Tears, Tears and More Tears

October 27
 Did I mention to you that I'm not an overly emotional person?  Well, I guess that isn't entirely true.  I do have emotions.  Strong ones.  I just don't usually do sad.  It is a bit of a problem really, you see, my go to negative emotion is anger.  If I am sad, disappointed, shocked, dismayed, anything negative, I usually find a way to turn those feelings into good old anger.  Yup, lame, I know, but it's true.  I have been working on this for years.  Angry Mum is probably an image all my kids can conjure up without too much trouble. Big things don't usually make me angry though.  My anger is usually born of things like, dishes in the sink, disagreements amongst our little brood, a lost shoe, stuff like that.  So as far as my cancer is concerned, there hasn't been any anger. There hadn't been too much sadness on my part either. Some tears, mostly related to fear I would say.  Things like, "If I die, who will help Millie pick out her wedding dress?" haunt me every now and then , but mostly I have been positive. Positive I will survive, for sure, but just positive overall.  I have looked for the blessings in all of this and have found them, because they are so many-  innumerable really.  Last week I went to see Dr. President.  It is  always good to see him because even though the majority of our visit focuses on my healing process, we talk about other things too; our families, the stake events that are happening, books, the list goes on.  All of that is smattered in between the usual doctor stuff.  (Another blessing, right?)  Anyhow, last week when I visited him he shared with me something I have heard before, but never much considered, he said, "You're positive attitude is one of the reasons you are healing so well, so quickly and so thoroughly."  He said patients with positive attitudes in all of the medical world fare far better than those who are pessimistic.  This only reaffirmed my desire to focus on those blessings I am receiving during this trial.
I have been taking Tamoxifen for about three weeks and haven't felt any of the horrid side effects some experience. I have been awoken a few nights with night sweats and have felt a little nauseated, but it's nothing I can't handle. Then came Thursday. I felt tired all day, but more than tired, I felt sad.  That kind of sad you can't get out from under. Suzie took one look at me when I arrived at work and asked me if I felt okay.  Later in the morning Suzie's husband Brent stopped by to bring her lunch.  He too inquired.  Brent always knows when something is up.   I stayed late at work hoping to get a bunch of student work graded and helping some students with a writing assignment that was due the next day.  By the time I got home, it was close to 4:30. Doug beat me home by a few minutes.  I knew this because when I walked through the door I could hear the sounds of glasses being placed in the dishwasher from the morning's breakfast and the cats were still crying for food..  Normally I would make my way to the kitchen and we would talk about the day's events, but I couldn't bring myself to go to him.  I walked straight to the back of the house, dropped my bags and fell onto our bed.  I didn't even bother to take off my shoes. Immediately,  the tears came.  I don't even really know what I was crying about.  Everything I guess.  I cried about my body and the loss I felt there.  I cried about getting older.  I cried about my kids being older too, and how I missed those days of chaos when they were all young.  I cried because I missed my little dog Friedo.  Mostly though, I cried because I missed my mom and dad.  Poor Doug came back to the bedroom and found me, my face, and hair soaked with  tears.  I was crying so hard I was doing that weird breathing thing that little kids do when they cry.  It wasn't pretty, I'm sure.  He knew better than to ask me what was wrong so he just sat beside me and listed to me shudder and weep.  Then a remarkable thing happened. As I lay there desperately missing my parents I had an epiphany. Really I did.  You see, in my faith we believe that after we die we will be with our family again.  This is one of the reasons Latter Day Saints do Temple work.  We are taught that our families can, and though our efforts, will be together forever. This is something I have believed since joining the church.  But believing and knowing are a little bit different, aren't they?   As I lie there sobbing the most peaceful  feeling came over me assuring me that I will see my parents again and  that they are aware of my circumstances now.  It was exquisite. The tears still came and missing them still pained me, but suddenly I knew, not believed, but knew, I will be with my parents again.  Further I understood that this truth applies to my little family and that one day we will all be together again.
I have to tell you that cry felt so dang good.  It is the first time since this whole thing started that I cried tears of sadness. Those tears served as a sort of catharsis.  After the release of all that sadness a more welcome emotion flooded over me. One that I have felt throughout my journey-  Gratitude.