The fifth year is a big deal to a cancer survivor. Its the time when you go from having a follow-up every 6 months (or every year, for some)...to being in the clear. Your chance of "survival", or no re-occurance, or just having a normal-no-going-to-the-hospital-and-having-to-say-imafreakingcancerpatient....you are supposed to be wrapping it up the 5th year.
My fifth year isn't looking like that. I seem to have had an unusual situation, where the 4 years following surgery were sweet and now....not so sweet.
im pissed.
the reasons that bother me are so bothersome and, frankly, embarassing.....i can't adequately describe in words.
its such a downer.
i really wanted to celebrate this year.
Life after the Sarcoma/ Knee-Bunion Adventure.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
In the Sweet Bye and Bye
This morning started out like any other day.
On our way to school, I had to pull over to let a firetruck whiz past and, as I was pulled over and looking ahead, I saw where he was going. There was a wreck directly at the entrance of our school. The cars were backed up in both directions and several cars in front of me were turning around so that they didn't have to wait. Everything was at a stand-still--including my heart.
I was rubber-necking like I never have before, hoping to see that everything was ok and to see if it was someone from school. We saw two mangled cars, with airbags askew...and then i saw some people on the side of the road. Tread saw them too.
This was the moment that is the freeze-frame of my mind: Tread yelled "It's Sydney!" , a classmate and good friend of his. When I looked to see a woman leaning over a person laid beside the car, for a moment i also thought it this girl and her mother. The moment I realized that it was not who we both thought it was, time resumed its normal pace and i was overwhelmed with relief. As I focused on trying to get past the wreckage and navigate my way towards the school, I tried to maintain composure and reassure my son that his friend was not in the wreck. We prayed that those involved would be ok. I saw that the person was moving and the ambulance was there, so things seemed positive.
The scene at the school was unlike most mornings, where the normal hustle and bustle was replaced with quiet, concerned faces looking out the windows. Teachers had calculated calm instructions for the kids in the classrooms, as they met in the hallway and whispered what they had seen or heard. The secretary was fielding phone calls.
Tread's teacher had some of his work to show me, so I followed her to the classroom. Conversation veered back to the events of the morning and she shared that she had lost both her grandparents at once in a fatal accident. As she was telling me the story, it dawned on her that this week was the 9th anniversary of when it happened. She remembers the details of how they had just come to visit her hours before the accident, and her grandfather told her how much he loved her. She recalled the moment with vivid clarity.
A week after their deaths, she said it was a dreary day and she was overwhelmed with sadness. She recounted how she pulled up to her house and saw 2 "little brown birds" splashing in some water and, for some reason, it caught her eye. She told me that the hymn "In the Sweet Bye and Bye" was playing in her car at that moment and she felt an incredible peace come over her. She watched the birds, listened to the song and felt ok.
I left the school building and sat in my car, watching as the wreckers loaded up the twisted cars, this old hymn going through my head.
A regular routine of a morning, to be shaken up by an unforeseen event. The people involved in the accident had been going through their regular morning routine, as well. Little do they realize the impact their experience had on everyone in our little school. Prayers sent up in little voices....memories recounted by sentimental adults. So many things to be thankful for. A day like every other day....a gft.
As I sat in my car, pondering these thoughts and emotions, a blue flurry outside caught my eye. A few precious bluebirds were scurrying about...which always makes me smile.
On our way to school, I had to pull over to let a firetruck whiz past and, as I was pulled over and looking ahead, I saw where he was going. There was a wreck directly at the entrance of our school. The cars were backed up in both directions and several cars in front of me were turning around so that they didn't have to wait. Everything was at a stand-still--including my heart.
I was rubber-necking like I never have before, hoping to see that everything was ok and to see if it was someone from school. We saw two mangled cars, with airbags askew...and then i saw some people on the side of the road. Tread saw them too.
This was the moment that is the freeze-frame of my mind: Tread yelled "It's Sydney!" , a classmate and good friend of his. When I looked to see a woman leaning over a person laid beside the car, for a moment i also thought it this girl and her mother. The moment I realized that it was not who we both thought it was, time resumed its normal pace and i was overwhelmed with relief. As I focused on trying to get past the wreckage and navigate my way towards the school, I tried to maintain composure and reassure my son that his friend was not in the wreck. We prayed that those involved would be ok. I saw that the person was moving and the ambulance was there, so things seemed positive.
