Yesterday was rough…and good…and rough…and good…

Rough:  Had my appointment with Dr. Long and he decided to do a spontaneous biopsy.  SO not what I had planned.  And now I need to wait until Friday for the results of that and my bloodwork.  Patience…no need to panic unnecessarily.

Good:  My son and dogs had a playdate last night that went very well.  My dogs were very much ok with a “strange” dog being in the house, and that made us all happy as you never really know how meet and greets are going to go.  I love that doggie.  I’m glad she could come to visit.  I miss her already and hope to have another playdate soon.

Rough:  And later that night, around 11:30pm the repo guys finally came to pick up my dad’s car.  And guess what??  I cried hysterically.  

Good:  While talking on the phone as they drove away, I realized that it’s just a stupid piece of metal and really it had no meaning to him or to me.  But it was just the “end”, or so it seemed.  Finalizing things is hard.  I don’t like it, but it has to be done.  That phone call last night really helped me to put things into perspective and made me feel SO much better.  Every once in a while I get a bit lost and forget what’s truly important.  It’s nice to be reminded.

And today is a new day…dreary out, but I’m still looking on the bright side.  I’m going to hold onto that happy yellow ball like it’s my lifeline.  I don’t give up very easily you know.

I am alive.  I have another shot to make my world and that of the people I love fun, happy, and comfy-cozy.  And I’m going to take it.

Shrimp and a car wash...two bits!

I’ve been having an amazing couple days.  Well, it’s been stressful, but I’ve been doing my best to make it as amazing as I can.  And you know what I decided to do to de-stress my world a bit?  Stop being a little bitch.  Yeah.  I said it.

I decided to face my fears.  I decided that I have way too many irrational “issues”.  So, I conquered two of them.  I intentionally ordered a shrimp dish, and I went through the car wash while sitting in the drivers seat.

Let’s start with shrimp.  Now I’m sure you’re thinking “shrimp?”  WTF?  But seriously.  Ever since I was little I’ve hated shrimp.  It squeaks when you chew it, ya know?  Really it does.  So regardless of how yummy it may be (and people tell me it’s damn yummy) I had decided to NEVER eat shrimp again.  BUT, when my son and I went out to dinner several weeks ago with a friend he ordered shrimp.  And me, being overly adventurous that day, decided I was going to try one.  And it didn’t kill me.  In fact, not only did it NOT kill me, but I actually thought it was tasty.  Hmmmm.

Fast forward to Sunday night at Olive Garden. Not my favorite place to eat, but you can’t always get what you want.  And what did I order?  Slow down.  Don’t be super impressed.  Not like I had shrimp scampi or anything.  But I DID in fact order stuffed mushrooms for my entrée…and they were stuffed with you guessed it…SHRIMP!  And I ate them all, even the squeaky ones.  And they were surprisingly yummy!  Who knew.

And today I was looking at my poor car (Finn is his name) and thinking that I was a HORRIBLE car owner.  You see, I’m deathly afraid of car washes.  No clue why.  Just can’t handle them.  So, my cars generally look like ASS in the winter (and as I’m told, disintegrate much more quickly).  In the summer I can wash my car in my driveway.  But winter, well, you understand.  I do live in Michigan ya know.  We have more salt around than a damn salt lick. 

So…something clicked in my head this afternoon and I WENT THROUGH A CAR WASH!!!  Yes, by golly, I did.  And I survived.  Granted, I had a panic attack and had to talk to someone the whole way though.   I was crying so hard by the end that I couldn’t even say thank you when I tipped the girl that was drying my car, but goddammit Finn is CLEAN!!!  You have no idea how big of a step this is for me.  No idea.  And I cannot thank that person enough.  Not to mention that he was the same individual that that shared his shrimp.  So he gets double thanks for helping me through my craziness.

And so…what’s next?  Well, I’m not sure breaking down and eating shrimp cocktail is the next logical step.  But maybe I can go through the car wash without having to talk to someone on the phone?  Maybe? 

