Tuesdays.
Tuesdays are hard.
All day I am tired.
So very tired.
I'm hot, then I'm cold.
And my skin HURTS. I don't know why that always surprises me. But, it does. Every time.
I woke up this morning and went into the living room. My two older kids were up with their dad reading a chapter in the scriptures before the start of our day. I did not read anything. My hood of my sweatshirt was pulled up over my head and all I wanted to do was lay back down and sleep. I forced myself up off the couch and went into the kitchen to take my synthroid (the medicine I take every day to replace the thyroid hormone that my body no longer makes). I longingly looked at my blessed Tylenol. I have to wait at least 30 minutes after taking my synthroid before taking anything else. Gah. Who knew 30 minutes can feel like an eternity?
After T and E got on the bus today for school, I was sad and was crying and I had to dig deep to find that motherly love to comfort and soothe him. He leaned up against me and since my body was all out of whack from my cancer treatment the night before, it hurt for him to touch me. But, he needed my touch so I dug deep and held him until he was better. I do not like to dig deep. It's tiring.
I sat on the couch literally waiting for the Tylenol to finally kick in. That usually takes another 30 minutes. During that 30 minutes, I wanted to play a game that I have been telling him we could play for the past week. I dug deep again and played the game. He LOVED it. He smiled and cheered when he won. And yes, it made me smile. I was not too tired to smile.
My day wasn't all that bad. I actually figured that out only after a text I received from my cousin that said,
"You made it through another Tuesday!"
Then I started thinking about the rest of my day. I got a text from a very good friend of mine with her new number since she moved. We texted back and forth for a while and it was very uplifting. Seriously, I love that girl. Then one of our friends came over just to be another adult in the house while my husband worked. It was so nice. The kids love her and she's really good at distracting them so I can get some much needed rest. Then, of course, I had my daily long phone conversation with my bestie. She made me laugh a lot and we talked about a lot of stuff and it felt good. I then gave my son I a mohawk. Seriously. It's not that great but he thinks he's cool. I even took a shower today! And then put my pajamas back on. :) I also received a bit of energy and made cupcakes. Then another good friend came over with dinner. Yes. DINNER. And her famous banana bread. Oh my gosh. I was and still am in heaven.
I told my cousin that I "barely" made it through the day. But, reflecting back on today and the choices that I could control and made, I didn't "barely" make it through the day. I "conquered" the day. Oooo...I really like the thought of "conquering." My house is a quasi mess. There are 3 baskets of laundry to fold and put away. There are dishes in the sink. My kitchen floor is in desperate need of a good mop. So on and so forth...And so what. Today I made a child happy. Today I made cupcakes for crying out loud. Today I was reminded that although I have to go through this, I have friends and family cheering me on and lifting me up. And, I also have amazing banana bread. Mmmmm...
So bring it Tuesdays! I'm ready to conquer another day!
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Saturday, February 1, 2014
The Long Run
April 2002
My mother and I were the voice of reason for my dad in a border town of Texas while he received alternative treatment for his cancer that could not be given to him in the United States. I left in the middle of my semester at the University of Minnesota to be there for my mom and my dad. Plus, I was fluent in Spanish so I could talk to the doctors in Mexico.
I. Was. A. Mess.
The treatment didn't work and my dad's health took a turn for the worse. We were 1700 miles away from home, not knowing anyone, with my dad in a hospital in Texas, not knowing how we were going to get him home. The doctors didn't want him to be moved. The three of us knew there was no turning back and we had to get him home so he could die at peace there.
Again... I. Was. A. Mess.
Jeremy and I were dating pretty seriously at that time. We talked everyday while I was in Texas. When my dad was admitted into the hospital, Jeremy and I talked that night and I gave him an out. An easy out. I told him there would be no hard feelings on my end if he decided to walk away and not look back. He let me argue my side until I was done and then he simply stated, "I'm in this for the long run."
Little did he or I know just how long that run was going to be.
March 2006
I was sitting on our bed and Jeremy was sitting on the floor with his back against the bed as we both listened to the results of my biopsy on the tumor on my neck. Cancer. Papillary Thyroid Cancer. I remember going numb hearing that news. My oldest, T, was two years old at the time and my second oldest, E, was only seven months old. Jeremy and I had been married for three and a half years. That's it.
I had surgery a week later where they removed my big, sticky tumor and my entire thyroid. It took a good two weeks for me to physically recover from that surgery. During that time, I was forced to stop breastfeeding E and he did not agree. He refused to eat or drink anything else and lived in a state of hunger for about four months. While Jeremy and I were trying to figure out a cancer-ful life at that time, we too had to figure out how to get E to eat and not scream at us all day. We still don't like talking about those months. It was hard.
