First Date

"Hi. I'm wondering if you would like to meet sometime for coffee or something like that."

Two days after the concert and beers at the Underground, Joe messaged me over Facebook. (And looking back just now, I realize that he messaged me on his birthday. Guts!) I switched him out for beer, and the only place I could think of that was relatively quiet and had a decent beer selection was Orchard Green, so that's what I suggested and that's where we went.

I don't remember a whole lot about it, there were less than five people in the entire bar area, including us. We sat at the bar and tried a few beers, and we both still remember the one that tasted too strongly of banana. The conversation flowed well, and it was less awkward than most first dates. He did talk about cars, even though his brother had advised him not to. He really couldn't help it. You have to talk about your hobbies when you're getting to know someone, and that's his big one. It would have been disingenous not to, or I would have had no idea what I was getting into.

Joe didn't blow me away, but he didn't try to kiss me, so I gave him another chance. My plans for the next Saturday was going to Wilson's Orchard and then to BWW for a UFC, so he chose to join me at Wilson's. He almost screwed up on that one: he started getting a little too confessional when he explained the meaning behind his tattoos. He did all right other than that, and he still didn't try to kiss me, so the next weekend I dragged him to FryFest and we made it into the Guinness Book of World Records. The World's Largest Hokey Pokey. That was the first time he rode on the back of my motorcycle, when I took him back to his car. We talked in the parking lot for a long while, and he still didn't try to kiss me, so that's when I started wondering if we were dating or not.

Grace to Accept the Things I Cannot Change

Eight years ago April, my mom asked me to come along with her to a doctor's appointment for some test results. Dad couldn't go, and the doctor recommended she have someone with her. I knew that was bad, but when she gave us the news that a routine CBC had detected leukemia, the same leukemia my grandpa had just passed away from, I thought I knew how bad it could get. I didn't know.

Saturday I was two days late, so I took a pregnancy test and it was negative. I was devastated. My tendancy to see the worst-case scenario surfaced, and I just poured out my grief: losing my baby, the possibility of losing my mom, the possiblity that I might never get to have kids, the possiblity that even if I do, they might never get to have the grandmother that Hayden has. My heart just HURTS.

Joe tried to comfort me, but he didn't understand. This was a revelation to me. Joe has road rage: he'll get (what I see as) irrationally upset about what other drivers do. If he has a bad commute home, he'll be in a funk for at least an hour after he gets home. This is incomprehensible to me: I just don't understand how he lets the behavior of other drivers affect him so much. I think this was a chance to let us be in the others' shoes. I let all these things I can't control affect me so terribly, and he can't see why I let myself get so upset over what might happen.

Not to say my grief is unwarranted, or that I don't need to work my way through it, but I understand a little better now. I need to find a better balance between honoring my grief and letting it overwhelm me.

Mom is doing no better, but not necessarily worse either, but not much progress might be considered worse. After coming home Thursday, she had to go back in Saturday night after higher temperature spikes. Her counts were down to ~400 from the ~1000 two days before, so the release was premature. The doctor thinks the steroids she was given artificially increased her progress, and she wasn't creating neutrophils (good white blood cells) on her own so once the steroids stopped, so did progress.

So she is still going through cycles of chills and high fevers, she is still exhausted and her shoulder is killing her. It's probably because of all the time in bed and the effect of the chills, but her muscles are all tight and knotted up. I've been going over on my lunch break to try to rub out some of the knots and the effects of lying down so much, but hopefully her friend Nancy the masseuse will be able to make it up there tonight to better effect. She said I was the third to ask if she would be willing and/or able to make the trip to the hospital to help. It's a sign of how bad it is that Mom was willing to ask for help. She was in tears from the pain when I visited on Tuesday, and seeing that, on top of everything else she's dealing with...it was too much.

I can tell how much weight she's lost in a very short amount of time. She has it to lose, but not this way: she just feels so frail. I remember feeling Grandpa lose his strength the very same way and it was devestating then. Mom is at least 10 years younger than Grandpa was when he was going through this, and somehow that makes it worse.

I don't even know how Dad is dealing with this.

Mom has been in the hospital since Friday. She had chemo last week after fighting fevers for a while, and they came back stronger than ever last Tuesday. She alternates periods of chills with temperature spikes with a little time to rest inbetween. Friday afternoon I left work early to see her, and she was in the throes of terrible shaking. After that episode passed, her temperature spiked to 106 and they had to ice pack her and give her steroids to try to bring the temperature back down so they could give her blood. Her non-leukemia white cell count was at zero, but they had to get the fevers under control first before they could give her blood.

They were able to bring it down enough Friday night to give her the blood and she had a normal temperature Saturday morning. She looked so much better, but last night had a set back with temps back up to 104. It's so hard seeing her suffer like this and know there's nothing you can do but pray. It's my mommy, you know?