Yokels, The Days Inn and the Smell of Lube

I just want to be the first to say that I hate small town hospitals. My Mom checked herself into her local-yokel “hospital.” The place is a real dump. I actually feel dirty when I’m in there. It could use a good bath and new paint or just be knocked down. Anyway, she had her surgery at the end of last week. The doctors think everything went well. We should actually get the results back today. They were removing some cancer cells they had found in her colon. It had spread to the wall of the colon so that made it a little more serious, but the doctors said that everything looked well.

Now I love my Mom dearly, but she at times has a way of being dramatic that can only be described as “theatrical.” She made me realize something. Feelings are like treasures. They should be buried deep, deep, deep inside. She was acting so depressed and despondent that she was, I think affecting her treatment. She was calling me telling me that this was the end and that she hoped that I would let my son know that she cared for him. This happened more than one time too.

I guess it’s nice to know that you are the person that someone calls when they need a pick me up, but I feel that you must force yourself to have a positive attitude in the face of a life threatening illness. The body has a better chance to cure itself from the inside with medicine and help from the outside if we all think positive. In short I hope that when my “sick time” comes that I don’t let the fear show and I will be able to bear up and be very “British” about it in front of people. If you’re positive people around you are positive and that reinforces your positive-ness (I know that’s not a word)

I had my five minutes this week talking to my soldier. It’s really not enough. I always feel empty after each call. I thought when this process started that I would be more uplifted after the calls. I want them to never stop, but just as soon as I get into a groove to talk about EVERYTHING that happened in the past week he has to go. I’ve started to make bullet points on important things so that I don’t miss my chance to say it.
He said that he had mail call everyday. On their website for the base, I was reading that mail call seemed to happen on Sunday only so I wrote about 3-4 letters a week. I think this week I will write him everyday. Hopefully I can say EVERYTHING I have to say that way.

Next week I am going on vacation. I have mixed feelings about it. It was supposed to be my mom, step-father and me taking my son to Disney World for a few days to get away for a good time as a family and for me to get my mind off being lonely and missing my soldier. Because of my Moms cancer I now have to go alone with just me and my son. Not that I won’t enjoy spending time with him. It just won’t be the same as it would have been with everyone else or my soldier.

What I am really excited about is it being less than 30 days till the Army’s graduation date. I will be in South Carolina over the July 4th weekend. I really am looking forward to seeing him again and I have so many questions. I wonder what he looks like now. I hope that he hasn’t changed too much in his looks or personality. I guess that’s always been a fear in the back of my head. “What if he is not the same? Will we still get along? After he’s been surrounded by all those perfect, young Army boys will he still want me? It’s also his birthday that weekend so I am planning on taking a cake, presents and anything else I can find and have a party at the hotel for him.

I do hope that he can stay overnight at least one night while I am there. It sounded like the Saturday after graduation they could do that if they got permission. Most people would think that after that long without him it would be a night filled with sex, passion and the smell of lube. I think actually what’s going to happen is it will be the first night in a long time that I will be comfortable. We will probably fall fast asleep while he wraps his arms around me. That will make even the crummiest Days Inn a luxury for me.