The Feelings Police

Do you ever find yourself, inside your own personal flavor of crazy, policing your feelings?


I do. Or, rather, I am.


I'm having a moment. Again.


After nearly 8 years and nothing but good reports and clean scans, I had my Chordoma follow-up appointment today. We breezed right in to the office, treating it like the formality it felt like.


As expected, there was no local recurrence of the Chordoma. Good news! But the nodule on my lungs they've been following has grown a bit. About a millimeter since the last CT. So, I should see a thoracic surgeon. This week. They think it's unrelated to the chordoma. But still, it might be something. And even if it's nothing (benign) they may want to remove it anyway. From MY LUNGS.


I took this news pretty rationally at first. The intern handled it very well. (Yes, intern, Why do they always make the interns do this sh*t? Isn't this the stuff that's above their pay grade?) He explained calmly that there are a number of things it could be. Some benign. And the excellent thoracic surgeon at the hospital will be able to explain more.


My radiation oncologist, when questioned, said we should ask the thoracic surgeon, asked about the kids, and high-tailed it out of the room. Not terribly reassuring, but was it alarming?


And then the fear and angst I'd folded up and neatly packed away for the past 8 years spilled out like an overflowing pile of dirty laundry. I'm not gonna lie, there were some tears.


But the feelings police got to work. What are reasonable feelings to have? Am I overreacting? I don't even have a diagnosis yet, for Christ's sake. Is it reasonable for me to be kinda terrified all over again, like last time? Does it even matter if it's reasonable or not?


Am I allowed to be un-stoic and unreasonable?


I don't think I played the part of cancer hero very well last time. I acted out sometimes and other times I checked out.


I did do well at being recovered cancer antihero though. My experience became a distant chapter in my story. Often I would think, "that really wasn't that bad." (Though clearly parts of it were BAD.) But it was a brief chapter and my lazy long-term memory served me well. And SO MANY had it SO MUCH worse. I was/am the lucky one. Even among fellow patients who are also doing well.


I didn't get anxious before follow-ups. Why should I? I had clean scans for 7 years!


Did I take things for granted after my recovery? Did I fail to learn the lessons? Sometimes I think, with my twisted history of having one thing after another crop up, without any prolonged "illness",  that something is stalking me, trying in earnest to teach me a lesson. Something is trying to make me appreciate life more, or relish life more, or change my life. Am I missing the memo? Over and over and over?


Could this just be a brief, less scary, less painful memo? And can it sink in with me this time? I hope so.


Or is the memo just life?


Still don't know. But I'm going to allow myself to feel the feelings. Fear, terror, regret, sadness, despondency, guilt. They're influenced by my history, so in some ways they're more intense and on the surface. But I can feel them and it's OK.


To be continued.

Shauna

My cousin Shauna died very early this morning at 49 years old.  She was 10 years older than me and growing up she was everything I wanted to be, but wasn't. 

She was beautiful and delicate.  She was always kind to me.  She was artistically talented and she played the guitar.  She was smart. 

Once when I was about 15 or so and I was at my aunt, her mother's, house, my aunt showed me something Shauna had written for a project in high school.  It was an essay about her future goals and what she'd like to accomplish over the next several years.  As I read through the paper, I realized she'd accomplished everything she said she would in that paper by the time she was 25.  I'd never known anyone like that.  I'd never even known that was possible.

After doing well in college, she moved to New York and became a buyer for a department store (I think it was Bloomingdales?).  She got married to a nice and successful man.  She had a daughter.  She eventually transitioned to graphic design, utilizing her artistic talent.

I always looked up to her.  I was a junior bridesmaid in her wedding and I wore a flowered bridesmaid dress.  I don't remember much about that day but I remember that dress and that Shauna was a beautiful bride. 

On days like today, I feel like cancer, and maybe death more generally, is trying to ram the point into my thick skull that every single solitary moment has to be valued and cherished.  I know that is the world's oldest cliché.  Life's too short.  Yes, I know.  But do I really know?  Are Shauna and Kelly  and Wendy all reminders of that?  They certainly didn't live and die to send a message home to me. 

But is it, in part, a message to everyone?  A lesson that we need to keep re-learning over and over and over?  And what about the people closest to them?  How can they learn that lesson when they are so tangled up in grief?

I don't know.  I don't know.

1

Wow.  Took a while to blow the dust off this blog, but here it is.

