As I am cleaning up the dinner dishes, my children run off to play. I hear my son say to my daughter, "There is no one invincible in Star Wars, not even Yoda." I am washing half consumed penne pasta noodles down the drain, turn on the garbage disposal and contemplate this insight from my little Jedi.
There is no one invisible in Star Wars.
"Cancer just down-right sucks. But, occasionally facing the “dark side,” as I like to call it – yes, I am prone to Star Wars analogies myself – has its value. When you can identify and name that which is the least desired event, it provides the mental weaponry to focus against it and work for health and enjoyment of everyday. After all – none of us truly know what is about to happen," states Dr. Ginger* in her pep talk after a major reality check that my life will continue to play out on the battle field of cancer.
Everyone has a Star Wars. Some wars are visible. Some are silent. Some are galactic. Others are civil. With all wars, we have to envision the big picture of reality. We identify and name the worse outcome. And with this knowledge, we are not blind. We can take that wisdom and spit at our foe right in the face. There is a fine line between being overcome in our wars and believing in the ultimate victory. With stage IV cancer, the line is very fine indeed.
I have had several conversations lately about war. One friend battles to get his bipolar brain to think straight so he can feel normal, be normal, and be a father. Another continues to fight silently to gain acceptance with her parents and family as she faces one of the biggest decisions in her life. And, yet another fights cancer and is told the future isn't long. With each circumstance, there is another, someone else offering a road block, a wall. Someone actually asked if I would make a bet on when one of these friends would fail in their quest to conquer life as they know it. A bet. Absolutely not. Why would I loose faith before the person even steps foot on the battle field?
Faith. As those around us fight their battles, we only have one thing to offer, faith. By believing in the victorious outcome of the quest either in silent prayer or vocalized in support, the war can be waged. Faith, is ours to give. And, it is free. Do you remember Mr. Black Cloud in the infusion room at the cancer center? He was loosing faith, and rightfully so as he body began to weaken and tumors began to blossom. Though I had to guard my own mental state and avoid this man during chemo therapy, when I was strong, when I knew I could handle his burden, I offered him faith. And, you know what? He reflected my gift and rejoined his church to find a community again. He stopped pushing away his grown son and wife and they now all dine together as a family again once a week. Yes, his condition improved. He is hanging in there. Yes, his body may eventually poop out, but for now, he found peace in his war.
Everyone has a Star Wars. Some big and some small. Knowledge of our enemy provides us with the necessary weaponry to give it our all. Once we loose faith in our victory, we begin to loose the war. Yet, especially with the big wars like physical or mental illness, we need some soldiers on our side. We need you to have faith in us. We need you to share your faith in the victory. Yes, there is no one invincible in Star Wars. But, it is FAITH, young Jedi, that pulls us through to defend ourselves from the Dark Side. Don't loose faith in your brethren. Rather, lift him up with faith.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Real Housewife of Boulder County
Okay, so we have bounced around the idea of a new TV show called the Real Housewives of Boulder County. My co-star Kristina, is a crack up with her four bitty guys and gals. So let me tell you something funny. Hum, I can't think of anything. But, what is a real housewife doing? Well, she took ten pairs of pants and skirts in for her skinny little miss. Dear Gymboree, would you please put drawstring waists in your knit pants to make my life a bit easier? Now, time to place a zipper and then run out to preschool pick up. Maybe this afternoon Silly Son and I will get out in the yard to pick tomatoes and plant irises.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Life in Stitches
What does it mean when one says: you put me in stitches? This is a reference used when you laugh so hard you almost pee your pants. So does it mean you laughed so hard that you fell off your chair and broke into pieces like Humpty Dumpty? And, are you able to laugh at life, putting yourself into stitches? Once you have laughed at your life so hard and put yourself in stitches, can you use stitches to help all the king's horses and all the king's men put you back together again?
