Making time

This past weekend my parents ran their annual ‘Wake up’ seminar – so that meant they were crazy busy and we didn’t talk on Sunday.  Didn’t talk on Sunday, and it wasn’t till late Monday that we actually met up on Skype.

Somewhere between Sunday morning and Monday night I realize the following: I’m hooked on talking with my parents.

I kept checking skype for that little green bubble to appear beside their names – over and over, compulsively.

It never used to be like this. There was a time that we’d go a week or two between conversations – I was busy, they were busy, no one had time. But then I was diagnosed with breast cancer and that all changed.  We talk every day, either working together on my issues or just chatting. Even though they are in another country I still feel their support. Actually, I depend on it.

Who knows what will happen when the chemo and radiotherapy is over. Chances are we won’t chat every day. I’ll be busy, they’ll be busy, there won’t always be time. But this has been a very good experience. In some ways it brought me closer to my parents, and I’m really thankful for that.

It’s a heavy thing to take care of someone, but it makes a difference. From Zsolt doing the dishes, to friends bringing food, to talking with my parents – it’s all made a difference. I guess I’m hooked on the support, but for now that’s okay. For now I can let myself be supported.

And then, when this is over, I’ll do what I can to show my thanks.

There was a little girl

A long time ago, in a land far, far away (a magical nation of poutine, ice hockey and toques) I was a little girl who occasinally became sick. And when I was sick, if I really was sick, my mom would make chicken soup, and my dad would bring gingerale, and they’d say while stroking my forehead, “It’s no fun being sick, eh kid?”

And those few words, whether I was nauseous or feverish or sniffing with a cold – they always made me feel a little bit better.

Just like now. My mom is here, and she’s making me meals, bringing me supplements, and pushing me to exercise. She hasn’t said it’s no fun being sick, kid (that was my dad’s thing) – but she’s told me it is okay to be angry, and okay to be sore, and okay not to be okay all the time.

And that makes me feel a little bit better. Actually, it makes me feel a whole lot better.

So FYI Mom – your help has been invaluable. INVALUABLE.  And FYI Dad – your treatments are really helping, really, really. I’ve been able to cope with so much more after working with you both.

And while there is more to say, and more that’s gone on, these two deserve a post of their own.

Thanks Mom and Dad.