I left work on Friday noonish with the full intention of going home and working.  I have a funding application that is due this coming week, and the draft needs some quiet time…rather I need quiet time to complete it.  I made it home ok, but then received a call from a friend that had something to drop off.  She stayed for tea.  Then I remembered I wanted to call my 93 year old aunt who’d just given up driving at the request of her children.  So much for work.

 “I’ve been praying for you every night.”  was the first thing my aunt  said when she realized who was calling.  We eventually chatted about the difficult decision to stop driving.  I remember how it was for my mom, her sister, when she chose to do the same.   Giving up that particular independent task must be such a loss.  Both my aunt and my mom have been independent women.  They ran their homes with 4 and 5 children respectively…and husbands too.  Even in their aging they both want nothing to do with burdening their children.  I am taking a liberty here to say that my family, my brothers, sisters in law, cousins, nieces, nephews and I have all been blessed with their tender loving care.  So when my aunt told me about praying for me, I smiled and thought to myself that this woman just gave up something that most of us take for granted and here she is wanting to talk more about me than her.  The word selfless comes to mind when I think about the two of them.  They always take time for me.

This call got me thinking about a comment that A made a few days ago.  I referenced it in my last entry.  I had left work early so that I could take my kids to get hair cuts, and I planned on being on a phone conference during their appointments.  The haircuts didn’t take as long as the conference, so we walked to the car with me attached to the phone, and sat in the car until the meeting was over.  A said something like “you are always on the phone and I don’t feel like we get time with you any more”.  Boy Hardy, let me tell you it took all of me to hold back my self absorbed thoughts.  I did engage in a very unsatisfying debate for a few minutes and decided to wait until I collected my thoughts before we went on. 

Running the breast cancer treatment marathon totally rearranges my availability to my family…and myself.  Obviously, there are other things I’d rather be doing.  So as I think that I’m getting back to work, finally ending the drain on my paid time off accrual, managing to get our kids where they want and need to be, feeling more like a partner to B, finding time to do what I want to do…balancing and juggling… I hear that my kid thinks I’m not available.  Our kids have gracefully accepted something that has gyped them of so many things.  They have not complained one bit.  And although this chemo drug is not nearly as depleating as the first combo, my fatigue is evident at times now.   At dinner that night I asked A how I could be more available.  She really is very logical about it all.

I lay in bed Friday night thinking about how the heck I was going to make it through Saturday.  We have passes to a couple ski mountains and we have been alternating hills each week in January.  Saturday was to be the bigger of the two, a place that is really one of my favorites in Maine.  The reason for my trepidation was the accumulating fatigue that I’d been noticing this week.  There was no way I was going to make it through the whole day skiing.  I’d planned to bring my computer so that I could get that application completed and put in the time I’d abandoned on Friday.  I was even wondering about the drive.  What I was doing was anticipating fatigue, not necessarily feeling it.  My thoughts included “I SHOULD really take it easy.  I SHOULD NOT over do things.  I SHOULD be careful.  This fatigue will put me at risk.”  And finally:  “I SHOULD get that work done.”  These thoughts are so foreign to me that I could not believe I was actually thinking them.

E brought a friend along and A and I planned to ski together for as long as I could.  The day was your picture perfect winter day.  Crystal clear sky as blue as blue is blue.  Cold enough to keep  conditions terrific and warm enough to stay warm enough.  As we went up the lift each time it was impossible not to notice and comment on the beauty.  The snow covered trees against the pristine sky provided an amazing back drop for wonderful conversation between us.  We skied and skied.  We started racing down the hill taking different paths to see who could make it to the bottom before the other.  Even the lift attendants were watching to see who arrived first.  I found myself skiing with complete abandon, which for me is like what Dory did in “Finding Nemo”.  You know, where she’d be on a mission and then just start weaving around and singing?  Well, I’d start racing down the hill and then get into my form and turns and weaving and humming and sometimes singing really loud, before I remembered that I was in a race.  It was so freeing.  Incidentally, A finished first many times more than I did.  Riding up the lift one time A said “I feel so happy when I ski.”   She described the feeling of “infinite” that the boy in the wallflower book spoke about.  We started talking about the sky and the expanse of the universe and the blue.  At what other time would we have had this conversation?  There is just something about skiing for A.  Her smile was noticed by many who commented and she said “Of course I’m smiling, I’m skiing.” 

Before we knew it, it was time to pack up.  The ride home was quiet as we drove into the dusk.  The views over the lakes and mountains were spectacular.  A joked about a conversation she had with a friend she saw.   “He asked who I was here with and I said…my mom.  How lame is that?”  We laughed and laughed.  As we pulled in the driveway A was planning her ride to the hockey game, immediately after our return.  I looked at her and said something like “you know I’m not going to be able to drive you…”  and she said “I’m all set mom.  Daddy is going to take me.  Thanks for spending time with me today.”

Today is Sunday.  I slept well.  I feel ready to FINALLY put in some work time.  The fire’s roaring, the katz are snoozing.  E and B are out on an adventure.  A is still abed.  I’m so happy we went skiing yesterday.