It wasn't great for me either.
I found out about the terrorist attacks on Paris at about dinner time. People react to news like this in different ways, for all sorts of reasons: personal connection to the people/place, beliefs, knowledge and interpretation of current events, culture, values, religion, etc. etc.
My reaction was a blast of anger.
Anger because why this? why this again? how much worse will it get? what now? who's next? who's fault?
My social media community, who apparently are a lot more optimistic about humanity than I am, posted how sad they were, how they wished for peace. Prayers were fashionable, including a great many atheist/agnostic ones. Candles and French flags multiplied.
Anybody who talked about peace, hope or reconciliation with me on Friday the 13th would have gotten a reaction something like this. (starting at about 0:40. No musical introduction necessary!).
Just as well that nobody tried.
About half an hour after I started following the news, I got a call from my mom that my dad had been admitted to the hospital. He was no longer able to swallow food. (In September my dad was diagnosed with cancer of the esophagus.) Up until this week he was strong, although eating was getting progressively harder. This sudden apparent turn for the worse was very scary, especially since the hospital staff tried to insert a feeding tube when my dad was admitted and weren't able to get it by the tumour. Fortunately, my middle brother was visiting and was there with my parents through all of it.
I booked this week mostly off work, not knowing what would happen next. However, things seem to be going well, for now. The cancer specialists were able to get the feeding tube through on Monday, although even they had some difficulty. My dad has regained a lot of strength and is continuing to run his consulting company from his bedside. All our family has been able to get together on a few occasions and talk about the situation.
My dad has also made his wishes known to us and his medical team. It appears the cancer has spread to one sentinal lymph node, which is in a very difficult location to operate. There is no evidence that it has spread to other organs however. At least one doctor was suggesting palliative care, concerned that aggressive chemo/radiation and surgery could kill faster than the cancer. My dad does not want that. He wants the chance for a cure or a death that comes quickly. His mind is strong and clear. We are glad that he knows what he wants, but deeply sad that all of the options are painful, both physically and emotionally.
I spent Monday and Tuesday with my mom, offering company and ways to help. It's hard in some ways to offer help to my parents because they are so independent, and so insistent that we focus on our needs, not theirs. I pretty much had to show up and be like "I'm here and there's nothing you can do about it." I guess I also want to be there to share the burden, to not be an outsider. After a couple of days, however, my mom seemed to be worrying more about me than herself, so I gave her some space. I understand that it's hard for her to know what she wants.
We respond to stress in similar ways, so it is sort of comical when we are together, as we both try to make up for the gaps in awareness we both have. I put my phone down and can't find it five seconds later. My mom looks furiously for her scarf, and when she gives up and starts to put on another one, realizes she already has the one she wanted around her neck. Reading and processing information is a struggle: we both stare at the same document without being able to find the word we are looking for. I finally find it and we breathe a sigh of relief. I scrape the car on the side of the garage I've backed out of dozens of times. My mom back seat drives constantly when I take her places. I tell her I do better when I use my own brain. Then I leave the window open when I park (luckily nothing was stolen). We laugh hysterically as we try to set the voice mail on her new cell phone and our snickering and bickering gets recorded on the message.
Oh well. From what I've read, sometimes the most important thing in a crisis is just to have a few hours here and there that feel normal. Being able to work has much improved my dad's spirits. And the rest of us have been able to share and enjoy a few moments of the mundane, even of the humourous. I try to make a plan for the day and follow it. It's weird because I feel tired but can't relax and rest, and feel like I should be doing a lot but struggle to get motivation/energy.
I finally sent an email out to my friends because I was worried they would think I didn't care about them anymore. As an introvert socializing takes effort so during hard times I usually don't bother. But I know it's not good to be isolated either. Luckily the people I am close to are much the same in temperament and they understand, and it has felt good to reach out.
I understand that my dad will start chemo/radiation next week. The next few weeks will be hard. We don't know how he will respond to the treatment or even if he will survive it. It feels like I am in the eye of the storm right now.
