#63: "A Whirlwind Trip"

My phone alarm erupted at 2am. I was sleeping on the couch so not wake my wife. The phone was at most two inches from my head and while the sound was turned down very low, the haptic part of the alarm was amazingly loud. Groggily I sat up and put my boots on.

It was last minute, all of this trip. The original plan was for it to be near the end of March when I'd have time to sort out more time off work. But family is family, and sometimes you have to go and see them even if it'll make a zombie out of you.

I was at the C train stop by 2:20. Made it to Penn Station right about 3. Penn Station is a really weird place at 3AM. There was only a Subway sandwich shop open (thankfully not hungry), and the characters milling about certainly had some wild outward stories. They were probably just trying to go home, if they weren't home already. Boarded at 3:20, moving by 3:25.

It was something to worry about but it wasn't supposed to be something to worry about. My parents aren't the youngest people around (they're almost 70), so it was really only a matter of time. My dad had already scared us with a heart attack (or was it two?) and open heart surgery. 

Amtrak Business Class is not all that special. There's more legroom. The southbound train had maybe a half dozen people in the car, so none of us had to sit anywhere near each other. I slept for about an hour between Wilmington and Baltimore. After DC the crew cut off the heat and forgot to close the door; I had to go find them lounging in the Cafe Car and ask them to sort it. We arrived an hour late, which for Amtrak's Northeast Regional is really right on time.

To me at least, my parents have always had what appeared to be an odd relationship. I assume they were close at one point, but over so many years they've just become a machine. Two parts that can only work with each other present. My mom needs someone to do the heavy lifting and run the errands. My dad needs someone to do the thinking for him. His memory is starting to go already; the fine details of directions are becoming increasingly harder for him to get and keep.

It's so rare that I take a taxi anywhere outside New York. I have to ask the driver if he takes credit cards. He swears he does, but when I try to pay him his card reader doesn't work. He has to use a backup Square reader attached to his phone. He talked too much. I didn't need to have small talk about my hometown. I'm sure it's "changed," but everyone from there knows that a new strip mall/road/parking lot/whatever is just lipstick on a pig. We all wanted to cook that pig when we were younger. It took a lot of us to slaughter instead.

My parents are just learning to be good texters. The concept is still just a little foreign to them; they don't understand why a short written message is better than a short voice call. At this point we've already had the voice call, a long one. It was a few weeks ago. It was full of exposition and plans, with promises to text updates so I could get them no matter what was going on at work. The text I feared came early last week.

The folks at the Enterprise rental car location are almost fighting to help me into a car. It's comical, and to top it all off they put me in a comically small car for my size. It's a Hyundai. It has no jump off the line and the radio is all midrange and muddy. They don't offer me an EZ Pass, and I'm annoyed when I have to use my last dollars taking the toll road across the river to Chesterfield. Almost all the hospitals are on the south side.

She had her game face on when she called me, even though I couldn't see it. She'd had terrible pains in her side - one so bad it made her vomit - but her doctor couldn't figure out what might be causing it. Her appendix was already gone, so that was quickly ruled out. They sent her to a specialist, and the specialist did an ultrasound. The pains, they were like cramps, but my mother had had a hysterectomy not long after my brother was born. She forgot that she still had ovaries.

I finally made it to find my father fighting to stay awake in a waiting room chair. My brother had taken the day off as well. There were two close family friends that I hadn't seen in person since I was in high school and it took me forever to realize who they were. I'm glad they'd all been there for my dad while I was still in transit. He was his normal self; bitching about how he couldn't take a short nap because the chair was too uncomfortable. Moments later, he was asleep. He had my mother at the hospital at 6:45AM by himself. He needed it.

The two hour surgery went well - it was actually over early, which can be both good or bad, but in this case apparently the doctor was glad with how it went. There would still be a full biopsy, of course, and that would take at least a week, but he didn't have to take lymph nodes and he must have gotten it all. I didn't get to talk to him. I hope my father got the details right.

She was excited to see me when we finally got to go back to recovery. She didn't know I was coming - only my brother knew - so it was a good way to lighten everyone's spirits. We packed her up and got her home and directly to bed. My brother and I brought home lunch, though both he and I were so hungry we ate while driving home. We put food in the fridge for mom. Dad ate a cheeseburger and then proceeded to take out his false teeth at the kitchen table. He just wanted us to be absolutely certain that they will never, ever not be weird.

To beat the "snowstorm" I changed my return train up to leave at 7pm the same day. I said my goodbyes, fingers crossed that my father wouldn't forget anything, and drove back to the city. Back at the train station Robbie stopped by to visit and brought a few beers. I wish we'd been able to drink them there together; I really needed one by that point. It was good to talk to someone that I wasn't related to for a while as well. I didn't need to worry about watching what familial buttons I didn't want to push. The train was thirty minutes late. Penn Station at 2AM. More strange people. Twenty-five hours after I woke up, I returned home to that couch. 

She's two ovaries and a tumor lighter now. She's already sitting up in her bedroom chair watching television. Back to eating solid foods and complaining about how my father prepares them. Things are already returning to normal, though that could all change next week. We're playing the waiting game; the only game show you are automatically in but never wanted to play.

If you've read this far, thanks for letting me run long. If you guessed that this was the secret that I wrote about a few weeks ago, you'd be right. If you know that cancer is some scary shit, you are human. Remember to tell the people you care about what they mean to you, and do it before time gets in the way.