The scene at the school was unlike most mornings, where the normal hustle and bustle was replaced with quiet, concerned faces looking out the windows. Teachers had calculated calm instructions for the kids in the classrooms, as they met in the hallway and whispered what they had seen or heard. The secretary was fielding phone calls.
Tread's teacher had some of his work to show me, so I followed her to the classroom. Conversation veered back to the events of the morning and she shared that she had lost both her grandparents at once in a fatal accident. As she was telling me the story, it dawned on her that this week was the 9th anniversary of when it happened. She remembers the details of how they had just come to visit her hours before the accident, and her grandfather told her how much he loved her. She recalled the moment with vivid clarity.
A week after their deaths, she said it was a dreary day and she was overwhelmed with sadness. She recounted how she pulled up to her house and saw 2 "little brown birds" splashing in some water and, for some reason, it caught her eye. She told me that the hymn "In the Sweet Bye and Bye" was playing in her car at that moment and she felt an incredible peace come over her. She watched the birds, listened to the song and felt ok.
I left the school building and sat in my car, watching as the wreckers loaded up the twisted cars, this old hymn going through my head.
A regular routine of a morning, to be shaken up by an unforeseen event. The people involved in the accident had been going through their regular morning routine, as well. Little do they realize the impact their experience had on everyone in our little school. Prayers sent up in little voices....memories recounted by sentimental adults. So many things to be thankful for. A day like every other day....a gft.
As I sat in my car, pondering these thoughts and emotions, a blue flurry outside caught my eye. A few precious bluebirds were scurrying about...which always makes me smile.
There's a land that is fairer than day,
And by faith we can see it afar;
For the Father waits over the way
To prepare us a dwelling place there.
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
We shall sing on that beautiful shore
The melodious songs of the blessed;
And our spirits shall sorrow no more,
Not a sigh for the blessing of rest.
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
To our bountiful Father above,
We will offer our tribute of praise
For the glorious gift of His love
And the blessings that hallow our days.
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
And by faith we can see it afar;
For the Father waits over the way
To prepare us a dwelling place there.
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
We shall sing on that beautiful shore
The melodious songs of the blessed;
And our spirits shall sorrow no more,
Not a sigh for the blessing of rest.
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
To our bountiful Father above,
We will offer our tribute of praise
For the glorious gift of His love
And the blessings that hallow our days.
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore;
In the sweet by and by,
We shall meet on that beautiful shore.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Let's dwell.....
So I'm 40 now. Thank God Ive got that behind me and i can quit saying "I'm fixin' to be 40".
The anticipation leading up to the birthday was maddening, but that frame of mind included post-holiday doldrums, coupled with some cabin fever. Also, we've had some crappy weather lately and i haven't been outside like i usually like to be. PLUS...i've dwelled. I agonized, over-analyzed, read too much Internet stuff, watched Dr.Oz too much....dwelled! I'm soooo ready to move on.
i think.
First i might want to write about dwelling.
Really, it isn't too terribly different, this 40 thing. It just so happens that some pretty significant changes are taking place as I reach this milestone. I have realized in recent years that I function better with a little routine, and i get out-of-sorts when things interfere with this routine. (Just writing/acknowledging that makes me feel "set in my ways"...which is technically the polar opposite of "young-and-hip", right?)
That's ok...I am embracing the right to say whatever i damn-well please, because that's what we GET to do as we get older, right???!!! Today I actually started a conversation with "Well, I really like Consumer Reports because..." For realz.
The biggest change that i am dealing with is a career change. Since I had been a stay-at-home mom for 5 years, I think this transition has gone a little smoother than it could have if I'd switched gears from a full-time job, though. Also, after spending a year in the classroom, I was very, VERY motivated to make this opportunity work. The timing was perfect...even if going from Middle School Art Teacher to Tattoo Artist sounded crazy to a LOT of people.
