The Reason I'm Still Up

I didn't call Grum today.
I even got that unmistakable cue from the universe to call her (This time it was a friend who wrote "I miss you Grum" in her own status!) and because it was dinner time and she was unlikely to be home at the moment, I told myself I'd call her later.
Minutes later I was in the car, driving, picking up my son, driving again, getting dinner ready while simultaneously playing Wii with my son, feeding two whiny cats, eating with my son, talking with my husband, clearing dishes... and the to-do list of daily life carried me away with it again.
I didn't call my Grum.
And I miss her terribly.
We live too far apart and she's a bit too self-conscious and a bit too old for a lot of the things and ways we'd make that distance feel smaller. But it doesn't mean I shouldn't have called.

You see, my Grum is unique in that she is that unique person in my life who's faults I know, I see, I openly accept (even when I don't like them and tell her so) and love her unconditionally. She very may well be the only person in my family (my son is still little - when he's 10 we'll see...) whom loves me unconditionally, wholly, unselfishly and without hesitation. While my brother will show up if I make it known I need him, while my husband does love me... it's Grum who I know is not held by any societal constraints to love me, I know she sees my short comings, I know she rolls her eyes at my extravagance when it's there, but I also hear her cheering me on from almost 300 miles away. I hear the comfortable silence of "nothing left to talk about, but I'm not ready to hang up yet" after a few minutes on the phone. I have patience and acceptance for her, who she is NOW, like few do because all too many in my family forget that there is a NOW that we live in, not the past. We carry our pasts around like a scrapbook, but they are not the present. I accepted and loved her then when she was a screaming shrew. But then again, her other half wasn't half as sweet as he was painted to be. He just always spoke very low when he wasn't being nice... so if you didn't have hearing like Grum & I it was easy to miss the subtle goading. I loved them then. I love them now. But I miss Grum.

There's little I can do for her from here. She needs me to remind people to let her go her own pace, so I do so when I get the opportunity. She desperately needs me to remind people that she does, in fact, listen to them now, even if that wasn't the case 25 years ago. She's still Kate, she's still fiery at times, but she knows times aren't easy and that her body isn't young anymore. She doesn't want to be labelled as helpless or feeble, but she also recognizes that her reflexes suck. Her confidence has faded through lack of repetition... the whole "use it or lose it" she's learned the hard way has much truth to it. Her cooking ability has reverted to that of a teenage boy... but now their budget and waistlines are putting her at the crossroads of sensibility and ability: Going out to eat every night for dinner is too expensive, Cooking is limited and receiving meals offends her sense of independence (and ability to control her choices.). Oh the odd calamaties of age.


About to fall is a big blow that she is trying to desperately figure out how to soften without having to deal with the drama... How does one deal with illness and treatment in a small town without drawing attention but without isolating yourself and your husband from every other living person you know? Small towns are horrible for gossip... and having one of the town gossips be your very dramatic niece who's house you can see from your own recliner isn't the most calming reality in the world when things go awry either. It's nice to have a loving relative so close... but I can attest that the upside to having such a caring relative so close comes at a steep price to any privacy and calm a sensible person is likely to desire. My cousin was the one to show up and take me to the hospital when I couldn't reach my parents in the middle of the night. She took me on some awesome Spring Break trips. She has also embarrassed me on multiple occasions... one time which was so bad she almost lost her job because of it! She announces whatever it is you feel is private information as loudly and as quickly as she can to what feels like every person in town before you have a chance to hide for cover. I want to be in town when she finds out - I want to be there to physically stand in her way as she opens her mouth to wail and somehow turn it all into a drama about how it hurts her... because just this once I would shut her up. There are a few nice ways and a lot of quick nasty ones. Whatever works.


When you're going through a cancer scare the worst thing a family member can do is let that quick wash of fear and uncertainty take hold and stay there. The all-too-common reaction of being shocked and loudly worried about it to the patient does the patient no good. Why do people always almost yell "Oh my god that's horrible!" ? I understand that you're shocked, but you're an adult. Keep your head enough to at least keep your voice down! Secondly, I understand there are questions. It's natural. However, there are intelligent questions, there are immediate questions, and then there are dumb statements that you want me to pretend are questions that just piss me off. If someone tells you about a medical issue PLEASE take a breath and count to 5 before saying anything. It's like when someone has a miscarriage and you tell them "It's all for the best." They know you're heart means well, but all they can focus on is how much of an asshole you sound like and how much they wish they hadn't told you anything at all about it. 
If you love a patient, ask the immediate questions... Do you need any help today? What does that diagnosis mean? When does your treatment/surgery/follow up/new diet start? Could your spouse use a hand around the house/with rides/ a hand to hold? Is this something that is okay for me to tell other people or is it a secret for now? 
If you love a patient, LOOK at them when you ask a question, LOOK and LISTEN to their response. If they're getting angry, love them enough to stop prodding. DON'T cut them off. DON'T jump to the worst conclusions. Try not to give stories of each and every person you've ever heard of with whatever their condition is. Really, we're going to get enough of that over the next few months to last a lifetime. Most of the time it will be from people we have to be nice to. Please just love us enough to do the hardest thing for families to do: Sit still and listen. Love us with all your heart. Understand that you can't walk our path for us, but you are welcome to walk beside us... so long as you listen.


