I am reading a book that is just fascinating me, and though I got it from the library I think I'm going to have to break down and buy it, because it's got so many ideas in it that I can't possibly process all of them at once.
The book is called "Simple Prosperity: Finding Real Wealth in a Sustainable Lifestyle" by David Wann (who is also the author of the book that spawned the PBS special called "Affluenza").
From the back book cover:
"In his bestseller Affluenza, David Wann and his coauthors diagnosed the debilitating disease of overconsumption. Now, in Simple Prosperity, he shows us how we can overome it to recapture a more abundant and sustainable lifestyle without sacrifiing everything we love."
The book is about living greener, living happier, living socially consciously. It is filled with statistics, too, but also practical ideas and advice about how to proceed.
If anyone else is interested, please get yourself a copy of this book (it is available at the library, after all....though one library copy is in my hands right now) and then let me know when you're done with it, because I'd love to talk about it with you. Anyone?
Love,
Kristina
PS We're in Portland, enjoying visiting with Mom & Dad S. and lovely weather, too. Off to adventures at Bob's Red Mill!
Showing posts with label too much. Show all posts
Showing posts with label too much. Show all posts
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Less is more
Yesterday we had too much of a good thing - I booked TOO many good activities.
The morning was nice and slow; I did some chores, Tessa hung out, I drank coffee. Nice. But then the afternoon got crazy.
Tessa and I showed up at Alki early (11am) to pick up Zoe from preschool, and the two of us walked around and viewed the cafeteria, the classrooms, the halls, the gym, etc. (We couldn't go to the library because the WASL was taking place.) Tessa was excited to see "her" school, and to dream of next year's adventures. Then, we picked up sweet Zoe, came home in the car, and walked to the bus stop. We caught the 54 to Seattle, and met Ryan at his office, and the two girls were in fabulous moods and oh-so-sweet and I think Ryan enjoyed showing them off. Next, walking together to the Seattle Art Museum, where we had lunch. The four of us had a nice lunch, and then Ryan headed back to his office and Tessa, Zoe and I headed to the Romans exhibit. (This is one instance where advertising DIDN'T drive me crazy: Tessa kept hearing the exhibit ads on the radio, and she wanted to go, and I was happy to oblige.) Since we have passes to the museum, it wasn't difficult to commit to this. We spent time walking around looking at the Roman art, learning about Roman people, looking at their clothes, mosaics, statues, jewelry, dishware, fountains, and other beautiful objects. The girls asked great questions, and learned a ton - I was so proud of them.
This is where it should have been perfect, but I kept cramming stuff in. I looked at my watch and said, "HURRY! We have to get back!" and the girls and I went back to the bus stop, rushed home to West Seattle, and dropped Zoe off amidst protests that they wanted to play now. Then I rushed with Tessa to Abby's house so Abby & I could chat about the environment, lifestyles, etc. and the kids could play (Gabe is Tessa's age, and they played together really well). An hour and a half later, the kids were having fun, Abby and I were having fabulous conversations...but RUSH! Gotta go!
Home. Scramble to make dinner for the family (a shrimp and broccoli dish from Cooking Light). Ryan came in. Smooch - here's the rest of the dinner instructions (I prepped but he had to stirfry) - and I'm out the door to take the bus to Elliot Bay Book Store to meet Erik.
Erik and I had a great talk about being a stay at home parent, consumerism, and all kinds of stuff. Fabulous.
And I got home at ten, exhausted.
What I need to learn to do is to do all of these things, but spread out over more days. I wouldn't drop a single item on this list, but it would have been mcuh better to break it up and spend more relaxed time on each item, rather than looking at my watch and running half the day.
I am convinced that less is more. I'm convinced that multi-tasking is ruinous. I am convinced that I can not be as compassionate if I'm overbooked.
I want Tessa's childhood to be filled will free time to think, dream, draw, read, run, scamper, play. Not to hear "hurry up!" quite so much.
Okay, so I'm working on it. It was a great day, adn the old me would have thought that a day like that was a day fully lived, but the new me thinks that slowing down would be a better idea.
Learning.
The morning was nice and slow; I did some chores, Tessa hung out, I drank coffee. Nice. But then the afternoon got crazy.
Tessa and I showed up at Alki early (11am) to pick up Zoe from preschool, and the two of us walked around and viewed the cafeteria, the classrooms, the halls, the gym, etc. (We couldn't go to the library because the WASL was taking place.) Tessa was excited to see "her" school, and to dream of next year's adventures. Then, we picked up sweet Zoe, came home in the car, and walked to the bus stop. We caught the 54 to Seattle, and met Ryan at his office, and the two girls were in fabulous moods and oh-so-sweet and I think Ryan enjoyed showing them off. Next, walking together to the Seattle Art Museum, where we had lunch. The four of us had a nice lunch, and then Ryan headed back to his office and Tessa, Zoe and I headed to the Romans exhibit. (This is one instance where advertising DIDN'T drive me crazy: Tessa kept hearing the exhibit ads on the radio, and she wanted to go, and I was happy to oblige.) Since we have passes to the museum, it wasn't difficult to commit to this. We spent time walking around looking at the Roman art, learning about Roman people, looking at their clothes, mosaics, statues, jewelry, dishware, fountains, and other beautiful objects. The girls asked great questions, and learned a ton - I was so proud of them.
This is where it should have been perfect, but I kept cramming stuff in. I looked at my watch and said, "HURRY! We have to get back!" and the girls and I went back to the bus stop, rushed home to West Seattle, and dropped Zoe off amidst protests that they wanted to play now. Then I rushed with Tessa to Abby's house so Abby & I could chat about the environment, lifestyles, etc. and the kids could play (Gabe is Tessa's age, and they played together really well). An hour and a half later, the kids were having fun, Abby and I were having fabulous conversations...but RUSH! Gotta go!
Home. Scramble to make dinner for the family (a shrimp and broccoli dish from Cooking Light). Ryan came in. Smooch - here's the rest of the dinner instructions (I prepped but he had to stirfry) - and I'm out the door to take the bus to Elliot Bay Book Store to meet Erik.
Erik and I had a great talk about being a stay at home parent, consumerism, and all kinds of stuff. Fabulous.
And I got home at ten, exhausted.
What I need to learn to do is to do all of these things, but spread out over more days. I wouldn't drop a single item on this list, but it would have been mcuh better to break it up and spend more relaxed time on each item, rather than looking at my watch and running half the day.
I am convinced that less is more. I'm convinced that multi-tasking is ruinous. I am convinced that I can not be as compassionate if I'm overbooked.
I want Tessa's childhood to be filled will free time to think, dream, draw, read, run, scamper, play. Not to hear "hurry up!" quite so much.
Okay, so I'm working on it. It was a great day, adn the old me would have thought that a day like that was a day fully lived, but the new me thinks that slowing down would be a better idea.
Learning.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Update from the PS
Today I visited Dr. Isik.
He said I'm healing beautifully. He said that my implant is not moving; the bottom of the implant is remaining in place, but there is a seratoma (code name for "excess fluid" which is harmless and will be reabsorbed by my body) at the top of my left (treated) breast which is making it appear misshapen, but is not a long term problem.
I just need to be patient. Oh, how I hate being patient.
I am allowed to swim with Tessa (no more concern about infection). I am allowed to walk, use an elliptical without my arms, or sit on a stationary bike. No jiggling, no jumping, no jogging. No lifting any kind of weights. I am now allowed to lift my arms past my shoulders, and expected to get physical therapy again to regain range of motion (helllllo, Adrienne....).
Three more weeks, and I can jog.
But the fatigue? No answers. I shouldn't be feeling it like I am. I'm wayyyy behind schedule. I should have felt better a week ago.
Sigh.
Finally, it all catches up with me.
