I'VE SEEN BETTER MONTHS

I have blogged before that literature and my love of reading pulled me through many a difficult time when I was young. In fact, I believe it saved me. When I was ten, I sank into a deep depression and I knew something was wrong. I began to read anything that I could find on depression, books such as "The Bell Jar" and "I Never Promised You a Rose Garden." I'd take down books and sit at the long library table, reading about schizophrenia. I loved the book "Sybil." When there were movies on television such as "Lisa, Bright and Dark" I'd prey that my father wasn't watching something. Books were how I battled back against the damage done by Mr. "D".

I think that my outlet is now writing, and I have to keep doing it. This has been a bad month. First there was work. There has been an ongoing issue, which has made me feel ever more isolated and as though I am a failure.

Then, there was the phone call from my mother one morning. My father had received some test results. The blood work indicated that he might have bone cancer. Actually, not might have---she said that the test results indicated that he did have it. I asked my mother what the treatment was going to be. She did not know, as my father had not asked. There hasn't been any follow up. Nothing from the doctor as to a treatment protocol. I grilled my father on this. He thinks there was some bizarre mistake; an error at the lab and that they want to make this go away. This is plausible, as there was a recent story in the news about gross lab errors. My Dad told me that when he was at the Doctor's office the physician asked him about some doctor that he hadn't seen and whom he hadn't been referred to. This gives credence to the error possibility. I told my Dad to find out. If nothing else, there might be some guy out there who has cancer, but was given the all clear. He needs to know the truth. My Dad, though, isn't doing anything. I think he doesn't want to know, just in case, because he has been in a lot of pain.

It is all so stressful, beyond words. Those who have read my blogs, know how I feel about my father. He's a wonderful person.

Then, there was the incident with my mother and her diabetes. My father awoke to find her clammy and unresponsive. An ambulance was called and her readings were very low---1.9 in Canadian diabetic readings. She isn't overweight, eats well, yet it isn't being controlled.

Dad is worried about her, Mom is worried about Dad and I am stressed about the both of them as well as the issue at work.

I've wanted to write, yet my computer has frustrated me. NORTON CAN STICK IT. It runs constant scans that bump me off line. Even if I am merely checking my e-mail, it begins to run a full system scan. I changed the setting, but it still goes on. The screen freezes up, and all that remains is the box with the "Norton is running a full system scan" message, which never clears. When I've tried to log onto Blogger, I usually get a message that my cookies are disabled and I won't be able to log on. It's the constant scans that keep disabling the cookies.

I need to write, instead of withdrawing into myself. It is how I work through things. I need to see what others are thinking. Depression is like pulling the blankets over your head and taking to your bed; only you are walking around---catatonic and zombie-like. The dangerous irony of depression is that when you most need people, you are unable to make any move to reach out. Writing; stuggling to make sense of it and putting it out there for others to read, is a start in dealing with it.