Sigh...maybe not quite yet.  I think I need to be able to get through “tear free” before I go balls out solo. 

Baby steps my friends…baby steps.

Aunt Flo Rises from the Dead

As I’ve discussed in my previous posts, chemo put me into menopause.  Officially since October 2008. But recent events have blown that right out of the water.

Yes, likely too much info, but I’m going to throw it out there anyways.  I got my period on Thursday.  Yes, me…the girl in menopause for 3 ½ years very likely is NOT in fact in menopause.  Confused?  Me too.

Thing is, when I was first told I was in menopause I was a bit upset.  I had thought I was done having children and wasn’t upset about that, but instead didn’t appreciate the “opportunity” that was taken away from me.  Eventually I became more and more comfortable with my menopausal state (or at least I thought I had).  But, over the past year or so (yes, prior to last Thursday), I’ve started having “feelings”.  I’ve been pushing them aside for a myriad of reasons, but mostly because the idea of having a baby was, well, impossible.  Now that doesn’t necessarily seem to be the case.  So, where do I go from here?

I have to say that as a general rule, I am happy with the number of children I have.  I honesty couldn’t ask for better kids.  But when I start to think about the life I WANT to have with someone, I start to realize that having another child – a baby who is half “me” and half “someone I love with all my being” – well, it’s actually something that’s incredibly appealing.  Not to mention the fact that telling my youngest he’s going to be a big brother will likely make him the happiest kid on the damn planet.  And he’s pretty happy now, so that’s saying a lot.

Currently, my son and I are at a waterpark with my sister and several other family members.  Being here now, I’ve started to realize that I’ve never really been on a vacation with anyone other than my sister.  When I look around the waterpark and I see the families running, having fun, laughing -  I wish I was in that situation.  Instead, it’s me and my son.  (And don’t get me wrong, I’m happy about that and we are having an amazing time, but it could be better.)  I look around and see the dads carrying the babies, and I wonder…am I ever going to have that chance?  Am I ever going to be able to be in a “happy family” sort of situation?  Am I ever going to go on vacation with my son and someone I truly adore?  Will I ever get to the point where what I want is actually reality?  Right now, it seems like maybe some of those doors are opening.  And I like that.  Yes I still need that “person”.  But at least I can offer a bit more at this point.

And I would like to stress that I'm not going all baby crazy.  I am not simply hormonal.  I am not being over emotional.  Having another baby is not something I take lightly.  And it's not something that I would even consider unless that "someone I love with all my being" is involved.  I am happy with my life.  I am happy with my family.  And yes, I would be happy with more - assuming all the other ducks happily jump in line.

And so, I’m going to go see Dr. Long next week to confirm what appears is going on.  I have to say, I really do like the idea that my “option” has been restored. Not to mention the fact that I'd like to give a big "take THAT" to cancer.  Slowly, ever so slowly, I'm pulling myself out of that dark cancer cloud.  This is just another step in the right direction.  And I am so thankful.

I have SO much to offer someone.  I know this.  I know that I am a kick ass person who can have a kick ass relationship with the right individual.  I know that I can seriously rock someone’s world if given half a chance.  I know that that “right person” will instantly become a part of my family and will quickly become one of the most important people in my kids’ lives.  And now restoring the option of a baby will allow me to feel like I can truly offer EVERYTHING.  I always felt somewhat guilty about having to take a baby of the table.  How could I ask someone to give up that opportunity?  It just didn’t seem like a fair thing to ask a person to do.

And maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to ask that anymore…  

Seize the Day (Again)

I’ve written a lot of about this in the past but the statement seems to make more and more sense to me as the years go by.  Seize the damn day people.  Seize the damn day.

Over the past few years, I’ve become more and more comfortable with life in general.  Well, “comfortable” in that I’m starting to see what’s really important and what’s really not.  I’ve realized that in fact we don’t have unlimited time on this earth and to pretend that we do is just, well, absurd.  I’ve realized that being happy is not to be taken lightly.  I’ve realized that I deserve to have a kick ass future, and I deserve to share that kick ass future with people I love thereby giving THEM an even kickier ass future.  (So there.)  I’ve realized that going through the motions, or doing something just because I feel obligated or guilty is not truly living.  And these my friends, have been some damn hard lessons to learn.

