The Funk That Swallowed Up Disneyworld

This week has been an emotional roller coaster. As it began, we found ourselves surrounded by sparkles, happiness and mutant sized rodents with perma-grins. Yep, we spent Monday in the Magic Kingdom at Disneyworld. It poured all morning.

It's funny to me how quickly ponchos and plastic bags become fashion forward during a torrential downpour. No one is laughing at you....even if your poncho is bright orange and decorated in Gators.

We're ALL suckas...who happen to be dry.

BUT, Big rain meant no lines. Awesome. And when the clouds parted, our appendages that weren't protected by plastic, eventually dried off as we frolicked through the park until the Closing Mass Exodus.

We drove home exhausted but happy, satisfied that it was the beginning of what was destined to be a great week.














Then Tuesday morning came around.

My mom called with an update. Since the summer, she's been dealing with a growth. Initially, it didn't seem like much and her doctor noted it would eventually need to be removed. However, in the past two weeks, her doctors have become more concerned because of it's location and size.

Okay, stop here.

I come from a long line of drama queens (we come by it ever so honestly) so as a gal recovering from DIDS (Damsel in Distress Syndrome) I've been trying to play it cool...so has my mama (who obviously comes from that same line).

The news that day wasn't awesome. Basically, she was waiting to go in for an expedited MRI and promised to call me when she heard back from the doctors.

{Bad mood funk coming on.}

Wednesday rolled around as usual. I had just finished some of the normal morning juggle when my mother called. The news was not encouraging. While her doctor/surgeons gave conflicting information, they were in agreement that the 'mass' looked very suspicious. It needed to be biopsied and taken out right away AND an oncology surgeon in the states would be required for the procedure.

The doctors have never conclusively said 'cancer' but essentially that's what they're preparing my mom for.

Our phone call was cut off and I got MAD. I cried. A lot. Two weeks of mounting concern and frustration with the unknown got the better of me.

I hate cancer.

Hate it.

I was so mad. Mad for the worry my mom was going through. Mad for beloved friends and family who have been robbed by it. Mad for so many who've recently been hurt by it's devastating effects. I was mad for Kim, Dedra, for Bishop Evans, Connie and their family, for Keturah and for Chad and Amber. Sooooo mad that my beautiful friend, Laura plays the waiting game every six months while she wonders, "Has it returned?" Mad that my friend Jamie faces the loss of some of her limbs because of it.

I wanted to scream, run, something, anything. Good grief I wish I had a punching bag or a karate chopping thingy.

So I did what any respectable, level headed and mature woman would do. I hosed down my bathroom and sterilized it from top to bottom. I finally called my other confidant (seeing as how I had just commiserated with the other) and finally came clean about what had been going on. Then I called my beautiful and strong survivor-friend. We talked and cried and somehow found a sense of peace in all of this.

Laura helped me realize something else I hadn't considered before. As awful as it was for us to be preparing for what may come with these developments, there are people who love us and who've had to stare that ugly beast in the face again, who go through the fight again when they face it with us. They have the purest form of empathy because they've been there.

Revisiting that place must be painful and yet they do because they love us.

I'd like to say my week got better; that I was able to snap out of the funk and get back to life. Unfortunately, the conversation on Wednesday was followed by the inevitable conversations about the 'what ifs'. Those really, really stink.

Which only made me crankier.

Until today.

I was reminded of a few simple truths that will never change:

1. The supernal power of prayer is universal. However a person chooses to do it, whatever religious beliefs one ascribes to, prayer changes things; whether it moves physical mountains or simply aligns your own will to a greater sense of peace, it's real. And there are many, many people out there who are just waiting for the 'go' to pray for us. It's an amazing thing, really.

2. We are surrounded by God's love. Even when faced with the scary prospect that parents aren't immortal, there are reminders that we are desperately and wholly loved. We will have fights to fight in this life but we never, ever do it alone.
Even when we insist upon it.


So now we wait. We wait for more conclusive results from the biopsy as my parents prepare for a mandatory trip to the states. We wait to see what further action needs to be taken.

My mother has asked me to be her sunshine. She needs me to be happy. I have a responsibility to lift her up during this process.

So now I'm gonna shake this funk.

I'm turning around, looking it in it's squinty, little beady eyes, putting my jazz hands up to my ears, sticking out my tongue and giving it a great big zerbit.

Here's to a good week.