Because what's the point of worrying (said my medication)

If ever I've recognized that my antidepressant medication is working it is the last four months.

Dad had his open heart surgery in February and while I was concerned, I felt like things would work out ok.
I felt this way even when Mom called me back to the hospital because they took Dad back into surgery to ensure he wasn't bleeding.
They were being precautious, not necessarily indicating that something was definitely wrong.
It was better to do this before his breathing tube had been removed.

If ever I've realized my meds work is when Mom told me a few weeks ago that her biopsy came back showing breast cancer.
Unlike the first time, 22 years ago, I didn't go into shock.
I didn't put a hold on my life and plans (which is what I did when D and I were engaged).
At that time, I stopped wedding planning.
I stopped talking about the wedding.
I had to compartmentalize my life because there was no going forward until I knew what was up with Mom.

My ability to just keep swimming probably has a lot to do with being a parent now, too.
(Although I think the medication is the bigger part of it.)
Life just doesn't stop for me because I have three other people whose lives don't just stop.
Since I am the coordinator of and driver for those three lives, I don't get to hole up and die.

Our family has one more major surgery coming in June--my nephew has pectus excavatum and will undergo surgery, a hospital stay, and a pretty significant recovery period.

I am hoping that this completes the cycle of "Stressful/Bad Things Come in Threes."

During all this stuff with my parents, I have been pretty open on social media as a way to keep our family and their friends informed.

These postings present me with a mixed bag of feelings primarily because, thus far, I've had good news to report.
While I know people want to know, and it is easier for me to communicate via social media, I feel a bit of "survivor's guilt."
Dad came through surgery well and has done a bang-up job in recovery.
Mom's node is benign so we expect her treatment beyond surgery should be minimal. (Possibly even just medication.)

Posting something socially as a way to keep folks informed makes me think about the people I know who have had to report unpleasant, scary, and downright sad things about their family members.
I know my thoughts of them are cold comfort.
I don't feel pity, but I wish they hadn't gone through pain.
Of course, we all go through pain.
It is the timing and the specifics of that pain that differs from person to person.

I don't and won't say things like "Praise God" or anything of the sort in relation to my mom's or dad's surgeries.
Or my nephew's.
I have asked people at church to keep them on the prayer list (because I do believe, if nothing else, prayer allows for a sense of community and a show of support).
I'm also "out-there" enough to believe that the energy of combined prayer can have mystical effects.

However, social media easy communication makes me think overthink about what I write when I post.

For example, I have always, always felt horribly uncomfortable with the notion of praising God when news is good.
I don't do it.
I feel uncomfortable when I see other people do it.

Because if I heap the praise on God when all goes well, what do I do when news is bad?
Praise God that this whole mess sucks ass?
Because if we're honest, I'm not loving having both parents deal with such MAJOR stuff within 3 months.

How do I praise God that my dad survived open heart surgery when someone else's dad doesn't?
That my mom's cancer hasn't metastasized when someone else's mother's cancer has?

(I realize faith and logic are not the same things.)
(But I am a logical person, so faith does not come easily for me.)
(I'm not even sure where the idea of fairness is supposed to come into this dilemma.)

Which goes back to my medication, which has allowed my anxious mind to quiet, to find peace.
And that wasn't nebulous floating God from the heavens sending a nebulous floating cloud of don't worry down to me.
That was God in the form of other human beings helping me.
Because praying to nebulous floating God didn't work for me, even though I tried and tried to make it work that way.
For years.
If I believe that each person is uniquely different, then I believe that God reaches us in uniquely different ways, with uniquely different methods and timeframes.
Your way is not my way.
My way is not your way.
Each of our ways is right.for.us.

I just now found this quote from comedian Peter Holmes who used to be an evangelical, and I find this resonates with me. I don't think God is Santa Claus or a Fairy Godmother. He's not going to grant my wishes.

I see God is as awareness. And it's something that we're not equal to, but that we're participating with. And the best chance we have at experiencing it and feeling it is not just having an ecstatic experience. It's finding your dignified, inherent place in its flow, through using myth, metaphor, ritual, chanting, meditation.. We're trying to wake up not just to a new set of beliefs, but to our place in the river. And there's all this resistance. And that's all ego stuff. And there's all these, all these, like, you know, headaches and whatever. And when we're quiet, and when we quiet that stuff down, and we can feel and identify with our piece of "divine awareness" then that's when you'll kind of find your flow.

Getting in touch with my inner quitter

I do not consider myself a quitter.
Rather, if there is a problem, I seek help to get it fixed.