Even if it sounds crazy to some, to me it truly seems like the right thing to do...so I've jumped in with both feet. I will be an apprentice for a long time to come, and that is a very humbling position to be in. I enjoy learning something new, but there are days that I wish I had more confidence and become impatient about that. Of course, often my thoughts run to "if only i had started this when i was younger...". At my age, it seems like I ought to be really good at what i do for a living. I felt that confidence with teaching...and i know that eventually, I can work up to that in this field. This thought haunts me: I don't have as much time as I used to.
That haunting thought started with Cancer and never left. My experience definitely had an impact on me, but so has losing several people to It. Cancer is freaking scary...and unpredictable. Every minute of every day counts.
I can understand some of the stereotypes people put on old-timers, one of them being "grumpy" or "cranky". I am (hesitantly) starting to relate. Time goes by quicker, your body starts to change or quits cooperating, people you love get sick or die, babies grow up, hair falls out or turns gray (!!) your sense of humor becomes dated, young people call you ma'am or don't acknowledge you, you become acutely aware of your diet, you like Consumer Reports, etc......of course we get grumpy! What the hell?
Ok, so i am a potentially cranky gal on a new career path! It's exciting and I'm taking it on as a challenge...awkward, uncomfortable, humbling moments and all! It's the other Big Change that makes things a little more challenging:
Quitting Smoking.
I was a closet smoker and pretty much in denial about how much these Stinky Sticks had eeked their way into my life. For years, I bragged that I had this smoking thing at "arms-length" and "I told the cigs when i was going to have them, they didn't tell me!" Ha!
While it's true that I only smoked in social settings for years...and did not smoke for the entire 9 months i was pregnant, nor the 13 months i nursed...I was fooling myself about the power of the cigarettes addictive nature. I didnt' even realize it when they crept into my daily routine (there's that confounded word again!) until i tried to cut them out. They made it known, very abruptly, that I DID need them and they would now be the ones saying when I needed them. I was no longer in control of that little relationship.
So I broke it off.
...but like a jilted ex of an abusive lover, i still pine for them, at times. Then, I have to deny myself and struggle with a few things: 1) I am not young and care-free 2) that habit is chipping away at years that are dwindling away anyway 3) I can't set a bad example for my son 4) its time to learn some self-discipline, dagnabit! Man, it was so much easier in my 20's, when i thought i had my whole life ahead of me, my body was resilient and i was only responsible for myself. Easy Street.
Well...now "Easy Street" is wrought with potholes, the street lamps are dimming and the sidewalks are cracked. It's not as long as it used to be, there are some really bumpy sections and you are going to have some unexpected detours.
Good thing i have a jeep.
I can handle it.
It's an adventure.
What's wrong with dwelling, anyway?
The anticipation leading up to the birthday was maddening, but that frame of mind included post-holiday doldrums, coupled with some cabin fever. Also, we've had some crappy weather lately and i haven't been outside like i usually like to be. PLUS...i've dwelled. I agonized, over-analyzed, read too much Internet stuff, watched Dr.Oz too much....dwelled! I'm soooo ready to move on.
i think.
First i might want to write about dwelling.
Really, it isn't too terribly different, this 40 thing. It just so happens that some pretty significant changes are taking place as I reach this milestone. I have realized in recent years that I function better with a little routine, and i get out-of-sorts when things interfere with this routine. (Just writing/acknowledging that makes me feel "set in my ways"...which is technically the polar opposite of "young-and-hip", right?)
That's ok...I am embracing the right to say whatever i damn-well please, because that's what we GET to do as we get older, right???!!! Today I actually started a conversation with "Well, I really like Consumer Reports because..." For realz.
The biggest change that i am dealing with is a career change. Since I had been a stay-at-home mom for 5 years, I think this transition has gone a little smoother than it could have if I'd switched gears from a full-time job, though. Also, after spending a year in the classroom, I was very, VERY motivated to make this opportunity work. The timing was perfect...even if going from Middle School Art Teacher to Tattoo Artist sounded crazy to a LOT of people.
Even if it sounds crazy to some, to me it truly seems like the right thing to do...so I've jumped in with both feet. I will be an apprentice for a long time to come, and that is a very humbling position to be in. I enjoy learning something new, but there are days that I wish I had more confidence and become impatient about that. Of course, often my thoughts run to "if only i had started this when i was younger...". At my age, it seems like I ought to be really good at what i do for a living. I felt that confidence with teaching...and i know that eventually, I can work up to that in this field. This thought haunts me: I don't have as much time as I used to.
That haunting thought started with Cancer and never left. My experience definitely had an impact on me, but so has losing several people to It. Cancer is freaking scary...and unpredictable. Every minute of every day counts.
I can understand some of the stereotypes people put on old-timers, one of them being "grumpy" or "cranky". I am (hesitantly) starting to relate. Time goes by quicker, your body starts to change or quits cooperating, people you love get sick or die, babies grow up, hair falls out or turns gray (!!) your sense of humor becomes dated, young people call you ma'am or don't acknowledge you, you become acutely aware of your diet, you like Consumer Reports, etc......of course we get grumpy! What the hell?
Ok, so i am a potentially cranky gal on a new career path! It's exciting and I'm taking it on as a challenge...awkward, uncomfortable, humbling moments and all! It's the other Big Change that makes things a little more challenging:
Quitting Smoking.
I was a closet smoker and pretty much in denial about how much these Stinky Sticks had eeked their way into my life. For years, I bragged that I had this smoking thing at "arms-length" and "I told the cigs when i was going to have them, they didn't tell me!" Ha!
While it's true that I only smoked in social settings for years...and did not smoke for the entire 9 months i was pregnant, nor the 13 months i nursed...I was fooling myself about the power of the cigarettes addictive nature. I didnt' even realize it when they crept into my daily routine (there's that confounded word again!) until i tried to cut them out. They made it known, very abruptly, that I DID need them and they would now be the ones saying when I needed them. I was no longer in control of that little relationship.
So I broke it off.
...but like a jilted ex of an abusive lover, i still pine for them, at times. Then, I have to deny myself and struggle with a few things: 1) I am not young and care-free 2) that habit is chipping away at years that are dwindling away anyway 3) I can't set a bad example for my son 4) its time to learn some self-discipline, dagnabit! Man, it was so much easier in my 20's, when i thought i had my whole life ahead of me, my body was resilient and i was only responsible for myself. Easy Street.
Well...now "Easy Street" is wrought with potholes, the street lamps are dimming and the sidewalks are cracked. It's not as long as it used to be, there are some really bumpy sections and you are going to have some unexpected detours.
Good thing i have a jeep.
I can handle it.
It's an adventure.
What's wrong with dwelling, anyway?
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Sleep Crap-nea
Nice rainy night + loud snoring + thoughts keeping me up= BlogTime.
Thoughts in my head:
* I'm in my last month of my 30's. January brings on the big 40.
* I'm very content with most aspects of my life...yet my confidence about some things wanes.
* My "trick" knee/leg have been acting funny. It pisses me off...and the reason i'm most pissed is a little stupid and too vain for me to admit in print right now.
* I think i might need to change blog format.
* freakin Indian Meal moths have INVADED my house and made me a spastic-Tourettes-reacting neurotic nut.
* I dont trust the food industry. I still like the crap they sell though.
* I quit cigarettes. Sometimes i miss them...i won't dwell on that...this is prime-smoking trigger-time
* I love my new job...it's going to take some time to feel the confidence i'd like, though. I really want to pull my weight at the shop and sometimes i don't feel like i am contributing as much as the other artists. It's a time thing: i'm the only one there with a kid.
* I'm become scared of cancer. More now, than when i had it.
* i am also very pissed at cancer now.
To summarize:
I'm an insecure, obsessive, neurotic, paranoid hypochondriac, with a gimp leg and a chip on her shoulder, who lacks confidence, yet switched careers and gave up smoking at the ripe age of 40. Maybe its a good thing i'm scatter-brained and lack focus; I don't really dwell on any of the points and my usual state is happiness..but then there is something to remind me...and distract me.
No wonder i can't sleep.
Thoughts in my head:
* I'm in my last month of my 30's. January brings on the big 40.
* I'm very content with most aspects of my life...yet my confidence about some things wanes.
