A horse is sitting on me

Obviously not literally. And Shep has nothing to do with this. But it does feel like a horse is sitting on the bottom half of my rib cage. No danger of me forgetting my pain meds.

(No danger of ODing, either, as I'm writing down when I take them.)

Still well

My brain is decidedly "high" from drugs but I'm not complaining. I feel vits of aches from my chest, but bearable.

The guest room is comfortable. Ryan brought me a lovely meal. I've got what I need.

Here I am for a few days.

Thanks for your thoughts and prayers. Still pray for my patience - the new foobs are in the right place, and I suspect that they're doing better....but they're a mess. It's a two step process, etc. Sigh. "Pretty" isn't in the vocabularly yet.

Good night, all.

Home from surgery

Best as I can tell things went well.

Im high as a kite, bumping into walls, etc. No pain yet. Just took meds.

Settled in ot ht guets room. Ready to hunker down...

Today is the day

I'm almost ready. The guest room is ready, the bathroom is ready, the laundry is folded, the fridge is stocked. The dishwasher is running. The beds are made.

I'm wearing clothes that I can put on without lifting my arms.

I have the packet of doctor-info.

Tessa just joyfully left with Kerri & Sari, off for a day of adventure.

Ryan brought me tulips.

Now I'm waiting. This is why I prefer early check-in.....waiting around all morning, feeling thirsty and unable to drink and unable to have my morning coffee, is not the greatest. Too much anxiety.

I will probably take another pill this morning. But yesterday it totally knocked me out! I slept on the couch, fully clothed, last night. Whoaaaa. Ryan couldn't stir me.

Here we go.

Whoa that stuff is good

Ativan, that is.

I won't be driving anywhere anytime soon.

But I no longer feel like climbing the walls and throwing up (simultaneously), at least.

That sick feeling

Uh oh, here I go again.

I feel gross. Sick to my stomach.

It's the pre-surgery jitters. Time to take a some kind of anti-anxiety meds and sink onto the couch. Ryan will be home soon.

Today was a good day. I saw friends, did therapy, got some stuff done.

But now I feel sick.

Thank you for your love and prayers. This time tomorrow, with any luck, I'll be home again, recovering. I think (hope) that the anticipation is worse than the pain.

Please include Tessa and Ryan in your prayers. Tessa needs to remember that she is a child, and should be free from adult worries. I need her to feel at peace, loved and cared for, unconcerned as to outcomes or "what ifs." Ryan needs to feel loved and supported, too, as he has extra burdens in caring for our household as I hibernate.

Ugh my head hurts. I think I'd better go take that pill before it's too late. Here we go......

Countdown

24 hours from now I will be getting ready to go to the hospital.

Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat....repeat....repeat....

Today will be busy. This morning is PEPS at Heather's (which Tessa and I will both love), then while Tessa is at preschool I will go visit my beloved brilliant shrink, who will (hopefully) help me to whip my brain into shape for this surgery. (Or is it my heart she puts into shape? Hard to tell the difference, really.) I also need to dust, vacuum, grocery shop, and fold the last load of laundry. And one more coat of paint on the bathroom stuff.

I wasn't kidding when I said I'm nesting. It helps me so much to have things in place - it gives me the sense of order in a disorderly world. And I desperately want that sense of order.

The other thing we'll do today is celebrate Shep's 2nd birthday. We don't know exactly when his birthday is, but it's sometime around now, and he does seem a perfect April Fool. He is getting two new squeaky toys that he loves (the others will be retired to the trash - he chews them to bits), and as our tradition, he'll get a meat-cake. We make him a big hamburger, stick candles in it and Tessa will sing to him and blow out his candles before he gobbles the whole thing up as fast as he can.

And on another note....

I just got a call from someone at WSUU, promising hot meals, offering thoughts and prayers, and giving kindness. I am grateful to be a member of this community. More and more, it is becoming community to me, and not just a place I attend once a week. I have made a good decision in this regard, and I am grateful to have it in my life.

By next Sunday, I hope I'm well enough to go to services. Something to look forward to.

And on that note - off to PEPS.
Love,
Kristina

Hanging in there

Today went relatively well.

As is becoming typical for me, I took on a little house project today. I think this is like nesting prior to having a baby - I know that I'll be out of it for a while and it's better for me to have the house in shape for that. I've been trying to get laundry caught up, do little projects, organize things.

And today I painted the downstairs bathroom cabinet - it was a gross wood that had seen better days and looked very dark and dingy, and now it's a nice crisp white with new hardware. A major improvement. I'll be using that bathroom when I'm staying in the guestroom, and it will make me smile each time I see the crisp white. I haven't been able to paint the entire bathroom yet, but I will do that after surgery.

And tonight, thanks to Heather's kindness in caring for Tessa, Ryan and I went on a date.

Now I'm home, tired, and ready for bed.

Really, today could have been worse. It helped to keep busy.

Joys and Sorrows

Today at church, during the brief sharing which preceeds the service, I shared my sorrows.

It felt good to say Cathy O'Brien's name out loud in a sacred space. Today one of the musical interludes was an Irish sounding soung on a guitar and a harmonica, and it somehow reminded me of her and felt fitting, like I'd been able to attend her funeral almost. I held her close to my heart and meditated on some of the words she's written on YSC and her impact upon me.

I shared Cathy's passing, and how sorrowed I am by it, with the congregation. As tears slipped out, I also said, "She was diagnosed two months before me, and though I'm healthy now, I'm so frightened that I might follow in her footsteps."

I also shared that I am dreading my upcoming surgery. Three years (almost) of fighting. I'm so tired of fighting. I want peace.

The congregation was kind. I was hugged, approached, smiled at. I was told that I would be held in thoughts, that I would be prayed for, that they would meditate on my healing. Different people spoke to me in different ways, all kind. This is a fellowship at its best.

It helps me to share. That's why I share so much here, too. It makes me feel less alone in my fight. Maybe my pain will lessen someone else's by making them feel less alone in their struggles, whatever they may be.

But then I came home and took an anti-anxiety pill, which is still not taking effect. I have an acid-reflux feeling in my belly that I'm certain is a fit of nerves. It took a lot out of me to speak today, to admit my fear out loud (harder than in writing, for me at least), to cry pubicly.

Sigh.

A new day

The traditional day of rest.

This morning Tessa is snuffly with allergies and Ryan awoke with a migraine. Tessa's slow to get up but will be fine; Ryan took Immitrex and hopefully he'll be fine in an hour or two. I'm still reeling from the news of Cathy but I am prepared to make it a new day.

We also got excellent news yesterday. Tessa will be attending Alki Elementary School next year - our first choice! The letters went out early, as I didn't expect to hear for a week or two. She's delighted by this, as she had it in her head that it was where she wanted to go, because "big kids" Emma and Liam go there, and because her friends Jessie & Zoe will go there (when Zoe returns from Panama, anyway).

Now, off to rouse Tessa. I really, really want to attend church this morning - my soul needs a little rest.

Love,
Kristina

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

A Story of Hope

I posted this on the YSC yesterday, and then thought maybe my readers here would appreciate the story.

West Seattle is a small place. If the woman in question reads this post, or if I've inadvertantly identified her in some way (I do wish to respect her privacy), please forgive me or contact me and I'll remove the post if it offends. But I want to offer thanks to that woman for her incredible gifts and wisdom. The women of YSC have all responded with love toward her, and wishes to meet her, to be like her. Lady, you are greatly admired, and you've offered a lot of girls hope. Thank you for that.

In the sea of bad news that has been hitting my cancer community, this is of great comfort to me.

Here's the post.
--------------
For once, I was at the gym today.

I was standing next to my locker, and a woman came in beside me. She had obviously had double mastectomies. Because I often speak without thinking, I said, "I'm a breast cancer survivor. Are you, too?" and she was very open to the conversation and said "Yes" and shared quite a bit of her story.

The short version? Diagnosed at age 40. She's 72 now. She's a 32 year survivor! Hurrah! Paget's disease of the nipple, and her doctors initially gave her 6 months to live. She demanded a mastectomy (which they initially didn't want to do for some reason), refused chemo and radiation, and did naturopathic treatments. (Not what I would do, but it's obviously working for her!)

She had a recurrance a few years later, and repeated treatment on the other side....another mastectomy, again refused chemo or radiation, again did naturopathic treatments.She mentioned that she'd had a hysterectomy due to an unrelated cancer, much later, as well.

She said she never considered reconstruction. She said, "My husband never touched me again after the mastectomy. He was a fool. I've had several intimate sexual relationships since then" (I loved her candor - not what I expected of a woman of her generation!) "and I tell them up front: I want a man, not a boy. If you're here for the boobs, get lost!" and that has worked quite well for her.

She said she often forgot that she had mastectomies, and sometimes forgets her prosthesis, which is only "important" to her when she's going to the office.

(It could have gone the other way. She could have been offended by my questions, and by my obvious noticing of her double mastectomies. But she was not, she was very open. And, just to be fair, I flashed her pretty well, also!)

I admired her more than I could say. I thanked her for the hope she offered me, but I wish I'd thanked her for sharing her love of her own body and her understanding of her own self worth and sexual prowess. There we were, naked in the locker-room, and this woman did not have the body of a Roman goddess, more of a Gaia-mother-goddess. But make no mistake, she was a goddess in form. It shone from her eyes.

I wanted to share with you girls, and as soon as I could post today, that's what I'm doing.

My wish for all of us - to live that long. To feel that comfortable in our bodies. To feel joy in our sexual relationships. To feel confident in our choices. To forget that we had mastectomies (or chemo or whatever). To be confident in the locker rooms, regardless of our size, shape, and breasts (or lack thereof). To share our success with strangers who have the nerve to approach us, so that they can feed from our joy.

I hope this story gives all of us hope. Those with dire predictions as to our survival, those who have recurred, and those who hope to never repeat our experiences. Those who have already found supportive partners....and those of us who WILL find supportive partners.

It gave ME hope, so I'm sharing.

Frugality

I haven't forgotten all the frugal stuff I'd been blogging about, I've just been distracted.

Plus, I fell off the wagon a little bit. Not a lot, but a little bit. We ordered out a couple of times. I didn't use everything in my fridge.

But I'm vowing to be on top of it again.

Right now, the French Canadian Split Pea soup is bubbling on the stove. This uses the bone (with some meat on it, but no longer the right dimensions for slicing for sandwiches, etc.) and wastes nothing, and I'm pleased with that. This is the soup my mom made when I was a kid, and I love it. I soaked the split peas overnight last night, and today the hambone/ham, split peas, onion, bay leaf, celery, and water are bubbling away on my stove, simmering for 2-3 hours before I add carrots and seasonings and serve with a side of bread.

Speaking of bread, still making my own. Mostly, it's delicious.

I shopped for the split peas. First, went to the aisle with that stuff, scoped out the prices. Then went to bulk foods, and double checked. Definitely a better deal bulk - $.89/pound instead of $1.49/pound. I don't know how a $.60 savings is going to change much, but it's something. Perhaps more important is that the meal itself is so economical and healthy. (Okay, maybe honey baked ham isn't healthy. Okay, so it's not. But with the split peas and other veggies....?)

I ditched my Swiffer mop and got a washable one. That was the last disposable product in the house, so that will save money long term and be better for the environment. (I got rid of the Swiffer one on Freecycle.)

I'm remembering to carpool more. To drink coffee at home more. To consolidate more errands. To stay out of shops (though I've been thrift shopping a bit).

I'm FAR from perfect. But I'm on a path, and trying to find comfort in that.

Good Mommy

Well, the days countdown until my surgery is on,and I'm determined to be a good mommy. Today Tessa went to kids' gym at the Y (which she loves....it's ME who struggles to go and work out these days) with Jessie and Zoe, and then we all loaded up in Katie's car and went to the Science Center. We just got back, tired and ready for a quiet evening at home.

I'm about to make a soup with the leftover hambone from Easter, and we'll have a simple dinner.

Tomorrow we have no scheduled activities until a hang-out and movie night (at home) with friends Michele & Dave, and it is actually nice to have such a low-key weekend in the works. We'll attend church as a family, too, but that's about it.

Big sigh of relief - we're all tired. Ryan's home safe from Austin, Tessa's struggling with fatigue from allergies, and I'm just struggling.

Still fakin' it, trying to make it. I'm doing a lot better than on some days, although I'm more tired than usual by these little efforts. While Ryan was gone I would tuck Tessa into bed at 8:15 or 8:30 and then go IMMEDIATELY to my own bed, reading (I'm on my third Jane Austin book now, having finished Sense and Sensibility, and also finishing Pride and Prejudice, I've moved on to Mansfield Park) before falling asleep well in advance of 10pm (usually before 9:30pm!) and then struggling to get up before 8am.