Not having a thyroid was not fun either. I gained weight, my skin became so thick I couldn't even wear normal, everyday shoes because my feet would not fit into them, I was severely constipated, and holy depression. Needless to say...
I. Was. A. Mess.
Then, miraculously, the doctors figured out the right amount of medicine to give me to replace that very important hormone that was currently missing from my body and I felt GREAT. E finally agreed with us that whole milk was pretty darn good and decided to eat whatever we put in front of him as well. I remember Jeremy coming home from work to a clean house and I was playing with the kids and he sat beside me on the couch, gave me a hug and whispered, "I'm so glad my wife is back."
April 2013
It was a Wednesday. Jeremy was at work. I was getting ready to go to my chemistry class at school. The minivan was running to get warm and my phone rang. I picked it up and it was my doctor, Annie, calling me to tell me the news of my biopsy from my mole. She said that word...Melanoma. I had her repeat it again. I didn't believe her. Come on! I already had cancer once! I've played that card already! I was in a state of shock. I called Jeremy at work and told him the news. Then, I mechanically got ready the rest of the way, got my kids in the minivan, dropped them off at my sister-in-law's home, went to class and sat there for 50 minutes repeating over and over in my head, "Oh my gosh. I have cancer. I have a very scary cancer. Oh my gosh. I have cancer. I have a very scary cancer."
I. Was. A. Mess.
Surgery. Lots of pain. Sleepless nights. All day scans. Surgery again. Recover and try to keep it together. What? What was that? I have to go to the hospital again and have another surgery before my infection from my last surgery goes septic? Oh sure, why not? I didn't really want to go to Mt. Rushmore with my family for our summer vacation anyway. Oh sarcasm...
Treatment Monday-Friday for four weeks in August. Gah. Enough said.
Treatment by injection Monday, Wednesday and Friday until July. Hey! I'm halfway there!
I. Am. A. Mess.
A happy mess. But a mess nonetheless.
I can pretty much tell you that Jeremy and I will probably never run a marathon. Like ever. At least not the running kind. Instead, we've gotten pretty good at running a different kind of marathon.
Marriage.
Jeremy did say he was in this for the "long run." Me too Jeremy. Me too.
My mother and I were the voice of reason for my dad in a border town of Texas while he received alternative treatment for his cancer that could not be given to him in the United States. I left in the middle of my semester at the University of Minnesota to be there for my mom and my dad. Plus, I was fluent in Spanish so I could talk to the doctors in Mexico.
I. Was. A. Mess.
The treatment didn't work and my dad's health took a turn for the worse. We were 1700 miles away from home, not knowing anyone, with my dad in a hospital in Texas, not knowing how we were going to get him home. The doctors didn't want him to be moved. The three of us knew there was no turning back and we had to get him home so he could die at peace there.
Again... I. Was. A. Mess.
Jeremy and I were dating pretty seriously at that time. We talked everyday while I was in Texas. When my dad was admitted into the hospital, Jeremy and I talked that night and I gave him an out. An easy out. I told him there would be no hard feelings on my end if he decided to walk away and not look back. He let me argue my side until I was done and then he simply stated, "I'm in this for the long run."
Little did he or I know just how long that run was going to be.
March 2006
I was sitting on our bed and Jeremy was sitting on the floor with his back against the bed as we both listened to the results of my biopsy on the tumor on my neck. Cancer. Papillary Thyroid Cancer. I remember going numb hearing that news. My oldest, T, was two years old at the time and my second oldest, E, was only seven months old. Jeremy and I had been married for three and a half years. That's it.
I had surgery a week later where they removed my big, sticky tumor and my entire thyroid. It took a good two weeks for me to physically recover from that surgery. During that time, I was forced to stop breastfeeding E and he did not agree. He refused to eat or drink anything else and lived in a state of hunger for about four months. While Jeremy and I were trying to figure out a cancer-ful life at that time, we too had to figure out how to get E to eat and not scream at us all day. We still don't like talking about those months. It was hard.
Not having a thyroid was not fun either. I gained weight, my skin became so thick I couldn't even wear normal, everyday shoes because my feet would not fit into them, I was severely constipated, and holy depression. Needless to say...
I. Was. A. Mess.
Then, miraculously, the doctors figured out the right amount of medicine to give me to replace that very important hormone that was currently missing from my body and I felt GREAT. E finally agreed with us that whole milk was pretty darn good and decided to eat whatever we put in front of him as well. I remember Jeremy coming home from work to a clean house and I was playing with the kids and he sat beside me on the couch, gave me a hug and whispered, "I'm so glad my wife is back."
