Trying to stay sane

I guess I should start off with the icky stuff because that's the kind of person I am. Give me the bad news first. My dad met with the oncologist yesterday. Surgery is not an option. She also does not think that they will be able to treat the new lesions. But there is a chance that they can -- more gamma knife. She suggested rehab -- to deal with the speech and walking problems -- and hospice care. Needless to say, my dad is freaked out. Thankfully I clicked over to his call from talking to Mommy Zombie and she had explained to me that hospice does not necessarily mean terminal. So I was able to share that with my dad. It helped a lot. Thank you so much.

I also did a great deal of insisting. I have two weeks of vacation and have not put in for any time as of yet this year. Yesterday when I arrived at work, I promptly went in to see my boss to explain what was going on and how I would probably need some time off in the future. Then the plan developed. I could work a half day on Friday and then head to Sacramento. So last night I told my dad, "I have time available. Would it help you if I came up Friday afternoon?" He said that it would. So now I just have to let them know at work today.

And now to the other stuff. After crying and napping on Monday, I realized that there wasn't much cooked food around here. And Poulet was closed for the holiday. So I headed out for the nearby grocery store (Berkeley Bowl was also closed for the holiday.) -- the major chain, not the expensive local one. Although I should have stopped at the local one because I need more wet food for the other residents here. After VD, I found that I was totally addicted to the sauce for the mussel appetizer. I found myself thinking, "Who needs the mussels? I just want more of that sauce." And then I thought that if I tweaked it some, it would be perfectly fine on chicken. Of course, next time I probably shouldn't cook the chicken so long as it was almost falling apart when I removed it from the pan.


The end result.

Both winter and being in a down mood can bring out the fatty food cravings. Thankfully I am genetically predisposed toward thinness. Because the foods that call to me? So not good. Oh, and I even have a recipe this time.

Saffron Cream Sauce

1/2 cup creme fraiche
4 egg yolks
2 tablespoons butter
2 large shallots, chopped
1 cup brown mushrooms, quartered
2 tablespoons brandy
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 generous pinch of saffron
White wine from braised chicken (The chicken was braised in about 1-1/2 cups of white wine. This would be the liquid that was left.)

Whip creme fraiche and egg yolks in a bowl.

Melt butter in a skillet over medium heat and saute shallots and onions for approximately 3 minutes. Turn off heat and add brandy. Ignite and let flames burn down.

Whisk lemon and saffron into mixture in skillet. Add white wine "stock." Let simmer for 3-5 minutes.

Slowly add some of the shallot mixture to the creme fraiche mixture and whisk. Pour this mixture back into the skillet and whisk. Cook for an additional 3 minutes.

And because I'm all about comfort foods at this point, of course I had to pick up dessert on Monday.


Nothing says happiness like Pepperidge Farm cookies with Ben & Jerry ice cream.

And just when you thought that the feel good stuff was over, I bring you this. Thanks to the lovely folks at SFist, I discovered this little gem. It might just take the place of Pearl as my fave video.

Slacker of sorts

First of all, I would like to thank all of you for your comments yesterday. I know that I usually respond to each comment but I just don't have the energy. That's why I debated about even posting. And then I thought about closing comments but realized that folks would send emails anyway and then I would definitely feel like I had to respond. So thanks.

Where to start? I didn't go to Sacramento yesterday. While I completed yesterday's post, I sobbed. And then I called my aunt in Savannah (That's way too long to type repeatedly. She really needs a name.) and started to feel better. Then I called my dad's younger sister -- the one with cancer who lives in Oakland. She was talking to one of my uncles in Montgomery. She said that she would call me back and then asked if I was OK. My answer was, "Yes, I..." That's when I was suddenly wracked by another sob. I had mistakenly thought that they were done. She told me to stay on the line while she finished her conversation with her brother. In those moments, I knew that there was no way that I was driving to Sacramento alone. When she returned, she agreed. At least, she was not treated to the same level of sobbing that the other aunt had received.

And then I called my "real mom." She told me that she would call me when "dad" came home from his doctor's appointment. When she called around 1:00 pm, I told her that I had already figured that they weren't going to Sacramento.

So what did I do with my day? There were hours of intermittent sobbing which finally subsided sometime between 10 and 11. And then I felt completely drained. Boris suggested a nap. For once, I did not argue with him.

I finally worked up the nerve to call my dad around 2. He was still at the hospital and said that he would call me back. Here's the lowdown. His in-laws? Good thing I wasn't there. My dad said that he wanted to curse them out but he restrained himself. I don't have to. They already think I'm a bitch anyway. And right now I have half a mind to walk to Sacramento just so I can bitchslap a few of them.

