...I wait. ....and I wait. ....and I wait even more. I've started repeating mantras like "one day at a time" or "I can only do what I can do" or "be patient." None of them are helping my Type A, anxiety driven personality. I wake up every morning and the first thought is, "I hope she is better today." Then I make the phone call or go there to find out that no, she isn't any better today. The pain is gone, but there are lingering affects which are preventing her from healing... but more importantly they are preventing her from being her.
She doesn't much understand where everyone's concern comes from which strikes me as odd. My mom isn't just loved. Mom is worshipped by many. If there was ever a perfect mom, grandma, mother in law and probably wife, I'm sure my mom is a candidate for that. None of us can begin to comprehend how hard it's been for her to recover from treatment and surgery, but she can't seem to comprehend what is plaguing us. We worry and wait because we miss her. The person she was before the diagnosis.
We all continue to wait and hope that over time she will return to her full self. Today she is having more tests which will hopefully explain her continued nausea and vomiting. So, I sit here and I wait. I wait for the phone call to hear how she did and what the doctor has said. Once again, I'm sick and have been banned, for obvious reasons. It's hard to be here alone waiting but I'm sure it's worse sitting in a waiting room alone, where her husband is.
Sadly, I think that today my mom is expecting miracles to happen but I fear Dr. S isn't going to have the answers to her questions. My anxiety levels only continue to rise when I think about it. I fear she is never going to be the same. That she is never going to get better. That this is the life we're all going to have.
The best Christmas present I could hope for is her recovery to be speedy, that her tests today give her the definitive answers she's looking for and her mood changes on her own and not in a forced way to make the rest of us happy. I miss my mom but I'll wait as long as it takes and do whatever I can to make this all better for her. .....and I suspect that just means more waiting.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
This is More Difficult Than I Thought...
It has been said a thousand times, but you spend your youth trying NOT to get pregnant. Before you know it, you're ready to be a mom and you CAN'T get pregnant.
This isn't something I've ever really talked about. I don't know why really--- it's not that I am ashamed of it but I guess it's, well, painful. Recently, I've talked about it more because I have a few friends trying to get get pregnant and are experiencing some difficulty. Some for the first time, some for their second child. No matter when you are trying to get pregnant, there is nothing more stressful or heartbreaking. I have a handful of friends who needed reproductive assistance. When I was going through it, I realized that this was the dirty little secret that no one talked about. There are millions of couples struggling to get pregnant but no matter what, when you try month after month, you feel as though you are the only one.
My story isn't unique. My husband and i went through a series of tests but we ultimately fell under the "unexplained" category. We tried for nearly a year. I invested hundreds of dollars in pregnancy tests, ovulation predictor kits, books on fertility... You name it. I thought each of these items would be like finding the miracle diet pill. That boom, we would have sex and I'd get pregnant. I mean, that's how it's suppose to happen right?
Nothing made me feel less of a woman than not being able to get pregnant. Wow. That's a tough sentence to write but at least for me, it's the truth. As a woman, your body was made for this purpose and to not be able to get pregnant, made me feel useless. I did blame myself, which I know now is foolish. But, follow my train of thought... my husband had one test, just one which he passed with flying colors. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his sperm, so then if it's not him, it's got to be... me? Yeah.
Being an anxious person didn't help the process either. Please don't misunderstand, anxiety didn't cause me not to get pregnant, it just made it harder to deal with. Anxiety does not have anything to do with getting pregnant. If you are trying to get pregnant, repeat that to yourself as though it were a personal mantra. By the way, there are a number of things you don't say to someone trying to get pregnant:
1. Relax, it will just happen
2. You don't miss what you don't have
3. Not everyone is suppose to have kids
4. Can't you just adopt?
5. Do you really want to put your body through all this?
Those were my favorites. People don't mean to be insensitive, they are just trying to help. Most of these lines came from close friends and family so I know at the time they were being comforting-- it just didn't work. Chalk infertility up to one of those topics where you never know what the right thing to say is.
My husband was my rock. He was the only one I could turn to during all of the this. Some of the fertility tests were very painful but he was by my side. After much discussion with our reproductive endocrinologist, I chose to skip the option to take another pill and get right into the action. Our first attempt was to be an IUI (intrauterine insemination). This was going to require shots, frequent blood work and almost daily internal ultrasounds-- over a two week period.
I didn't complain-- not once. I knew what I was doing was important, but looking back now, I felt horrible all the time. The hormones made me sick and very tired. Our first attempt was fortunately our only attempt because I became pregnant with our daughter. I would do this all over again just to have her and I never doubt the decisions we made. Pregnancy was awesome. I didn't want to just become a mom, I wanted to be pregnant. I wanted to experience all the excitement. I remember it all like it was yesterday. My first trimester was difficult and I almost lost her a few weeks in, but it was first time that my maternal instinct kicked in and I knew she was going to be just fine.... even though at the time I was convinced she was a he.
This isn't something I've ever really talked about. I don't know why really--- it's not that I am ashamed of it but I guess it's, well, painful. Recently, I've talked about it more because I have a few friends trying to get get pregnant and are experiencing some difficulty. Some for the first time, some for their second child. No matter when you are trying to get pregnant, there is nothing more stressful or heartbreaking. I have a handful of friends who needed reproductive assistance. When I was going through it, I realized that this was the dirty little secret that no one talked about. There are millions of couples struggling to get pregnant but no matter what, when you try month after month, you feel as though you are the only one.
My story isn't unique. My husband and i went through a series of tests but we ultimately fell under the "unexplained" category. We tried for nearly a year. I invested hundreds of dollars in pregnancy tests, ovulation predictor kits, books on fertility... You name it. I thought each of these items would be like finding the miracle diet pill. That boom, we would have sex and I'd get pregnant. I mean, that's how it's suppose to happen right?
Nothing made me feel less of a woman than not being able to get pregnant. Wow. That's a tough sentence to write but at least for me, it's the truth. As a woman, your body was made for this purpose and to not be able to get pregnant, made me feel useless. I did blame myself, which I know now is foolish. But, follow my train of thought... my husband had one test, just one which he passed with flying colors. There was absolutely nothing wrong with his sperm, so then if it's not him, it's got to be... me? Yeah.
Being an anxious person didn't help the process either. Please don't misunderstand, anxiety didn't cause me not to get pregnant, it just made it harder to deal with. Anxiety does not have anything to do with getting pregnant. If you are trying to get pregnant, repeat that to yourself as though it were a personal mantra. By the way, there are a number of things you don't say to someone trying to get pregnant:
1. Relax, it will just happen
2. You don't miss what you don't have
3. Not everyone is suppose to have kids
4. Can't you just adopt?
5. Do you really want to put your body through all this?
Those were my favorites. People don't mean to be insensitive, they are just trying to help. Most of these lines came from close friends and family so I know at the time they were being comforting-- it just didn't work. Chalk infertility up to one of those topics where you never know what the right thing to say is.
My husband was my rock. He was the only one I could turn to during all of the this. Some of the fertility tests were very painful but he was by my side. After much discussion with our reproductive endocrinologist, I chose to skip the option to take another pill and get right into the action. Our first attempt was to be an IUI (intrauterine insemination). This was going to require shots, frequent blood work and almost daily internal ultrasounds-- over a two week period.
I didn't complain-- not once. I knew what I was doing was important, but looking back now, I felt horrible all the time. The hormones made me sick and very tired. Our first attempt was fortunately our only attempt because I became pregnant with our daughter. I would do this all over again just to have her and I never doubt the decisions we made. Pregnancy was awesome. I didn't want to just become a mom, I wanted to be pregnant. I wanted to experience all the excitement. I remember it all like it was yesterday. My first trimester was difficult and I almost lost her a few weeks in, but it was first time that my maternal instinct kicked in and I knew she was going to be just fine.... even though at the time I was convinced she was a he.
Recovery in 3 Acts: Act 1 Hope
I have avoided this blog for weeks--- and it hasn't gone unnoticed. At first, I kept telling myself I was very busy but that was my usual denial. I didn't want to face my fears and discuss all the emotion and noise in my head. When you begin to write it, you really feel it and I've spent the better part of my life (or at least the last 13 years) trying not to feel anything. I numb myself in anyway I know how.
November 15. It came, we saw, she conquered. My mom bravely fought what will hopefully be her last battle with Cancer. She had a successful surgery in which Dr. N declared her to be Cancer-free. CANCER FREE. We heard that term once before from Dr. S the oncologist but his came with the disclaimer that we won't know for sure until they open her up. When they did, there was nothing there and most importantly her lymph nodes looked good. We still patiently await the biopsy results but Dr. N and Dr. S are confident about her health and her long future.
Where was I on November 15? Home in bed. The Italian guilt did kick in.... as usual but not much could have been done.By an act of what I believe was divine intervention, I contracted some mutant alien version of strep throat which had me on anti-biotics, steroids and percocet. I slept through the surgery-- and mostly the day for that matter. I was completely knocked out by the pain killers which was good because looking back, I don't know who I was fooling but I wouldn't have been strong enough to survive the day. Even though I wasn't there, I was scared. I was scared for days leading up to the surgery. No longer in fear of the Cancer but in fear of the unknown. Surgery is risky and this was big. My psychosis is my worst enemy...
I didn't get to see my mom for nearly 8 days because I was sick. The last think I wanted to do was be responsible for spreading germs. Let's face it-- hospitals are the breeding grounds for disease as it is, no need to make it worse. She couldn't talk to me either which was hard. She was heavily medicated and in a great deal of pain. Two weeks later and she still is in a great deal of pain.
Trying to take care of her is an odd feeling-- not bad or good, just odd. I can't really verbalize all that I am going through right now. Being an only child she did(and still does to an extent) take care of me. I am happy to do it, but it gives me anxiety. I wonder if she is ever going to be the same after this surgery. Will she ever be the same mom she was. These are my real concerns.
I miss my mom. I am beyond words thankful that she is still here and fought this battle as hard as she did. Yet, at the same time, she's not here. I suppose all of this could be normal-- but nothing I feel is ever normal so who knows. One day at a time is all I can do. It's all we can do.
November 15. It came, we saw, she conquered. My mom bravely fought what will hopefully be her last battle with Cancer. She had a successful surgery in which Dr. N declared her to be Cancer-free. CANCER FREE. We heard that term once before from Dr. S the oncologist but his came with the disclaimer that we won't know for sure until they open her up. When they did, there was nothing there and most importantly her lymph nodes looked good. We still patiently await the biopsy results but Dr. N and Dr. S are confident about her health and her long future.
Where was I on November 15? Home in bed. The Italian guilt did kick in.... as usual but not much could have been done.By an act of what I believe was divine intervention, I contracted some mutant alien version of strep throat which had me on anti-biotics, steroids and percocet. I slept through the surgery-- and mostly the day for that matter. I was completely knocked out by the pain killers which was good because looking back, I don't know who I was fooling but I wouldn't have been strong enough to survive the day. Even though I wasn't there, I was scared. I was scared for days leading up to the surgery. No longer in fear of the Cancer but in fear of the unknown. Surgery is risky and this was big. My psychosis is my worst enemy...
I didn't get to see my mom for nearly 8 days because I was sick. The last think I wanted to do was be responsible for spreading germs. Let's face it-- hospitals are the breeding grounds for disease as it is, no need to make it worse. She couldn't talk to me either which was hard. She was heavily medicated and in a great deal of pain. Two weeks later and she still is in a great deal of pain.
Trying to take care of her is an odd feeling-- not bad or good, just odd. I can't really verbalize all that I am going through right now. Being an only child she did(and still does to an extent) take care of me. I am happy to do it, but it gives me anxiety. I wonder if she is ever going to be the same after this surgery. Will she ever be the same mom she was. These are my real concerns.
I miss my mom. I am beyond words thankful that she is still here and fought this battle as hard as she did. Yet, at the same time, she's not here. I suppose all of this could be normal-- but nothing I feel is ever normal so who knows. One day at a time is all I can do. It's all we can do.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Unexplained
My favorite part about being a neurotic mess is the "unexplained" anxiety that I seem to have. Usually, I can pinpoint the reasons for every panic attack, every stomach knot and every sleepless night however, there is a small percentage of anxiety filled days which fall into one of those "unexplained" categories. I woke up this morning with slight anxiety and then by 10 am, I was so filled to the brim with anxiety that I couldn't breathe. It's unnerving and disrupts my production level for the day. When I can determine where my anxiety is stemming from, it's easier for me to control my mood but in these situations, EVERYTHING bothers me.
If you aren't an anxious person, it's a difficult feeling to describe but it feels as though I am about to jump out of my skin. It's hard to be around myself--- which is tragic considering how much I enjoy alone time. If possible, I try to take a nap when this happens. Unfortunately, I don't always have that option (side note-- someone is on the phone around me and I want to scream because they are too loud-- this is all the anxiety. If I wasn't so anxious, I really wouldn't give a shit). I do have medication prescribed to me for such occasions, but given that I have to pick my daughter up in 2 hours, I need to be alert and have to pass....
My mind is always racing at a million miles an hour. I suspect part of this anxiety is a result of my mom's surgery on November 15. I am dreading this surgery almost as much as my mom is. It scares me to death actually but I would think it's too soon for my anxiety to start it's mind warp over the surgery but maybe it is. I have irrational fears with connected superstitions to all the "bad events" in my life (for example, I refuse to fly on the anniversary of my father's death because I think the plane will crash. Yeah, completely fucking insane. I know). In typical neurotic fashion, I fear my mom having surgery so close to the holiday because my husband's mom died a few days before Thanksgiving. This thought is starting to consume me--- and not in a good way.
Do you know what only perpetrates these irrational thoughts? Oprah. That's right, the Queen of Daytime TV should also be called the Queen of the Damned. She continues to put on the saddest, most gut wrenching, stories I've ever heard and I think, "OMG, if someone's life can be this tragic, then how will I avoid such tragedy?" Of course, the solution here is obvious-- stop watching Oprah. ...but that's like giving up chocolate. Impossible.
I sit here, barely breathing, wondering when the anxiety is going to disappear but also wonder if this is going to continue for the next two weeks in anticipation of my mom's surgery. I hope this anxiety falls into the unexplained category because honestly, I can't take the next two weeks of this. When my anxiety gets this bad, it is almost too painful to deal with the day.
There isn't much for me to do to take my mind off of it. Working doesn't help. I'm not sure what it's like to be normal and not have all this noise in my head. I envy people who are laid back.... Clearly, anyone would be concerned about surgery, I just don't know of it's normal to start worrying about it two weeks out. Then again, maybe the surgery isn't what's causing all my anxiety. Maybe there is another trigger.... My subconscious is a scary place and i try to avoid any deep searching of my thoughts. It only ends up in doubling my dose of xanax. Sometimes it's just best to leave it alone.
If you aren't an anxious person, it's a difficult feeling to describe but it feels as though I am about to jump out of my skin. It's hard to be around myself--- which is tragic considering how much I enjoy alone time. If possible, I try to take a nap when this happens. Unfortunately, I don't always have that option (side note-- someone is on the phone around me and I want to scream because they are too loud-- this is all the anxiety. If I wasn't so anxious, I really wouldn't give a shit). I do have medication prescribed to me for such occasions, but given that I have to pick my daughter up in 2 hours, I need to be alert and have to pass....
My mind is always racing at a million miles an hour. I suspect part of this anxiety is a result of my mom's surgery on November 15. I am dreading this surgery almost as much as my mom is. It scares me to death actually but I would think it's too soon for my anxiety to start it's mind warp over the surgery but maybe it is. I have irrational fears with connected superstitions to all the "bad events" in my life (for example, I refuse to fly on the anniversary of my father's death because I think the plane will crash. Yeah, completely fucking insane. I know). In typical neurotic fashion, I fear my mom having surgery so close to the holiday because my husband's mom died a few days before Thanksgiving. This thought is starting to consume me--- and not in a good way.
Do you know what only perpetrates these irrational thoughts? Oprah. That's right, the Queen of Daytime TV should also be called the Queen of the Damned. She continues to put on the saddest, most gut wrenching, stories I've ever heard and I think, "OMG, if someone's life can be this tragic, then how will I avoid such tragedy?" Of course, the solution here is obvious-- stop watching Oprah. ...but that's like giving up chocolate. Impossible.
I sit here, barely breathing, wondering when the anxiety is going to disappear but also wonder if this is going to continue for the next two weeks in anticipation of my mom's surgery. I hope this anxiety falls into the unexplained category because honestly, I can't take the next two weeks of this. When my anxiety gets this bad, it is almost too painful to deal with the day.
There isn't much for me to do to take my mind off of it. Working doesn't help. I'm not sure what it's like to be normal and not have all this noise in my head. I envy people who are laid back.... Clearly, anyone would be concerned about surgery, I just don't know of it's normal to start worrying about it two weeks out. Then again, maybe the surgery isn't what's causing all my anxiety. Maybe there is another trigger.... My subconscious is a scary place and i try to avoid any deep searching of my thoughts. It only ends up in doubling my dose of xanax. Sometimes it's just best to leave it alone.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
It Takes A Village
Apparently there are some women out there who believe that sending your child to daycare is a "last resort" for moms.... OK, I apologize in advance if I offend anyone out there but I need to address this issue.