I'm realizing that my thyroid may be off...looking into that.

My therapist also gave me a talking to/lecture about exercise. I broke down crying, saying "I wanted to run a marathon and this stupid surgery sets me back every time and I'm just so frustrated I don't have the energy to do anything right now!" to which she (kindly) laughed and pointed out that I'd set the bar rather high for myself. She was thinking of a 20 minute walk each day, and I'm thinking of a marathon. Sigh. This is, all too often, how I judge myself.

Yesterday I took Shep for a good long walk for a couple of miles, and listened to a podcast of WSUU sermon called "Fear of Falling" from a Sunday that I'd missed. The sermon was PERFECT for me (go to iTunes and search on WSUU and you can download it for free if you're interested) and actually had me crying tears of empathy, relief, and irony because I related so well to the messages in it. (Good thing I walk a different way each time I go, that way I can convince all of West Seattle that I'm crazy, as I laugh or cry and listen to my iPod!)

And so I'm trying. I am a Good Girl and I Do What I Am Told is Good For Me. My therapist told me to work out more to raise endorphins etc. etc. and I am. I know what to do and I do as I'm told. That doesn't mean I like it, doesn't mean it's easy, doesn't mean taht I feel instant results,but it DOES mean that I'm trying. I'm trying very, very, very hard to make my life the life I'd like it to be.

Therapy

A good therapist is worth her weight in gold. At last, I have a good one.

Today was a good session. She allows me my fears, and then helps me with them.

The fears are still there. They'll never go away. But I'm learning how to manage them.

Fakin' it and Makin' It

This morning Tessa and I went back to Bellevue, this time to meet Caley for a coffee date. Caley and I talked and Tessa was a dream, reading her books and drawing and allowing us to catch up. Then, when Caley left for an appointment, Tessa and I lunched with Molly and caught up with her. Now we're home, and I'm cleaning - this place needs a good scrub and the laundry needs folding.

Oh - and I found a great belt to go with my black dress, for $1.50 on sale at the thrift shop.

I have not forgotten my fears. I have not forgotten about Mama Cath. But what can I do? So I hug Tessa, visit with friends, buy a belt, clean my house.

To some degree, it works. It's distracting, and that's good. It certainly doesn't make me forget, but it tempers the pain, and that is excellent.

So here I am, muddling through. Learning. Growing. Growing pains are harder than I remembered.

Stomachaches

Today Tessa is MUCH better. We went to a Dahl ladies' family lunch, then surprised Melissa and Ross with a pop-in to their office at the church just around the corner. This afternoon we took care of Kelton and Camille, and Anna is here now. These things are good.

What's not so good is that there are several girls on YSC who are crashing. Jessica was someone I didn't know well, but she was posting her treatment plans earlier this month, and today she died. She DIED! Last night she was struggling, but still cracking jokes with her husband, and now she's gone. Another girl is drugged to the state of being incoherent, something with her spinal fluid....could it be....? And Mama Cath is slipping away. She can no longer drink through a straw, and hasn't had solid food in quite some time. She only takes water through a syringe that her loving husband feeds to her. She is incoherent and sleeps most of the time. Her three year old is watching his mother slip away.

And it is NOT OKAY. It's NOT OKAY! I yell to the universe, I AM NOT OKAY WITH THIS! I DO NOT ACCEPT THIS!

So, I have a psychosomatic stomachache. I'm not sick, really. But I am deeply, truly, sick of this.

What is my fate? Will I, too, one day be laughing, and the next be dying?

Oh, such morbid questions. I'd love to reply with something like "I'm too stubborn to die right now" but it just doesn't work like that.

I hope to live to be old. But the injustices of the world sometimes make me hurt too much. It's too much.

How's that for depressing? Sorry, dear readers. Some days are like that.

Still, my friends are kind, my house is warm (hey! I adjsuted to 66 degrees!), my family large and loving. I am listening to Tessa and Anna delight in one another and their made up game of baby gymnastics daycare. The world is not ending, even when my heart is cracking open.

Monday again

Okay, my kiddo can't seem to catch a break.

