Some Things Never Change..Even if they Indicate a Pattern

Disclaimer: Written about a year ago, but found today (July 28, 2018).
I went back to my calendar, and interesting timing on my memory - the date I was writing about below - Aug 2, 2017 - Almost one year later to the day.
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This morning, Dad had an appointment scheduled with the Eye Surgeon to discuss his cataracts and the plan for dealing (or not dealing) with them.

I woke up "late" - later than I had planned, but still early for the rest of the world - 0430, so that I could get some work done before taking Dad. I felt the start of a headache, but blew it off.

In hindsight, I later realized it was a tension headache. Taking Dad to a new Dr, which is stressful for me in and of itself. The fact that surgery, no matter how minor, is involved probably skyrockets my stress level and tends to overwhelm my emotions - whether I realize it or not.

I picked Dad up, and off we went. I don't mind driving him to Doctors, but as I have posted in many posts before, many times I turn into the parent, and this was one of them. I flat out refuse to let (forbid) Dad drive there - alone, or not. Our Eye Doctor is in the West Valley on the other side of town, and to get there you take I-10 to I-17, or as they are called here - "the 10" to "the 17." Many out here are like me, and are loyal to certain freeways. I like the 101 and the 202, and will take them if possible. I hate "the 10" - the drivers just seem more aggressive than on other highways. And the only one I hate worse than the 10..you guessed it, the 17. Uggh - so let's just add to the headache and stress level. I was full of nerves, tension, and nausea. 

For most of the ride, I just prayed please just get us there safely, and He did.

Because like father, like son, and like son, like father - we were over 40 minutes early so we stopped to get some breakfast and a cup of coffee for me.

Got to the Dr's office, and we were both under the impression that we were just going to talk to the doctor and be out within a few minutes. Lo and behold, we were finished 2.5 hours later! They moved us around the office, conducting various different tests and whatnot...the last nurse to come in before we saw the surgeon made a comment to the effect of "well you will get some drops before your procedure is done, which caught both of us off guard. We both thought that meant one of his cataracts was getting removed today!

When I feel we have not had time to prepare, or warned, about something - I turn into the ferocious Papa Bear attacking back; the defender and protector. My normally quiet and shy demeanor takes the backseat to my assertive and take control of the situation side. This was no different; The nurse left the room. We both exchanged quizzical looks and then I said we were going to ask the doctor if he didn't tell us otherwise if he was having one of the procedures done today. I basically went into attack mode. 
"Why didn't they tell us"
"How you can plan for this"
"This is a total lack of communication"
"If they do this again, that's their third strike..I will look for a new doctor"
(I was a bit feisty)

The doctor came in and thoroughly explained everything - what to expect, what would happen, what the recovery would be like, etc. He really won both of us over. As much as you look for a doctor with experience and medical skills, for lack of a better word - I also want a doctor with a good bedside manner, and this guy had it. He managed to answer all the questions I had, before I had a chance to ask them. I got the feeling he had his "shpiel" down pat, and it calmed me down and put me at ease.

After we saw the surgeon/doctor, we then met with the scheduler. Thank G-d for Google Calendar, so with the 3 of us sitting there, I can access my calendar at work, and my personal calendar as well as my parents calendar, and we negotiated dates and times that would work best for my schedule as the hired help aka chauffeur and Dad and other appointments he had.

The headache increased and was nearly throbbing - because now I really had to face the fact that he was going to deal with the cataracts and surgery. I hate change, and I definitely hate new medical stuff, but, at least I recognized it, and I knew that doing this in Dad's best interest to help him see clearly again.

So with our dates set for now - we left for home. Originally I thought I would have Dad drop me at work and I would just take an Uber home, but they dilated his eyes so that idea was pretty much a non-idea. I drove him home and then left to go to work. 

Always trust your intuition!! As I was about to get back on the highway, I thought, Wouldn't it just really suck to get hit as I'm trying to rush back to work. And in that next moment, a car decided not to look, and cut me off, forcing to slam on the brakes so hard, I felt my entire body rise up off the seat. I was inches from slamming into them, for what was their own fault. UGGH! All was well, no accidents thank goodness. Just my nerves getting even more shot.

In hindsight, about a year past when I originally wrote this - Sometimes you just can't plan. You have no choice, but to react accordingly and do all you can to survive.

Perhaps that's why I never posted this. I thought it was missing something, and I could never figure out how to end this post and tie it all together. The student was waiting for the teacher to appear with the lesson.

Being OK

I originally wrote this and posted it on Facebook 4 years ago - July 26, 2014.

Apparently, I had an amazing glimpse into and foresight of, the future.
At the time of my original post, my Dad was still mobile and relatively healthy (even as he was undergoing chemo) and although I don’t remember exactly what, something must have prompted me to write; likely another medical scare of some kind.
I'm posting it here so I can easily refer to it in the future.

