How is it February?

I don’t even know where to begin.

My father had a stroke on Dec. 8 while on a business trip to California. On Dec. 12, he underwent open-heart surgery to remove the tumor that caused the stroke and also to undergo a double bypass. My mom flew to Santa Clara to be with him, and they ended up staying in California for nearly two full months. While there are plenty of things to be grateful for (financially, medically, and otherwise), it has been a long, hard road since this whole mess first started.

Finally, thankfully, Dad was approved to fly home to East Tennessee in the last week of January. Unable to fly commercial, they were afforded a leer jet for medical transport, followed by an ambulance ride from the airport to the rehab center where he’s been since. My sister booked a flight from Chicago, and we were all together in one room – finally – by the beginning of February.

It is unreal, honestly. The stroke is making everything difficult, as one would imagine. How does one focus on treating cancer when basic activities, such as walking, are so hard to accomplish?

Again, we are grateful for small yet significant mercies – Dad’s swift progress, his stubborn resolve, personable and knowledgeable healthcare providers. He is a determined man, and we’ve been placed in good hands. Still, we are anxious to move even more quickly, eager to get started on treating this damn tumor that no one saw coming.

As one does, I’ve spent a lot of time remembering fun memories from my childhood and looking at photos of my parents when they were first sweethearts. I have pictures taped to the lamp on my desk so I can easily be reminded of how good things have been.

In between the moments of frustration and desperation, we’ve been able to laugh and enjoy being together. It’s so easy to get stuck in sadness! It’s too easy to slip into a dark place and dwell on the things that scare me. So, when the laughter comes, it feels like a release. Plus, everything is funnier in sleep-deprived delirium.

It’s been especially nice to have more Treadways around to share stories, laugh, and help carry the weight of our burdens and decisions.

In between these moments and trips to the rehab center, our life is trudging along at a steady pace. The boys are keeping up with school, I’m teaching at the co-op and putting out a monthly magazine, and Chuck’s work schedule is as steady as usual.

Fortunately, I was afforded a surprise Girls Weekend prior to my parents flying home. Oh, how I needed those two days! We stayed in a cabin in Townsend and did precious little, only getting out of our pajamas exactly one time to grab a quick meal.

In the quieter moments of my day, I retreat to the bedroom. More now than ever I need to cut out the extra noise and distraction (in true INFJ fashion). Salem, per usual, is my constant companion. I don’t know how you non-animal people cope. If I could slap a therapy vest on this cat and carry him around with me, I totally would.