Archive for February, 2009

Fighting Cancer

Friday, February 27th, 2009

I’m still fighting cancer. Sort of. It’s my hair, actually. It’s the hair cancer gave me that causes me to resist. It’s the curl, which really is more like a wave, that makes me plug in my flat iron each morning and straighten every bend and turn in my once poker-straight, once very blond hair.

Yesterday, I let my brownish, curly-ish hair go. I shampooed it, dried it and let every strand do as it pleased. I was OK with it at first. Then I went out to lunch, saw my reflection in the glass door of my favorite Heavenly Ham restaurant and realized I’m a straight-hair kind of girl. Flat looks better on me. Full and fluffy looks better on other people.

I couldn’t wait to get home. First, though, I had to get my boys from school. Joey’s first words when he spotted me waiting for him outside the front doors: “What happened to your hair?” Then I greeted Danny. “Why is your hair curly?” he said in the car after tracking me with his eyes for a while. “I just did it differently,” I told him. “Do you like it?” Joey piped in: “It’s not my favorite.”

It’s not my favorite either. Damn cancer. Why must it give me curly hair? Sure, it’s better than no hair. It’s just not ideal hair. Which is why I fight it. Today, the flat iron comes out again.

Photo courtesy of kaboodle.com

Posted in Chemotherapy, Side effects, Survivors | 3 Comments »

Sick of stress

Thursday, February 19th, 2009

Stress can make you sick. Cancer sick, I don’t know. But I suspect lingering stress can cause disease. Which is exactly why I don’t want it bottling up in my body. It has been, though, and I must find a way to release it. Because I want absolutely no part of sick.

Way back during my chemo days, I saw a counselor in the Psych Clinic in Shands Hospital. ‘Psych Clinic’ sounds so, um, mental, doesn’t it? Not sure I like that. But stress is mental. It weighs on the mind and travels through the body and if you’re like me, makes you a little bit crazy and a whole lot frazzled. It happens to me when my plate is too full. Like now. There are kid demands. And work demands. And guys who have been working in my house for nearly a week, installing granite countertops, jack hammering tile off my floors, replacing it with pretty hard wood and stirring it up all sorts of dust. There’s anxiety about how often and how much I exercise, pressure to volunteer at the school carnival, a pending trip to see snow and I think you get my point. Stress.

I’m trying to calm down, breathe deeply and employ the strategies my counselor Lindsay taught me all those years ago. One of my favorites, which I’ve been forgetting lately, is asking myself this question: What’s the worst thing that can happen? What’s the worst thing that can happen because dust covers my furniture? Well, it needs cleaning, that’s all. The worst thing that can happen if I don’t exercise today? I guess I burn a few less calories. I don’t volunteer for the carnival? The committee must find someone else. The point is, if it’s not a life or death scenario, well, then, it’s really not worth the stress. I need to remember that. And if I can’t, I can at least remember 8-year-old Joey’s words of wisdom: It could always be worse. Because, you know, it could be.

Photo by dinghyman on flickr

Posted in My story, Survivors | 2 Comments »

Dog Walking – and Other Life Ambitions

Wednesday, February 11th, 2009

The following article was previously published in Gainesville Parenting Magazine.

Danny wants to be a dog walker when he grows up. He’s had a bit of practice walking his Nana’s dogs and is pretty sure this career path suits him well. If it doesn’t pan out, he has another option.

“When I grow up, I want to be a football guy,” 5-year-old Danny told his daddy the other day. If he ever asks me for guidance, I’ll push him in the doggie direction. It may not be as glamorous a job as football, but it’s got to be easier on the body. Should Danny opt for football, though, and end up needing medical attention, his brother Joey can respond.

Joey wants to be a doctor. He sprang his decision on me one day while we were walking through the parking deck at North Florida Regional Medical Center. We happened to be on the level where doctors park their cars, and we were admiring all the fancy vehicles when it clicked for 7-year-old Joey: If doctors have nice cars and nice cars cost lots of money, then doctors must be rich. On the spot, he named his future profession. He will be a doctor—or a “blogger.”

“I don’t want a job,” Joey declared recently while strolling around the yard. “I want to be a blogger, like mommy.”

I guess blogging—and all the other writing I do—doesn’t seem like much of a job to a kid who just knows his mom is with him all the time. That’s precisely why it’s such an ideal endeavor for me. I get to stay home with my kiddos, write when they are in school, and then seem completely unemployed when they return home. Still, I have a job. Joey will realize this some day, when he figures out the ways of the world. For now, I’ll let him bask in the simplicity of life, until his lease on this gift runs out.

