Nesting

My dear friend Jenny moved last weekend, and I've been trying to help her with her new home. I find it strangely satisfying to empty a box, finding homes for all of its contents, and then step back and admire the organization of a drawer or cupboard or shelf. Yes, I'm aware that this may sound strange, but I'm not fighting it, I'm going with it.

I've been doing some nesting of my own, as well. Moving things here or there, getting rid of things, trying to catch up on chores. I'm dreaming of doing some painting again (the kitchenette, stairwell, trimwork). I am constantly reworking the office in my mind - it's usually a disaster and I'd like to fix that.

I'm also thinking of my emotional/physical/spiritual self. I'm trying to spend my time more wisely, to work out more, to be more patient, to keep my relationships in good shape. I'm looking at regularly attending the WSUU church we discovered last spring, at having a family date night each week (put the chores aside and play together!), and at quality time with Ryan.

I love fall, which always brings these thoughts to mind. The teacher and student in me finds fall to be the true beginning of the year, and these wet days remind me that it's approaching. Time for school shoes, digging out the sweaters, and nesting.

Love,
Kristina

Banning the exclamation mark

I use them too often! Not everything should read like "Surprise!" I'm banning them! Especially when used together!!!

Seriously, I've let my writing fall to pieces, and since I'm not currently immersed in cancer battles of the mind-numbing variety (mine are more tedious or irritating than mind-numbing these days), it's time to pretend that I have some craft left in me.

The exclamation mark must go. Along with it, all kinds of other nasty habits, including rambling sentences that get lost and end up in an elipsis... And overuse of dashes, and unintended word repetition, and such.

But the exclamation mark is first. Gone! (Kidding. I saw that there. I used it again!!)

It's raining, it's pouring...

...and Tessa is delighted!

We had a great weekend with family in Anacortes, and send our love and thanks to Mom & Dad for hosting us in the motorhome. Walks, playing on the beach, too much good food, and lots of laughter. Good times!

We also spent a little time in the outlet mall, since it's so enormous and close by to where we were. Ryan got a bunch of new clothes for his sleek self (I'm so proud of Ryan's weight loss - he's looking great and getting hotter every day!), and Tessa got some new items for her fall wardrobe. (Wouldn't it be nice to get an all new wardrobe every six months, like children do?! She's growing so much that her favorite hot pink shirt with a pony on it shows her belly button now...oops.) I got a couple of needed items, too, but I don't need nearly as much as those two - Tessa's growing up, Ryan's slimming down, and I am (contentedly) staying the same size.

Anyway, the reason that Tessa is so glad that it's pouring outside is that she got a new umbrella, one that looks like a dog, with ears that pop up. She's practically dancing this morning that she'll get to wear her puddle boots (which still fit from last year), raincoat, and, bliss of bliss, use her new umbrella.

The timing could be slightly better from my perspective, as today is the last day of soccer class and we won't miss it (it's rain or shine). It's also parent participation day, so you may picture me on the wet soccer field, running around in the mud, water streaming down my face. Ah, the joys. Actually, it IS a joy to play with Tessa and to have her so excited to play with me...but the weather that so delights her today is a bit less exciting to me. Oh well, time to join in the mood....I'll play soccer in my Gore-Tex light hiking boots, and maybe my feet will stay dry. Plus, I'm pretty sure that afterwards there should be a hot cocoa in it for somebody. :-)

Speaking of soccer, we watched "Bend it Like Beckham" with Tessa. Some of the language is questionable, but as it has a British slant (Tessa didn't even blink when they used the word "shag") we could get away with a bit more. Anyway, Tessa LOVED it. Girls playing soccer - hurrah!

radio interview

I just finished another radio interview with Kate Daniels from WARM 106.9, discussing the breast cancer cause and the 3-Day. I'll know more later, but she is going to play the interview on multiple radio stations this weekend. Stay tuned!

Jam pictures

Three generation jam

Today, my wish came true. Well, one of MANY wishes!

Today, Tessa, Grandma Mary (Ryan's mom) and I made freezer jam together. This started by having a big breakfast....well, okay, that wasn't part of making jam but it fueled the jam-makers!

It started by going to 47th between Brandon & Findlay, where the best blackberries around are to be found. We showed up prepared, thanks to Dad's (Bopa's) advice: wear long sleeves, gloves, and bring pruners! Each of us carried one of Tessa's sand-buckets (thoroughly washed, of course), and we were off.

As we picked the berries - at their prime, luscious and sweet, filled with juice - I found myself smiling. Grandma helped Tessa for a while, and I was in my own little blackberry world. I started thinking about Grandpa Goddard (MY grandpa, Tessa's great-grandpa; it's a shame they never met because he would have adored his youngest great granddaughter) and how much he loathed blackberries - he was passionate about disliking them, as they invaded the property on Sechelt and choked out the things he WANTED to grow, and, as any person around here knows, blackberries are hard to get rid of. Anyway, I found myself reminiscing about Grandpa, enjoying Tessa and Mary's company.

And then, home to make the jam. We had to do this with Grandma Mary/Mom because, as Tessa puts it, she makes "the best jam in the entire world," and in our family she's quite known for her jam-making abilities. I can't recall making jam ever before this, so I wanted to learn from a master, and, better yet, have Tessa learn from a master.

Sugar, berries, jars, lids, lemon juice, pectin...we were ready to go.

Tessa and Grandma washed the berries, mashed them, stirred them, measured them, and got them ready. Grandma had to leave a bit before it was done (Happy Birthday, Juliann!) but left us with clear instructions as to how to finish.

And now we have seven fat, shiny, cheerful jars of jam sitting on the counter to set. They're almost as pretty as the berries themselves.

I am so grateful to have these small moments. Tessa was so proud of herself, and Grandma is such a good teacher. Smiles all around!

(Even Ryan smiled. I say "even" because he is sick, sick, sick with some monsterous headache that is making him nauseaus. Blechhhhhhhhh. I hope he is better soon!)

I'd love to get a letter

From the 3-Day website:
---------
Note to Supporters: Send a letter expressing your love and support to your walker, which we’ll deliver to them on the event at the 3-Day Camp Post Office. Envelopes only, please. No boxes or large packages. Mail must be postmarked no later than August 24 in order to ensure delivery at the 3-Day Camp Post Office. Any mail that is not retrieved by the walker by September 24 will be destroyed.Please send letters to:3-Day Camp Post Office1752 NW Market St. #531Seattle, WA 98107-5224

Last year several people sent letters, and I can't tell you how much I appreciated it. I won't expect anything, but I'm very open to surprises! :-)

Also, you can send a letter to anyone on my team, of course. Everyone loves mail!

Let's get political

Whatever side of the political fence you're on, I have a request.

Take a look at this:
http://www.kintera.org/AutoGen/ecard/cardForm.asp?ievent=245271&msource=EML0809AA3
and sign the LiveSTRONG petition to make fighting cancer part of the national priority. Democrat or Republican or Independent, cancer impacts us all.

Don't do it for me, or even for Kristin, but do it for yourself. Do it for your children (whether you have them yet or not....and if you won't have children, then do it for Tessa, your nieces, your nephews, the kids at the neighborhood school....just do it!). Cancer is everywhere, and we all know that, and it's going to take some amazing research and funding to find the answers we need and bring about cures. Sign the petition, and let the world know that it's important to you. Let's end cancer NOW!

I'm sick of this disease. We must make change.

Not for a minute

I will continue to write on my blog about the minutae of my life; I will continue to rant, to tell Tessa stories, to wonder about my own condition. It is what I do. However, I want to say something, just for the record.

In the back of my mind is a constant prayer going up for Kristin. The pores of my body sing out a plea to the universe to make her well, to give her a long life. I plead for her the way I plead for myself....with every inch of my being. I long for her wellness the way I long for my own wellness. I fear for her, as I fear for myself, but more, because of what she faces.

So I will smile, and laugh, and play, and work, and be busy. But please know that I am not forgetting, and that my body hums with the work of pleading prayer.

Kristin's latest email includes these thoughts. I think that I will memorize them for my own use, and as a reminder of what REAL strength looks like:

"Just know that I won't let this beat me down or stand in my way. My babies are my babies and I will raise them. When I was first diagnosed I said to myself "Everyday I must believe with a magnitude so deep that my belief becomes a reality"- I can't stop believing now- I know I'll make it."

Her life is her own, not mine to broadcast the details, so I'll leave it at that. But Kristin, I believe your words. You WILL make it. And I'm praying, wishing, hoping, and breathing it.

more poetry

Caley brought up Mary Oliver's poetry, and I mistakenly thought I knew her work. I had to look it up on Google, and discovered that any familiarity I had once had with it had been almost completely lost, so I'm discovering it like it's for the first time. Beautiful! Thank you, Caley, for sharing.