I had to say that my darling little bumblebee is one.  I know it can be gross to gush about your own kids, but since there's likely no one left reading here, I'm going to indulge myself.

She has truly been a delight every day of the past year.  Even the hard times weren't all that hard.  The occasional waking.  Being vomited on.  It was almost entirely doable and all viewed through the lens of the last child experience.  I think ALL the time (probably to a slightly unhealthy degree) that I have to enjoy her babyhood NOW because it's going by so much faster this time.

But she's done a good job of holding up her end of the bargain at making it enjoyable. 

What I'm loving at this moment is...

When she toddles over to give my knees a big hug.  I just love that.

When she runs away when I'm trying to get her dressed and doesn't quite understand how the game of tag works so when I go after her,  she comes running back towards me, laughing.

When she waves, claps, (tries to) blow kisses and says "bye". 

When she dances, she bounces up and down and bobs her head side to side.  It just doesn't come much cuter.  This kid loves music!

Hugs around the neck.  Love, love, love!

She loves to get herself into as small a container as possible.  Small box, baking dish, what have you.

She often uses baby toys for their intended purpose.  This is new to me and it's really quite remarkable.

It's not hard to get a laugh out of this kid and she is a willing participant in whatever kind of silly activity is on tap.

Of course, she's not perfect....

She's still navigating her relationship with her sister and does not always appreciate big sister getting attention from Mom or sis catching a ride on the front of her stroller.  This got ugly when she kicked sis off the front of the stroller....

She's a crazy climber just like her sister, sigh.  Her favorite activity is to climb onto a tall chair and rock it back and forth while standing.

She's pretty attached to me at the moment, which is a mixed blessing and a first for me.  I confess that I enjoy being so loved and needed and I'm trying to survive being sooooo needed. 

She can be a tough little cookie.  She seems to be getting over the biting phase (though not derived from a malicious place, it was still quite scary!), she can growl or make an uproar when she doesn't get her way.  We'll see how this turns out. 

Boy though, this kid is loveable.  Enough so that she was voted (unofficially) the favorite baby at daycare by the older kids.  It's true!   Even from those whose pants she's pulled down and whom she may have bitten.  I can't argue with them.

My body, myself

Could there be a more self-absorbed title for this?  I think not.  But that is what this is all about: my body's evolution over the past few years. 

Two kids, one major surgery and 32 radiation sessions later, I feel like my body is starting to come back to me.  Oh, it's not the same as it was.  It never will be what it was circa '01-'02 when I was doing 3-4 short triathlons a year.  That was probably the peak of my fitness.  But, I'm getting back to a place where I feel a little more comfortable with myself, and that feels good.

As anyone who's had a kid past the age of 32 may know, your body doesn't quite bounce back like an elastic as it might at say, 22?  After my first, I was pretty overwhelmed with first-time parenthood and I recall eating a lot of chocolate covered cranberries or something from Trader Joes.  Eight months after giving birth I still had almost 20 extra pounds on, so I sucked it up and did Weight Watchers online.  I lost 10 and kinda stalled from there, but it was a start.

In fall of 2009, I found out about chordoma and my fitness was about the furthest thing from my mind.  I just wanted to literally make it out alive.  I did lose some weight when I found out.  I never stopped eating, but I think stress can burn fat like nobody's business.  I remember when my first round of radiation was almost done though, I was grousing about getting weighed by the nurse and saying, which I almost always do, that I weigh less on my home scale, and she said that I should eat a lot over the holidays and not worry about my weight.  I needed to be healthy while I was doing radiation.  I kinda relished that.

I never quite got back up on the fitness wagon before I got pregnant again in early '11.  But that was OK. 

Now that I've been post-partum for a while, I've started getting back in the saddle.  I have been trying to walk during my lunch hours.  I've been trying to eat a little bit better.  I've been trying to get to yoga once a week.  It's helping, but even better than that, the process feels good.

I feel like I'm reclaiming my body after it kinda felt kidnapped from me for a good five years or so.  Oh sure, it's not what it was.  Gravity has taken it's toll even after what little nursing I did do.  If I suck in my stomach, it's a bit, um, wrinkly.  And I guess there is some aesthetic purpose to a tailbone, even if it is just an evolutionary remnant, because my butt is just flat now.  It didn't used to be that way.  Oh, and there's that fairly large scar up my back.