The profound burden of my life smacked me in the face so hard that I fell off my wall today. I was running this morning and Madonna's American Dream played (great running song.) Does one still get to live the American Dream after a cancer diagnoses? What does that look like? Sure, I still want to look hot in my skinny jeans and be able to afford a chia latte at a local boutique coffee house on Main Street. Yep, I love my white painted fence around my back yard and the two kids and a half sandwich which is running around it. I am a suburban snob with a teaching degree I am not currently using (well, not in a school anyway.) And, I am in a book club. I have the American Dream.
That dream doesn't include dying, does it? I had to think about dying today. Yep. I met with Dr. Borges, young women's breast oncologist at University Hospital. She knows her stuff. She knows the stats. And, as she hugged me for full minute and called me "hon," I felt her umbrella of burden. We chatted about recurrence and why we chose the course of action we took last year. It began to rain. The reality is that I am not going to be an old lady sitting on my front porch in a rocking chair with 12 cats. The reality is that I am going to get sick again. We are waiting, we are watching, and we will try to move into our defenses as quickly as possible. My job is to take care of this body the best I possibly can and push through difficulties with Lymphadema and surgery. I know this. I fight thinking about it. But, it is my umbrella I carry no matter what the weather.
I am living the American Dream as I fold up my pants that are now too big (Yeah, I am loosing some chemo-weight and have "big pants" again. And, it is my American Dream that I was able to afford some new jeans when I gained chemo-weight.) I fold them and decide I will put them away on a top shelf in the closet instead of donating them. I might need them. I look really hot in my skinny jeans, drive a Prius, live in a four bedroom home, run three miles two times a week, and go to Birkum Yoga three days a week. I am the American Dream. I just have cancer. And, I can't seem to dream that away. Isn't it ironic? So much so I laugh so hard I put myself into stitches.
The profound burden of my life smacked me in the face so hard that I fell off my wall today. I was running this morning and Madonna's American Dream played (great running song.) Does one still get to live the American Dream after a cancer diagnoses? What does that look like? Sure, I still want to look hot in my skinny jeans and be able to afford a chia latte at a local boutique coffee house on Main Street. Yep, I love my white painted fence around my back yard and the two kids and a half sandwich which is running around it. I am a suburban snob with a teaching degree I am not currently using (well, not in a school anyway.) And, I am in a book club. I have the American Dream.
That dream doesn't include dying, does it? I had to think about dying today. Yep. I met with Dr. Borges, young women's breast oncologist at University Hospital. She knows her stuff. She knows the stats. And, as she hugged me for full minute and called me "hon," I felt her umbrella of burden. We chatted about recurrence and why we chose the course of action we took last year. It began to rain. The reality is that I am not going to be an old lady sitting on my front porch in a rocking chair with 12 cats. The reality is that I am going to get sick again. We are waiting, we are watching, and we will try to move into our defenses as quickly as possible. My job is to take care of this body the best I possibly can and push through difficulties with Lymphadema and surgery. I know this. I fight thinking about it. But, it is my umbrella I carry no matter what the weather.
I am living the American Dream as I fold up my pants that are now too big (Yeah, I am loosing some chemo-weight and have "big pants" again. And, it is my American Dream that I was able to afford some new jeans when I gained chemo-weight.) I fold them and decide I will put them away on a top shelf in the closet instead of donating them. I might need them. I look really hot in my skinny jeans, drive a Prius, live in a four bedroom home, run three miles two times a week, and go to Birkum Yoga three days a week. I am the American Dream. I just have cancer. And, I can't seem to dream that away. Isn't it ironic? So much so I laugh so hard I put myself into stitches.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Hand Print in the Rain
There is slight imprint in the cement outside my yoga studio. When it is filled with rain water, in the slight light from the street lamp, it glistens. It looks like a giant hand print. I wonder if anyone else sees this hand print. Do they even look down, look up, look around, or find the rain water marvelous and fresh?