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - - -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Poetry

Caley and I were talking about poetry for a while - what a delightful change of pace! There is clearly not enough poetry in my life, but I drank up her words and references like water on a hot day.

I have been thinking about this poem all day, as Tessa and I picked blackberries together today and we're going to make blackberry jam (after picking more blackberries) this weekend.
------------------
Blackberry Picking

Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's.
We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not.
-- Seamus Heaney

And life rolls on

Despite my high emotions over Kristin's recurrence, life goes on. Some days, it seems like the whole world should stop turning ("Stop the clocks") but, like it or not, it keeps spinning.

Today has been impossibily full - playdates and favors for friends and cooking and cleaning etc. We managed to spend time with Jenny, Zoe, Liam, Susie, Nina, Adam, Kathleen, Elena, and Beth, and then at the end of the day Caley came for dinner.

(I adore Caley. I am forever in her debt that she came to our aid when I was first diagnosed, and there is a bond there that is simply unshakable. I see a younger version of myself in her, but perhaps that is vanity on my part, because Caley is far more together than I was. Whatever the connection, I adore her and admire her.)

Now I'm wound up but in need of sleep. Tomorrow is certain to be another busy day, and now it looks like Ryan's coming down with "my" cold. Hopefully whatever he's feeling tonight will be gone by the morning.

Love,
Kristina

Well this will make for an interesting day!

6:05am, it's light outside, and I've been awake since 3:30am. I fell asleep after 11. These days, I'm tired on 10 hours of sleep, so we'll see how the rest of the day goes. Wish me patience with Tessa when she's raring to go and I'm dragging....

At least I cleaned out my email....!

Tossing and turning

I can't sleep. Strange, awful dreams float through my brain while I'm attempting sleep, but mostly I'm tossing and turning and my brain keeps forming the question "Why?" and missing the answer.

I have made peace with many things in the past two years. I will make peace with this, too, but I don't know how.

The 3-Day is coming up, and I'm not at all ready. I haven't been training like I ought to be, and it's so hard to find the time! I will do the event, though, and I will be okay, one way or another...

I have been asked by WARM 106.9 to do another radio interview....stay tuned for details. Kate Daniels, the interviewer, really liked my interview just prior to the Race for the Cure, and thought it would be great to promote the 3-Day with another interview. Fabulous!

I have been debating whether I wanted to continue with my plan to have surgery in October to do the final steps - nipples. My weird Barbie-boobs are so fake that I wondered if it was worth it to put my body through another surgery to make them look more real, knowing that they'd never be real. Well, yesterday the question was answered for me. Tessa, in a completely out-of the-blue statement, said, "Mommy, do you remember when you had nipples? Why don't you have them any more? I wish you would have them again." Suddenly, it was as simple as that. Tessa reminded me of their symbolism, and her request filled me with peace over the decision to get them. I am scheduled for surgery on October 5th. It's day surgery, with a couple weeks of recovery...I should be good to go for my Genentech engagement in North Carolina on October 22.

Camping this weekend was fantastic. It was all I'd hoped for and more....all four of us (including Shep) had a wonderful time. On Sunday, we went for a family hike of an hour or an hour and a half, and I was filled with joy to see Tessa's excitement over huckleberries and salmonberries, wildflowers, a millipede, and the rest. She can now tell the difference between bracken and swordfern, and we've promised to bring out the books on flower names for next time.

The Hissongs and the Hisatomis were with us for this trip, and it was incredible to share in their friendship and to relax with them. On Saturday night, Heather, Natasha and I sat around the campfire after the guys and kids were all in bed, and it was relaxing to laugh and talk with them. These are the important moments in life! Ryan and I have a few more camping trips on the docket between now and the end of September....we've got momentum and we don't want to lose it. I would like Tessa to remember her childhood as a camping childhood, and once or twice a year isn't enough. I think we're going to go to Newhalem (up highway 20, part of the North Cascades National Park) for Labor Day weekend.

I am somehow gearing up for fall. I've been making lists of things to do, as I always do in fall, because I love nesting in the fall. I was discussing this with Heather, and we agreed that it was the teacher in each of us that made fall feel like the "real" new year. I'm looking forward to taking care of the house, getting ready for more time indoors. I'm not ready to send out the summer yet, but I feel that I'm enjoying the summer immensely and yet still able to look ahead to the cooler fall days.

I don't really have anything to say, but here I am. Sleepless, restless, weary.

I'll try to go back to bed. Maybe sleep will find me.

Shaking

Today I learned that one of my Warrior Women team members has advanced to stage IV breast cancer.

That's a clinical sentence....let me try it again.

Today I found out that Kristin, an amazing, spirited, incredibly positive (truly, I look like a whiner next to her) warrior, has just learned that the breast cancer she's been fighting for less than a year has come back, and it's in her lungs.

Many of you have heard me mention Kristin's story, but let me retell a little of it. She was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 6 weeks pregnant. At 8 weeks pregnant, she had a mastectomy. She did AC through her second trimester, and then delivered her baby - a gorgeous baby girl, Ellie...healthy and strong, with more hair than her mama had! - in April. In May, Kristin came and helped out at the yard sale....she's fighting for a cure for everyone, not just herself.

While pregnant, and in chemo, Kristin worked 20 hours a week, taught aerobics (that one blows my mind!), and was a caring mother to daughter Luci and loving wife to Craig. Kristin's kick-ass attitude was to take no prisoners: she is fighting this disease with everything she's got, and she's determined to find a cure by the time our daughters are old enough to worry. I am honored to walk with her as a Warrior Woman.

Kristin is still in chemo - one Taxol left. I do not know what the new treatment plan will look like.

There is nobody fighting breast cancer harder than Kristin; there is nobody with a more positive attitude. The word inspiration is completley overused in the case of cancer survivorship, but really, she's off the charts. Kristin inspires me.

The news that she has another, even harder, battle to fight, feels like a punch in the face. My reaction is physical - when I found out, I thought for a moment I might throw up, and then I burst into real tears. Not little leaking at the eyes tears.....sobbing, wrenching weeping.

I feel outrage, agony, terror, pain, disbelief, shock, fear. I weep for Kristin, and I weep for myself because her path may be my path, too. (Please do not reply to this with platitudes. Sympathy towards these feelings is welcome, of course, but I can not bear to hear "this won't happen to you" right now. Nobody knows what will happen. We hope for the best, but I also fear the worst, and yes, I have a good attitude, but we all know that doesn't necessarily help.)

Today, I weep.

In my Genentech "story" I say that the moment I became a survivor was the moment when, after collapsing to the floor of the grocery store upon hearing the words "you have cancer," I stood up. I said that it is the act of standing up that makes one a survivor. I say, "First, you weep. Then, you stand up."

Today, I'm weeping. Maybe tomorrow I will stand up.

Kristin, I can only imagine what you are feeling right now. I imagine that weeping is part of it. I am certain that you will also stand. Holding your daughters' hands, staring into your husband's eyes, you will find the strength you need. Your strength is deep, and it is there for you. There are many hands reaching out to hold you up when you do not feel strong, but I am certain that there is a well of strength in you that has not yet been tapped. I am so, so sorry that you must seek the depths of that strength.

I am prepared to fight at Kristin's side. She is not a close friend, as we've only met a handful of times, but I am deeply touched by her strength, conviction, and desire to live...in addition to her humor and warmth. She is a Warrior Woman, and I will be a warrior at her side. I will fight for the cure for both of us. I will be there for Kristin and her beautiful family.

My pain is real today, but it's nothing compared to Kristin's. Please think, pray, send karma, or whatever you do in her direction.

I hate cancer. I hate ****'n cancer.

Kristina

PS After today's news, I do not have the desire just now to write about my wonderful camping trip this weekend. I still have much to celebrate, but today all of my thoughts are with Kristin.

Camping

I love camping. Let me repeat that - I LOVE CAMPING!

I love the smell of the woods - the richness of Pacific Northwest soil, created with fir needles, swordfern, moss, salal, and rotting nurse logs is pure ambrosia to me. I love waking up in the wee hours of the morning to hear birds cackling with glee - even the noisy, raucous bluejays make me smile. I love hearing nothing but the occassional pine needle falling on the tent in the middle of the night when all is still, when even a solitary pine needle falling is noticeable because of the stillness. I love getting up in the middle of the night to go to the loo, fumbling for a flashlight and a pair of flip-flops, and discovering that a million stars have come out to play while I was sleeping.

I love watching Tessa roast marshmallows, convinced that heaven is a place where you can roast sticky, messy, sugary treats on sticks over a fire without getting so much as a sideways glance from your parents (that does remind me to pack some wipes, though!). I love padding around in the morning bundled up in long underwear, making coffee (no need to go without just becasue we're in the woods!) on the propane camp stove.

I love sitting around in the middle of the day, with nothing to do but look at a good book, in the shade from the sun. I equally love throwing lunch into a backpack and exploring on foot, away from cars and all things mechanical or computerized. I love glances of wild animals - the cries of "oh look there's a fawn!" and "okay Mr. Raccoon you can come into our camp but stay AWAY from my chocolate" and "can you believe we saw a river otter - I love them!" mixed in with chattering about children's development, house projects, and the other mundane things that make up our lives.

I love that we're going to share this with friends, and that there is certain to be much laughter.

I love being warm and cozy in my sleeping bag at the end of the day, filled with the day's adventures, and fighting sleep because it just feels too good to miss a minute. I also love staying in bed as long as possible in the morning because it's so cozy and the day can wait!

We'll sit around a campfire with our children, watching them learn to love camping. And then we'll tuck them in bed, and we'll have a glass of wine, and we'll remember how relaxing camping can be for us.

Good, good times.

Of course, I still feel lousy but I don't care. I am not going to let this cold take over! Today I managed to get the grocery shopping done and to make the spaghetti sauce and to organize most of the camping stuff, and though I still have more to do I'm convinced, at last, that it will actually GET done. We're optimistic even enough to think that our family can go to C&P for a little hang-out time before Ryan heads to work (he'll join us after work) and Tessa and I meet the other moms & kids in the ferry lineup (we're headed to the peninsula).

Wish us luck!

I have a cold

Bah humbug.

Today we were going to go to the wading pool at Gold Creek with Jessie, and have lunch with Charlotte & Caley, and I am just not feeling up to it. Jessie is still over, but I just don't have the energy to do much because my head is pounding and foggy and I just feel tired and achy and I have a bit of a cough and sore throat.

Poor, poor me. ;-)

Of course, a cold is just a cold. They come, they go. It's a hassle more than anything else, and I'm not needing of any pity - I know what "real" health issues are and this isn't one of them! None-the-less, I feel lousy and I hope that I get better soon. (And I have enough self-pity for this cold that I don't need anyone else's sympathies!)

So, a down day. I'm filling the wading pool for the girls, so they can play in the back yard, and I'm slowly folding laundry and the like. Not a bad day in the sunshine, although not what I had planned. I'd say my energy is 30% of my normal, but I'm functional!

Tomorrow we're going camping. I am not going to let this stupid cold get in my way, although the prospect of grocery shopping, making meals in advance, and packing up the entire car does have me exhausted before I begin. One foot in front of the other....!

Preschool

I'm starting to think about fall, and it's barely August...!

Tessa's preschool schedule is:
Tuesday, 12:15-3pm
Thursday, 12:15-3pm
Friday, 8:45am-11:30am

I have to figure out how to use my "off" time effectively, and how the new routine will look. I'm hoping that we can walk Shep to preschool with Tessa each day, which will be good for the environment (not driving the car), good quality time with Tessa and I, good exercise, and (of course) very happy for Shep. The preschool is perhaps a mile away, and that's the perfect distance as long as it's not sleeting. (Rain is fun for puddles, snow is fun, but sleet....brrr and yuck!) And once Tessa's in school, I can work out, run errands, write, clean the house, get a job, do volunteer work....oh wait, that's 15 hours a day I've just filled up! Well, I'll come up with something. :-)

Trying to enjoy summer days, but still thinking ahead....

PS Mom, I posted this here because you'd asked about Tessa's schedule next year. Here it is!

Wednesday

I'm struggling with a headache/cold/minor cough....and I wish they'd all go away. Some minutes I feel absolutely normal (this morning Tessa and I went to the Junction; she rode her bike and I walked/jogged beside her), and other minutes I feel like my head will explode. What's with that?! I'm low energy, and my to-do list seems even longer than usual, which is stressful. Normal, though!

We're getting ready for a little camping trip this weekend, and I'm excited to spend the night in a tent. Camping with a child and a dog is a little different than what we used to do, but it's wonderful and I'm looking forward to it. Some friends are joining us, and it promises to be a good time. Fingers crossed for good weather.

Shep went to the vet yesterday for a check-up, routine shots, and toenail trim. He is doing well, and his foot is healing nicely. It's still a "Frankenfoot" and always will be (scars galore, and scar tissue instead of a pad) but he is a happy pup who loves nothing more than to run around with his people and any passing dog, and we are grateful that despite the injury, and the horrific expenses it incurred, he is well. While he was healing it seemed to take forever (in reality, it was a couple of months before his skin grew back), but it's in the past now. These things happen, and they're horribly stressful of course, but it could have been worse. He still drives me nuts, but I do love him!

(Our thoughts go out to Zuma, Krystal's dog, who has her own injury right now, and to our extended family members who find themselves involved in this fiasco. I hope that forgiveness can be offered on all sides, and that all family members can see that each person involved has a good heart and does not/did not have negative intent. Emotions run high when beloved dogs are involved, and when expense is involved, and this is understandable. Family is forever, though, and I hope that everyone can work it out.)

Tessa is loving her bicycle, and sings the songs from "Sally Jean, The Bicycle Queen" (a favorite book) when she's perched atop her bike seat. She creates quite the picture when she's got her long (she won't let us cut it!) blond hair streaming behind her from under her helmet, wearing a skirt (ever the girly-girl, even when she's sporty), her bike-basket filled with stuffed animals, dandelions picked along the way, pedaling fast. The bike - a wonderful hand-me-down from Ellie & Molly - is a girl's dream, all pink and purple and white with sparkles and lovely streamers on the handlebars. Tessa's getting better on it, and though she still needs her training wheels she's getting much more confident and I often have to jog to keep up with her. She's learned how to slow herself and to stop (important skills!), and she goes over small bumps with ease now. She still shrieks when she's scared on the bike, but we've come a long way, and she's so proud of herself. It makes me feel a mother's joy to watch her attain this new skill, and to see her absolute delight.

More to say, but my head is entirely foggy this afternoon and I have a lot to do, anyway. Off to the races!

Love,
Kristina

Doubt - change of plan?

At first, when we started talking about renting out our basement, I was 100% for it. It seemed so easy, so simple, so perfect!

And now, perhaps because reality is setting in, I'm filled with doubt.

Do I really want to share our house? And if we do, is it worth it? How much money will we make each month after expenses (we need to buy a stove, doors, carpeting, paint, etc) and after utilities, taxes, fees and permits? Our basement is not deluxe, and I'm the first to admit that, so I am wondering if it's really worth $700. Am I really willing to give up so much for such a small amount of money?

Do we want to give up our family room, our guest room, and our second bathroom? In addition to giving up that space, we would be giving up our ability to find a quiet corner for some down time - our bedroom has french doors leading to the living room, and sound and light transmit through them. Noise transmits from upstairs to down and vice versa; do we want that? Do we want to share a hot water tank? Our yard?

But if we don't rent out our basement, exactly how should we go about earning some extra cash?

We could cut back on expenses. I just don't know how well we can do this. We're not exactly spending money willy-nilly right now...

Ideally, Genentech would offer me one speaking engagement per month, and this would allow us to budget better. I find the work for Genentech incredibly satisfying, and I feel that I have a talent for what they need me for, and I like the "now and then" nature of the work because it doesn't require me to set up daycare for Tessa. But if that's not going to happen (I am going to NC for an engagement in October, but that's only 4 engagements for 2007, not 12) then what? I could tutor students in high school English, I could seek part time employment, I could....what? I'm mulling it over at this time.

Tessa goes to kindergarten in a year, and that factors into this, too. I want to be available for her this year.

So, there is a lot on my mind. A lot to work through. I'm filled with doubt on every prospect - I see pros and cons for all, and so I (we) have to work it through. Stay tuned!

Three left

The title of this post makes me think back to chemo and radiation, when I was counting down. For chemo, the starting number was 16, for radiation it was 33, and, if my calculations are correct, I am counting down from 43 for Herceptin. If I've counted accurately, then I've completed 40 Herceptin appointments.

44 times going to the treatment center (40 Herceptin plus the 4 chemos that came before I started Herceptin) for a drug that is infused through an IV. Forty-four times being poked with a needle and receiving an IV, either through the port or through my arm. Forty-four times hearing the stories of other patients. Forty-four times having to squash the fear that rises in my throat; forty-four times having to remind myself that I'm okay that it's not me that I'm doingeverythingIcan and reminding myself, if possible, not to hyperventilate. I've been successful so far with keeping my emotions relatively controlled; I do not fight the nurses, I do not cry, I do not refuse to go.

For some reason, as I approach the end of my Herceptin treatment, it's getting harder for me each time I go to the treatment center. No side effects from Herceptin that I am aware of, and my veins complied this time, and life is good....but still, Cancerland is Cancerland.

Off to better things today...!

Four more Herceptin

Tomorrow I get my fourth-to-last Herceptin. My last one will be September 27, and I am counting down the days.

I am so, so, so tired of being in Cancerland. I have to psych myself up to go to the appointment. Last time I got 5 needles because my veins weren't compliant, but that's the least of it. I always overhear some horrible conversation about cancer running rampant in someone's body, or hear someone crying, or hear a nurse making hospice (end of life) arrangements on the phone for a patient, or someone throws up, or something. It's no way to spend the morning, I tell you that. Bah humbug.

Herceptin is a wonderful drug. I'm glad to get it. I believe in it, and it's worth it. But I hate Cancerland.

MIL Apartment Available in West Seattle!

Ryan and I have reached the decision that our lives would be better with some extra cash. (That shouldn't be a surprise to anyone - everyone can use extra cash!) We are very fortunate in that our house has a built-in mother-in-law apartment, and so we're going to rent it out for some extra income. We feel good about this decision, as it prevents me from returning to work, and it's an asset we already have, so we might as well make use of it. Our house is big enough for us even without the basement - we have tons of storage in our attic, Tessa's room is a large play-space, and we still have the living room and dining room for entertaining. We are so fortunate to have this option!

Anyway, here's the email I just sent out to a few friends to announce that we're starting to look for a tenant; I'm putting it here because you just never know who might be readint this and looking for a place to live. Please send me your referrals for people who might want a quiet place to live, close to the shops, near the bus line, in a great part of West Seattle.

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Hello, friends!

Do you know anyone who might be looking for a quiet place in West Seattle?
Ryan and I have decided that we are going to prepare our basement (which already has a kitchen, bathroom with shower, bedroom, and living room) for rent to bring in some extra rental income. We're doing some small upgrades (buying a stove, new flooring in the kitchen, installing a new door for the downstairs entrance, paint, etc.), and hope to have it ready for a tenant in mid-August or thereabouts, hopefully to have someone move in by September 1. The apartment is 1000+ sq. feet, and all utilities (including basic cable and internet access; no phone included) will be included in the rental cost; we will share the laundry facilities. A cat would be welcome; no dogs, please (our one dog is enough!). Our ideal tenant would be a single woman, but we don't discriminate. ;-) Absolutely no smoking.

We haven't yet determined the fair rental value, but we're working on that and getting some comps to compare it to (looking at about $700/month). Right now I thought I'd start with word of mouth to see if any of you knew someone who might be interested.

If you know anyone who might be interested, please let us know or pass along this message! We won't be prepared to show the place until mid-August, but I hope to generate some interest before then. :-) Anyone interested can email me at rykri@comcast.net .

Thanks!
Kristina

Love this graphic

Someone on the YSC boards had this as part of their signature. I am feeling decidedly UN-Wonderwoman-ish today, but still love this picture.

At the aquarium today

Today, Tessa and I met up with cousin Caleb, Grammy and Grandpa at the aquarium. As you can see from these pictures, a good time was had by all!

After the aquarium, Tessa and I caught the water taxi home, stopping at "Coffee to a Tea" for cupcakes and Husky Deli for ice cream, and we came home and got Ryan's birthday dinner ready. (His actual birthday is Monday, but since that's a weeknight we celebrated a bit early with Paul & Libby.) It was lovely to spend a relaxed evening with Paul & Libby.

Tessa was completely worn out by the end, but happy from her busy day. Me too!

Tessa

Ryan said that his dad would look at this shot and have the perfect advice for Tessa - "Wait. Wait. Wait some more before you swing!" Good advice if she'll follow it, but actually hitting the ball wasn't important today. Today, Ryan got his first father-daughter pitching session, and I'm not sure who was happier about it, because both of them were glowing. Happy days!

Tessa getting tips on baseball from Daddy. (This time the fashion accessory is a Hawaiian flower barette.) Ryan, dressed in bike gear and fresh from his ride, came home hungry but had to delay his dinner because the sweet call of "Daddy, will you play baseball with me? I can run all of the bases - first, second, third, and sixth!" was too wonderful to resist. Tessa had her first go at baseball today at her YMCA "camp" and she loved it. Never mind that when I watched she was mostly drawing pictures in the dust behind the pitcher's mound...in her head, she's a baseball star.

Tessa at her first day of soccer, showing off her new YMCA camp shirt and her new shin guards. Oh, yes, and wearing kitty ears and posing. She made me laugh - but it was easy to spot her on the field! She is really enjoying soccer, and is getting better at kicking the ball around with a small (small!) degree of control.

This is of Tessa at the hospital on July 4. Notice that SHE has color in her cheeks, but Ryan is pale (as was I!). By the time we got to emergency, Tessa was feeling better to some degree, but both her parents were pretty freaked out. In this shot, Tessa is wearing her "4th of July" outfit - the one she was going to wear at the parade - and she's got her hand taped to the IV board. Ugh - I hope we don't have to do that any time soon.

It's late and I want to go to bed, but I wanted to share these pics. Have a good night!

Training

I am just home (well, okay, I've been home for a while now) from a great training walk with Heather (ironically, she's not on the team, but she was up for the walk and I was so glad for the company!) along Alki. We did about 7.5 miles and it felt great to get out and move. It's time for me to really train for the 3-Day, and though 7.5 miles isn't impressive in the face of 60 miles, it's a nice little walk none-the-less. The weather was gorgeous, Alki was sparkling with sun on the water and people milling all over the place, and it was great to catch up with Heather without the interruptions of little kids. (Love those children, but they're not the best at allowing adult conversations!)

And maybe this will help my muffin-top to go away. And go away NOW! Ryan's reunion is in 18 days and I'm going to lose five pounds. I'm DETERMINED! :-) Not just for the reunion, but it's a nice goal to have in front of me, and I'd like to feel good in a bathing suit for the rest of the summer.

In other working out news...
My body is not letting me train for a marathon. I'm having to revise my 2007 goal to be running a 1/2 marathon, no walking (by this I mean 1 minute walk breaks but not walking miles). I may be able to run/walk a marathon in 2007, but I won't be able to run the whole thing. My body is just not cooperating....too much fatigue and joint pain from the **** drugs. Grrr.

A summer day in West Seattle

This morning, Tessa had soccer class at the Delridge Playfield, and afterwards we played at the play structure with Anna & Beth. Then, Tessa and I popped in on Marilyn to meet the new baby (already three weeks old!) and to deliver a small gift (thank you to Mom S. for doing the embroidery!). Then, a quick trip the grocery store and lunch, then off to Alki to meet Molly & Ellie for some beach time. Tessa was a bit of a grump (grrr that's an understatement) and it was a bit windy at Alki despite the warmth, so we headed back to our house and the girls played in the wading pool in the back yard while Molly and I chatted.

Then, a few chores around the house, and I made dinner and packed it up as a picnic. Ryan got home, showered (he rode his bike to work today), and then we loaded up the jogging stroller, snapped a leash on Shep, and walked the mile or mile and a half to Lowman Beach Park for a picnic (and time for Tessa to play on the swings). Then, home again, visiting with neighbors out in their yards as we passed by, and time to tuck Tessa in to bed. In a moment, Ryan and I will go cool off a bit in the back yard by laying out in the hammock, enjoying the evening breeze, and then I think I'm off to bed!

This is my idea of a good day. Jam packed, but also full of fun.

I think that Tessa is still feeling slightly off after her illness; she's not sick at all but she's also not recovered, as she's a bit more tired than usual and a bit more grumpy than usual (oh dear). I think she enjoyed the stroller ride tonight - out enjoying the summer air, but not as active.

I'm counting my points on Weight Watchers and hoping to see improvements SOON. My muffin-top needs to go away immediately - ugh. Having gotten rid of it once I know I can do it again but the sooner the better! Ryan's high school reunion is at the end of the month and I intend to look smashing. ;-)

Yesterday we did quite a bit of yard work - trust me, the yard REALLY needed it! - and I'm so pleased with the results....it's amazing what a few hours of work can do. I enjoy sitting out back so much more when the weeds are pulled and the plants are perky from being watered and the walkway is swept, etc. It makes me really enjoy being at home, and count my blessings, rather than just thinking "oh I have so much to do". Of course, there is much work still to be done, but now I see the progress and I like that. :-)

Have a good night!

(Something is going on with Blogger where I can't title my posts. Whatever!)

Recovery

This week I'm in recovery from the preceeding week and a half. I'm coming down from the terror of Tessa's illness and my scan-scare, and trying to forge ahead.

Yesterday, I did 12 miles around Greenlake (4.5 running, walking the rest) and we went to a birthday party for Jackson & Carter (great to see the Landahl & Neufeld & Chin clans). Today, Ryan watched Paul do a time trial and then hooked up with Tessa and I at the zoo, where we were enjoying Daven's Safari-style birthday party. Now we're home, and I'm procrastinating for a little while before doing some heavy weeding (ugh the garden is a mess!).

Recovery. This weekend is going well, though Tessa's still a bit tired and still looks so painfully thin to me (her pants were falling off her rear-end today...she really did lose some weight, and she's so thin to begin with)...she's also a bit grumpy after her week of illness. But it's all okay, and this week promises to deliver more!

This is a different version of the same post, below. This one I wrote to the YSC boards. Writing as therapy, I suppose. Maybe by writing it I can write it out of my system.

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I just have to rant.

I had Herceptin today. My onc ran into me and said, "I knew you'd be in and I wanted to discuss something with you." (uh-oh) She said, "It's really probably nothing but there was a 2.2cm spot on your chest on your last (6/14) MRI, and you need an X-ray to confirm that it's nothing."

CRAP.

She repeated all the things that it probably was (probably not mets), and she's so fabulous and wonderful and thorough, and reassuring, but the thing is, nothing can reassure me any more. The statistics are almost meaningless to me. I mean, I've heard "it's probably nothing" before, and I got breast cancer (and double mastectomies, chemo, etc.). "Probably" doesn't mean a damn thing to me any more when it comes to this beast.

So then I sat through Herceptin, x-ray paperwork in my hand, telling myself to stop having a fit and to calm down. Of course, that didn't work.

And it was nothing. The tech said, "Don't bug your doc until Monday at earliest" but, not being overly compliant with such things and being utterly unwilling to have another ruined weekend, I marched straight to my doc's office and asked if she could pull up the results (thank God for computers with instant information). She viewed the x-rays, and declared that I "have the loveliest lungs [she's] ever seen." Nothing to worry about.

But now I'm exhausted, and madder than hell.I have fought so hard to put this behind me. I wore a sassy cleavage-revealing dress to Herceptin today, proving to myself and the world that I Do Not Look Like a Cancer Patient. I wanted to show everyone in the treatment center that they, too, could be healthy and look great again. I wanted to prove to myself that I did not fit in at the chemo ward. I wanted to look like -and feel like- the antithesis of a cancer patient.

But the thing that makes me mad, furious, boiling, is that there is not a damn thing that I can do on the inside to prevent the fear from boiling over again. The cancer is in charge, not me, and a pretty, hip dress and lip gloss can fool the world, but if cancer wants to come back, it will. Simple as that. I can dress to impress (to impress myself, mostly) and I can run and mother my daughter and volunteer and fundraise and speak for the cause and it doesn't make a damn bit of difference. I did a ton of treatment, and that may not make a difference either.Two years out, and cancer still knows how to grab me by the neck and shove me against the wall, just for fun, just to mess with me. The fact that cancer walked away without leaving a mark this time doesn't placate me....I'm just so damn tired of being messed with. And I'm tired to realize that I just have to accept this behaviour, to live with the fear when it arises, and to acknowledge that it's out of my hands.

Cancer is a bully and I can't report him to the principal to get him expelled. Instead, I slink along the hallways, furtively glancing left and right to see if he's there, and with every scan or test I feel him throw me into the lockers and frisk me for my lunch money. The fact that he chuckles nastily and then walks away without leaving a bruise is of little consolation; I know that next time I might get beaten senseless.(And I have no idea where that analogy came from. I was never bullied....!)

So I'm venting, ranting, raging at the unfairness of it all. Two years out and I'm doing everything right and I'm cancer free and god-damn-it I want to be past all of this! I want to be invincible, and you'd think it wouldn't surprise me any more to remember how mortal I am, but each reminder hurts just as much as the one before.Damnit.

(And for the girls out there who are newer at this than I, I will add just one little tiny PollyAnna note at the bottom. Most days are much, much, much better than this. Sometimes I do forget about the bully....and that's perhaps why I'm so mad about him today. I thought he was gone for good, or at least for a few more months, and he surprised me. I don't like that kind of surprise. But most days are pretty darn good, not like what I'm describing here. Today was just lousy.)

Thanks for letting me rage at it all. I thought if anyone understood, it would be you ladies.

My nerves are frazzled.

To open, everything is fine, so I'm not trying to freak anyone out by this post.

But I'm completely frazzled.

After the long week plus of Tessa's illness, I'm just ready to be relaxed and stop worrying. I arranged childcare for Tessa this morning, and then headed to my Herceptin appointment.

First thing at my appointment, I ran into my oncologist, who said, "I need to talk to you. It's probably nothing, but the MRI showed a 2.2cm spot on your lung and we need to check it out; since you're here I'd like you to get an X-ray today after your Herceptin appointment."

Spot on my lung? This falls into the category of Very, Very Bad Things and scared me to death. Sure, she said it was probably nothing, but I've been told "it's probably nothing before" and then I got breast cancer and all that came with it. "It's probably nothing" is only very slightly reassuring, but not nearly enough to stop my stomach from somersaulting. Breast cancer often metastasizes to the lungs (as well as bone, liver, and brain) and so this is exactly the kind of news I'm frightened of getting.

So I went to my Herceptin appointment and tried to will myself to stay calm. Then, I went to the radiology department, stripped into one of those horrible blue backless gowns, and got my chest X-rayed, front and side. After the appointment, I asked the tech (who is forbidden from interpreting my results) how soon my doctor would have the results, and she said, "Well, I've already got them entered into the computer but I wouldn't bug your doc until Monday at the earliest." I smiled and thanked her, then ignored that advice completely (there was NO way I was going to sit on pins and needles wondering if the cancer had returned, worse than ever) and marched straight to Dr. Rinn's office.

Dr. Rinn, lovely woman that she is, understood completely, and looked up the X-rays on the spot. "I've never seen lungs so lovely," she told me, and all is clear. Nothing to be concerned about.

And yet, I'm so freakin' exhausted. This whole process wears me out.

Today I put on a cute dress and flip-flops to go to Herceptin. I was determined to look as non-cancer-ish as possible. The dress is slightly low-cut, to reveal cleavage. It has a saucy band of bright color, but is otherwise a hip black color. In it, I feel good - girly, feminine, and pretty. It's the kind of dress that cancer patients do not wear; breast cancer patients, I've noticed, tend to wear things up to their necks; they tend to wear sweats to treatment. (I did - it was comfortable and I didn't exactly feel like drawing attention to my fat, bald self. I didn't feel pretty; I didn't dress to draw attention to my non-existant breasts.)

I realize now that the dress was meant to ward off my own bad feelings about cancer, to prove to myself that I'd come so far. To walk into the waiting room at the treatment center and have eyes turn toward me, the same look on every face, "What is SHE doing here? She looks so healthy! She doesn't look like a cancer patient!"

But the dress is only a disguise, and I'm horrified to remember that no matter what I wear, no matter how long I put this behind me, no matter how long my hair gets, now matter how healthy I look, I am still a cancer patient. I still get MRIs and X-rays and scans and I'm still covered in scars and I still have no guarantees. The cancer isn't fooled by my outfits, or my lip gloss. It's not afraid of my kick-ass attitude, and it only smiles slyly when I put on my PollyAnna mood and tell everyone, "I believe that the cancer is gone, never to return. Just look at how hard I fought to keep it away! Look how much treatment I did, above and beyond the standard!" Cancer knows what cancer knows. It might not come back. But it might.

I hate this simple fact. I hate that the little lurking thought - which was not just lurking, but shouting at me today - that the cancer might come back never completely disappears. I can run, I can mother, I can write, I can volunteer, I can fundraise, I can walk, but I can't earn a guarantee.

I do believe that the cancer is gone. But today, my fear was real, and justified. I got another reprieve: all is well. But it will take a while for my heart to stop beating so fast. It will take a while to recover from the fact that I have, once again, been faced with my fears head on. I can't describe this feeling to anyone who hasn't been there him/herself. If you don't know this kind of fear, I don't want to let you in on it. It's bone chilling, gut wrenching, mind blowing. It comes and it goes, but when it comes, it takes my breath away.

Breathe in, breathe out. I'm recovering from the day, but it saps my energy more than I can describe.

Now off to care for my daughter, who is yelling at me to get a new string for her beading project. Despite my mental collapse (ha!), life goes on, and duty calls.

Love,
Kristina

Still well

This morning Tessa is doing well. She ate all her cereal, drank all her milk, and dressed herself for the day. The day includes a playdate with Jessie & Emma while I go to get Herceptin at the hospital; I often bring her to this appointment, but a) she hates it, b) it's hard to entertain her while I have an IV, and most importantly c) there are too many immune-compromised people in a chemo ward to bring in a kid who has been sick for a week. THANK YOU to Katie for covering for me!

I'm hopeful that today will go well. I'm tired, physically and emotionally, after a week and a half of illness in the house (cabin). I want my summer, and I want it now!

I've received many phone calls offering love and support for Tessa....THANK YOU. Your emails and calls have meant the world to me.

Love,
Kristina

All is well?

I put the question mark in the title because who knows what is up any more, but we are home after another very uneventful doctor's visit (our fourth this week for Tessa). The doc looked at all of Tessa's vitals, and said, "She probably has/had a virus. No concern at this time," which is what each appointment tells us. I would feel like a fool for going in today except that the nurse at Children's had been so adamant...and I'd rather go too much than miss something important.

Tessa had a relatively good dinner, not quite her usual but her appetite is returning. She's going to bed right now and complained of a tummy ache again but this time it passed quickly - who knows, maybe she has gas! This virus is of an unknown quality and that makes me nervous but it seems that it is disappearing as mysteriously as it arrived.

We hope for a normal day tomorrow. Katie will watch Tessa so that I can go to Herceptin, and hopefully the day will be uneventful. I got caught up on a lot of chores today - laundry, sweeping, vacuuming, bathroom, some dusting (where on earth does so much dust come from?!) and even organized Tessa's room a little and purged some stuff from her room, and after the doc we went to the grocery store for the first time since returning from Orcas, so the house is relatively caught up at last. Tomorrow maybe I'll put up the wading pool and Tessa can run with the dogs in the back yard and I will do some weeding....we'll see!

Love,
Kristina

Here we go again...

After talking to Children's about the lab results (nothing unusual except that her counts still show that she's got an inflammation somewhere in her system...same as before...) about Tessa's tummy pain, crying, and subsequent napping (she's been in bed since 11:30ish), they said, "Bring her back here today or go to your primary care doc today" and since I'm not big on hospital waiting rooms :-( we have the first available appointment with the pediatrician, at 4:5opm today.

Tessa is still sleeping. No signs of fever.

I have Herceptin at 3:30pm today and I had to reschedule for tomorrow at 9:30am. I pray that by then this will be resolved. This SUCKS.

FYI, since she has pain on one side of her abdomen, I looked up appendicitis online. Her symptoms do not correspond.

Now what?

Tessa woke up today crabby, but I sort of expected this because after a week of us saying "yes dear" to her every request ("You want pizza? Sure!" and then when she ate literally two bites, "oh well do you want anything else?") due to her illness, we expected "re-entry" (Katie's term for it) issues. So, the bad, bossy, whiney mood didn't strike me as too unusual.

(It didn't grate on my nerves any less, but that's another post!)

Anyway, at about 11:30 this morning, Tessa started crying and told me she had a stomach ache, on one side of her abdomen. Then she went to bed and went to sleep.

This, to put it bluntly, sucks. I've got a call in to the nurse. What do I worry about next?! No fever right now, but....

I'm hanging in there. While she sleeps, I'm scrubbing things and putting things away and trying to get caught up, so at least there's progress there. But I don't like this, not one bit.

Home again and a sigh of relief

We are home from Children's, exhausted, but well.

The short version: After further blood work, another urine test, a chest x-ray, an some kind of awful nasal aspiration (vacuum tubes into Tessa's sinuses....horrible), Tessa started to perk up. The fever is gone, her energy is returning, and the tests show that some of her counts (including the CRP I mentioned earlier) are falling back towards normal ranges.

We were released before all of the tests come in as some won't be done until tomorrow at noon, but they've ruled out mono, Epstein-Barr (which is another name for mono?), UTIs, pneumonia, and some other concerns. At this point the diagnosis is "unspecified viral infection" or, in short, "we think it might be a virus." As long as it disappears and doesn't come back, this diagnosis is okay with me!

I'm exhausted. I held Tessa while she cried and tried not to think about the what if's as they poked and prodded her. I didn't enjoy that, and nor did Ryan.

Afterwards, Tessa was recovered enough to pop in at C&P for their BBQ, and we got to catch up with a few friends there and Tessa got to be a regular kid instead of hospital-kid. This is a major improvement, needless to say.

And now we're all exhausted. A quiet night for us - no fireworks, no parties - and we will just go to bed early. Tomorrow, I'll unpack from Orcas, arrange playdates, clean the house....and live in the gratitude that it looks like Tessa is healthy once again.

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers. The last time I was at Children's was to visit nephew Josiah when he had cancer.....dark days. I am grateful that this was a very different experience.

Love,
Kristina

Getting ready to go to Children's

I don't want to face this day. We were going to go to the Admiral 4th of July Parade this morning, and we bought streamers and flags to decorate Tessa's bike, and she was going to throw candy from her bike basket. Then we were going to go to the C&P BBQ with friends & neighbors, and then we were going to BBQ with the Hisatomi's. It sounded like an amazing, wonderful day. We'd even talked about letting Tessa nap after dinner, and then walking her in the stroller to Alki to see the fireworks.

Instead, we have to face needles, fevers, the ER, and scans searching for "something." I hate this. Of course all of my own experiences leading up to this don't make it any easier; I can't help but remember what it was like to see my own scan results up on the light box as the doctor talked about tumors and malignancy for the first time. Will today be like that day?

If there is something awful, it will be worse than the first time. Worse, for two reasons. One, because I would know how awful the journey could become....very little is left to the imagination, having been down that road already. Two, because it's Tessa. I would go through it myself ten more times rather than have these fears for HER.

And yes, I know, this could still be nothing. I'm praying for that. It's just that I know how "something" can go, and it scares me more than I can say.

I'm off to put on a good face, to gather a bag of toys, and to take my daughter to the ER. Please wish us luck and health, and that this will become just a bad memory and nothing more.

What is CRP?

From the web:
Normally there is no CRP in blood serum. From Lab Tests Online, "a high or increasing amount of CRP in your blood suggests that you have an acute infection or inflammation. Although a result above 1 mg/dL is usually considered high for CRP, most infections and inflammations result in CRP levels above 10 mg/dL".
A positive CRP may be an indicator of several conditions, including:
rheumatoid arthritis
rheumatic fever
cancer
tuberculosis
pneumonia
heart attack
lupus

Well, I wish I could say all that made me feel better. :-( Normal is 0 to 0.5 and Tessa's is 18.9.

Tessa update

We don't know too much.

It is not definitively a virus. It may be, but it may not be.

The WBC and CBC is all normal. Her CRP is elevated to 18.9 (normal is 0-0.5), her polys are slightly high. I have little idea what this means and I'll be researching it online in just a second.

The doc said that there wouldn't be much benefit in taking her to the hospital at midnight, so she's arranging for us to check in tomorrow morning. Tessa will get a chest x-ray to check for pneumonia and "other things" and we'll go from there.

I am trying very hard not to over-react. I am also trying hard not to throw up from the anxiety.

No update yet

I spoke to the doctor on call a few minutes ago, and the lab work isn't done. So we're still waiting, though it's past the time I'd been lead to expect.

I am not patient, and this is difficult.

Tessa is sick and I'm scared

We are back from Orcas Island tonight; we got home about 5pm.

Tessa has had a fever since our first day on Orcas. It spiked at 103.7 (digital mouth therm.) on Saturday, and it's remained above 100 for days. We have been on the phone almost every day with the nurse at our local clinic, and yesterday we took Tessa to the doctor on Orcas Island. He couldn't find anything wrong, other than her fever, lethargy, achiness, and lack of appetite.

Tessa has spent much of the past week -and it's been a full week- lying in my arms, sleeping, or sitting still, not even wanting stories. She rallies for a couple of hours to play Play-Doh or something, and then she drops off again. She naps for hours each day, multiple times per day. Over the past two days, when she should have been getting better, she has gotten worse than before. She doesn't even want to hear stories, she just sits with a glassy look most of the time. She slept the entire ferry ride, she slept on the way home, she asked to go to bed as soon as we got home.

We made an appointment with our local doctor as soon as we got home, and we saw them at 6:20pm...I just got home 20 minutes ago.

Unexplained fever lasting a week is concerning. Tessa's urine tests come out normal, and her eyes, ears, nose, mouth all look normal. Her breathing is normal, her heart sounds good. Finally, we had to do a blood draw (Tessa cried and shook in my arms, allowing the test to happen but still screaming "Stop! Please stop!" and it was awful) and now we are awaiting the test results. Her in-ear temp was 102.5 today.

It's 50/50 right now if we have to go to Children's Hospital tonight for more tests....x-rays and scans. This makes me sick to my stomach. I know what x-rays can look for, and it's not all about broken bones. I've had too many scans not to be scared at their mention.

I should hear test results by 10pm - they rushed the blood over to Children's Hospital with a "stat" order...a courrier was coming to get it. If the blood counts indicate a virus, we're in the clear (it won't mean that Tessa's better, just that it's "just a virus") and if the CBC doesn't indicate a virus then we don't know what it means, and we'll have to do more tests to rule everything out.

Please pray that my daughter is well. Please wish, hope, cross your fingers, send good thoughts, and pray that she is healthy, and that this is "just one of those things" and nothing to be concerned about. Please pray that I will be strong and steady and able to smile for her, and that my fears will not show, and that I will be brave so that she can be brave.

I'm so scared.

Return of the muffin-top

(I really must be the extrovert that I think I am....am I really writing about this online?!)

