I Don’t Want You to Be Lonely

It is that time once again.

The last time I sat in this chair I was flying solo.  It’s not bad to be alone. There is always such a long wait between blood work and my oncologist’s appointment.  And I must confess that I do have a bit of anxiety as there is a risk that chemo will be delayed if my white blood counts are too low… I just want to get chemo # 4 over with.  But being alone allows me to write a post and reflect on my life.  Reflecting tends to put things into perspective for me and slows my life down as it tends to race by if I am not paying attention.  Summer is a busy time with a lot of potential “projects” to complete during my manic phase – or should I say “begin” during my manic phase?  (I tend to start many things and get distracted before I finish.)

This time, I’m not alone.  David woke up early, got dressed and was ready to come with me to my pre-chemo appointment.  I was surprised, somewhat, to see him up and ready.  He is a very thoughtful young man and is inclined to empathize with people readily.

“David, why are you up so early?” I inquired of him.

“I didn’t want you to be alone today, Mom.  No one should be alone at the hospital.”

What a guy.

“Oh, David,” I carried on, “I’m okay.  It will be a very long day for you.”

“That’s okay, Mom.  I’ll be with you.”

And that was that.  How could I turn him down?  That would just be rude.  Right? So, now, here we sit.  He is sipping his Jugo Juice (he bought) and I am sipping my coffee (he bought that too).  He is playing an on-line game on his computer and I am writing this post.  We share a glance at one another every once in a while – just enough to stay connected.

He already made an impression on Sherry.  Sherry and I tend to have the same chemo schedule.  She and her hubby are here more often, I think, but it seems that we are on the same calendar in terms of treatments.  And we are, well, chemo-buddies?  (If that’s a thing).  “How nice that you have your son with you,” Sherry commented.

“Yes – he didn’t want me to be alone and everyone else is working today.”

“How thoughtful.  My kids are still sleeping.” My chemo – buddy and I smiled.  Teens.  Her children are younger and we both know what summer means when you are a kid.

At least, I know what summer means to most kids.  To David, however, this summer will mean something else.  We enjoyed ourselves immensely last week-end when we spent time with friends at their cottage.  I was thrilled to see David be a “kid” again.  He was given the opportunity to swim, use the ATV, he learned how to split wood with a wood-splitter, and he learned how to shoot an air gun.  He danced, ran, and simply had fun.  The week-end was a gift to me – to see David not worry about me – to see David have fun – to see David be a kid.

Because he is not a kid right now.  He has put on his big-boy pants to take care of his old Mom.  It happened on our ride back from the cottage.  “Mom, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.  I had a great time this week-end.  Why do you ask?”

“I know this is a long drive and that you don’t always sleep well.  I want you to be healthy. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Oh, buddy, I’m good.  I have good quality of life and I am hopeful.  And that’s all anyone can ask for.”

Seconds later, he and I were singing to one of Rhianna’s new songs.  Neither one of us knew the words other than, “work, work, work, work, work”.  So – we made up the rest and we laughed at how it sounded.  One second, David is an adult with the cares of an adult and the next he is a kid.  I’d like him to be a kid more often, but I’m not sure it is in his nature.  He has always been older than his age.  He is, if there is such a thing, and old soul.

No.  I am not alone.  Today, I am not flying solo.  I have my David – and I am hoping that with today’s news (whatever it is) he can spend the day as a kid!

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About inmycorner

This blog began as an opportunity to tell my Dad's stories. I sat with him and the computer and together we told stories. It was a wonderful way to get to know Dad. He was 9. He and Mom had a wonderful life together and since she passed away a year and a half before him - Dad was ready to join her. I no longer tell his stories but have found stories of my own. The impetus to resume this blog was the discovery that I had stage 4 ovarian cancer. Since blogging had been so therapeutic for my dad and I to get through our grief, I felt maybe this would be a good outlet to process my situation. I also hoped it may serve as an outreach to anyone else who is facing this very ominous journey. So far, so good.
This entry was posted in appreciation, children, family, health and wellness, illness, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

13 Responses to I Don’t Want You to Be Lonely

  1. Judy says:

    Your son is such a wonderful human – he embodies you!
    I’m praying and crossing my fingers that you will hear good news today.
    ps. I often am with my kids while they’re on their iPhone – I am also writing or doing my own thing. It might seem like we’re not together, but in a strange way it really is fine with me.

    • inmycorner says:

      Oh – you are generous with your words, Judy. I passed my blood test today – so all is a go for tomorrow and here we go onto round four. I am glad to hear that you share that on-line / tech experience. Comforts me, Judy.

      • Judy says:

        Oh, you made my day! So glad to hear such good news because I know it makes such a difference in your life. And knowing my words comfort you – that comforts me. It’s sometimes challenging dealing with young adults. I adore my kids and I’m open to learning new ways to be with them!

      • inmycorner says:

        Funny, eh? How it is such good news to be able to receive poisoning. It seems it is working though as my CA-125 levels have dropped again. Just to get rid of the spots on my liver and “Bob’s your uncle” so they say! It is clear that you adore your kids — they are lucky to have you!

  2. what a lovely son you have – probably gets it from his parents…

  3. That young man, is a walking, talking heart beat.

  4. Gallivanta says:

    Blessings light upon him. 🙂

  5. sharechair says:

    Such a wonderful fellow! And this reflects directly on you…… an amazing mom. Best of all? Your relationship. You’re connected. Just sitting there, “sharing a glance every once in a while” …. such a statement of love. Congrats on your numbers (I read your comments). Good luck today as you tackle the next round. I’ll be thinking of you and sending good vibes… 🙂

    • inmycorner says:

      Thank-you, sharechair! I love our relationship – and feel so very blessed. He even bought me my favorite chips last night so I could eat comfort food when I got home. Chemo 4 done! Two more to go. LOOOOONG day!

  6. Gwen says:

    Your David does indeed have an empathetic heart. (Just one of the many reasons we love him). It is just so special that he wanted to join you as you sit and wait.

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