I feel like I've been away forever. There was nothing to write about, and there was almost too much. I've been busy catching up at work for all the time I wasn't there last week when I was helping the kids move, but that's almost been my safe haven. Work is where I don't have to think, and life is easy.
My dad phoned the other day that he'd been to the oncologist, and he'll be starting chemotherapy this Thursday, with new infusions every 3 weeks. I shouldn't be surprised, but he's been living with prostate cancer for about 20 years. Your start to ignore the ugly beast after that long. (Well, I'm sure HE didn't ignore it, but the rest of us got pretty complacent.) He's 82 and has always been in great health - well, except for the cancer. He's tall and exercised, and rarely gets so much as a sniffle. He laughs at headaches. To compensate, it seems life has handed him the double whammy complete with nasty medicine. Now he'll know what it feels like to be sick, I'm sure.
He and Mom were going to go it on their own, and I spouted the obligatory "Well, call me if you want me to help." You know how it is - you WANT to help, but you don't know quite what to do, and heaven forbid you should be in the way or seem pushy. But afterwards I was talking to my daughter and she mentioned a quote she had heard recently that the very definition of a friend was someone who didn't wait to be asked to help - you just dig in and start helping. So I rethought what I should do, and thought that it would be better for them if I went with them. NONE of us knows what to expect - whether he'll feel nothing for awhile, whether he'll be sick right away, etc. And my mother is a tiny little thing - too small to handle things if he's not feeling well. Plus she can't see where she's going, so she can't drive. No - better to be safe than sorry, so I called my dad this morning and told him I would come down and go with them.
To my surprise, he didn't argue at all. No fuss. No objections. That's how I know he's scared. We're all scared, but I do better when I take action, so I'll go with them. It takes the mystery and the boogie man out of it for me. I can picture what it's all about, and then it's not so scary. I'll load up the Kindle with a book or two and sit and wait. And maybe pray.
In addition to all of this, my aunt took a big spill. She was on a walk, and missed the step up to the curb. She totally face planted, and she has an impressive pair of black eyes, and cuts and abrasions. Thank goodness she didn't break anything, and she didn't knock her teeth out. Of course it all took a toll on her mentally, and there was a little bit of touch and go the last week or so with her remembering to take her medications and encouraging her to eat. Oh yes, the nurse practitioner and I are practically besties. It seems like she's rounded the corner, though, and will be healed up soon enough. I've got to figure out a way to get her to slow down and act her age, or she's going to kill herself.
L's shoulder surgery went well, and he's back to work, but it's still sore. We have our friend Mike, the physical therapist, making a house call tonight to get that stiffness worked out. And then, if we're lucky, we can go on a moonlight bike ride. Last night the moon was almost full. The air was cool, and it was so peaceful, just the two of us and our little blinking lights.
Let's see, I'm trying to remember all of the sweet bits to tell you. Mia has been picking up her room and keeping it spotless. Not an easy task when she has Hayden following behind and making a mess again. Now she knows how Mommy feels. But she's got a her eyes on the prize: a new bike. You may remember that her old one was lost in the move to Massachusetts. Mom and Dad told her that things like bikes need to be earned, and so she's become quite the cleaning nazi in her zeal to earn that precious bike. She asked her mom the other day to take her picture so she could send it to Mema - so Mema would see what a good girl looks like (her words). And this is what I got:
If that's not a good girl, I don't know what is. L is so proud of her hard work that he's already purchased the bike and had it sent for whenever they feel she's ready to have it. Life is exciting when you're 6. Our other 6 year old, Lexi, starts school (FIRST GRADE!) in a couple of weeks. When you talk to these little girls, there is nothing that is beyond their range. Life is just one big bundle of exciting choices. Their little noggins are so full of bright intelligence that I'm already looking around for the amazing events they will no doubt bring about.
That's what keeps us oldie oldsters engaged and moving forward - that enthusiasm for life and all of it's curiosities. That's something my dad has always had. He loves to learn, and he has boundless curiosity. And when he eats a cupcake, he still licks all the frosting off the cupcake paper, enjoying every little bit. He's a funny mix: brilliant intelligence that can be blinding in it's quickness, and then there's that childlike enthusiasm for life's little pleasures - from sweet treats to good books - that through all of his almost 82 years he's never lost. I can picture him sitting in chemotherapy sessions quizzing the nurses and finding out all about it. I am like him in that respect, because to me, knowledge is power. When you arm yourself with it, and look for the goodies along the way, you can take on anything.