July 13, 2010

Thoughts from a hospital bed

Still no journal and still lots ot thoughts so here I am again.
 
What bittersweetness has been the last few days.  I don't think the human brain (especially mine apparenty!) was made to handle such contradicting thoughts.  Only God can help me come to terms with all the things that can simultaneously coexist in my head right now.  I don't want to speak like someone expecting to die, but when you are brought face to face with that possibility there are certain things that happen.  I don't want to play on emotions or be dramatic, but suddenly I have this great desire to be an open person, not to be hiding things and not to leave things unsaid.  This is not out of fear, but rather out of a great gushing from within me.
 
James and I have had much opportunity for conversations from my hospital bed and these talks have been so very meaningful for the both of us.  One thing that James and has said over and over again, is that an event like this acts like a plough that comes and stirs up the soil of your life, and in that ploughing, you get to find out what has been there all this time, or the different things that have been growing (other than tumors!).  In one sense, I feel like I have been given a great gift.  How often have we heard people ponder the qeustion, "What would you do if you knew that you had X number of months/years to live?"  Whatever the outcome of this whole thing is, I feel like I have really had the chance to ponder that question, and the seeds this plough has turned up have been very precious to me. 
 
1) I am so proud of myself.  I'm not trying to be vain, but I don't have any resonant feelings of having wasted any of my twenty six years. As cliche as it sounds I wouldn't change anything.  I am so happy with James and I am a very proud mother.  I am happy that I have gone to school and that I love nutrition and that I can speak Chinese.  I am happy that I have loved James and the boys with all my heart without clinging desparately to them.   I am so proud of the boys and I am so pround of James.  They fill my heart with joy like nothing else.  If anything happens to me I have no doubt that they'll have the best father in the world and I think I have the smartest, cutest boys on the planet. 
 
2) I am so happy for my friends, family and friendships.  I am happy for having loved people and been open with them, for hearing other people's stories and appreciating them for their own unique value.
 
3) I really love the Chinese people that I have come to know.  There is a certain lack of fear that exists in them that we do not see in North Americans.  I don't know how to explain it, but there is this expected inevitability that in your life you will eat bitter things, and when that happens, all you can do it eat it.  None of my Chinese friends have shied away from the strength of emotion that I have even been scared of in myself.  They hold my hands (literally), they have prayed and spoken words of encouragement.
 
4) I am so happy that I have been saved from a meaningless life apart from God.  He fills my days with beauty, with purpose, with life.
 
5) While we are writing a list, I might as well as add that my Dad is also scheduled for an angiogram sometime in the next week and my Mom recently had an MRI.  When it rains it pours!
 
It is awfully strange to have these sensations combined with a definite sense of limited mental ability.  We don't really know if it is the medications or the tumor, but I have very limited concentration.  Reading and concentration is difficult (such as looking at anything, thinking, walking), but I also have another day to kill until the doctor arrives to escort me back to Canada.  I have to sit still when I am normally used to being very active, both mentally and physically.  I could spend all my time watching movies, but right now that just seems like it would be a waste ot time.  James is being quite a trooper.  He is playing guitar for me for hours on end.
 
To sum it up, there is no way to sum up the way that I feel.  I battle boredom and a feeling of uselessness of all things.  I battle confusion and I feel intense gratefuleness at the same time.  What are humans if not complex?  I feel some anxiety for the boys, because I wonder what they will remember of this.  They say children adapt quickly, but as we saw with coming to China, Ari took a little longer than we expected.  At what point in thier childhood do we explain the Mommy had a brain tumor that could reappear?  Who knows?  Right now I am okay with not knowing.
 
This blog post is simultaneously scattered, dramatic, overdone and not enough... but none of these things on purpose.  I look forward to seeing many of you soon!
 
Love Jessica