From an email that should have been a blog post:

You know what? Life sucks. I'm so tired of getting my footing back and then life throwing a curveball and I land in the gutter. Last weekend I had a wonderful time spending it at a Scrapbooking retreat with Eric's mom. I decided to see my mom on my way out of town, since I don't see her often and she's in a recovery center for a broken foot. And I wanted to show her all the pages I had just scrapped of her wedding. Do you have any idea how hard it is to scrap a wedding for a couple that is divorced and completely wrong for each other?

So I show up as they are changing out my mom's IV stuff. I might have been fine if that was all it was. But because of an infection, they have her hooked up to multiple lines on one row of her arm. I instantly felt queasy. I had to sit down on the opposite side of the bed and look away from her because every time I looked at her I could see her other arm and the nurse STILL messing with it. It seems that because of my surgeries last year, I've become worse around needles and blood and IV's, rather than better.

OK, so imagine me sitting there, holding my mom's hand, and I'm all clammy and sweaty and trying not to bolt from the room like an idiot. And then my brother walks in with my Father in tow. Have I told you that he now invokes panic attacks when I see him?

After 5 minutes of me not making eye contact or talking to anyone, I mumble that I need to leave. Mike took pity on me and suggested that he and Dad give us some time alone and they'll come back later. Dad called out that he loved me, but at least he didn't try and touch me this time - that's what started the panic attacks about 3 years ago, when he hugged me against my will at Christmas.

The nurse FINALLY left about a minute after the guys did, so I could finally make eye contact again. We talked briefly, but I wasn't going to be able to pull myself together until I got out of there. I tried to race to the ferry so I could cry during the ride - I kept repeating myself that I'll be ok, I just have to reach the ferry on time. The ferry had not yet left, but it was full so I had to drive around. But not before pulling over at this little store a block away and balling my eyes out for 15 minutes. Then I went inside and bought 4 candy bars and a mini pecan pie, gorged myself, dried my eyes AGAIN, and then I finally left for home.

No more crying since then, but I just haven't felt myself since. Sunday night and Monday I just felt totally defeated. Yesterday I forced myself to take a shower and put on make up, play with my hair (I have lost the knack on how to straighten it when it's this long), and go out to run some errands/do some shopping.

I returned a cryptic message from my sister when I got home. That's when she told me that our Grandmother has cancer (apparently it's a recurrence), it is resisting all chemo and meds and radiation, and she has between 2 weeks and 2 months to live.

Now I have to figure out what I want to do about that. I feel so guilty about never learning more about my Dad's mom before she died, but that is all on my Dad and his family for treating us so bad that we had to remove ourselves from all of their influence. And now because my family refuses to kick him out of their lives, I am forced to distance myself from my own immediate family. Which means I never see my Mom's family. Thanks again Dad.

We're all getting together to see her next Saturday, but I feel I should do more than that. I'm just not sure I have the balls to do it.