Being twenty-two

March 12, 2009

I had all four of my impacted wisdom teeth extracted yesterday, which has proved to be as seemingly exciting as a prison sentence. I have a frozen bag of corn wrapped in a towel on my right chipmunk cheek and a frozen bag of peas to my left. My mouth wont stop bleeding, and is consequentially filled with gauze pads. Essentially I look like a squirrel who has confused Charmin toilet paper for food. I am hardly coherent from the Valium and Vicodin they have me hopped up on, (So I suppose I should preface this with a disclaimer if parts of it don't entirely make sense or flow cohesively, cut me some slack you brutal souls :) And my family seems to be getting entirely too much pleasure from my ill state - heartless jerks. Although I must say it isnt undeserved. I am known to take a heart-filled laugh at others pain too, its all in good fun. My father tells me its good for me since hes surprised I have yet to float off into space from the size of my ego - its a LaGow trait, I cant help it :) Somehow our entire family was miraculously born ridiculously good looking and perfect. Haha. Im kidding, well sort of.

My older bother Mike came home last night which was a pleasant surprise, especially since we haven’t been on speaking terms since around Christmas. I have seen him a few times since, but they have been civil meetings at best. I just want him to grow up, thats all. My heart hurts for the regret I fear he will carry later in life, but you cant 'save' someone who doesn’t want to be. Smashing beer cans on his forehead seems to be of a higher priority. But, today he has been overwhelmingly attentive, which still leaves me flabbergasted. I always knew he was a giant teddy bear trapped under 300 pounds of D1 college football muscle and ogreish brawn.

My mothers two able sisters Susan and Lois flew in on Tuesday and Wednesday to be here to help me while I recover. Needless to say driving my dad the hour to Duke for his treatments was out of my scope of capability. I try most of the time to be superwoman, but this was certainly a task I couldn’t take on single handedly. One aunt agreed and the other hopped on board half a second later. My godmother, Susan, took me to and from. Once I got home she set me up in our guest bedroom downstairs. She sat on my bed while caressing my hair, handing me ice packs, removed my gauze pads and began to spoon feed me water. And I just began to cry uncontrollably. Something that is unusual for me. My montra is to be a rock, never let 'em see ya sweat. She kissed my forehead and told me how she knew it must hurt. But that was the thing, I wasn’t upset because it hurt. It hasn’t hurt much at all honestly. I was crying because I was happy, ridiculously happy. Which may seem odd to some of you. I was crying because I spend all day caring and worrying and doting oneveryone else in this house hold. I run the ship. I was just so happy she was there to take the load off, even for a day. To take care of ME. Not only that but she reminds me so much of my mother. They look so similar, sound similar, have the same mannerisms, they even wear the same perfume, which I still cant get used to.

The room I am in is also the room my mother stayed in while she was sick and we haven’t moved most of her stuff. Her needle point scarf she was knitting still sits on the bedside table (she was making them for her three children Mike,Phillip and I. She only was able to get 3/4 of the way through one.) The bookcase is filled with books she read, she loved to read. She was so inquisitive, about everything. She just had this yearning to never stop. She read everything from Walt Whitman to Harry Potter. She was so smart, on all sorts of topics. I remember when she used to walk us to the bus stop in elementary school and while we were walking she would quiz us on what type of trees we were passing. This is a white birch, how do you know? From the bark, that’s right. And this, Red Oak how do you know? See the moss growing on this side of the rock? That typically means this way is north, if you ever get lost at night, moss grows north. She just knew everything about everything. I cant see a weeping willow tree, know why it is and not think of her - this is good. Anyway I was sitting in this room that automatically reminds me of my mother, surrounded by her things, being cared for by her spitting image sister. I felt like a child again. I haven’t had anyone bring me soup or bring me meds when I’ve been sick in years. Im so used to caring for myself and everyone else, with no questions asked. But, I felt my age for the first time in months, maybe years. I spend my days being the parent to my father for obvious reasons and being a parent to my brothers because well they still need one.

Im up every day at 5 am to drive my dad the hour to Duke for treatment, come home make breakfast, shower and go to class at 11. When I get out of class I have two hours left of 'business hours' to get ‘things’ done: phonecalls, Relay stuff, Bank stuff, Attorney stuff, Life insurance stuff, social security stuff, will stuff, trust fund stuff, power of attorney stuff, pension plan stuff, mortgage stuff, house deed stuff, car titles stuff, stuff no one my age wants to know about or wants to have to do. Then I come home and cook dinner, I try to make sure its on the table every night at six. My younger brother has had quite some... trouble would be a nice way to put it, with all that has happened to our family. He thrives in a familial, structured environment. That was what was stolen from him at such a young age. My heart aches for him most of all. He is so young, its so unfair for him. Anyway, I do the best I can to provide that for him. Making him come home from playing basketball for a family dinner and making my dad get up and move off the couch for a family dinner is important to me and I think it helps. After the dishes and getting my dad ready for bed I get to begin to do my homework. I never hit bed until about midnight if Im lucky and then I start all over again. And this is no way a complaint. I love my life. I really love my life. I am infinitely happier and healthier here than I have been in almost seven years. Iam finally not trying to run from reality, which I did for quite some time with the aid of my best boyfriend - Jose Cuervo.

It just feels good to be taken care of now and then. To feel loved. That’s all. On top of this, someone sent me a giant bouquet of roses and I still haven’t figured out who but if you read this thank you. I have them sitting next to me, there is just something about flowers that can bright up any girls day. Especially when they are completely unexpected. Anyway bottom line, no matter how much of a hard ass I try to be its nice to remember that everyone needs someone now and then. I am not perfect. I am not made of stone. And its ok to loosen my grip on 'being ok'.