Devastated

Dear Mom,

About an hour I got a call from Dad telling me that the husband of one of your closest friends (who has grown to be one of Dad's best friends) committed suicide last night. They were all together beforehand, and when he got home he shot himself in the face. Your friend was in the next room. I am devastated beyond words. I am sad for her, Dad, and for the rest of your close group of friends who are all huddled in a room together right now at someone's house trying to make sense of it all. I am sad for him because he must have been so depressed and not able to move forward. Even in my lowest points when I felt no will to live, suicide was still never a thought. I knew it would get easier with time, and I waited for it. He felt so terrible that he couldn't wait for it. That absolutely crushes me.

Yet at the same time... How could he do this to his wife? I can't imagine the weight on her heart today that may never ever lift. I can't imagine all the thoughts going through her head about what she could have done differently. How will she move on from this? How can she erase the images in her mind of running in after hearing a gunshot and finding him that way? It makes me feel sick.

And how could he do this to me? I now have to watch my father mourn another great loss in his life. They were supposed to leave for vacation together on Sunday, and now Dad's going to be attending his funeral instead. It makes my heart ache in ways it hasn't for years.

And how could he do this to you? All you ever wanted to do was live, and he took his own life on purpose. How could he? I don't understand. I feel broken. I'm so confused.

Was he having these thoughts when he came to my graduation party 8 months ago? When he wrote to me on Facebook in January asking how I was doing, would things have been different if I remembered to respond and asked him how he was too?

I'm sobbing. Can't write anymore.

Sami

If They Really Knew Me

Dear Mom,

I wrote this post a few weeks back, but it has just been sitting there waiting for the right day. It kind of has a sad tone to it, and I haven't really been that sad, so I wasn't sure of when to post it. Instead of waiting for the 'right' time, I'm making the decision that today is right! But remember, I'm happy, so don't fret my pet.

 

If they really knew me, they would know this is more than just a simple picture of us.

They would know it is the last picture we ever took together. They would know that, although it was taken in our living room, you weren't sitting on our couch; you were in a hospital bed that had been delivered months before. They would know that just behind me is one of the machines you were hooked up to, and I was in the midst of trying not to step on the bag that was connected to a tube in your stomach.

If they really knew me, they would know that earlier that morning, this is where I washed your hair. They would know that you asked me to comb it for you so you could look nice for this photograph that you would never live to see. They would know that the angel hanging on the wall above your pillow was from Gisele's little nephew, who hardly knew you, but still thought enough of you that he wanted you to feel protected and safe.

They would know that this is one of the many pictures we took that day because you hated the way you looked in each one when we showed it to you in the viewer of the camera. They'd know that I'm draping my arm across you because you asked me to cover your neck since you hated the way all the weightloss from chemo and cancer made it look. They'd know that dad refuses to look at the pictures we took that day because he can't see past the hint of fear in your tightened smile that the average person would never notice.

If they really knew me, they would know that you chose to be buried without your favorite posession that you're wearing here-- your wedding ring-- because you wanted me to have it someday instead. They would know that when you saw the color of my nail polish that morning, you asked me to have the people at the funeral parlor paint yours the same color when the time came. They would know that this is where we ate Thanksgiving dinner and where you later gave me my birthday gifts two weeks before it took place because you knew you wouldn't be there for it. They would know that not long after this picture was taken, this is exactly where we said goodbye.

If they really knew me, they'd know that they'll never really know me... not like you did.

Love,
Sami

The Results Are In

Dear Mom,

As I hoped to say in my last post: I'm just fine. At least Dr. S thinks so; I am having a pelvic ultrasound a week from today to get a better picture just to be sure, but she's almost positive that it's some lingering bacteria from one of my wonderful past yeast infections that is causing my bladder to spasm (hence the pressure feeling off and on). I should get a call by Wednesday to verify that much at least. I feel better now-- physically and mentally-- so that's a huge relief.

Gisele couldn't make the appointment with me because her father-in-law passed away last week. Of course I was bummed and extra nervous going alone, but I know her husband needed her and that was where she needed to be. I, of all people, can understand that. In a way, it worked out really, because after the examanation Dr. S pulled up a seat and chatted with me; I mean really chatted with me.

She's not one of those cold, intimidating doctors, which is why you knew I'd love her. She's in her 40s now (and just had another baby too after trying for seven years!). She's still blonde, super thin, and absolutely beautiful. She looks intimidating, but once she opens her mouth and the sweetest tone comes out, I'm always instantly at ease. We talked about Belize, my grieving improvements, and my excellent support system. I even told her about my blog (and Carly, Nancy, Tina, Teresa, Dee, Chez, Stacey, etc.!). She's really proud of me and made sure to tell me so. I was shocked. Her? A doctor? Proud of me? I felt pretty special.

