The Seed

Apparently Facebook changed its format, yet again, and I ran across a few “notes” I wrote 3 years ago this week.  It’s amazing to read them now and see where we ended up.  I’m OK.  We’re all OK.  Things are OK.

It’s OK.


Sunday, May 10, 2010 at 2:15am

 I don’t blog.  I make fun of it.  I admire other people’s blogs for not sounding silly.  I am blogging.  Funny how that works, huh?As many of you know, my mother passed away this morning.  I’m still wrapping my head around it…still trying to come to some clear understanding of what just happened…so I write.

I have been in Joshua Tree, a very enchanting little place, for the last few days.  I drove down to volunteer my time at the JT Music Festival in exchange for a ticket to see some pretty amazing live music.  I worked a full 8 hours yesterday…ate some dinner…made a cocktail…walked out to the stage.  The music started up…my phone rang.  And rang. And rang.  It was my brother.  I had bad service, but knew exactly what he would say.

Dressed up in a Girl Scout uniform, I walked around for what seemed like hours, looking for a place with good cell reception.  I eventually found some…up in a tree…dressed in a Girl Scout uniform.  As I type, I still laugh at the thought of it.  The news was true, “Mom’s pretty much gone”.  I thought, “Great. I’m in a tree in the middle of the desert and my mom just died”.  I felt numb.  I saw white…heard nothing.  This was the day I had been preparing for since she was diagnosed with her first of many diseases in 2008.  My brain was spinning like a top.

As I drove the 6 hours back to Mammoth this morning, I tried to digest the news from the night before.  I felt like a rock had been lifted from my chest.  No more suffering…the beauty of death is that there is no more suffering.  My heart always beats for those people around me…it’s huge…and it feels huge too.  Seeing my family go through the pain that is watching a loved one wither away…this task was almost more than I could take.

I realized (or was reminded…AGAIN) that life always has a plan of her own.  While we are busy making plans for tomorrow or next week, life is working on something a little different.   Like my mom, I have always been a planner.  When plans fail, we worry.  Why?  Because we don’t have control.  And we absolutely don’t.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is this…
My mother taught me a lot of useful knowledge in my 29 (almost 30) years.  Most recently, she taught me how to “be here now”.  Since her battle of terminal illnesses began, I slowly gained insight into “what life is really about”.  It’s what we make it.  It’s how we react to it.  We create so much suffering for ourselves just by our reactions to that little thing called “life”.

It’s not about yesterday.
It’s not about tomorrow.
It’s about today.

If you can’t live for today and embrace what you have right in this moment, then you will never be fulfilled.  I always worried about what I didn’t have….what I needed…what would or wouldn’t happen next week.  I am on a journey to find inner peace and acceptance.  I have the tools I need to find happiness within myself, without having control.  My mother, without even trying, taught me how to enjoy the beauty of now and I am forever grateful.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010 at 9:17pm

Remember always that you are just a visitor here, a traveler passing through. your stay is but short and the moment of your departure unknown.  None can live without toil and a craft that provides your needs is a blessing indeed. But if you toil without rest, fatigue and weariness will overtake you, and you will denied the joy that comes from labor’s end.  Speak quietly and kindly and be not forward with either opinions or advice. If you talk much, this will make you deaf to what others say, and you should know that there are few so wise that they cannot learn from others.  Be near when help is needed, but far when praise and thanks are being offered.  Take small account of might, wealth and fame, for they soon pass and are forgotten. Instead, nurture love within you and and strive to be a friend to all. Truly, compassion is a balm for many wounds. Treasure silence when you find it, and while being mindful of your duties, set time aside, to be alone with yourself. Cast off pretense and self-deception and see yourself as you really are. Despite all appearances, no one is really evil. They are led astray by ignorance. If you ponder this truth always you will offer more light, rather then blame and condemnation.  You, no less than all beings have Buddha Nature within. Your essential Mind is pure. Therefore, when defilements cause you to stumble and fall, let not remorse nor dark foreboding cast you down. Be of good cheer and with this understanding, summon strength and walk on.  Faith is like a lamp and wisdom makes the flame burn bright. Carry this lamp always and in good time the darkness will yield and you will abide in the Light.”  — DhammavadakaWell, it’s here.  The feeling I’ve been wondering about.  The people are gone, the house is quiet and I’m sitting here looking at a bunch of flowers.  This sucks.  It occurred to me at the burial that I will never be able to wrap my arms around my mother ever, ever again.  That sucks.  This week I get the emotionally draining task of going through my mother’s belongings and taking some of it to the goodwill.  I am strong…I can do this…but it still sucks.

