When we were discussing the best plan of action to eradicate my brain of breast cells that were apparently trying to paralyze my left eye, my oncologist said to the neurologist,"We haVe to be careful not to make her to stupid to take care of her little kids." Maybe those weren't the exact words, but that is what I remember hearing. Two thoughts occurred to me. One, if I was, say, fifty and my kids had left for college, would it be okay to fry my brain? And, two, how stupid is this going to make me anyway?
So we did two pin-point radiations on exactly the vary spot of my tumors. Instead of multiple visits with fifteen minutes each, they shot my head with a laser, without telling me by the way, for a full fifty minutes just once. When they were explaining this last minute change the doctors said: one, I was very young (that is cool because I was feeling old and tired at that point) and could handle the stress of the length of time. Again, may I remind you I didn't know I would be there that long when I laid down on the table with a cage tightly fitted over my face. And my I-pod spontaneously went into a random shuffle replacing my soothing ballads with my running playlist. Two, my brain cells were like a balloon. If you blow it up a lot, even right to popping, then release the air, the balloon retains it's elasticity. However, if you blow it up over and over, eventually the material looses it's integrity.
Integrity; now that is an interesting word seeing as we are talking about my brain. This is the very topic I have been thinking about today. I had a sudden urge to send out a mass apology for forgetting stuff. Sorry. I can't remember names of people I have known for a long time. I can't remember appointments. I can't remember to put something out on the porch for a friend to pick up later even just seconds after I hang up the phone. I have to check everything multiple times and often flip a u-turn to get something I left at home...three times in a row. This is horribly embarrassing and frustrating. I can rationalize that it could be worse and that there are normal brains doing this same thing. But, you have to understand is, even though I was forgetful from time to time, this constant behavior is not me, the me of my past. I feel like a ditz.
In discussing my frustrations with my mom after my friend called looking for the thing I was supposed to have put on the porch for her to pick up, I realized that that my brain is trying to multitask all the time. Dr. Phil once said that multitasking is not actually multitasking. It is actually doing a little bit of one thing, moving to another thing, going back the the original thing, then starting a third thing, then back to the.... In the end, you are just doing a little bit of one thing at a time therefore you a not giving the task your full attention. Therefore, all those three tasks you thought you were completing all at once were really not getting done well in the end.
So here I am explaining this to my mom. I was telling her that I feel like my brain is constantly unorganized and multitasking so nothing gets done to full fruition, when she replied in her experienced etcher voice, "So you are saying your brain functions like someone who is ADD?" Precisely.
I don't know if I can credit this confusion and forgetfulness in my brain to the radiation. But, I do know I can credit the stuttering and the slight lose of coordination in my right hand at random to the procedure. And, then I think: "Stupid is as stupid...". Wait, I forgot how that quote from the movie Forest Gump went. Well, I wonder what my oncologist really meant when she protectively explained her reasoning for a lesser about of treatment to save the integrity of my brain.
PS Sorry, I simply forgot to finish my blogs about my wonderful trip to California with my two little adventurers. I finished writing in the photo album and had taken that text to publish in my blog. However, I forgot to save the thing and my computer froze causing me to restart it. So if I remember, I will try again. For now know that on the third and fourth day of our trip we went to Disneyland. Then we went sailing. We followed that with a trip down to San Diego to tour the zoo, swim, relax on the beach, eat good seafood, and sit in the airplanes at the Maritime Museum. It was quite and adventure and my careful planning paid off in some wonderful memories for a steal of $600 total trip expense. On my last day, I felt a bit tearful. I felt great joy at the same time I felt scared. As I ran my fingers through the sand, I tried to remember that moment, engrave it in my fried brain, because it could very well be my last time to sit on the beach. Yes, I often have these thoughts that this could be the last.... Maybe that is a handicap or maybe it is a gift. But, it is definitely a topic for another blog.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Just Plain Sealy - Day Two
There is something quite wonderful about waking to the sound of seagulls calling for their breakfast sandwiched between the two loves of your life. She has her leg jammed some place between my last rib and my lung and his nose is exactly one inch from mine as I open my eyes. "Today is going to be a good day," announces my son as he pops up from slumber land, lets his sleeping doll drop to his pillow, and opens the hatch above the bed so he can pop his head out like a gopher. The air is cool. I turn on the space heater that I turned off because I am a total nerd and nervous about space heaters in small locations. Time for breakfast of Trader Joe's Os and rice milk.
