Tuesday, April 21, 2009

The Road Not Taken


Today fucking blows.

Last night I was awake most of the night with Sutton, who had a stomachache. During all that time of wakefulness, my mind started to wander to all the paths my life could have taken--all the wrong turns, all the potentially disastrous detours--and how lucky I am that I managed to get to the point where I am today. I'm not rich. I'm not famous. But I'm happy.

This morning that "I'm happy" has been a mantra, because living in THIS EXACT moment, it's hard to remember I'm happy. I have a terrible headache. I'm very, very tired from being up all night. My Mom left at 5am to go back to Tennessee. My Dad has been gone fifteen weeks today.

I can take Advil. I can go to bed early tonight. I can call my Mom and look forward to her next visit. There isn't much I can do about my Dad.

Which leads me to another choice I made in the past that I can't help but wonder about. Could I have done anything to save my Dad? Could I have gotten him to better doctors in the beginning, before the cancer became so advanced--doctors who could have chosen surgery as an original choice or used different chemotherapy or even some option I could never even have dreamed of? Could I have listened to my gut when everyone said the cancer was "no big deal" and thrown a godawful fit until somebody treated it with the seriousness it obviously deserved? Could I have changed the outcome and still have my Dad today, but back to his healthy, happy self?

It's rare that I allow my words to make me vulnerable. But today. Today I'm defeated.

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