Cancer Sucks

Troubleshooting Cancer

My Dad is Trouble and Someday I Just Want to Shoot Him

I talk…a lot. Ask anyone to describe me and the visceral responses are usually, “she talks too much” or “she is too opinionated.” My father once told me that “I had diarrhea of the mouth.” It isn’t pretty, and I can’t deny those descriptions. However, my real strength is my ability to not speak. It’s true; I can also be quiet for hours on end.

As a theatre director, I spend half of my life quietly sitting in darkened houses – observing, assessing, feeling, and troubleshooting.

These skills - that I continue to hone in the dark - came to light during my dad’s time in the hospital following his colon and rectal surgery and during all the subsequent visits and stays thereafter. I can sit in a room and say nothing…for a long time. This is important when the one you are sitting with is in pain or is scared – language is not normally welcomed but having someone sharing the silence with you is.

I have heard people describe knowing that they are have found “the one” because they are so comfortable with that other person that they can take road trips or watch TV and just sit…just be. The need to speak is not necessary. Ohmygosh…I think that I may be “the one” for my father.

I troubleshoot for a living. I have to make sure schedules work – actors, advisees, technicians, faculty committees. I have to balance this along with making sure my men gets to family functions, school and church events, appointments, and work. This also takes a certain amount of vision. I see that when the third dancer from the right does that twirl during the first chorus, she will run into the upstage staircase. Therefore, I need to move her or adjust the design. If an actor has to go be at work at Tuesday at 6 pm in order to pay his tuition so that he can then be in the play; well then, I cannot work the scene or act that he is in on Tuesday at 6 pm and need to revisit the schedule. If I know that I am meeting with an advisee who is failing a required general class (for the second time), there may be tears. So, I make sure my phone is turned off and the Kleenex are available. If my son’s car insurance is due, and I know he can’t make the payment this month, I just make the transfer. Troubleshooting protects those I care about from getting hurt.

Listening and troubleshooting are inseparable. When my father is still in the hospital 10 days longer than he expected, I plant myself next to him. When he shifts more than three times in one minute, I remember to grab his robe and tell him I ready for a walk and ask if he would like to join me. When his tasteless food arrives, I remember that I need to run to the gas station and that V8 and granola bars are there anyway, so I will just pick some up. When he tries to control visitors (family included) with dialogue infected with sarcasm and abrasive opinions that seem hurtful, I remember that he has absolutely no control of physical condition and that he hurts. So when I bite my tongue and nod, I am helping him ease the pain. If I see something coming I do not hesitate to divert it or grab it. It is just troubleshooting.

And by the way, after spending 5 to 10 hours a day is a darkened theater just listening, it is no wonder I talk a lot when I finally get the chance….just ask me.