"How are you?"

A good friend asked me tonight on the phone. He is a bit older than me, lost his wife two years ago, and is the one with the instant grandchild. Of my Springfield social friends, I would say he is most in line with my morals, and the one I can talk to about faith, actions, etc. With my travels and his, I have not really seen him in a few weeks.

"How are you?" I was in a good mood, pulling into the drive thru at Steak'nShake, looking to see what the options were for Wednesday evening. (Actually, I had just given up trying to track down the pediatricians, psychologist and/or pyschiatrist who are in my world of family and friends to discuss the potty and babysitter issues below, and was thus seeking refuge in cheese fries and milk shake.)

So how am I?

I am on autopilot. I have blogged about the flurry of activity that is my July into August. Add to that the out-of-state funeral of my cousin who died much too young, leaving a wife and 10 year old son. I fielded the call from my cousin, his sister, trying to reach my dad to tell him they were about to disconnect life support (but really looking for the support that is the rock who is my father). Then I sat with my uncle, who is like a grandfather, while he asked at the funeral home why God keeps an old guy like him around with his oxygen tank, and takes his son; say that a parent is not supposed to bury his child, no matter what the age; wonder what Kim and Will will do without Jim. He buried his son on the 39th anniversary of his mother's death (my parents anniversary).

I spent that evening on Saturday with my Grandmother, who is now on an entirely new - and greatly reduced - regiment of meds. She seems to be thriving for the first time in several years. She even recalled to my mother this morning our outing to Bob Evans, what we all ate, and what I picked up for her at the store.

Of our two staff people who said they were leaving, one is now staying. My right hand guy is leaving because of a new job for his wife, but I think we found a great new young woman to take his place.

Jackson had his surgical consult today. The bright(?) side: his surgery is NOT optional. He needs it. John and I don't have to wrestle with the decision of whether to have a "convenience" surgery and to put our child under general anesthesia. He needs surgery, or before long, he will no longer be able to pee. Who cares about aim - the child will not be able to PEE. It is considered "minor" day surgery, and he should be good as new in a few days. It is scheduled for Sept. 2 - what was supposed to be his first day of school. Ugh.

We continue to wrestle with his anxiety surrounding his potty issues. They are manifesting more and more in anxiety about his babysitter's. Is he trying to play me? Is he truly unhappy? Is he pushing my buttons? Or will it get better after his surgery? He told me yesterday that he did not like HER. When I asked if he wanted to go to a different house, with no Austin and no Dominick, he said yes. But he told Aunt Lori he had a great day when she picked him up last night. We have another option. It is much more convenient, the kids who go there LOVE it without exception. It is much more expensive. Do I take part of the money I was putting aside for his pre-paid college and just move him? Do I even worry about that and move him anyway?

I had a doctor appointment today too. I have been having severe lower pelvic pain for 4 months now during my "cycle." I feared ovarian, cervical or uterine cancer. I did not sleep Saturday night after my cousins funeral, tossing and turning with my sleeping boy next to me, wondering about his future if something did happen to me. I knew something was wrong. I also knew it was not good. I found myself "hoping" for something like fibrosis that I knew could be fixed with a hysterectomy. When speculating it could be bad cancer, I found myself coming to grips with having my fertility ended.

It wasn't fibroids, or cancer. Apparently they think I have a pretty darn good dose of endometriosis. I have not begun reading about it yet. Doc put me on the pill, refused to speculate on what will happen if this does not help, and said that he was "trying" to preserve my fertility for another three years. Try? What happens after three years? It was 20 minutes before Jackson's appointment, and I did not have cancer, so who knows?

We are now 8 days before convention move in day. The program book is not done, but my graphic designer won his softball game tonight. Despite the numbers being down, the budget appears to be holding. I drank a beer, made my guest tickets, and called it a night in the office.

We are now 12 days before we begin dissembling computers and 12 days and 10 hours before the movers start doing their thing. The schedule is tight, but the architect and contractor have the move in order, just in case the carpet installation is only 12 hours behind the furniture. I think all is scheduled except the cable cuz he has to send a guy out to see if cable can be run to the building, even though the 4 apartments upstairs have cable, that runs to them THRU MY NEW BASEMENT. Oh, well. The computer company said my laser printer is on a DNR order, but will keep it alive until we move and settle in.

I am calm. or I am numb. or I am on autopilot. or God is answering my "please help mommy stay calm" nightly prayers. or I am going to crash. or I am holding on until vacation on August 1.

I don't have cancer. I am going to live. The convention is going to come and go. The office will get moved. Jackson is a resilient kid and will be okay. On August 2, I will blow up my raft, grab a beer and float, even if it is in the rain. And then I will sleep. I hope.

How am I?

"I'm okay."