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Where you're either looking for a fix, or just plain bananas

Don't mind me, I'm just having another emotional breakdown

Monday, May 08, 2006
written by Java Junkie

First of all, welcome to the first draft of Java Junkie and The Monkey. I can't promise this is where we'll end up for good because I'm still trying to get Monkey to agree to let me register our own domain so that I can host our own blog. After having my own web dev business for 5 years I'm just neurotic about being able to do what I want, how I want, where I want. Simply put, I'm a web site control freak :D But more than likely this is where we'll still be long from now and far from here.

I can only imagine the impression I've given those of you that have only met me through blogging. For about the last 2 months on my most recent blog,
As Crazy as it Sounds I've done a fair amount of pouting, complaining, ranting, and whining. Mind you there were some fun moments in there as well but by and large much more drama than I really am accustom to. And here I am again to add yet another post that literally hurts my chest, physically and emotionally, to write.

I debated whether or not to write something at all for a couple days. I kept going back to the fact that I wasn't even sure my Tover knew so I didn't want to write it in fear that he would find out this horrid news that I learned last Wednesday through a blog. Last night, however, I spoke to him and found out that he did, indeed, know. And now I write in hopes to better be able to cope with what I need to. To find courage somehow through typing out all of the crippling emotions out here. A blind hope that somewhere, some magic word, some post, hitting "publish" - will somehow give me the strength that I need for myself - and for others.

Wednesday while I was out spending 3 hours being x-rayed and poked and prodded at a Rheumatologist's office to be told that yes, I did indeed have CFIDS but there was nothing he could do for me, my Daddy left a message on our answering machine saying that he was living up to his promise and that he had a "bit of bad news, nothing earth shattering" that he wanted to tell me about. I called him as soon as I heard the message only to play phone tag with him. He called me back within minutes.

Someone kicked my knees out from under me... And then they hit me with a 2x4 across the back, skillfully removing all air from my chest and paralyzing my heart in a vice in one instant motion. Even now, almost a week later, as I type this, words cannot describe the fear, the pain, the anger, the irrationality I feel as I think of the words he said to me. "My last PET scan showed two dark spots on my lungs."

Awhile ago I had listed my dad's 5th year anniversary surviving stage 4 lymphatic cancer as one of the top 10 moments in my life. In marriage the 50th anniversary is the "big" one.. With cancer, it's the 5th. After surviving cancer without relapse for 5 years the patient's chances of having a relapse drops drastically and their chances of living a full and normal life span increases to 90% or better, depending on the cancer. Now that date, that moment, that number, just seems so unreal to me. Not SURreal. Unreal. Inconsequential. Five and a half years after my dad's cancer was removed, along with most of the muscle from his left ear down to his left shoulder and the nerves that control the left side of his tongue and he was radiated and chemo'ed until he lost all his teeth, 80 lbs, contracted a permanent systemic staph infection that at times renders him essentially quarantined from children and elderly, his thyroid became almost unmanageable, and he can no longer eat most solid foods, they have now retracted that percentage and thrown in a big, pile of "too fucking bad" to flush it down the toilet with.

He tells me that there is a 20% error rate on PET scans, and that they'll be doing 2 CAT scans within the next week to cross check. He tells me that if it IS cancer, that it's actually GOOD that it's in his lungs and not in his neck where it was originally because they wouldn't be able to treat it at ALL there. He tries to encourage my spirits by reminding me that there wasn't anything on his last PET scan 3 months ago and so if it IS cancer they caught it early. But all I can hear is "My last PET scan showed two dark spots on my lungs" "two dark spots on my lungs" "on my lungs."

Every minute, every single second that it enters my mind, which is about 389 thousand times an hour, I pray "Please don't take my Daddy away from me, God. Please let my Daddy be ok." And that's all I can find the strength to do before I have to wipe tears from my eyes, try to find at least some of the breath that 2x4 knocked out of me again, and go read
Mr. Brown Can Moo for the 10th time that day.
11:28 PM ::
4 Comments:
  • My sweetest sister, I would hold you if I could.

    By Blogger nmariluna, at 8:39 AM  
  • Hey Sissy, first of all I LOVE this new site. I'm changing my blogroll right now.

    Second, I know how shocking and upsetting the news about your Dad is, and all I can say is I'm here if you want to talk or anything.

    Love you

    By Blogger Elizabeth, at 8:08 PM  
  • This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    By Blogger Jenny, at 2:07 PM  
  • I'm very blessed to have you two in my life - as well as all of the other wonderful people I'm priviledged to call friends and family that have contacted me after reading this. I love you all (and Jen, I did get the msg you originally posted on here before you deleted it - I took it how (I think) you meant it - with no offense and I understand exactly what you were trying to say. :) Thank you :)

    Sisters - we are definately coming up on the weekend of the 20th just to let you two know. Love you.

    By Blogger Java Junkie, at 3:16 PM  
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