April 2013
It was a Wednesday. Jeremy was at work. I was getting ready to go to my chemistry class at school. The minivan was running to get warm and my phone rang. I picked it up and it was my doctor, Annie, calling me to tell me the news of my biopsy from my mole. She said that word...Melanoma. I had her repeat it again. I didn't believe her. Come on! I already had cancer once! I've played that card already! I was in a state of shock. I called Jeremy at work and told him the news. Then, I mechanically got ready the rest of the way, got my kids in the minivan, dropped them off at my sister-in-law's home, went to class and sat there for 50 minutes repeating over and over in my head, "Oh my gosh. I have cancer. I have a very scary cancer. Oh my gosh. I have cancer. I have a very scary cancer."
I. Was. A. Mess.
Surgery. Lots of pain. Sleepless nights. All day scans. Surgery again. Recover and try to keep it together. What? What was that? I have to go to the hospital again and have another surgery before my infection from my last surgery goes septic? Oh sure, why not? I didn't really want to go to Mt. Rushmore with my family for our summer vacation anyway. Oh sarcasm...
Treatment Monday-Friday for four weeks in August. Gah. Enough said.
Treatment by injection Monday, Wednesday and Friday until July. Hey! I'm halfway there!
I. Am. A. Mess.
A happy mess. But a mess nonetheless.
I can pretty much tell you that Jeremy and I will probably never run a marathon. Like ever. At least not the running kind. Instead, we've gotten pretty good at running a different kind of marathon.
Marriage.
Jeremy did say he was in this for the "long run." Me too Jeremy. Me too.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Special Guest Author presents: "The Rest"
Preface
This is not Sara you are reading today.
Or tonight.
I suppose that the time of the reading is irrelevant...
The point is that this is Jeremy. If you've read previous entries, you may have seen passing reference to me. I'm the husband. The significant other. You're probably used to Sara's writing and her personality. In order to make the change of voice slightly less jarring, we're going to have to get some things out of the way up front so that you have an idea of what you're dealing with when I'm driving the word machine; a few disclaimers, if you will. Then you can't say I didn't warn you.
First off, I like parenthesis, footnotes(1), and ellipsis (the three dots when you trail off...)
I just used all three in their own explanation. That's how much I like them.
Secondly, I am not normal. I am wired in a weird way (that was a fun sentence to type). I am able to operate on minimal sleep for extended periods of time. It's a blessing and a curse. I've been told that I am scary and intimidating until people get to know me (if I let them). Once we get to the meat of the post, keep in mind that I am probably a few standard deviations from the mean. Your results may vary. Adjust cooking times for high altitude or lower wattage ovens. If you feel like you don't get something, it's okay; there may not have been anything to get in the first place(2).
Thirdly, I grew up as a pessimist. I got a little better. I now (half-jokingly) refer to myself as a "bitter optimist." Everything will work out fine in the end, but until then, it's gonna suck. I'm working on it.
Finally, I have been over thinking this for too long (3). Sara asked me to write a post awhile ago and I said yes and set dates to do it and they passed. What exactly do I write? Should I be lighthearted and funny? Brutally honest? Avoid certain topics altogether? What do I even say? In the end it came down to the fact that I just needed so sit down and do it. So here I am. Fasten your seat belts and return your tray tables to the full upright position. Let's get into it.
The Rest
Twice.
That probably qualifies me for membership in a pretty small (and mildly depressing) club. Not a lot of people can say that. Not a lot of people should ever have to say that. At all. Even once.
I am not the type to ask for help. I'm almost literally impossible to take care of. Just ask Sara. But I will help you even if it means a horrible inconvenience to me. You can ask a lot of people about that. I am not sure why. There are probably a number of reasons. We can ask the psychiatrist later if you really want to...
I am going to explain this so you can see more of what happens in our life. This is not for any attention or accolades for me. I want no flattery. If you want to help, help her. This is the only way I know how to do things.
How do I cope with her illness (or disease, or infection, or whatever the correct way to say it is)?
I do the rest.
Some days, that means what it does in any "normal" relationship (4). We both work on things together, like putting kids to bed, shopping, cleaning, or whatever. However, there aren't a lot of normal days, at least not consecutively. Don't get me wrong; it's not bad all the time, by any means. Things are getting better. The fact that she can be at home and do treatment is great. It's nothing like having her quarantined for a week because she's literally emitting enough radiation that it would cause harm to people. We can talk about that week some other time.