* My "trick" knee/leg have been acting funny. It pisses me off...and the reason i'm most pissed is a little stupid and too vain for me to admit in print right now.
* I think i might need to change blog format.
* freakin Indian Meal moths have INVADED my house and made me a spastic-Tourettes-reacting neurotic nut.
* I dont trust the food industry. I still like the crap they sell though.
* I quit cigarettes. Sometimes i miss them...i won't dwell on that...this is prime-smoking trigger-time
* I love my new job...it's going to take some time to feel the confidence i'd like, though. I really want to pull my weight at the shop and sometimes i don't feel like i am contributing as much as the other artists. It's a time thing: i'm the only one there with a kid.
* I'm become scared of cancer. More now, than when i had it.
* i am also very pissed at cancer now.
To summarize:
I'm an insecure, obsessive, neurotic, paranoid hypochondriac, with a gimp leg and a chip on her shoulder, who lacks confidence, yet switched careers and gave up smoking at the ripe age of 40. Maybe its a good thing i'm scatter-brained and lack focus; I don't really dwell on any of the points and my usual state is happiness..but then there is something to remind me...and distract me.
No wonder i can't sleep.
Friday, November 19, 2010
from "Daddy" to "Marilyn"
Today was just one of those days that i can't say "good-night" to, until i recap.
This morning, before i even went to work, i had a FULL day; none of which will pertain to this post....but note-worthy in that i had pretty much had a great day by noon. Little did i know the rest of the day would be a doozy.
Before noon: exercised with Wii, Violin lesson with T, drove 3 young'uns to nursing home field trip, served hot lunch at t's school, nap, shower, work.
Badda Bing, Badda Boom: full day, right? Wrong!
THEN...right after i arrived to work, my first appointment came early and i had to hit the ground running. She was a former student; one of the best I had from "Alcatraz". She entrusted my newbie skills to a sentimental cross, which was commemorating the loss of her father. She had the design ready to go...so i gave her a good deal. We were both happy with how it turned out.
The rest of the day was spent working on various things until the next, and last, fella came in. He came right up to me and said he wanted a tattoo that said "Marilyn" with some dates. He was kinda scruffy and not exactly pleasant in the olfactory department...but he had an itch and was cool with letting an apprentice scratch it.
He was a stocky little dude; I pretty much towered over him. From his clothes, boots and hands, i gathered that he was hard-working; to the point of wearing out the deoderant he may or may not have worn at some point today. He had a few home-made tats, which can typically cause one to make certain assumptions about his life experiences. Based on a brief conversation, involving some pretty creative grammatical slaughtering, I could gather that he probably hadn't been too interested in school. And i won't even go into the dental hygene....or lack thereof.
These were all obvious details that most people see about this guy. All us assholes judging a book by a cover.
In this shop, where this guy felt comfortable to be himself, I got to learn a little more. It turns out that the name he wanted was his mothers name. The dates were her birthday and the day she died. He described a yellow rose for her, the name and the dates...and said he'd been thinking about getting a tattoo since he had been to her funeral...2 months ago. She was buried states away and, since he couldn't visit her headstone in some depressing cemetary far from here, he wanted this tattoo to see everyday.
During the next few hours, I learned more about this guy...and his relationship to his mom. She had left him when he was a kid. As he told me the story, he revisited the pain that caused (and likely still does) as a young boy, but told me how he understood the circumstances in which she left. He later ran away to be with her and, after a turmultuous reunion, he spent his teenage years making up for lost time. He said they were best friends.
Never mind that this guy called his "significant other" his "Old Lady"....and he asked me what my "Old Man" thought about my tattooing. (Santa? Father Time? Who's my Old Man?) He also said things like "I ain't trippin" and called me "Dude". I could look past all that and see the consideration in his forewarned "I'm gonna sweat....and its gonna stink." As crude as that is, i think it was his way of giving me a heads up (noses up) and being considerate.
I don't know; maybe being a mom to a son has made me all sappy. Maybe i've huffed too many B.O fumes and am not thinking straight...but i found it endearing that even this "unsavory" fella missed his mama. His eyes watered when he talked about remembering the sound of her laugh, how he dreamed about her recently....and how he doesn't remember the funeral.
