My Bad Day

A long story very condensed:

Emily of all the health issues was doing wonderfully in Colorado, and finished her high school work, but couldn't find a job.

Then she went to Bible school and did wonderfully there.

So we just knew she was all better and could live in Oregon again when she came home for Christmas. I found a job for her with disgusting ease. We didn't make any contingency plans because she was going to be well here. Stupid stupid.

She came home. Within a few days she felt tired and draggy and headachy again as I looked on with sinking hopes and growing horror.

She tried living at Grandma's house. Nothing changed. Matt was sure being in town would help, so she stayed with him in Corvallis and if anything she got worse.

Once again we were at the Red Sea, knowing we had to do something, but with no options at all. There are not enough words in English to describe how tired I am of being up against the Red Sea like this.

We went across the mountains to Sunriver over New Years. After a night's sleep Emily was herself again, lively and full of energy and popping with ideas and full of fun.

We came home and within an hour she could feel the headache marching in and all the good stuff leaving.

We decided she would spend a few months with my sister Rebecca's family in Harrisonburg, Virginia. She knows she can feel well there, and there are lots of volunteer opportunities, and she'll be in good hands. And of course we hope she can find some sort of job, somewhere. [Broad hint to any readers in VA with a little fabric store or day care or something.]

She left today and is trying to sidestep all the snowstorms en route.

I cannot tell you this, either: how hard it was to see her go. When she first left home she was eager to leave, to get well, to go have a life. This time, she wanted so badly to stay home, and I wanted so badly to have her here.

So I've been in that awful mode all day where I desperately hope that no one is nice to me because if they are, I start crying. So naturally Aunt Susie was all kindness despite the fact that she's worried about Milford, and my sister, on the phone, has been sweetness and empathy itself, and then in the grocery store I ran into my friend Frances and I do hope she has dried out her sweatshirt by now.

Frances is amazing. Somehow she steps angel-like into my life whenever I hit bottom, and today in MegaFoods she asked me how I was and ended up hugging me while I cried fervently, and she said all the right things that I don't remember anymore, and yeah, a somewhat damp production.

Meanwhile, am I ever allowed to just wallow in grief and recover on my own terms? No. Are you kidding? Jenny was with me, as we were getting groceries after her piano lesson. So the grocery store scene went something like this:

Quote of the Day:
Frances: Hi Dorcas, how are you doing?
Me: Well actually I'm having a terrible day [sniff] and Emily left today...
Jenny: Mom!
Frances: [comforting murmurs]
me: ...and she in the worst way didn't want to go and I don't know why it's so HARD this time...
Jenny: MOM!!
Frances: [comforting murmurs and a warm hug]
Me: ...I mean it's even harder than the first time she went away and...
Jenny: MOM!!!
Me: What?
Jenny: Lunchables!!
Me: Huh?
Jenny: Look!! Lunchables!! They're really good for lunches!!
Me: Jenny, they're way too expensive.
Me: [closing statements to Frances]
Frances: [closing statements to me]
We part ways.
Jenny: Mom!! Your eyes are wet!! You look kind of like you're crying!!
We finish, pay, and go to the car.
Me: Jenny, when I am having a conversation with another ADULT especially if it's a SERIOUS conversation it is very RUDE to interrupt about something like LUNCHABLES! You have to WAIT.
Jenny: Oh, sorry.
Me: I mean, if there's something big and important, like someone is bleeding in the next aisle, THEN you can interrupt us.
Jenny: What if it's just like a paper cut?
Me: [thinks words not lawful to be uttered and laughs in spite of herself and thinks, as her friend Arlene says, Oh well, I'll live if I don't die.]