I am warning you now to look away from this rant about my terrible day. My toddler stayed up too late and woke up quite early. By 11 a.m., he was a hysterical mess. By noon (still awake), he couldn't decide if he wanted to be rocked or lay in his bed - so he cried. Just when I thought he was asleep, I heard him tell me he needed a diaper change, which was like hitting a big reset button on the nap routine that was already going terribly bad.
Yesterday I gave my mom a hug and quietly asked her if she was good with God. Her surgery is tomorrow afternoon - a very risky surgery that she definitely needs. Her surgeon has a 5 out of 6 success rate (literally, he has only done this surgery six times and lost one patient), which doesn't make me feel comfortable at all.
My foot hurts from the combination of my doctor squeezing it to make sure it was still inflamed and the inevitable standing on it while cooking and washing what seemed like 30 loads of dishes over the week of Thanksgiving. My husband volunteered to do the dishes and had good intentions - he just never got to it, so I did. I stood on layers of rubber mats to cushion my foot and I did dishes.
After school today, just as I got done whining to my older daughter about the terrible toddler nap time, the phone rang (threatening to awaken the finally-asleep toddler). I picked it up quickly and maybe cussed first. It was my doctor's office calling to give me the results from a test. They said it wasn't great and I asked me to get a pen and paper to write down all the steps I need to do next. I need a biopsy. They didn't said cancer, but one can infer that's what they are checking for when there's a tumor and a biopsy to be done with some apparent urgency.
At least steps to take make you have a sense of control when there's really no control to be had. I suppose it really is a miracle every time we take our next breath, and we take that too much for granted. I told my daughter what was going on since she heard the conversation. I told her it would be fine for sure.
Now I feel very tired and just want to sleep and wake up feeling better. I am overwhelmed with a sense that it is unfair that I have had so many medical issues in just one lifetime. On the other hand, I have lived such a wonderful life, maybe this is how the universe gives you balance whether you want it or not.
If it turns out that the next steps bring even worse news, I think I want to rent a summer house at the beach if we can afford it - even something in the general vicinity of our favorite beach in North Carolina. I want to spend a month or the summer with my kids sitting on the sand, dodging seagulls, and watching them run in the water as the waves crash on the shore over and over and over again with simultaneous force and tranquility. I want to laugh and not worry. I want to put up a canopy for the month and rub my sweet baby's back while he lays in the shade in the open air to take his nap. I want to build big wet, ridiculously hilarious sandcastles with my kids and sit on a beach towel as the tide comes in and watch the water melt them away and back out to sea. I want to walk out to the pier with giant ice cream cones in hand, smelling like sunscreen, with silly giant beach hats on our heads and sunglasses on our faces while we check out the catch of the day and watch a lone surfer doing his best in the weak waves as the sun sets on the horizon.
I want to go on vacation now. I want to feel that sense of complete peace, serenity, and happiness now. Maybe we all do. That's the place that I want to go for as long as I can afford it. Hopefully that will be more than five days.