Today was Zoe's Build-a-Bear rescheduled party, and though Tessa wasn't feeling great we went together. Tessa was very, very quiet, even though she was excited to be with her friends and to get a new toy. She asked me to carry her, though Jessie and Zoe were skipping and having fun. She fell asleep....at 11:30 in the morning....in the car on the way home, even though we were with friends.

I'm so tired of this. I feel awful that she feels so crummy!

So, we've canceled going to gymnastics class. We've canceled having Anna over for a playdate (which was also going to help Beth out). Tessa and I will stay home from the engagement party for Melissa and Ross at the Surface7's tonight. Arghhhhhh!

So, Tessa's watching Clifford and I'm doing chores.

We visited the pharmacist today to talk about side effects. I'm scheduling the appointment with the allergist. We're calling back the doctor. We still think it's allergies, and so we're checking it out fully.

Yuck.

Happy Easter

Happy Easter, everyone.

I got up early to make an Easter brunch dish - a cinnamon swirl (very much like cinnamon rolls, but in a log shape) using the bread machine to make the dough, and then had the luxury of enjoying my coffee in bed before Tessa awoke. Of course, the girl woke up with bright eyes and filled with thoughts of the Easter Bunny. Ryan and I moved our coffee to the living room, and watched Tessa hunt for eggs (and I've experimented with a small video of that subject here on the blog). You'll see from the pictures that Tessa runs hot like Daddy, and insisted on unbuttoning her PJs. Whatever. ;-)

This year, for the first time since Tessa was born, we did NOT host an Easter brunch. When I announced to PEPS that I just wasn't up for it this year, Linda graciously stepped up and handled the whole thing. Hooray for Linda! I showed up as a guest, grateful to see all the kids do the egg hunt, grateful that I wasn't hosting.

Pictures include Tessa and Anna in polka-dot dresses (no they didn't plan that but they loved the coincidence), Tessa and Ryan, a family shot, and a rare shot of myself (look at that hair growth - amazing what two years and three months of growth looks like). Tonight I'll try to get a cute Easter shot of Tessa with her hair combed, but today she put in her own ponytail and I didn't have the heart to undo her handiwork.

Now we're having down time - we're all tired, all fighting allergies or something. We forgot to give Tessa her meds before the egg hunt, and by 1pm she said, "My head hurts" and she burst into tears. Maybe it was too much sugar, but I actually really think that the Claritin (sp?) is working. We caught up her dosage, Daddy read her stories, and now she's watching a pony movie. I'm not a big fan of TV/screen time, but I think that in this case it's what we all need - a little zoning out time. Tessa feels much better now - a good reminder to keep her on the allergy meds.

I'm getting ready for my parents to come to dinner. We are having honey ham, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, potatoes au gratin, and cobbler with ice cream (my new favorite/easy dessert). Oh, and of course, deviled eggs for an appetizer. I'll have to get pictures of Tessa's dyed eggs before we crack them all open.

I'm tired. Everything takes more energy than it should. It's surgery that does it, I think. With each surgery, my lead time is longer and harder where I obsess about it and fear it and dwell on negative thoughts. Is this inevitable? Perhaps. Knowing it's not even the last surgery, and that I'll come out of this with the hated expanders, makes it just that much worse.

But it's Easter, a time for joy and celebration, and I'm trying to focus on that. The tulips are blooming in the garden, the lilac is full of buds, and these signs of hope remind me that time passes. The days are longer, and that helps, too.

I hope by April 10 I will be feeling somewhat normal. Until then, if I can just hang on by my fingernails, that's all I ask for.

Anti-anxiety vs Anti-depressant drugs

I've had a couple of friends ask me the same questions now, so I'm going to clarify.

I take an anti-depressant (Lexapro) every single day, at the same time, and I have since my meltdown in October. Anti-depressants work over time as regulators for mood, and you can't take them as-needed. I take mine daily, without fail.

My new prescription is for an anti-anxiety drug (Klonopin). This is for when I feel absolutely panicky and overwhelmed and unable to cope, and is used as needed....like when I have to schedule surgery and I'm freaking out. This is the drug I only take on occassion, and sparingly.

I point out the difference because more than one friend has been concerned that I'm taking anti-depressants "as needed" and I want to assure my readers that I know better, and that I'm sorry I miscommunicated that in some way.

I long for the days when I didn't take any drugs, avoiding even ibuprofen. Those days are gone.