Look, I’m sorry I’ve kept y’all waiting so long; I’ve been preoccupied with helping Kitty on her road to recovery.
Often when a loved one gets incredibly sick for an extended time, Doctors, Nurses, and other medical professionals will utter a phrase that is both helpful and infuriating. “You’re adjusting to the new normal.” It’s a beneficial term because it offers sobering realization that there are no magic fixes for your infirmed family member. However, “adjusting to the new normal,” is also a phrase said when a loved one dies, and it’s not really true.
2 Years ago, my Dad came home from his office and found my Mom had exited this mortal coil. 2 years ago is when I was told by my grief counselor that I was “adjusting to the new normal.”
Unfortunately, the “new normal” consisted of crying meltdowns on the floor of my shower, a father who wept and wished for the past, and a personal desire for the entire season of Holiday celebrations (along with Val’s 4th birthday) to go away. That “new normal” lasted for a little while, but it soon morphed into something much more joyous.
My Dad embraced his second act and not only got a promotion, he is marrying the love of his new life. The tears that occasionally flow now are mostly happy ones. My Baby bro married his #1 last October, and Kath our Baby Sis, is KILLIN’ it at her school (so is the debate team she coaches.) Valor is a smart and loving Kindergartner who has a secret villain identity. I rose to the top of a Toy Hustling empire, only to walk away from it all for charity (more on that later) In short, today’s normal rules by comparison.
Present day, most of my weekdays are spent assisting Kit-E. While home from the hospital, she’s got a woundvac and is still working up strength. Doctors and nurses are once more telling us we’re adjusting to the “new normal,” but that is not the case. We’re adjusting to an ever-changing routine.
I have complete confidence that the warrior of a MIL is going to triumph. These days of pain and discomfort will fade, and somewhere soon in the future, she will return to her fiercely independent and tough as nails self. This woman buried a husband at 42 and went on to raise 3 incredible men who are overachievers each in their own right (yes, even YOU Thane-o); she’s a great person and friend. I don’t know anyone who could endure the horrific tortures she’s gone through since being diagnosed with Stage 2 Breast Cancer, as gracefully as Kitty has. Even at her most miserable, frustrated and upset, she makes sure to thank everyone and tell whomever is helping her at the time, how much she appreciates them.
For a while I was really worried that she’d never regain her spark of self-sufficiency, but these past two weeks have shown that while the fire may be on simmer, she’ll be able to kick it into a full rolling boil when the time comes. Kitty will thrive once again; she’s overcome death and will soon leave the abnormal days of low energy and sorrow behind.
Me? All of this loving daughter/ advocate nonsense is seriously affecting my street cred on the Ho-Stroll. But fear not, I’ll always be a ne’er do-well who’s a rotten apple at the core. I’ll simply have to trip a toddler, wear a baby seal fur coat, and crotch-kick a school mascot, just to balance the scales a bit. After all, I can’t lose my VIP status amongst dirt bags.
As always, dear and trusted readers, I’m thankful for each and every one of you. I started this clap-trap flop house half a decade ago to mainly serve YOU, the bored who had nothing to shame-read at work, stupid meetings, and sleep worthy social engagements. Thanks for being so patient.
I’m superjazzed to announce that tomorrow I will be debuting PART SIX in the Out of Africa Series! I’ve been Chronicling our journey to Kenya at the end of summer, and tomorrow we pick up right where we left off with, Out Of Africa Part 6: Schooled
Until then, hang in there babies, and be sure to drunk watch the presidential debate tonight. If you aren’t following and researching the election and current events, you’re the problem– NO drunk watching for y’all. You lazy uniformed tramps need to put some smart glasses on and take notes tonight. “Letting it burn,” is not an option, dumb dummies.
See you tomorrow,