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Even The Tough Cry, Sometimes

Like every single human being I experience all feelings and emotions, but I don’t often show nor talk about them, even to those I am most close to.  I choose to keep them to myself rarely letting them escape.  I don’t think I will always be like that, it’s just the phase that I’ve been in for a while now.  That’s why my blog is nice for me.  It allows me to let the feelings out a bit rather than keeping them held inside.  But today was a bit different.  I think if you were to see my eyes in person today, you could see that I was completely crushed on the inside.

I’ve done what I always do, and expected a situation to be what is probably on the worse end of the scale of outcomes, and unfortunately it was right.  Yet expecting the worse didn’t help ease the pain and feelings that surrounded the situation.  It was only confirmation for what I had hoped to be prepared for, but wasn’t.  And I don’t honestly think you can be prepared for all of the thoughts, the questions, the scenarios, and the possibilities that rush through your mind upon learning something that is devastating.

It all goes back to when we talked my parents into going to the eye doctor for a checkup and to get some real glasses.  The doctor did the checkup and said her eyes were healthy, but for some reason she had a loss of peripheral vision on her right side, and recommended that she see a neurologist.  Then my mom had her wreck last year, and since then has had on-again off-again headaches.  We’ve all noticed, especially in the past few months, that she has been getting easily confused, repeating things when she talks to us, lost quite a bit of weight, and has had no appetite at all.  Then she started mixing Chase and I up—something that moms never do, even with twins.  With all of this we knew that something was seriously wrong and we had to get her checked out.

Today she went in for a MRI and had it performed with and without contrast.  The images show what the doctor is calling a meningioma.  Billy called and told me about it and then the four of us had lunch to discuss what the proper route to take would be.  I was expecting something small, and I really want to believe that it will be something simple to remove, but the scan is showing a growth that is around 60mm.  I can’t help but believe this is very serious. Tomorrow we are supposed to get the report and hopefully know more detail about it as well as know what direction to start looking.

I’m trying my best to keep it together, especially around any of the others, but when thinking about it, or listening to my family try to figure out a game plan, I do tear up.  Alicia said on the way home both my mom and dad was crying.  I’ve never in my life seen my dad cry, so I know this is really going to be something tough for the both of them.  Heck, tough for all of us.  Both of my parents are very strong people, and have probably always done as I have done and just kept their fears to themselves up until now.  Even the very thought of my dad crying over my mom being sick just kills me.  But tears are not a sign of weakness, instead they are a sign of being human, a sign of love symbolizing words that the heart cannot express.

If I were to say that I didn’t tear up any writing any of this, I’d be a liar.  Please keep my family in your thoughts and prayers.  This is going to be a very trying time for all of us.