do i have to think this much??

I was feeling very overwhelmed this week. I've done just a bit of compartmentalizing. Not in a bad way, but in the way that you take care of yourself, and deal with issues as able.

My friend's cancer regime is brutal. Truly to me it seems like people battle chemo/radiation - not cancer. I guess that is a bit naive to say. Battling late (or other) stages of cancer without any treatment or once treatment is done, doesn't seem to be a picnic either. I'm just kind of amazed how they have to destroy the body to heal the body. I wish there was something else that could be done. My dr. has always been big on letting the body heal itself. He's always said "the body will do what you ask of it, but you have to ask". As much as I like the philosophy, I don't think it applies here.

My mom suffers from moments.. Moments of anxiety, moments of indecision, moments of panic. Moments of absolute certainty that she is having a physical problem that leads her straight to the hospital. Last Sunday she sat beside me in choir practice and stopped singing on and off - I thought maybe she was forgetting to sing. No, she couldn't get enough air. not enough to sing. But enough to be. She soon left the choir loft with dad on her heals. They left church, made a rational decision that took them home instead of the hospital and all was well. Low blood sugar? Light headed? Who knows. But when a moment like that comes she is crushed by fear. I know that fear. One of the symptoms I deal with every time I have an allergic reaction is "the overwhelming sense of impending doom". Its not a joke and I feel incredibly vulnerable when it hits. It is a text book symptom. Now my fear is of the unknown. I sat in choir and church wondering if she'd gone home. Wondering if she was alright. She has enough of these little trips to the hospital, I wonder when "the big one" will actually come. One of these times she won't be alright. Fact. I asked myself what is the worst thing that is going to happen when she dies (as I sat there fighting my own sense of rising panic), the answer is she won't be here. That is the worst of it, it sounds so simple. I'll never hear her voice, laughter or feel her hug again. That will be the worst. I went round the gambit on Sunday morning by the end of the service I'd missed the sermon, but the panic was gone. I can't do a damn thing about the "when" of my parents inevitable demise. But I can live to enjoy my time with them as much as possible and I'm going to do my best not spend my valuable moments worrying.

This week we were closing a huge deal at work. I've had to compile massive amounts of documents. Lawyers, co-workers, outside investors, etc. have been coming at me from every angle. I think my boss has signed his name close to 1000 times, not even exaggerating. Its been exhausting and exhilarating. There were times when I thought if one more email request came, I was going to blow. Closing was yesterday - we did it. Even though last minute glitches (like our general counsel puking his guts out with food poisining all afternoon Thursday) were trying to thwart us, we did it. What a rollercoaster. In the middle of it all when I was literally spinning in circles I had to just slow it down. I had to focus on the solution.

This is a lesson I've learnt recently, you wouldn't even believe from where. Mandy has me reading fantasy novels. Of course they're multiple volumes and a million characters and story lines. fun - they kind of take me out of the daily grind. Anyway, the hero in the most recent set gradually comes into his own. As he learns his way he sees that he has to focus on the solution - not the problem. Its reinforced, book, after book. Well I guess it sunk in, cause I've actually used the line on myself and Samantha (didn't tell her its from a book!). Now, instead of focusing on my "big" problem I'm asking what is the solution?? Then focusing on the steps to take me to the solution. What a light bulb moment.