I've spent an ungodly amount of time in hospitals for a (soon-to-be) 30 year old who's had a very healthy life. I've spend the night overnight in a hospital even when I wasn't the patient. I've gone with family members to pre-op, post-op, been a patient myself, been to that first appointment after remission, I've been that one non-family member there. I've been the only family member there. I've been the patient that can not get a nurse to come to the room even though they are needed RIGHT NOW so I have to figure out all the wires and tubes and get out of bed looking for them. I'm lucky enough to be that new mother with their newborn in their arms. The two things that are almost always constant are this:

People rarely listen to one another 

& hospitals are a lousy place to get any sleep unless they give you morphine.

So the next time you go to visit someone in the hospital please remember:

1. They are the patient.

2. Since they are the patient they are not there for your amusement.

3. If you get bored easily it's your responsibility to bring something to keep busy - don't steal the remote.

4. We all love clean visitors - but that just applied perfume/cologne makes patients and staff nauseous. Even if we love it on you at home, please use as little as possible.

5. We miss the kids and pets, but think twice before bringing them. Visits with rambunctious children need to be kept brief. 

6. If my water pitcher is empty please get me more water.

7. DON'T EAT MY FOOD. You have the luxury of leaving and getting more food. I may not want to eat at this very minute, but the moment you leave I'm starving... 

8. Don't come to visit me and then be on the phone the entire time you're in my room. The doctors make me feel insignificant enough. Make your business calls in the waiting room.

9. Listen to my boring story of whatever the staff told me and pretend it's not so boring.

10. Don't dismiss my pain. I'm in the friggin' hospital for a reason! Or do belittle my pain you know nothing of.... but give me a pencil to stick in your eye so I can call it even.

11. If you are really awesome you would: bring me non-scented lotion, something I would like to read, my own pajamas (even if I can't use them, there's always a chance!), music & headphones, tell a funny joke, bring a small puzzle or small game I would enjoy. (They make travel versions of tons of games now: barrel of monkeys, trivia games, Sorry!, memory, cards, crosswords....)

I am scheduled for surgery in May. I'm having my thyroid removed. Luckily this is a fairly drama free procedure. Unlike when I was 18 and having a tumor removed, this time I can say that I'm getting my thyroid removed and people don't do all the stupid cancer drama that I went through in my teens. I didn't have malignant cancer then and they don't think I do now. It is still surgery though. It still requires at least one night of overnight at the hospital, at least 4 weeks of NO lifting, and taking at least one pill every single day for the rest of my life. While I react very little to all that in person, on my fascade, it is very serious and I'm not taking it lightly. For me, the alternative is just too uncertain, too much testing and needles and trama. The minimum 4 weeks of hell that I'm in for, and have no way to properly prepare my husband and my 3 year old son for will be worth a bit of piece of mind that I haven't had for 2 years now. Goiters don't go away. My throat constantly feels like it's being pushed against my trachea on my right side even though the scope doesn't show anything significant. My voice changed... again. When I wash my face I can't help but see my throat and think "so when are you going to grow some more?" or begin to worry and wonder if I should submit to another FNA (fine needle aspiration)... but for me, FNAs are incredibly unusually painful. Childbirth was less traumatic for me. And people sympathize about childbirth being painful. People (other than my mother who's watched me go through it, and my current doctor who walked out of his own test!) dismiss my level of discomfort (pain!) because on average it's not reported as all that bad. Well, obviously most people are more fortunate than I am. FNAs on my neck are absolutely horrible. 10mg valium doesn't do shit for the pain. Codiene doesn't do shit for that pain. I can have a full blown migraine and my BP stays nearly normal. Give me a FNA and my BP goes all crazy.

Oh yeah, so my mother's coming for the first 6 days. My family lives in another state. My father acts like a child and my mother refuses to make him fend for himself for more than a week plus she owns her own business. My husband's family lives across the country. I've been a Stay at Home Mother since I moved here so I don't really know many people well.

Messes don't bother my husband at all. My son loves to be cuddled and carried. We have 2 cats. I can not lift (I physically will be unable to) for 4 weeks. That load of laundry? MUCH too heavy. Our 13 pound cat? Too heavy. That carton of milk? Still too heavy the first 2 weeks.  Believe me, I see the fight ahead of me. I wouldn't go through it if medical science understood the real cause of my thyroid enlargement and goiters or if the FNAs weren't so traumatic. I thank God that I know I'm strong enough and clever enough to get through this. I'm going to have to heavily rely on the kindness of strangers, but I think that might all just be part of the price for the reward of the return of some peace of mind.

I shall find a way or make one~ Hannibal, Grace of Gaal