When she decides to go ahead with the treatment of shots three times a week, but can't bring herself to do the actual shot part, I do that even though I hate myself every time. When we have to cancel a vacation because she has to spend a week in the hospital, I print a picture of some scenery to tape on the window and we make s'mores in the stupid hospital so she doesn't feel as bad about us missing our trip. When she has no energy and I get home from work and she's just reading and it looks like some type of snack cracker grenade blew up in my living room, I clean it up. When the kids are on her last nerve at noon, I try to find a way to get home early or send someone over. When I have a brutally long and exhausting day, I take all 4 kids to the grocery store when I get home so that she can have a break. When she spends the night in fevered delusion and has chills and muscle spasms, I sit up and do what she needs and don't sleep at all so that she can sleep a little. When kids wake up at night scared or sick, I get up with them. I sleep on floors next to beds, I go grocery shopping at 2am, I pretend like it doesn't hurt my feelings when she's upset and yells at me that I don't understand because I don't have cancer because I know she didn't mean it and she's just frustrated and I even type stuff like that even though I know she's going to read this.
If our roles were reversed, she'd do it for me.
So no matter how little or how much it is, that's what I do.
The rest.
Footnotes
(2) I make inside jokes and references with no one around that will get them but me. It's for my own amusement. I have to spend a lot of time with me, so I might as well enjoy my company.
(3) Is over-thinking hyphenated or not? Am I over thinking this?
(4) I don't like the word "normal" in general, but specifically in regard to relationships. There are so many variables and so many abnormal things that go into a relationship, that I feel like "normal" is just a relative term and what's normal for one couple may not be for another... It's like when people ask me which video game system is better (I'm an avid gamer, by the way). "Better" means something different to everyone.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
My Fairy Godmother
So, it's after midnight and I'm still up. I really should be in bed. But today is a shot day. And I am scared, terrified, anxious...to get one.
Monday night was HORRIBLE.
I had been off my shots for about two weeks so I could recover from my wicked sinus infection I got the week of Christmas. I did take my Tylenol two hours before the shot and then my husband set his alarm to go off two hours later (12:00 a.m.) so I could take another dose of Tylenol.
Those were the best two hours of sleep I've had in forever. And the last of the night.
Fever, muscle spasms, chills, cramps, migraine, sensitive skin from the fever, too hot, too cold, so very sore...
Sounds fun, right? Five hours of fun...
Five hours of wondering if these cancer treatments were worth it. Five hours of wondering why I was lucky enough to get two different and totally unrelated cancers in my short 37 years of life. Five hours of wondering why the damn Tylenol wasn't working. Five hours of wondering why they haven't come up with a better treatment for cancer patients that wouldn't involve all of these difficult symptoms. Five hours of hoping that all my kids would sleep, not wake up from a bad dream or because they needed a snuggle so they didn't have to see me like this. Five hours of fluctuating between anger, tears and sadness. Five hours of feeling guilty as my husband stayed up with me to help me get through it even though he had to be at work early in the morning.
Then, five hours later, 5:00 a.m. on a Tuesday morning...RELIEF.
It was as if Cinderella's fairy godmother came over, sang bippity boppity boo and waved her magical wand over me and magically my fever broke, my muscles relaxed, and sleep finally claimed me.
Personally, I would rather have the flexible glass slippers w/o the cancer please.
Oh - and the dress.
But here's the thing my fairy godmother did give me that I wanted...all four of my children were as quiet as mice as they all slept through the night. Miracle. Seriously. The Tylenol finally shared the burden of my symptoms and alleviated enough of them so I could sleep. A sense of peace and accomplishment accompanied by a smile with the thought, "I did it. I CAN DO THIS." And my favorite that she has given me, of course...my prince. For two hours he massaged my back, my bum and my legs to relieve the pain. He curled up beside me when I got cold and then took the blankets off of me and gave me space when I got too hot. He prayed for me. He cried with me. He held me. He then held my hand as I finally fell asleep.
I totally love him.
Yes, I am still scared, terrified and anxious to get my shot tonight. But that prince of mine is waiting and ready to help me again. With him I can do this.
So yes, this is worth it. Our relationship is stronger because of the physical trials I have gone through and will go through and I am okay with that. The Tylenol will work better tonight because his buddy Ibuprofen is helping him out tonight. As for easier cancer treatments - I don't have the answer for that. I'm just grateful they have treatments. I hope my kids will continue to sleep peacefully and in their own beds tonight. And my husband has work off tomorrow so hopefully he can get some much needed rest.
I guess I really don't need a fairy godmother after all. I have everything that I need and care about and love.
I still want the shoes though. And the dress.
Monday night was HORRIBLE.
I had been off my shots for about two weeks so I could recover from my wicked sinus infection I got the week of Christmas. I did take my Tylenol two hours before the shot and then my husband set his alarm to go off two hours later (12:00 a.m.) so I could take another dose of Tylenol.
Those were the best two hours of sleep I've had in forever. And the last of the night.
Fever, muscle spasms, chills, cramps, migraine, sensitive skin from the fever, too hot, too cold, so very sore...
Sounds fun, right? Five hours of fun...