Yes.  This all started with my cancer diagnosis, one that threw me completely off my rocker.  (And I do realize that it’s “normal” so don't go all therapy on me.)  Regardless, I’m still dealing with the aftermath today, even though I’m healthy.   I’m still trying to make sense of it all - what I went through, what I lost, what I gained.  I’m still trying to hold on to my belief in fate – to the idea that everything happens for a reason, even the super shitty stuff.

The people that have passed on over the last few years have truly taught me some of the greatest lessons.  Momma, Shannon, Deb, My Uncle, My Dad…so many have taught me that living, truly LIVING is the most important thing of all.  They have taught me that “just getting by” is not exactly living.  They have taught me not to settle for “ok”, or “almost”.  They have taught me that my life, and those lives around me are precious and to treat them as any less is absolutely disrespectful.  They have taught me that to think that I can wait to “fix things” or “try again” or “make things right”  or even to say “I love you” is never the appropriate attitude to have.  They have taught me that effort is key.  All we have is today.  Make the most of it now.

Last summer at Gilda’s I watched a documentary on young adult cancer.  Although the documentary itself was great, the main thing I remember about that movie was the final song.  (yes, I know…me…getting obsessed with the lyrics of a song.  Sigh…)

Done Living

By Justin McRoberts

Well, I spent the whole night fighting, fighting with some ghost

And when the break of morning found me, I had both won and lost

You see the question isn't are you gonna to suffer anymore

But what will it have meant when you are through?

The question isn't are you gonna to die, you're gonna to die.

But will you be done living when you do?

Yes, I spent the whole day running.  Trying to catch the sun

But when the darkness overtook me, all my running had made me strong

You see the question isn't are you gonna to suffer anymore

But what will it have meant when you are through?

The question isn't are you gonna to die, you're gonna to die.

But will you be done living when you do?

So run till you cannot take a single step in strength

Then crawl on your hands and knees, till your hands and knees they ache

And when you cannot crawl, it will be me you call to carry you back home again

Bottom line:  I want to live.  I want to fucking LIVE goddammit.  I don’t want to wait.  I don’t want to walk on eggshells hoping I say or do the right thing so that my life just falls into place.  I don’t want to wait for someone else to make a move.  I don’t even want to wait for fate to make a move.  (Though yes, I still believe 100% in fate and “what is meant to be will be”.)  But I want to be happy and to create a happy life for those I love NOW.  And that I will do.  That I AM doing.  I am making those positive moves, it just doesn't always look like it from the outside.

Tomorrow is not promised.  My biggest fear in life is to die with regret.  To realize that I should have done something different.  To figure out too late that I spent my days bitching, fretting and worrying.  To realize that my kids missed out on some experience because of me.  To realize that I didn't cherish those relationships that are important to me.


I don’t want to realize that I lived my life like a never-ending chess game – spending minutes, hours, even days PLANNING to live and never actually living.

Effort is key.  I'm making the effort.  Who's with me?

And as a side note on a somewhat different subject but still having to do with "being happy" and not "waiting", one can in fact get a brazillian wax even though no one else is going to see it at this point in time.  It's all about being comfortable in the "now".  But that's a story for another day...

Snowballs

A couple days ago my son got in trouble at school.  He was TERRIFIED to tell me.  They made him write the above note and bring it home for me to sign.  Sigh…

I ask you this - what the hell are we doing to our kids these days?  Why can’t we let them be kids?  Why do we have to raise a bunch of wussies??