My muffin-top is back. ARGH! I have been off program, eating whatever I feel like pretty much, and my clothes are tight again. Today I stepped on the scale, and it told me what I already knew....some pounds have crept back on. Dang it!

I can't stand the muffin top. Talk about unflattering - ugh. And the low-rise style that has been so popular is the WORST for someone with a muffin top. And have I mentioned that it's summer and I want to wear clothes that are more revealing - shorts, tank-tops, and even bathing suits? And that I promised myself to wear a bikini all summer? Bikinis and muffin-tops are mortal enemies, that's certain, and they shouldn't be in the same room together. DRAT!

So, hoping to cut my losses, I'm back on Weight Watchers. I'm announcing it publicly in the hope that it will keep me honest, and also to inspire anyone else who is struggling with weight loss....if I can do it, they can too. There's nothing "magic" about how I lost my 40 pounds, and there's nothing "magic" about how I put 10 back on. The only magic is in how I will feel when I lose those pounds again! I know what to do, and how to do it. Time to begin!

Ryan's high school reunion is coming up this summer (end of July) and I completely intend to be the hot wife. I WILL meet my goal, wear a pretty dress, and look good in it. :-)

It's unfortunate that my truth to myself (it's not like these pounds leapt on to my body overnight, and my clothes have been telling me for a few weeks) today, the day before a week at Orcas Island, but that's okay. Better to discover it now than to eat like Bacchas all week and add on even more. Time to pay the piper!

Love,
Kristina

Catching my breath

Life goes by in such a whirlwind that I sometimes wonder when the earth started spinning at double speed; each day is filled to the brim with so many things to do, and we cram as much into the day as possible, but still, every day we run out of time. This is both a blessing and a curse: we're NEVER bored, usually tired, always busy. This is how I like it, but sometimes I just wish that I could slow things down.

Right now, I'm doing my best to do that.

Preschool is finished for the year, swimming lessons are finished for a while (I've decided to spend pool time with Tessa this summer without official lessons), the Race is over, my major 3-Day fundraising events are over (though I am still soliciting funds - I am well short of my goal and would TRULY appreciate any support you can give), I've survived my MRI...and it's time to catch my breath.

Yesterday Tessa and I went to soccer class, then hung out afterwards for a leisurely play-time at the park's play structure nearby, then met friends for coffee in the Junction. The afternoon was reserved for chores, and then we met 3-Day friends at Greenlake for a walk around the lake. After Greenlake, I dropped Tessa off at Ryan's office and they caught the bus home (a grand adventure for TK!), and I went to a Young Survivor's meeting at Gilda's Club. This may seem like a busy day to some, but to me it was a breath of fresh air! We weren't rushed, we spent lots of time out of doors, and I got a bit caught up around the house. A great day, overall.

Today, we went to the gym (I ran on the treadmill while Tessa and Zoe played at the kids' gym), then we hopped in the car and went to the zoo. I'd packed a picnic, and so we had fun hanging out in the grass for our lunch, watching the other families, eating, and even running around some. I brought bubbles, and while I packed up our blanket etc. the girls had a great time blowing bubbles everywhere - such a simple pleasure! We walked all over the zoo - including the incredible butterfly garden - until the girls complained about how tired they were, and then hopped into the car to go to Alki to meet Jenny and drop Zoe off. We came home, did chores for an hour (Tessa was content to hang in her room) and then Heather and kids came over for a simple grilled dinner, more bubble blowing, tree climbing, and relaxing in the back yard (Ryan's out for a bike ride tonight, and Heather's hubby was at a soccer game).

Re-reading this, I realize that I'm as busy as ever...it's just that I don't feel deadlines so much, I don't feel pressure to hurry up, and so many of these activities are for the pure joy of experiencing them with Tessa. These are lovely days, lovely moments, and I am savoring them.

A small moment today: Tessa, as is absolutely appropriate in the summer, was absolutely filthy by evening - her feet were black with dirt, her fingernails thick with dirt as well, smudges of (homemade raspberry orange) popsicle on her face, and a tangle of grass in her hair. It was definitely a bath night - at this rate EVERY night is bath night - and so we took her hair down from the loose bun it had been in, and she hopped into the tub. Down from it's elastic, her hair was full of loose waves, streaked with the colors of honey, straw, sand, and wheat, and I was struck in that moment by her incredible beauty - clear skin, wide, laughing eyes, long legs, and golden body from the sun (despite SPF 50!). It's a mother's pride, certainly, but I don't mean to boast, simply to say that I was struck by my daughter, and she took my breath away with her beauty. Often, I am too busy or it's too chaotic or I'm too preoccupied to really see her in this way, but today I felt that I could see her clearly, and I could enjoy what I was seeing rather than seeing the task list that is usually floating in my vision. (I know that every parent believes his/her child beautiful, and this is only natural and right. It's just that often I'm too busy wiping her face, correcting her manners, dealing with her protests as I brush her hair, or hurrying her up to enjoy her, and today I was able to enjoy her.) She had an impish smile as she jumped into the tub, and I had a wave of satisfaction wash over me that such simple things could be so beautiful and pleasureable. She was smiling and laughing as she took that gorgeous head of summer streaked hair and dunked it into the water over and over, and as she carelessly scrubbed the dirt from her feet, and something about it was absolutely perfect.

No doubt I will find myself struggling not to raise my voice again as soon as tomorrow begins ("Don't do that to the cat!" "Do NOT dump food on the floor!" "I told you several times already you may NOT have chocolate for breakfast, and that's final!" etc.) but I hope that I can carry the simple pleasures of the evening into the next day.

In almost every way, I'm trying to catch my breath. I'm trying to remind myself that I do not have to be go-go-going every minute of the day, and that I can lead a full, rich life even when sitting still. My diagnosis has made me oh-so-aware of my mortality, and I struggle to face that mortality and accept it, and part of that (for me) has included a need to cram as much into each day as humanly possible, so that if my time on earth must be short, then at least it will be full. I don't allow time to slip by without noticing it, because I KNOW that every minute is precious. When I waste my time, or use it poorly, I feel the loss in a way that I never did before. And, I have to say, it's exhausting. This living fully wears me out sometimes, even though it's what I want.

I do all the volunteer work and fundraising because I must; I must make my life meaningful; I must find a way to channel my cancer energy into something positive and worthwhile. Still, it's a hard way to live sometimes, being this hyper-aware all the time.

So, I'm trying to catch my breath. To slow down. To stay as long as we like in the butterfly enclosure at the zoo because we are having fun, and not rush to see every other exhibit. To make a simple meal rather than a more complex one, because then I can chat with Heather more than I spend time in the kitchen. To watch our children get covered in soapy bubbles and grass stains and not worry about it, just allow them to go a little crazy. To attend a survivor meeting and not worry about staying out too late, to not worry about keeping it deep and finding meaning, but just laughing with other women who "get it."

Next week we'll go to Orcas Island - some days just Tessa & I, with Ryan arriving on the weekend - and we will REALLY slow down. Nothing to do sounds pretty darn good. Reading books, going for runs, sipping coffee on the deck, soaking in the hot tub under the stars. I think I'll make pancakes one morning, too. Pancakes sound good to me today....decadent and slow, slightly impractical (unlike my Kashi Good Friends with nonfat milk and fruit that I have pretty uch EVERY morning for breakfast). Yes, I think that one day at the cabin I'll make pancakes, just because. We won't be in a rush, so why not?

Disjointed rambling, perhaps more than usual, but this is what I'm thinking of today. I hope that this evening finds you well, and that you're finding time to stargaze, to sip your coffee slowly, or to watch your daughter get good-and-dirty before bathtime.

I'm SO glad that it's summer!

Love,
Kristina

Race for the Cure

Today was The Day. It was a success! The I AM THE CURE program was wildly successful, and I'm grateful to have been a part of it.

I am exhausted. Absolutely bone tired. The stress of this week - Carmelia's fundraiser, Race for the Cure, and that horrible day of scans - has me completely wiped out.

Next week is a new week, filled with playdates, parks, pools, working out, walking Shep, and the like. I can't wait!

But now, at 2:20pm, I have to go lay down. Exhausted!

My love to Jenny, who ran with me, helped in a thousand ways, and cried with me when the time was right. xoxox

Love,
Kristina

PS I met a 33 year survivor today, as well as a number of 25+ year survivors. Some hugged me, and told me that one day I could walk in their group. They told me that I would make it. I choose to believe them!

It could have been me

Tonight I went out and celebrated my clean MRI with friends, Ryan, and Tessa. I am grateful with every cell of my body that the beast is at bay, and that I have been granted a reprieve. I've had far too many glasses of wine, eaten too much, and laughed deeply with my friends. I've kissed my daughter, held my husband tight. I have much to celebrate.

I came home tonight and read the following post on "the boards" from a young woman - beautiful, strong, positive - who is living with mets. I know it could have been me; I know that I could be in her shoes. I hate that this is what the disease does to people; I hate that anyone could possibly experience this level of grief.