I have been the target of pitiful looks and tongue lashings from "friends" (yeah, not in my life anymore) AND family (not mine, my husband's) for putting my child in daycare. Let me preface my arguments by saying that I have NO issue with women who choose to stay home and take care of the kids. That is probably one of the hardest things to do and unless you're a stay at home dad, men will NEVER understand how hard it is. I applaud you, really but that doesn't make you a better mother than me. In some instances that I've seen, the children are better off in the hands of strangers than their own parents. My arguments may not apply to EVERY child, but let's say 3 out of 4 for good measure...
Argument One: Socialization
My child is nearly 20 months old and WILL BE an only child. For many reasons, we decided this what was we wanted as a couple. If she was home with me all day, she wouldn't have any socialization skills. Instead, she would know all about being a Jersey Housewife, what an Intervention consists of and the lifestyle of the Kardashian sisters. I am addicted to TV and soon she would be to.... She isn't going to benefit from sitting in a house with me day in and day out while I try to find ways to amuse her. I think it's important she learns the benefits of friends and playing and all around, being a kid. I am late to have kids compared to some family and friends and have seen the downside to keeping their children home with them. My daughter started talking in sentences at an early age. I don't think it has anything to do with how smart she is but more the socialization skills she has gained from being around other kids. My daughter will never know what it's like NOT to have friends or a playmate. She won't be 4 years old and learning how to leave her mommy and make friends at the same time. I know 6 year olds that can't hack it. She is learning an important skill set that I wish I had. I know that if daycare was an option in the 70's, my mom would have sent me even if it was for one day a week. A child needs this exposure.
Argument Two: I'm Not Qualified
Sure, I am qualified to be a mom but there are people out there who went to school to receive Master's degrees in Early Elementary Education. Yeah, my JD isn't going to help me there. These women (and few men) have a ton more patience and knowledge than I will ever have. My daughter bonded to her primary infant care giver at daycare and I am forever grateful to her. I believe she was a strong influence on my daughter at the time and worked with her on achieving the milestones she needed before she turned one. My daughter's current teachers have taken extra time with her to help with her walking (she was late on this...). I'm a first time mom and I welcome most advice, but these women have been doing this for years with a ton of kids. I trust them. Her personality blossomed and she is practically running around the house (note to self, suspend gym membership due to excessive cardio every day).
Argument Three: Money
I'm not going to pretend my husband and I aren't well off, because we do pretty well. So, yes, I can afford to stay home with her. My income could be suspended for a few years until she goes to pre-school or Kindergarten. It's important to look at the bigger picture here. If I stay home, we would need to give up things which I believe are necessary. I'm not talking about Louboutins and dinners out, I'm talking about taking her to the zoo or the movies or even Disney on Ice. These are some of the best things about being a kid and I want her to have it all. I don't need her to be the best dressed kid in school, but I do need her to be happy. She has all the love in the world from us along with 4 grandparents that adore her. She is never at a loss for love or immaterial things. And from the selfish only child p.o.v. (me), there are still luxuries my husband and I don't want to give up (mani/pedis....). These things make US happy. When we're happy, she will inevitably be happy. Have you ever seen a child who comes from a home with unhappy parents? I have. It's not pretty.
Argument Four: FOR ME
I am a better mom, better wife and better person because I have not lost who I am. I need to work and have a life outside the home. The time I spend with her is precious and it is productive because I am at work and away from her all day. I was home on maternity leave for 16 weeks. I love my daughter more than the air that I breathe but I couldn't take it. You get into a routine, the days become monotonous, and you start to get depressed. Your whole life revolves around feedings, naps and dirty diapers. Yes, this is what I signed on for but it's not the ONLY thing I sign ed on for. NOTHING is better than seeing my daughter's face light up when I walk into daycare and hearing her say, "MOMMY!!!" and run up to me. NOTHING. It's brings tears to my eyes just writing this. That's what I wanted.... My husband works 12 hour days so I spend a lot of time with her on my days off. These are the moment I cherish because I'm not tired or stressed or depressed. I have waited all week for these hours with her. I look forward to the hours at night where I feed her, bathe her and read to her. It's the best part of my day.... If this was all I did, every day all day, I wouldn't appreciate it as much. I don't think anyone would.
I've had a lot of shitty things said to me and after some discussion, have learned that my friends have faced the same type of discrimination by "stay at home" moms. This was the decision my husband and I made. It wasn't easy. I didn't just drop her off on the front steps in her infant carrier... I cried for days and called the room EVERY SINGLE DAY to see how she was for a year. People tried to talk me out of it. They insisted my child would be sick ALL the time. Well, she was. She had chronic ear infections but those aren't contagious.... Aside from a few colds she was pretty healthy.
I know that some moms have family watch their kids or even may have a nanny if they can afford it. Again, I don't agree with it (see argument one) but I see their point of view. I know there are people who can't afford daycare and still work so rely on another family member or friend. Daycare is astronomical and I may have different arguments if I had more than one child or was a single mom. You don't want to work to pay for daycare. That's not conducive to a happy home either.
You don't get more points for being a stay at home mom. You don't get more points for putting your child in day care. It's important for women to realize this is a personal choice and shouldn't be criticized one way or another. Being a parent is a tough job on anyone. Sometimes you need all the help you can get. I'm confident in OUR decision to have our daughter in daycare and we're fortunate we can afford to have her there.
I have been the target of pitiful looks and tongue lashings from "friends" (yeah, not in my life anymore) AND family (not mine, my husband's) for putting my child in daycare. Let me preface my arguments by saying that I have NO issue with women who choose to stay home and take care of the kids. That is probably one of the hardest things to do and unless you're a stay at home dad, men will NEVER understand how hard it is. I applaud you, really but that doesn't make you a better mother than me. In some instances that I've seen, the children are better off in the hands of strangers than their own parents. My arguments may not apply to EVERY child, but let's say 3 out of 4 for good measure...
Argument One: Socialization
My child is nearly 20 months old and WILL BE an only child. For many reasons, we decided this what was we wanted as a couple. If she was home with me all day, she wouldn't have any socialization skills. Instead, she would know all about being a Jersey Housewife, what an Intervention consists of and the lifestyle of the Kardashian sisters. I am addicted to TV and soon she would be to.... She isn't going to benefit from sitting in a house with me day in and day out while I try to find ways to amuse her. I think it's important she learns the benefits of friends and playing and all around, being a kid. I am late to have kids compared to some family and friends and have seen the downside to keeping their children home with them. My daughter started talking in sentences at an early age. I don't think it has anything to do with how smart she is but more the socialization skills she has gained from being around other kids. My daughter will never know what it's like NOT to have friends or a playmate. She won't be 4 years old and learning how to leave her mommy and make friends at the same time. I know 6 year olds that can't hack it. She is learning an important skill set that I wish I had. I know that if daycare was an option in the 70's, my mom would have sent me even if it was for one day a week. A child needs this exposure.
Argument Two: I'm Not Qualified
Sure, I am qualified to be a mom but there are people out there who went to school to receive Master's degrees in Early Elementary Education. Yeah, my JD isn't going to help me there. These women (and few men) have a ton more patience and knowledge than I will ever have. My daughter bonded to her primary infant care giver at daycare and I am forever grateful to her. I believe she was a strong influence on my daughter at the time and worked with her on achieving the milestones she needed before she turned one. My daughter's current teachers have taken extra time with her to help with her walking (she was late on this...). I'm a first time mom and I welcome most advice, but these women have been doing this for years with a ton of kids. I trust them. Her personality blossomed and she is practically running around the house (note to self, suspend gym membership due to excessive cardio every day).
Argument Three: Money
I'm not going to pretend my husband and I aren't well off, because we do pretty well. So, yes, I can afford to stay home with her. My income could be suspended for a few years until she goes to pre-school or Kindergarten. It's important to look at the bigger picture here. If I stay home, we would need to give up things which I believe are necessary. I'm not talking about Louboutins and dinners out, I'm talking about taking her to the zoo or the movies or even Disney on Ice. These are some of the best things about being a kid and I want her to have it all. I don't need her to be the best dressed kid in school, but I do need her to be happy. She has all the love in the world from us along with 4 grandparents that adore her. She is never at a loss for love or immaterial things. And from the selfish only child p.o.v. (me), there are still luxuries my husband and I don't want to give up (mani/pedis....). These things make US happy. When we're happy, she will inevitably be happy. Have you ever seen a child who comes from a home with unhappy parents? I have. It's not pretty.
Argument Four: FOR ME
I am a better mom, better wife and better person because I have not lost who I am. I need to work and have a life outside the home. The time I spend with her is precious and it is productive because I am at work and away from her all day. I was home on maternity leave for 16 weeks. I love my daughter more than the air that I breathe but I couldn't take it. You get into a routine, the days become monotonous, and you start to get depressed. Your whole life revolves around feedings, naps and dirty diapers. Yes, this is what I signed on for but it's not the ONLY thing I sign ed on for. NOTHING is better than seeing my daughter's face light up when I walk into daycare and hearing her say, "MOMMY!!!" and run up to me. NOTHING. It's brings tears to my eyes just writing this. That's what I wanted.... My husband works 12 hour days so I spend a lot of time with her on my days off. These are the moment I cherish because I'm not tired or stressed or depressed. I have waited all week for these hours with her. I look forward to the hours at night where I feed her, bathe her and read to her. It's the best part of my day.... If this was all I did, every day all day, I wouldn't appreciate it as much. I don't think anyone would.
I've had a lot of shitty things said to me and after some discussion, have learned that my friends have faced the same type of discrimination by "stay at home" moms. This was the decision my husband and I made. It wasn't easy. I didn't just drop her off on the front steps in her infant carrier... I cried for days and called the room EVERY SINGLE DAY to see how she was for a year. People tried to talk me out of it. They insisted my child would be sick ALL the time. Well, she was. She had chronic ear infections but those aren't contagious.... Aside from a few colds she was pretty healthy.
I know that some moms have family watch their kids or even may have a nanny if they can afford it. Again, I don't agree with it (see argument one) but I see their point of view. I know there are people who can't afford daycare and still work so rely on another family member or friend. Daycare is astronomical and I may have different arguments if I had more than one child or was a single mom. You don't want to work to pay for daycare. That's not conducive to a happy home either.
You don't get more points for being a stay at home mom. You don't get more points for putting your child in day care. It's important for women to realize this is a personal choice and shouldn't be criticized one way or another. Being a parent is a tough job on anyone. Sometimes you need all the help you can get. I'm confident in OUR decision to have our daughter in daycare and we're fortunate we can afford to have her there.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
...and scene.
After the last two blogs, I thought I should write about something good.... er, great.
Aside from: "Free Louboutins" or "Mr. Wahlberg is holding on line one for you"-- I didn't think I would hear something as wonderful as, "Dr. S called. The Cancer is gone." Is there anything even left to say after that? Even thought I have heard that news once before (my dad was in remission for about 15 minutes), this is the new positive me so I know my mom is going to be fine. Hearing the news was exhilarating and to be honest, it still hasn't hit me I don't think. (See previous sentence). I think there is still a small part of me that wonders if the tests were right and if it's really gone, but again, I'm going to try and be positive.
When I heard the news I cried from being so happy and couldn't wait to call my husband and the rest of the family for that matter. I sent out text messages to everyone who knew about my mom's diagnosis. It's possible that people won't even know she's Cancer free until they read this blog. I was asked not to post anything on a public forum (Facebook, Twitter, etc) so it took a while to reach everyone.... Hmmm, I wonder if blogging counts??? She's going to kill me if/when I ever tell her about this blog.
The obvious question is whether she will need the surgery still. Yes, she is still going in for surgery. I don't know if it's necessary as much as it's precautionary at this point. The doctors all seemed to be a bit shocked the Cancer is gone. I keep hearing the word "miracle" thrown around a lot lately with her fighting this disease. Maybe this is God's way (yes, I do believe there is one even after all of this) of making up for what happened to my dad. But, I don't thank Dr. S for this miraculous recovery and I don't thank God either... I thank my dad.
My spirituality doesn't come from a religious belief but more of a superstitious one. I'm not about to open a can of worms on theology so let's say I believe in God and leave it at that. I believe this was a divine intervention by my father. I've felt that way all along. My mom was lucky enough to have a Cancer diagnosed at Stage I, which is usually diagnosed at Stage III or Stage IV. I don't know how he did it, but he put the wheels in motion of her getting sick which led to her early diagnosis. Does this sound crazy? Sure but you can't change my mind on this.
My blog will go on for a while longer-- at least through the surgery. I'm going to need to vent somehow.
For now, all I can do is be thankful that she is Cancer free and hope she begins to feel better. The residual effects of various infections and treatment therapies have taken a toll on her. I miss having my mom around and I feel as though she isn't around (understandably). I do believe she is at least 75% of the way on the road to recovery.
If this continues to go well, I will no longer see Cancer as a death sentence. I do know Cancer survivors (I have to mention that my pug is one of them...) and I know people who know Cancer survivors. After my father died, it seemed everyone I knew with a Cancer diagnosis lived. I hope to now include my mom in that group of people.
Aside from: "Free Louboutins" or "Mr. Wahlberg is holding on line one for you"-- I didn't think I would hear something as wonderful as, "Dr. S called. The Cancer is gone." Is there anything even left to say after that? Even thought I have heard that news once before (my dad was in remission for about 15 minutes), this is the new positive me so I know my mom is going to be fine. Hearing the news was exhilarating and to be honest, it still hasn't hit me I don't think. (See previous sentence). I think there is still a small part of me that wonders if the tests were right and if it's really gone, but again, I'm going to try and be positive.
When I heard the news I cried from being so happy and couldn't wait to call my husband and the rest of the family for that matter. I sent out text messages to everyone who knew about my mom's diagnosis. It's possible that people won't even know she's Cancer free until they read this blog. I was asked not to post anything on a public forum (Facebook, Twitter, etc) so it took a while to reach everyone.... Hmmm, I wonder if blogging counts??? She's going to kill me if/when I ever tell her about this blog.
The obvious question is whether she will need the surgery still. Yes, she is still going in for surgery. I don't know if it's necessary as much as it's precautionary at this point. The doctors all seemed to be a bit shocked the Cancer is gone. I keep hearing the word "miracle" thrown around a lot lately with her fighting this disease. Maybe this is God's way (yes, I do believe there is one even after all of this) of making up for what happened to my dad. But, I don't thank Dr. S for this miraculous recovery and I don't thank God either... I thank my dad.
My spirituality doesn't come from a religious belief but more of a superstitious one. I'm not about to open a can of worms on theology so let's say I believe in God and leave it at that. I believe this was a divine intervention by my father. I've felt that way all along. My mom was lucky enough to have a Cancer diagnosed at Stage I, which is usually diagnosed at Stage III or Stage IV. I don't know how he did it, but he put the wheels in motion of her getting sick which led to her early diagnosis. Does this sound crazy? Sure but you can't change my mind on this.
My blog will go on for a while longer-- at least through the surgery. I'm going to need to vent somehow.
For now, all I can do is be thankful that she is Cancer free and hope she begins to feel better. The residual effects of various infections and treatment therapies have taken a toll on her. I miss having my mom around and I feel as though she isn't around (understandably). I do believe she is at least 75% of the way on the road to recovery.
If this continues to go well, I will no longer see Cancer as a death sentence. I do know Cancer survivors (I have to mention that my pug is one of them...) and I know people who know Cancer survivors. After my father died, it seemed everyone I knew with a Cancer diagnosis lived. I hope to now include my mom in that group of people.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Anatomy of a Panic Attack
For me, they come out of no where. One minute I'm fine and then the next I can't breathe. They don't always end up with me in tears but when they do, it measures a ten on the "This really sucks" scale..
Let me start from the beginning... The other day when I brought mom into the Cancer center, she wasn't feeling well at all. I can probably say she looked the worst I've seen her in months. Even though it's like ripping out my insides when I see her sick like that, I want to be there. It validates me as a daughter to be able to help but this time it back fired on me. I was given one job-- get mom upstairs to see the doctor.
As I was standing at the nurse's desk, giving her name, I heard a thump, followed by "Oh My God" screams, followed by "CODE!" When I turned around, I saw my mom on the ground. I vaguely heard someone say, "she's not breathing." WHAT THE FUCK? Are you kidding me?
I ran over and calmly sat down while I watched a dozen nurses and doctors work on my mom. It's important to note that she didn't ever stop breathing, she just passed out from the pain. I remember some random lady rubbing my back asking me if I was OK-- I must have turned white as a ghost. It was completely an out of body experience because I sort of remember looking at things from another angle. As if it were a dream but it wasn't.