Five hours of wondering if these cancer treatments were worth it. Five hours of wondering why I was lucky enough to get two different and totally unrelated cancers in my short 37 years of life. Five hours of wondering why the damn Tylenol wasn't working. Five hours of wondering why they haven't come up with a better treatment for cancer patients that wouldn't involve all of these difficult symptoms. Five hours of hoping that all my kids would sleep, not wake up from a bad dream or because they needed a snuggle so they didn't have to see me like this. Five hours of fluctuating between anger, tears and sadness. Five hours of feeling guilty as my husband stayed up with me to help me get through it even though he had to be at work early in the morning.
Then, five hours later, 5:00 a.m. on a Tuesday morning...RELIEF.
It was as if Cinderella's fairy godmother came over, sang bippity boppity boo and waved her magical wand over me and magically my fever broke, my muscles relaxed, and sleep finally claimed me.
Personally, I would rather have the flexible glass slippers w/o the cancer please.
Oh - and the dress.
But here's the thing my fairy godmother did give me that I wanted...all four of my children were as quiet as mice as they all slept through the night. Miracle. Seriously. The Tylenol finally shared the burden of my symptoms and alleviated enough of them so I could sleep. A sense of peace and accomplishment accompanied by a smile with the thought, "I did it. I CAN DO THIS." And my favorite that she has given me, of course...my prince. For two hours he massaged my back, my bum and my legs to relieve the pain. He curled up beside me when I got cold and then took the blankets off of me and gave me space when I got too hot. He prayed for me. He cried with me. He held me. He then held my hand as I finally fell asleep.
I totally love him.
Yes, I am still scared, terrified and anxious to get my shot tonight. But that prince of mine is waiting and ready to help me again. With him I can do this.
So yes, this is worth it. Our relationship is stronger because of the physical trials I have gone through and will go through and I am okay with that. The Tylenol will work better tonight because his buddy Ibuprofen is helping him out tonight. As for easier cancer treatments - I don't have the answer for that. I'm just grateful they have treatments. I hope my kids will continue to sleep peacefully and in their own beds tonight. And my husband has work off tomorrow so hopefully he can get some much needed rest.
I guess I really don't need a fairy godmother after all. I have everything that I need and care about and love.
I still want the shoes though. And the dress.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Christmas Wish
For the past 5 years, I have been doing the 12 days of Christmas with my kids. It's a fun little tradition we do and I really love doing it. The reason why I started this particular tradition was because I wanted to focus more on my immediate family during the holiday season than have them and myself get so wrapped up on all the commercialism of the season.
Anywho...
This year of 12 days of Christmas started like all the other years. I have a list of what we will be doing as a family each day - playing board games, visiting friends, looking at Christmas lights, etc. On Friday, the 13th (ooooooooo), we had a movie night. We had a chocolate fondue (yes!) and then we went through Netflix and watched Christmas movies. The kids were laying on the living room floor watching Charlie Brown's Christmas and I was sitting on our couch, by myself, watching them watch the movie. Then, out of the blue, E, my 8 year old, came and snuggled up to me. Then, a couple of minutes later, T, my 10 year old came and cuddled up on my other side. I was now officially a mama sandwich. I stretched out my arms and draped them over their shoulders. My 4 year old, I, did not want to be left out so he literally climbed up behind me and continued to watch the movie. Now usually, by the end of the day, the last thing I want is for my kids to invade my space. Moms - you know what I mean. It was late and I was still feeling the effects of the cancer shot/treatment I got the previous night. But, what I felt at that moment will be something I will never forget and it will be something that I will cling on to when life gets rough.
I felt LOVE and PEACE.
I was sitting there, snuggling with my kids and the thought came to me that this could have been my last Christmas with them. I'm not trying to be morbid - I'm just being real. When you are diagnosed with what could be a life threatening disease, such as cancer, it makes you stop and reflect a lot more than when you are healthy and things are going well in life. I love those moments of clarity and humbleness. I'm grateful I keep getting these 2nd chances of life. Really grateful. And oh my gosh, do I ever love my kids! In that moment of snuggliness, I did not want to let them go and I wanted that moment to last forever.
I don't know what the future holds in store for me. We are all cautiously optimistic that I will fight these darn cooties to their death. But for now, I will continue to live each day as full as I can and I will take advantage of those sandwich moments with my kids. So, our Christmas wish to you is the same - find those sandwich moments and savor them! We love you and we thank you for all your prayers and love.
Anywho...