The first order of business is to go to the beach. It is cold and cloudy, June Gloom, as we emerge from the belly of the sail boat. The beach is absent of people at 8:43 am making the way clear to kick off our shoes and run at full throttle towards the subtle waves. The water is really cold. My surfer dude peels off his sweatshirt and belly flops in the cold water despite warnings. He runs back up on the beach and rolls in the sand to make sand angels. My gal is more careful in her approach feeling the sea foam in her fingers and pulling a seashell out of the damp area left by a receding wave.
The best privilege of staying at the marina is the key to the bath house just off the beach. The kids warm up with a shower, and we wonder down to the Shoreline Village. It is 10:30, and they are apparently starving. Well, I guess their internal clocks are not too off as it is 11:30, lunchtime, at home. We wonder the Long Beach shore up to a park with three giant curved bridges and an arena fully surrounded in an aquatic mural. We discover the movie theater and conference hall just as the restaurants begin to shake out their napkins and open their doors for business. Near the aquarium, the kids get really excited to see Bubba Gumps. Shrimp all shrimp. All the shrimp they ever dreamed of. We order the combo sampler and a side salad for mom. We pass the Forest Gump trivia and get free raspberry lemonades for the kiddos. Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get.
Life is good, our tummies are full, the sun is peeking out from behind the clouds, and grandpa will meet us in thirty minutes at the aquarium. What a great afternoon at the fabulous Aquarium of the Pacific. The seal tunnel was a highlight as school girls showed us that if you hold a bright object to the glass, the seals will investigate it with their noses. I seriously almost cried seeing my daughter's face as the seal placed his nose right on the other side of the glass in her palm. Of course that is not saying much as I felt the same awe of a beautiful moment when Surfer Son finally touched a shark in the petting tanks and lit up with satisfaction.
The day came to a close after a stroll back to the boat for dinner. Early to bed after reviewing the driving direction to the pinnacle of our trip. The day is almost here. And, as a good mother would do, I kept that a secret as I tucked the little ones in bed. And why, you ask, would I not tell them of the excitement that will unfold in the morning? Well, it is simple, sleep. We must sleep. Goodnight.
The first order of business is to go to the beach. It is cold and cloudy, June Gloom, as we emerge from the belly of the sail boat. The beach is absent of people at 8:43 am making the way clear to kick off our shoes and run at full throttle towards the subtle waves. The water is really cold. My surfer dude peels off his sweatshirt and belly flops in the cold water despite warnings. He runs back up on the beach and rolls in the sand to make sand angels. My gal is more careful in her approach feeling the sea foam in her fingers and pulling a seashell out of the damp area left by a receding wave.
The best privilege of staying at the marina is the key to the bath house just off the beach. The kids warm up with a shower, and we wonder down to the Shoreline Village. It is 10:30, and they are apparently starving. Well, I guess their internal clocks are not too off as it is 11:30, lunchtime, at home. We wonder the Long Beach shore up to a park with three giant curved bridges and an arena fully surrounded in an aquatic mural. We discover the movie theater and conference hall just as the restaurants begin to shake out their napkins and open their doors for business. Near the aquarium, the kids get really excited to see Bubba Gumps. Shrimp all shrimp. All the shrimp they ever dreamed of. We order the combo sampler and a side salad for mom. We pass the Forest Gump trivia and get free raspberry lemonades for the kiddos. Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get.
Life is good, our tummies are full, the sun is peeking out from behind the clouds, and grandpa will meet us in thirty minutes at the aquarium. What a great afternoon at the fabulous Aquarium of the Pacific. The seal tunnel was a highlight as school girls showed us that if you hold a bright object to the glass, the seals will investigate it with their noses. I seriously almost cried seeing my daughter's face as the seal placed his nose right on the other side of the glass in her palm. Of course that is not saying much as I felt the same awe of a beautiful moment when Surfer Son finally touched a shark in the petting tanks and lit up with satisfaction.
The day came to a close after a stroll back to the boat for dinner. Early to bed after reviewing the driving direction to the pinnacle of our trip. The day is almost here. And, as a good mother would do, I kept that a secret as I tucked the little ones in bed. And why, you ask, would I not tell them of the excitement that will unfold in the morning? Well, it is simple, sleep. We must sleep. Goodnight.
