Quiet Moments of Reflection

Before my recent posts, I hadn't published one in nearly two years, so let's see if I can catch everyone up.

Hmmmmm. Let's see...my mom got sick in late-ish 2024 and died in early 2025. I think in terms of semesters, and spending time with and then losing her is how I spent fall '24 and spring '25. When the 2025-26 school year started, I thought maybe the hard stuff had ended (after all, I'd lost Mom and Dad in pretty quick succession). Instead, Stow tore his ACL in August and had surgery in September, and right before Thanksgiving, Ren had his eighth (8TH!!!!!!) spine surgery to address the fact that his right arm had stopped working consistently. Fall 2025 was my first two-surgery semester. Surely things would be better in the new year!

After feeling really stuck in processing my grief, going through my first Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's without her, while also stuck at home caring for Ren, seemed like a real low point. On the anniversary of her death in late January, I decided to celebrate by going to Culver's for a scoop of the flavor of the day (her favorite, no matter what the flavor 🤣), I had hopes of playing board games with Ren and the kids. Mom was a game shark, and she loved playing board games. I thought we could all reflect on our good memories while doing these two simple things that she loved so much. 

If you've read this blog for a while, you KNOW my plan for a simple evening thinking about Mom was a little too much to ask. Here's what actually happened:

1. Two out of three kids refused to go to Culver's (in their defense, they were varying degrees of sick), and the third went but refused to engage in conversation because they had gotten overwhelmed by something completely unrelated. 
2. Ren and I talked about memories of Mom, but, on a good day, he can only remember as far back as what he ate at breakfast, so that brief conversation ended with both of us eating in silence (lol),
3. On the way home, I realized I had forgotten to get a hamburger for one of the sick kids, so I decided to go through the McDonald's drive-thru, which elicited opinions from my two passengers. Ignoring those opinions, I ordered the food, paid for it, and then promptly drove away without stopping at the pickup window, which meant I had to turn around and pick up the now-cold food. How nobody in the car noticed I drove away without the food, I don't know, but when I got back to the window, the McDonald's employee helpfully pointed out that I had forgotten the food. Thanks. Thanks a lot. 
4. When I got back from the second stop at McDonald's and got out of the car, I noticed a gas smell. I asked Ren and a kid about it, and both told me THEY HAD BEEN SMELLING IT FOR AWHILE 🤯🤯🤯. I suggested that smelling gas is not usually a good sign and that we should call the gas company.
5. Hearing my description, the guy on the phone told us to evacuate the house immediately without turning anything on or off. So much for game night.

The children were already dysregulated, so I think you can guess how it went from there. Two children followed Ren's instructions literally and walked out of the house, through the back door of the garage, through the yard, and to the sedan parked in the driveway. They turned that car on and sat so close to the house, they might as well have been in the garage. When I told them to move the car, they both said they couldn't drive because their feet were too cold because THEY WALKED THROUGH THE SNOW WITHOUT THEIR SHOES ON BECAUSE REN TOLD THEM TO HURRY. Mind you, they had to step OVER their shoes to leave the house. The third kid refused to leave because they wanted to eat their McDonald's, and they thought they'd keep the cats company. The dog, meanwhile, ran away and tried to get into the neighbor's garage to see if they could play with their dogs. 

I think at the point where I was going back and forth between the kid in the house, the kids in the car, and Ren trying to explain the situation to the neighbors, I realized that my dreams of peaceful reflection were and had always been a fool's errand. Eventually, I left one kid to die (or, hopefully not) in the house, convinced the other two to move the car to the curb, and secured the dog with the neighbors because I could not imagine squeezing her into the car with the four of us. Then I got into the car with Ren and the other two kids to warm up from the 20-degree weather. 

If you think that was the end of it, you clearly haven't been around for long, because once I was in the car, the three out-of-sync people in the car with me lost it. One repeatedly questioned whether we really needed to leave the house. Another worried relentlessly about the cats but also the thing that was stressing them out when we went to Culver's. The third person ramped up higher and higher from the anxious energy of the other two until they were loudly imitating them, triggering further reaction. It got so loud in the car, that I told that kid to start driving. Somewhere in the back of my head, I thought the motion of the car would soothe everyone, like it does when you're trying to get a crying baby to sleep. Also, I didn't want neighbors to start coming out of their houses to see what all the noise was about.

Driving around the block didn't help, but at least the noise was moving at a decent clip so no one had time to come out and see what was going on. 

Fortunately, when we got back to the house, the guy from the gas company was pulling up. I jumped out as fast as I could and took him to the house, where he discovered a leak in the pool gas line. We didn't die, but I am not sure I will ever be the same. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Indiana Sunset the Night I Learned about Brian

Anyway, that's how January ended, and once I got past the first anniversary of Mom's death, I felt a little lighter even though I didn't get a chance to have a meaningful moment of reflection. Also, I knew I'd be going back to Indiana to visit her grave and see old friends in just over a month, so it felt like I was finally starting to process some grief. I was looking forward to the moments of quiet reflection I hoped to have when I was away on my trip.

We all know how THAT turned out!

What IS That Thing?!

 If you haven't seen the previous post, read this first.

I'm sure I did what anyone else would if they were far from home, having just learned they have a chest lemon. First, I slept for a couple of hours, sent messages to a couple of doctors, and called Ren. He reminded me it was the anniversary of our first date and told me nothing terrible would happen on such a beautiful and important day. The original intent of my nights alone in the hotel was to spend some time relaxing and reflecting on the past year. So I tried not to let the news stop me. I went for brunch and explored an amazing bookstore, where I mostly sat and tried to catch my breath.

Since I was exhausted, I returned to my hotel room, where I opened all the windows, turned on the women's college basketball game, and took a really long nap. It was such a gorgeous day, warm and breezy--perfect weather for sleeping. But I imagine you don't want to hear about all of that. Like I did, you want to know what that THING is.

Let me tell you, it's not so easy to get the answer to that kind of question. While you're waiting, you might even have time to name the thing you're trying to identify. Having just lost my mom to cancer, I am acutely aware that persistence is key when you find things in your body that aren't supposed to be there. Within about a day, I had several appointments scheduled. Then those appointments led to more appointments. I also continued accompanying Ren to his appointments (more on that later, I guess). By the end of week 3 of knowing about Brian, I had had an MRI and was headed to a thoracic surgeon.

I already knew what the doctor was going to say before she told me. How could it not be the super rare cancer I'd been reading about? I don't know why or how, but I knew this months before that appointment. I've been coughing for years and just not feeling like myself; it had to be something, and pretty much everything else had been ruled out. The good news is that this kind of cancer is super slow-growing and can usually be managed with surgery if caught early. 

The weird thing about news like this is that it's really hard to figure out who to share it with. I'd rather not talk about it because I'd rather not talk about myself. Also, I don't like pity. But, also, the news is a drag, so I kinda want people to cheer me up. It'll be fine, but it'll stink for a little bit. I'm going to drop balls and may have to miss some stuff for the kids. I guess I'm going to have to really figure out how to chill. Sigh.

Anyway, I leave you with two amazing pictures a friend created when he heard the news. I really do have the best friends!