Surgery

While Mom waits for an appointment with the surgeon, I can not even to begin to know what she must be feeling or going through. Her right breast will be cut away from her and she will loose her femininity, a part of her that defines who she is. She is scared, frightened, and worried.

On top of that, she was officially removed from the liver transplant list on Thursday. The doctors gently select their words and say that no one knows the life expectancy of someone in renal failure, but they believe it to be around two to five years. Those last four words are the only words that Mom hears. Her eyes start to water and she stares hard at the floor. Dad holds her shoulder and he rubs circles on her back. That is why I go to the doctor’s appointments, so I can hear all words that Mom does not.

The surgeon looks young. He is upbeat and positive. This is what we need. I feed off his energy and tell mom that we need to expect the best possible outcome. Not all me believes the words but my tears are convincing.

It is flattering to know that she values my opinion and wants me with her. I am grateful that the doctors welcome the three of us in the crowded examining room where normally they only permit one family member. Mom is an exception and they understand the circumstances of her case.

All my friends and family have instilled a faith and peace in me that I do not believe I would have other wise known. I know that this is where I am supposed to be.

Hip Shaking

Maybe it was the dancing that caused my knee pain. All that hip shaking involved in salsa dancing must have caused my hip to roll out, making my left leg shorter, adding an imbalance on my legs, thus the knee problem. The bud lights must have numbed the pain so I never noticed the hurt until I was riding my bike.

Mom always tells me that I am my happiest when I am dancing. I started dancing when I was five years old and never thought dancing on the weekends would continue past the high school dance team. These days there are no dance competitions just drinkin’, dancin’, and lots of fun.

Playing Chase

While sitting on my back porch, eating my dinner, the entertainment was watching Roxy chase birds. Every time I want the birds the win because I do not want another bird carcass and bird feathers in my kitchen. The birds taunt her by flying back and forth on the fence line, sometimes landing low enough for Roxy to attempt a running leap at them.

Playing chase is fun to watch and fun to participate in. Watching Roxy chase birds reminds me of when I play chase on my bike. There is a stretch of Evans Road that once you cross the tracks, everyone rides as hard as they can until we reach Nacogdoches Road. No one ever says, “Race you” or “Tag you’re it”, but it is an exhilarating feeling to start pedaling as fast as you can to chase the person in front of you.

There is a simple innocence in the chase that brings back memories of my childhood. Running around the neighborhood and looking for fireflies are some of my fondest memories. To know now that fireflies are dwindling in numbers makes me feel bad for smearing the glow in the dark gel over my cloths.

We chase successfully career. We chase love. We chase health and happiness. Isn’t that what life is about, the chase.

Not So Much

Harder than expected, the sadness wore on me. I want to be strong for Mom, but this week, not so much. It is like insanity hit me and I could not figure out why. Sleep deprived, exhausted, and pensive, I realized what was wrong.

One day at the doctor’s office, I asked my mom what she wanted to do. She could not think past the office and waiting for a call back from the doctor. What I meant was did she have a bucket list. Like I have my list and she is supportive in my efforts, I want to help her complete her list. She did not get it and I do not know how to bring it up again. It is a sensitive subject and I do not know how to approach it.

Luckily, it was easier than I thought. Her doctor told her to just live her life. Travel and do things that she normally does and go places she wants to go. We may even do another cruise sometime soon. I am more relieved to have gotten that conversation out of the way.

Tease

As my third week of physical therapy approaches, my bike sits on the trainer teasing me. It is torture. It screams at me when I pass, “Come take me out for a ride, push my pedals and get me out of this dark room!”

It has been two straight weeks of not riding. The easy push of a stationary bike is dull compared to the hard push of a commute. The screams from my bike tempt me. I avoid the living room to avoid the whispers and screams. Yes, I know I need to give my knee ample time to heal so I stay away.

To not dwell on it, I have started going to the public library. Checking out five books at a time, somehow reading three books at once, and listening to a book CD in my car, it keeps my mind busy. These days any distraction is a welcomed.