This is the part people warn you about.  When the chaos dies, you’re left with your thoughts. My mother is gone.  Her spirit lives on in me…I will carry it.  I will do good things.  I will give of myself when I am able.  I will do my best to have the most positive attitude possible.  I will be strong for my family.

To my Mammoth family…I love you all.  I never knew how many people cared about me.  I am so fortunate to be in a town 2,400 miles away from “home”  and feel like I’m home every day.  You guys have a special place in my heart ALWAYS.

To my friends and family here in TN…you guys have been a rock for us this week.  We couldn’t have gone through this without you.  Thank you for the food and donations.  Your compassion overwhelms me.

 Sunday, May 23, 2010 at 1:54pm

The last week has been emotionally, mentally, and physically draining.  I have been happy, sad, depressed, angry and blank…with no rhyme or reason…no warning…no way to know what’s next.  I have been trying to stay true to my workout regimen…finding it hard when all I want to do is sleep.  All I have to do is go out and about and see all the glory that is, THE DIRTY (unhealthy, overweight) SOUTH, then I feel VERY motivated to keep up the good fight.So, I ran today. I picked the hottest, most humid part of the day to torture myself.  Granted, it was a mere 2 mile trot, but it was hell.  I signed up for The Blue Plum 5k last night…thought I’d try out what seems to be a “recovering” IT band and give myself a challenge.  Not only does this motivate me to get my lazy ass out of bed, but it will give me something to work towards, seeing as how I have no physical motivation at the present time.

With no rope, no harness, no partner and most importantly, no rocks in super-close proximity, the newest love of my life (climbing) isn’t an easy out right now.  I can’t get out of my head.  The thoughts, the spinning, the constant thought of the last time I hugged my mother.  It’s sucking out my very soul.  Climbing has given me the only clarity I’ve ever known in my 29 years of living on this earth.

When you’re climbing you think of nothing else.  There isn’t any room in your head for that other crap.  There have been many times this week that I’ve wanted to “climb” out of this fog, so I tried some alternatives.  I tried shopping…it’s what women do!  It’s hard when you’re broke.  I tried meditation.  It’s hard when there isn’t a quiet place.  I tried sleeping…and while I have been sleeping better than I can remember in a long time, it’s not lifting my brain fog.
So the 2 miles of hell…my run today.  As I was coming up the last hill, choking on the humidity, I realized I hadn’t thought of my mother the entire run.  A full 15 minutes had gone by and I thought about nothing except for the run…amazing.  I was covered in enough sweat to bathe all of LA county…breathing so hard I nearly went into cardiac arrest…feeling dizzy and heat affected…but my brain was clear!

I never thought a dinky little 2-miler during the hellish part of the day could be so healing.  I can hear mom now… “Megan, you’re gonna make yourself sick running like that in the heat”…she used to say it every time I would go for a run…and I know she’s looking at me right now shaking her head.

 April 24, 2011 at 10:18pm

April 22nd would have been my mother’s 67th birthday.  It was a year ago this past Friday that she courageously walked into the cancer center at Holston Valley to begin what would inevitably be her demise…on her birthday.  This was also the very last conversation I ever had with my mother.  It went something like this:

Me: “Hey mom! Happy Birthday!”

Mom: “Hi there. Well thanks baby.”

Me: “Today is your first chemo treatment…how do you feel?”