Seriously, when I was little we’d actually PLAY on the playground.  You’d run, jump, twist on the swings, hang from the monkey bars, play tag and football, and yes…have a snowball fight.  But apparently, because someone can get “hurt”, many of these things are no longer allowed.  No wonder kids don’t want to do anything but sit in front of a TV or play video games.  They don’t know HOW to frickin’ play!  We have sheltered them so much that they are afraid to try new things.  They are afraid they might fall and get hurt because WE tell them they will.  WHY!!!!  Falling down and getting back up is a part of life.  Trying new things is important.  Scrapes, scratches, even broken bones…that’s a part of growing up.  Why teach kids to be afraid of play?  Why teach them to be afraid of the world in general?  Yes, the world can be a scary place, but sometimes we create our own fear for absolutely no reason.  I don’t think keeping them wrapped in bubble wrap is going to help them in the future.

I'm still in shock.  I can’t believe you can’t have a snowball fight on school grounds.  It's not like he pinned someone down and was pelting them with snowball after snowball.  It was a group of boys, dodging, weaving and running.  And no, I’m not saying putting rocks or chunks of ice in your snowball is ok.  But seriously?  A measly 9-year old size handful of snow??  He is not even allowed to pick up any snow on the ground.  CAN'T EVEN TOUCH IT!  Ugh.

Many will think I’m being a poor parent because I told him that I don’t see anything wrong with a snowball fight.  I DID in fact tell him that sometimes schools have rules that don’t make any sense, and even though his mom might not agree with the rule, he still has to follow it.  And it KILLED me to tell him he had to do that.  But for the sake of our stupid wussie over-paranoid society (and to keep him from getting suspended), I did.

However, as I discussed with someone last night, I will make sure he has ample time to work on his snowball throwing in our backyard so when the shit goes down, he will be ready.  And he will kick some serious ass when “the man” stops repressing his need to be a child. 

Merry Go Round

I went to my Rack Pack meeting yesterday at Gilda’s.  I haven’t been in quite some time, so I thought maybe I should.  Plus one of my friends was in town from Texas and wanted to see everyone again.  I did miss her.

I believe there were about 7-8 women there yesterday, all breast cancer survivors, all under 40.  As I turned 40 last year, I’m technically “grandfathered in” and can stay in the group – at least for a while.  Regardless, maybe it was only the fact that I hadn’t been there in a while, but I didn’t feel my normal “relief” that I usually do after the meeting.  In fact, the whole time I sat in that meeting I felt like I didn’t belong.  Why?  That’s the big question. 

Maybe it’s because so many of the members in that room are later stage survivors.  So many of them are in active treatment.  Yes, there were several of us that are years out – the furthest being 5 years.  And there I was, 3 years cancer free.  Maybe it’s that several of them had new babies and my kids are growing up?  Maybe it’s the fact that I didn’t freeze my eggs?  Maybe it’s guilt?

Hmmmm….what was wrong with me last night?!  And what’s wrong with me now?

Even when I listened to those talk that were also “cancer free” for years, I had issues relating to their stories.  Most of them had husbands and kids and talked about how they were dealing with things.  Yes, I have my youngest son with me, but at 9 he really doesn’t want to bring up the fact that I used to be bald, sleepy, etc.  It’s more of a “don’t talk about it and it didn’t really happen” concept.  I get that for a kid his age, but I wonder what he’s thinking sometimes?  I’m sure he thinks about it.  Kids absorb a lot more than we think they do.  But I don’t feel right bringing it up at this point.

I will try one more time to go to a meeting, likely next month.  Maybe I will feel more at ease.  I want to belong, I truly do.  I don’t like the idea of pushing feelings and thoughts aside, but maybe sometimes its better?  Maybe it’s more of a listening thing?  Maybe it’s more of a support thing?  Maybe I’m not the one that needs to be talking anymore?  Maybe I just need to listen to them?  Maybe my role has changed? 

And…I am healthy…maybe I shouldn’t feel guilty about it?  Then again…why am I healthy while they aren’t?  Why me and not them?  Why am I so frackin’ special?  What the hell do I have to whine and complain about?

It’s a merry-go-round and I think it’s time for me to jump off.