This year of 12 days of Christmas started like all the other years. I have a list of what we will be doing as a family each day - playing board games, visiting friends, looking at Christmas lights, etc. On Friday, the 13th (ooooooooo), we had a movie night. We had a chocolate fondue (yes!) and then we went through Netflix and watched Christmas movies. The kids were laying on the living room floor watching Charlie Brown's Christmas and I was sitting on our couch, by myself, watching them watch the movie. Then, out of the blue, E, my 8 year old, came and snuggled up to me. Then, a couple of minutes later, T, my 10 year old came and cuddled up on my other side. I was now officially a mama sandwich. I stretched out my arms and draped them over their shoulders. My 4 year old, I, did not want to be left out so he literally climbed up behind me and continued to watch the movie. Now usually, by the end of the day, the last thing I want is for my kids to invade my space. Moms - you know what I mean. It was late and I was still feeling the effects of the cancer shot/treatment I got the previous night. But, what I felt at that moment will be something I will never forget and it will be something that I will cling on to when life gets rough.
I felt LOVE and PEACE.
I was sitting there, snuggling with my kids and the thought came to me that this could have been my last Christmas with them. I'm not trying to be morbid - I'm just being real. When you are diagnosed with what could be a life threatening disease, such as cancer, it makes you stop and reflect a lot more than when you are healthy and things are going well in life. I love those moments of clarity and humbleness. I'm grateful I keep getting these 2nd chances of life. Really grateful. And oh my gosh, do I ever love my kids! In that moment of snuggliness, I did not want to let them go and I wanted that moment to last forever.
I don't know what the future holds in store for me. We are all cautiously optimistic that I will fight these darn cooties to their death. But for now, I will continue to live each day as full as I can and I will take advantage of those sandwich moments with my kids. So, our Christmas wish to you is the same - find those sandwich moments and savor them! We love you and we thank you for all your prayers and love.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!
I, E, T, K (front)
Studman Jeremy and Cancer Fighting Gorgeous Me (back)
Sunday, November 24, 2013
It's Time
I've written at least 5 other posts before this post and have deleted them all. Again - what do people want to read and know about? How about this...I don't complain as much as I did in the beginning of treatment. I have come to terms this is my new normal for a while so just suck it up. I. Am. Alive. And we are aggressively fighting these darn cancer cooties to their death.
That being said...
What else do the masses want to know? Remember that one post I said I wasn't going to lose my hair? Well, I was also told that my hair could start thinning. I had no idea what that meant up until 4 weeks ago. I woke up one night with hair in my mouth. What the heck? Then, I went to my therapy appointment for my lymphedema and was laying down while my OT (occupational therapist) worked miracles on my sausage leg (I no longer have a major lymphatic system in my left leg because of my cancer and therefore the fluid doesn't know where to go and just stays in my one leg and really makes it look like a fat, juicy sausage. Beautiful) and I got up, looked at the pillow and it was COVERED in hair. My hair to be exact. My scalp hurts a lot too. Not everyday. On the days it does hurt (like today), more hair disappears. I now have two receding hair lines, just like those men who start losing their hair. I keep asking my studly husband to check the back of my head just in case I start getting the bald spot there. My oncologist told me not to do anything drastic, like shave all my hair off. He's had others on this treatment who started losing hair but no one went bald and their hair grew back afterwards. Ok. I trust the dude. I will make do with what I have.
One more thing - what has been hard for me the past couple of weeks is how my treatment really dictates what kind of day I will have. For example, today is Sunday. I always go to church with the family on Sundays. I love going to church. I love going with my family. But, sometimes, I just can't do it because the treatment is making me feel "off." Today is one of those "off" days. My husband convinced me to stay home. So, I'm home because of the treatment that is getting rid of my pesky cancer cooties. But you know what? That's ok. I need to keep telling myself that. I have until July to feel "off" (treatment will be done by then). Right? I struggle with this though. I really do. I pretty much know what kind of day I will have the moment I wake up. Today, I knew I wouldn't be going anywhere. Yesterday? I had a lot of energy and conned my brother into painting my kitchen with me. I love those days. I shower, I get a lot of things done around the house and it feels good.
But, I'm not going to complain. I keep thinking about that day the oncologist came into my dad's hospital room telling him and us that he had 3 months to 3 years to live. Stupid colon cancer. There is no cap on my life like my father's. Yes, life is a little bit harder than it was 6 months ago. But I'm still living it. Honest to goodness - the good days really do outweigh the "off" days. My dad lived 11 months after that day in the hospital room. The last couple months of his life were spent in a hospital bed in the middle of our living room. But the months before that were spent LIVING. He was always good at that and he continued to do it even with the threat of death. One of my favorite memories of my dad during that time was coming home for the weekend from the cities to spend time with him. We did together what he loved doing best - yard work. I remember pulling weeds out of his rhubarb patch and he followed behind to till the soil. There is this picture of us from that day - his arm was around my shoulders and we were smiling. We had just got done making his rhubarb patch all pretty and it felt GOOD. Good to be with my dad and good to share that experience with my dad as well. There are so many questions I would ask my dad now that I didn't know to ask him while he was alive. What were his struggles in being diagnosed with terminal cancer? Was he scared? Was he angry? Did he ever get used to his limitations? I'm sure my mom saw and heard a lot more than we did, just as my husband does now. I miss my dad. A lot. But I'm going to continue to remember how he lived after the horrible news of his cancer spreading. He brought so much joy and laughter in people's lives - he never stopped doing that until the day he took his last breath. He was pretty freaking amazing.
