Car Conversations

Jalen tends to become verbose whenever we're in the car. As soon as we picked up RJ, he immediately asked: "How was your life at school today?" The question is so typical of Jalen in his current linguistic prowess. I laughed, recognizing the awkwardness (in my “mature” brain) of the question while realizing that it made perfect sense. The question felt right. I'll expound further on this revelation later.
The same car ride also heralded the coining of a new term. Hyernga! According to Jalen, this is the sound people make when pushing or pulling a heavy object. Other fun lines from the brotherly conversation went like this:
RJ: Jalen, you're annoying.
Jalen: No, I'm not.
RJ: Yes, you are.
Jalen: No, Kuya, I'm awesome. You think I'm awesome! (He declaimed the latter most emphatically.)

Ramon is his usual morose self. His opening statement as soon as he gets home is the inevitable "I have so much to do." In all his professional working years, this has been his customary lament. I wish I had a dollar for every time he voiced this sentiment. He accords all events, regardless of magnitude, the same intense level of undisguised frustration.

Pain Part Deux

The pain has abated and is manageable this morning. Pain medication has become a lamentable part of my everyday life. I suppose I ought to be grateful that I am not nauseated at least. Horrific doesn't even begin to describe what it's like when these two miseries simultaneously descend upon me.
My hands and feet continue to have numbness and tingling, making it difficult to walk and perform even the most menial task.

Spending a lazy Saturday at home. Ramon is at our Whittier house painting. We've decided to do major renovations prior to moving back in. I am unable to lend him any assistance so he decided to hire a couple of workers to help him. He tends to give in to impulsive decisions (couldn't be more diametrically opposed to my pragmatic and let's-plan-everything-down-to-the-last-detail attitude). His lofty visions worry me but I must admit that he has never, ever let me down. He has a lot of projects lined up but I know he will complete them all. Despite the worrisome, nail-biting, tear-my-hair-out (what little I have left), hold-my-tongue moments in between.

Pain

Sometimes the physical pain is unbearable. Today the pain is threatening to overwhelm me. My hands and feet are numb and painful. My ribs feel achy and sore, like someone had punched me in the chest. The mere act of taking a deep breath brings on a spasm of pain. Coughing is near impossible and brings on a fresh round of indescribable agony.

Jalen had noticed me limping and asked if my feet were hurting. I told him yes but did not elaborate. I sought to reassure him. The look of worry on his face is more than I could bear. He made himself breakfast, something that had become a daily ritual for him. He learned how to cook eggs, bacon and ham. His level of maturity and independence is both oddly reassuring and disconcerting. A child of eight should have a mom taking care of him. The role reversal in our instance is one I have learned to simultaneously accept and grapple with. He has the sweetest disposition. He is so young and vulnerable; it tears me apart to see him forced into a grown up role as a consequence of my illness.

I get so angry. Angry that my children and husband should suffer. Angry at fate for having reduced me to such a pitiable state. Angry at others who take their lives and health for granted. Angry at those who live their lives without the constant fear and worry that plague mine. Angry at myself for allowing this to cripple me. Angry at life for stubbornly keeping its pace despite my pain. How is it that life goes on when mine has undergone such a cataclysmic transformation?

My feelings understandably vacillate between extreme anger and despondency. Some days the effort to maintain a lighthearted mien becomes a torturous endeavor. Yet how could I allow others to see my pain? How can I ever make anyone realize the depth of my despair? I cry with incessant worry and feelings of hopelessness. Seems like all I ever do is worry about the future, one that possibly precludes me. Who will care for my children, guide them, protect them, and teach them? Who will RJ turn to for advice? Who will Jalen turn to when he's hurt or upset?

I suppose I am inherently selfish, at least in reference to my children. I want to be around to raise them. I want to witness and experience those precious life milestones with them. As their mom, celebrating these events ought to be my exclusive privilege. Mine.

Enough rhetoric.

End rant.

Message on a grease board

Two days in a row this week Jalen forgot his glasses. Without them, he can't see the board at school all that well. By the second transgression, I got really exasperated and my tone doubtless conveyed it. I had written this note on our grease board as a reminder for him. I thought it was so sweet that he responded in what you could tell was an apologetic tone. So I simply had to respond.

Starting a blog

Okay, so I need a place to rant without needing to be polite or worry about what other people might think, or heaven forbid, hurt their feelings. My journal tends to disappear at the most inconvenient times, just when I want to sit down to write. I figured I'm almost literally attached to my computer and as long as my internet service holds, I would have an avenue whereby I could express my self. Self-expression is liberating and what better way than the written word.
Notice the rambling fashion in which I write. Really, no rhyme or reason and truly, none intended. This blog is for sheer self-fulfillment.