With every broken heart, we should become more adventurous.
When Lanty was diagnosed with that darned Lymphona last summer, I felt, momentarily anyway, the solidity of life drop right out from under me. There was very little that could make it seem right again. Lanty was the third leg of our little three-legged family. For last, oh, ten years or so, whenever would get that pesky inquiry, “when are you going to start a family?” we’d always say, at least to each other, “we ARE a family. You, me, and Lant.” Our family, defined. Now, our family was going to change. And the ground on which I stood turned to mud, mushy and slippery. Would I fall in it? Would my shoes get ruined?
The rescue chemo held back the tumor for a week, but it raged back, growing to three times its size in two weeks. It took his ability to eat, to enjoy being touched, to breathe comfortably. He left us when he knew we were taken care of, when Derek assured him that he would be okay without his little boy. He left us quietly, gently, with the dignity that he always embodied.
Bad news today. Feeling sort of horrible and exhausted and uncomprehending. The last being ridiculous because it’s not like we didn’t know this was coming. Especially after the recurrence of the cancer in January.
But, oh, that does not make it one bit easier. Not one bit.
I kind of want one if it would take me back to the time when these fabulous commercials would interrupt As The World Turns which I watched in a decongestant haze on the couch while my mom made me buttery alphabet noodles out in the kitchen.
Life is a merry-go-round. Like the kind where you get on, chose the perfect horse, and start spinning, only to realize that you’ve had three sticks of cotton candy, ice cream, AND all those nachos, and while they were all delightful going down, they won’t be at all fun coming back up which is exactly what’s going to happen in a few moments.
Thanks for dropping by. I'm Meg, and I write offbeat stories about media and the culture that shapes us.
I have one foot firmly planted in today and one in a pink kitchen in a suburb in 1957. It's not that I want to live in the past; I just love the aprons. I also have a thing for horror movies.
Thanks for dropping by. I'm Meg, and I write offbeat stories about media and the culture that shapes us.