I am eternally grateful that it's not me yet. I am resentful that it must be anyone. I know what breast cancer can do.

When you wonder if you should donate to "the cause," please remember this. Cancer isn't pink ribbons, it's this. It MUST be stopped.
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Tuesday night, I collapsed with a seizure at home. After several gruesome hours in emerg that I would not wish on a dog, I was diagnosed with nine massive tumours in my brain, which were causing quite a bit of swelling. They now have that under control for the moment and I am on a weekend pass home (hurray) on massive doses of drugs I cannot be bothered to pronounce - steroids, etc.Just to make it all more fun, my eight year old saw the whole thing. He is OK. I had this strange presentiment and luckily called a neighbour over who comforted him. My six year old heard my tortured breathing and is scared of me. Can someone please explain why this monster has to take everything away from me? I so wanted to protect them from this disgusting disease.Nancy, thank you for posting pictures of your head after whole brain radiation which I start on Monday. This site means so much because I knew exactly what my options were even as I lay in emerg. Bless you Nancy for your dignity and your courage and your humour in telling your story. You have no idea what it has meant to me over the last few days to have some idea what is ahead of me.I am remarkably fine considering that my brain looks like a train wreck on an CT. I have a perfectly normal neurological testing now. I seem to function fine. I was dragging my leg and that has gone away entirely.Victory? Well, I did have mine. As I lay gasping for air in this horrible seizure, I was, gruesomely, conscious. I could hear my own horrible breathing growing more and more infrequent. The only time I have ever heard someone breathe like that is when my grandmother died. I thought that was it for me. I have never wanted air so much. I could feel my husband's tears dripping down my face, and I chose to exhale and tell him that I loved him. I chose love over breath itself. Do the same if you have to. Be strong. You have all been so good to me over the last few months.

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Do you hate cancer as much as I do? Do something about it. Race for the Cure is tomorrow - join, donate, SOMETHING. You can donate to my 3-Day website using the link on the right. Do something. NOBODY should have to endure this. Nobody.

I HATE CANCER. This isn't a ploy, this isn't a scam, this is just the way it is. And I hate it.

It could have been me. I have been granted a reprieve, but it could have been me.

No evidence of malignancy - Tears of JOY!

At 11:50am I couldn't stand it any longer, I had to call.

I got put on hold.

Then, after I explained what I was looking for, I got put on hold again.

Then, the receptionist came back and said that the results were ready but I'd have to wait until they faxed them over.

Hold again.

At this point, I was shaking and near a nervous breakdown. Scenerio after scenerio played out in my head. I was parked near Qwest, waiting to go do my volunteer work, and I thought "if it's cancer how will I get this done? How will I do my job today and tomorrow?" which was the first thing that popped into my head, but not nearly as scary as "How could I ever put my family through this again? I don't feel strong enough yet. I'm so scared..." and then the fear stuck and it was just a vibration of fear running through my body.

More holding. More shaking.

To distract myself, I played a little game. "I'll turn on the radio, and whatever song is playing will tell me the answer to my question: am I okay?" I know this is stupid, but I needed SOME kind of distraction.

The song that was playing? "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley. "You must be crazy," it told me. Well, yes, I knew that already, and didn't need the radio to tell me.

She came back, calling, "Are you still there?" "Yes," I whispered. Now I was really shaking.

She said, "Mumble mumble mumble Dr. Rinn's out of the office so we had another doc take a look but mumble mumble mumble mumble there's no evidence of malignancy. Oh, I'm sorry, I should have said THAT first!"

I broke down and cried, and then, embarrassed, told her that I didn't know why I was crying for GOOD news.

GOOD news. Thank God. This was really, really scary.

And then I went and did set-up at Qwest Field for I AM THE CURE. The race is going to be a HUGE success tomorrow and I can't wait to see it all come together!

Thank you to those of you who went through it with me, and who sent out prayers and thoughts. We've made it through another round, and now we can enjoy the sunshine.

(I hate cancer.)

Love,
Kristina

by noon

I should find out by noon. I'll count on 1pm. By then, I'll know.

I'll be at Qwest Field at that time, but I will update the blog when I have answers...

nothing to report

With a little help from Ativan, I made it through the day yesterday. I don't have any news; they told me that they'd have results in 24-48 hours. I'll start calling at noon today, as I do not have the patience to wait until Monday with this hanging over my head.

I alternate between demobilizing fear and the belief that all is well.

Today I'm off to set up for Race for the Cure, which is tomorrow. I'm excited to see our work come to its culmination - I believe we are doing good things. I AM THE CURE! :-)

interview link

My KJAQ interview is now online:
http://965jackfm.com/pages/505554.php

I'm having a hard day. I can't get the MRI out of my head. But now...I'm off to get ready for the Carmelia's fundraiser (for the 3-Day) tonight. Hopefully that will make me feel better!

Scary thoughts

I just posted this on my survivor website (after a hiatus, I felt drawn to return), and thought I'd risk posting it here.

For friends and family to read this concerns me; I don't want to unnecessarily freak anyone out. The odds are, likely, in my favor that I'm worrying over "nothing." My oncologist has good reason to believe that what I'm worried about is not the case, and I trust her opinions.

But, annually, I have to go for a series of scans. As Thursday approaches, I am a bundle of nerves and emotion. Actually, just trying to identify what those emotions are, to describe them here on my blog, gives me a sudden urge to throw up. I'm pretty sure that I've over-used the word "terrified" on this blog, but it's all I can come up with. My approaching scan terrifies me.

I hate that I'm saying that. I hate that I have not rounded some corner from which I can look back, glowing with wisdom, to inspire those who are behind me in this journey. I'm in a position to inspire women through my work on the 3-Day, the Race for the Cure, and the local Komen office, as well as through Genentech, and I've spent a good deal of the last week telling listeners on the radio how well I feel and how glad I am to have this behind me. MOST of the time, that's true. My life is a testament to how well I feel. But today I find myself, literally, quaking with fear.

So here's the post I wrote to my survivor "friends" on the internet. They have applauded my honesty, and this gives me courage. I think it's important to be honest here, too, despite my best desire to be 100% PollyAnna and to cure myself through positive thinking (ha!).

To those of you who are following behind me, know that this is only part of the truth. Today's fear is palpable (just like a lump...did I really just use that word?!) but hopefully the relief will be just as strong, and then I will be ready to fight for the masses again.
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I have not had an MRI in two years, since my initial diagnosis. I have been in recon for a year, so we put it off, and now it's time.

I have a number of small lumps. Tiny, sand-like ones in my incision on the healthy side, and a larger (inch?) one also on the healthy side. We (oncologist and I) suspect that the tiny sand-like ones are sutures that have scar tissue around them, and that the larger one is the edge of the implant. They're relatively new; I only did my implant exchange on Mar 2 and they're since then. I've had regular clinical exams, and my tumor markers are on the low side of normal with a downward trend.

But I won't know that I'm okay until we get it checked out.

I'm scared. My first MRI was a horrible experience...how can anyone enjoy that cold, loud, claustrophobic tube? And knowing that you are there to Look For Cancer? It's creepy, surreal, and awful.I have five appointments on Thursday: oncologist, Herceptin, MRI, MUGA, and physical therapy. I haven't had a day like that in a long time and being in Cancerland that long is freaking me out. Worrying about the lumps is freaking me out.

I haven't felt this scared in a while. I know that it's normal, and that most people freak out for their yearly scans. Knowing that doesn't make it easier, even though it should.I will be asking for an Ativan or equivalent at my onc meeting. I can't go from 8:40am (first appointment) until 4:45pm (end of last appointment) in Cancerland without some help. I can not lie in that tube without screaming without a little help. I'm worried that I will get even a false positive - not unlikely - and that I will lose my mind. I'm worried that I will re-experience my first MRI and hear "Sorry but yes you have cancer and it's more than we thought and probably in the nodes" and that I will have to face another year of torture when I'm most trying to put it all behind me. I am Freaking OUT!

Where's my inner PollyAnna? I need her right now and she's deserting me?!This weekend is Race for the Cure and I'm rolling out I AM THE CURE in Seattle at that program. I have a fundraiser tomorrow night for the 3-Day. I have a survivor support group next week. I'm training again (sciatic appears healed) and ran 50 minutes today for the first time in weeks. I spent part of the day at the beach with my daughter. So why am I doing this to myself? I'm channeling my energy in positive ways but inside I'm a mess.

I'm in a position through my work with Komen to "inspire" women. I've been doing radio and newspaper interviews, and I'm becoming a local voice for Komen. So why, today, do I feel like a sham? I feel like I'm totally faking it and that if anybody knew what I was really thinking I'd scare them instead of inspiring them.

So, ladies, I'm throwing it out to you. Can someone please talk me down? Or remind me that, most likely, by the end of the day on Thursday I will know that things are okay?