Tonight, I thought about my friend Kim. Miss Yogi told a story as we set up for a full lotus, I made a half lotus. She was especially giggly and reflective this evening. Now six months pregnant, it makes me smile when we are holding our leg and "rocking the baby." I have looked up and there she is smiling at her leg presumably musing on her future. She blushes when she sees I caught her. Back to her story. She was giggling all night about how she wouldn't bend this way nor that way when she was in school with Yogi Birkum 7 years ago. One class he was really hard on her roommate. The roommate didn't want to commit to a pose because her back hurt. So Birkum being who he is, told her to drop and give him ten cobras. After class, Miss Yogi asked her what it was like to do all those back bends knowing her back hurt. The roommate replied that at some point, her back just stopped hurting.
That was the lesson. In our American world, we stop when it gets to hard. If you are in pain, you do go into the pain. Well, yes, this is sometimes good. But many times, it may be best to push through and find the other side. So this brings me to Kim. Kim and her husband submitted Long's Peak on Sunday. What I found inspiring about this is that she just climbed Long's Peak. She trusted her body and went. Monday, at a gathering at her home, she hobbled around in pain (if you every climbed a fourteener or hiked a large distance for 12 hours, you know the hobble.) I reflected back to my years I worked up at the YMCA in Estes Park and all the hiking and pushing my body hard. I suggested that when it hurt the worse is when she needed to stand up and start into some slow ski lunges side to side. Sway, sway, and move into dips.
Just as Birkum suggested, move through the pain and eventually, your mind forgets, it lets go and moves on to actually healing those sore muscles. Naturally, my mind wondered to my babies. When they were the most fussy at night, I swayed them for hours in a skiers lunge. When I put them in the swings at the park, side by side, I timed it so I would push one, sway, push the other, sway, push the first.... I even remember a father asking me to show him what I was doing as he thought it looked so relaxing like Tia Chi. It was.
As I am moving through to the next side for the lotus, again a half lotus is enough for me, I start thinking about cancer. This is how my weekend went. I had my PET CT scan, full body looking for cancer cells, on Wednesday. Friday, early as I am packing lunches for the kids to take to school, my doctor's MA called and first said there was something on the scan indicating that we need another scan, could I make it today. Sure, when she called back, I know because I have it in my notes, she read the report and said something along the lines of "it doesn't look like a metastasis and it could be a...." I stopped listening at, "You need another scan." So all weekend, I was thinking maybe it was a cancer spot after all they thought the first one in my swollen left breast was a cyst or mastitis for quite a few weeks. Or maybe this is a new cancer. I was thinking, "God, haven't I taken care of this body the best I could?" (By the way, the PET scan WAS clean. There is an issue with my appendix, but it is not cancer.)
One of my friends posted that he just realized, after my announcement that I was six months cancer-free on Tuesday, that my cancer could come back. Here I am with this reality in my head every day. And, I just realized that this reality is just that, my reality. True, my family have their ways of dealing with this reality. For me, I think it every time I look at my kids. I sing happy fifth birthday to my son today and in the back of my mind it is there. Will I sing happy sixth birthday?
That is the lesson. How did I get here today, six months cancer free? Well, a lot of drugs, of course. No, seriously, it is one deep breath, pause, exhale, OM.... It hurts like hell. But, if I breath enough and do what hurts even when I don't want to...I can get beyond the pain and smile as my son's dark chocolate eyes look up at me and says, "You are the best mom ever because you don't close the garage door until I am up the steps and hold open the door so I can come inside without it being dark." Simple, really. Yes, everyday, I think about dying. I had true, absolute fear before my scan last week. And, I had true exhilaration Tuesday hearing the scan was all clear. I will travel this cycle every six months. In time it will get easier. And you know what, I wasn't horribly angry to sit in my chair and receive Herceptin through my port just an inch above my plastic, gel filled wanna-boob. For the first time, I was thankful.
Drop and give me ten cobras. Breath through. Breath through. Breath through. Release. At some point, it just stops hurting and it starts healing.
On another note, I saw my grandmother's death during my meditation. It was beautiful. She turned into this radiant white smoke. Papa grabbed her hands and she was lifted. I don't know if she is still with us this evening or if this will be a year from now. But, I know she will have a lovely experience when she is decides it is time.
