I'm back.


Unfortunately...

I haven't written for lack of inspiration.
Also because of my fear of the truth seeping onto here.
It all becomes far more solid and less vague when it's in the written word.

My dreams have stopped.
It came abruptly. The last dream being a very sexual dream in which I turned her away, she stopped and asked why, and I responded with, "because you left me."
Then a few nights after that I had another dream which was mostly concerning my mom. But there came a point in which we were at some sort of party that my mom was having. And there, sitting on a couch was she. My mom offered her red wine with a smile. She declined it. She seemed sad. Very sad. She never looked up at either me or my mom.

That's about the last I've trully seen of her. Or in those kinds of dreams in any case. She's made a camio here and there, but it doesn't feel the same, at all.



I appreciate and thank all of you who had my mom in their thoughts and prayers.

The surgery did NOT go as expected.

The plan was to go inside, take out about half of her liver, close back up, and hope that that would remove the whole liver cancer ordeal. The liver would have grown back in time and every wrong would have been righted. Or so it seemed.
The procedure was a difficult one. And there was a 4% chance of death. To translate that percentage it: 4% = 4/100 = 1/25 = One out of twenty five patients die during this surgery.

The surgery was supposed to last 4 hours. At 2 and a half hours they called my father and I to meet with the doctor and that my mom had come out of surgery. This meant good and bad news. It was clear. The good was that she was out and alive. The bad was that obviously something had happened in those 2 and a half hours that was unexpected.
The doctor, who looked very down and frustrated sat us down. She said that things didn't go as she planned. We were expecting a small tumor on the right hand side of the liver the size of fingernail. When they opened up they looked around and to make sure took a sonagram of the liver directly. The tumor that was supposed to be the size of a fingernail was instead the size of a large walnut. It rests on an artery that goes to the heart. Also, there were two smaller tumors the size of a fingernail spread out in the center of the liver. And the last tumor they found was the size of her fist. And she's not a small woman. It was hidden behind the liver and under the diaphragm, which is very close to her liver, and behind a clip that was placed there in a previous surgery which hid the side of the tumor on previous scans they had done.
There was nothing she could do.
That was basically the whole liver taken over by cancer.
My dad was fighting back tears.
I've only seen my father cry twice.
So, the doctors had closed her up and told us to let her rest for about a month.
She wasn't allowed to do nearly anything.
No driving. No lifting of heavy objects (anything over a gallon). No bending over.

Now, we're back home.
The day after I came back home I started work. From 7:30 to about 4:30. I have to wake up at 5:45 to have time to get ready and get to work on time.
I've had more to do than usual, but it's gotta be done.

We're going to see if she can take brand spankin' new drugs and chemo or even experimental drugs. I mean, what else is there to do? She's also trying these plants from Mexico that supposedly have helped out alot of other people. The doctor said that she probably wasn't going to get cured anymore. That it probably would spread. But doctors have been wrong before right?





My dad did ask one more thing.
Something that I've only shared with one person.
I don't even know if my mom knows this...
"Exactly... I mean,... How... What is her life expectancy?"
The doctor shrugged. She said she wasn't sure.
"A year and a half maybe? Two years?" she responded, "It varies from person to person."






My life is a mess. I'm not content with it, with my life that is. By any means.

But what else can you do?














Oh and I got a skateboard. Weird.

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So, I'm in the waiting room right now...

Thank God for labtops, no? At least my dad, for mine.

I had forgotten how beautiful it is up here. Man! It really makes me hate Texas all over again... *throws tiny texas flag to the floor* Well, maybe not hate, per se, but I definitely miss everything up here; the trees, the farms, the accents, the pies!, EVERYTHING.

So, I've honestly been really worried.
Not semi-worried, but SERIOUSLY worried and nervous and concerned and whatever other synonyms you can add to that.
I haven't really shared that with anyone, because, well..., that's just how I am when it comes to my mom and stuff like this.

However

On the plane ride up here there was this girl that set in the window seat, so I sat next to her, with my mom in the aisle seat. She said "hi" when I was sitting down and pulled out a magazine to read. I thought she was around 14. When I got situated I looked over and noticed that the magazine she had was a Smallville magazine. We got to talking from there. Apparently Smallville and Roswell were her two favorite shows, she was a junior in highschool, and had gone to Plano, Texas to visit her cousin. She seemed pretty cool.

Last night as I lay there, trying to go to sleep after having prayed with my mom and dad, I thought and thought. Then I thought about how I shouldn't think. I remembered Pastor Lo along with so many other people telling me to think positive...

I burst out laughing.

My parents on the other bed asked me why I was laughing.

I told them what happened.

You see, not too long ago I had a conversation with Helena over flying. She mentioned how even though she knew and understood how flying was possible, that planes still weirded her out. How "it's still a giant metal tube flying in the air". So, as I rode on the plane I realized how right she actually was. And began to fear just a little. Not long after, the girl who I spoke with in the window seat, looked away from the window and back at me as we were nearing landing and said,
"You ever wonder how many people in here are imagining the plane catching fire and exploding or something?"
Panic struck me. I said,
"I don't think anyone really tries to think of that. I think everyone likes to keep thinking positively. ...like Peter Pan. As long as we have our 'happy thoughts', we'll keep flying." She giggled.

I laughed at the memory of that.

Of course!

It doesn't really matter what we think.
At the end of the flight what matter is the plane, physics, and the pilots.



So, I came to understand what trusting God is like...

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