When D and I were arguing, I sought out a counselor.
When G was having issues, we sought out a therapist...and an occupational therapist...and a psychiatrist.
When I have a toothache, I see my dentist.
When the pipes go haywire, I seek a plumber.

Many, many problems can be fixed.

But there is no fix for a book you simply can.not.get.all.the.way.through.

Now I've met many books I've been meh about.
Some of them I've had to read for school, and some of them I've read because the people in my book club picked them, and some I've read because I feel like I should be denied my English degree by rights if I haven't read them.
(I'm looking at you, Moby Dick.)

Out of the hundreds of books I've read, there has only been a handful that I stopped mid-way because I just could go no further.
And when I say a handful, I mean two.
(Or at least these are the only two I remember giving up on.)

Ulysses by James Joyce was one.
(Didn't finish that one at age 19).
Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy is the second.
(Refusing to finish that one at age 45).

These books have similarities.
Ulysses is stream-of-consciousness, which means lacking those things (grammar/spacing/punctuation/etc) that make words readable and comprehensible.
Blood Meridian does have formatting, but it is a collective of run-on sentences.
Many, many densely packed run-on sentences.

Both of these books makes my head hurt in the same way that reading middle schoolers' short stories makes my head hurt.

I don't like feeling like a quitter, but the older I get, the less time I have to waste on books that make me cuss.

Drum roll, please. (The Stitch Fix delivery)

I wrote that I was going to try Stitch Fix because I dislike shopping and generally don't know what looks good, not only on me but in general.

Yesterday, I got my first delivery in the mail.

I am keeping all 5 pieces.
They come out to be $34 per piece, and considering I'll likely wear them for the rest of my life (because I do this if something feels comfortable), I think that is a bargain.

I was very specific in my notes about textures (G isn't the only one in the family with texture sensitivities) and what I would be doing in the clothes (substitute teaching so I need them to be moveable).

The pants feel wonderful. I had requested ankle-length (since I already have a pair of boot-cut pants that I really like). One pair of pants is black; the other is navy with a small pattern to it.

Now, because I tend to be a minimalist, and cheap, at heart, Stitch Fix isn't something I'm going to use all the time. Maybe every six months.
But I did like that it allowed me to avoid something I dislike doing (shopping) and was, ultimately, a time saver.
(Not having to go from store to store in search of something saves my gas and time.)

If there is a downside to this experiment, it is taking pictures of myself and realizing that I am getting that middle-age look about my body.

Plans for today: the gym
Also, locate Fountain of Youth.

Seeking the 3rd second opinion

M has had a hole in his eardrum since he was four years old.

Last year, he had two tympanoplasties to try to fix the hole.
Both failed.

The definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing and expecting a different result, so we've been seeking second opinions to see if there are other surgeries or techniques.

The first doctor we saw more or less scared the shit out of me.
When I asked what might be the reason for both surgeries failing and whether this is unusual, he said, "Oh, some people have that surgery done 20 or 30 times."

It was at this point that my brain.stopped.functioning.

I asked this doctor if we needed to do surgery or could monitor.
He said, "I wouldn't wait until August."
I then proceeded to tell him that we had a vacation planned and wouldn't be able to do the surgery until mid-July.
He said that was fine.

The surgery he recommended involves going through bone (tympanomastoidectomy).

I'm not sure why the two weeks between mid-July and August (which is too late according to him) make any difference at all.
But my brain wasn't functioning well by this point of the conversation, so I didn't ask.

When I told him we were going to seek other opinions out of state, he said, "Oh, I can do the same thing they can. You don't need to go to them."

I didn't tell him that my hope was that they wouldn't scare the bejeezus out of me.

We saw our 2nd-second opinion doctor who told us M doesn't even have to have surgery right now. I liked him, and the surgery he recommended was less invasive than the one the 1st-second opinion doctor advised (medial tympanoplasty).

Today, I took M to the children's hospital out of state to see the 3rd 2nd-opinion surgeon.

This doctor recommended working through the ear canal using pig tissue for the patch rather than M's tissue (so the least invasive of the surgeries).

But he said we don't have to do anything now. AND he said sometimes the body tells you what it needs if we listen.

M is, at this moment, congested due to allergies. He is on allergy shots. Maybe his body needs that hole for ventilation.

Even though I was on the road four hours today, I felt like I had someone break the tie between the two other opinions and bring me a little more comfort that we're doing what is best for M and his ear.