Tonight, I thought about my friend Kim. Miss Yogi told a story as we set up for a full lotus, I made a half lotus. She was especially giggly and reflective this evening. Now six months pregnant, it makes me smile when we are holding our leg and "rocking the baby." I have looked up and there she is smiling at her leg presumably musing on her future. She blushes when she sees I caught her. Back to her story. She was giggling all night about how she wouldn't bend this way nor that way when she was in school with Yogi Birkum 7 years ago. One class he was really hard on her roommate. The roommate didn't want to commit to a pose because her back hurt. So Birkum being who he is, told her to drop and give him ten cobras. After class, Miss Yogi asked her what it was like to do all those back bends knowing her back hurt. The roommate replied that at some point, her back just stopped hurting.
That was the lesson. In our American world, we stop when it gets to hard. If you are in pain, you do go into the pain. Well, yes, this is sometimes good. But many times, it may be best to push through and find the other side. So this brings me to Kim. Kim and her husband submitted Long's Peak on Sunday. What I found inspiring about this is that she just climbed Long's Peak. She trusted her body and went. Monday, at a gathering at her home, she hobbled around in pain (if you every climbed a fourteener or hiked a large distance for 12 hours, you know the hobble.) I reflected back to my years I worked up at the YMCA in Estes Park and all the hiking and pushing my body hard. I suggested that when it hurt the worse is when she needed to stand up and start into some slow ski lunges side to side. Sway, sway, and move into dips.
Just as Birkum suggested, move through the pain and eventually, your mind forgets, it lets go and moves on to actually healing those sore muscles. Naturally, my mind wondered to my babies. When they were the most fussy at night, I swayed them for hours in a skiers lunge. When I put them in the swings at the park, side by side, I timed it so I would push one, sway, push the other, sway, push the first.... I even remember a father asking me to show him what I was doing as he thought it looked so relaxing like Tia Chi. It was.
As I am moving through to the next side for the lotus, again a half lotus is enough for me, I start thinking about cancer. This is how my weekend went. I had my PET CT scan, full body looking for cancer cells, on Wednesday. Friday, early as I am packing lunches for the kids to take to school, my doctor's MA called and first said there was something on the scan indicating that we need another scan, could I make it today. Sure, when she called back, I know because I have it in my notes, she read the report and said something along the lines of "it doesn't look like a metastasis and it could be a...." I stopped listening at, "You need another scan." So all weekend, I was thinking maybe it was a cancer spot after all they thought the first one in my swollen left breast was a cyst or mastitis for quite a few weeks. Or maybe this is a new cancer. I was thinking, "God, haven't I taken care of this body the best I could?" (By the way, the PET scan WAS clean. There is an issue with my appendix, but it is not cancer.)
One of my friends posted that he just realized, after my announcement that I was six months cancer-free on Tuesday, that my cancer could come back. Here I am with this reality in my head every day. And, I just realized that this reality is just that, my reality. True, my family have their ways of dealing with this reality. For me, I think it every time I look at my kids. I sing happy fifth birthday to my son today and in the back of my mind it is there. Will I sing happy sixth birthday?
That is the lesson. How did I get here today, six months cancer free? Well, a lot of drugs, of course. No, seriously, it is one deep breath, pause, exhale, OM.... It hurts like hell. But, if I breath enough and do what hurts even when I don't want to...I can get beyond the pain and smile as my son's dark chocolate eyes look up at me and says, "You are the best mom ever because you don't close the garage door until I am up the steps and hold open the door so I can come inside without it being dark." Simple, really. Yes, everyday, I think about dying. I had true, absolute fear before my scan last week. And, I had true exhilaration Tuesday hearing the scan was all clear. I will travel this cycle every six months. In time it will get easier. And you know what, I wasn't horribly angry to sit in my chair and receive Herceptin through my port just an inch above my plastic, gel filled wanna-boob. For the first time, I was thankful.
