Beyond the Limit of Darkness and Light

The cancer has entered the fluids around her brain and her spine.  As far as treatments are concerned, there’s nothing more that they can do to help her.  He said that they would try some things in an effort to restore the feeling in her legs and get her walking again, but the fact of the matter is that she’s dying. He has given her three to six months left to live.

I found out all of this today, when I called her at around 11:00.  Her co-worker, David Cho, is taking me out for lunch before he heads back to Texas.  I called her to ask where we should eat, because I’ve never been good at deciding that kind of thing.  When I called, she had just finished her appointment with her doctor... She’s so scared.  Why wouldn’t she be, right?

From the way things were going we were sure that she was getting better, that the chemo was working!  I had thought that all of these CT scans and meetings with her oncologist were meant to catch this kind of thing before it happened!  Mom says that this sudden change was exactly that, sudden.  She makes it sound as though there was no way they could have prevented it.

It can be argued that had she started getting regular colonoscopies that they could have caught it and prevented this from happening and that would definitely be a valid point.  We know that colon cancer runs in the family, so she had more reason than most to get herself checked out, like my uncle does.  But you really don’t worry about that kind of thing until it’s pounding at your door.

Right now, I don’t feel much of anything.  I think that I’m actually in denial or something, because even after hearing her tell me all of this, I have this feeling of…hope? Or maybe…relief?  I know that I should be beside myself with grief, that I should be devastated, or overcome with anxiety.  But I’m not feeling any of those things.  I’m not sure at all what I’m feeling.

The entire time that she’s been sick, I’ve been worrying over what I was going to do if things took a turn for the worse.  I’ve lived my life far too irresponsibly.  Instead of taking my mom for granted, living off of her, I should have been learning from her.  I should have been using her for emotional support while I made a real life for myself.  But I didn’t.  And now look where I am.  My wastrel ways and her hospital bills have drained what savings we had.  I’ve never held a job and I know very little about taking care of myself.  I have no idea how to pay bills, how to do taxes, I’m not even sure I remember how to fucking drive.  When Mom dies, I’m going to be totally fucked.  What am I saying?  I’m already totally fucked.  I’ve never lived completely alone before.

I have a feeling that I can make it through this, that maybe I can save myself. I guess I have to have that kind of hope right now, though.  What else can I do, but hope that I’ll be alright, that I have it in me to persevere?  I’m 36 years old; responsibility is long overdue.

How many dead men do you see?

Tongue turned blue and face gone grey

Watch them as they twist and sway

The first one killed the butcher man

Then cooked him in the frying pan

Served him to his hungry guests

And gave them seconds on request

The next one with his smile and sweets

Stole poor children off the streets

To men who dressed unsavory

He sold them into slavery

Breaking into a home at night

The thief he had a nasty fright

Filled his foolish head with ale

Woke in the morn in the county jail

The artist with his daunting skill

Tried his hand at painting bills

But caught in rain he was undone

When the ink he’d use did start to run

With promises of great return

Taking gold he did not earn

Bundled it up out of sight

Quietly slipped off into night

Three houses into ashes burned

The sheriff with no place to turn

Did spy a stranger to his town

Locked him up and beat him down

Dead men, dead men swinging in a tree

How many dead men do you see?

Six feet long and six men wide