Mom: “Well, you know, it’s ok. Cancer is kind of fun”

(You gotta understand by this point in her life, AMS was an everyday thang)

Me: “Haha. Ok. Well listen, I love you very much and I really hope you have an awesome day.”

Mom: “I love you too, baby.”

The combination of her brain injury, the liver disease and meds from her mastectomy had her in a constant state of confusion.  We just rolled with it, because she was happy as a clam and that’s how we wanted her to feel.

Chemo treatment #1 down…zero to go.  Her little body just couldn’t take it.

The next day dad called 911 as he so frequently had to do the last few months of her life.  She had a severely altered mental status…we kind of knew where this was going.  Her diseased liver wasn’t too happy with the chemo drugs and he wanted to let us know about it.  He was hopeful.  My dad has always had this amazing ability to keep hope when things didn’t look so good.  I admire that.  My dad kicks ass.

The weeks ahead were filled with mom being unresponsive, awake, on a vent, off the vent…add a few codes in there and then magically they took her off the vent again and she was “awake”.  I was not here for all this, but I kept those poor RNs @ the Valley on their toes (I’d like to send a personal apology to them…I was a total bitch).  When I say she was awake, that just means she didn’t need a vent.  She was far off in another galaxy and unable to communicate.  I don’t think she hurt…I think she was euphoric and that’s what we wanted for her.  Something in my chest told me this was it.  And it was.  May 10th, 2010 she passed in her sleep.  What a true miracle…she didn’t have to suffer anymore.

The last year has literally been hell on earth.  I’m convinced that’s my hell.  I have worked in the medical field in various capacities for a while….seen the awful stuff…worked the awful stuff…but NOTHING EVER EVER EVER prepares you to watch your family member go through that shit.  Nothing EVER prepares you for losing a family member.  No amount of suffering and misery prepares you to be ok with your mom finally being at peace.  It’s a total mind freak.

I tricked myself into believe I was ok.  I moved on….or so I thought.  I freaked out and moved back to Tennessee.  Once I got back here I freaked out because I couldn’t believe I moved back to Tennessee.  I missed my Mammoth life.  My ski town life.  I was so bitter and angry about coming back to the one place I said I would NEVER EVER live again.  I did this for months.  I got a job that I hated….woke up pissed off every day.  I realized I was in denial….I was hurting…and I wasn’t dealing with it.  I couldn’t believe my mom had been taken away and I had to be miserable in the country music capital of the world (ok, so that’s Nashville but stay with me here).

Fast forward to January of this year…got rid of the UNrad job…got a job helping families in need in the ER at JCMC…met some amazing girls…reconnected with people from my past.  “Ok, I can maintain just enough until I move back to Mammoth in the Spring”.  Still wanted to move.  Still hated being here.  Then it happened…

The light bulb went off…”I will never be what I want to be if I move back to Mammoth”

I decided to stop talking and start walking…”Take the medic entrance exam…worry about the money later”

I stressed over this decision for weeks.  I have been on the fence about this and going for my RN for years.  I was always too afraid.  I finally had a dream one night a few weeks ago…about my mama…and she made it very clear to me that I needed to take a chance with my life.

So I did.  I passed.  I have one more step and it’s real.  Very, very freaking real.  I’m scared to death but more excited about this than a kid on Christmas.  I see it all now…and this is why the path has been so tough to walk…and scary to follow.  If it were easy then anyone could do it.  If it were simple then I would not respect myself for jumping through hoops to get here.  Mom did it all.  She taught me something that no one has ever been able to teach me and I’m still learning about it everyday.  I’m grabbing life by the balls (yeah, I said it) and running with it.  I can do this.  I will do this.  I couldn’t help my mom…but I’m going to have a chance to help others.


So here I am, living life as a paramedic.  Another one of those things I truly cannot believe.  Another life lesson I learned from someone not of this earth.  Another day I am humbled, because we spend too much time focusing on stupid shit.  Grow up.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s