More Rain Before The Rainbow…

pink ribbon

Uh, hey guys…I, uh, well…*looking down, hands behind back, kicking dirt*

Fuck it.

My Mom was diagnosed with terminal Breast Cancer that had metastasized to her lungs at age 55 in 2006, and she passed away at age 59 in 2009. And now her Mom, my Maternal Grandmother, has been diagnosed with Breast Cancer this week at age 83.

I HATE CANCER. I FUCKING HATE CANCER. ESPECIALLY BREAST CANCER.

Both my Mother and Grandmother were cigarette smokers and both diagnosed after age 50, but Dr. Angel still thinks I should be tested for the BRCA gene. Regardless of the presence of the BRCA gene, I am still at higher risk of Breast Cancer given my family history.

But that is really far from my mind right now. My Grandma is my last living grandparent. We have a close relationship. She still lives with my Dad and helps my sister run our family daycare. Grandma and I stuck together during my Mom’s illness–I didn’t talk to my Dad for 2 years, though I have since forgiven him and seen a change in him that lets me know that he has been exorcised of his demons and won’t do me any more harm in his lifetime. My sister is a different story…we have a volatile relationship and she is bittersweet…sentimental one moment and heartless the next…probably the most fickle human being I’ve ever known. My Grandma stood by me during my Mother’s illness, while my Dad and Sister picked me apart as their grief manifested as rage. Grandma and I went to church and prayed for those assh*les to wisen up and stop being miserable and vomiting their misery onto everyone else. I really believe that praying for them to gain wisdom and compassion has manifested change in both of them, but I still don’t trust my sister–I’ve been screwed over too many times.

I wept to the social worker during my Mom’s illness. I was having a complete mental breakdown because I had had this vision of my family coming together and supporting each other and lifting my Mom up in her time of need…and what happened was a Jerry Springer episode gone horribly wrong. I was treated as an outsider, as I had been living in Hawaii for several years, and ultimately I became the target of all my Dad’s and my Sister’s anguish. The social worker said that terminal illness causes one of two outcomes in families: it either brings them together or tears them apart. And there’s nothing I could do, except try to support my Mom–and they made it VERY hard for me to do that. I had put all this behind me and moved on to have healthier relationships with my Dad and Sister, but I’m having PTSD now…my Grandma is going to die the same way as my Mother did in our family home…I can’t help but harken back to those dark days…and after 2013 has beaten me to a pulp with marriage difficulties, chronic illness + health crisis, 2 miscarriages, Infertility…I’m afraid that I don’t have the strength to endure going 10 rounds with my family if they decide to regress and act the way they did during my Mom’s illness…I’m literally sick to my stomach just thinking about it.

I am very active with Susan G. Komen for the Cure and I fundraise for a memorial team in my Mother’s memory. It’s cathartic for me, to feel that in some way I am fighting this disease that will ultimately claim the two most important women in my life. And when somebody asks me what they can do, all I can say is “fight for a cure“.

In other news, I’m currently in the midst of IUI #2. But I know you’ll forgive me if I don’t feel like talking about it. In fact, I don’t feel like talking at all. I love you guys, and I’ll be keeping up with you, but if I post and comment less consistently it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I care too much. XO

**Edit**I’d like to add that I’m relieved to have my Mr. MLACS at home with me as of yesterday–I didn’t have him when I went through this ordeal with my Mom and he is a great source of comfort and stability for me. I’m still hopeful that I will be able to introduce my Grandma to our rainbow before she leaves this world. Also, I talked to my friend who’s dating Dr. Angel’s son (she intro’d me to Dr. Angel) and told her I was overwhelmed by anxiety and depression post IUI #1. So I’m sure it was no coincidence that Dr. Angel pulled me aside today after Mr. MLACS walked out of the office and said “I forgot to mention that the hormones can cause or amplify any issues like depression or anxiety, perhaps you’ve experienced some of this?” to which I replied “Oh. Well yes I have.” And Dr. Angel said “Well that’s normal and if you need to talk please come and see me.” He really is my Angel, this guy. My cat slept on my head last night and is currently cuddled next to my butt on the couch–he missed me for the 36 hours I was away, and I missed him too–he is definitely my baby. I know I sounded morose in the above paragraphs, and part of me is–but the better part of me is still optimistic and grateful. XOXO