At the end of our conversation, she mentioned doing a CA-125 test on me each summer when I go in for my annual check-up. She thinks it would help me to physically see that I have a low, cancerless number (hopefully... I mean, you never know what's secretly brewing down there... sorry for the bad/gross choice of words, but you get what I mean). I've always thought about this, but never thought it would actually be a reality to have the test done. Although I was hesitant, now I'm kind of excited.

Best case scenerio: it stays low forever; Worst case scenerio: it goes up, and we catch it almost immediately. Sometimes the number can spike because of an infection or something and give false, inflated results, but I think that's the only downside really. And maybe the cost too. Does it cost a lot to get that done even if a doctor requests that you do it? I don't know. Will I start to live for that number like you eventually did? I hope not. If you had this done 5 years sooner could they have done something when your CA-125 was 140 instead of 1,400? Something tells me yes, and that this could be something that could someday save my life.

I miss you and your good advice; I could really use a large dose of both right about now. But regardless, today, I'm just fine, and that's surely something to celebrate!

Love,
Sami

Appointment Anticipation

Dear Mom,

Tomorrow is finally the day for my much-anticipated doctor's appointment. Me feeling anxious is an understatement, but Gisele is coming with me, and she always helps to lighten the mood. The pressure is still off and on in my pelvis, and I have absolutely no idea if it only hurts when I worry and think about it, or if I worry and think about it because it's hurting. Really frustrating, but I am ready to solve this pelvic mystery.

I'm going to spend the rest of the weekend at home with Dad, which I'm really looking forward to. Tom is going to make the six-hour trek to be there too, so I'll finally get to give him the few little things I bought him in Belize last month. I also plan to visit a couple relatives from your side of the family, have a movie date with some sorority sisters who have moved down that way, and take some time to catch up with a few of my close friends from high school. It'll be a nice change of pace and environment.

Last I knew, Dad no longer has wireless internet, so you may not hear from me until Monday. Don't worry though (I'm doing that enough for the both of us); I will write an update as soon as I can, and hopefully it's something along the lines of, "Dear Mom, I'm just fine."

Wish you were here to ease my mind.

Love you,
Sami

Nancy's Point

Dear Mom,

Today I am being featured on Nancy's Point with a guest post discussing my experience with grief counseling called, "Shrinking My Grief". I was flattered when Nancy asked me to be a guest writer on such a wonderful blog; her writing is so informative, passionate, and relatable, and I am honored that she wanted to include my thoughts in the same forum.

Seeing our picture on someone else's website this morning released a hundred butterflies in my stomach. It was the best feeling. All I've ever wanted to do is find a way to reach out and share our story, and I'm doing just that... with the help of some very amazing people.

Love,
Sami

Losing My Cool in the Heat of the Moment

Dear Mom,

Oh boy. If only you saw what this post originally said approximately 18 hours ago. I am all for writing in the heat of the moment and saying what's really on my mind, but this is the first time I am relieved that I didn't hit 'publish post' while I was in a fit of rage.

Writing publicly about your work life can get you into some trouble, and what I had to say last night probably would have had some negative results if anyone in my office knew this blog existed and actually read it. Regardless, I stopped myself, verbally vented to the appropriate sources, got a good night's sleep, and regained my footing this morning.

So what exactly made me so furiously lose my cool yesterday? Well, let me try to retell this story in the most harmless way possible.

It wasn't the fact that a co-worker randomly felt the need to tell me that I shouldn't be so confident that the small lump in my armpit isn't cancer (even though the doctor said it wasn't and the medication he gave me shrunk it and relieved the pain), and it wasn't even the 10 minutes she later spent researching the worst case scenerios of what 'could be wrong with me' after I had to tell her I won't be in next Friday sinceI have to drive two hours away for an appointment, and she prodded for the reason why. I can handle those things, but you know what I can't handle? I can't handle when someone inconsiderably mentions something about your death (anywhere, let alone at work). And that is what sent me off the deep end.

I was sitting in my office trying to finish up some paperwork before my workday ended in 30 minutes when I heard this person strike up a conversation with some other co-workers up front. Per usual, I tried to block it out and let the conversation fade into the background, but the last thing she said was clear as day.

"The only way you can legally smoke pot is if you're dying of cancer or something."

Ouch. That stung... but I could handle it. It probably wasn't directed towards me anyway, and chances are she instantly remembered what I have been through and felt terrible, right? Wrong. The only thing true about that statement? She instantly remembered what I have been through and felt terrible. She scampered down the hallway, appeared in my doorway, and said:

"Sam, did your mom get to do that?"

My chest tightened. Did she seriously just ask me that?

"Did she get to do what?", I asked, giving her an escape from the conversation in hopes she'd just say, oh nevermind!

"Did she get to smoke marijuana when she was... you know... sick... and dying...?"

I miraculously shrugged it off and told her I didn't know, when inside I was cursing her existence and saying things that would force me to change my blog preferences to "warn readers this blog contains adult content."