They lifted my mom onto the gurney and rolled her into the back to examine her and do an EKG. ...this is where it gets really, really, really bad. Per usual, I was breathing at a normal pace... then I was breathing fast.... and then faster.... and then faster.... now I'm hyperventilating to the point of feeling dizzy. I remember trying to focus on breathing in and out but it was completely out of my control by this point. Everyone around me was asking, "are you OK?" --- hmmm, let's see..... I'M HYPERVENTILATING SO CLEARLY NO, I'M NOT OK YOU ASSCLOWNS.
Before I knew it, I was sobbing and saying, "I can't do this anymore......" That's all I could manage to get out of my mouth. I was having a complete and total meltdown. For the first time in three months, I was being honest, out loud, about my feelings. I wasn't hiding behind some thin veil of a positive attitude. I wasn't allowing my guilt of selfishness to hold me back from expressing myself. I really can't do it anymore. I'm tired of worrying all the time.... Every moment of every day is is filled with me worrying about my mom dying. Yeah, I know, unhealthy.....
A nurse from the back appeared from no where and while I was sitting there sobbing, she put her arms around me. She clearly had children because I could feel the maternal-ness (is that a word???) from her. I completely allowed myself to fall into her arms and cry for what seemed like hours. I had been carrying this weight with me for so long and it felt so good to just let go.
She kept telling me that I didn't need to try and fix this. That I didn't need to carry this responsibility anymore. It was time for me to ask for help because there was plenty of people who could help me. Well, that's never been my strong suit. People come to me for support, for help, for a shoulder to lean on.... I don't know how to do that, which is why I have panic attacks.
After the panic attack, I was numb. I was tired. I am tired.
Let me start from the beginning... The other day when I brought mom into the Cancer center, she wasn't feeling well at all. I can probably say she looked the worst I've seen her in months. Even though it's like ripping out my insides when I see her sick like that, I want to be there. It validates me as a daughter to be able to help but this time it back fired on me. I was given one job-- get mom upstairs to see the doctor.
As I was standing at the nurse's desk, giving her name, I heard a thump, followed by "Oh My God" screams, followed by "CODE!" When I turned around, I saw my mom on the ground. I vaguely heard someone say, "she's not breathing." WHAT THE FUCK? Are you kidding me?
I ran over and calmly sat down while I watched a dozen nurses and doctors work on my mom. It's important to note that she didn't ever stop breathing, she just passed out from the pain. I remember some random lady rubbing my back asking me if I was OK-- I must have turned white as a ghost. It was completely an out of body experience because I sort of remember looking at things from another angle. As if it were a dream but it wasn't.
They lifted my mom onto the gurney and rolled her into the back to examine her and do an EKG. ...this is where it gets really, really, really bad. Per usual, I was breathing at a normal pace... then I was breathing fast.... and then faster.... and then faster.... now I'm hyperventilating to the point of feeling dizzy. I remember trying to focus on breathing in and out but it was completely out of my control by this point. Everyone around me was asking, "are you OK?" --- hmmm, let's see..... I'M HYPERVENTILATING SO CLEARLY NO, I'M NOT OK YOU ASSCLOWNS.
Before I knew it, I was sobbing and saying, "I can't do this anymore......" That's all I could manage to get out of my mouth. I was having a complete and total meltdown. For the first time in three months, I was being honest, out loud, about my feelings. I wasn't hiding behind some thin veil of a positive attitude. I wasn't allowing my guilt of selfishness to hold me back from expressing myself. I really can't do it anymore. I'm tired of worrying all the time.... Every moment of every day is is filled with me worrying about my mom dying. Yeah, I know, unhealthy.....
A nurse from the back appeared from no where and while I was sitting there sobbing, she put her arms around me. She clearly had children because I could feel the maternal-ness (is that a word???) from her. I completely allowed myself to fall into her arms and cry for what seemed like hours. I had been carrying this weight with me for so long and it felt so good to just let go.
She kept telling me that I didn't need to try and fix this. That I didn't need to carry this responsibility anymore. It was time for me to ask for help because there was plenty of people who could help me. Well, that's never been my strong suit. People come to me for support, for help, for a shoulder to lean on.... I don't know how to do that, which is why I have panic attacks.
After the panic attack, I was numb. I was tired. I am tired.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Life Imitates Art
(Disclaimer: this post is being written by a slightly buzzed, very sleepy blogger.)
Have you ever noticed when you have something going on in your life--- on a particular day-- and you turn on the TV and some lame ass made for TV movie is on or a TV show has a life lesson that completely mirrors the horror show of a day you had. Today that's me.
I had one of the worst days in my life... ever. Although my mom finished her chemo treatments two weeks ago, she still isn't healing as well as she should be. She's been unable to get any food down and if she does get it down, it doesn't stay down. In the midst of this eating nightmare, she started to battle what we thought was a cold, but after spending the entire day in the ER, it turns out she may have a bacterial infection which is preventing her from being able to eat because it's irritating the radiated area and causing constant retching and vomiting. She was very weak as I brought her in for her IV fluids. We've been through this before and it's hard to listen to her beg me to help her, because I lack any ability to give her what she needs, unless it's a hug. As if that weren't enough, two minutes after I brought her into the Comprehensive Cancer Center, as I am checking her in at the nurses desk, I hear a loud crash, a scream and the following words loud and clear: "IT'S A CODE."
The next few seconds seemed like a lifetime because they happened in slow motion but I turn around, only to find out that my mom had passed out and wasn't breathing. Or we weren't sure she was breathing. It's cliche, but it was an out of body experience. It was as if I was watching the whole thing in slow motion. I remember about 10 nurses crowded around her along with a few doctors. Mind you, this is all taking place in the waiting room. I don't remember much.... Some wonderful woman came over, put her arms around me and kept telling me it was going to be OK. I don't know who she was and where she went after that, but for a brief moment, she was my hero and exactly what I needed.
Because my mom was having chest pain, they wheeled her off to the ER to make sure she didn't have a heart attack. What the Fuck? Cancer... now HEART ATTACK. what happened next is a whirlwind and needs an entire blog post --- I had the panic attack to end all panic attacks. More on that at a later date but to write about that now is more than I can handle.
In the end, my mom is OK and resting comfortably. I was told by the GI doc and the oncologist that she was in the best place now and they were going to do everything to make her feel better. No one seemed to think the tumor has grown. They are all still positive about her diagnosis and multiple medical professionals assured me, "this is all completely normal." We were begged by her and the doctors to go home and rest (yeah right, like that could ever fucking happen). After hours of the sitting and waiting, I finally acquiesced and came home to relax. Several glasses of wine, a few klonipin and a warm jacuzzi bath later, I felt better.
....then I turned on Glee. What happens in the first 5 minutes but the widower father of one of the characters has a heart attack. The rest of the episode focuses on religion but more moving than anything is Kurt's rendition of "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" which gives the song a perspective I would have never imagined. It was sung as a child to their parent-- asking to hold their hand, because they needed that closeness as confirmation that everything was going to be OK. It forced me to think of my mom, sitting in that hospital bed, which only led my thoughts to --- what am I going to do if I lose my mom? I wish I were there holding HER hand right now. Holding her hand would give me the comfort that I have been yearning for the last 2 months. I hate to say she's all I have because I have an amazing husband and a beautiful healthy daughter but she's the only mom that I have.
So much for watching TV to relax and unwind. But does this happen to anyone else? Life literally imitating art?
Thank God for the hilarity of Jeff Lewis but dude, my day was rough. Stay tuned for a review of the nervous breakdown.
Have you ever noticed when you have something going on in your life--- on a particular day-- and you turn on the TV and some lame ass made for TV movie is on or a TV show has a life lesson that completely mirrors the horror show of a day you had. Today that's me.
I had one of the worst days in my life... ever. Although my mom finished her chemo treatments two weeks ago, she still isn't healing as well as she should be. She's been unable to get any food down and if she does get it down, it doesn't stay down. In the midst of this eating nightmare, she started to battle what we thought was a cold, but after spending the entire day in the ER, it turns out she may have a bacterial infection which is preventing her from being able to eat because it's irritating the radiated area and causing constant retching and vomiting. She was very weak as I brought her in for her IV fluids. We've been through this before and it's hard to listen to her beg me to help her, because I lack any ability to give her what she needs, unless it's a hug. As if that weren't enough, two minutes after I brought her into the Comprehensive Cancer Center, as I am checking her in at the nurses desk, I hear a loud crash, a scream and the following words loud and clear: "IT'S A CODE."
The next few seconds seemed like a lifetime because they happened in slow motion but I turn around, only to find out that my mom had passed out and wasn't breathing. Or we weren't sure she was breathing. It's cliche, but it was an out of body experience. It was as if I was watching the whole thing in slow motion. I remember about 10 nurses crowded around her along with a few doctors. Mind you, this is all taking place in the waiting room. I don't remember much.... Some wonderful woman came over, put her arms around me and kept telling me it was going to be OK. I don't know who she was and where she went after that, but for a brief moment, she was my hero and exactly what I needed.
Because my mom was having chest pain, they wheeled her off to the ER to make sure she didn't have a heart attack. What the Fuck? Cancer... now HEART ATTACK. what happened next is a whirlwind and needs an entire blog post --- I had the panic attack to end all panic attacks. More on that at a later date but to write about that now is more than I can handle.
In the end, my mom is OK and resting comfortably. I was told by the GI doc and the oncologist that she was in the best place now and they were going to do everything to make her feel better. No one seemed to think the tumor has grown. They are all still positive about her diagnosis and multiple medical professionals assured me, "this is all completely normal." We were begged by her and the doctors to go home and rest (yeah right, like that could ever fucking happen). After hours of the sitting and waiting, I finally acquiesced and came home to relax. Several glasses of wine, a few klonipin and a warm jacuzzi bath later, I felt better.
....then I turned on Glee. What happens in the first 5 minutes but the widower father of one of the characters has a heart attack. The rest of the episode focuses on religion but more moving than anything is Kurt's rendition of "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" which gives the song a perspective I would have never imagined. It was sung as a child to their parent-- asking to hold their hand, because they needed that closeness as confirmation that everything was going to be OK. It forced me to think of my mom, sitting in that hospital bed, which only led my thoughts to --- what am I going to do if I lose my mom? I wish I were there holding HER hand right now. Holding her hand would give me the comfort that I have been yearning for the last 2 months. I hate to say she's all I have because I have an amazing husband and a beautiful healthy daughter but she's the only mom that I have.
So much for watching TV to relax and unwind. But does this happen to anyone else? Life literally imitating art?
Thank God for the hilarity of Jeff Lewis but dude, my day was rough. Stay tuned for a review of the nervous breakdown.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Open Letter
My wedding anniversary is coming up soon. I never forget, but clearly I have other things on my mind so it "momentarily slipped my mind." It sort of just hit me today that I need to make a run to Hallmark. Because my brain doesn't work normally, the remembrance of buying anniversary cards led me through a series of thoughts which ended with a review of those men in my life who brought me here... to the happiness I've found in my husband. Now that I have this blog, I wanted to take a minute to write an open letter to thank the guys I've dated/was involved with for so many things. So if you'll indulge me:
To Mr. GTL: I would like to thank you for making me realize sooner, rather than later that Italian men make shitty boyfriends/husbands. Although I was attracted to the fact you were tan in the middle of February and you drove a suped up ride, your priorities were literally gym, tan and laundry before it became a catch phrase. Make no mistake, we never did anything I wanted and most of all, it was your way or no way. FYI, seeing a grown man pout isn't sexy. It's a turn off. I'm not sorry that I didn't pick up the phone on the first ring or that I didn't call you back seconds after I received your voicemail. Thank you for being typical Italian. You wore it well.
To the Cop: You my friend played a very important role. My involvement with you taught me the signs to look for in a cheating spouse. The lies men tell to hide their infidelities and the denial their wives are in gave me more than just a glimpse into a failing marriage. I learned to differentiate between lies and the truth. Although I'm not proud of the role I played, the lessons you taught me were invaluable. Now that I'm married, I see why what we did was so wrong. I wish I was more mature at the time to realize it sooner. Because of you, I'm able to spot a cheat and a liar miles away--- even for my friends. Thank you from all of us.
To the Addict: I spent most of my twenties drinking and partying with the rest of my generation. I thought getting drunk and hooking up a la Jersey Shore was living the life. After dating you, I realized that I needed to find a man who DIDN'T share this philosophy. Nothing teaches you this lesson better than waking up in bed soaked with another person's urine. Your drinking and partying is what first attracted me to you, but in the end it's what caused me to leave you. I hope today you've joined a 12 step program because you needed help that I couldn't give you. Seeing you on the streets here is just as awkward as the morning I woke up cold and wet in my own bed..... Oh and another thing, you shouldn't try to hook up with one of my sorority sisters and think it won't get back to me. We have a bond, asshole.
To Douche bag: (I'll refer to him as DB to make it easier). DB, thank you, thank you, thank you for dumping my ass. It was the best thing you ever did for me. At the time, I was so overcome by grief I didn't see what a favor this was. For a long time, I judged a guy by his relationship with his mother. I thought if he was close to mom, then he'd treat me like a queen. Boy was I wrong! It's one thing to be close but to be shunned out of "mommy and me" outings was.... um, weird. You even made Oedipus look bad. "Cut the cord" brought on a whole new meaning. Today, I am married to a man that had NO relationship with his mother and I'm better for it. I never saw selfish behavior like yours before and although we are no longer in contact, I hear through the grapevine that you are still the same way. I was convinced for years that YOU were my type. My husband is everything you're not: loving, kind, generous and honest. The most important lesson you taught me? Well, that's simple. You don't need a Harvard degree to prove that you're an intellectual; sometimes a person is just smart without having to prove it.
Tomorrow I'll be married 4 wonderful years to an amazing man and I couldn't have gotten here without this (self imposed) abuse... so thanks to all of you.
To Mr. GTL: I would like to thank you for making me realize sooner, rather than later that Italian men make shitty boyfriends/husbands. Although I was attracted to the fact you were tan in the middle of February and you drove a suped up ride, your priorities were literally gym, tan and laundry before it became a catch phrase. Make no mistake, we never did anything I wanted and most of all, it was your way or no way. FYI, seeing a grown man pout isn't sexy. It's a turn off. I'm not sorry that I didn't pick up the phone on the first ring or that I didn't call you back seconds after I received your voicemail. Thank you for being typical Italian. You wore it well.
To the Cop: You my friend played a very important role. My involvement with you taught me the signs to look for in a cheating spouse. The lies men tell to hide their infidelities and the denial their wives are in gave me more than just a glimpse into a failing marriage. I learned to differentiate between lies and the truth. Although I'm not proud of the role I played, the lessons you taught me were invaluable. Now that I'm married, I see why what we did was so wrong. I wish I was more mature at the time to realize it sooner. Because of you, I'm able to spot a cheat and a liar miles away--- even for my friends. Thank you from all of us.
To the Addict: I spent most of my twenties drinking and partying with the rest of my generation. I thought getting drunk and hooking up a la Jersey Shore was living the life. After dating you, I realized that I needed to find a man who DIDN'T share this philosophy. Nothing teaches you this lesson better than waking up in bed soaked with another person's urine. Your drinking and partying is what first attracted me to you, but in the end it's what caused me to leave you. I hope today you've joined a 12 step program because you needed help that I couldn't give you. Seeing you on the streets here is just as awkward as the morning I woke up cold and wet in my own bed..... Oh and another thing, you shouldn't try to hook up with one of my sorority sisters and think it won't get back to me. We have a bond, asshole.
To Douche bag: (I'll refer to him as DB to make it easier). DB, thank you, thank you, thank you for dumping my ass. It was the best thing you ever did for me. At the time, I was so overcome by grief I didn't see what a favor this was. For a long time, I judged a guy by his relationship with his mother. I thought if he was close to mom, then he'd treat me like a queen. Boy was I wrong! It's one thing to be close but to be shunned out of "mommy and me" outings was.... um, weird. You even made Oedipus look bad. "Cut the cord" brought on a whole new meaning. Today, I am married to a man that had NO relationship with his mother and I'm better for it. I never saw selfish behavior like yours before and although we are no longer in contact, I hear through the grapevine that you are still the same way. I was convinced for years that YOU were my type. My husband is everything you're not: loving, kind, generous and honest. The most important lesson you taught me? Well, that's simple. You don't need a Harvard degree to prove that you're an intellectual; sometimes a person is just smart without having to prove it.
Tomorrow I'll be married 4 wonderful years to an amazing man and I couldn't have gotten here without this (self imposed) abuse... so thanks to all of you.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Pet Peeves
I couldn't resist. So many of my pet peeves have been violated today that I just needed to vent about them. It's an act of self indulgence but I don't give a fuck. This shit really pisses me off. These are really in no particular order and I'll try to limit them. Seeing that I believe I'm perfect 99% of the time, I have a lot of complaints.
1. Holding the Door: Nothing incenses me more than a person who does not hold the door for you either because they a) don't see if someone is behind them or b) they see you but don't give a shit. How long could it possible take out of your super important day to hold to door on your way into work? Are you in that much of a hurry that the 2.4 seconds it may take could cut into your time of getting coffee, checking email and gossiping when you get the to office. This holds true for elevator doors.