My dad had to tell his brother-in-law to take my stepmother's mother home. Why? Because she was all hysterical in the hospital. Not that I'd expect anything different from her.

When the brother-in-law returned, he and his other sister told my dad that they would take over my stepmother's finances to help out. Huh? (This would be the point at which the bitchslapping would ensue. Friggin' ass vultures.) My dad calmly told them that as her husband, he would handle these things.

Then various friends stopped by, some of whom I know my dad can't stand. They wanted everyone to hold hands and to pray. My stepmother found this all perplexing. My dad told them that they were welcome to pray at home but praying in my stepmother's room just added to her confusion.

Onto the medical stuff. The MRI and the x-rays showed that there are now two new lesions on the left side of her brain. She periodically loses control of the right side of her body. Apparently late Sunday night she tried to go to the bathroom and fell. They know this because of the bruises -- and a little questioning. Now she's in a room closer to the nurses' station. A caseworker has been assigned. She gave my dad a list of home care providers as my stepmother will need 24 hour care. My dad has decided to use this in conjunction with his sister's help. (My dad's older sister has volunteered to come out from Georgia to help. She is well-versed in this as she was the primary caretaker for her husband as well as my grandmother for a number of years. I reassured my dad that this was OK with her.) My dad figures that his in-laws might not be happy with this but screw them. For right now my stepmother is on steroids to reduce the swelling. Today the oncologist and the neurosurgeon will come in to give their reports.

And then there's my mom. When I spoke to her earlier, she said that she had decided that I could only be so upset because of my thoughts of my father's state currently. It all gets back to the fight that I had with my mom a little over ten years ago, shortly after she was in the process of moving to Mexico. She said that she was afraid that my stepmother was replacing her (my mom) in my life. I told her then that this would never happen. It doesn't mean that once we got past our differences, that I did not start to care for my stepmother though. My stepmother may have all kinds of insecurities and she may not be the brightest in the bunch, but my dad loves her. And she has loved and supported him over the last twenty-two years during which they were married. Add in when they started dating and she's been around for thirty-two years. Not solidly for those first ten years but still. How could I not care for someone who has been in my life for that long? That would mean that I am one cold-hearted bitch. And I like to think that I'm really not. I so wish the bitch (my mother) would go to therapy. She likes to call out my stepmother's insecurities but I think my mother has just as many. It gets tiring to be trapped in the middle - and I tired of being in this spot years ago.

So now I'm just the chick with the dried-up tears on her face. Just trying to survive through life and hoping that no one pisses me off too much.

But pissing off? I'm warming up my hands for the ultimate bitchslap. My dad's in-laws also tried to make my dad feel guilty over some of the choices he has made recently concerning his wife. I told him that the last time I checked he was her husband and therefore her next of kin.

So with all the bitchassness going on in the place, my dad felt the need to escape. And that's why I'm kind of glad that I didn't go. My dad found the number of folks who showed up yesterday to be overwhelming. Of course, this is because he wanted to curse most of them out. Then again, maybe I should have been there. Because I would have cursed them out. Half of them don't like me anyway so I could really give a fuck.

And today I am going to work and going to try my best to hold it all together.

Countdown?

This time of year is kind of hard for my dad and my stepmother. Thursday was the anniversary of my stepbrother's death. Friday was their wedding anniversary. As a result, my dad usually tries to make sure that they are out of town for their anniversary.

This year my father had planned a week in Solvang but then he started to think that it was a little too far away given my stepmother's health. So instead, he made plans for a weekend in the Carmel area.

I talked to him Saturday morning when he returned my call. (I had left a message on Friday wishing them a happy anniversary.) They had had a lovely dinner and my stepmother's spirits were good. There were just a few problems. The first was that he had almost turned around on the road because he thought that my stepmother was having a stroke. But then everything seemed OK so he continued on. By the time I spoke to him on Saturday, she had fallen a few times. Her speech also seemed a little off. I got off the phone and started to cry. Just a little because I was driving at the time. And I tried to call a few people but no one was available. It is a holiday weekend after all. And so I sucked it up like I have gotten used to.

Then my dad called Sunday evening. He ended up calling the doctor because my stepmother kept falling. They had a room ready for her at the hospital by the time they returned to Sacramento. My dad asked if the doctors thought it was a stroke. The doctors think that it is the cancer in her brain -- either the existing tumors have grown or there are new tumors. They did an MRI and x-rays. I believe that my dad said that they would have results today.

