Atomictumor

Is what I was doing.  Yesterday, I had all these songs that made perfect titles, but not so much today.

I’m a lil sleepy.

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The boys came home today, along with my two sisters, their husbands, my 11 yr old sister (I guess that’d technically be the third sister), and 3 young kids.  The peace is gone, but its nice, except I’m tired.  Coffee’ll fix that.

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We had a nice meal at the Time Out Deli in town.  Hamburger and onion rings, and I was able to eat the whole thing!  So much for the grief weight loss, huh?

Still not sure about Pigpen.  Yesterday morning he woke up with a big ol headache, and was dry heaving.  I wonder if he’s mimicing one of his mothers last actions, or if he was really doing it.  If so, its a first.

He’s loud, he’s pushing limits.  He’s stubborn.

Jen’s reading over my sholder, and says that Pigpen was for real.  Poor guy.  He seems to feel fine now, so good.  I sure do love him.

MastaG is out playing.  He kept awfully close to me at the deli, but he’s OK running around, after making me roll my eyes at him with the complaint that “Pigpen got all the good toys” in the bag.  Theres no pleasing a punk ass 10 yr old.

I’m laughing at them now.  Family is cool.

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Mom’s coming up tomorrow, I think, and staying for a week or so.  That’ll be cool.  The solitude was nice, but its not life.

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I missed the 1 PM show, and didn’t have my phones, so I was stressing just a hair.  BJ’s dad called as soon as I got home (actually, as soon as I picked the phone up, another one of those little synchronicities I notice when I pay attention) and told me that she’s fine.  No word evidently on the head ct, down on the steroids (which I forgot all about), vent breathing down to 16 instead of 24ish, because she’s taking deeper breaths.

This is all so reassuring, but sometimes I stare into space and think about how awful this all is.  That poor girl.  She didn’t deserve it, but who does.  I’d take it away, and put it on myself a thousand fold, but I can’t.

So I try to do what she would have me do, and just enjoy.  Love the boys.  Laugh with family.

I love her.  I love her so much.  This isn’t easier, I’m just more able to cope.

Enough with the emo.  Gonna find some fun, now.  See you at the 3, baby.

I love you!

I’m going to steal a second of AT’s blog time to express gratitude for the love and support shown here by all of you.  I love my brother and his family, and it’s been hell watching him go through this.  I don’t know if he would have handled it nearly as well as he has without this outlet.  It has occurred to us at the Blueberry Farm (his mom, dad, myself and my husband), that there might be someone out there who still uses snail mail and would like to send Jake well-wishes on real paper.  I don’t think posting a physical address is the best idea, and we haven’t really discussed this with him, but we figured that using our address would be fine.  Dad has had it on our website for a few years, so it might as well be public knowledge. 

AT called just a minute ago. He said that GAC has started dialysis. The treatment should last four hours.

The Atomictumor began about a year ago when four Oak Ridgers, Atomictumor, GoldenAppleCorp, Mrs. Eaves and The Bosphorus, decided to crank up a blog.

Snarky, irreverent and lacking a spell checker, we’ve done battle with idiots, knuckleheads and people who drive too slow in the left lane. Since that beginning the tumor has grown way beyond our craziest imaginings.

We’re breaking the ‘tumor.
Her liver is failing. If she goes, it will be today or tomorrow.
There is nothing to fear, nothing to doubt.

I love you.