2. The Nude Nylon Nightmare: if you are under the age of 50, there is absolutely no excuse for you to own a pair of nude/flesh colored nylons. in conjunction with this rule, nylons should NEVER be worn with open toe shoes of any kind. If you can't brave the cold on your toes, then don't wear the shoes because well, you look silly. The only exception to this, black fishnets with a peep toe and perfectly painted red toes-- a la 1940.
3. Red Sox fans: They are too ignorant to give credence too. I have many friends who are fans but having grown up a Yankees girl, my tolerance is low for any team that chants "Yankees Suck" no matter WHO they are playing on any given day. I love Boston, but I hate Massholes.
4.Don't Say "If you need anything, call me" if you don't mean it: This is the ultimate in being put on the "all set" list with me (more on that list in a future blog). I don't expect a great deal from my friends/family. Essentially, I follow the Christian thinking of do unto others. When my friends or family need something from me, I'm there for them. I wish I could say the same. Again, I've written about this here before and I've been forced to cleanse my circle of those who are too selfish to give a shit about anyone else but themselves and their drama.
5. Ignorance: If I hear "God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve" one more time, I may possibly punch someone in the face. It's hard, but I accept there are people out there who don't approve of being gay. I don't agree with them but they are entitled to their opinion as long as they don't present it as douche bags. I don't throw my politics in your face, so please do not throw yours in mine.
6. Being too opinionated: Yes, there really is such a thing. I know that I'm opinionated but I was raised right... I say that shit behind your back and not to your face so I won't hurt your feelings. My only example is once being told by a "friend" that if I was going to have an elective C-Section, what was the point of having a baby. What? Did I hear you right???? Yes, that's what she said. Apparently you get more points for having a baby vaginally. The most points you can attain is having a baby vaginally without any drugs whatsoever. To those women I salute you but I'm pretty happy to say I have no idea what labor feels like and my vajayjay never needed stitches and is the same size. Hmmmm..... what would you choose?
7. Jealousy: This is a pretty big one because I seem to face this consistently. It's not a "is she prettier" type jealousy. There are those in my life, not by choice, who feel as though they have every right to spread lies about my husband, my marriage and my personal life. Sure, we are all jealous by nature but there is a fine line between being jealous and being jealous and wishing ill will on someone. Clearly, the only reason for this is jealousy otherwise, why tell people I posted on Facebook that my marriage was in trouble? It's a blatant lie and forced me to re-evaluate my privacy settings. I've made my point with these people. They know it too. Don't fuck with me.
8. Football: I hate it's existence. I don't understand it and it needs to go. ....and that's all I have to say about that.
9.Self Righteous Italians: The Sopranos was a TV show and it was accurate. The Jersey Shore is a reality show and accurate. Get over yourself people. This is the majority of Italians. Whether you like it or not, this is who we ALL are deep down inside. I have a secret love of animal print, fur and all things that bling. I'm Italian. These shows don't make Italians look bad. Italians make Italians look bad. Being Italian is so much more than what you see on TV but the good parts aren't going to generate ratings people.... As my dad always said, there are two types of Italians: those who are and those who want to be. So true.
10. "Just relax": I hear this EVERY day in my life. I'm type A personality prone to panic attacks. This is not good advice. Actually, it just makes me want to hurt you so don't say it to me. This was especially awful advice when we were trying to get pregnant (note to readers- never share you are trying to get pregnant with anyone). Relaxing wasn't going to help with the fertility issues. Asshats.
Hmmmmm.... I'm sure there will be more at a later date but enjoy.
1. Holding the Door: Nothing incenses me more than a person who does not hold the door for you either because they a) don't see if someone is behind them or b) they see you but don't give a shit. How long could it possible take out of your super important day to hold to door on your way into work? Are you in that much of a hurry that the 2.4 seconds it may take could cut into your time of getting coffee, checking email and gossiping when you get the to office. This holds true for elevator doors.
2. The Nude Nylon Nightmare: if you are under the age of 50, there is absolutely no excuse for you to own a pair of nude/flesh colored nylons. in conjunction with this rule, nylons should NEVER be worn with open toe shoes of any kind. If you can't brave the cold on your toes, then don't wear the shoes because well, you look silly. The only exception to this, black fishnets with a peep toe and perfectly painted red toes-- a la 1940.
3. Red Sox fans: They are too ignorant to give credence too. I have many friends who are fans but having grown up a Yankees girl, my tolerance is low for any team that chants "Yankees Suck" no matter WHO they are playing on any given day. I love Boston, but I hate Massholes.
4.Don't Say "If you need anything, call me" if you don't mean it: This is the ultimate in being put on the "all set" list with me (more on that list in a future blog). I don't expect a great deal from my friends/family. Essentially, I follow the Christian thinking of do unto others. When my friends or family need something from me, I'm there for them. I wish I could say the same. Again, I've written about this here before and I've been forced to cleanse my circle of those who are too selfish to give a shit about anyone else but themselves and their drama.
5. Ignorance: If I hear "God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve" one more time, I may possibly punch someone in the face. It's hard, but I accept there are people out there who don't approve of being gay. I don't agree with them but they are entitled to their opinion as long as they don't present it as douche bags. I don't throw my politics in your face, so please do not throw yours in mine.
6. Being too opinionated: Yes, there really is such a thing. I know that I'm opinionated but I was raised right... I say that shit behind your back and not to your face so I won't hurt your feelings. My only example is once being told by a "friend" that if I was going to have an elective C-Section, what was the point of having a baby. What? Did I hear you right???? Yes, that's what she said. Apparently you get more points for having a baby vaginally. The most points you can attain is having a baby vaginally without any drugs whatsoever. To those women I salute you but I'm pretty happy to say I have no idea what labor feels like and my vajayjay never needed stitches and is the same size. Hmmmm..... what would you choose?
7. Jealousy: This is a pretty big one because I seem to face this consistently. It's not a "is she prettier" type jealousy. There are those in my life, not by choice, who feel as though they have every right to spread lies about my husband, my marriage and my personal life. Sure, we are all jealous by nature but there is a fine line between being jealous and being jealous and wishing ill will on someone. Clearly, the only reason for this is jealousy otherwise, why tell people I posted on Facebook that my marriage was in trouble? It's a blatant lie and forced me to re-evaluate my privacy settings. I've made my point with these people. They know it too. Don't fuck with me.
8. Football: I hate it's existence. I don't understand it and it needs to go. ....and that's all I have to say about that.
9.Self Righteous Italians: The Sopranos was a TV show and it was accurate. The Jersey Shore is a reality show and accurate. Get over yourself people. This is the majority of Italians. Whether you like it or not, this is who we ALL are deep down inside. I have a secret love of animal print, fur and all things that bling. I'm Italian. These shows don't make Italians look bad. Italians make Italians look bad. Being Italian is so much more than what you see on TV but the good parts aren't going to generate ratings people.... As my dad always said, there are two types of Italians: those who are and those who want to be. So true.
10. "Just relax": I hear this EVERY day in my life. I'm type A personality prone to panic attacks. This is not good advice. Actually, it just makes me want to hurt you so don't say it to me. This was especially awful advice when we were trying to get pregnant (note to readers- never share you are trying to get pregnant with anyone). Relaxing wasn't going to help with the fertility issues. Asshats.
Hmmmmm.... I'm sure there will be more at a later date but enjoy.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
I Thought This Was the Easy Part????
She did it. She finished the entire treatment of chemo-radiation.We all had moments where we doubted she was going to continue but she did and I am proud of her. Dr. S told us the treatment would be a breeze but that wasn't the case AT ALL.
Now that she has finished, it's important her esophagus heals before the re-section surgery takes place. According to Dr.K, the radiologist, during the healing process, it will feel as if a sunburn was peeling. Sounds pretty painful and it is. Since she can't swallow pills, she's taking liquid morphine.... and EVEN THAT isn't helping. Mom will be the first to say she isn't the best with pain, but for morphine to not even touch the pain, there has to be something worse going on right? I'm not a positive person so of course I've decided the Cancer has spread and she is in pain from massive tumors taking over her entire body (even those the pain is localized). Logical assumption? Not at all. Typical for me? Absolutely.
To make things worse, I'm no longer in the house. This is starting to add to my anxiety and I have gone back to popping pills as if they were M&M's. Usually I call her at night, but the morphine makes her tired and she's sleeping so I've started calling her from work. BAD IDEA. Every time I talk to her, she cries. Her crying leads to knots in my stomach. I know, here I am bringing the focus back to me. But indulge for a moment--- It's getting harder and harder to be supportive and strong, when I'm too upset to deal with the reality of what is going on with her.
I have no idea what to say to her and whatever I do say, is the wrong thing. It's hard not to take it personally but I know that's what I need to do. Being in BDH ("Barbie's Dream Home") has brought such joy to me and my husband. I cherish moments where we are all sitting at the kitchen table on a Sunday morning having breakfast but, there is that tiny guilt gnat gnawing at the base of my brain. The guilt that I shouldn't be happy.... that I should be there....
Clearly, I'm the worst daughter in the world right? (that's a rhetorical question, no comments please). I know that if I wasn't a mom, I would be there more for my mom. Even though she's sleeping most of the time, I know she appreciates the company. I guess it's obvious what I need to do here, I need to find a way to get there more often. I've been so wrapped up in my own life and BDH that I haven't done enough. Is it ever enough though? Will I ever not feel guilty?
So, if this was the easy part..... What's going to happen AFTER surgery? FML.
Now that she has finished, it's important her esophagus heals before the re-section surgery takes place. According to Dr.K, the radiologist, during the healing process, it will feel as if a sunburn was peeling. Sounds pretty painful and it is. Since she can't swallow pills, she's taking liquid morphine.... and EVEN THAT isn't helping. Mom will be the first to say she isn't the best with pain, but for morphine to not even touch the pain, there has to be something worse going on right? I'm not a positive person so of course I've decided the Cancer has spread and she is in pain from massive tumors taking over her entire body (even those the pain is localized). Logical assumption? Not at all. Typical for me? Absolutely.
To make things worse, I'm no longer in the house. This is starting to add to my anxiety and I have gone back to popping pills as if they were M&M's. Usually I call her at night, but the morphine makes her tired and she's sleeping so I've started calling her from work. BAD IDEA. Every time I talk to her, she cries. Her crying leads to knots in my stomach. I know, here I am bringing the focus back to me. But indulge for a moment--- It's getting harder and harder to be supportive and strong, when I'm too upset to deal with the reality of what is going on with her.
I have no idea what to say to her and whatever I do say, is the wrong thing. It's hard not to take it personally but I know that's what I need to do. Being in BDH ("Barbie's Dream Home") has brought such joy to me and my husband. I cherish moments where we are all sitting at the kitchen table on a Sunday morning having breakfast but, there is that tiny guilt gnat gnawing at the base of my brain. The guilt that I shouldn't be happy.... that I should be there....
Clearly, I'm the worst daughter in the world right? (that's a rhetorical question, no comments please). I know that if I wasn't a mom, I would be there more for my mom. Even though she's sleeping most of the time, I know she appreciates the company. I guess it's obvious what I need to do here, I need to find a way to get there more often. I've been so wrapped up in my own life and BDH that I haven't done enough. Is it ever enough though? Will I ever not feel guilty?
So, if this was the easy part..... What's going to happen AFTER surgery? FML.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Shiny Happy People
As I have mentioned before, friends have always been my support system. For the most part, they are substitute brothers and/or sisters for me. I've never been part of a large clique and choose who I keep close to me very, very carefully. You can't pick your family but you can pick your friends, so why not make sure those you let in are the right ones?
Admittedly, I was different person before my father died. Some may disagree, but I was much more selfish then and it has nothing to do with maturing. I saw things more clearly after he was gone.... Things he used to say to me made more sense (ie, keep your friends close and your enemies closer--- ugh, so Italian right?). I tried to become a better person and I know I did. Over the years I relapsed.... Old habits die hard and no one can become perfect over night, even though I tried.
The people who are in my life now, have pretty much been around for the last 12 years or longer. I have these friends and I'm really not looking for anymore (which I try not to make obvious, but I know I do because I'm really not a nice person). All of the people in my life have one thing in common-- loyalty. I've kept them close to me because they were individuals I could count on when I needed them the most. I obviously, I have certain friends that I'm a bit closer too. One has been hanging around in my corner for 26 LONG years. Interestingly, she's an only child as well. Our childhoods were polar opposites but somehow, we are exactly the same in so many ways. She's surpassed the level of friend and has become family--- the perfect sister, in my mind but again, I chose her to be in my life (and vice versa). Big shout out to "Lilijohnson."
When my dad died, those people who were in my life showed their true colors. I cut many people out for shear disappointment of their behavior.... sad really. I still hold a grudge too (this is not because I'm an only child or a woman... but because I'm Italian. you don't fuck with respect, people). Some made the cut, and they are still dear friends of mine to this day.
With my mom's diagnosis, I was again surprised with the behavior of some friends. Of course we're older now with more responsibilities, but in today's world of technology, it takes mere moments to send an email, text, tweet, etc to see how my mom is or how I am. I'm not complaining though (karma, people)-- I'm using it as a segue to discuss one person who surpassed any expectations I may have had.
After I shared my mom's diagnosis with several close friends, via email, I received a remarkable response. I've mentioned this before, I'm not a crier but this one email made me teary. Since most of my friends are from college and law school, I'm miles apart from them.... which is heartbreaking. I don't like to mention names in my blog, so I won't, but her email to me brought back emotions (both good and bad) of a period of time where she and I were inseparable in one another's lives. When my father died, she was there with me days before the services, the days of the services and days after the services doing what she could to help me cope.
Her personality can only be described as sunny and during this "dark" period in my life, her email brought a light that I needed. She has (unknowingly) inspired me to stay strong and think positive. As I read her email, I had chills. It reminded me that no matter how far apart we may be, we'll always have a place in each other's heart. Sometimes, when you're sad, all you need is a little reassurance at how special you are to someone else.
Admittedly, I was different person before my father died. Some may disagree, but I was much more selfish then and it has nothing to do with maturing. I saw things more clearly after he was gone.... Things he used to say to me made more sense (ie, keep your friends close and your enemies closer--- ugh, so Italian right?). I tried to become a better person and I know I did. Over the years I relapsed.... Old habits die hard and no one can become perfect over night, even though I tried.
The people who are in my life now, have pretty much been around for the last 12 years or longer. I have these friends and I'm really not looking for anymore (which I try not to make obvious, but I know I do because I'm really not a nice person). All of the people in my life have one thing in common-- loyalty. I've kept them close to me because they were individuals I could count on when I needed them the most. I obviously, I have certain friends that I'm a bit closer too. One has been hanging around in my corner for 26 LONG years. Interestingly, she's an only child as well. Our childhoods were polar opposites but somehow, we are exactly the same in so many ways. She's surpassed the level of friend and has become family--- the perfect sister, in my mind but again, I chose her to be in my life (and vice versa). Big shout out to "Lilijohnson."
When my dad died, those people who were in my life showed their true colors. I cut many people out for shear disappointment of their behavior.... sad really. I still hold a grudge too (this is not because I'm an only child or a woman... but because I'm Italian. you don't fuck with respect, people). Some made the cut, and they are still dear friends of mine to this day.
With my mom's diagnosis, I was again surprised with the behavior of some friends. Of course we're older now with more responsibilities, but in today's world of technology, it takes mere moments to send an email, text, tweet, etc to see how my mom is or how I am. I'm not complaining though (karma, people)-- I'm using it as a segue to discuss one person who surpassed any expectations I may have had.
After I shared my mom's diagnosis with several close friends, via email, I received a remarkable response. I've mentioned this before, I'm not a crier but this one email made me teary. Since most of my friends are from college and law school, I'm miles apart from them.... which is heartbreaking. I don't like to mention names in my blog, so I won't, but her email to me brought back emotions (both good and bad) of a period of time where she and I were inseparable in one another's lives. When my father died, she was there with me days before the services, the days of the services and days after the services doing what she could to help me cope.
Her personality can only be described as sunny and during this "dark" period in my life, her email brought a light that I needed. She has (unknowingly) inspired me to stay strong and think positive. As I read her email, I had chills. It reminded me that no matter how far apart we may be, we'll always have a place in each other's heart. Sometimes, when you're sad, all you need is a little reassurance at how special you are to someone else.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Mom's Super Powers
From as far back as I can remember, I thought my mom walked on water. She most likely would disagree based on my behavior from the ages of 13-20 but in actuality, that's a really small window of my life. Being an only child, she and I have always had this incredible bond. There are no words to describe it at all. I've tried to articulate my feelings but, the only people who understand are other only children. Of course, it's not necessarily the bond with their mom but they do have that bond with at least one parent.
No one, absolutely no one, can get to me like my mom does. Her ability to lay guilt on me is worthy of gold medal status. She can give me knots in my stomach based only on the tone in her voice. I can conjure up a whole scenario about why she may be upset with me and why the guilt trick is being pulled. The woman has a gift. A talent. The skill has been passed down for generations in my family. Some of us have an immunity to it, but sadly, I fall victim every time. Although I avow to never do this to my own daughter, it's inevitable because it's in the genes, as well as my ethic background. It's almost like my mom is a super hero with this unrivaled ability.
