Getting Ready for Oz

[serotoninjunky]

We are all pretty psyched about our vacation, starting on Saturday. We've gone from disbelief, to excited, and every other emotion I can think of. Today I've been on an extreme obsessive packing/organizing trip. It's ok - I need to do that. Everyone in my family always knows that the last few days before we leave for any kind of trip, mom is tripping about all the details. The last time we went somewhere was last summer to Cleveland - and it was the same thing: lists everywhere, sleepless nights, laundry, ironing, not eating, obsessing. I know it's overkill sometimes, but I honestly cannot help myself. If I don't re-think everything at least 10 times, I'll go nuts. This trip in particular is very important to me because it's the first time in years that we will all be together as a family - well, minus the dogs. Anyway - like I said, I spent the day obsessing; but in the back of my mind for the past 2 weeks (well, for the past 3 years, actually) is JoAnn. She had a chemo treatment on Tuesday, and then her Neulasta shot on Wednesday. The chemo is bad enough, but she says the Neulasta really makes her sick. And now they're getting her ready for radiation. New tumors, this time in the spinal area. It's in her bones now, and I guess the lung tumors are increasing in size as well. See how it is? The size of my cranium is not large enough to deal with all the data zipping around in there right now. I wish I could surgically section off all the stuff and assign certain thinking tasks to other people. But like the battery bunny - it just keeps going and going a going. The size of my heart never ceases to amaze me, however. Because even with the increasingly devastating situation with JoAnn, my heart is also feeling excitement and happiness about the coming vacation. So tonight after I finally put my "to-do" list down for the night, I sat here and read my e-mail, checked out Tristans stuff on LJ, played a couple hands of "Spider"; and started crying. I just want to go down there, wrap my arms around her big huggable hairless body, carry her out to my car and drive her up here and take her with me. God I love her. At some point over the last year I really finally gave up believing that she could somehow survive this horrible monster. And now I'm just left with wondering how in bloody hell am I ever going to live without her. I just don't know what to do. How incredibly selfish of me. But when I let my mind wander to that time in the not-to-distant future when her incredibly beautiful body will be reduced to ashes; and when that laughing voice and telepathic language we have together is gone - it just seems impossible. I mean - my whole fucking life I've loved this person. I remember very little of my life before I first met her, in 1965. What will it be like? Everything will be so different. So strange.

So at this time, I am feeling quite bi-polar - only problem is, I'm jumping from pole to pole every 1/2 hour or so. That can't be good. Oh well, thanks for reading.