Do I care about all this?  Not really.  My body is in working order.  It does what I tell it to do most of the time and these days the majority of my pants fit.   In that sense, it's perfect. and once again, I'm grateful.

4

OK, it's not really 4. It's more like 4 and a quarter. I am nearly 3 months overdue in writing my missive on you being 4. But, so be it.

Moving from age 3 to age 4 is a major shift, I think. I remember seeing you sitting on our stairs one day when you were 3 and you were this cute little toddler/preschooler. Now, there is definitively no toddler left. You're a full-blown girl! Here's what's going on now:

You listen to and understand most adult conversation. It's becoming increasingly difficult to talk about you (or anyone else for that matter) around you. You know what's going down and you're pretty happy to interject your opinion/commentary.

Your silliness is at optimal levels these days. Pulling one over on Mom and Dad (or at least thinking that you are) is just about the funniest thing going. The day you walked into our room when we were asleep, quietly got in front of Dad's face and yelled "Surprise!" was a pretty good one, I gotta hand it to you.

You are still unabashedly in love with your sister. She is your favorite person on the planet by far and the more she develops and interacts, the more exciting it is for you.

You are still very opinionated about fashion and not very accomodating about letting me brush your hair. You have gotten much more at ease at the dentist though. This last visit was a piece of cake.

You are still not very daring about trying new foods, but once in a while, you'll have a bite.

You are getting slighty better about saying hello to people when they address you. For some reason you will wave or say hello to anyway when you are riding your bike. I'm not sure why this is.

You love to sing and are pretty good at memorizing lyrics. I'm fairly sure you'd like to be a rock star.

Last night you told me that if monkeys want to eat people, we could put bananas into space and the monkeys would be distracted and eat those and not people. You also told me that you're probably the smartest person in the world and probably don't even need teachers. Hmmmm.

I try to learn from you all the time. I learn about kindness. I learn about patience (patience! from a 4 year old!) I try to learn that sometimes you just have to stop for a minute and have fun and not just hasten to finish the task at hand. Because what is the point if you're not having fun?

You love rainbows more than anyone I know, to the point of obsession. There are worse things to obsess over.

I love you and I'm grateful for you every day.

A Few of My Favorite Things

bMy latest obsessive thought has been, "It's going so fast." Maybe it's because this is my last baby. Probably it's because I have been getting an unusual amount of sleep for someone with a young baby. Maybe it's because she's growing out of clothes faster than I can dig them out.

A couple of months ago I was with the baby in the supermarket and the baby was fussing a little in the checkout line. A woman in the next line over looked at me and the expression on her face just struck me. It was empathetic and nostalgic at the same time. I could tell that a part of her wanted to be in my shoes and another part of her did not.

I feel like I'm not taking enough pictures and videos and I'm ashamed to admit that I haven't even cracked the baby book. But here's what I love right now::

The coo conversations. She just loves to "talk" with coos. And she does it conversation-style. It's really adorable.

When she falls asleep on my shoulder. Those occurences are less frequent now so I'm trying to savor them.

How peaceful she looks when she's sleeping

How completely entertained she is by big sis and vice versa.

How curious she is about who we all are and what the heck we're doing

How happy she is to see everyone in the morning.

The rolls of chub on her legs and her chubby cheeks.

The way she laughs when her belly is kissed or tickled.

Probably my favorite thing in the list above is how much these sisters adore each other. I am trying to soak that in as much as I can because I know I have a future filled with arguments, tattling, clothes stealing, door slamming. For now though, I love how much C loves her little sister. The novelty hasn't worn off yet. And it runs deep. C hates when M is upset. She cried when M got her shots at the pediatrician. She tries to cheer her up when she's fussy. She calls her "beautiful", "adorable", "best buddy'. She is completely thrilled at every new development M makes. It's really cool to see this relationship all their own unfold before our eyes. We can shape it to some degree, but for the most part, it's up to them to define.

Much to fast I tell you.

She's here!

It's true. There's a new member of our family who is a month old (at least when I'm writing this). And....she's great. She's like a little living doll. OK, so far.

Aside from my nursing issues (I thought about devoting a whole post to that, but I've already dedicated enough angst to it, so I think I am mostly angst-ed out...)this time around has been easier. I know anything can change at any moment with a newborn, but I am trying to enjoy this while it lasts.