Anyway...this post has been rather therapeutic for me today. Whew. I'm going to go lay down now and rest so I can feel not "off" tomorrow! Meanwhile - please comment and ask me anything! What do you want/need to know about what I'm going through? What are you curious about? Go ahead and give me ideas on what to write about. Anything. Anything at all. Feel free to be my therapist! Until then...
That being said...
What else do the masses want to know? Remember that one post I said I wasn't going to lose my hair? Well, I was also told that my hair could start thinning. I had no idea what that meant up until 4 weeks ago. I woke up one night with hair in my mouth. What the heck? Then, I went to my therapy appointment for my lymphedema and was laying down while my OT (occupational therapist) worked miracles on my sausage leg (I no longer have a major lymphatic system in my left leg because of my cancer and therefore the fluid doesn't know where to go and just stays in my one leg and really makes it look like a fat, juicy sausage. Beautiful) and I got up, looked at the pillow and it was COVERED in hair. My hair to be exact. My scalp hurts a lot too. Not everyday. On the days it does hurt (like today), more hair disappears. I now have two receding hair lines, just like those men who start losing their hair. I keep asking my studly husband to check the back of my head just in case I start getting the bald spot there. My oncologist told me not to do anything drastic, like shave all my hair off. He's had others on this treatment who started losing hair but no one went bald and their hair grew back afterwards. Ok. I trust the dude. I will make do with what I have.
One more thing - what has been hard for me the past couple of weeks is how my treatment really dictates what kind of day I will have. For example, today is Sunday. I always go to church with the family on Sundays. I love going to church. I love going with my family. But, sometimes, I just can't do it because the treatment is making me feel "off." Today is one of those "off" days. My husband convinced me to stay home. So, I'm home because of the treatment that is getting rid of my pesky cancer cooties. But you know what? That's ok. I need to keep telling myself that. I have until July to feel "off" (treatment will be done by then). Right? I struggle with this though. I really do. I pretty much know what kind of day I will have the moment I wake up. Today, I knew I wouldn't be going anywhere. Yesterday? I had a lot of energy and conned my brother into painting my kitchen with me. I love those days. I shower, I get a lot of things done around the house and it feels good.
But, I'm not going to complain. I keep thinking about that day the oncologist came into my dad's hospital room telling him and us that he had 3 months to 3 years to live. Stupid colon cancer. There is no cap on my life like my father's. Yes, life is a little bit harder than it was 6 months ago. But I'm still living it. Honest to goodness - the good days really do outweigh the "off" days. My dad lived 11 months after that day in the hospital room. The last couple months of his life were spent in a hospital bed in the middle of our living room. But the months before that were spent LIVING. He was always good at that and he continued to do it even with the threat of death. One of my favorite memories of my dad during that time was coming home for the weekend from the cities to spend time with him. We did together what he loved doing best - yard work. I remember pulling weeds out of his rhubarb patch and he followed behind to till the soil. There is this picture of us from that day - his arm was around my shoulders and we were smiling. We had just got done making his rhubarb patch all pretty and it felt GOOD. Good to be with my dad and good to share that experience with my dad as well. There are so many questions I would ask my dad now that I didn't know to ask him while he was alive. What were his struggles in being diagnosed with terminal cancer? Was he scared? Was he angry? Did he ever get used to his limitations? I'm sure my mom saw and heard a lot more than we did, just as my husband does now. I miss my dad. A lot. But I'm going to continue to remember how he lived after the horrible news of his cancer spreading. He brought so much joy and laughter in people's lives - he never stopped doing that until the day he took his last breath. He was pretty freaking amazing.
Anyway...this post has been rather therapeutic for me today. Whew. I'm going to go lay down now and rest so I can feel not "off" tomorrow! Meanwhile - please comment and ask me anything! What do you want/need to know about what I'm going through? What are you curious about? Go ahead and give me ideas on what to write about. Anything. Anything at all. Feel free to be my therapist! Until then...
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Update on Moi
Why hello there! It's been awhile, I know. Been sorta busy figuring life out with school starting for T and E and what to do with I and K at home.
I AM TIRED.
