Blessings Abundant

Today I dug into the next room on my housecleaning list, the laundry room.  And it took the entire day.  Charlie had come to fix Dad's dryer shortly before I arrived, right when all the brain tumor chaos started.  They had left ucky sticky linty stuff on the floor from that work, and it had been calling my name.  Also, Dad's barn clothes (until the tumor started, he worked at a nearby dairy farm, helping with the morning milking) had dirtied the washer pretty badly.  So I emptied the room and brought the vacuum in and cleaned the lint and dirt and behind the washer and dryer the best I could, then washed down all of the surfaces on both. 

But I didn't anticipate the black mold inside the washer in the place where you put the liquid fabric softener.  I suddenly felt like I needed a hazmat suit, or at least a good mask.  Yuck!  That alone probably took an hour of scrubbing plus soaking of parts, dousing in vinegar, and running the washer empty with bleach to get all the bits out that I rinsed away.

Lots of odd socks and clean rags and misc. stuff had just accumulated, too, so I did a lot of sorting and putting laundry away, then washed the floor, cupboard, counter-top, and baseboards.  I stayed out of the cupboards and Mom's bedroom closets yesterday.  I can always come back to those if I have time, after the first round of deep cleaning the main areas.

The "after" picture:

Mom says that when her Mennonite friends clean house for someone going through tough times, they consider it an act of "blessing" the recipients with their good work.  I thought a lot as I worked about how I would want to bless Mother, wishing I could bless her with my sponge, that it could be that easy.  I hope she will have some good times yet to come for enjoying what she likes doing in her home.  So I hope to bless her with a neat and clean home so that if she gets the time and energy, she can devote it to her quilting and any other leisure activity she wants, and not housework drudgery. 

Besides, I needed a mission.  I've been slow to start this work here for some reason.  Sadness, despair, depression?  I knew all along I wanted to do it.  I guess now the time was right for it, and my state of mind ready to enable it.

Dad has no trouble staying busy.  He eagerly goes outside for his "therapy" - mowing or weed eating or filling bird feeders or watering flowers.  He genuinely needs his time outdoors on this farm in order to be well.  He said today he feels, still, like 50% of his brain is devoted to thinking about Mom constantly, so he's feeling a little brain deficit himself.  Chris and I had joked about the stress causing us to perform sub-par, and we had both started thinking, "Oh, there's that brain tumor again," when we messed up. Psychosomatic empathy at work, no doubt.

Oh, BTW I asked Dr. Cavaliere's nurse about whether the type of tumor Mother has is at all genetic and whether any of us need be concerned or get tested.  The answer is "No".  This type of tumor is spontaneous and originates in the brain.

Mother had a very good day, health-wise.  Dad took her out to lunch and to K-Mart, then back to Autumn for resting.  She reorganized her room instead.  And called me while I was here cleaning.  It made a nice break to chat with her.  Dad and I went back in this evening about 7:00, with Benji, and she was already in bed in her PJs.  She stayed there and we visited a bit with her.  She had a lot of nice smiles for us today and seemed contented with her situation.  I feel very blessed to have these days with her, and I know Dad does.  He has missed her a lot.  As we talked in the car on the way home, we agreed she is the best we have seen her since this all started.  The Seroquel has been such a blessing.  That and the reduced swelling have brought the real Carol back.  It's amazing that her brain could have sustained such injury and yet has thus far left her very intact.  I remembered tonight how despairing I felt the evening before her surgery, that already she was no longer the Mother I'd known and loved all my life, that already I had lost her.  But she's back now - what a blessing!

As my cousin Pam tells me often, "Cancer is a blessing!"  You get to spend time with your loved one, express your love and support to them, and say what is important.

Tomorrow, onward to conquer the bathroom - maybe - if my body lets me!  Now, off to take a muscle relaxer and slather arnica pain rub all over my sore arms!