Phase One

Today, they come to interview Daddy for placement and Jeff and I head to Knoxville for his MRI tomorrow morning. I really thought I was handling all this so well. Until last night when I went on facebook to post a writing link for my nephew and discovered he had unfriended me. The degree of hurt and anger I felt was waaaay disproportionate to the act.

I sat there in stunned silence, then turned to Jeff and announced it to him. Sure, my nephew is 17, sure, he never even friended his mom in the first place, but I'm supposed to be the cool aunt. Immediately, I fired off a msg to him to let him know that I now knew about this betrayal. Then because I like to compound my mistakes, I went to his little sister's page and posted that now she was my favorite from that family. An act that I justified to myself as a joke. Next, I sat and deliberated on all the things I could text and heavily guilt him with including the potential of my husband having a brain tumor and Mom's illness. At least, I can say I didn't make that call but I still stewed on it as I went to sleep.

This morning, I realize the facebook thing is less the problem than my feeling of loss and disconnect from so many things in my life. This little action represented something I could protest, go after, and potentially change. Because I remain so powerless about everything else. I am so angry my Mom is dying, furious that my Dad doesn't even know my name, and haven't even begun to deal with the possibility that Jeff's brain tumor might have returned.

 I realize we don't know about that last one but it doesn't look good. The survival rate drops from 62% to 52% between ten and twenty years survival for a chordoma. He is in year 14. This is not a fact, I've shared with Jeff. Does that mean this is what we are dealing with? No, but it does mean there is a good possibility we have another fight in front of us. Yesterday, I said to Jeff about his double vision, "I'm sure this will turn out to be fine." He replied, "That's what we thought about your mother." The response made my stomach twist into a knot that won't fully release until we know he is not growing potential death in his head.