As for the situation in the rest of the world, my anger has cooled to a slow burn and I no longer want to blast anyone in particular to the bottom of the Marianas Trench. I know it isn't anywhere near that simple. I have a renewed resolve to be the best and most informed citizen I can be.
Meanwhile, I'm enjoying all the AJ hugs and Mr. Turtle hugs I can. A couple of shots from our professional photo shoot at the beginning of October:
About half an hour after I started following the news, I got a call from my mom that my dad had been admitted to the hospital. He was no longer able to swallow food. (In September my dad was diagnosed with cancer of the esophagus.) Up until this week he was strong, although eating was getting progressively harder. This sudden apparent turn for the worse was very scary, especially since the hospital staff tried to insert a feeding tube when my dad was admitted and weren't able to get it by the tumour. Fortunately, my middle brother was visiting and was there with my parents through all of it.
I booked this week mostly off work, not knowing what would happen next. However, things seem to be going well, for now. The cancer specialists were able to get the feeding tube through on Monday, although even they had some difficulty. My dad has regained a lot of strength and is continuing to run his consulting company from his bedside. All our family has been able to get together on a few occasions and talk about the situation.
My dad has also made his wishes known to us and his medical team. It appears the cancer has spread to one sentinal lymph node, which is in a very difficult location to operate. There is no evidence that it has spread to other organs however. At least one doctor was suggesting palliative care, concerned that aggressive chemo/radiation and surgery could kill faster than the cancer. My dad does not want that. He wants the chance for a cure or a death that comes quickly. His mind is strong and clear. We are glad that he knows what he wants, but deeply sad that all of the options are painful, both physically and emotionally.
I spent Monday and Tuesday with my mom, offering company and ways to help. It's hard in some ways to offer help to my parents because they are so independent, and so insistent that we focus on our needs, not theirs. I pretty much had to show up and be like "I'm here and there's nothing you can do about it." I guess I also want to be there to share the burden, to not be an outsider. After a couple of days, however, my mom seemed to be worrying more about me than herself, so I gave her some space. I understand that it's hard for her to know what she wants.
We respond to stress in similar ways, so it is sort of comical when we are together, as we both try to make up for the gaps in awareness we both have. I put my phone down and can't find it five seconds later. My mom looks furiously for her scarf, and when she gives up and starts to put on another one, realizes she already has the one she wanted around her neck. Reading and processing information is a struggle: we both stare at the same document without being able to find the word we are looking for. I finally find it and we breathe a sigh of relief. I scrape the car on the side of the garage I've backed out of dozens of times. My mom back seat drives constantly when I take her places. I tell her I do better when I use my own brain. Then I leave the window open when I park (luckily nothing was stolen). We laugh hysterically as we try to set the voice mail on her new cell phone and our snickering and bickering gets recorded on the message.
Oh well. From what I've read, sometimes the most important thing in a crisis is just to have a few hours here and there that feel normal. Being able to work has much improved my dad's spirits. And the rest of us have been able to share and enjoy a few moments of the mundane, even of the humourous. I try to make a plan for the day and follow it. It's weird because I feel tired but can't relax and rest, and feel like I should be doing a lot but struggle to get motivation/energy.
I finally sent an email out to my friends because I was worried they would think I didn't care about them anymore. As an introvert socializing takes effort so during hard times I usually don't bother. But I know it's not good to be isolated either. Luckily the people I am close to are much the same in temperament and they understand, and it has felt good to reach out.
I understand that my dad will start chemo/radiation next week. The next few weeks will be hard. We don't know how he will respond to the treatment or even if he will survive it. It feels like I am in the eye of the storm right now.
As for the situation in the rest of the world, my anger has cooled to a slow burn and I no longer want to blast anyone in particular to the bottom of the Marianas Trench. I know it isn't anywhere near that simple. I have a renewed resolve to be the best and most informed citizen I can be.
Meanwhile, I'm enjoying all the AJ hugs and Mr. Turtle hugs I can. A couple of shots from our professional photo shoot at the beginning of October: