So I had the day off today, per my regular chemo-weekend schedule. Over the weekend, my teacher friends were on Facebook talking about the weather predicted for Monday morning and a lot of comments were flying about a snow day. I didn't pay attention to them. Okay, maybe I did a little.
Just last week I really hoped for a snow day on Tuesday. The temperature was predicted to be in the single digits, with a windchill below zero. I knew the magic number was -20 degrees. Be it temperature or windchill, -20 was on my brain. As with all nights before a possible snow day, I didn't sleep well. I woke up on Tuesday and turned on the news to hear about the weather. At first they were saying that the windchill was -17 degress in Ann Arbor. Not more than 10 minutes later, they said it was -19 degrees. -19! One more degree was all that was needed. Or a little more wind. Either way, I didn't get the snow/cold day. I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed and got ready for school.
So this week, when my friends were talking about a snow/ice day, I didn't think it would happen. Besides, I already had the day off so I didn't have that Sunday night feeling already. My sub plans were all written, and everything was set.
The phone rang this morning at 6:00 a.m. Stein was downstairs and answered it. I shouted, "Are you kidding me??!!" It was an ice/snow day. I have to admit, I felt a little gypped. I didn't get to have that feeling of anticipation. I didn't get to have that feeling of thinking I had to be somewhere and then suddenly I didn't. Don't worry, I'm not bitter or anything. I'm glad for all my teacher friends. Really, I am.
I just have one small request: can the next snow day please be scheduled for a non-chemo weekend? Please?
Monday, January 28, 2013
Saturday, January 26, 2013
2/3 Done.
Part of me says "awesome". Part of me says "ugh". I'm glad that I'm this far along in the process and definitely closer to the end part of the journey, but frankly, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of writing two days of sub plans every other week, tired of the "routine" of chemo days, tired of bracing myself each time while waiting for possible new side effects to appear.
I keep reminding myself that I'm very lucky. Other people who have gone through chemo with various types of cancers like or unlike mine have had a tough road with terrible side effects and not-so-positive results, if any. I'm going to be okay. I'm going to be done with this adventure in a matter of months. In the meantime, I just need to get through the next four treatments. I have to remember that I've already done double the amount of what I have left. This time will go by quickly (I hope).
There are some things planned in the next couple months that are helping to put everything in perspective and keep my mind distracted. We'll be heading to Milwaukee for our annual Marquette basketball weekend with dear friends. That will be followed by my mid-winter break which will be nice. Mickey will be here for two of my chemo appointments, which will be fun. And Stein and I are starting to plan a trip to see Chris in London this summer.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's getting closer. I will get there and be just fine.
I keep reminding myself that I'm very lucky. Other people who have gone through chemo with various types of cancers like or unlike mine have had a tough road with terrible side effects and not-so-positive results, if any. I'm going to be okay. I'm going to be done with this adventure in a matter of months. In the meantime, I just need to get through the next four treatments. I have to remember that I've already done double the amount of what I have left. This time will go by quickly (I hope).
There are some things planned in the next couple months that are helping to put everything in perspective and keep my mind distracted. We'll be heading to Milwaukee for our annual Marquette basketball weekend with dear friends. That will be followed by my mid-winter break which will be nice. Mickey will be here for two of my chemo appointments, which will be fun. And Stein and I are starting to plan a trip to see Chris in London this summer.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's getting closer. I will get there and be just fine.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Here, There, and Everywhere
Where have I been? All over the place, actually. Mentally and physically. It's been a crazy few weeks, having come off the holidays and back to school, trying to get back to the new-new normal.
There was a trip to Chicago to see family for a late Christmas celebration and bid Chris farewell before she went on her little work adventure. There was four days back to school and a visit with my mom before my seventh treatment. There was a week of school after that which was a bit frazzled. And just this weekend, there was a relaxing Friday night, a trip to Lansing to see Billy Elliot, a dinner and breakfast out, a long walk, and a couple fires. Not to mention the luxury of a long weekend without chemo. I'm savoring it.
I'm over the half-way hump and closer to 2/3 done. I've had seven treatments, so I have five more to go. People continue to ask how things are going, and I've said the same thing to everyone. I'm lucky. I know that the chemo could've affected me a lot worse than it has. The doctor seems to think because I haven't experienced many bad effects, that I most likely won't going forward. Which is great news for the girl who makes bargains with God when it comes to being nauseous.
The effect that I've had the most has been fatigue. Yet even the fatigue hasn't been as bad as I thought it would be. I thought that I was going to be debilitated by it. I thought I would have to pull a George Kostanza and sleep under my desk at school. It hasn't been that bad. I feel tired the weekend of chemo, but by the following Wednesday, I'm feeling okay.
On the hair front, most of it is gone. What's left seems to be coming off a lot in the shower. It's probably time to shave it, but I'm holding on to the last strands for warmth. You don't realize how much your hair keeps your head warm until it's gone! In the meantime, it helps that it's hat season. Our niece, Gadisse, made nine beautiful hats for me. All different patterns and colors. They're perfect for what I need. I even wear them at night. The wigs just haven't appealed to me, either. I may change my tune in the next couple weeks, but for now, hats seem to fit the bill.