Of course, I can't help but wonder "is it mets?" because that would be just par for the course. (Bad attitude. I know. I can't help it. And you'd wonder too, if it was you.) I try to suppress these thoughts, but they rise. Maybe it's all falling apart.
Or maybe I'm just tired. It's all so wearing.
The next surgery is supposed to be about half the healing time of this one, although still six weeks with no exercise or jiggling.
Tonight Tessa is going bowling with Ryan, Anna, and Artie. I will curl up in bed. I look forward to the day when I can stay home because I'm DOING something and not because I can't get out of bed...
He said I'm healing beautifully. He said that my implant is not moving; the bottom of the implant is remaining in place, but there is a seratoma (code name for "excess fluid" which is harmless and will be reabsorbed by my body) at the top of my left (treated) breast which is making it appear misshapen, but is not a long term problem.
I just need to be patient. Oh, how I hate being patient.
I am allowed to swim with Tessa (no more concern about infection). I am allowed to walk, use an elliptical without my arms, or sit on a stationary bike. No jiggling, no jumping, no jogging. No lifting any kind of weights. I am now allowed to lift my arms past my shoulders, and expected to get physical therapy again to regain range of motion (helllllo, Adrienne....).
Three more weeks, and I can jog.
But the fatigue? No answers. I shouldn't be feeling it like I am. I'm wayyyy behind schedule. I should have felt better a week ago.
Sigh.
Finally, it all catches up with me.
Of course, I can't help but wonder "is it mets?" because that would be just par for the course. (Bad attitude. I know. I can't help it. And you'd wonder too, if it was you.) I try to suppress these thoughts, but they rise. Maybe it's all falling apart.
Or maybe I'm just tired. It's all so wearing.
The next surgery is supposed to be about half the healing time of this one, although still six weeks with no exercise or jiggling.
Tonight Tessa is going bowling with Ryan, Anna, and Artie. I will curl up in bed. I look forward to the day when I can stay home because I'm DOING something and not because I can't get out of bed...
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Every day a bit longer
I am able to make it longer each day. Today I've made it this far - amazing.
A good day.
Except.
One of the girls on the YSC died today.
Another one gone.
Another motherless child (a girl about Tessa's age).
I need the support of women who have been in my shoes, but it's sad and lonely when those women are dying. Of course, more are living than dying, but three deaths in two (?) weeks is enough to make anyone ill.
It's not fair. I don't understand it.
A good day.
Except.
One of the girls on the YSC died today.
Another one gone.
Another motherless child (a girl about Tessa's age).
I need the support of women who have been in my shoes, but it's sad and lonely when those women are dying. Of course, more are living than dying, but three deaths in two (?) weeks is enough to make anyone ill.
It's not fair. I don't understand it.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
R.I.P. Mama Cathy
My friend from YSC has passed away. She leaves behind a husband, a son, and many people who loved her in "real" life. She also touched the lives of many strangers on YSC, and I am one of them.
Today I feel a small amount of relief that her suffering is over. I was halfway hoping that she was gone - released from pain, releasing her family from the constant vigil with only one possible outcome - when I checked my email.
But the relief is small compared to the other emotions.
I'd like to copy and paste the message that gave Cathy her nickname here. This was posted June 2006, when "the boards" were going through a tough time like the one that is happening right now, with mets diagnoses and deaths, before Cathy was a mets girl, before she knew she would join the ranks of those who passed before her.
Cathy, you will be missed. Deeply.
My prayers go out for Cathy's loved ones, in particular her husband and son.
-----------------
It's happening again.Every once in a while the board goes through a really tough time. Our hearts break for our sisters whose cancers are spreading at frightening rates. We see their selfless, innocent posts that detail the cancer taking over. How they feel, what they're thinking. What they need. The struggle, the powelessness, the strength and courage.I just wanted to pull all you newbies in close and let you know that we've all been there and you are probably absolutely freaking out right now. Chemo has beaten you up, you feel like a shadow of who you used to be. Tired, depressed and overwhlemed. You may even feel guilty because you are not only sad for these beautiful women, but you are sad FOR YOU. You see yourself in every one of these women that becomes so very sick and then loses the battle.It's normal to feel this way and it's OK. We understand and so do they. Your mother may not, your husband may not. your friends may not, but we do.And there's nothing wrong with feeling sad and getting angry. But please remember that the odds are that YOU are going to get better. YOU are going to get your hair back and start to feel well again. YOU are going to get back to the life that you want to lead.So if you are checking the boards incessently right now, reading the latest post, then sobbing and then going back for more.....been there too. You are grieving....this disease is not fair....it's disgusting and ugly and perverse. And it's so much more unfair to certain sisters than others. And there's nothing fair about that.So grieve for them. Grieve for you. And then remember that you will get better.Love,cathy
Today I feel a small amount of relief that her suffering is over. I was halfway hoping that she was gone - released from pain, releasing her family from the constant vigil with only one possible outcome - when I checked my email.
But the relief is small compared to the other emotions.
I'd like to copy and paste the message that gave Cathy her nickname here. This was posted June 2006, when "the boards" were going through a tough time like the one that is happening right now, with mets diagnoses and deaths, before Cathy was a mets girl, before she knew she would join the ranks of those who passed before her.
Cathy, you will be missed. Deeply.
My prayers go out for Cathy's loved ones, in particular her husband and son.
-----------------
It's happening again.Every once in a while the board goes through a really tough time. Our hearts break for our sisters whose cancers are spreading at frightening rates. We see their selfless, innocent posts that detail the cancer taking over. How they feel, what they're thinking. What they need. The struggle, the powelessness, the strength and courage.I just wanted to pull all you newbies in close and let you know that we've all been there and you are probably absolutely freaking out right now. Chemo has beaten you up, you feel like a shadow of who you used to be. Tired, depressed and overwhlemed. You may even feel guilty because you are not only sad for these beautiful women, but you are sad FOR YOU. You see yourself in every one of these women that becomes so very sick and then loses the battle.It's normal to feel this way and it's OK. We understand and so do they. Your mother may not, your husband may not. your friends may not, but we do.And there's nothing wrong with feeling sad and getting angry. But please remember that the odds are that YOU are going to get better. YOU are going to get your hair back and start to feel well again. YOU are going to get back to the life that you want to lead.So if you are checking the boards incessently right now, reading the latest post, then sobbing and then going back for more.....been there too. You are grieving....this disease is not fair....it's disgusting and ugly and perverse. And it's so much more unfair to certain sisters than others. And there's nothing fair about that.So grieve for them. Grieve for you. And then remember that you will get better.Love,cathy
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Bad Juju
What the heck is going on at our house? Really, I feel way past my limits.
I have felt lousy for a couple of weeks. My throat is still sore, I'm still phlegmy, etc.
Tessa has had a cough for two weeks. Yesterday she had a great time at preschool and her teachers said she was doing fine, but in the evening she fell asleep while Zoe was over and didn't even want dessert - home made cobbler with Husky Deli vanilla ice cream. (This is NOT normal.) Last night she woke up in the middle of the night and said, "My head hurts" and "my bones ache" for several hours.
This was not the rest I required after my miserable day yesterday. Ryan and I took shifts, but it was a loooooong night.
This morning, we've canceled our plans (my parents were going to care for Tessa tonight while Ryan and I went to a discussion/dinner at 'Chele & Dave's; the whole family was going to go to Caleb's egg hunt) and we're settling in for a quiet day. Ryan prepared 'a nest' for Tessa on the courch downstairs, and carried her downstairs to rest in front of the TV, propped up with pillows and blankets and coziness. But Ryan missed the bottom step (or two), and landed on his bad ankle, and found himself lying on the floor in agony. (Tessa was fine, he didn't drop her.) He's icing his ankle now and took two ibuprofen.
What the ****? ENOUGH! C'mon! What's next, locusts and floods? I'm TIRED! I need a break!!!!!!! I have enough on my plate. Enough, I tell you! This is getting ridiculous!