Don't get me wrong, my mom has many other amazing traits that outweigh this one. Throughout her struggle with treatment, I've realized how calm she is (99% of the time). I am a nervous wreck on chemo days. Perhaps she is as well, but she doesn't show it. I can't sleep the night before and it's pretty much the only thing on my mind until she calls me on her way home. My inability to hide anxiety is debilitating to say the least. There is no doubt in my mind she knows how upset I am, even though I struggle to hide it. Sitting at work, the time goes by so slowly until she finally calls. This week, I was at work, as usual and trying to focus when she finally called-- to tell me she was reading "Shit My Dad Says" on her Kindle while getting her treatment and was laughing out loud (I wonder how well that goes over at the Cancer Center). So, the good news is, she's laughing and is able to keep her mind off of what's really going on while I try to focus on my job.
Moving out of the basement has helped a great deal. I would have thought it would give me more anxiety not being there to watch every breathe she takes but it doesn't. Out of sight, out of mind. You see, I also have a super power-- I have an uncanny ability to just pretend bad things aren't going on... It's not really denial- it's just a purely erasing thoughts from my mind. Denial is completely different. This is a tactic I perfected when my dad was sick. It's a skill I have tried to teach others but, no one can master it.
The treatment is winding down now. Only one more chemo treatment to go and then the recovery period will begin before the surgery. I hope to be able to draw from her calmness to keep me sane. I don't blame my father for anything--- in my eyes, he was perfect-- but damn him for giving me the anxiety gene.
No one, absolutely no one, can get to me like my mom does. Her ability to lay guilt on me is worthy of gold medal status. She can give me knots in my stomach based only on the tone in her voice. I can conjure up a whole scenario about why she may be upset with me and why the guilt trick is being pulled. The woman has a gift. A talent. The skill has been passed down for generations in my family. Some of us have an immunity to it, but sadly, I fall victim every time. Although I avow to never do this to my own daughter, it's inevitable because it's in the genes, as well as my ethic background. It's almost like my mom is a super hero with this unrivaled ability.
Don't get me wrong, my mom has many other amazing traits that outweigh this one. Throughout her struggle with treatment, I've realized how calm she is (99% of the time). I am a nervous wreck on chemo days. Perhaps she is as well, but she doesn't show it. I can't sleep the night before and it's pretty much the only thing on my mind until she calls me on her way home. My inability to hide anxiety is debilitating to say the least. There is no doubt in my mind she knows how upset I am, even though I struggle to hide it. Sitting at work, the time goes by so slowly until she finally calls. This week, I was at work, as usual and trying to focus when she finally called-- to tell me she was reading "Shit My Dad Says" on her Kindle while getting her treatment and was laughing out loud (I wonder how well that goes over at the Cancer Center). So, the good news is, she's laughing and is able to keep her mind off of what's really going on while I try to focus on my job.
Moving out of the basement has helped a great deal. I would have thought it would give me more anxiety not being there to watch every breathe she takes but it doesn't. Out of sight, out of mind. You see, I also have a super power-- I have an uncanny ability to just pretend bad things aren't going on... It's not really denial- it's just a purely erasing thoughts from my mind. Denial is completely different. This is a tactic I perfected when my dad was sick. It's a skill I have tried to teach others but, no one can master it.
The treatment is winding down now. Only one more chemo treatment to go and then the recovery period will begin before the surgery. I hope to be able to draw from her calmness to keep me sane. I don't blame my father for anything--- in my eyes, he was perfect-- but damn him for giving me the anxiety gene.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Overwhelming Demand
I definitely try to lighten the blog a bit after a heavy post. You need to laugh. Laughing is so important when you are trying to survive watching a loved one fight cancer. I have a handful of people that I can count on to make me laugh--- laugh so hard that my sides hurt actually, so I needed to find joy in other ways. Recently, there has been a demand for a blog entry by a few people (I also have some anonymous followers). I'm going to write about a recent magical experience and it's going to make me look crazier than I already do... But you have to be able to laugh at yourself. It's a great way to forget the sadness for even a second.
No big secret, I love Donnie Wahlberg. I've loved him for 21 years-- which is longer than my own husband. I can't help it nor can I explain it. He's hot, yes, clearly... But he's also nice. Not, "I'm Getting Paid to Be Here" but genuine "I Love My Fans" nice. Unless you've met him, you probably won't believe this but forget being cynical and trust me on this one. I've met him more times than I can count. Anyway, my birthday and Donnie's birthday are close and he always has a party--- a BIG party. Of course it's not free, but when the opportunity presents itself, I jump on it. Luckily I have enough crazy friends I can call on to go with me.
Last year I entered a local radio contest and won the grand prize to attend his birthday party. Of course, I was live on the radio when I won and sounded like a complete asshole... but again, you have to laugh at yourself sometimes. At the party last year, I was lucky enough to score that birthday kiss.... after which I became mute in a creepy fan stalker way. I needed to redeem myself. I've had several chances to do that since, but nothing.
The day of the party, I told myself this encounter was going to be different.... I dressed up as if I was Cinderella going to the ball in a fun black satin cocktail dress. We packed up and drove to the casino. When I first arrived, I felt very arrogant about my VIP status until I saw the line----- and it was long. Really long. This definitely wasn't going to be as intimate as it was last year and I was visually assaulted by at least 50 girls. ....maybe even more. I'm still having nightmares. But, I put on a smile and stood in line in my 5 inch heels waiting for my moment of glory.
Once inside the lounge, I downed some Pinot Grigio-- liquid courage-- and awaited his arrival. I had a prime position to see him and couldn't wait. The seconds ticked away slowly. Then.... I heard the screams, the shrieks, the loud music and there he was. In all his amazing glory dressed to kill in a black suit. I believe there was a beacon of light above him as well--- ok, it was the club lights, but same thing. My heart started to race, birds were flying around my head and hearts were popping out of my eyes. There was only one thing left to do--- have another glass of Pinot Grigio.
The line to get my moment with him wrapped around the bar for what seemed miles but I relaxed while I drank my wine before I hopped into place. Finally, I was inches away from him and all ll I could think about was how I was an adult woman with a post graduate degree but couldn't form a complete sentence in my head. How suddenly I was catatonic (which for those who know me isn't easy). I knew this was my moment- I've fucked it up before and this time I wasn't going to do it.
This is when things get a little fuzzy.
I remember walking up to him and telling my girlfriend in front of me, "Tell him it was my birthday Wednesday." Next thing I knew, her hugging moment was over and I was standing there, looking at him and lost all sense of where I was. I think if I was a dog, I would have peed on myself from the shock and awe. He kissed me on the cheek, said, "Happy Belated, baby" in the sexy D-Dub back rub voice (those of you who know, know) and I believe I said thank you? The flash went off and that was it. I took a step, woke from my coma and thought fuck! With that, I spun around on my fuchsia Louboutins.
Through my fog, I recall taking his hand and saying, "I've met you so many times and can NEVER talk to you. I'm just in awe of you." Without missing a beat, he looked me up and down, looked into my eyes (sure, he had on aviator glasses but you know when this man is looking at you) and said, "Well, I have to tell you. I'm pretty in awe of you too." We ended with another big hug....l
....and that ladies and gentlemen, is hands down, the best line I've ever been fed by a guy. I heart him-- not just because he's hot but for all the smiles he gives me when I can't bear being an adult.
No big secret, I love Donnie Wahlberg. I've loved him for 21 years-- which is longer than my own husband. I can't help it nor can I explain it. He's hot, yes, clearly... But he's also nice. Not, "I'm Getting Paid to Be Here" but genuine "I Love My Fans" nice. Unless you've met him, you probably won't believe this but forget being cynical and trust me on this one. I've met him more times than I can count. Anyway, my birthday and Donnie's birthday are close and he always has a party--- a BIG party. Of course it's not free, but when the opportunity presents itself, I jump on it. Luckily I have enough crazy friends I can call on to go with me.
Last year I entered a local radio contest and won the grand prize to attend his birthday party. Of course, I was live on the radio when I won and sounded like a complete asshole... but again, you have to laugh at yourself sometimes. At the party last year, I was lucky enough to score that birthday kiss.... after which I became mute in a creepy fan stalker way. I needed to redeem myself. I've had several chances to do that since, but nothing.
The day of the party, I told myself this encounter was going to be different.... I dressed up as if I was Cinderella going to the ball in a fun black satin cocktail dress. We packed up and drove to the casino. When I first arrived, I felt very arrogant about my VIP status until I saw the line----- and it was long. Really long. This definitely wasn't going to be as intimate as it was last year and I was visually assaulted by at least 50 girls. ....maybe even more. I'm still having nightmares. But, I put on a smile and stood in line in my 5 inch heels waiting for my moment of glory.
Once inside the lounge, I downed some Pinot Grigio-- liquid courage-- and awaited his arrival. I had a prime position to see him and couldn't wait. The seconds ticked away slowly. Then.... I heard the screams, the shrieks, the loud music and there he was. In all his amazing glory dressed to kill in a black suit. I believe there was a beacon of light above him as well--- ok, it was the club lights, but same thing. My heart started to race, birds were flying around my head and hearts were popping out of my eyes. There was only one thing left to do--- have another glass of Pinot Grigio.
The line to get my moment with him wrapped around the bar for what seemed miles but I relaxed while I drank my wine before I hopped into place. Finally, I was inches away from him and all ll I could think about was how I was an adult woman with a post graduate degree but couldn't form a complete sentence in my head. How suddenly I was catatonic (which for those who know me isn't easy). I knew this was my moment- I've fucked it up before and this time I wasn't going to do it.
This is when things get a little fuzzy.
I remember walking up to him and telling my girlfriend in front of me, "Tell him it was my birthday Wednesday." Next thing I knew, her hugging moment was over and I was standing there, looking at him and lost all sense of where I was. I think if I was a dog, I would have peed on myself from the shock and awe. He kissed me on the cheek, said, "Happy Belated, baby" in the sexy D-Dub back rub voice (those of you who know, know) and I believe I said thank you? The flash went off and that was it. I took a step, woke from my coma and thought fuck! With that, I spun around on my fuchsia Louboutins.
Through my fog, I recall taking his hand and saying, "I've met you so many times and can NEVER talk to you. I'm just in awe of you." Without missing a beat, he looked me up and down, looked into my eyes (sure, he had on aviator glasses but you know when this man is looking at you) and said, "Well, I have to tell you. I'm pretty in awe of you too." We ended with another big hug....l
....and that ladies and gentlemen, is hands down, the best line I've ever been fed by a guy. I heart him-- not just because he's hot but for all the smiles he gives me when I can't bear being an adult.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The Big 4
Yesterday my mom made it more than half way through her chemotherapy. It's a fantastic milestone since we didn't think she would continue this far. There are only two more to go and she has started some new medication in order to avoid additional nausea. Of course, she feels fine the day of her treatment and still maintains her energy the next day--- it's that damn third day where it kicks in for her ...or so we thought. Her treatments are getting more arduous and she is losing energy. On the days she feels great, she looks great but on the days where she doesn't feel well, it's heartbreaking to see her. Today is one of those days. It's very early in the morning and my mom is extremely nauseated and sick. I feel helpless. I just don't understand... and I sit here in fear of waiting for her to say, "I'm not doing these treatments anymore."
In the beginning, I planned on attending her chemo treatments with her because as Dr. S, the oncologist said, this will be a breeze. I'd have my Nook, she'd have her Kindle and we would spend quality time together. Again, this is in an attempt to fill the regret I had for not spending enough time with my dad. This didn't quite happen. Actually, I was discouraged from going to the chemo treatments, not by just my mom either but mostly everyone I know. I suppose it makes sense that seeing some of the Cancer patients would have pushed me over the edge -- seeing those people who have lost their hair, anorexic from lack of appetite and pallid may just be more than I can stand. On the flip side, it's worse being at work, trying to concentrate, while knowing my mom is having this poison injected into her (FYI, there is an upside-- the chemo is killing the arthritis in her bad knee and she's having thoughts about becoming a Rockette).
I wish I were more emotionally stable. I don't say that to be cute, it's the truth. Ironically, growing up, crying wasn't my thing. No one ever mistook me for an emotional kid. I was sensitive, but didn't cry unless I was pushed to my limits. After my dad died, everything changed. I know that I won't be able to concentrate at work today knowing how sick she is right now. She'll be the first to admit that she doesn't have a particularly high tolerance for pain which has made this more difficult. It's not even just pain, she can't tolerate being sick at all. My dad's chemo was so much more aggressive (I remember it was 8 hours a day and possibly 5 days a week?? again, I blocked out alot) but he didn't complain so I never knew how bad it was. I actually sit there, watching her like this and wish it were me going through it. It's beginning to take a toll on all of us. Cancer doesn't just affect the patient, it affects the whole family.
There is a line I use quite frequently-- "I want to go to a foreign country and hide under a bed." It's from the greatest TV show of our time (Moonlighting). When I heard it the first time, I was 12. I knew it was a great line but didn't get the true meaning until I got older but it was strong enough to resonate with me all these years. It's selfish. The highest degree of selfishness and an expected response from an only child. I would leave my job, my family and friends to live under a bed in France. Preferably Paris. But, that's our thing-- only children are selfish so I doubt this is shocking. I run away from my problems as best as I can because I can't cope. I know I'm 35 and I need to grow up.... set a better example for my daughter.... but this is sucking the life out of me. The one time support system since we received the news has dwindled. I'm disappointed in that. People are reaching out that I never thought would and those who I though would be there for me, aren't. I don't blame them though. I blame myself for not asking for help... I just didn't think I'd have to do that.
I'll sit here today..... my stomach in knots. Trying to focus and be productive so I don't lose my job. Honestly, fuck my life right now.
In the beginning, I planned on attending her chemo treatments with her because as Dr. S, the oncologist said, this will be a breeze. I'd have my Nook, she'd have her Kindle and we would spend quality time together. Again, this is in an attempt to fill the regret I had for not spending enough time with my dad. This didn't quite happen. Actually, I was discouraged from going to the chemo treatments, not by just my mom either but mostly everyone I know. I suppose it makes sense that seeing some of the Cancer patients would have pushed me over the edge -- seeing those people who have lost their hair, anorexic from lack of appetite and pallid may just be more than I can stand. On the flip side, it's worse being at work, trying to concentrate, while knowing my mom is having this poison injected into her (FYI, there is an upside-- the chemo is killing the arthritis in her bad knee and she's having thoughts about becoming a Rockette).
I wish I were more emotionally stable. I don't say that to be cute, it's the truth. Ironically, growing up, crying wasn't my thing. No one ever mistook me for an emotional kid. I was sensitive, but didn't cry unless I was pushed to my limits. After my dad died, everything changed. I know that I won't be able to concentrate at work today knowing how sick she is right now. She'll be the first to admit that she doesn't have a particularly high tolerance for pain which has made this more difficult. It's not even just pain, she can't tolerate being sick at all. My dad's chemo was so much more aggressive (I remember it was 8 hours a day and possibly 5 days a week?? again, I blocked out alot) but he didn't complain so I never knew how bad it was. I actually sit there, watching her like this and wish it were me going through it. It's beginning to take a toll on all of us. Cancer doesn't just affect the patient, it affects the whole family.
There is a line I use quite frequently-- "I want to go to a foreign country and hide under a bed." It's from the greatest TV show of our time (Moonlighting). When I heard it the first time, I was 12. I knew it was a great line but didn't get the true meaning until I got older but it was strong enough to resonate with me all these years. It's selfish. The highest degree of selfishness and an expected response from an only child. I would leave my job, my family and friends to live under a bed in France. Preferably Paris. But, that's our thing-- only children are selfish so I doubt this is shocking. I run away from my problems as best as I can because I can't cope. I know I'm 35 and I need to grow up.... set a better example for my daughter.... but this is sucking the life out of me. The one time support system since we received the news has dwindled. I'm disappointed in that. People are reaching out that I never thought would and those who I though would be there for me, aren't. I don't blame them though. I blame myself for not asking for help... I just didn't think I'd have to do that.
I'll sit here today..... my stomach in knots. Trying to focus and be productive so I don't lose my job. Honestly, fuck my life right now.
Friday, August 27, 2010
17 down, 16 to go
We knew this day was going to happen. The radiation has started to cause some side affects. Mom is having trouble swallowing and constantly feels as if her stomach is on fire. I can't even begin to imagine what any of these feels like but I can see how tired she in her eyes. I try to do what I can but really, there's not much I can do but give her lots of hugs and love.
Her best day turned out to be my birthday. The pattern has been she gets sick two days after her chemo, but this week she was like a whole new person. She felt great and had no nausea. Even though I assumed I was going to have the worst birthday ever, it turned out to be the best. Seeing my mom up and around, full of live, energy and a strong will to fight this disease was perhaps the best gift I could have had.
