What You Pay To Ride The Bus
When my mother was 36, with 4 children to raise, she lost a breast to cancer.
A few years ago she discovered a lump in her remaining breast and, sure enough, it was cancer. (I posted here about ringing the hated bell for the Salvation Army and silently yelling at the heavens, "If I'm going to get cancer anyway, give me one good reason why I shouldn't smoke". When I looked back down from my bitter prayer, My Oldest was walking across the parking lot, waving at me.)
A couple of days ago she went to the hospital. She had some fluid on her lungs she needed to have drained. (Not real sure how this was discovered or what her symptoms were.) Got a call from her while I was at work last night. It came up as Little Sister's number, so I answered it expecting, "Have you heard anything from Mom?". But instead I got, "John, this is your mother." She proceeded to tell me that they had drained the fluid and it had given her considerably more comfort. She also told me that they had discovered what the doctor was 95% sure, based on his many years in medicine, was cancer.
In her stomach.
As I often do in "these situations" I continued the conversation with her, keeping my emotions in check. Mostly. When our phone call ended and I put my phone away, I ducked behind the display of fresh xmas trees and cried like a little bitch. Kinda like how I'm doing right now.
It's not that my mother is mortal. I knew that. Even Chuck Norris is going to die some day. (ADD sidenote, did you know he's fuckin' 73 years old?!) And it's not that this news came during The Holidays. Anybody that's ever read this journal with any kind of regularity knows I'm not exactly a big fan of The Holidays. Fuck 'em. I'm more a Halloween, St. Paddy's Day, Cinco De Mayo, 4th of July kind of guy.
It's just that for my entire life I've always been infuriated by what I perceive as injustice or unfairness. Can't fucking stand bullying, in any way shape or form. Aside from hockey. And while my mother has lived her entire life without hurting a soul or fucking anybody over, cancer has seen fit to fuck with her. Not once, but thrice. When they initially told me there were some spots on her liver I thought, "Her liver??? Are you fucking kidding me???!" Last year she took a sip of My Nephew, Screech's Guinness. That accounts for her entire lifetime alcoholic intake. A sip of Guinness.
Growing up I attended services at a fairly fundamentalist Baptist church. Not quite as bad as WBC, but not as far as they would have you believe. I was raised to believe that if you went to church, prayed, asked for forgiveness for whatever sins you accidentally committed (LOL), and had faith that Jesus died for your sins and God was gonna give you some sweet digs for all eternity when you left this mortal coil, than He would take care of you.
Over the years Logic has molded me into more of an agnostic than a Christian. I retained a certain faith, but I no longer believed that Whoever Is In Charge gave two fucks whether you called Him God, Allah, Buddah, or Davey Nightfish.
Now, honestly, I no longer have even that. Life is just too fucking random and arbitrary to believe that there is any divine power ruling over shit, guiding us where he thinks we need to be. Sure, it will always be amazing to me how sperm and an egg creates a Life. Or how an acorn grows into an oak. Or how the Earth's rotation and gravity prevents us all from flying off this rock into oblivion.
But an omnipotent being who loves us and cares about what happens to us?
Yeah. Sure. Whatever.
Edit: If you read this, please limit your comments to LiveJournal. No Facebook. My Nephew, The Boy, is running The Philadelphia Marathon tomorrow and he has not yet been told about my mother. It would completely devastate him and he would be unable to accomplish what he's been training for all year. Thanks.)
A few years ago she discovered a lump in her remaining breast and, sure enough, it was cancer. (I posted here about ringing the hated bell for the Salvation Army and silently yelling at the heavens, "If I'm going to get cancer anyway, give me one good reason why I shouldn't smoke". When I looked back down from my bitter prayer, My Oldest was walking across the parking lot, waving at me.)
A couple of days ago she went to the hospital. She had some fluid on her lungs she needed to have drained. (Not real sure how this was discovered or what her symptoms were.) Got a call from her while I was at work last night. It came up as Little Sister's number, so I answered it expecting, "Have you heard anything from Mom?". But instead I got, "John, this is your mother." She proceeded to tell me that they had drained the fluid and it had given her considerably more comfort. She also told me that they had discovered what the doctor was 95% sure, based on his many years in medicine, was cancer.
In her stomach.
As I often do in "these situations" I continued the conversation with her, keeping my emotions in check. Mostly. When our phone call ended and I put my phone away, I ducked behind the display of fresh xmas trees and cried like a little bitch. Kinda like how I'm doing right now.
It's not that my mother is mortal. I knew that. Even Chuck Norris is going to die some day. (ADD sidenote, did you know he's fuckin' 73 years old?!) And it's not that this news came during The Holidays. Anybody that's ever read this journal with any kind of regularity knows I'm not exactly a big fan of The Holidays. Fuck 'em. I'm more a Halloween, St. Paddy's Day, Cinco De Mayo, 4th of July kind of guy.
It's just that for my entire life I've always been infuriated by what I perceive as injustice or unfairness. Can't fucking stand bullying, in any way shape or form. Aside from hockey. And while my mother has lived her entire life without hurting a soul or fucking anybody over, cancer has seen fit to fuck with her. Not once, but thrice. When they initially told me there were some spots on her liver I thought, "Her liver??? Are you fucking kidding me???!" Last year she took a sip of My Nephew, Screech's Guinness. That accounts for her entire lifetime alcoholic intake. A sip of Guinness.
Growing up I attended services at a fairly fundamentalist Baptist church. Not quite as bad as WBC, but not as far as they would have you believe. I was raised to believe that if you went to church, prayed, asked for forgiveness for whatever sins you accidentally committed (LOL), and had faith that Jesus died for your sins and God was gonna give you some sweet digs for all eternity when you left this mortal coil, than He would take care of you.
Over the years Logic has molded me into more of an agnostic than a Christian. I retained a certain faith, but I no longer believed that Whoever Is In Charge gave two fucks whether you called Him God, Allah, Buddah, or Davey Nightfish.
Now, honestly, I no longer have even that. Life is just too fucking random and arbitrary to believe that there is any divine power ruling over shit, guiding us where he thinks we need to be. Sure, it will always be amazing to me how sperm and an egg creates a Life. Or how an acorn grows into an oak. Or how the Earth's rotation and gravity prevents us all from flying off this rock into oblivion.
But an omnipotent being who loves us and cares about what happens to us?
Yeah. Sure. Whatever.
Edit: If you read this, please limit your comments to LiveJournal. No Facebook. My Nephew, The Boy, is running The Philadelphia Marathon tomorrow and he has not yet been told about my mother. It would completely devastate him and he would be unable to accomplish what he's been training for all year. Thanks.)