Sometimes You've Just Got to Break Out the Steve Earle

“And hey pretty baby won't you hold me tight
We're loadin' up and rollin' out of here tonight
One of these days I'm gonna settle down
And take you back with me to the Guitar Town”

Feeling Better

Sigh...

Foreclosures and Phone Calls

Just got the call that the bank officially foreclosed on my parent’s home today.  I know this is in theory a good thing.  I know this is something that had to happen.  I know that this is progress.  But I can’t help but want to sob uncontrollably.  My dad worked SO hard to keep that home.

Normally I would have called someone, cried for a bit, chatted about a different subject and felt better.  But I can’t right now.

I will be fine in the end of this.  I know this to be true.  But I can’t help but miss the ability to make that phone call.

Ring Them Bells

"Happy Cancerversary!"

That was the first contact that I had with someone this morning.  And it happened to be from my Honey.  And was perfect.  He is the only one that remembered and I'm ok with that.  He's the only one that I want/need to remember.

Above is my bell.  It is engraved "For my Baby, the strongest person I'll ever know."

He gave me that bell to celebrate my last day of Chemo on February 10, 2009.  I have rung that bell every February 10th since, and will continue to do so.  It is the most special present I've ever received.  I only wish he could hear me ring it.  But I know he will.  Just not today.

I've been struggling with a lot recently.  Much of this is personal so I'm not going to write about it in detail here.  But I will say that I've been writing about it.  I've been writing notes and letters.  Why?  Because that's how I deal with things.  Writing is important to me.  I settle things that way.  I can organize my thoughts and make them more coherent.  I can be happy, angry or cry in my writing.  It's something that's all MINE.

I went through years, decades really of not writing all because something I had written 20 years ago was not received as I had hoped by the person I gave it to.  It was a poem.  They read it and immediately said (paraphrasing) "I don't understand why poetry means anything.  It's just a bunch of crappy words written down that are supposed to be beautiful and meaningful and they just aren't."  And so, I stopped writing.

But when he came along, that changed.  I started writing again.  I started getting things out of my head. I started being ME again.  I can never thank him enough for that.  Never.

And so, in an attempt to get things out of my head, to make them more coherent and force them to make sense, I wrote a letter to him - one that I will never send.  I realize people usually write these types of letters when they are trying to get over someone, when they are trying to let things go.  It is the opposite for me.  I write these letters to deal with my feelings.  To deal with my fears.  To deal with my future plans and visions.  To deal with waiting.  To deal with my love.  I write these letters because if I don't, I will likely explode from the thoughts in my head.  I am inherently a sharing person, but these thoughts aren't meant to be shared with anyone but the subject of the letter.  And sharing those thoughts with him right now is not possible.

But I want to share.  I want to scream from the mountaintops.  But I can't.  Best I can do it make sure my feelings are known, and keep the intricate details to myself.  Best I can do is wait until he wants to know more.  Best I can do is not try to cause pain.  And so I wait.

So as a compromise to my internal "send or do not send" fight, I will post a short excerpt from the beginning and end of the current letter - just so maybe you can get an idea of how much writing helps.  And maybe this posting will help me to get my thoughts into the universe.

If you've never written a letter like this, you should really try.

"I want to say so much to you.  I want to tell you everything that’s in my heart and on my mind and I don’t like not being able to.  And if I could, would it be right?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  Of course, selfish me wants to pull out all the stops until you’re back in my arms.  Selfish me wants to tell you everything and send this letter.  Selfish me wants to tug at your heartstrings and scream “pick me, love me, stay with me”, but at the same time I don’t want you to feel that conflict.  I don’t want you to feel pain.  And I don’t want to overwhelm you, which I believe all this might do.  And so, this is the letter I won’t be able to send, even though every part of my being wants you to read my thoughts.  To hear my thoughts.  To know my thoughts.  This letter says way too much and way too little at the same time.   It is a love letter to you and to us.  It is a window into my soul…"

"Maybe you will read this eventually, as we cuddle on the couch and look out at the fresh snow from the house you built for us in Montana.  Until then, I will keep writing."