and he is probably really heartbroken and distraught. But the fact that he has allowed Boo back in full-time in my mom’s absence has things really fucked up between my parents again at present. And the creature I gave birth to, Boo, can’t just do the right thing, can she?

So, basically, my mom feels as if my dad has “chosen Boo over her” again…and he is just oblivious with his fucking head further up his ass every day, it seems…

I refuse to have any contact with my daughter; while my parents have allowed her to remain a constant presence in their home, despite her many violations against them in the face of their kindness. And now, this leaves us in quite the predicament, because I can’t go home with my mom to her house and take care of her when Boo is smoking meth in the next room. It’s fucking absurd, how my dad won’t open his fucking eyes and just kick my drug-addict hooker daughter the fuck out so that MY MOM CAN RECOVER FROM FUCKING PNEUMONIA IN HER OWN HOME. I am at a loss as to what to do about any of it…I just know I can’t possibly send my mom into that environment as it is now, and won’t even consider it. Gods damn it, she pulled through this recent crisis, and she should have a good Christmas without the worries associated with her living situation…it’s most likely her last one…how does my dad not give a fuck about that?

World’s Worst Things.

I’ve always meant to tell you,

that your irreplaceable feet,

always stood for the good,

against so very, many bad things,

like a cursed angel born to me,

my last-stood chance to be;

…the failing of my tattered wings…

It somehow always slips my mind,

so few words – from so far away,

so unable to remain very stable,

life is one, long, catastrophic earthquake,

oh, that I could reign you in and regain,

your love – your trust – and your admiration;

 –

…the weaving of my worst dreams…

 –

I see your ghost on the schoolyard,

that I watched you grow up on,

very vague; and you flicker and fade,

blinking static – ‘til you’re totally gone,

I watch one last time as your digits slip,

clutching at my out-stretched fingertips;

 –

…the repeating of the world’s worst things…

Big One-Eight.

lock_2_by_prophetharm-d7u8tmt

The day that lands on May thirteenth,

will be a very memorable one, indeed:

after all these years of waiting separately,

my little girl finally turns the ‘big eighteen’;

The anticipation that grinds behind her release,

is stuff that’s enough for the death of Yours Truly,

my heart pumps to keep up with the thumping beat,

but it’s barely enough to keep my blood flowing freely;

Her entire life, we’ve talked about its eventuality:

silly things she and I would do on this day, specifically:

create the biggest ruckus seen in recent local history,

roll around with the windows down in a rented limousine;

We’ve joked about obnoxious face paint we’d be wearing,

the gaudy jewelry that I brought to her from New Orleans,

spend hours doing nothing but her very favorite things,

truth is: I won’t even get to see her – and that’s our reality;

She will take her newly granted wish of finally being free,

and run with it as far and quickly in a direction away from me,

it might be years until I see her face again, if I’m so lucky,

her lack of any self-esteem or worth keeps her far, historically;

My little girl exists within a place that she can only be,

the pages of the Missing Persons reports, filed repeatedly,

the hours between the sunset and the next day’s dawning:

she’s in there somewhere trying to find any kind of meaning;

This day has long been a source of a most primal fear in me,

the burdens carried so long will either hold or break clean,

from the chains that have rusted around them quite solidly,

the very last of my chances to find the daughter that I seek.

“It Only Hurts When I Breathe”

Heart failure describes the inability or failure of the heart to adequately meet the needs of organs and tissues for oxygen and nutrients. This decrease in cardiac output, the amount of blood that the heart pumps, is not adequate to circulate the blood returning to the heart from the body and lungs, causing fluid (mainly water) to leak from capillary blood vessels. This leads to the symptoms that may include shortness of breath, weakness, and swelling.
Understanding blood flow in the heart and body
The right side of the heart pumps blood to the lungs while the left side pumps blood to the rest of the body. Blood from the body enters the right atrium though the vena cava. It then flows into the right ventricle where it is pumped to the lungs through the pulmonary artery. In the lungs, oxygen is loaded onto red blood cells and returns to the left atrium of the heart via the pulmonary artery. Blood then flows into the left ventricle where it is pumped to the organs and tissues of the body. Oxygen is downloaded from red blood cells while carbon dioxide, a waste product of metabolism, is added to be removed in the lungs. Blood then returns to the right atrium to start the cycle again.
Left heart failure occurs when the left ventricle cannot pump blood to the body and fluid backs up and leaks into the lungs causing shortness of breath. Right heart failure occurs when the right ventricle cannot adequately pump blood to the lungs. Blood and fluid may back up in the veins that deliver blood to the heart. This can cause fluid to leak into tissues and organs.
It is important to know that both sides of the heart may fail to function adequately at the same time and this is called biventricular heart failure. This often occurs since the most common cause of right heart failure is left heart failure.

Okay everyone…my heart is physiologically “failing” due to the reasons outlined above…

I actually spoke the line used for the title of this post to a nurse two days ago, which in hindsight is pretty fucking funny.

Soon.

bluejaws

Lately, I have contracted my way into a freelance bid that was accepted by a snooty committee; and now I have a job once again – for now, at least.

* Something so-called “productive”, to keep my troubled brain occupied and my body out of jail, or worse.

 Lately, everything I feel and experience is filtered out by a dulling effect that is new to me – my senses seem to have literally left me completely – and I function on a totally strange and detached level than any I’ve lived through in the past.

* I am anything but “present” these days, let me tell you.

 Lately, I was reminded of how very dangerous it is to open myself up to another person with the hopes of reciprocal GOOD at heart; I have been shown this lesson several times before and will likely see it again before I actually LEARN its value in the context of myself; but it’s a lesson that hurts like Hell each time, either way.

* One of these days, I will pack up my shit and move out to the sticks flying solo – then maybe I’ll finally get it.

 Lately, I have noticed that my friends are avoiding me again:

  1. the intense, fixed stare at the television whenever I walk into the room,
  2. the ear-buds permanently in each ear 24-7
  3. the unfailing, but “sudden” need to go to the bathroom whenever I show up to smoke a cigarette in the smoking pit

I can see the writing on the wall, and I don’t blame any of them I guess…I wouldn’t want to be in my company either.

* Just because I’m officially an emotionally resigned, spiritually bitter aging bitch doesn’t mean that all of my friends are riding that same wave; some of them actually have reason to celebrate things.


The last year has been the foggiest out of my entire life somehow, despite the many years I have under my belt from my youth spent under the influence of narcotics or the morphine drip I survived on later on during my “hospital era”; I can honestly say that I have been simply “going through the motions” of everyday with only the goal of the following night in mind.

* When I’m sleeping, I don’t have to cope with reality so much.

 

And that is just how I gotta survive right now; whether I like it or don’t.