There’s something so innocent and basic about how children approach life, something that makes it easy to dream of walking dogs and fixing bodies one minute and playing football and blogging the next. Wouldn’t it be grand if adult minds could arrive, if only for a moment, at the very place where kids imaginations run wild—the place where everything seems to make perfect sense.

After Joey announced his plans to become a doctor and just before a school drop-off one morning, I noticed a slick, sporty little car driving next to our worn and tattered mini-van.

“Look at that nice car,” I commented to my boys. Looking in the direction of the woman driving this cool ride, Joey said with absolute certainty: “She’s a doctor.”

Yep, life is simple for little ones. And how fun it is to be the mom of two of the greatest dreamers around—and to have a job that allows me the time to marvel at the wonder of my glorious guys.

Posted in Chemotherapy, Family, Inspiration, Kids, My story, Resources, Side effects, Survivors | 2 Comments »

The first cancer day

Tuesday, February 10th, 2009

~Merete on flickrThere you are, plugging along with your day, happy as can be and fully expecting that nothing can disrupt your groove. All the while, something deadly is growing inside your breast and even though you do your self-exams, perhaps even get mammograms, you have no idea it’s there. But it is. And it continues to grow, sometimes for as long as eight to 10 years before it can be detected. And then the day arrives when it appears, maybe underneath your fingertips in the shower, maybe in a annual exam, maybe in the form of dimpling skin or nipples that suddenly invert, maybe after your infant refuses to breastfeed because it becomes apparent that something is wrong. But there it is. The tumor. The mass. The cancer. And it wrecks the day. Totally and completely wrecks the day. To be honest, cancer wrecks many days. But the first cancer day really sucks.

My friend’s sister-in-law just had her first cancer day. And so I wrote her an e-mail and said this:

Breast cancer is both a horrible and wonderful disease. It might be hard to believe the wonderful part at this moment and I can tell you for sure that in my early days with the disease, there was absolutely no bright side. Now, however, I have this head full of hair I like better than ever, I have a writing career that was born from cancer, I have a deeper love and appreciation for my family and friends, I worry and stress less (well, sometimes) and I have met some of the most glorious survivors who assure me I am not alone.

It’s my somewhat standard message to those new to the disease. And I mean every word of it. Cancer can be horrible, especially on that first day. But the days do get better. They can even return to happy. And then you get back to plugging along, happy as can be. Am I fully expecting nothing can disrupt my groove? No, not anymore. I am prepared for the ball to drop at any moment. I don’t think it will. But I’m ready.

Photo courtesy of ~Merete on flickr

Posted in Chemotherapy, Family, Inspiration, My story | 2 Comments »

The case for one day at a time

Sunday, February 8th, 2009

I keep thinking about this one-day-at-a-time thing. It’s a good concept. Not so easy for those of us in the Type A camp, those who like to control the world and everything in it. But definitely a solid approach for living peacefully and without much stress.

I’ve been trying to take it one day at a time ever since breast cancer threatened to take my days away. It became clear to me right after that dreaded “you have cancer” phone call in November 2004 that cancer was pretty much in charge and my only job was to push back. There was a lot of pushing, so one day was really all I could manage. It wasn’t very effective to fret about what ifs when each individual day was overwhelmed with its own set of issues.

One day at a time worked for me when cancer was all-consuming. Now: Not so much. I’ve got stuff to do, you see. And I simply must think of all the days that follow. I’ve got stories to write, schedules to manage, lunches to pack. I’ve got to keep up with little boy homework, tests and projects. I need to plot my workouts and plan dinners and fit requests of others into my weeks and months. I can’t take one day at a time. If I do, nothing will ever happen. What I can do, though, is not stress about what’s coming down the pike. And that’s what I’m trying to do. I still plan, schedule and manage. But I try to give serious thought only to the events of a 24 hour time frame. If I have a worrisome doctor appointment tomorrow, for example, I’ll note it on my calendar but reserve all serious thought (read: stress) until its own allotted day.

I cannot entirely take one day at at time. But I can compartmentalize my brain in such a way that only one day consumes me at time. Well, I can try to compartmentailze, anyway. That’s my plan, anyway. Gosh, I love plans.

Photo courtesy of Amy Loves Yah on flickr

Posted in My story | 1 Comment »

My second born

Wednesday, February 4th, 2009

And because first borns get all the attention, I simply must honor my second born.

1. WAS YOUR SECOND PREGNANCY PLANNED? Yes.

2. WERE YOU MARRIED AT THE TIME? Yes.

3. WHAT WERE YOUR REACTIONS? Mostly joy. But I felt a bit sorry for Joey for the transition he would have to make. Then a friend told me the best gift I could give Joey is a sibling, and I felt better.

