Trying to find a new normal

It might seem a little early for a post about trying to get back to normal.  But the fact is, I’ve been trying to make things feel normal for a year now.  After Meg got an MRI done that first night in the hospital back in June, she relayed to me how the radiology assistant told her that life was going to be different now.  He said that as foreign as it seemed at that moment, she would eventually adjust to a “new normal”.  (At that point we still had doctors telling us not to worry, that Meg likely just had an infection, so these words made me really nervous.)  And it took several months, but eventually we settled into a somewhat “normal” routine.  Or, I guess, as normal as it could be under the circumstances.  Things never went back to feeling like they did before, and I wouldn’t say any part of those 9 months ever got easier.  But over time, it somehow started feeling normal to me.  Even if normal meant Meg had to get injected with medication that made her sick every two weeks.  Even if normal meant that no matter what we were doing, I had a constant underlying worry that we were slowly losing control of the cancer and there just weren’t any good treatment options out there.  And even if normal meant that after trying to be strong out in the world each day, we had to hold back tears just to say good night.

I’m not sure if it ever felt normal to Meg.  She never gave up hope that we would someday get back to our old life, one that centered on friends, jobs, and starting a family.  I think she had to maintain that hope to get through the days.   And while I obviously had the same hope as Meg, as I learned more about the lost battles of other stomach cancer warriors, I started hoping more and more to just maintain our “new” normal for as long as possible.  Because I felt like at least I was growing familiar with that normal.

The last day Meg was in the hospital, I spent some time talking with her oncologist alone in the hospital room.  He turned the discussion towards me, and said that he worries about people in my situation.  So much of my life had been focused on Megan’s care over the past year, and now that would leave a large void.  But for me, it goes so much further than that.  Meg has been the one constant throughout my entire adult life.  While I am blessed to have such a large group of friends from our days at UVA, I don’t have anyone I would call a best friend, because for me that person was always Megan.  And while I tried preparing myself as much as possible for what was likely going to happen, there were some things that I couldn’t prepare myself for.  Like the first night that I spent alone in our house last week, when I started crying in the middle of making myself dinner.  Or every time my phone buzzes in my pocket and for a split second I think, “probably Meg.”  Or when I don’t feel like doing anything because everything just seems a little different.

So I’m going to have to try to find a new normal again.  And I’m not quite sure the best way to do that.  I’ve spent two weeks sitting around, not feeling like doing too much.  But I have this feeling in my gut that says I need to take advantage of every day.  And I’m not sure that sitting around is going to help me get to the point of doing that.  So I’ve tried pushing myself into doing a few things. 

The Thursday after the memorial service, I went to a friend’s house.  I was able to laugh a few times, but it was too soon.  It just didn’t feel right to me, and was actually a little depressing realizing that life was going to go on as usual without Meg.  I missed her.  I went to another friend’s house this past Friday, and it was a little better.  I still missed her, but this time I knew what to expect, so it was more familiar. 

I quickly made a decision that I wanted to go forward with our band’s first scheduled gig on April 11.  We had booked it months ago, and Meg would have wanted us to do it.  It gets back to the goal of trying to make the most of the time that you are given.  Plus, playing guitar has always been one of the things that makes me feel most comfortable.  After Meg was diagnosed in July and I didn’t do much for several weeks, I was ready to have band practice before I was ready to hang out with a group of friends.  So in a way, it’s almost a form of therapy for me.

And I’m going to head back to work tomorrow.  Last week would have been too soon, and to be honest I could probably use another week.  But whether I do it tomorrow or a month from tomorrow, I’m going to have to deal with the same things.  So I’d rather try to deal with them now.

That being said, I’m not ready to “move on” yet, not by any means.  We went to visit Megan’s office today, and while I was ok with taking a few pictures and trinkets, I was not ready to tear everything down and clean it out.  That’s still Meg’s office, at least for now. I’m not ready for it to not be her office yet.  Same goes for the things in our house. 

Those last few weeks, Meg told me several times that she wanted me to live my life fully.  She told me that she knew I would be ok.  So I want to live life fully, and I want to be ok.  But I’m going to have to learn how to be ok with living life fully without Meg, which is something I never pictured I’d have to do.  So that’s my challenge: trying to make the most out of every day, but not rushing myself to do things before I am ready.  Once that settles in, maybe I’ll be able to feel somewhat normal again.