That's when she decided to take it upon herself to WebMD my pelvic 'symptoms' and shout throughout the office how I could have tumors growing on my uterus, an inflamed bladder, ovarian cysts, etc. Talk about icing on the cake; I was on a sugar high.

It took everything in me not to cry right there. I was so offended. It wasn't what she said necessarily; it was the way she said it: like bringing up your death out of nowhere nonchalantly was no big deal and wouldn't upset me; like you were just any ol' person; like the fact that you may have been offered a chance to legally smoke was a perk of dying.

I spent parts of the night crying and ranting about how I wasn't going back to work. Both Dad and Tom told me it was time to stick up for myself in order to end the constant bullying and rude comments hurled my way almost daily. I was honest with them and admitted that I didn't think I could do it. In my every day life I am certainly not a pushover-- I speak my mind and wear my heart on my sleeve-- yet when I walk into this building I feel defeated. It's not always this bad, but the difficult days are beginning to outweigh the good ones, and it's taking a toll on me. I was honest with them... I'm not strong enough for this.

I woke up this morning with my stomach in knots. I wanted to call out sick, but I couldn't because we don't get any sick days, and my college loan bills won't pay themselves. So, I pulled it together, prepared to bite my tongue, and made my way in.

When she poked her head in my office to say good morning, she commented that I looked tired. I opened my mouth to speak my usual reply for when she negatively comments on my looks: yeah, I guess I am feeling pretty tired today, but instead, how I really felt came pouring out of my mouth unexpectedly.

I told her that no, I wasn't tired, I had actually been crying since I left work yesterday because of the things she said to me. I went on to say that I don't want anyone in the office talking about you or your death in that way, nor do I want anyone trying to diagnose me through random sites on the internet because it's not healthy to work myself up when I have an appointment in a week to find out what's going on for sure.

When my word vomit finally ceased, she hugged me and said she felt awful because her intention was never to upset me or be disrespectful. I figured that was the case, and I knew she would feel horrible (which in turn made me feel bad for calling her out on it, but I refused to let that show). I made sure we had an understanding, thanked her for the apology, and moved on to another topic.

I didn't do anything crazy like throw a chair down the hallway or push her against the wall in a chokehold until she cried like they do in the movies, but I still got my point across, and it felt great. I can't believe I found the courage to speak my mind to someone who has intimdated me for months (reacting in the heat of the moment sometimes has its benefits!).

I texted Dad to thank him for encouraging me to brave. He was really proud of me. He wrote back, "Good thing you stood up to her because I was about to drive up there and do it myself! You're still my baby." It's true, I am his little girl and always will be-- but at least now around the office, I feel like I am one heck of a powerful woman. Go me!

Love,

Sami

And the Winner Is...

Dear Mom,

There is a battle going on between my mind and my body, and-- surprise, surprise!-- my mind is winning. I know you're supposed to "listen to your body" to know when something is wrong with it, but my head is stronger lately.

It all started because I'm having a weird, pressure-like feeling off and on in my pelvis. It's off when I'm doing things like watching a movie, talking on the phone, or finishing a project at work, and it's on when I read about the declining health of a blogging buddy or when I start worrying about my own health. So is this pain in my head? Possibly. But I just can't risk it.

After weeks of paranoia, I read Dee's blog post and decided to finally call my doctor's office to make an appointment to see Dr. S. Her next opening is on the 25th, so I have two weeks until I sit awkwardly in a johnny that's made for a 300 pound giant on the loud, crinkly paper that covers the examination table in front of the very same woman that told you you had ovarian cancer. How exciting! But at least I took the step and made the appointment. No matter the outcome, it's a step in the right direction and one appointment closer to a healthier body-- and mind. Both are equally important!

Writing an e-mail to Carly later this morning caused me to break into sobs at work. Oh yes, AT WORK. Good thing that's not at all embarassing. Luckily, it was only me and my fabulous third-mom-esque coworker there, and she let me pour my guts out to her. I think it's no coincidence that somehow the right person always shows up in my life at just the right second I need them. After having one of those days this week that somehow didn't force me into a fit of tears, I knew I was bound to let them out eventually. I mean, I could have done without it happening between the work hours of 8-5, but it was a much needed, healthy cry all the same. Afterward, I was able to compose myself and finish my e-mail to Carly.

Besides the fact that I was writing to her about your final moments on Earth, I think what made me finally have the breakdown that I needed stemmed from the friendship that has flourished between her and me. I feel like I can tell her absolutely anything, and I have. If it weren't for our friendship and constant exchange of e-mails (or great American novels, as we call them), I wouldn't have felt comfortable enough to share those stories, cry those tears, and ultimately end my day absolutely beaming. I am so thankful to her.

So, along with my morning breakfast, I had a cup of tears, and it made me realize one thing...

Milk isn't the only thing that does a body good!

Happy weekend!
Sami