Vent over. Thanks for listening.
I read the affirmation from Daily Word today, and it was lovely. We had a family snuggle in bed this morning. Ryan brought me coffee in bed (before his ankle incident). Tessa is content to watch old Clifford episodes and snuggle her stuffed animals on the couch. I know it could be worse. I know, I know, I know. Lots to be grateful for.
But still.....
I have felt lousy for a couple of weeks. My throat is still sore, I'm still phlegmy, etc.
Tessa has had a cough for two weeks. Yesterday she had a great time at preschool and her teachers said she was doing fine, but in the evening she fell asleep while Zoe was over and didn't even want dessert - home made cobbler with Husky Deli vanilla ice cream. (This is NOT normal.) Last night she woke up in the middle of the night and said, "My head hurts" and "my bones ache" for several hours.
This was not the rest I required after my miserable day yesterday. Ryan and I took shifts, but it was a loooooong night.
This morning, we've canceled our plans (my parents were going to care for Tessa tonight while Ryan and I went to a discussion/dinner at 'Chele & Dave's; the whole family was going to go to Caleb's egg hunt) and we're settling in for a quiet day. Ryan prepared 'a nest' for Tessa on the courch downstairs, and carried her downstairs to rest in front of the TV, propped up with pillows and blankets and coziness. But Ryan missed the bottom step (or two), and landed on his bad ankle, and found himself lying on the floor in agony. (Tessa was fine, he didn't drop her.) He's icing his ankle now and took two ibuprofen.
What the ****? ENOUGH! C'mon! What's next, locusts and floods? I'm TIRED! I need a break!!!!!!! I have enough on my plate. Enough, I tell you! This is getting ridiculous!
Vent over. Thanks for listening.
I read the affirmation from Daily Word today, and it was lovely. We had a family snuggle in bed this morning. Ryan brought me coffee in bed (before his ankle incident). Tessa is content to watch old Clifford episodes and snuggle her stuffed animals on the couch. I know it could be worse. I know, I know, I know. Lots to be grateful for.
But still.....
Friday, March 14, 2008
Is 10 my lucky number?
I'll never be a perfect 10 (ha). But 10 might be my lucky number.
I'm just back from the new plastic surgeon's office. Dr. Isac at the PolyClinic was very professional, highly recommended, and spoke kindly and rationally to me.
Surgery number 9 is scheduled for May 14. He will be removing my implants, disconnecting a muscle, tweaking, and placing a different kind of tissue expander on both sides.
Surgery number 10 is scheduled for October some time (date TBD), to remove the tissue expanders and place "permanent" implants.
It makes me feel like throwing up - literally - to be planning TWO more surgeries. Just when I think I've made progress, just when I think I can handle one more surgery, I'm being asked to have TWO.
Lately, it seems like whatever I'm willing and able to give, I'm asked to give double. This is sometimes more than I think that I can bear. But of course I can bear it, because I must. I don't see myself as having a lot of choice in the matter.
Now, I can hear the counter argument, "Of course you have a choice! These surgeries are elective! Stop while you're ahead! In clothes it's not noticable! It's not like you're a swimsuit model!"
I know. I know, I know, I know. But here's the thing. From the very beginning, I told Tessa, "It's okay, honey. One day the doctors will build me a new nipple." I have clung to that idea, and so has she. I have built it up to be a symbol of my healing. No nipples? Not done. It's simplistic, maybe even childish, but while I see my chest as deformed as it is, I see myself as a cancer patient. I feel like I need to do this to get it behind me.
I'm just back from the new plastic surgeon's office. Dr. Isac at the PolyClinic was very professional, highly recommended, and spoke kindly and rationally to me.
Surgery number 9 is scheduled for May 14. He will be removing my implants, disconnecting a muscle, tweaking, and placing a different kind of tissue expander on both sides.
Surgery number 10 is scheduled for October some time (date TBD), to remove the tissue expanders and place "permanent" implants.