Just Beachy-Day 1
I am running my fingers through silky sand. It is fine and flies like tiny angels when I lift my hand into the wind and release my grasp. Fine grains of sand slip through the air. I look up at a giggle. Jack has his entire body covered in dark, damp grains of sand. It is in his hair, his shorts, between his toes. "I am a sand dragon, Mommy." Julia runs out to jump the waves again. They are cold. Very cold. Too cold for my toes, but I gave it a whirl five minutes ago and decided the dry hump of fine sand just outside of the rim of foam and just inside the cones the beach patrol has set out for the Navy to troop by on some special operation. Jack runs after his fairy roaring like a dragon and belly flops right into a foamy wave. Julia screams as he splashes her and runs back to base to roll up in her towel.
We will be going home soon. I am overwhelmed with the feeling of finality. This is it. Well, it could be. I feel the grains of sand shift through my toes and rub tears from my cheeks with my shoulder so I don't get sand nor salt in my eyes. One more time. Yes, I grab two little cold hands. The one in my right is creative, graceful, and introspective. The one in my left is wise beyond his years yet innocent and simple. I pull my dragon and my fairy to the waves for one more romp. I can jump higher, but they can splash bigger.
This June, I took my two little troopers to California. I had sold an art quilt, had two weeks before summer school started, and a lot of free stuff if I got on the horn to take advantage of them before they were gone. Our itinerary was packed full of adventure though I had visions of finishing a book, reading a magazine or two, and simply laying silent with my two bundles of joy. This would be my fantasy fullfilled, a California Dream Vacation with only pennies in my pocket, and a notch of completion on my Bucket List (My friend and founder of LifeRoo calls it a Life List. I think I like that better. Item 201 on my Life List...Take kids to Disneyland. Item 202...share the ocean with the kids at least once a year.)
Our first challenge was the airport. We have all flown before, but we were flying on the day after my infusion with Herceptin. Usually, the chemo-class drug riddles my body with fatigue, nausea, headaches, and a variety of fun side effects. They only last a day or so and are eased with a full day of sleep. But, since we were flying for just $15 in handling fees on our frequent flier mileage, we had to book Tuesday through Tuesday. So I downed my Tylenol and Zofran and told my body that it was just going to have to hold off on feeling crappy for one week. Incidentally, it did totally crash on me when we returned.
It turns out that travelling through security with two little ones has its advantage, or maybe I had some little sign on my back that read: help me out please. Everyone was so nice. Other mothers were helping me deal with the booster seats as they got tangled in the mess of the security conveyor belt. And, I got to walk with my children through the regular scanner and didn't have to explain that I couldn't go into the new x-ray deal because I had cancer and my body is already lit up with radiation. Though I was prepared for dramatic sighing, the lady at the counter actually smiled as I told her that I was not sitting with my children on the plane and the seats had to be rearranged for this very full flight just minutes before boarding was to begin. The flight was easy once we got seats three across.
Larry, my father-in-law, called promptly as I turned on my phone after landing. Our kind chauffeur, Larry, shuttled us through rush hour traffic from LAX to Long Beach with minimal expletives as I tried to memorize the Los Angeles driving techniques for my return to the airport in seven days. At Long Beach Marina, the kids and I got acquainted with our casa for the next few day, The Wind Rose. The kids are ecstatic we will be sharing the aft cabin bed and immediately ask what is for dinner. It is Taco Tuesday at Tequila Jack's on down the way in Shoreline Village. This is a term that seems to want to stick in our household though I write this on a Monday and served tacos this evening, I know that there will be a request for tacos tomorrow. The night is busy and the kids loose their patience and ability to stay awake. But, the $1 tacos, one pork, one shrimp, and one chicken are fabulous.
The night has crept in and the sun has set over the hundreds of boats in the marina. After learning the tricks for running the head (aka toilet that functions as a shower if you are so inclined,) we are left alone in the quiet of Gangway BB, slip 7 in Long Beach Marina. We can hear the seagulls and the waterfall turns off at 10 pm to reveal a low mechanical sound of the oil drills. The air is fresh with ocean and stars. But, I have to say that an astronomer would have much better luck viewing the Colorado skies. We lay, three in a row, looking up through the window above the bed. I pull out my i-Pad and scroll to the Skywalker ap. We view the constellations always looking for the North Star and Orion. The kids flip over on their bellies laying the i-Pad on the bed and discover Orion is somewhere under the bed. The kids giggle and ask if we can go to China tomorrow so we can see him shooting his arrows. It is nighttime there tomorrow, you know. We hold the i-Pad back over head. "That one there looks like the stingray I saw right when we got here in the water."
