Up Up Up

Day 2 and 3 after hearing the news I had cancer were rather more blurred. I talked to Wayne several times on the phone, but don't remember specifics of any conversation. I don't think we talked much about the cancer itself. I asked him if it was okay again... You see his first wife had been diagnosed with MS just months after they were married, and it essentially ended the marriage because she shut him out and gave up. Obviously, my diagnosis is not nearly as bad, but I didn't want him to feel saddled to another sick person... He said he wanted to head up to heaven and beat someone up.

My mood was at odds with the venue. My family took a hike and visited the nearby visitors center, where I took many pictures of the butterflies. After breakfast I had also gone to find a spot in the meadow to sit and think on my own. I snapped lots of pictures of the flowers and the butterflies and other insects... I heard a critter, probably some sort of rodent, and I determined to remain still and silent as long as I could to try and capture the creature in my lens.

 

I was having fantasies of leaving civilization for the woods and becoming a nature photographer. Seeking out critters of all sorts for the creation of pretty postcards. It was a perfect plan... and I was about to capture this rodent, or rabbit, or pica or whatever it was, on film.
Then my mom walked up behind me and the rodent made a blurred run for some cover. I think my mom was a little spooked, but I could tell from her voice she was concerned for me. Every time they looked at me, I could see it. They were gauging my reaction and my emotional state. I had to plaster a smile, or at least not frown or cry... I had to make them feel better.

I'm sure I could fall apart in front of them, they are family, but I've never done that. I take care of others. I always try to help others, make sure they are comfortable, find out what needs to be done and do it for them... That's how I cope when those I love are hurting. I've hidden my own hurts from most of the world, and just kept going. Wayne is one of the few people I've let see me cry, or would feel comfortable just falling apart in front of him. I sent him a text to let him know that, and focused on sleeping as my family traveled in the car to North Little Rock, where we stayed an extra night.

North Little Rock is like my childhood home. As a military brat, we never stayed any where long, but we always came back to Arkansas - for visits, to live between deployments, to bury our dead, and this time to celebrate new beginnings. And as we stopped at a sonic, I tried not to think of it as a place where some of my hopes and dreams died. Saturday morning, on the first crop duster plane, there was a child screaming bloody murder a few rows behind me... and I started to cry because I fear that child will never be my own. I mean, seriously, who wants a screaming child?

I felt like I was mourning something - but how can I grieve for something that never was. How did biology get me like this? For two decades I had decided to be the one who didn't have kids, who didn't have a husband, and who was content with herself. For some months I had managed to live that way... and then hope appeared in the form of Wayne. And now hope was dying... all these thoughts swirled in my mind and I knew I needed to rise above them - just as the plane rose above the clouds. So I pulled out my trusty iPod and put on music to lift me out of the bad mood... and closed my eyes... and willed myself to sleep until the plane landed.

This helped lighten my mood, so by the time the seemingly interminable hours of travel had passed, and I saw Wayne at the bottom of the escalator, I was able to control myself and keep from sprinting to him. This was good, since I would have taken out an entire family in the process (don't these people know to stand to the right so people can pass on the left? noobs). Seeing him, standing there, solid... holding me... hugging me, kissing me... I knew he was telling me the truth. I knew he would be with me through this, and no matter what size our future family would be, we would be family. And I knew everything would be okay. The stress started a slow leak, deflating the balloon that had grown in the pit of my stomach.