It makes me feel like throwing up - literally - to be planning TWO more surgeries. Just when I think I've made progress, just when I think I can handle one more surgery, I'm being asked to have TWO.
Lately, it seems like whatever I'm willing and able to give, I'm asked to give double. This is sometimes more than I think that I can bear. But of course I can bear it, because I must. I don't see myself as having a lot of choice in the matter.
Now, I can hear the counter argument, "Of course you have a choice! These surgeries are elective! Stop while you're ahead! In clothes it's not noticable! It's not like you're a swimsuit model!"
I know. I know, I know, I know. But here's the thing. From the very beginning, I told Tessa, "It's okay, honey. One day the doctors will build me a new nipple." I have clung to that idea, and so has she. I have built it up to be a symbol of my healing. No nipples? Not done. It's simplistic, maybe even childish, but while I see my chest as deformed as it is, I see myself as a cancer patient. I feel like I need to do this to get it behind me.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Cancerland
Tomorrow I'm walking back into Cancerland by choice.
I am meeting with a new plastic surgeon to discuss my options for corrections. By my own standards, my current reconstruction status is a mess, and I hate it.
There. I hate it. I said it. When I look at it, I'm reminded of the events of last October, and the emotional fallout of that experience.
So tomorrow I'm going to consult with another PS to discuss what is and is not correctable. If corrections are possible, I would like to proceed in the spring to get it over with.
I have a lump on my eyelid along the incision and it itches like mad (and has since surgery in October). My right, prophylactic side, has scars that I can't explain and they're jagged and rough. My areola on that side looks like a wound, and it's in pieces. The nipple is non-existant. There's a weird divet in the middle of it all, and some pitting in the skin.
My left side aerola looks more normal/as I expected, but the nipple area is actually lower than the rest of the breast. There's a weird puffiness on one side of the breast. And worst of all, that breast is shaped like half of a canteloupe, and it's significantly bigger than the other breast. (Do NOT chime in here that all women's breasts have some assymetry. I know that. I am not talking about norms here, I'm talking about something beyond that.)
Because I told myself that getting this work done would be a symbol of my ability to move on....I feel like I'm bogged down by the symbol. When I see my breasts, I hate them. I don't want to hate my own body. I don't want to see betrayal, torture, pain, ugliness when I look at my chest. I don't expect beauty, but I don't want to feel so....deformed. Artificial.
I don't know if it's correctable. I don't know what the PS will say. But I'm going to try this again.
And it makes my stomach hurt. It makes me want to cry. I hate surgery. This will be number 9 in three years....averaging once every four months for 3 years. I assume it's "minor" surgery.
But I hate it.
Please pray that I don't have a total meltdown as a result of this experience. I brought out my massive medical binder to show my reports, implant sizes, etc. to the new surgeon, and just the sight of that hot pink blender has my stomach in knots. There are a lot of awful memories in that binder.
I just want to put this - all of it - behind me. And I have work to do before I can do that.
I am meeting with a new plastic surgeon to discuss my options for corrections. By my own standards, my current reconstruction status is a mess, and I hate it.
There. I hate it. I said it. When I look at it, I'm reminded of the events of last October, and the emotional fallout of that experience.
So tomorrow I'm going to consult with another PS to discuss what is and is not correctable. If corrections are possible, I would like to proceed in the spring to get it over with.
I have a lump on my eyelid along the incision and it itches like mad (and has since surgery in October). My right, prophylactic side, has scars that I can't explain and they're jagged and rough. My areola on that side looks like a wound, and it's in pieces. The nipple is non-existant. There's a weird divet in the middle of it all, and some pitting in the skin.
My left side aerola looks more normal/as I expected, but the nipple area is actually lower than the rest of the breast. There's a weird puffiness on one side of the breast. And worst of all, that breast is shaped like half of a canteloupe, and it's significantly bigger than the other breast. (Do NOT chime in here that all women's breasts have some assymetry. I know that. I am not talking about norms here, I'm talking about something beyond that.)
