Has been the pits. Absolutely the pits. Between Miss Frances being ill for months on end, the crappy weather, and the loss of Tybalt and Rupert, I really didn't think it could get much worse. It did though, oh boy did it ever.
Two weeks ago Ian came home from work late. I was angry with him because I had expected him at supper, and when I tried to call he wasn't answering his cell. When he finally walked in the door I was geared up for a fight, but the moment I looked at him, I knew something was Very Wrong. He had lost his job that day. I'm not going into specifics because we have taken this to the Saskatchewan Labour Relations Board, but I will say that things about his termination were extremely fishy, and the situation was not at all well handled by his employer. Because of what they did and how they treated it, Ian is unlikely to qualify for any sort of Employment Insurance or assistance getting training. We have been working to find him a job for the last two weeks, sending out his resume to different places every day, and after two weeks he has not received one phone call back. Not one. In short, we are fucked. Seriously, and utterly fucked. We aren't going to be able to pay the mortgage, bills or buy groceries very soon. I started a new job this past week working for an answering service. It's good, I am really enjoying working, but ten dollars an hour for 20 or so hours a week is not going to even begin to solve our problems. I mean, I know that it's better than nothing, but it's not going to pay or mortgage, let alone buy food and pay the bills.
So, things around here are definitely Not Great. It's hard to look on the bright side of things, to find the Grace in Small Things, when all I can do is worry about what on earth is going to happen to us, and wonder how we will make it through this. I keep thinking how this move to Saskatchewan, the move that was supposed to make everything easier, has failed utterly in that regard. We're at the point where Ian is considering going back to Ironworking. Going back to being out of town for months at a time. I had a hard time dealing with that when I was in Edmonton, with the city and a bus load of friends to keep me sane. I don't know if I can do it in Milestone, where my closest friend lives an hour away in Lumsden and I have virtually no other support system in place.
Anyways. 2009 has been the pits. The day after Ian lost his job in a most fishy and unacceptable manner, I found out that my mother is having some health issues. Some potentially Very Serious health issues. The type of issues that normally would make me cry a whole lot, and need to throw up some. There's nothing concrete yet, we are still waiting for some tests to be done. I am clinging to that thought, even though I know enough to understand that this is not likely to be something benign and happy. We are preparing for a diagnosis that begins with the letter "C", and I'm not sure I can deal with that. The thing is, my Mother has been a smoker since she was 14 years old. The thing is that where the lumps have been found, well, that means Bad Things. If those lumps are C___ it means that the C___ is everywhere. If that's what it is. I keep telling myself that. We don't actually know that it's C___ yet. Except I'm pretty sure I do know that's exactly what it is. Here's where I'm going to sound a little hysterical, a little like a crazy person, but this is my blog, and it's okay. See, when I was a kid, my Dad had C___. They tried to hide it from me, because that's what parents do, I guess. They didn't want to ruin my summer. They held off on my dad going to the hospital till I was away at camp. They wanted me to have fun. The thing is that I already knew that my Dad had cancer. I had a miserable time at camp, and I was incredibly angry with them for not telling me. Fast forward many many years. Five years ago, Ian's dad got sick. No one really knew what was going on, even the doctors. I knew. I knew the moment Ian's Mum first called to tell us that his Dad wasn't doing well. From that moment, I started telling Ian to prepare himself for the worst. I started telling Ian that we needed to save our money so he could go to Halifax. I knew 4 months before the doctors figured it out. And now. I know too. I just know. I really wish I didn't, but I do.
I've been trying to be optimistic, but it's hard. It's so incredibly hard. I'm not an optimist by nature, I never have been. I've always looked at the world through the opposite of rose coloured glasses. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I don't know how much longer I can keep being supportive of Ian. I don't know how much longer I can force myself to stay happy and calm in front of the girls. I don't know how much longer I can force the C-word out of my mind every time it creeps in unbidden. I don't know what we are going to do, and I don't know how we are going to do it, and I'm terrified.