Drop and give me ten cobras. Breath through. Breath through. Breath through. Release. At some point, it just stops hurting and it starts healing.
On another note, I saw my grandmother's death during my meditation. It was beautiful. She turned into this radiant white smoke. Papa grabbed her hands and she was lifted. I don't know if she is still with us this evening or if this will be a year from now. But, I know she will have a lovely experience when she is decides it is time.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Studio
Finally, I got my studio finished. The space is pretty tight but efficient. The south light is nice but does make the room bit warm. Finally, I got my antenna set up so I can enjoy TV viewing while I work on my computer in the evenings. Currently, I am trying to get a bunch of sewing projects completed. I am looking for inspiration for a painting too. Check off one item off the to do list.
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| south wall: sewing table, ironing, and cutting matt |
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| view from door |
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| closet |
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| design wall and easle corner |
Dear Fridge Magnet
To the Midnight Housewife - Do people clean their refrigerators on a regular basis? If so what is the definition of a regular basis? Or do people just keep their refrigerators clean? JK
Dear JK- As a complete authority on refrigerator cleanliness, I will say no, no, and maybe. From my extensive field research, I found that "people" don't clean their fridges on a regular basis. Furthermore, their fridges are general packed and in full disarray. (Yes, I looked, dear friend. You know who you are.) However, it is my belief that the general public does periodically clean their fridge space based on one of these three catalyses: 1. they came home from the grocery store and couldn't jam one more item into the space, 2. something came flying out when they opened the door and smashed their pinkie toe, and 3. it smells like something died in there.
That said, there is a small enclave of cleaning nerds who do cleaning their fridges on a regular basis. In fact, I just cleaned out mine last week before I went grocery shopping. My catalyse for this adventure being simply a lettuce leaf stuck below the clear plastic veggie drawer. So, of course, if I am going to pull out one drawer, I should pull out the next, wipe off the shelves, toss a few expired items which in turn created a need for said grocery trip.
My cleaning routine is based upon the one my mother used growing up. It seems we cleaned the fridge about every three to six months. Mainly, we wiped out goop and the veggie drawers were washed. I also shop like my mother and it is common to find my fridge nearly empty. I buy only what is needed and organize most my items in the door shelves. If I can't fit one more bottle of salad dressing on the condiment shelf, then I don't need to be opening that one more bottle of dressing until another already opened one is used and tossed out. I also tend to not have many left overs as I cook only what is consumed. I know this is not the method of most families and adds to more time in the kitchen. However, it keeps my family from wasting food as we don't really like to eat left over anything. We are just weird that way.
I would suggest a regular cleaning of your refrigerator. Start with an over haul. Take everything out, wash down and clean the drawers. I would highly recommend listening to Beach Boys during this task. Also, ask you children to help clean the door shelves. And, don't forget to surprise them with a quick spray from the sink hose while you are rinsing the drawers. Next, sort your items on the counter by use. Move your shelves and drawers to function for the type of item you use most. For example, I have had our fridge with taller juice bottles on the top shelves. Know that we are not using cow's milk and only have one bottle of juice and one carton of rice milk, we use the door for these items. Put green, healthy items towards the top where you see them first. And, put your flours and hardly consumed items on the bottom. Right now, I have a thin shelf at the top just the height for a loaf of bread and those boxes of lettuce leaves or berries. It works great. Make one shelf towards the top for Tupperware items like left overs so you aren't digging around. And most importantly, as you put things back in the fridge, read the labels. Toss out expired, leaking, or items with corn syrup and hydrogenated oils.
Now you fridge is all organized so it is both easily accessible and healthy, you can now periodically clean out your fridge in just a couple of minutes. Your fridge runs best when it is medium full. That means you have items on all your organized, designated shelves, but that you aren't stuffing stuff in the very back in every little corner. In the long run you save money on efficiency and reduce the amount of food you toss because you forgot it was in there. Besides, let's save our poor pinkie toes from that jelly that is primed to fall out as we speak...you know of whom I speak. The moral of the story is that taking quality time to do a stellar cleaning over haul sets the foundation for periodic easy cleaning in minutes. Enjoy your clean fridge and fresh food, JK.