I asked him if she would like the tattoo and he said "Hell, yeah."
We tattooed it on his chest, over his heart.
This morning, before i even went to work, i had a FULL day; none of which will pertain to this post....but note-worthy in that i had pretty much had a great day by noon. Little did i know the rest of the day would be a doozy.
Before noon: exercised with Wii, Violin lesson with T, drove 3 young'uns to nursing home field trip, served hot lunch at t's school, nap, shower, work.
Badda Bing, Badda Boom: full day, right? Wrong!
THEN...right after i arrived to work, my first appointment came early and i had to hit the ground running. She was a former student; one of the best I had from "Alcatraz". She entrusted my newbie skills to a sentimental cross, which was commemorating the loss of her father. She had the design ready to go...so i gave her a good deal. We were both happy with how it turned out.
The rest of the day was spent working on various things until the next, and last, fella came in. He came right up to me and said he wanted a tattoo that said "Marilyn" with some dates. He was kinda scruffy and not exactly pleasant in the olfactory department...but he had an itch and was cool with letting an apprentice scratch it.
He was a stocky little dude; I pretty much towered over him. From his clothes, boots and hands, i gathered that he was hard-working; to the point of wearing out the deoderant he may or may not have worn at some point today. He had a few home-made tats, which can typically cause one to make certain assumptions about his life experiences. Based on a brief conversation, involving some pretty creative grammatical slaughtering, I could gather that he probably hadn't been too interested in school. And i won't even go into the dental hygene....or lack thereof.
These were all obvious details that most people see about this guy. All us assholes judging a book by a cover.
In this shop, where this guy felt comfortable to be himself, I got to learn a little more. It turns out that the name he wanted was his mothers name. The dates were her birthday and the day she died. He described a yellow rose for her, the name and the dates...and said he'd been thinking about getting a tattoo since he had been to her funeral...2 months ago. She was buried states away and, since he couldn't visit her headstone in some depressing cemetary far from here, he wanted this tattoo to see everyday.
During the next few hours, I learned more about this guy...and his relationship to his mom. She had left him when he was a kid. As he told me the story, he revisited the pain that caused (and likely still does) as a young boy, but told me how he understood the circumstances in which she left. He later ran away to be with her and, after a turmultuous reunion, he spent his teenage years making up for lost time. He said they were best friends.
Never mind that this guy called his "significant other" his "Old Lady"....and he asked me what my "Old Man" thought about my tattooing. (Santa? Father Time? Who's my Old Man?) He also said things like "I ain't trippin" and called me "Dude". I could look past all that and see the consideration in his forewarned "I'm gonna sweat....and its gonna stink." As crude as that is, i think it was his way of giving me a heads up (noses up) and being considerate.
I don't know; maybe being a mom to a son has made me all sappy. Maybe i've huffed too many B.O fumes and am not thinking straight...but i found it endearing that even this "unsavory" fella missed his mama. His eyes watered when he talked about remembering the sound of her laugh, how he dreamed about her recently....and how he doesn't remember the funeral.
I asked him if she would like the tattoo and he said "Hell, yeah."
We tattooed it on his chest, over his heart.
Another come-back?
So.....I have a new job at a Casey's Tattoo. I realize it is a huge leap from recent posts, but i don't even know how to catch up writing about it. In fact, the thought of summarizing is so daunting that it has kept me from writing at all. I don't even know where to begin.
I also toyed with the idea of starting another blog--AGAIN? Then i figured that would be like my penchant for buying cookbooks--even though i don't cook!! Just because it's new & exciting doesn't mean i'm actually going to put it to use.
Tonite i just wanted to write, so i threw aside all creative block-obstacles. I reckon i'll stick with this old blog. It's been here for me all this time....
I also toyed with the idea of starting another blog--AGAIN? Then i figured that would be like my penchant for buying cookbooks--even though i don't cook!! Just because it's new & exciting doesn't mean i'm actually going to put it to use.
Tonite i just wanted to write, so i threw aside all creative block-obstacles. I reckon i'll stick with this old blog. It's been here for me all this time....
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