Even four years later, re-reading what I wrote made an impact on me, again.
Powerful writing, back then as the son of a cancer patient, and now on the other side of the equation:


Clearly, you can always say that someone has it worse than you do, and that no matter how bad or dire your situation seems, it's quite better than what others may be dealing with. Some days there is complete and utter acceptance, of saying "it is what it is, and life does in fact go on.

And there are THOSE days.

The ones when you may question "why me?" -- not to mean why not someone else but it's a sign of a struggle between you and yourself. The struggle of realizing you just can't fix it all. The struggle to relinquish the control, of something you have zero control over.

These same days when you find those feelings of envy or jealousy bubbling to the surface. Jealous of those who don't know what's going on. Envious of those who are ignorant. Not intentionally ignorant, but who just have not had to deal with the same stuff, cross those same bridges, to realize that nothing lasts forever, and we are only on this earth for a finite period.

Jealous that they can be so carefree and live in the moment, where I don't feel I have that luxury anymore. Jealous that in my mind, that tomorrow goes on forever, when in reality, it doesn't.

You have to make the most of each and every moment you are blessed to spend with your loved ones and friends.

There's no explanation, no magic fix to make it all better.

All you can do is have faith in that even if it's not ok right now, it really still is OK. And it will be.

We Will Rebuild

Here in Arizona, the monsoons are a frequent occurrence during the summer.
Often, they are precluded by the dust storms that roll in first.
These walls of dirt and dust roll in, with somewhat little notice, overtake the air and ground, and then move on - generally, but not always, followed by rains that clear the area and restore the upset.

It was after one of these storm combinations recently, that made me realize grief can be so very similar.

I had missed (fell asleep during) a recent storm.  I heard my phone buzz with the monsoon alert and promptly fell asleep. As conditions were ripe again the following day, I hoped and prayed I would be awake to witness Mother Nature in all her glory.
Be careful what you ask for.

Mother Nature, as I had hoped, did not disappoint. My phone again went off, I looked outside and saw the beginning of the sky turn the typical shade of hot chocolate brown. I got very excited and went outside to experience it. At this point, there was no rain and not much wind. I stood outside our apartment, looking out to the street and just soaking in the experience. Had my Dad still been here, we would have been the texting pictures and updates to each other, from our respective locations, what color the sky was, how fast the clouds were moving, etc.
 

I made fun of him for it, but I am my Father’s son.
In all honesty, we were/are both weather geeks and wannabe meteorologists.
He always hated the term “haboob” which is probably why I love saying it so much.

I stood outside and in those moments, I felt an amazing connection with my Dad during this time. As the dust wall rolled in, I felt a sense of peace come over me.
He was with me.

A few minutes later, I returned back inside our apartment and that’s when the gravity of the situation hit. I couldn’t call my Dad to share this moment with him. I couldn’t text him my pictures and compare his sky to mine. My Dad wasn’t here, and this monsoon had given me a tremendous trigger and caught me off guard. There were both inside my head and outside storms occurring that night.

I went to the computer to type some of my thoughts, and I began to cry hard.
I really miss my Dad.
 
I wrote this on his FB page an in effort to communicate with my Dad and talk to him:
 
I went outside and stood for a few minutes, admiring nature in all its glory. We would have been on the phone - texting pics, giving updates on the exact shade of brown and comparing weather radar apps.
For as much as I made fun of you for it, I am the exact same way.
I am a wannabe weather broadcaster, and
I am your son.
Standing outside before, I felt this sense of calm and peace come over me. Did you grant my wish to see a storm in person? I felt connected to you by watching outside, but it’s a double edged sword and is really making me miss you.
I’ve been able to survive without calling you before now, but this caught me off guard.
What a tremendous trigger.
I can only imagine the kind of breathing issues you’d be having with hot chocolate dust for air.
I love and miss you so much, Dad.
❤️💔
There is a running joke with a meme that goes around here with a picture of a fallen over patio chair captioned “WE WILL REBUILD.”

What’s that about when the student is ready, the teacher appears.
As I drove to work the next morning, is when the idea of the monsoon storm symbolizing grief popped into my head, and this blog entry was born.


It has taken me a few days to get time to express these thoughts in writing.

I wrote last night (now two days after the monsoon described above)
I’ve been in a terrible funk off and on for about the past week and a half or so...but in a moment of strength a few hours ago, I decided to listen to some voicemails I had saved from my Dad. I wasn’t sure what would happen emotionally, but I was thrilled to hear his voice and hear him say “I love you” or call me one of the many nicknames he had for me. I heard his sense of humor that I miss. I laughed. For a few brief shining moments, it was nice to hear. I’m so glad I had saved those and any email he sent me over the past few years, so that I have them for all time. Or as long as GMail and Google Voice let me. ❤️ It didn’t upset me, it gave me peace.

We will rebuild.
Indeed, I will.
I am rebuilding.