Never be lulled into a false sense of comfort

It's universally true that whenever things seem to be going rather smooth, other parts of your life go supremely wonky? I believe this same sentiment was echoed long before I thought it in Bridget Jones Diary. No doubt I agree.

I returned from Europe with a strange sense of elation. Things had calmed down at work (so I had heard through various emails), the clients were still around but at least life wasn't the sort of living hell we had to endure previously (though I have recently found out that life with the clients in the building 24/7 is a different level of hell itself), Cathay was still dormant though certain factions remained busy which had nothing to do with me and every ones attentions were captured by the historic election.

Personally I was looking forward to getting back to the States in preparation for assisting in the elections, calling forth my patriotic inclinations and hitting the pavement with zeal and zest (which I did I'm proud to say). Also knowing that the client would eventually leave I was downright jubilant with the upcoming availability to my schedule. I had started to reach out to friends who I had pretty much ignored for the better part of a year, I made plans to join loved ones for dinner, getting home on time for a change to cook, go shopping (most of the time it's aimless wandering) and (dare I consider it) actually getting out for lunch in the middle of a work day! I was downright jittery with excitement. I would no longer be the pathetic soul that people looked at, shook their heads and pitied because I was clearly frazzled and overworked. I would no longer hear people say "ohhhh, so you're R! My goodness you're one hard working paralegal! We know ALL about you." BLAH!

But of course I'm cautious by nature and most certainly do not count baby calves before they hatch in chirping clucking glory therefore I went around for days interrogating absolutely everyone asking such questions as "so what's next on our agenda?" or "Um...well I mean it doesn't seem like anything big is in the horizon, right?" I'm not great at asking questions on the DL but recon is recon and I got my answer for the better part. After being assured somewhat that indeed nothing huge was in the horizon, I set off making plans to actually get and sustain a life. I called, emailed, texted, courier pigeoned friends with lunch, coffee, drinks, dinner, even high tea requests, all which were received with enthusiasm (this still surprises me since I have been for the most part MIA in my dear friends lives and therefore I thought I'd have to do some fairly heavy duty groveling in order to book their time but as I said before, I am blessed).

Then, like a good daughter, the next available weekend since coming home from Europe (for those not keeping up that was last weekend), armed with bags of goodies and loads of pictures, I got to my parental domain to discover my mother in a world of agony. Shingles the doctor said, or so the symptoms indicated. She was insane with the pain and I watched as helplessness aa-washed me. What could I do? Not a darn thing as sat beside her stroking her hair and silently pleading with God to make the pain go away. Then my dad returns home. His right eye is swollen, retaining water he says, bad diabetes or medication or something. I sit and look at my parents, one on either sofa dozing, looking so frail, tired, old. When had they aged? Oh jeez they had aged.

P and I were going to leave that night, come home to VA. We stayed instead getting up in the morning only to don the same clothes from the night before. Clearly just our presence was enough to make them forget their discomfort, somewhat though not all of it. Both P and I were okay to forsake the mountain of work we had to do in order lend comfort. Being wanted and needed truly isn't the worse thing on earth.

Then...a week later after having used a months worth of minutes in calling my parents insistently, this last Friday night to be particular, my Sis-in-law tells me that she's sick with worry, her grandmother who she adores is at deaths door. What else possible bad news can there be really? No, no...more. My own Mom-in-law...eye surgery... which was successful but the doctors cautioned for her to rest. She's not good at resting in particular because almost the whole family except for herself, father-in-law and grandmother-in-law are immigrating within a month to the U.S. My MIL has been spending a lot of time crying. Not good for her eyes. Oh yes, my mother, still sick, in worse pain than a week ago and they haven't diagnosed it positively as Shingles. Another possibility...Lyme Disease. LYME DISEASE?!?!?! What the FUCK!

P and I went to B'more yesterday but came home at about 2:30am when i pleaded with mom to understand that I haven't been home in practically a month, that I had to clean the house, do laundry, cook and all those other domestic things that makes a house a home. She understood even though I'm sure she was disappointed. But I woke up this morning and was informed...mom was in even worse pain then yesterday. Guilt had me driving down 295N back towards B'more at 3pm. The look on her and my fathers face when I walked through the door was worth every single minuted that I had spent in the car going there and coming home.

I'm exhausted, mentally and physically. I don't regret being a dutiful daughter, of course not however I wish that I could quit lulling myself into a false sense of comfort that at least for a short while things would go smoothly, no bumps, no road blocks...no sadness.

Okay.