Last week I cried watching Dead Poets Society.
I don’t know why this is important, but I feel like it is.
Maybe it’s because seeing Neil kill himself and knowing Robin Williams suffered a similar fate…I don’t know. I used to cry watching the movie before, but now it’s a whole other ballgame.
My Nonna came home from her rehab center today. Now that I think about it, she’s been gone for about a month. She was at the hospital before the rehab center. She basically threw herself into congestive heart failure in the hospital emergency room, freaking out and being overdramatic about pain in her knee. Not to discount her pain. I know she was in a lot of it. But if you know Nonna, you know she has a flair for the overdramatic. Her anxiety and constant hyperventilating was more than enough to make her body fill her lungs with water. The doctors called it “flash pulmonary edema”. I was there with my mom that night, and I meant to write about the whole experience but just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I kept procrastinating it.
And maybe there’s not so much to say anymore aside from the fact this was the second time I accompanied my mom to the hospital for a Nonna-related incident. This trip scared me the most though. I tried to breathe with her to steady her breath as the doctors and nurses and technicians were hooking her up to machines to get her to breathe right; In that moment I felt my tears well up. I tried to ignore them, realizing I was breathing more for me than for her. My mom and I didn’t get home ’til about a quarter to four in the morning.
The first Nonna hospital emergency room trip I experienced, I couldn’t help feeling that it was some coming-of-age trial that Life was throwing at me. Demanding me to grow up. Life gets real serious in hospitals.
I don’t know if there’s a point in telling you all this, but maybe I just felt it needed to be said.
I baked Gluten-Free/Dairy Free Orange Creme Cupcakes today, for Nonna. She liked them. She seems to like everything I bake so I’m not sure if she really did or not or if she’d ever tell me otherwise. And although I grated part of my thumb while making orange zest, I’m definitely getting better at making icing. Definitely not one of my strong suits. I always tend to fuck it up somehow. Today was the closest it came to being perfect. I think I had too much liquid/not enough sugar. Next time. It’s always a learning experience and that’s okay. And that goes for everything.
I’m really glad Nonna’s home. I thought I wouldn’t be. No offense to her, but it was kind of like a nice break for my family and me. I could be more liberal with dinner choices, my mom was sleeping all the way though the night without having to wake up to check on her. I could also walk around my room as early or as late as I liked (she sleeps in the room below mine). But now it’s nice to hear her voice again and feel her skin and give her hugs for no reason and have her taste my cupcakes. She’s definitely stronger and in less pain than the last time she was here – and I’m happy for that.
You know, last week I did take out a part of my day to mourn Robin Williams death. I made sure I was alone and just encouraged the tears to come. They did. And after I had cried I felt like a weight had been lifted, and I’m still not sure why that happens – why it feels like such a relief. My head felt lighter. I talked to the air for a bit and then got a tissue and cleaned myself up.
So I thank you for reading this vulnerable snapshot into my life. It just feels nice to share sometimes.