It was nothing a little extra folic acid supplementation couldn't fix. That methotrexate, she's a tricky character, and needs keeping an eye on.
Beautiful camellia, isn't she? I meant to write about her yesterday, her and her equally beautiful sisters. They were a gift from a friend, so touching and so welcome that they lift my spirits each time I look at them.
I woke up crying Thursday morning, at a loss to understand why my mother doesn't like me. Rejection hurts, rejection from a parent cuts you in two. I am sure there is a measure of affection somewhere in there, but equally sure that I'm just not her cup of tea. And I was thinking about those camellias and how much I appreciate them, and I came to understand that the gifts I have to offer simply aren't the kind of gifts my mother appreciates. And that made it okay somehow, made it less personal, more understandable. I like being me, couldn't change myself if I wanted to, and wouldn't be this person with any other mother.
It's a rare aggressive form of a rare aggressive cancer she has been diagnosed with, sarcomatoid mesothelioma. Exposure to asbestos is what causes it; in the construction of her own home or in the washing off of contaminated dust from her builder husband's clothes, the damage was done many decades ago. It's hit so suddenly and furiously she hasn't had time to process it much; she's now on such high doses of pain relief that she'll never get that time. Sitting with her today, asking the doctor to help her still terrible pain, helping her drink, cleaning her teeth, holding her hand while she slept, I was at peace with that. Life's a bit of a crapshoot in so many ways. My sister's sister-in-law came to visit for a while and I saw how her energy and sociability cheered my Mum up, and instead of being envious that it wasn't me making her smile, I was glad that R. is the kind of person who can, and that she was kind enough to share herself with a sick old woman who needed it.
Because, like it or not, that's the sort of thing I can do.