It wasn't until last night where she began to feel sick, achy, and tired. I watched my mom take care of my grandparents for years and I don't know how she did it. It's so emotionally draining to watch this and I can understand why mom was so tired. Obviously my grandparents were much more ill than she is but it's still worrisome. Honestly, it's not that taking care of her is alot of work.... It's the stress from worrying that makes you tired.
Today I gave her a card--- it was a superhero "Cancer Vixen." She said she will look at it to remind herself to keep fighting. So far there has not been any talk of her skipping out on chemo Monday which is a 180 from where we were a week ago. She is half way home. I know we are just beginning to climb the mountain. Surgery is going to be brutal but I'm positive she's going to be great (I figure if I say it enough, I'll start to actually believe it).
I'm 35 years old but I still feel like I am her 5 year old little girl. I hug her every chance I get and tell her I love her a thousand times a day. I never get tired of saying it and what mom would get tired of hearing it??? Knowing my dad was terminal, gave me the chance to say everything I wanted to say to him. We knew he had 3 months to live and embraced every second of it. I remember coming home for the weekends to visit, and sitting there holding his hand while we watched TV. I was grateful to have that time with him.
Life can all change in a second and even though I know my mom will be around forever (see, I said it again), I still want her to know how much I love her. ...but someday, when she's recovered and I decide to tell her about this blog, she is going to KICK MY ASS. No joke.
Her best day turned out to be my birthday. The pattern has been she gets sick two days after her chemo, but this week she was like a whole new person. She felt great and had no nausea. Even though I assumed I was going to have the worst birthday ever, it turned out to be the best. Seeing my mom up and around, full of live, energy and a strong will to fight this disease was perhaps the best gift I could have had.
It wasn't until last night where she began to feel sick, achy, and tired. I watched my mom take care of my grandparents for years and I don't know how she did it. It's so emotionally draining to watch this and I can understand why mom was so tired. Obviously my grandparents were much more ill than she is but it's still worrisome. Honestly, it's not that taking care of her is alot of work.... It's the stress from worrying that makes you tired.
Today I gave her a card--- it was a superhero "Cancer Vixen." She said she will look at it to remind herself to keep fighting. So far there has not been any talk of her skipping out on chemo Monday which is a 180 from where we were a week ago. She is half way home. I know we are just beginning to climb the mountain. Surgery is going to be brutal but I'm positive she's going to be great (I figure if I say it enough, I'll start to actually believe it).
I'm 35 years old but I still feel like I am her 5 year old little girl. I hug her every chance I get and tell her I love her a thousand times a day. I never get tired of saying it and what mom would get tired of hearing it??? Knowing my dad was terminal, gave me the chance to say everything I wanted to say to him. We knew he had 3 months to live and embraced every second of it. I remember coming home for the weekends to visit, and sitting there holding his hand while we watched TV. I was grateful to have that time with him.
Life can all change in a second and even though I know my mom will be around forever (see, I said it again), I still want her to know how much I love her. ...but someday, when she's recovered and I decide to tell her about this blog, she is going to KICK MY ASS. No joke.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Diarrhea of the Mouth is Not an Actual Disease
I've been completely honest from day one that I am on a handful of drugs to get me through this and I've gotten shit for it. But I want to start from the beginning to make it clear. I've been on and off antidepressants since my father died. They helped me a great deal to pick myself up out of bed and get on with the day. Not long after his death, I started law school and was introduced to something called a "panic attack." I remember the very first one like it was yesterday. My heart was pounding so fast, I couldn't catch my breathe and for some odd reason, the only place I felt safe was sitting in a closet. Fucked up, I know. Clearly this wasn't depression and I was diagnosed with general anxiety disorder. I went off the meds for a brief period of time because I thought I was OK (it was actually the drugs working). BIG mistake. BIG. My fear of death had quadrupled and a new fear of flying had set in.... So here I am back on pills and I'm not ashamed of it.
Today I had a conversation with a friend who seems to suffer from similar issues and I discussed the pros and cons (mostly pros) of taking a daily medication to assuage the anxiety. If I was diabetic, I would take insulin. It's the same thing to me. I know it's a crutch but it's helping me get through this one day at a time.
Only children have a great deal of time by themselves and tend to fixate on "stuff." Right now I fixate on my mom's disease. When you're alone all the time as an only child, you dwell. It's just what you do because you have no one to talk to so you internalize. Normally, if I have a problem, I talk to my mom but clearly I can't do that now so I internalize which leads to the panic attacks which requires the meds.
Anyway, I digress... My newest drug is Klonipin. I've had it before but my dosage has been raised. It's a drug that I can take and still drive so it's not as hardcore as Xanax. I never take any meds (except my daily one) while my daughter is in my care and I tend not to drive on the Klonipin, just to be safe. No matter what, I am responsible with them because I have my daughter to take care of and she is my number one priority. But recently, I have experience a side affect from this drug that I was NOT anticipating and this was too good not to share.
I tend to talk and talk and talk on a normal basis but Klonipin causes me to have NO filter at all. Once the thought pops in my head, it comes out my mouth instantly. It's something you need to be careful with for sure and after a fun text message tete a tete with a friend, I realized that I need to filter myself more and NOT share my inner thoughts. Fortunately, it was a friend that doesn't take me too seriously but also thinks I'm funny as shit so it was fun and harmless. I simply shared information that should have been kept on the inside and not the outside.... I was briefly mortified of my diarrhea of the mouth but then I had another Aha! moment.
Life is too fucking short. I am going to say what I want to say (short of hurting someone's feelings). If I have something to say, I am going to say it. Surprisingly, I do have a filter at times. But you know what? Fuck that shit. I'm not going to hold back anymore. Honestly, it's not about hurting feelings or being inappropriate, it's about being honest about what I'm thinking. This makes life more fun and a hell of a lot more interesting.
My mom always said that it wasn't necessary to express every thought I have the second I have it but, again, fuck that shit. I get one life and I'm not holding back anymore. Next, Donnie Wahlberg better watch out Friday because I have LOTS to say.
Today I had a conversation with a friend who seems to suffer from similar issues and I discussed the pros and cons (mostly pros) of taking a daily medication to assuage the anxiety. If I was diabetic, I would take insulin. It's the same thing to me. I know it's a crutch but it's helping me get through this one day at a time.
Only children have a great deal of time by themselves and tend to fixate on "stuff." Right now I fixate on my mom's disease. When you're alone all the time as an only child, you dwell. It's just what you do because you have no one to talk to so you internalize. Normally, if I have a problem, I talk to my mom but clearly I can't do that now so I internalize which leads to the panic attacks which requires the meds.
Anyway, I digress... My newest drug is Klonipin. I've had it before but my dosage has been raised. It's a drug that I can take and still drive so it's not as hardcore as Xanax. I never take any meds (except my daily one) while my daughter is in my care and I tend not to drive on the Klonipin, just to be safe. No matter what, I am responsible with them because I have my daughter to take care of and she is my number one priority. But recently, I have experience a side affect from this drug that I was NOT anticipating and this was too good not to share.
I tend to talk and talk and talk on a normal basis but Klonipin causes me to have NO filter at all. Once the thought pops in my head, it comes out my mouth instantly. It's something you need to be careful with for sure and after a fun text message tete a tete with a friend, I realized that I need to filter myself more and NOT share my inner thoughts. Fortunately, it was a friend that doesn't take me too seriously but also thinks I'm funny as shit so it was fun and harmless. I simply shared information that should have been kept on the inside and not the outside.... I was briefly mortified of my diarrhea of the mouth but then I had another Aha! moment.
Life is too fucking short. I am going to say what I want to say (short of hurting someone's feelings). If I have something to say, I am going to say it. Surprisingly, I do have a filter at times. But you know what? Fuck that shit. I'm not going to hold back anymore. Honestly, it's not about hurting feelings or being inappropriate, it's about being honest about what I'm thinking. This makes life more fun and a hell of a lot more interesting.
My mom always said that it wasn't necessary to express every thought I have the second I have it but, again, fuck that shit. I get one life and I'm not holding back anymore. Next, Donnie Wahlberg better watch out Friday because I have LOTS to say.
Remember to Breathe
My day is best described by these sage words from a poet of our generation, "Today was a good day"- Ice Cube. I am able to breathe because I witnessed first hand how bad this battle can be and how much worse it's going to get but I'm ready to take it head on. But, for now, mom looks great and feels great. She always does well on chemo day. It's always the days that follow which are the most difficult. Tonight, she was herself and for that, it was a good day. Even at 34 (it's not here yet), I'm not ashamed to admit that I had my head in her lap while she stroked my hair. I fell asleep for a short time but it was the happiest I've been in weeks and I was able to exhale. For now I am going to be thankful for today, because it was a good day.
Surprisingly, there has been a great deal of feedback from friends about the blog and I promised to inject some "non-Cancer " stuff in here. This is such an only child thing--- but we THRIVE on piling on as much stress as we possibly can. Amongst my every day normal work/being a mom stress, I'm also moving and helping my mom fight a Cancer battle. So clearly I thought now would be a PERFECT time to try a crazy restrictive diet which cuts out some of my favorite things-- cake, diet coke and wine.
I am on the tail end of the detox phase. In 36 hours, I am going to have the biggest glass of diet coke I can. I may go to 7-11 to purchase the largest Big Gulp they have. I'm going to bathe in it. I can say that I've lost 6 lbs in the last 8 days which is pretty amazing but I am living on salad, rice, beans and yogurt. Oh, and water, you can't forget water. YUM! Am I fucking crazy? In the last 6 weeks, I gained about 10 lbs. I was eating my sadness and stress away. It took me nine months or so to lose the SIXTY POUNDS I gained from being pregnant and I was going to be damned if I was going to gain any of that shit back.
Did I mention I can't eat meat? Yeah- no meat. If I was vegetarian, I'd be miserable. I want a burger all the time. When I watch Rachel Zoe I get hungry.... because you know that bitch is starving. Come on. So I timed this 9 day detox to end the day before my birthday on the off chance that someone planned a big bash for me. A friend of mine tonight told me that he's going to get drunk and throw up on his birthday. I laughed but it sounds like a good idea.
Getting back to the diet.....Sure, it's working but it's the worst diet out there. I'm hungry all the time. I really thought around day 4 I was going to die. Actually, I was convinced I was going to die. Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you-- there's no coffee either. Do you know that withdrawal from Dunkin Donuts turbo iced coffees make you feel like your brain is bleeding? Yup. I think my brain swelled and nearly exploded because the pain was almost unbearable.
As I write this, I'm watching my darling husband eat a brownie. Nice right? I'm sure tomorrow night he'll have Chinese food to go out with a bang. When I'm on a diet, he fends for himself so I've been able to sit and watch him eat burgers and fries, ice cream, pasta... all the foods I would kill for right now. But I had to prove I give it all up and I did.... and it was a STUPID-ASS idea.
Surprisingly, there has been a great deal of feedback from friends about the blog and I promised to inject some "non-Cancer " stuff in here. This is such an only child thing--- but we THRIVE on piling on as much stress as we possibly can. Amongst my every day normal work/being a mom stress, I'm also moving and helping my mom fight a Cancer battle. So clearly I thought now would be a PERFECT time to try a crazy restrictive diet which cuts out some of my favorite things-- cake, diet coke and wine.
I am on the tail end of the detox phase. In 36 hours, I am going to have the biggest glass of diet coke I can. I may go to 7-11 to purchase the largest Big Gulp they have. I'm going to bathe in it. I can say that I've lost 6 lbs in the last 8 days which is pretty amazing but I am living on salad, rice, beans and yogurt. Oh, and water, you can't forget water. YUM! Am I fucking crazy? In the last 6 weeks, I gained about 10 lbs. I was eating my sadness and stress away. It took me nine months or so to lose the SIXTY POUNDS I gained from being pregnant and I was going to be damned if I was going to gain any of that shit back.
Did I mention I can't eat meat? Yeah- no meat. If I was vegetarian, I'd be miserable. I want a burger all the time. When I watch Rachel Zoe I get hungry.... because you know that bitch is starving. Come on. So I timed this 9 day detox to end the day before my birthday on the off chance that someone planned a big bash for me. A friend of mine tonight told me that he's going to get drunk and throw up on his birthday. I laughed but it sounds like a good idea.
Getting back to the diet.....Sure, it's working but it's the worst diet out there. I'm hungry all the time. I really thought around day 4 I was going to die. Actually, I was convinced I was going to die. Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you-- there's no coffee either. Do you know that withdrawal from Dunkin Donuts turbo iced coffees make you feel like your brain is bleeding? Yup. I think my brain swelled and nearly exploded because the pain was almost unbearable.
As I write this, I'm watching my darling husband eat a brownie. Nice right? I'm sure tomorrow night he'll have Chinese food to go out with a bang. When I'm on a diet, he fends for himself so I've been able to sit and watch him eat burgers and fries, ice cream, pasta... all the foods I would kill for right now. But I had to prove I give it all up and I did.... and it was a STUPID-ASS idea.
Monday, August 23, 2010
What the Fuck?
Treatment number two didn't go well at all..... not AT ALL. Mom was really sick and still they are not sure what caused it. Her nausea and vomiting were not typical of those patients undergoing chemotherapy. Although her oncologist, Dr.S, can't say 100% for sure it was not chemo related he has changed her chemo drugs and other medication around. We're hoping for a better result this week. But let's back up, shall we?
Friday mom was admitted into the hospital with severe stomach pain, nausea and vomiting. The scene was reminiscent of when I had to take her to the emergency room 6 weeks ago before we learned of her Cancer diagnosis. She was in excruciating pain along with the nausea and nothing helped. Once in a room, we were lucky enough to have Doogie Howser, M.D. come in to see her and ask her a million questions ("Um, how do you spell Dr.X's name? " Are you fucking kidding me right now?). She was given enough Morphine and Ativan to render a T-Rex unconscious and slept well for the night.
Saturday afternoon she was released but her stomach was still upset. She continued to sleep and rest. I thought all was well. We were all, doctors included, under the the belief this stomach issue was completely independent from the Cancer treatment. All of us except for mom, that is. In the midst of her drugged out rants she claimed she was not going to continue to treatment. Yeah, yeah. OK, whatever you say mom. Just get some rest.
I was woken up very early Sunday morning by mom to say we had company. It's 8 am. It's Sunday. Who the hell is coming to the house? When I come upstairs, I find my aunt on the couch with my mom. My aunt is sobbing. Clearly I thought someone died-- I'm Italian so that's the first thing I always thing of. Well, no one died. Not yet anyway....
My mother proceeded to tell me that she was not going to fight the Cancer. That she was going to give up. She has a Cancer diagnosis that most Cancer patients dream of-- Stage I, lymph nodes unaffected, not metastasized..... and she was going to just say, I'm all set. Well, fuck you, I don't think so. I tried everything. We all tried everything. I remained calm, in her presence of course. I spoke to her rationally, but as you know, you can't rationalize with irrational people so that didn't work very well. I started to well up a bit and told her I refuse to deal with bullshit and with that, I went back down to my little cave.
I slammed the bedroom door shut and cried. I cried so much and so hard that I think the neighbors heard me. I can tell you my mom heard..... The release was therapeutic. Most definitely it was the nervous breakdown that I was anticipating. Oh man, it was a good cry. It was one of those cries where you are hyperventilating and can't speak. My face was all red and my contacts came out on their own.... It was a GOOD cry. But, my husband gave me a xanax and calmed me down. At one point, I looked over at him and in 6 1/2 years, I've never seen him cry (other than the movie "Rudy" of course....) and he was crying. Sure, it wasn't the same. It was that "guy" cry-- you know, when their eyes well up and they start sniffling saying "I have something in my eye." But still.... we went through the death of his own mother and nothing. I thought he had ice running through his veins but I was wrong. I can tell you at that moment, our relationship changed forever and I began to understand marriage in a whole new way.
I am happy to report that we convinced her to go to one more chemo treatment. She is there now and after today she will be half way home. I don't know who out there prays, but if you do, I ask that you put in a good word. She CANNOT get sick like that again this week or she will give up. I don't know if we will be able to convince her to do another week. Right now she's there, not against her will, but to fight hard for her daughter, her husband, her granddaughter and the rest of the family.
As for me, I am pissed at her but I love her. I will continue to take care of her and support her. She's my mom. I can't imagine life without her, at least not now. We all knew this would be hard but we're trying the best we can to keep it together.
Friday mom was admitted into the hospital with severe stomach pain, nausea and vomiting. The scene was reminiscent of when I had to take her to the emergency room 6 weeks ago before we learned of her Cancer diagnosis. She was in excruciating pain along with the nausea and nothing helped. Once in a room, we were lucky enough to have Doogie Howser, M.D. come in to see her and ask her a million questions ("Um, how do you spell Dr.X's name? " Are you fucking kidding me right now?). She was given enough Morphine and Ativan to render a T-Rex unconscious and slept well for the night.