After having a first child who had her issues (and colic?) as a newborn, having a newborn who is, thus far, more "mellow" makes me much more fully appreciate all the joys of newbornhood. They're sweet. They're snuggly. They rely on you for all their basic needs and they're content when you meet them and don't want much more. They go where you put them. This time, with my second and last child, I'm trying hard to enjoy every second of the good, bad and ugly because I know how quickly the time evaporates into thin air.

I want to put every snuggle into a jar and pull it out later when she's a teenager, but I can't do that. I love when she grabs my finger when I'm feeding her. I love when she gurgles and coos. I love when she looks around, utterly clueless about what on earth is going on around her. And I love when she just puts up with being overly loved by her big sister. The last time I had a newborn I was unsure, utterly exhausted, and trying hard to survive those first several weeks(I did, thank goodness). This time is different. Phew!

What I've learned from C is that every stage seems to get better, but you can never go back. So, here we go.

Easy

Before this pregnancy ends, which will be not long from now, I have to say that it's just been.....easy....and for that I am extremely grateful. Oh, don't get me wrong, there have been some of the usual complaints: the god-forsaken reflux, the fact that sometimes I just can't find a comfortable way to sit so I'm constantly changing position like one of those animatronic dolls at bad amusement parks (put arm behind backrest, slump forward, lean to the side, repeat), and then there's the tightness of my stomach, which feels like you could pop it with a pin sometimes.

Yeah, those things aside, it's been good. I'm of "advanced maternal age" but all of my tests results have been great. My blood pressure is still low for now. My doctor visits are downright fun. I look forward to them. I haven't felt that way in a long time.


In short, (and I know I have four weeks left but...) best pregnancy ever! Maybe if I wasn't so aged-impaired I could have made extra cash as a surrogate. Would I still get maternity leave if I wasn't taking care of a screaming infant all night? That doesn't sound too bad really.

It bears repeating that I'm grateful.

Last week, C's new preschool sent a message out about one of the preschooler's moms, who has rectal cancer. She had surgery and treatment last year while taking care of an infant and a three year old. I read some of her blog, (you should too, btw) which was humbling for two reasons. For one, it's so eloquently written and rich with metaphor, yet completely buck-naked honest and grounded in reality, that it made me a little sheepish about the failings of my own little blog. But what can I say, I gotta own it, even for all that it's not. (And it seems she's a freelance writer, so I can't beat myself up too much.)

The second humbling thing is the unbelievable craziness she goes through and is willing to share. Let me say that it doesn't sound like a fun type of cancer (oh yeah, I suppose there isn't one). It did make me feel though that my experience with chordoma WAS fun in comparison. In part, that's because she genuinely has faced (and continues to face) bigger challenges than I did. But I think it's also because some of my ickier moments, both mentally and physically, have started fading to the back of my consciousness. Life is moving on.

She's in China now for two months, away from her family for all that time for an experimental treatment. Her surgery and treatment here last year didn't cover all the bases.

I sincerely hope that she has the same luxuries I have had; that today's experiences will fade to the background, that life will move on, and that some things will be easy again.

3.5 (and some change)

Wow. The baby is completely gone now. You are undeniably a little girl. Though, you still won't accept the "big girl" title (unless it's convenient). I guess you're not ready yet for that kind or responsibility. It's probably a wise move.

You're clever, creative, and funnier every day. And, frustratingly sometimes, you're almost always right about everything! A keen observer with an eye for detail, I guess. Didn't come from me.

More, um, challenging aspects of your personality lately include a penchant toward baby-talk (maybe you've decided to regress even before the new baby is born?) Also, there's the fact that I'm trying to grow out your bangs and you refuse to wear barrettes 99% of the time, which means you look less tidy than Shaggy Doo and it drives grandmothers and great grandmothers kuh-razy (which, luckily they complain about to me instead of to you). It is often challenging to get you to sleep-sleep before 9. You hate to be unintentionally wet (like your hair or a random body party) which can be really taxing, because what's the big deal? Your meltdowns are rare but when they happen, they can be doozies.

You still get the hiccups after a good laughing fit (I understand this might be a permanent condition, poor thing). I love that you love babies (and hopefully that will come in handy in October) and you get so much joy from them. Your imagination is really active and engaged now. You can have a dialogue amongst a whole family of rubber ducks and it's fun to watch. You are still an enthusiastic dancer and photo stylist. Exhibit A: the photo above.

