hit the bottom and escape
Written by patty on December 10th, 2008
A look back to last fall, when the center could not hold.
Scandal and secrecy are like a blanket, covering me with the tales that aren’t mine, the secrets I’ll take to the grave. A career at perilous risk, the careening marriage, a story of heartbreak told deep in the woods as we sat on a footbridge and basked in the autumn sun. It’s safe with me. You can tell me anything; I won’t tell. It covers me, this blanket, keeping me warm against the chill as I seal my lips and keep your secrets close.
Until this secret – lighting the blanket on fire, charring my flesh and smothering everything inside. Incendiary harm. Parents who couldn’t and wouldn’t know until there was hope. A woman who needed her mommy and instead got her sisters, voices across the phone lines as familiar as the sound of rain on the roof. Sisters researching the words, deciphering while we learned. And keeping the secret.
Cardiac patients with failing hearts, cardiologists who keep our parents alive. Don’t tell, these doctors tell us. Don’t tell. Not yet. Wait. Let’s see. Wait. Until there’s hope.
I tended the secret as best I could, keeping its flame under cover as it burned me for six long weeks. My own doctor agrees: you can’t tell. Keep it, your secret, as it takes its toll on you. Get more rest, take these meds. This inhaler will help you breathe. Hang on for the hopeful news. It’s coming.
Get it off me, it’s burning me alive – this secret I didn’t want. Mom, dad, are you home? I’ll be right over. Everything’s fine.
There’s something I have to tell you. She’s going to be fine. But, listen, it’s something. You have to know. I have to tell you. Come, sit down.
I soften the blow, telling bits and pieces. The truth, the partial truth, and nothing but the fabricated truth so help me god, because the whole story will never be told. The whole story would reveal how bad it was. It’s not in my script. That… that’s the secret that burns me like eternal damnation. You’ll never know. That secret is safe with me.
It’s in her brain. She’s responding. There’s hope, so much hope. And doctors, and a gifted brain surgeon. A brain surgeon! Am I dreaming? I can’t call him a brain surgeon so I call him a specialist instead.
Get this secret off me. Stop drop and roll in my childhood living room.
It’s one lesion. Not six tumors. One lesion. I follow the script, carefully written by three sisters as our fourth defies the odds.
Burned. I go forward. The worst moments, speaking the words I never want to say again. Your daughter’s cancer is back, and it’s in her brain. The pain etched on beloved faces, incendiary harm. I want these words back. I immediately feel the relief coming from speaking the carefully crafted truth, and I’d give anything to take these words back.
epilogue
Give me your secrets. The routine of a risky choice, a shameful decision, an embarrassing predicament. My god, give them all to me. They have no power, these secrets. No chance to ruin me. No incendiary harm. I won’t tell. They keep me warm me as I seal my lips and keep your secrets close.
11
AM
Your writing is out of this world. It is truly breathtaking.
I cannot, will not, no effing way will I harbor secrets that will destroy me. I learned the hard way. They will decay your whole soul like the bad clementine in the box. NOT GONNA DO IT.
So I’ve got nothing for you. But I’ll surely be back>
For Myself’s last blog post: Just Like the Ones I Used to Know
11
AM
speaks to me in so many ways.
god, i hope she’s doing better.
ms picket to you’s last blog post: Blues, Confession, And More Snowglobes
11
AM
So much to say although I am unable to articulate my feelings and comments. So here it is: You are amazing and I love you. Let this be a warm blanket for you in hard times.
11
PM
Wow, I just keep going, wow. You do as I do. Carefully crafted truths sometimes need to be built for those we love. Prayers for you sister…
Mike’s last blog post: This Should Be Fun
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PM
Patty
My heart goes out to you and your family – most of us have had far more experience with cancer than we ever need.
To have it happen to a sibling – heartrending.
You’re a wonderful person – hang in there.
Best always to you and yours.