Sick

This picture proves it is possible to not understand something while still understanding that that something will change everything forever.

It has been two days since my mother informed me that my stepfather may be dying. I don't know how, but it has taken 48 hours for this to process. I told a few people, but I said it like one of those matter of fact sort of things, like "My vehicle registration is about to expire." But today, like a dreadful invading monster, the reality has busted through to my consciousness. And now I'm really scared because the word "dying" has entered into my vocabulary for the first time in my life concerning a parent.

The disease is called Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. I'd never heard of this disease before Friday and I find myself amazed at the way something that was non-existent in my life is suddenly so much so--like the villain or the killer who is a complete stranger to the victim. The prognosis that my stepfather received was a window between four and six years. But the disease is so rare that some people live longer and some shorter. So it's one of those agonizingly fucked up prognoses that a doctor gives that doesn't tell you shit. My stepfather started having difficulty breathing around six months ago or so. At first he was convinced that the air vents in our house were filled with mold or that some other environmental circumstance was contributing toward his condition. He's always been one of those guys that actually never fears going to the doctor and I thought that maybe he bordered on being a hypochondriac. I told my mom as much and dismissed much of this as a simple allergy problem or something that might be in his head. Don't I feel like the fucking asshole at the bar now.

So today is Sunday and I haven't had much of an appetite. This swelling ball of evil called dread has taken residence in my gut and a child-like sadness has fallen over my brain today. I suppose the best I can hope for is that this is just the first of the "bad days" that my mom talked about us all having in the future. Some days we'll be fine and some days we won't when we inevitably turn our attention to the prospective future. But who fucking cares about this little discomfort of mine? He is the one I'm worried about. My mother is the one I'm worried about. I told her the other day that I could be strong and that God would carry us through this. To stay positive gives him the best chance to overcome. I mean, I had a list of assuring statements I'd probably seen on TV over the years that were just pouring out of my stupid mouth. But I didn't know what else to do. My mother told me that she was so thankful to have adult sons that she could lean on. Yet I haven't felt like such a little boy since--well I guess since I was one. Can I really be for her what she expects me to be and what I promise I'll be? Fuck if I know and that lack of an answer is messing with me mightily at the moment. You see, I have had the luxury of living my self-centered little city boy single existence up to this point. No wife, no kids, no pets, no plants, no real worries outside of my own mortal sphere. Reality and possible responsibility--true responsibility--is an unwelcome guest. So now is the time to man up, I suppose. Even if I have no idea on earth how.

Last night while this all still seemed partial fiction, I made a pledge to quit smoking on June 29th--the day after my 29th birthday party. I'm not sure if I saw this as some sort of appropriate sacrifice or just a way to assuage my own guilt. God knows I've never wanted to quit for my own good. But I always vote blue in a red state so I have the right to bitch and I guess I have to find a way to quit to be a legitimate supporter for a man who may die of lung failure. Spelled out in black in white, that should be that. Discipline when it has come to my personal habits has never been a strength, however. I've set a date just to give myself something to shoot for. I hope I can do it. I hope I can be what I need to be for them. I hope I can quit smoking without gaining weight since I'm more vain than I care to admit. I hope I can stop being so fucking shallow. I hope my stepfather lives for twenty more years. I hope my mother can hold it together. I hope for hope. Now he is sick. So we're all sick. And the little boy has to finally extricate himself from an existence filled with excuses. I just need help. I also hope I get that, too. God, please help me. Help us. I don't know how to do this.

Song of the Day: "All I Need"
Artist: Radiohead
Album: "In Rainbows"
Lyric of Possible Relevance:

"I'm the next act waiting in the wings
I'm an animal
Trapped in your hot car
I am all the days that you choose to ignore
You are all I need
You are all I need."