To Tell or Not?

My uncle, my mother's brother, recently had some serious health problems. Its pretty bad. My cousin does an amazing job of taking care of his father, but watching this has me nervous on so many levels. I told my stepmommy and father that if it came down to it, I'd take care of them, no matter what. But watching a parent get old ain't easy. My cousin tried dearly to handle the pressure of it all, but no one else in my family was aware of just how sick my uncle is. Plus my cousin needed money, because taking care of his father takes away from his ability to run his business. I did what I felt was the right thing and began calling my family to really illustrate how my uncle/their brother/their uncle is. They were shocked. They genuinely had no clue.

Despite how I feel about my mother, I even called her. I dunno, part of me was hoping that my family would toss in some coins for my cousin (lord knows they can spare it), plus I guess I also kind of felt like at the end of the day, your family should be the first to know and show up if you're in bad shape. It was the strangest and shortest of conversations, but I communicated what needed to be said. "Your brother is sick and in Atlanta. He's not doing well." And that was my first time talking to my mother in roughly 3 and a half years. Damn, I'm going to make some therapist rich one day. While visiting my cousin and uncle recently, my cousin shared with me "your mom is going to visit soon and she's bringing your sister with her." I'm pretty sure the stupid smile plastered across my face illustrated my feelings. Fuck. Fuckity, fucking, fuck.

My feelings had nothing to do with my mother, it was moreso at my disgusts about my mother bringing my sister to visit my sick uncle. I mean seriously, why bring that bitch? The fact is that my sibling got into some legal trouble and my uncle was kind enough to help her out of it, and then she later destroyed some property that my uncle had to foot the bill for. My uncle let her know that he was unhappy with her shenanigans, and rather than remaining humble and apologizing, she had the gall to claim that she disliked how arrogant he was in his divorce against my aunt. What?! I'm getting pissed off all over again just thinking about it. This isn't even about the fact that the aunt is a non-bio relative (on the contrary, she's a beautiful woman with a beautiful spirit and I wish nothing but good things for her), this is about the fact that this fucked up bitch jumped into a divorce that had absolutely nothing to do with her, to justify disliking my uncle after he let her know how fucked up she is. Truthfully, she's never even had a real relationship with this aunt enough to suddenly feel like she needs to pick a side. And THAT is the bitch my mama chose to bring with her to see my sick uncle. Some goddamned nerve.

Seeing that really made me consider what I'd want to happen, who I'd want to know, and how I'd want folks to react if I ever got sick. My fear was that my fucked up sib would take one look at my uncle's withered body and throw herself on him and scream, groan, and cry about her poor sick uncle- despite having not seen or talked to him since the mid-2000's.

I decided then and there that if I got sick, I'm not telling a lot of folks. Nothing would make me angrier than a bitch that was downright evil toward me collecting sympathy points during moments of my illness. Enter the other day.

So I wrote before about the news that this diabetes thing isn't going well. My first thought was to keep it to myself. No need to worry people. But then I thought about it, and I knew that I had to tell my mom. Well, she's actually my stepmom, but she's shown me more love, compassion, kindness and wisdom than my bio mother ever did. Yeah, this is my mom, right here. So I called her. I told her. Neuropathy. She was worried, but calm. She told me to make sure my diet is okay, she encouraged me to take care of myself and not get worried. My mother is incredible. I felt like that was it. No more telling people.

But as time went on, I felt like some people just needed to know. My biggest fear was something happening to me, and those closest to me being the last to know. Not cool. So I called Sky. I told Daisy, my sister from another mister. Then I called Fred. By the time I called Fred, I was pretty upset. Sky and Daisy both offered insight and support and I'm so honored by how much they showed their concern. But Fred really calmed me. This is a man who can have some pretty dickish tendancies, but he listened to my fears and reminded me that worrying doesn't help things and to do what I know for sure will help. I told another close girlfriend yesterday. At one point, I choked on the words "If I don't get this straight-" I paused. My friend, Christine offered "you'll die?" And the floodgates opened.

It isn't lost on me that I'm sharing all of this on my blog, where it is readily available to any and everyone. Oddly enough, I've always felt like this blog and my facebook page are like my record for when I'm no longer here. So if these words are what people cling to, *shrugs*

I'm feeling more hopeful today. The warming sensation is lessening. It was pretty  hardcore yesterday, but has scaled back. I decided to go hard on the veggies for the next week and some change, and then visit my doctor to see how things line up. But whatever happens to me, I want to make sure that all of the emotion around me and my condition is genuine, not people clinging to me because of fear of leaving kind words unsaid. If you can't be kind to me while I'm here to receive them, I certainly don't want you sharing them when I'm ill, just to alleviate your own guilt.

When the actor, Sherman Hemsley, died of cancer, he didn't tell the public. He lived his life to the fullest until the end. He didn't want the chemo. I also feel that he didn't want a bunch of fake, half-assed people showing up and offering their apologies for whatever they'd done and getting shit off their chest and trying to create fake connections in the end. I kind of dig that, and at his age, I'd like to go out much the same way. I want my true friends and loved ones to be that to me til my casket drops. And I want the fake people that hate me to keep that energy til the end. If its good enough for George Jefferson, its certainly good enough for me.