Urgent Care

When you are diagnosed with any life threatening condition, or even think you have a condition- you feel the sense of urgency.

Urgency to live.

Urgency to love.

Urgency to get things in order.


Or to get the chaos managed in a semblance of well- managed chaos. The months leading up to my surgery were filled with the urgency. After Lily was diagnosed, urgency to fill our lives with as many memories as possible. Living with LFS, knowing life is short- being reminded by every lump, every treatment how impermanent we all are.

Did I want to leave my children memories of me sitting at the computer? No. So the book goes unwritten. The stories are written in memories.

Did I want my husband to regret the times away? No. So we feign normal. We fall back into routine, with prescheduled reminders of how quickly it all will change. Not CAN change. It WILL change. We don't know when or how. So we urgently persist. We urgently live.

You pray for normal. Then normal shwacks you upside the head- burying you under your new normal with normal normal on top. It comes in the form of a kitchen full of maggots, car trouble, garage trouble, health trouble. Kid trouble. Politics trouble. And my soulmate, my better half reminds me- this is normal. Deal with it. He leaves early every morning- his escape to another normal- with hundreds of other normal problems. Urgent in his world is very different. Much bigger problems. Just as it isn't always noticed when you do a good job, when others don't do theirs- it trickles down. It is noticed. In the form of maggots and brokenness and trouble. So you triage. The squeaky wheels get the oil. Unfortunately there is far too much squeaking and not enough oiling.

Phillip has been complaining of headaches. Then he had bloody noses. Kiera's back is bothering her. They both have MRIs scheduled, which is a task in and of itself. Which reminds me we are due to check on Bella's arm. Which reminds me I am due for scans. Lily always has something- but for the moment is the least urgent of them all. When things move fast, it is scary- things are rolling along and we are hoping to be dealing with normal stuff.

When a friend asks which day is busiest, she'd like to bring us dinner- I gratefully say any day is fine- truly- Thursdays are traditionally take out or leftovers if there are any. I am grateful when she brings dinner on Thursday. I think the kids are almost through the Costco sized Ramen. Which I keep telling them isn't real food and we need to go over some basics. But then something urgently needs my attention and well, you know, normal.

When Phil texts from work on Friday that a good friend is in town, do I want to meet up and maybe stay in town? My gut reaction is- dear God I am so fucking tired and I'm pretty sure I will be no fun. But I say yes, because you know- urgency, we don't get many nights out- the big kids are working, the littles want nothing more than to eat pizza while watching tv- so yes, yes I want to do something normal.  And then your very good friend meets up for a hug and hands over a key to a hotel room and sends you on your way to dinner with promises to meet up later for a drink. So you have an incredibly lovely dinner with your amazing husband and you remember when this was somewhat of a normal thing and I am so incredibly grateful for those somewhat normal times and the urgency we had to have them. I am grateful for the wonderful friends who continue to support us knowing we really mean it when we say we owe them and also know the debts will probably go unpaid.

It was a great reminder that self-care is urgent care. Years ago I was running ragged trying to get the nonprofit living LFS in order, not wanting anyone to feel the loneliness of LFS if it could be avoided. Friends rallied to my side when tumors reared. Urged me to take care of myself and when I wouldn't, made sure they did. Each one knowing urgently how much self care I needed because they too urgently needed care. I hate not being able to be the friend I want to be. It gets lonely. The self-care thing. Sometimes the positive side is elusive. I am so grateful for the friends who have become family. Who check in and keep me from checking out. I am grateful for my kids who remind me hourly what normal is and daily what exceptional is.

So I stack our appointments, to limit hospital time where we can(flu anyone? no thank you) for March 5th.  I'll wait in the chemo bay while the bigs get scanned and meet with my oncologist. My scans and Bella's scan will pend appointments and urgency. One shark at a time. Hopefully they are just fish. Then we keep swimming- for now I am Grateful for the boat and that I can wave to friends nearby even if we aren't always in the same boat.