"It sure does. Now go to sleep as we have a big day tomorrow." Two seconds later, it is silent except for the rhythm of the ocean.
We will be going home soon. I am overwhelmed with the feeling of finality. This is it. Well, it could be. I feel the grains of sand shift through my toes and rub tears from my cheeks with my shoulder so I don't get sand nor salt in my eyes. One more time. Yes, I grab two little cold hands. The one in my right is creative, graceful, and introspective. The one in my left is wise beyond his years yet innocent and simple. I pull my dragon and my fairy to the waves for one more romp. I can jump higher, but they can splash bigger.
This June, I took my two little troopers to California. I had sold an art quilt, had two weeks before summer school started, and a lot of free stuff if I got on the horn to take advantage of them before they were gone. Our itinerary was packed full of adventure though I had visions of finishing a book, reading a magazine or two, and simply laying silent with my two bundles of joy. This would be my fantasy fullfilled, a California Dream Vacation with only pennies in my pocket, and a notch of completion on my Bucket List (My friend and founder of LifeRoo calls it a Life List. I think I like that better. Item 201 on my Life List...Take kids to Disneyland. Item 202...share the ocean with the kids at least once a year.)
Our first challenge was the airport. We have all flown before, but we were flying on the day after my infusion with Herceptin. Usually, the chemo-class drug riddles my body with fatigue, nausea, headaches, and a variety of fun side effects. They only last a day or so and are eased with a full day of sleep. But, since we were flying for just $15 in handling fees on our frequent flier mileage, we had to book Tuesday through Tuesday. So I downed my Tylenol and Zofran and told my body that it was just going to have to hold off on feeling crappy for one week. Incidentally, it did totally crash on me when we returned.
It turns out that travelling through security with two little ones has its advantage, or maybe I had some little sign on my back that read: help me out please. Everyone was so nice. Other mothers were helping me deal with the booster seats as they got tangled in the mess of the security conveyor belt. And, I got to walk with my children through the regular scanner and didn't have to explain that I couldn't go into the new x-ray deal because I had cancer and my body is already lit up with radiation. Though I was prepared for dramatic sighing, the lady at the counter actually smiled as I told her that I was not sitting with my children on the plane and the seats had to be rearranged for this very full flight just minutes before boarding was to begin. The flight was easy once we got seats three across.
Larry, my father-in-law, called promptly as I turned on my phone after landing. Our kind chauffeur, Larry, shuttled us through rush hour traffic from LAX to Long Beach with minimal expletives as I tried to memorize the Los Angeles driving techniques for my return to the airport in seven days. At Long Beach Marina, the kids and I got acquainted with our casa for the next few day, The Wind Rose. The kids are ecstatic we will be sharing the aft cabin bed and immediately ask what is for dinner. It is Taco Tuesday at Tequila Jack's on down the way in Shoreline Village. This is a term that seems to want to stick in our household though I write this on a Monday and served tacos this evening, I know that there will be a request for tacos tomorrow. The night is busy and the kids loose their patience and ability to stay awake. But, the $1 tacos, one pork, one shrimp, and one chicken are fabulous.
The night has crept in and the sun has set over the hundreds of boats in the marina. After learning the tricks for running the head (aka toilet that functions as a shower if you are so inclined,) we are left alone in the quiet of Gangway BB, slip 7 in Long Beach Marina. We can hear the seagulls and the waterfall turns off at 10 pm to reveal a low mechanical sound of the oil drills. The air is fresh with ocean and stars. But, I have to say that an astronomer would have much better luck viewing the Colorado skies. We lay, three in a row, looking up through the window above the bed. I pull out my i-Pad and scroll to the Skywalker ap. We view the constellations always looking for the North Star and Orion. The kids flip over on their bellies laying the i-Pad on the bed and discover Orion is somewhere under the bed. The kids giggle and ask if we can go to China tomorrow so we can see him shooting his arrows. It is nighttime there tomorrow, you know. We hold the i-Pad back over head. "That one there looks like the stingray I saw right when we got here in the water."
"It sure does. Now go to sleep as we have a big day tomorrow." Two seconds later, it is silent except for the rhythm of the ocean.
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