Saturday afternoon she was released but her stomach was still upset. She continued to sleep and rest. I thought all was well. We were all, doctors included, under the the belief this stomach issue was completely independent from the Cancer treatment. All of us except for mom, that is. In the midst of her drugged out rants she claimed she was not going to continue to treatment. Yeah, yeah. OK, whatever you say mom. Just get some rest.
I was woken up very early Sunday morning by mom to say we had company. It's 8 am. It's Sunday. Who the hell is coming to the house? When I come upstairs, I find my aunt on the couch with my mom. My aunt is sobbing. Clearly I thought someone died-- I'm Italian so that's the first thing I always thing of. Well, no one died. Not yet anyway....
My mother proceeded to tell me that she was not going to fight the Cancer. That she was going to give up. She has a Cancer diagnosis that most Cancer patients dream of-- Stage I, lymph nodes unaffected, not metastasized..... and she was going to just say, I'm all set. Well, fuck you, I don't think so. I tried everything. We all tried everything. I remained calm, in her presence of course. I spoke to her rationally, but as you know, you can't rationalize with irrational people so that didn't work very well. I started to well up a bit and told her I refuse to deal with bullshit and with that, I went back down to my little cave.
I slammed the bedroom door shut and cried. I cried so much and so hard that I think the neighbors heard me. I can tell you my mom heard..... The release was therapeutic. Most definitely it was the nervous breakdown that I was anticipating. Oh man, it was a good cry. It was one of those cries where you are hyperventilating and can't speak. My face was all red and my contacts came out on their own.... It was a GOOD cry. But, my husband gave me a xanax and calmed me down. At one point, I looked over at him and in 6 1/2 years, I've never seen him cry (other than the movie "Rudy" of course....) and he was crying. Sure, it wasn't the same. It was that "guy" cry-- you know, when their eyes well up and they start sniffling saying "I have something in my eye." But still.... we went through the death of his own mother and nothing. I thought he had ice running through his veins but I was wrong. I can tell you at that moment, our relationship changed forever and I began to understand marriage in a whole new way.
I am happy to report that we convinced her to go to one more chemo treatment. She is there now and after today she will be half way home. I don't know who out there prays, but if you do, I ask that you put in a good word. She CANNOT get sick like that again this week or she will give up. I don't know if we will be able to convince her to do another week. Right now she's there, not against her will, but to fight hard for her daughter, her husband, her granddaughter and the rest of the family.
As for me, I am pissed at her but I love her. I will continue to take care of her and support her. She's my mom. I can't imagine life without her, at least not now. We all knew this would be hard but we're trying the best we can to keep it together.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Got Wahlberg?
It's starts off at an early age.... self soothing. In the case of my daughter, she has her pacifier and her favorite stuffed animal. When she's crying and miserable from teething or even if she's being a cranky pants, these two things make her feel better (along with kisses from mommy). For me, it also started with a pacifier then I moved on to a stuffed Minnie Mouse and eased into my early career as a stylist by spending hours dressing Barbie. My choices of comfort changed as I matured-- for the most part.
I remember when I saw him for the first time. I was 14, he was 19. It's a cliche, but I really did spot him across a crowded room, except he was on a stage. To me, Donnie Wahlberg was the perfect model of a man and listening to the music of New Kids on the Block was just pure, innocent fun. Going to their concerts and hanging up Donnie posters in my room was just FUN. It's what being a teenage girl is all about. It's a time in your life where you can either be a kid or try to be an adult. Sure there's stress, but it's teenager stress. I truly wish I had the problems I had when I was 14. 5 guys from Boston became my teen idols and stole my heart.
They say all good things must come to an end, and they do. I got older, the group split up and that was that... Or so I thought! Suddenly, without warning, there they were. I have a clear memory of watching their come back on the Today show, singing along to "Step By Step," getting goosebumps and jumping off the sofa with excitement..... but something was different this time. I wasn't 14 anymore! I could go wherever or pay whatever to see them because I was an adult! I soaked up this reunion like a sponge, and I haven't stopped. I don't shy away from my fan love (although some call it obsession), I embrace it.
This is my self soothing. Donnie makes me happy because he makes me feel like I'm 14 all over again. I don't know what it is about him, or even the group-- let's face it, I don't go to the concerts to hear them sing. I'm a realist, they aren't musical geniuses. When I'm in the midst of a concert, I'm no one's wife or mom. I'm a kid. I have no problems..... my mom isn't battling Cancer. I'm happy, dancing, singing.....
It's not a secret how sad I've been. So when the announcement of another New Kids cruise came out, I jumped at the chance. I secured my cabin with the girls and now I am counting down the days. Literally. Before I knew it, there was a rumor, then a rumble, then a tweet--- "Donnie Wahlberg's Birthday party -- VIP tickets on sale." Am I going? Hell yeah. Last year I celebrated his birthday with him, VIP style (which happened to fall on MY birthday-- see, I told you I celebrate big!), and I got a kiss. So why would I not go this year? It's going to be amazing and I'll be able to just breathe for a night. I have every intention of going and having a great time. Release some of this stress that I've been bottling up inside of me.
Danny, Donnie, Jordan, Joe and Jon are my guilty pleasure. My solace.
I remember when I saw him for the first time. I was 14, he was 19. It's a cliche, but I really did spot him across a crowded room, except he was on a stage. To me, Donnie Wahlberg was the perfect model of a man and listening to the music of New Kids on the Block was just pure, innocent fun. Going to their concerts and hanging up Donnie posters in my room was just FUN. It's what being a teenage girl is all about. It's a time in your life where you can either be a kid or try to be an adult. Sure there's stress, but it's teenager stress. I truly wish I had the problems I had when I was 14. 5 guys from Boston became my teen idols and stole my heart.
They say all good things must come to an end, and they do. I got older, the group split up and that was that... Or so I thought! Suddenly, without warning, there they were. I have a clear memory of watching their come back on the Today show, singing along to "Step By Step," getting goosebumps and jumping off the sofa with excitement..... but something was different this time. I wasn't 14 anymore! I could go wherever or pay whatever to see them because I was an adult! I soaked up this reunion like a sponge, and I haven't stopped. I don't shy away from my fan love (although some call it obsession), I embrace it.
This is my self soothing. Donnie makes me happy because he makes me feel like I'm 14 all over again. I don't know what it is about him, or even the group-- let's face it, I don't go to the concerts to hear them sing. I'm a realist, they aren't musical geniuses. When I'm in the midst of a concert, I'm no one's wife or mom. I'm a kid. I have no problems..... my mom isn't battling Cancer. I'm happy, dancing, singing.....
It's not a secret how sad I've been. So when the announcement of another New Kids cruise came out, I jumped at the chance. I secured my cabin with the girls and now I am counting down the days. Literally. Before I knew it, there was a rumor, then a rumble, then a tweet--- "Donnie Wahlberg's Birthday party -- VIP tickets on sale." Am I going? Hell yeah. Last year I celebrated his birthday with him, VIP style (which happened to fall on MY birthday-- see, I told you I celebrate big!), and I got a kiss. So why would I not go this year? It's going to be amazing and I'll be able to just breathe for a night. I have every intention of going and having a great time. Release some of this stress that I've been bottling up inside of me.
Danny, Donnie, Jordan, Joe and Jon are my guilty pleasure. My solace.
Sending Positive Vibes
Chemo treatment number two has been successfully completed at this point, but unfortunately the patient is not doing as well this time around. The "wonder" nausea drugs don't seem to be working as amazingly as they were before. Hopefully her fatigue and nausea will only last 24-48 hours this time. I've NEVER been able to handle my mom being sick-- even with a cold. Clearly, this only got worse after my dad got sick and died but you can add that statement after just about everything in my life.
Again, I believe the reason I hate seeing mom sick is another only child characteristic. Being an only child, your mom is your world. She's your rock for everything. My mom is my best friend and knows 100% of anything that goes in my life (of course I edit those things that I don't think she wants to know...sometimes). I don't think it's a mother daughter thing either.... I know this holds true for male only children-- based on experience. When there's only you, you are the only thing your mother lives and breathes for. There is nothing else. Her life revolves around you. Clearly, all mothers are like that with their children but it's not the same when you have only one to focus on.... it just isn't. I'm a mom to an only child and I can see myself developing these same feelings.
It's difficult to see her like this and makes me wonder what is going to happen in the up coming weeks. Is she going to get weaker? Probably. I don't mean to paint a picture of a gaunt, pale woman who can barely move. To look at her, you wouldn't know she was sick. She looks awesome-- much better than I do right now. So, I continue to pretend to remain positive around her.
Since I mentioned it, let's talk about this "positive attitude" bullshit. Yes, I agree that my mom and the rest of us need to stay positive because a positive attitude is what helps beat this horrific, miserable disease. I'm not a positive person. It's not a big secret but I can't change who I am after 35 years. I have seriously repressed emotion and memories from my dad's illness but as I've mentioned before, I was POSITIVE he wasn't going to die and we were going to add his name to the list of Cancer survivors. That didn't really work out too well for me the first time around so it's hard to rally. Part of the problem with my dad was he thought he was going to die. I don't recall him ever being positive about beating this disease. Overall, dad wasn't a glass is half full kind of guy-- clearly, I'm my father's daughter.
He was a fighter-- and tried hard to beat it but the Cancer was too far advanced that now I begin to think his fight was never going to be strong enough to beat the speed of how quickly the tumors grew and spread. Mom is a fighter too and her attitude is better than dad's was (and mine).
I think last night it just hit me hard for some reason--- and I realized that I am pretty much hanging off a ledge. I've worn myself down already from stress and worrying... literally to the point where I don't want to get out of bed in the morning. My saving grace? My daughter. I know that someone is depending on me now to take care of them so I force myself out of my bed and I face the day with a smile.... until I get to work or go run errands or pretty much any time I'm alone. Then I zone out.
I can't say that I've been curled up in the fetal position crying, but I sit with a blank stare. I literally think my brain is too full with noise to think. In typical only child fashion, I've taken my mom's illness and brought it back to me. It's selfish of me to be sitting here complaining about how sad and tired I am when I'm not the one fighting. It is my worst trait but I have perfected hiding it. I think?
Again, I believe the reason I hate seeing mom sick is another only child characteristic. Being an only child, your mom is your world. She's your rock for everything. My mom is my best friend and knows 100% of anything that goes in my life (of course I edit those things that I don't think she wants to know...sometimes). I don't think it's a mother daughter thing either.... I know this holds true for male only children-- based on experience. When there's only you, you are the only thing your mother lives and breathes for. There is nothing else. Her life revolves around you. Clearly, all mothers are like that with their children but it's not the same when you have only one to focus on.... it just isn't. I'm a mom to an only child and I can see myself developing these same feelings.
It's difficult to see her like this and makes me wonder what is going to happen in the up coming weeks. Is she going to get weaker? Probably. I don't mean to paint a picture of a gaunt, pale woman who can barely move. To look at her, you wouldn't know she was sick. She looks awesome-- much better than I do right now. So, I continue to pretend to remain positive around her.
Since I mentioned it, let's talk about this "positive attitude" bullshit. Yes, I agree that my mom and the rest of us need to stay positive because a positive attitude is what helps beat this horrific, miserable disease. I'm not a positive person. It's not a big secret but I can't change who I am after 35 years. I have seriously repressed emotion and memories from my dad's illness but as I've mentioned before, I was POSITIVE he wasn't going to die and we were going to add his name to the list of Cancer survivors. That didn't really work out too well for me the first time around so it's hard to rally. Part of the problem with my dad was he thought he was going to die. I don't recall him ever being positive about beating this disease. Overall, dad wasn't a glass is half full kind of guy-- clearly, I'm my father's daughter.
He was a fighter-- and tried hard to beat it but the Cancer was too far advanced that now I begin to think his fight was never going to be strong enough to beat the speed of how quickly the tumors grew and spread. Mom is a fighter too and her attitude is better than dad's was (and mine).
I think last night it just hit me hard for some reason--- and I realized that I am pretty much hanging off a ledge. I've worn myself down already from stress and worrying... literally to the point where I don't want to get out of bed in the morning. My saving grace? My daughter. I know that someone is depending on me now to take care of them so I force myself out of my bed and I face the day with a smile.... until I get to work or go run errands or pretty much any time I'm alone. Then I zone out.
I can't say that I've been curled up in the fetal position crying, but I sit with a blank stare. I literally think my brain is too full with noise to think. In typical only child fashion, I've taken my mom's illness and brought it back to me. It's selfish of me to be sitting here complaining about how sad and tired I am when I'm not the one fighting. It is my worst trait but I have perfected hiding it. I think?
Monday, August 16, 2010
My Aha! Moment
Since my mom's diagnosis, I've read books and blogs and pamphlets and web pages and everything else you can imagine in order to become the greatest authority on Esophageal Cancer. It wasn't easy to stay away from the statistics (which are bleak) but I focused only on Stage I related information. Since my husband imposed a moratorium on my use of WebMD or even that fun Mayo Clinic site, I was able to gather a great deal of information. My type A personality has completely taken over now--- because there is a BINDER. I have collected articles as well as the literature my mom's team of doctor's have given her. Clearly, she has strict instructions from me to ask for any additional reading material when she sees her doctors. It's good for me to be in the know.
Now, this isn't my first time at the rodeo. I know how this Cancer thing works first hand but I just kept digging to find more information. Then as I was organizing my binder I realized something very important--- I am overcompensating. I don't even think overcompensating fully describes what I'm doing-- I'm going to extremes.
When my dad was diagnosed with Cancer, I was 20 years old. He wasn't going to die because I was too young to have my dad die, obviously. He had to walk me down the aisle right? Dad's don't die before you get married-- because they have to walk you down the aisle. I focused on this a lot... I remember when the doctor gave us the news, I cried because well, that's what you do. But I heard phrases like "Stage IV" and "inoperable" and "spread fast" but then I was told he had an 89% chance of survival. So I focused on this statistic and listened to the doctor's positive attitude. From what I know NOW, Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma in Stage IV is pretty aggressive. But I was so focused on being positive and know that it was impossible for my dad to die.
I paid no attention to how big the tumor was or how sick chemo was making him. I also didn't think anything about the hair loss... or that he couldn't keep warm.... or that he had to retire... or that he couldn't drive anymore.... or that he wasn't eating. Nope, instead, I went to class or shopping with my friends. On the weekends, instead of going home to visit I partied with my friends because I was 20 and my father wasn't going to die.
Things looked OK for a while.... Then we got the news he was terminal. Hmmph. How can that be possible? He had a 89% chance of survival now they were giving him three months to live. Here I was, getting ready to graduate from college and my dad told me he was going to die. That there was nothing they could do at this point. I truly didn't understand. I kept hope alive that he was going to at least be here for graduation. He was alive but couldn't make it. He died 4 days later.
I blamed everyone around me who knew more than I did. I never understood how sick he really was. The Internet was up and running, so I'm sure I could have found some information but the easiest way would have been to open my eyes and ask questions. I didn't know what to do until it was too late.
Well, I'm much older and wiser now. I ask too many questions and read too much material but I can't be blindsided again. Too much information can be a bad thing --- no doubt about it. I didn't know anything when my dad was sick, which was my own fault so this time around I need to know EVERYTHING. I want to be prepared. My mom has pretty much told me I'm driving her crazy so I know I need to lay off.
My research has paid off in some ways. I now know that Stage I recovery is much better than Stage IV. I hold on to that hope but it's hard to be positive after what I've already lived through. I try to be positive and now that I've had this Aha! moment, then maybe I'll lay off the Internet.... at least for a little while.
Now, this isn't my first time at the rodeo. I know how this Cancer thing works first hand but I just kept digging to find more information. Then as I was organizing my binder I realized something very important--- I am overcompensating. I don't even think overcompensating fully describes what I'm doing-- I'm going to extremes.
When my dad was diagnosed with Cancer, I was 20 years old. He wasn't going to die because I was too young to have my dad die, obviously. He had to walk me down the aisle right? Dad's don't die before you get married-- because they have to walk you down the aisle. I focused on this a lot... I remember when the doctor gave us the news, I cried because well, that's what you do. But I heard phrases like "Stage IV" and "inoperable" and "spread fast" but then I was told he had an 89% chance of survival. So I focused on this statistic and listened to the doctor's positive attitude. From what I know NOW, Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma in Stage IV is pretty aggressive. But I was so focused on being positive and know that it was impossible for my dad to die.
I paid no attention to how big the tumor was or how sick chemo was making him. I also didn't think anything about the hair loss... or that he couldn't keep warm.... or that he had to retire... or that he couldn't drive anymore.... or that he wasn't eating. Nope, instead, I went to class or shopping with my friends. On the weekends, instead of going home to visit I partied with my friends because I was 20 and my father wasn't going to die.
Things looked OK for a while.... Then we got the news he was terminal. Hmmph. How can that be possible? He had a 89% chance of survival now they were giving him three months to live. Here I was, getting ready to graduate from college and my dad told me he was going to die. That there was nothing they could do at this point. I truly didn't understand. I kept hope alive that he was going to at least be here for graduation. He was alive but couldn't make it. He died 4 days later.
I blamed everyone around me who knew more than I did. I never understood how sick he really was. The Internet was up and running, so I'm sure I could have found some information but the easiest way would have been to open my eyes and ask questions. I didn't know what to do until it was too late.
Well, I'm much older and wiser now. I ask too many questions and read too much material but I can't be blindsided again. Too much information can be a bad thing --- no doubt about it. I didn't know anything when my dad was sick, which was my own fault so this time around I need to know EVERYTHING. I want to be prepared. My mom has pretty much told me I'm driving her crazy so I know I need to lay off.
My research has paid off in some ways. I now know that Stage I recovery is much better than Stage IV. I hold on to that hope but it's hard to be positive after what I've already lived through. I try to be positive and now that I've had this Aha! moment, then maybe I'll lay off the Internet.... at least for a little while.
Is this Italian guilt or just plain, old guilt?
In the last week, I've had some pretty exciting things happen to me. The house we've been building for the past 10 months is ready to become a home. Living in my mom's basement has been.... an experience. Although I appreciate all that she's done, it's not easy to go back home at 34 with your husband and a daughter. The closet of my dreams is complete. It looks amazing and I feel like a much cuter version of Carrie Bradshaw when I stand in it. Only difference will be instead of Manolos, my shoe rack will display Louboutins.
When I thought it couldn't get any more exciting, it did. I was able to book a cabin on the NKOTB cruise for May of next year. I'm not ashamed, I embrace my love for Donnie Wahlberg. Even though I thought it was going to be a once in a life time experience, it turns out this will be my second time going.
And what's the most exciting thing?? My birthday is coming up. Every only child (at least everyone I know) makes a HUGE deal about their birthday. Just because you get older doesn't mean the parties stop. I've been celebrating big on my birthday for years. It's not just a day of celebration.... It's a week... or even a whole month depending on the activities. My mom has always made my birthday the most special day EVER and she has never missed a year. I'm sure this year will be no different.
Here's the problem.... I can't get in the mood to celebrate. I've lost track of how many days until my birthday. I don't even have PLANS for my birthday. Layer that with how I feel terrible I'm moving out of this basement.... Or even taking this cruise. I shouldn't be happy, I should be sad. When my mind starts to wander from worrying about my mom, and I think about what I should be thinking about (ie. plan on how to decorate or what I'll say to Donnie when I see him AGAIN) I feel guilty. Not just a little guilty, but enough guilt that it drives me to the point of tears. I don't have the right to be happy right now-- it's not a happy time. Right?
How can I move out when my mom needs me to take care of her (even though I have been literally kicked out upstairs for being too depressing to look at)? I'm her only child, she needs me and now I'm leaving her. I'm moving only minutes away but it's not the same. When she got sick and needed to go to the emergency room, I was the only one there who could take her.... What happens now if she happens to be alone? It's rare that she is alone but again, what if??
The guilt is terrible.... it eats away at me like a tiny gnat. I really want to be excited about all these things but I feel so selfish. It feels unfair to be happy when I know I should be sad. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sad 85% of the time. I try to hide it best I can when I'm in a social environment but I'm sad. Oh and scared, let's not forget scared.
It's hard enough to be an only child and balance this guilt, but with my ethnic background contributing, it's almost unmanageable. I'm probably on the verge of a nervous breakdown of epic proportion. Clearly, I'm my own worst enemy but aren't we all?
When I thought it couldn't get any more exciting, it did. I was able to book a cabin on the NKOTB cruise for May of next year. I'm not ashamed, I embrace my love for Donnie Wahlberg. Even though I thought it was going to be a once in a life time experience, it turns out this will be my second time going.
And what's the most exciting thing?? My birthday is coming up. Every only child (at least everyone I know) makes a HUGE deal about their birthday. Just because you get older doesn't mean the parties stop. I've been celebrating big on my birthday for years. It's not just a day of celebration.... It's a week... or even a whole month depending on the activities. My mom has always made my birthday the most special day EVER and she has never missed a year. I'm sure this year will be no different.
Here's the problem.... I can't get in the mood to celebrate. I've lost track of how many days until my birthday. I don't even have PLANS for my birthday. Layer that with how I feel terrible I'm moving out of this basement.... Or even taking this cruise. I shouldn't be happy, I should be sad. When my mind starts to wander from worrying about my mom, and I think about what I should be thinking about (ie. plan on how to decorate or what I'll say to Donnie when I see him AGAIN) I feel guilty. Not just a little guilty, but enough guilt that it drives me to the point of tears. I don't have the right to be happy right now-- it's not a happy time. Right?
How can I move out when my mom needs me to take care of her (even though I have been literally kicked out upstairs for being too depressing to look at)? I'm her only child, she needs me and now I'm leaving her. I'm moving only minutes away but it's not the same. When she got sick and needed to go to the emergency room, I was the only one there who could take her.... What happens now if she happens to be alone? It's rare that she is alone but again, what if??
The guilt is terrible.... it eats away at me like a tiny gnat. I really want to be excited about all these things but I feel so selfish. It feels unfair to be happy when I know I should be sad. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty sad 85% of the time. I try to hide it best I can when I'm in a social environment but I'm sad. Oh and scared, let's not forget scared.
It's hard enough to be an only child and balance this guilt, but with my ethnic background contributing, it's almost unmanageable. I'm probably on the verge of a nervous breakdown of epic proportion. Clearly, I'm my own worst enemy but aren't we all?
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Helpless, Party of One
Sadly the miraculous chemo recovery lasts about 6 minutes. Since yesterday, mom's been getting increasingly weak, tired and battling severe stomach upset. She promised to ask for help if she needs it but the problem is, she WON'T ask for help. She won't even be honest about how she feels. When you ask, the response is always, "Oh, I'm just fine." Does just fine mean you sleep for hours at a time? Or that you have no appetite? I think not.
We are berated by her when we ask her what she needs or how she feels. Instead, we just sit there. My daughter is the only thing which appears to bring her some type of happiness but after about 10 minutes, she's too weak to play with her.
I feel helpless..... I want to do what I can to make her feel better but there's nothing I can do, and if there was she wouldn't tell me. I know that part of me is trying to overcompensate for my total absence during my father's illness. Sure, I was away at college but I was less than an hour away. My mom nursed him day and night while I was in Boston having a great time with my friends. I have many, many. many regrets about how I handled my father's illness. I should have done more.
My time here at this house is limited. We're scheduled to move into our new house before the end of the month and now is my time to try and help her. She isn't alone by any means but I feel useless. Even if I could help, let's not forget, she LIES. She is the WORST patient-- but I am sure nurses make the worst patients. They can take care of themselves and they don't need any help. But they're wrong.
It gives me knots in my stomach.... I wonder what's going to happen after her next chemo treatment on Tuesday. My husband tells me I need to stop worrying about things I can't control--- but that's not me. I need to control everything. I'm an only child -- that's what we fucking do. We try to control everything and make it work how we want it to be.
So what are my options? I don't know. I try to be a mom in the midst of all this but I can guarantee if I were to be graded right now I'd get a C... or maybe a C+. I have a great deal of things going on in my life that I should be excited about it but I'm not. I just feel helpless and sad....
We are berated by her when we ask her what she needs or how she feels. Instead, we just sit there. My daughter is the only thing which appears to bring her some type of happiness but after about 10 minutes, she's too weak to play with her.
I feel helpless..... I want to do what I can to make her feel better but there's nothing I can do, and if there was she wouldn't tell me. I know that part of me is trying to overcompensate for my total absence during my father's illness. Sure, I was away at college but I was less than an hour away. My mom nursed him day and night while I was in Boston having a great time with my friends. I have many, many. many regrets about how I handled my father's illness. I should have done more.
My time here at this house is limited. We're scheduled to move into our new house before the end of the month and now is my time to try and help her. She isn't alone by any means but I feel useless. Even if I could help, let's not forget, she LIES. She is the WORST patient-- but I am sure nurses make the worst patients. They can take care of themselves and they don't need any help. But they're wrong.
It gives me knots in my stomach.... I wonder what's going to happen after her next chemo treatment on Tuesday. My husband tells me I need to stop worrying about things I can't control--- but that's not me. I need to control everything. I'm an only child -- that's what we fucking do. We try to control everything and make it work how we want it to be.
So what are my options? I don't know. I try to be a mom in the midst of all this but I can guarantee if I were to be graded right now I'd get a C... or maybe a C+. I have a great deal of things going on in my life that I should be excited about it but I'm not. I just feel helpless and sad....
Friday, August 13, 2010
So THAT'S what friends are for!
I fully expected the next entry on this blog would be about nursing my mom through her first chemo treatment but, she did amazingly well. So well that she spent the day washing windows with newspaper (of course, as any Italian mom would) and making dough boys. She slept well. Feels well. Continues to be in great spirits. What more can I ask for right? Then why am I still so negative? It's tiring to be this anxious all the time.
From the time of my mom's diagnosis, I learned something very important. I truly thought I was alone, but I'm not. I'm surrounded by amazing family and friends. My main support is my husband. He's grounded, positive and a realist-- everything I'm not. His outlook on life is different, which I attribute to his service in Iraq, but I am learning to embrace his views. Most importantly, at the end of the day, getting good night squeezes and kisses from my daughter releases me. But, at a time like this, I need more.... I want more.
I always thought I would love a sibling now, but you know what? I feel like my friends and my cousins are siblings to me. A strong characteristic of only children is their loyalty and their desire for strong friendship bonds. We hold on tightly to the friendships we have because they are an extension of family. They replace the non-existence of a sibling.
In times of tragedy, you realize the real meaning of Godparents (mine are amazing, FYI) and your cousins take on the role of brother and sister. Thankfully, I have two that were beside me when my father died and continue to be while I deal with my mom's illness. They're different from me--- they don't understand me and never will, but love me to death.
My friends on the other hand, are a different story. I have very few people in my life that I consider to be best/close/dear friends--- I don't believe in having just one. Doesn't make sense because I have a lot of love and drama to share so why pin it all on one person. They can broken down into several categories:
1. "I'll Cry With You"-- These are the friends that I can call day or night. They will just sit and cry with me-- no words need to be said. Just lots of hugs and tears.
2. "Let's Go Out and Forget About It" -- These friends want to take my out, ply me with alcohol, get me on a dance floor and have me forget all my troubles. We don't talk about the Cancer or chemo or radical surgery. We live in the moment and laugh, laugh, laugh.
3. "Laughing Until You Can't Breathe"-- I have to say, these are some of my favorite friends. They are clever beyond belief and challenge my wits. Making obscure pop culture references or sending me random movie quote texts just when I need it most tends to brighten my day. They have a dry, sarcastic sense of humor and I can always count on them to make me smile.
4. "We're So Connected it's Eerie" - friends like this are considered my soul twin. I married my soul mate, so this is the next best thing. These friends can sense when I am sad and know exactly when to call, text, visit, etc. They know I need them...... they are my main artery.
Sure, there is crossover between these groups but generally these are the people right now, and they know who they are and where they fall without me naming them. I adore my friends. It's in times of extreme sadness, such as this or extreme happiness, such as planning a wedding or having a baby, that you realize who your TRUE friends are and family. I am truly blessed to have these people in my life. I look forward to their support over the upcoming weeks.
From the time of my mom's diagnosis, I learned something very important. I truly thought I was alone, but I'm not. I'm surrounded by amazing family and friends. My main support is my husband. He's grounded, positive and a realist-- everything I'm not. His outlook on life is different, which I attribute to his service in Iraq, but I am learning to embrace his views. Most importantly, at the end of the day, getting good night squeezes and kisses from my daughter releases me. But, at a time like this, I need more.... I want more.
I always thought I would love a sibling now, but you know what? I feel like my friends and my cousins are siblings to me. A strong characteristic of only children is their loyalty and their desire for strong friendship bonds. We hold on tightly to the friendships we have because they are an extension of family. They replace the non-existence of a sibling.
In times of tragedy, you realize the real meaning of Godparents (mine are amazing, FYI) and your cousins take on the role of brother and sister. Thankfully, I have two that were beside me when my father died and continue to be while I deal with my mom's illness. They're different from me--- they don't understand me and never will, but love me to death.
My friends on the other hand, are a different story. I have very few people in my life that I consider to be best/close/dear friends--- I don't believe in having just one. Doesn't make sense because I have a lot of love and drama to share so why pin it all on one person. They can broken down into several categories:
1. "I'll Cry With You"-- These are the friends that I can call day or night. They will just sit and cry with me-- no words need to be said. Just lots of hugs and tears.
2. "Let's Go Out and Forget About It" -- These friends want to take my out, ply me with alcohol, get me on a dance floor and have me forget all my troubles. We don't talk about the Cancer or chemo or radical surgery. We live in the moment and laugh, laugh, laugh.
3. "Laughing Until You Can't Breathe"-- I have to say, these are some of my favorite friends. They are clever beyond belief and challenge my wits. Making obscure pop culture references or sending me random movie quote texts just when I need it most tends to brighten my day. They have a dry, sarcastic sense of humor and I can always count on them to make me smile.
4. "We're So Connected it's Eerie" - friends like this are considered my soul twin. I married my soul mate, so this is the next best thing. These friends can sense when I am sad and know exactly when to call, text, visit, etc. They know I need them...... they are my main artery.
Sure, there is crossover between these groups but generally these are the people right now, and they know who they are and where they fall without me naming them. I adore my friends. It's in times of extreme sadness, such as this or extreme happiness, such as planning a wedding or having a baby, that you realize who your TRUE friends are and family. I am truly blessed to have these people in my life. I look forward to their support over the upcoming weeks.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
C-Day
It's here. The big day. Chemotherapy is beginning and then she is off to radiation. Both treatments will be going on simultaneously. Although Chemo is only once a week, radiation is EVERY DAY. The next 6 weeks cannot go by fast enough. Since I am 35 and live in her basement, every morning I go up stairs before I leave for work to kiss her good bye (clearly I'm Italian).
Walking up the stairs to see her I felt my heart in throat as I didn't know what to expect. Was she going to be a wreck like I AM? Was she going to be silent and scared? Or even worse, crying? (if there is one thing I can't handle, it's seeing my mom cry. It breaks my heart into a million pieces). But, Um, NO. I didn't encounter any of that. Instead, there she was packing a snack, making sure her Kindle was charged and getting ready to iron her clothes (yes, my mom is the only person who doesn't go in lounging clothes for chemo I'm sure). With a big smile, I got my normal, "Good Morning Princess. How did you sleep?" as if it were any other Wednesday. It was as if she was getting ready for a day of errands--- not a day of having poisonous chemicals being pumped through her. It was at that moment I decided, my mom is the bravest woman I know and I can only aspire to more like her.
Today, SHE is MY inspiration to remain calm and stay positive. I have mounds of guilt not being there with her but next week it's my turn. For weeks I thought she was putting up a front of being brave and positive but it's not a front--- it's real. She knows she is going to beat this and I need to join that club. Seriously, if she's not scared, then why am I? When I left for work, I wished her luck and told her I loved her--- like I do everyday. Today I will think of the big hug she gave me, because for a split second, I felt like everything was going to be all right.
I can't lie, today I wish I had a brother or a sister that I could call to share this burden. I've never regretted being an only child except for now and when my dad died. Maybe it would be nice to have an older sibling to sit and hold my hand while we cry together or even encourage one another to stay positive.
I am working today and it will be tough but I am surrounded by amazing co-workers and a truly understanding manager which may help. My intention is to keep busy here and start to focus on the exciting events coming up over the next few weeks.
Walking up the stairs to see her I felt my heart in throat as I didn't know what to expect. Was she going to be a wreck like I AM? Was she going to be silent and scared? Or even worse, crying? (if there is one thing I can't handle, it's seeing my mom cry. It breaks my heart into a million pieces). But, Um, NO. I didn't encounter any of that. Instead, there she was packing a snack, making sure her Kindle was charged and getting ready to iron her clothes (yes, my mom is the only person who doesn't go in lounging clothes for chemo I'm sure). With a big smile, I got my normal, "Good Morning Princess. How did you sleep?" as if it were any other Wednesday. It was as if she was getting ready for a day of errands--- not a day of having poisonous chemicals being pumped through her. It was at that moment I decided, my mom is the bravest woman I know and I can only aspire to more like her.
Today, SHE is MY inspiration to remain calm and stay positive. I have mounds of guilt not being there with her but next week it's my turn. For weeks I thought she was putting up a front of being brave and positive but it's not a front--- it's real. She knows she is going to beat this and I need to join that club. Seriously, if she's not scared, then why am I? When I left for work, I wished her luck and told her I loved her--- like I do everyday. Today I will think of the big hug she gave me, because for a split second, I felt like everything was going to be all right.
I can't lie, today I wish I had a brother or a sister that I could call to share this burden. I've never regretted being an only child except for now and when my dad died. Maybe it would be nice to have an older sibling to sit and hold my hand while we cry together or even encourage one another to stay positive.
I am working today and it will be tough but I am surrounded by amazing co-workers and a truly understanding manager which may help. My intention is to keep busy here and start to focus on the exciting events coming up over the next few weeks.
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