So my first and last attempt to write here was in 2011 ... I've started many journals. I also have one in Day One. I may refer back to that at some point and incorporate some of those thoughts here in the future assuming I am successful in continue this practice this time. But I decided that I needed a writing outlet again ... right here ... right now ... while my world is spinning out of control and I am helpless to control it.
I am sitting in Casey and and Kevin's living room. I came for a two-week visit for Thanksgiving and arrived on November 16th. Today is December 10th ... Eleven days ago, on the night of November 30th (the day I was supposed to have returned home), after Casey went into the hospital for what we thought was to be a routine appendectomy, we were told they also removed a tumor and part of her colon and small intestine. The subsequent diagnosis was an adenocarcinoma... they have yet to harvest enough lymph nodes (only 6, all negative) to be sure it hasn't spread to the lymphatic system. More surgery is necessary to make that determination. She's a unique case. If they had gone in to remove the tumor in the first place, they would have taken enough of the colon to have ensured they had enough lymph nodes ... but that was not the purpose of the surgery. They are relatively certain the surgery will reveal that the new lymph nodes are also negative but it postpones putting her on chemo .... not desirable. There is no good solution.
Watching my angel suffer ... seeing her as terrified as she is ... being as scared and alone as I am ... having no one to support me, no one's shoulder to lean on, to cry on ... dear God, I hate being a whiner but there are times when being a single parent REALLY sucks beyond all measure.
My daughter has gone out for a few hours to her acting class ... a so much needed escape for her right now. I'm praying that for these few hours she is able to think of other things and enjoy the company of those people that she has come to know over the last year and has benefited so much from. I sit here looking for a similar escape ... and so I write to you. You, of course, won't be writing back. You don't even know I exist. But just the act of putting this down ... of feeling that I am conversing with someone is cathartic in its own way. I've tried to do it with the Yorkies ... They're very good at licking away the stray tears (I can't let too many fall ... can't let the dam break ... I won't be able to plug it again). So, thanks for listening.