It doesn't matter. I'm heading up for the day. My dad is losing it. He couldn't even remember Sunday night if he had already spoken to me during the day. This morning I realized that this is what has probably been the most upsetting to me -- the thought that through this process that I could end up losing my dad as well. He is diabetic and has had a heart attack in the past. He is also not necessarily known for taking care of himself, especially during times of stress. I was relieved to learn last night that he had called his best friend, my "real dad," though. (I found this out when I talked to "mom" last night.) He's definitely going to need other people to make it through this.

And hopefully I'll have all the tears out by the time I get there because if I can't hold it together, then I may as well have stayed at home. But I'm a little more hopeful about that since I had the chance to talk to my aunt in Savannah this morning. She's the only one of my relatives whom I can call sobbing and not have to hear, "You have to stop crying because you need to be strong right now." Instead she lets me cry it out and by the time we hang up, I'm usually smiling once more. And I'm going to call my "real parents" since they said that they might be heading up today because I'd rather not do the drive alone. Besides I need a little more time before trying to head out from here since I just realized that I still have some tears left.

In preparation

Yep. Another topic I have been shying away from. But after reading Heather B.'s post, I knew I had to say it.

Over the last seven years, it seems like there has been this endless cycle of illness and death in my family. Yes, I know that this is what happens as we age. But some of these folks weren't that old. It got to the point in 2002 when I thought that I didn't have any tears left in me. But I was wrong.

Of course, watching my grandmother slowly deteriorate over ten years helped to prepare me for this past year. It also taught me a lot about the differences between myself and my parents. Me? If I hear that someone has a serious illness, then I start to prepare myself for the worst. In my mind, I feel like if I don't think about the worst case scenario and then it happens, the feeling will be like having the rug pulled out from under my feet. In an emotional sense. It comes from remembering the dark times of my teens and 20s and not wanting to ever go back to that place again. Because that's what it felt like back then -- the whole rug thing. My dad always believes that there is something that can be done. Even when all signs say otherwise. My mother is somewhere between us on the spectrum.

January will mark the one year since my stepmother was diagnosed with cancer. I had been telling my father since this summer that he needed to hire someone to be with her in the daytime. He did not do this until this past month. This would be after he went of town for a long weekend. One of her friend's stayed with her. The friend came to the same conclusion after that weekend. Because my stepmother fell four times because she can't see steps and all. And she washed clothes ten times because she had forgotten that she had washed them already.

I went to see them the Saturday after Thanksgiving. My stepmother answered the door and thought that I was her sister. Anyone who has ever seen her sister knows that about the only thing we have in common is our height. Well, and maybe our attitude. I knew from previous visits that my stepmother could not hear well; she's lost 40% of her hearing over the last few months. But this trip I could see the evidence of how much worse her vision had become since the summer as well as her memory issues.

According to her last tests, the two remaining tumors in her brain have shrunk some more. (There were originally five. The doctors have told us that these two will never go away completely though because they were so large.) Today she goes in for more chemo. And then there's one more treatment in this round. But there will probably be more chemo. Because the cancer seems to be growing in her liver. I'm not sure about the status of her lung. Yes, it's in all three places.

And so I have been preparing myself for her death as of late. There was a time in the spring when I was more hopeful. But not now. Because my stepmother is not a fighter in the same way that my aunt is. And things just aren't looking good. And I have to be prepared because my father isn't going to be. Maybe a little part of him is but he keeps that part hidden.

Because I remember my grandmother's funeral. The second time in my life that I can really remember my father crying. (The first was when he discussed the whole divorce thing with me when I was about 12 or so. I often forget that because the conversation was supposed to be about how I was feeling and instead became about all the pain he was in.) And then a year later I saw his tears again at his youngest brother's funeral. And I remember how he wouldn't really talk to anyone about how he was feeling until I asked the right questions.

I know that this is part of the reason why I am no longer in the classroom now. Teaching took a lot out of me emotionally. And with all the stuff that has been going on with my family, I haven't had much extra. Because that's always been my role in the family -- the one who can listen. Even though when some of them are pissed off with me, they will say that I'm not that good a listener. But when they're in pain? They tell me the stuff that they won't say to other people. It's also why I don't really like being around family on holidays. Because while they smile and make nice to each other, I know what they really think about one another. Some days it's hard being the keeper of secrets. And so sometimes I go to therapy just so that I can let the secrets out. Before they eat away at me too much. And so now I'm also in preparation for Christmas with the family.