Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Tuesday, November 22, 2011 -- Mattie died 115 weeks ago today.

Tonight's picture was taken in November of 2008 in the Lombardi Clinic at Georgetown. As you can see, Mattie was in a devilish mood that day and was trying to scare me with talk of cockroaches and even pictures. I am not sure what Mattie loved more... bugs or the thought of freaking me out with bug talk. Either case, we all played into his bug interests because it kept him smiling, laughing, engaged, and active. In fact, over the course of his treatment, lots of Mattie's friends would give him plastic bugs and fake roaches. However, Mattie would use these items to scare all of us, me, his nurses, or any unsuspecting soul. Though I despise roaches and really all bugs, I can't help but remember these bug moments in the hospital fondly. I use the word fondly because these bugs provided an outlet for Mattie to connect with people, which as his treatment went on, this was much more complicated for him to do. He turned inward and preferred isolation. Mattie's cancer left him depressed, anxious, and contending with PTSD. So whatever activity brought about laughter and his willingness to talk, I always supported.

Quote of the day: We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after a journey that no one can take for us or spare us. ~ Marcel Proust


Tonight's quote is very poignant and SO true. Mattie's cancer journey is something that will always be a part of me and as such it imparted me with a deeper understanding for things I may have taken for granted before. My knowledge is really not something I could have easily captured from someone else's story. I have a lived experience which I feel compelled to share with you each day in hopes that I can spare you from ever having such a journey.

As it is a Tuesday, this marks another week Mattie is gone from our lives. I do not think it is happenstance that I choose to attend zumba class on Tuesdays. The class gets me up, out of our home, and moving around. It also enables me to see the same women each week and my friend, Heidi. So it is a good thing for me.

After class, I came home and I literally spent about five straight hours in front of the computer. I had some research to do for a Foundation activity we are planning in March. I will be sharing this new venture with my readers shortly.

I think I was able to remain focused on this work and be home all day because I knew I was going out to dinner. Heidi and I decided to get together, which worked out well since Peter had a business dinner tonight. When I signed up for zumba class, I thought I would just be getting exercise, I hadn't planned on making a friend in the process. That is always a special gift when that happens. Heidi and I chatted about all sorts of things and time simply flew by. However, unlike making a new friend, Heidi knows a great deal about me already from being an avid blog reader. At the end of dinner Heidi surprised me with some tasty things to take home, one of which were a candy cane type of oreo cookie. Since oreos maybe my all time favorite cookie, I look forward to trying this cookie dressed up for the season.

When I got home from dinner, Peter was energized and wanted to talk. He had three encounters today where people wanted to hear about how he was doing and wanted to hear his Mattie story. Certainly Peter can share his thoughts and feelings with me, but talking to someone who isn't as emotionally invested in the topic can be very healing. As he was talking, I could sense that in a way it was a cathartic experience for him and I was so happy he was sharing it with me. As I say to Peter often, it is hard for us to help each other at times because we are both grieving the same loss.

Tonight Peter had the revelation that when he shares his upsets and feelings with me, that sometimes he is surprised by my reaction. However, he said what he realized is that my reaction is not necessarily my response to his questions or feelings, but simply my own raw emotions and feelings to the situation. This is a fine distinction, but an important one nonetheless. Because my volatility or Peter's volatility come from within over the loss of Mattie, it isn't simply a by-product per se of the content we are sharing with each other. Knowing this is important for any relationship because it helps to put in context reactions we may not understand from each other.

On Peter's taxi ride home tonight from dinner, a miraculous thing happened. The taxi driver started talking to Peter about the holidays. When Peter said to him that the holidays are difficult for us, the taxi driver wanted to know why. But it wasn't a perfunctory question, he seemed genuinely interested in learning more. Peter told him about Mattie, about the cancer, and about the Foundation. Peter said the conversation was surreal and very existential, not something he was expecting on his car trip home. I think it is ironic, that support comes sometimes in the most unexpected places. But between dinner, a phone call from a colleague, and then the taxi drive home, I could see that Peter felt different. He felt heard, understood, and he illustrated to me that telling one's grief story is vital to coping and adjusting.

I would like to end tonight's blog with a message from my friend and colleague. Nancy wrote, "The quote from yesterday, "How can I be useful, of what service can I be? There is something inside me, what can it be? is calling to me. Coming from this much loved master, who didn't achieve much success in his life is so interesting. The existential value of this quote is haunting. As a clinician, it is pivotal. In my opinion, a "good" practitioner works towards this goal with some clients, a master attempts it with all. As a parent, it is important because you demonstrate each day how crucial it is to be able to understand and listen to our children. I don't understand how many miss the value of being in the moment with their children. Is this something that our society has lost? Has the push of monetary gain blurred the essence of parenting or is it that we are not equipping many with the essentials of good parenting? Over the last few days, there has been a blurb about one or more parents who have mistreated their children and in most cases taken their lives. This is so hard to read knowing that you both had no control in Mattie's disease and now have to live without him and only through fantasy, can you imagine what he would have been doing and how he would have grown up? I am spending this quiet time today reflecting on the many gifts I have received from our correspondence and friendship. Some of them remind me of my Dad, who was my first mentor. I pray that he continues to watch over me as I know Mattie is watching over you."