Worn Down

My visit with Matt went as well as can be expected. It is the most alert I've seen him in some time and he was able to conversate comfortably for a good hour or so. I miss him. I miss planning fun stuff with him and joking around on the phone. He has chemo on Monday, blech. I know it's horrible. I've seen what it does to people, how it takes them down a notch every time. Matty shaved his head in rebellion against his hair falling out, way to go yo! When it grows back, I think we should color it blue or purple or something. I am worried about his eyebrows this next chemo, I know loosing facial/body hair can be really traumatic for some patients. I sometimes wonder if anyone is talking to him about this stuff. If he knows anyone in his immediate, close circle who might be able to warn him about how food won't taste the same for a while, but it will taste good again. About how he can drink chamomile tea for the chills and the shaking or how massage is proven to be effective in over all treatment and does his insurance cover that? I mostly just wish I were more available to him, hopefully my availability will increase as my mobility does.

My son is rebelling. Sometimes I wish he'd just want to run out and pierce something or dye his hair purple and gel it into spikes. Or wear ratty clothes or wear eyeliner. Or listen to music that might be considered obnoxious by others. Or even have a bad attiude, but still manage his school work/life appropriately. These are things I could totally tolerate and probably even enjoy secretly. Because these are forms of rebellion that seem healthy to me, seem like what he SHOULD be doing. But not Max, nope. He really wants to act like I don't effect him, that I don't matter and neither does school or any other realm of responsibility that is applicable to his very young lif. Which is also fairly limited, I must often refrain from saying "When I was your age I had to raise an infant, work and deal with a man who beat the shit out of me." But obviously I don't, that's the immature selfish Sarah that wants to scream out in a rage at how he really can't seem to manage the simplest of things without being babysat. He is not taking this suspension at school at all seriously. Today he pushed me over the edge, you know....to that "I am so calm because if I am not calm I am going to loose it on you and then you'll really be shocked." phase. It's such a long story, I don't have the energy for it except to say this: Communicating with teen age boys is like talking to an arbitrary wall of hormonal confusion and ignorance. Quite possibley one of the most frustrating things on record.

sigh.

I will admit to feeling the nudges of depression trying to worm it's way in on me. Right now, I am ignoring it. I really don't think I have the energy to battle it tonight and I know better then to try and predict it after the "right now" part. It could get worse or better in the coming days, it could be the change in seasons or the fact that I am stuck in the house mostly alone and when I am not alone I am being leered at by the one person in this world that I love so unconditionally I can hardly bare it some days. It could be that I am deeply concerned about a close friend whom I know is going through a difficult time herself. It could be that Max has worn me down to a nub of my former fairly patient self or that I can't stop thinking about Matt. Or hormones which peanut butter and chocolate would most certainly help my mood but not my ass, which I would REALLY like to avoid that getting any bigger than it already is.

I am eager to return to work, start driving myself around so I can be outside, living. Thriving. I am nervous about driving, but actually think the more I put weight on my foot the more it COULD be possible for me to drive sooner then I think. We'll see. I was on it a lot today and it doesn't even hurt or ache, yet. I've found that tends to happen when I lay down and try to fake myself into sleeping and by the way....a lot of people have asked....can you feel it in there? Does it feel weird....yes and yes. It feels like just what it is, an object that was once foreign to my body is now a part of my body and when you spend 32 years without something and suddenly it's there, it feels a little strange. I definitely don't go poking around it (cuz there's still that big ole nasty incision mark) I can sometimes feel it poking at me though when I lay on it a certain way at night. Poke poke poke. Not painful, just weird. Strangely enough, it doesn't hurt at all where the plate/screws are....it aches and bugs me every where else in that vicinity but there. Like my bones/tendons all around it are reacting to this new intruding thing. The body is a fascinating thing.

We'll see what the physical therapist says tomorrow.

Off for now kids, I am thinking of eating some peanut butter and honey. I figure if I do, that's ok. There are worse things.