
I’ve had a busy week. Many of you know that my mom is in the hospital, and that’s been emotionally draining, to say the least. Back in August (the weekend of Podcamp, actually) my family went to Myrtle Beach for vacation. I had a gig that weekend, Podcamp, and I couldn’t get away from work for that long, so I stayed here in the Burgh. While away, my mom had a heart attack and needed to have emergency surgery where they put 3 stents in her arteries. It was trying, espescially since I was here and they were there, but she seemed to be taking to recovery pretty well. March rolled around and she was experiencing pain and a great deal of difficulty doing things she should be able to do–like walking around the track at work and climbing stairs. She went in to the doctor for more tests this week and after doing yet another catheterization, they determined that my 53 year old mother needed to have bypass surgery.
She’s 53. That seems excessively young to me, but then she’s my mom. The stents are closing, and they’re “chewing up her arteries.” What that means, I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound at all good. They couldn’t fix the problem with angeoplasty, so they have to do the bypass. As it stands, she’ll be going in at 6 am monday morning for a triple bypass, and according to the doctors, if necessary, a quadruple bypass.
Needless to say, this is all taking quite a toll on me. I’m a fixer. I fix problems. I figure out how to do things efficiently and in the best, most logial way. Usually, I feel the need to fix things myself for fear of someone else doing it incorrectly. That’s just my nature. Maybe it’s a maternal instinct kicking in, or maybe it’s just my perfectionism rearing its ugly head. I don’t know ( IDK! IDK! ). When I can’t fix things, I feel broken and overwhelmingly stressed. I feel helpless, and that’s not exactly something I’m accustomed to feeling. I can’t fix this and it’s killing me, both emotionally and physically. My TMJ has been unbearable, and every fleck of stress I have been feeling has decided to take root in my neck and back causing my arms and hands to be numb. I’m having trouble focusing and thinking clearly. I’m trying to de-stress but it’s not exactly working.
All of that is to come to a specific point I wanted to make with this post. I’m not really a mushy person, but sometimes things need to be said because if they aren’t then you run the risk of missing the opportunity to let others know how they’ve impacted your life.
Yesterday I was a bit upsidedown in the brain, and the attention I would usually spend trying to figure out upgrading this site to WP 2.5 was chaotic and scattered. I was at my wit’s end. A few amazing individuals offered their support and wizardy knowledge of all things WP, and eventually Woy the Amazing Wizard of HAGS slayed the discombobulated mess that was my site and the WP upgrade. Thank you, yo! ( @minkar and @MrDirby offered their guru knowledge, and thank you to Cindy for her WebGoddess assistance previosuly with a simmilar problem. I don’t think I thanked her properly, either. You guys never cease to amaze me!)
And last night I was certain that I was going to have to bail on a gathering to hang out and play a little M:tG because I was spending a good deal of time in the hospital and I was pretty wiped out. Even though the festivities were to kick off at 5, when I finally said goodnight to Mom and finished family taxi duty around 9 pm, the guys were just getting started! I finally got to there around quarter to 10, I believe, and we had pizza, cards, and a good deal of laughter. My natural tendency is to baracade myself in my apartment, in books, under the covers, in writing, alone when I’m overwhelmed and stressed. I’m just a solitary person by nature, I guess. But that’s not always good for me, and the hours of laughing until my sides hurt and playing some cards–of being with folks who are just good fun–made a world of difference to me. I’ll post about the gathering a little later (complete with some interesting images stolen from the night’s events!). This post is already long, and I’m sure Norm’s having a coronary.
And one last word of thanks to everyone who has emailed, twittered, left messages, texted and just given me a hug in these past few days. Knowing people genuinely care makes things a hell of a lot easier for someone who has a tendency to think she can take on the world alone–especially when she realizes she can’t, and realizes that she doesn’t have to.
So thank you… for everything.
Dawn