I think you have great patience for a 3.5 year old and I'm sincerely grateful.

I love when you say "That's for sure!" and "Trust me." and "Frijoles"with a perfect Spanish accent.

As excited as I am to see you become a big sister, I am trying to soak up and enjoy these last few weeks as a mother of one and a mother of you. And I'm really glad that I've had as much time as I have had to appreciate only you.

The section

For this, my second time at the rodeo, I am more than likely having a C-section. I've pretty much known this was the way to go since before I got pregnant this time, but there's still some processing involved on my end.

For my last rodeo, I went all natural. It was one of, if not the, most amazing experiences of my life and I couldn't believe I had accomplished it. Everyone's childbirth is amazing no matter how it happens. For me, I dare say that it was so incredible that at the time I was so full of adrenaline that having this live baby as a result almost seemed like a bonus on top of it all. The pain was kinda like getting a tattoo. It hurts A LOT but as soon as you're done you want another one (probably for the better, almost 20 years later, I still just have the one tattoo.)

I need to document the whole birthstory fully before some of the more minor details evaporate out of my head. You can skip that post if birthstories are as thrilling to you as the world poker tour, but that brings me to my next point....


That experience made me fall in love with the whole process of childbirth. I won't lie, I've thought of becoming a doula. Sure, the hours would be odd, but you can get great parking spaces at odd hours. And supporting and observing someone in the process of childbirth just seems like fun to me.


Another reason the section is *something to process* is the lack of surprise. I like the idea of the baby coming out whenever he/she decides. For me, going into labor naturally didn't have the hysteria that it does on sitcoms, but it was exciting, in a fun way.

If I had ideal circumstances, I would probably have gone the birth center route this time around. My doctor and nurses at the hospital were very supportive, but I think it does make a difference to be in a place where a natural birth is more the norm than the rarity. While in labor I did kind of feel like the last polar bear at times.


Despite all this processing though, I'm totally at peace with a section. For one, there's no point risking injury to my sacrum if I don't have to. For two, there's no point in worrying about injuring my sacrum if I don't have to. For three, childbirth is the exception to the rule where the reward is in the journey. As everyone knows, with childbirth, the reward is the outcome, namely, the baby. I think a lot of us forget that sometimes, especially with first pregnancies. A lot of people (hello? me, for instance) get wrapped up in all things pregnancy and childbirth and then, poof, suddenly there is this baby you have to take care of and THAT'S a totally different experience.

So, while I might miss having the excitement and experience of my last childbirth, and from what I've heard, the C-section recovery is no Sunday brunch, I'm OK with it.


I'm grateful to have my stomach cut open.

Here's where I insert a smiley emoticon.

Cynical me

Well, I got a little grief for my last post. It was too new agey and full of "crap".

Maybe.

This wasn't quite the feedback I was expecting for that post, but hey, fair enough. (And don't worry, I got mostly great, positive feedback, but you blog readers are a shy bunch and are afraid to post comments on the blog itself, so you usually just email me directly.)

This blog thing is, admittedly, the most self-absorbed practice going, so it's only fair to take some lumps for it now and then.

Here's my take though: In case it hasn't come across in the posts of the past couple of years, I'm trying to shift some of my thinking to a more positive place.

Maybe it's because focusing on what might be negative outcomes in my life was not really working out for me and that's become more clear to me in the past couple of years.

Don't get me wrong, I love sarcasm and cynicism as much, no, probably more, than the next guy. I've thrived on it for most of my life. It's my sense of humor and it's a lot of who I am.

I will never forget standing at a friend's locker my freshman year in high school ranting about something and one of the smartest guys in school, overhearing our conversation, declared, "You're so cynical!" At the time I didn't know what that word meant and I wasn't sure if I should be offended or not, but I was pretty sure he was probably right.


So lately, I'm trying to balance being cynical me with focusing on more positives in my life. I don't really know how it's supposed to work, but maybe just keeping cynicism for humor and trying my best not to dwell on the negative too much. And most of all trying to be grateful. Trust me, it's not always easy.


But that last post was really just genuinely me. Feelings and thoughts that I had over the past few months, as I truly felt them. And I promised I would be honest with this blog, so there you go.


And really, haven't I served up my share negative "crap" on this blog as it is?