an unexpected limb

If you want to make God laugh, so the saying goes, tell Her your plans. The last time I posted in early January, it had been a rough 7 months due to my mom's health crisis, but things appeared to be looking up. Then, on January 14, my dad had a heart attack. He survived, but we almost lost him. He spent a a week in ICU followed by a month in cardiac rehab before coming home. Already an end-stage renal patient on dialysis with a history of stroke, cancer, and diabetes, life is not easy for my dad these days. And mom, who has been in cancer treatment since June of last year is no longer able to care for him in the way she once could.

Meanwhile, mom has not improved as much as expected. It appears she has more cancer, in another organ. If a biopsy confirms this diagnosis, she will soon begin new chemo treatments.

I'm struggling to (re)define my role in the current reality. When it appeared that a relatively brief period of intense, basically full-time care giving from me for my mom might get her over the worst and back to far more independent living again, I was ready to sign up for 6-8 months of that and put a temporary hold on parts of my life. Now that things have become more complicated and it's clear that this is a longer term proposition, it's time to re-think things.

In January, I imagined that I would be doing more blogging and other types of writing this year. I even envisioned "Writing" as a theme for me in 2013. As it turns out, most of my writing to date has been my almost daily journal posts on the Caring Bridge site I set up for my mom to update friends and family on her condition. (I've since expanded it to include updates on my dad's health as well.)

The year is young yet, and spring is just around the corner--a time of re-birth and new growth. Maybe I'll start a different blog that focuses on dealing with adversity. Maybe I'll write a book. Or maybe my theme for this year will become "Caregiving" or "Family" and I'll save writing as a focus for another time.

This soprano is not situated on the limb I expected to be perched upon by now, but the nature of tree climbing is such that you have to use limbs that can support your weight and which are close enough to reach from wherever you happen to be. As you proceed up the tree, you may discover things you weren't expecting which necessitate adjustments to your route or occasionally even your destination. But the act of climbing, practiced regularly and with reasonable care, is bound to make one stronger and more discerning over time. And those tree-climbing skills will surely come in handy later, when it's time to change trees.