PS Listening to the Beach Boys really is essential to getting the job done well...I think.
Dear JK- As a complete authority on refrigerator cleanliness, I will say no, no, and maybe. From my extensive field research, I found that "people" don't clean their fridges on a regular basis. Furthermore, their fridges are general packed and in full disarray. (Yes, I looked, dear friend. You know who you are.) However, it is my belief that the general public does periodically clean their fridge space based on one of these three catalyses: 1. they came home from the grocery store and couldn't jam one more item into the space, 2. something came flying out when they opened the door and smashed their pinkie toe, and 3. it smells like something died in there.
That said, there is a small enclave of cleaning nerds who do cleaning their fridges on a regular basis. In fact, I just cleaned out mine last week before I went grocery shopping. My catalyse for this adventure being simply a lettuce leaf stuck below the clear plastic veggie drawer. So, of course, if I am going to pull out one drawer, I should pull out the next, wipe off the shelves, toss a few expired items which in turn created a need for said grocery trip.
My cleaning routine is based upon the one my mother used growing up. It seems we cleaned the fridge about every three to six months. Mainly, we wiped out goop and the veggie drawers were washed. I also shop like my mother and it is common to find my fridge nearly empty. I buy only what is needed and organize most my items in the door shelves. If I can't fit one more bottle of salad dressing on the condiment shelf, then I don't need to be opening that one more bottle of dressing until another already opened one is used and tossed out. I also tend to not have many left overs as I cook only what is consumed. I know this is not the method of most families and adds to more time in the kitchen. However, it keeps my family from wasting food as we don't really like to eat left over anything. We are just weird that way.
I would suggest a regular cleaning of your refrigerator. Start with an over haul. Take everything out, wash down and clean the drawers. I would highly recommend listening to Beach Boys during this task. Also, ask you children to help clean the door shelves. And, don't forget to surprise them with a quick spray from the sink hose while you are rinsing the drawers. Next, sort your items on the counter by use. Move your shelves and drawers to function for the type of item you use most. For example, I have had our fridge with taller juice bottles on the top shelves. Know that we are not using cow's milk and only have one bottle of juice and one carton of rice milk, we use the door for these items. Put green, healthy items towards the top where you see them first. And, put your flours and hardly consumed items on the bottom. Right now, I have a thin shelf at the top just the height for a loaf of bread and those boxes of lettuce leaves or berries. It works great. Make one shelf towards the top for Tupperware items like left overs so you aren't digging around. And most importantly, as you put things back in the fridge, read the labels. Toss out expired, leaking, or items with corn syrup and hydrogenated oils.
Now you fridge is all organized so it is both easily accessible and healthy, you can now periodically clean out your fridge in just a couple of minutes. Your fridge runs best when it is medium full. That means you have items on all your organized, designated shelves, but that you aren't stuffing stuff in the very back in every little corner. In the long run you save money on efficiency and reduce the amount of food you toss because you forgot it was in there. Besides, let's save our poor pinkie toes from that jelly that is primed to fall out as we speak...you know of whom I speak. The moral of the story is that taking quality time to do a stellar cleaning over haul sets the foundation for periodic easy cleaning in minutes. Enjoy your clean fridge and fresh food, JK.