Lots and lots of tired. Actually, I am really tired of being tired. Why am I tired, you ask? Well, I'm on round two of my cancer treatments. I am still getting interferon treatments, just not as much as before. Now, my awesome and brave husband gives me a shot of interferon 3 times a week (Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday). I still take my rounds of Tylenol and Ibuprofen every two hours b/c we found out quick if I didn't do that, I would become very SICK. Yuck.
So, I'm getting shots now. They hurt and the medicine burns going in. And I get to have this treatment until July of 2014. Yaaaaaaaaay.
They did warn me that I was going to be tired. I just didn't know how tired I was going to be. And I've got muscle fatigue as well. Which is worse than just being plain 'ol tired. It's easier to fight through being tired. Now I have to figure out how to fight through my noodly legs from the fatigue. Getting everyday house chores done is a total challenge. I get really excited now when I actually clean the kitchen. Like really clean it - the way I used to do it. Like today - I had a burst of energy so I took advantage of it and cleaned my kitchen. Now, if I could get someone to mop my kitchen floor. That sounds heavenly. <sigh>
Jeremy and I realized that this is the new normal for me now until I'm done w/ treatment. And since we have pretty much come to terms with it, we are finding ways to work around it. I just sat down with my two oldest, T and E, and explained to them what everyday life is like for me. I compared it to them having strep or sick with the flu. You just don't feel well and you just want to sit on the couch and watch Ninjago, Phineas and Ferb and Mythbusters episodes on Netflix all day and sleep in between. They both looked at me and were a little shocked that that was how I was feeling. After our little talk, they both agreed that they would clean the living room and front closet for me. My living room is now clean. So is my front closet. The closet is even ORGANIZED. Nice. My kids are pretty freaking awesome. And my kitchen and living room are both clean. Right now. I am happy. And tired. Always tired.
I'm just really grateful for a bestie and a husband who let me complain daily about my tiredness. Cuz that's one thing I'm really good at now - complaining. And they let me think aloud constantly on ways I can overcome this fatigue and what I can do for the next year to stay sane! Seriously. I'm also grateful for all the prayers sent my way. From people who I haven't seen since high school and people that I have never met. It's pretty cool. So, thank you. You guys are awesome!
Well, that's it for now. I'm going to continue being tired, work my way around it somehow and keep on laughing and smiling. I've heard that laughter is the best medicine. It's free too. :)
I AM TIRED.
Lots and lots of tired. Actually, I am really tired of being tired. Why am I tired, you ask? Well, I'm on round two of my cancer treatments. I am still getting interferon treatments, just not as much as before. Now, my awesome and brave husband gives me a shot of interferon 3 times a week (Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday). I still take my rounds of Tylenol and Ibuprofen every two hours b/c we found out quick if I didn't do that, I would become very SICK. Yuck.
So, I'm getting shots now. They hurt and the medicine burns going in. And I get to have this treatment until July of 2014. Yaaaaaaaaay.
They did warn me that I was going to be tired. I just didn't know how tired I was going to be. And I've got muscle fatigue as well. Which is worse than just being plain 'ol tired. It's easier to fight through being tired. Now I have to figure out how to fight through my noodly legs from the fatigue. Getting everyday house chores done is a total challenge. I get really excited now when I actually clean the kitchen. Like really clean it - the way I used to do it. Like today - I had a burst of energy so I took advantage of it and cleaned my kitchen. Now, if I could get someone to mop my kitchen floor. That sounds heavenly. <sigh>
Jeremy and I realized that this is the new normal for me now until I'm done w/ treatment. And since we have pretty much come to terms with it, we are finding ways to work around it. I just sat down with my two oldest, T and E, and explained to them what everyday life is like for me. I compared it to them having strep or sick with the flu. You just don't feel well and you just want to sit on the couch and watch Ninjago, Phineas and Ferb and Mythbusters episodes on Netflix all day and sleep in between. They both looked at me and were a little shocked that that was how I was feeling. After our little talk, they both agreed that they would clean the living room and front closet for me. My living room is now clean. So is my front closet. The closet is even ORGANIZED. Nice. My kids are pretty freaking awesome. And my kitchen and living room are both clean. Right now. I am happy. And tired. Always tired.
I'm just really grateful for a bestie and a husband who let me complain daily about my tiredness. Cuz that's one thing I'm really good at now - complaining. And they let me think aloud constantly on ways I can overcome this fatigue and what I can do for the next year to stay sane! Seriously. I'm also grateful for all the prayers sent my way. From people who I haven't seen since high school and people that I have never met. It's pretty cool. So, thank you. You guys are awesome!
Well, that's it for now. I'm going to continue being tired, work my way around it somehow and keep on laughing and smiling. I've heard that laughter is the best medicine. It's free too. :)
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