There are heros

I haven't been on here for a while, guess that my theory about not being compelled to write when I'm not up to my ass in alligators is proving correct. I have thought about writing, having an occasional thought that I meant to write down, but as I have only had to put out a few fires in the past week or so, I have satisfied my need to share with occasional posts on FB. I am watching CNN's Hero's award show. It humbles me to see and hear of these men and women from every corner of the world who saw the needs of others and did their utmost to fill them. Building orphanages and parenting scores of children, building raped girls self esteem and power, raising money for amputee children to have prosthetics and crippled children to have wheelchairs, feeding hundreds of homeless day workers from an apartment kitchen after a long day of work. Doug and I have been watching the show and weeping with happiness and humility. The award recipients all state that they are not heros, just ordinary folks who couldn't not help. It has made me think about all the heros who don't get to be on TV or recognized at all. Mothers who sacrifice sleep and piece of mind to raise another generation, fathers who make the decision to stay even when hopelessness would drive a lesser man away from his family, the wife and husbands and fathers and mothers who put their lives on hold so that their loved ones can get the care that they need when they are desperately ill. The children who care for their parents and grandparents as they age and need some of the guidance that they had passed down during their lives. Women and men who decide to take care of themselves in spite of what the cultures ideas of what a good parent might be, knowing deep in their hearts that they are caring for their children as they heal themselves. All of us are heros, if only you know the story behind the heroics.
So for some of those things that have popped up that I wanted to share. In Britain the placard that we call handicapped parking permits are called priority parking permits. Now that Doug qualifies for one, it seems so much more dignified to say that he gets priority parking as opposed to being so debilitated that walking the extra hundred feet or so would do him in. I have also come to understand that men are inherently different than women in that their physical strength is an integral part of their idea of who they are. As I watch and hear Doug struggle with opening a zip lock bag or a jar, my immediate reaction is to get angry at his frustration. On further reflection, I understand that a huge chunk of his idea of who he is and how he is in the world has been stolen by this effort to save his life. It is a simple subtle difference in how each of us operate in the world, I accept the ebbs and flows of my physical strength, I was weak after having had both kids, from blood loss and sheer effort, I also got very debilitated after a couple bouts with blood clots in the wrong places but it didn't bother me that much, it certainly didn't make me angry. I take that back, I was angry, only I inflicted it on to myself to do further damage. Doug and other men that I have close contact with inflict it out on to those of us who happen to care for them, two and four leggeds a like. He can then apologize to the cats or the dog and go on with his life. I however get to recycle it through my system until it gets mulched into either another chronic illness or hopefully a healing insight. Who's to say which way is healthier?
I realize that the last little bit of writing there may make no sense to anyone who reads it, funny thing is, I don't really care enough to go back and read it or to edit for public consumption. The point is to write it so that it is out of me.
We are looking at getting another PET scan for Doug on Weds this coming week to assess the progress of his disease and his treatment. He is planning on returning back to work in 13 days. We have not discussed what he will do if the scan results are not what we hope for. He is sick and tired of being sick and tired. He is not willing to spend any more money on treatment that makes him feel like shit, we actually don't have anymore money to spend on treatment. It has only been 14 weeks, less than 100 days of this journey, but he says that he is done. We will see what is in store for him as it unfolds. I do know that going back to his work environment will either kill him or cure him, it defines him so much more than our marriage or his other relationships do. That fact used to make me sad or angry, but any more it has become a fact of our lives together, not a reason for strife just something to acknowledge and respect. It is his way of being a hero, to care for and nurture the generation of students that sit in is classes and show up at his office door for help. It may well be the way toward his last little bit of healing from this aggressive invader that he has shared his life with for the past year. If not, he will go out doing what he loves and being the him that he recognizes and is comfortable with. What more does a person need? Merry Christmas to all you ordinary heros in my life and around this big ball that we live on together.