PS Listening to the Beach Boys really is essential to getting the job done well...I think.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Jackpot GI
Phew, we hit the jackpot with this new GI doc. She is awesome. She is so awesome that I started to cry because I felt heard. Heard. Listened to. Understood. Not crazy. She said all the things I have been saying and has simply bounced back to me like a racket ball for the past three years. I love my son so much and may finally find some answers. For today, he is on a strict lactose free diet. I don't think this is the "cure" as he has been mostly dairy free for three years. True, when he has a cookie here and there, he may have issues, but this is all of the equation just yet. Since we have awesome health insurance (thanks to me for having an awesome disease needing awesome insurance for the whole family and Scott figuring it out), we should be getting full coverage on a huge panel of tests on his blood. My little guy was so brave during his blood draw. He held me like a little monkey and breathed deep yoga breaths. See, my rieki dream of him being a yogi and life couch just may be true. Of course, he will have a rockin' shack on the coast of New Zealand so he can surf, and I will never get to see my baby...but alas, happy. Back to the GI issue. We will return in two months after Dr. N. has been able to look at his colonoscopy and lapriscopy slides from 2007, and the test results. At that time we may need to rescope, may go to this pediatric food allergist she is totally jazzed about, or may luck out and find the lactose is the only issue. So hopefully he will also begin to grow as he is starting to notice that even the three year olds are getting taller then him.Oh, I am instructed to start night-training him again. Please pray that the food/GI issue is the cause, and it will work itself out without too many midnight sheet washings. Just feels great to validated as a parent. She said, "Yes, he is well and can live just fine. But, he can have such a better life with some answers." YES! This is what I have been saying all along.
Waking Up
I had not intended to have another cancer blog, but I suppose that it is still such a part of my life that it is what I need to talk about from time to time. Several of you are trying to get an understanding of what I am going through. I truly do appreciate it. It would be difficult for me, simply because of who I am, to isolate myself.
So here is what I feel in the morning when I wake up. This feeling is progressively less each morning during the cycle but worse on the second morning after. Also, it may vary a little probably due to work outs, heat, and other environmental elements and how hard I push my body to be normal. My hands and feet tingle similar to when you try to stand up from sitting on your knees on the floor. The feeling is a little more mild and does actually persist during the day, but I can ignore it. This is neurapathy. It can be worse in my left arm as it is still numb in the bottom where the lymph nodes were removed. Sometimes my chest just aches. And, my muscles between my shoulders and chest cramp up. Then I have a lump in my throat nausea. It is not as severe as it was during chemotherapy and it goes away mostly after breakfast. I have a low headache. My shins ache similar to my daughter's this morning as she is growing and growing. Jack asked yesterday and then commented when I told him I am not growing anymore. He said, "Yes, you are. You are growing in your love for me." There are other various aches and sharp pains in my chest and left arm. This is it. this is my life.
I will get used to it and tolerate. But, I do wake up most mornings thinking, I can't do this the rest of my life. Never mind the thoughts that run through my head as I watch my kids play like, I may die next year and will never get to see this again. Or, I will see one of the teenagers in our neighborhood doing something and think that I won't get to see my kids do that same thing.
It is sad, I know. But, it is my reality. It is the reality of anyone going through an illness. It makes us angry and resentful. For me, hopefully, these feelings will only last a couple of days around my infusions. Then, I can move on and pretend everything is normal even though my hands tingle and my shins feel like they may break if I jump too hard.
Life does go on. Today, I will take Jack to the Gatrointerologist at Children's Hospital. I hope we can figure out his issues this year. He is a lovely boy who is sharp as a whip. I just know he can thrive and grow if we can figure out what is bothering him. Yes, he can live just fine just the way he is. But, he can have so much more. Besides, Jack has a pile of size four pants that I hope he can wear this fall as he approaches his fifth birthday. I would sure hate to have to go buy more size threes. And, that is my job as a mom to provide the best life for my kids. I am thankful I am able to take him today as I read the most resent post of my friend still struggling after two years of surgeries and treatments for her breast cancer. Everyday, as someone else drives her to her doctor appointments, I am sure she wishes she was in the driver's seat driving her kiddos to school. Hang in there, E.
So I am going to be glad now in the luck I have to get to ride bikes with my kids to school today even as they are currently fighting over a coloring book.