4. WAS ABORTION AN OPTION FOR YOU? No.

5. HOW OLD WERE YOU? 33, almost 34.

6. HOW DID YOU FIND OUT YOU WERE PREGNANT? Home pregnancy test.

7. WHO DID YOU TELL FIRST? Husband John.

8. DID YOU WANT TO FIND OUT THE SEX? No. The first baby was surprise, and I loved the suspense.

9. DUE DATE? 5.26.03

10. DID YOU HAVE MORNING SICKNESS? Not really.

11. WHAT DID YOU CRAVE? I can’t remember.

12. WHO/WHAT IRRITATED YOU THE MOST? My weight, for the second time.

13. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CHILD’S SEX? Male.

14. DID YOU WISH YOU HAD THE OPPOSITE SEX OF WHAT YOU WERE GETTING? Nope.

15. HOW MANY POUNDS DID YOU GAIN? 42

16. DID YOU HAVE A BABY SHOWER? No.

17. WAS IT A SURPRISE OR DID YOU KNOW? N/A

18.DID YOU HAVE ANY COMPLICATIONS DURING YOUR PREGNANCY? No. Just a repeat of the first delivery — a big baby who had a hard time emerging.

19. WHERE DID YOU GIVE BIRTH? North Florida Regional Medical Center in Gainesville, FL

20. HOW MANY HOURS WERE YOU IN LABOR? About 15.

21. WHO DROVE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL? Husband John. Mom showed up later. Mother-in-law stayed with big brother Joey.

23. WAS IT NATURAL OR C-SECTION? Natural, with epidural.

24. DID YOU TAKE MEDICINE TO EASE THE PAIN? Yes.

25. HOW MUCH DID YOUR CHILD WEIGH? 10 pounds, 2 ounces

26. WHEN WAS YOUR CHILD ACTUALLY BORN? 5.30.03

27. WHAT DID YOU NAME YOUR CHILD? Daniel John Donaldson. We call him Danny.

28. HOW OLD IS YOUR FIRST BORN TODAY? 5

Posted in Kids, My story, Survivors | 1 Comment »

My first born

Tuesday, February 3rd, 2009

This is for all you mommies out there, about your firstborn. Just copy, paste and share your story.

1. WAS YOUR FIRST PREGNANCY PLANNED? Yes.

2. WERE YOU MARRIED AT THE TIME? Yes.

3. WHAT WERE YOUR REACTIONS? Relief, happiness and anxiety. Had a miscarriage previously and wanted so badly to get pregnant again. Also feared miscarrying again. But I didn’t.

4. WAS ABORTION AN OPTION FOR YOU? No.

5. HOW OLD WERE YOU? 30.

6. HOW DID YOU FIND OUT YOU WERE PREGNANT? Home pregnancy test.

7. WHO DID YOU TELL FIRST? Husband John.

8. DID YOU WANT TO FIND OUT THE SEX? I did, but John didn’t so I gave him the gift of surprise.

9. DUE DATE? 12.30.00

10. DID YOU HAVE MORNING SICKNESS? No.

11. WHAT DID YOU CRAVE? Caesar salad and a cold beer in a frosty mug, because I didn’t allow myself either while pregnant.

12. WHO/WHAT IRRITATED YOU THE MOST? My weight.

13. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CHILD’S SEX? Male.

14. DID YOU WISH YOU HAD THE OPPOSITE SEX? Nope.

15. HOW MANY POUNDS DID YOU GAIN? 50

16. DID YOU HAVE A BABY SHOWER? Yes.

17. WAS IT A SURPRISE OR DID YOU KNOW? I knew.

18.DID YOU HAVE ANY COMPLICATIONS DURING YOUR PREGNANCY? Not until the delivery day, when the big boy was struggling to come out and the doctor realized after 2.5 hours of pushing that he was HUGE. It all worked out — thanks to a big episiotomy and a vacuum.

19. WHERE DID YOU GIVE BIRTH? Halifax Hospital in Daytona Beach, FL

20. HOW MANY HOURS WERE YOU IN LABOR? Oh, about 16.

21. WHO DROVE YOU TO THE HOSPITAL? Husband John. Met there by my mom, sister and Mother-in-law.

23. WAS IT NATURAL OR C-SECTION? Natural, with epidural.

24. DID YOU TAKE MEDICINE TO EASE THE PAIN? Yes.

25. HOW MUCH DID YOUR CHILD WEIGH? 10 pounds, 9 ounces

26. WHEN WAS YOUR CHILD ACTUALLY BORN? 1.3.01

27. WHAT DID YOU NAME YOUR CHILD? Joseph Christopher Donaldson. We call him Joey.

28. HOW OLD IS YOUR FIRST BORN TODAY? 8

Posted in Kids, Survivors | 2 Comments »