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Cathartic Blogging


Who knew blogging would actually feel as cathartic to me as journal writing? I have been writing in a journal since I was in third grade. I have over 25 journals. I'm not sure why I keep them. Maybe it's because I value the amount of psychological relief it gave me at the time (not so much at eight when it was about cute boys or mean girls). After I published last week, I felt fulfilled in doing something about how I feel. I am fairly helpless in my mom's declining condition and at least I can let her know what I'm feeling through this blog, others can get a sense for what I'm going through and it provides me with contentment. Win. Win. That being said, I must have been on a roll and did not edit my post before publishing. Still getting into the swing of things.

I've always been a worrier. I do better with more information not less to wonder about. Throughout the past two years I've been asked if I work in the medical field and that I can sound quite clinical when I talk about Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer. I get that from my mom. She is well-versed in the medical world as she's overcome some less than typical health issues where she'd had to be her own advocate. So during this time I've set out to be her advocate too. It's made my appreciate my educational background that I am motivated to learn about anatomy and oncology in order to feel somewhat knowledgeable at the end of the day. I've asked my share of questions and reached out to anyone who I thought could help me understand.

At this stage in the game, I am no longer looking up anatomical terms, NSCLC staging, or treatments. I've been reading books written from hospice workers and professionals about how bring care and comfort to those at the end of life. This is a different type of seeking knowledge. This cuts me to my core. It's not easy to read and I'm not as motivated because of the way it feels to relate the stories to my own mother. To know that my mom, my biggest cheerleader, is feeling all of these things is absolutely heart-wrenching. I think I know more about tumors and cancers than I do about how help someone "choreograph their own final moments" as I'm learning from reading the book Final Gifts by Maggie Callanan and Patricia Kelley.

I'm adjusting to the notion that the word 'celebrate' is not always filled with joy and fun. It can be underscored by loss and grief. My mom raised us to celebrate life. We celebrate big and small achievements, we celebrate children, our country and our sports teams. The word fan comes fanatic and I learned not too long ago I'm just a fan of life. I can go to a game where I don't know anyone or the team and cheer my heart out. This is what we grew up doing. Good report card? Let's celebrate! New job? Celebrate! Feeling good, feeling down, grab a glass and make a toast! I'm not quite sure how many times I clinked glass with my mom, even before I could actually drink alcohol.



Mom wants her memorial to be a celebration of her life and I'm trying to figure out how to do that. Yes, there will be food and toasts to her but how can I encourage celebration amongst such grief? Pictures. There have been such a collection of pictures we've gone through over the past couple of years that have elicited wonderful storytelling. I'd love to hear the background stories that go beyond the mere images in the image. Sometimes I wish that photos were the way they are in Harry Potter when they come to life. The picture above comes from a night of celebration and endless, goofy love. I'm sure we toasted at least twice an hour. Pictures like this make me happy and will hopefully give me and others too, the ability to embrace the joy and celebratory nature that my mom exuded. I can do this. We can do this.









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