So here is what I feel in the morning when I wake up. This feeling is progressively less each morning during the cycle but worse on the second morning after. Also, it may vary a little probably due to work outs, heat, and other environmental elements and how hard I push my body to be normal. My hands and feet tingle similar to when you try to stand up from sitting on your knees on the floor. The feeling is a little more mild and does actually persist during the day, but I can ignore it. This is neurapathy. It can be worse in my left arm as it is still numb in the bottom where the lymph nodes were removed. Sometimes my chest just aches. And, my muscles between my shoulders and chest cramp up. Then I have a lump in my throat nausea. It is not as severe as it was during chemotherapy and it goes away mostly after breakfast. I have a low headache. My shins ache similar to my daughter's this morning as she is growing and growing. Jack asked yesterday and then commented when I told him I am not growing anymore. He said, "Yes, you are. You are growing in your love for me." There are other various aches and sharp pains in my chest and left arm. This is it. this is my life.
I will get used to it and tolerate. But, I do wake up most mornings thinking, I can't do this the rest of my life. Never mind the thoughts that run through my head as I watch my kids play like, I may die next year and will never get to see this again. Or, I will see one of the teenagers in our neighborhood doing something and think that I won't get to see my kids do that same thing.
It is sad, I know. But, it is my reality. It is the reality of anyone going through an illness. It makes us angry and resentful. For me, hopefully, these feelings will only last a couple of days around my infusions. Then, I can move on and pretend everything is normal even though my hands tingle and my shins feel like they may break if I jump too hard.
Life does go on. Today, I will take Jack to the Gatrointerologist at Children's Hospital. I hope we can figure out his issues this year. He is a lovely boy who is sharp as a whip. I just know he can thrive and grow if we can figure out what is bothering him. Yes, he can live just fine just the way he is. But, he can have so much more. Besides, Jack has a pile of size four pants that I hope he can wear this fall as he approaches his fifth birthday. I would sure hate to have to go buy more size threes. And, that is my job as a mom to provide the best life for my kids. I am thankful I am able to take him today as I read the most resent post of my friend still struggling after two years of surgeries and treatments for her breast cancer. Everyday, as someone else drives her to her doctor appointments, I am sure she wishes she was in the driver's seat driving her kiddos to school. Hang in there, E.
So I am going to be glad now in the luck I have to get to ride bikes with my kids to school today even as they are currently fighting over a coloring book.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Sheryl on the Rocks
If you haven't tried it on the rocks, you really ought put it on your bucket list. A concert at Red Rocks amphitheater is amazing. Sheryl Crow bellowed in her silver glitter jacket as the stars tinkled above. A thunderstorm lurked over south Denver illuminating a bat flying overhead. The city sprawled out in a grid of lights under the high prairie clouds that hearken back to a time of tepees and horses. As we stood on the 59th row, the music filled our souls. There is room to dance to the grooves in the stadium slab seating making one glad to not be suffering from vertigo. Yet, it is freeing to not have a crowded seat back looming in front of your jamming knees. New grooves and ol' favorites, we sang along. Sheryl is a true musician of voice, guitar, piano, and even harmonica. This evening was a wonderful experience to share with my Moonlight Mama Maureen. The encore brought tears to my eyes...I will believe. And then we laughed as we energetically climbed into the car zipped down the mountain road. Two Midnight Mamas who love to groove. Thanks Mo.
PS Our legs are already a bit sore. We parked out on the road for an easy exit. We hiked up the incline and then hundreds of steps to row 33. Wait, where are the restrooms? Yep, at the bottom by the stage. So down we go and then back up three steps to every row. And then down again. Oh, and yes, implants get very hard when they are cold. Maureen said, "Maybe we should see if there is an elevator." I replied, "Yes, I could claim my heavy breasts as a handicap."
PS Our legs are already a bit sore. We parked out on the road for an easy exit. We hiked up the incline and then hundreds of steps to row 33. Wait, where are the restrooms? Yep, at the bottom by the stage. So down we go and then back up three steps to every row. And then down again. Oh, and yes, implants get very hard when they are cold. Maureen said, "Maybe we should see if there is an elevator." I replied, "Yes, I could claim my heavy breasts as a handicap."
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