Because I told myself that getting this work done would be a symbol of my ability to move on....I feel like I'm bogged down by the symbol. When I see my breasts, I hate them. I don't want to hate my own body. I don't want to see betrayal, torture, pain, ugliness when I look at my chest. I don't expect beauty, but I don't want to feel so....deformed. Artificial.
I don't know if it's correctable. I don't know what the PS will say. But I'm going to try this again.
And it makes my stomach hurt. It makes me want to cry. I hate surgery. This will be number 9 in three years....averaging once every four months for 3 years. I assume it's "minor" surgery.
But I hate it.
Please pray that I don't have a total meltdown as a result of this experience. I brought out my massive medical binder to show my reports, implant sizes, etc. to the new surgeon, and just the sight of that hot pink blender has my stomach in knots. There are a lot of awful memories in that binder.
I just want to put this - all of it - behind me. And I have work to do before I can do that.
Granny's beans
I made them again. Remembered everything....and this time, it worked.
Delicious. Tessa and I love them, and I can't wait for dinner time.
Struggling today for Mama Cathy. I re-read the post updating about her. It says "days, maybe weeks." Days? No! No no no no no no noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
I will never understand this damned disease. It's no wonder I can't get my feet under me half the time, knowing how it lurks, waiting to trip women.
I also sent in my photos (myself during treatment, the 3-Day) for the KOMO4 interview on Monday. Looking at them reminded me of some really, really tough times.
Delicious. Tessa and I love them, and I can't wait for dinner time.
Struggling today for Mama Cathy. I re-read the post updating about her. It says "days, maybe weeks." Days? No! No no no no no no noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
I will never understand this damned disease. It's no wonder I can't get my feet under me half the time, knowing how it lurks, waiting to trip women.
I also sent in my photos (myself during treatment, the 3-Day) for the KOMO4 interview on Monday. Looking at them reminded me of some really, really tough times.
Heartbreak
This morning I logged on to the cancer boards at YSC, and was hit twice.
"Mama Cathy" (so named because of her mothering of "us girls" and her nurturing spirit) is moving to hospice. The doctors believe that her time is not long, maybe weeks.
I'm not able to articulate clearly how sad this makes me feel. Cathy was diagnosed early stage, then diagnosed with mets, and now this.
And another woman, who has posted great drama in her personal life and jokingly calls herself the Lindsay Lohan of the YSC but has a heart of gold and reaches out to every newbie and gives hope and encouragement to many, is awaiting to hear if her elevated liver enzymes etc. are mets. She's experiencing full post traumatic stress disorder and isn't even able to post on the boards right now, but we girls are freaking out on her behalf because if there was good news we think she'd be posting. So much speculation, so much fear.
In my garden, the irises are starting to grow. Melinda, who died last year, loved irises, and everyone who was touched by her planted irises in her memory.
These are some of my favorite cancer girls. Please pray for them. And please pray that I will find peace somewhere in all this, remembering that they are not me, and that their fate may not be my own.
"Mama Cathy" (so named because of her mothering of "us girls" and her nurturing spirit) is moving to hospice. The doctors believe that her time is not long, maybe weeks.
I'm not able to articulate clearly how sad this makes me feel. Cathy was diagnosed early stage, then diagnosed with mets, and now this.
And another woman, who has posted great drama in her personal life and jokingly calls herself the Lindsay Lohan of the YSC but has a heart of gold and reaches out to every newbie and gives hope and encouragement to many, is awaiting to hear if her elevated liver enzymes etc. are mets. She's experiencing full post traumatic stress disorder and isn't even able to post on the boards right now, but we girls are freaking out on her behalf because if there was good news we think she'd be posting. So much speculation, so much fear.
In my garden, the irises are starting to grow. Melinda, who died last year, loved irises, and everyone who was touched by her planted irises in her memory.
These are some of my favorite cancer girls. Please pray for them. And please pray that I will find peace somewhere in all this, remembering that they are not me, and that their fate may not be my own.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