I hope the New Year has been kind to you. So far, so good for me.
There was a trip to Chicago to see family for a late Christmas celebration and bid Chris farewell before she went on her little work adventure. There was four days back to school and a visit with my mom before my seventh treatment. There was a week of school after that which was a bit frazzled. And just this weekend, there was a relaxing Friday night, a trip to Lansing to see Billy Elliot, a dinner and breakfast out, a long walk, and a couple fires. Not to mention the luxury of a long weekend without chemo. I'm savoring it.
I'm over the half-way hump and closer to 2/3 done. I've had seven treatments, so I have five more to go. People continue to ask how things are going, and I've said the same thing to everyone. I'm lucky. I know that the chemo could've affected me a lot worse than it has. The doctor seems to think because I haven't experienced many bad effects, that I most likely won't going forward. Which is great news for the girl who makes bargains with God when it comes to being nauseous.
The effect that I've had the most has been fatigue. Yet even the fatigue hasn't been as bad as I thought it would be. I thought that I was going to be debilitated by it. I thought I would have to pull a George Kostanza and sleep under my desk at school. It hasn't been that bad. I feel tired the weekend of chemo, but by the following Wednesday, I'm feeling okay.
On the hair front, most of it is gone. What's left seems to be coming off a lot in the shower. It's probably time to shave it, but I'm holding on to the last strands for warmth. You don't realize how much your hair keeps your head warm until it's gone! In the meantime, it helps that it's hat season. Our niece, Gadisse, made nine beautiful hats for me. All different patterns and colors. They're perfect for what I need. I even wear them at night. The wigs just haven't appealed to me, either. I may change my tune in the next couple weeks, but for now, hats seem to fit the bill.
I hope the New Year has been kind to you. So far, so good for me.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Putting it All in Perspective - A Fresh Start
I just took a walk down memory lane and read some old posts from the other blog that I wrote for a handful of years. This is one of my favorite posts that I wrote, and it really hits home right now. While reading, you can substitute looking back at 2007 and looking forward to 2008 with looking back on 2012 and looking forward to 2013. The pictures I used for that post were taken on a walk around our neighborhood just after a huge snowstorm.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to (and From) a Funeral
Veering away from the cancer thing. As if there wasn't enough on our plates of challenges in 2012, my brother-in-law Phil passed away on December 28th. (Many of you had heard my mantra, "2012 can kiss my ass." It gained even more meaning when Phil passed away.)
We honored Phil yesterday at his memorial service. There were people who read poems, told funny stories, and reminisced about the great person he was. His brothers (fraternity and family), sister-in-law, and sister all told us about times they spent with him. A theme was woven through all of their eulogies. Phil was a person who lived in the moment, loved meeting and keeping friends, and loved for his people to have great experiences and great times.
Phil was young when he died. 52. Too young. He left behind a wife and two sons (14 and 16) and a ton of family and friends, many of whom packed themselves into the funeral home for the service. His health wasn't the best in the past few years, but the sad part is that in recent weeks he seemed like he was trying to turn his bad health around. He had a pace maker put in a couple months ago, got a machine to help with his sleep apnea, and had a knee replacement a little over a week before he died.
In the midst of his bad health, he was still concerned about those around him. Whenever I would see him after I was diagnosed with cancer, he always asked me how I was feeling. Even on the day his dad died and I gave him a hug, he said, "Now we have to worry about getting you better."
The day before his memorial, on New Year's Day, I went for a walk by myself in the woods. We still have a lot of snow around, so it was a beautiful walk through snow-covered trees with the sun shining through. I decided to wear my iPod on this walk because I wanted some distraction from my thoughts that have been pinballing around in my head for days. I set the songs on my iPod on "shuffle", but it seemed like the iPod intuitively knew what I needed to hear. The first song that came on was "Awake My Soul" by Mumford and Sons. The title alone made me think about Phil and my father-in-law Jerry. Then these lyrics really hit home:
In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die
And where you invest your love, you invest your life
Awake my soul
"Where you invest your love, you invest your life." A mantra that could have been one of Phil's. His life was about people and experiences, and he was always part of or creating a good time for others. The fact that music made me think about him is no coincidence, either. He always had music playing in the house or car, and loved to go hear live music.
As I continued my walk, more songs came on my iPod that reminded me of Phil or Jerry, or gave me some perspective about the year we left behind, or the year that lies ahead.
On the ride home from the memorial service last night, the radio in my car continued to play songs whose titles or lyrics reminded me of Phil. I know again it was coincidental, but some of the songs almost seemed eerie with their connections. Like the lyrics in "We Are Alive" by Bruce Springsteen:
We are alive
Oh, and though we lie alone here in the dark
Our souls will rise to carry the fire and light the spark
To fight shoulder to shoulder and heart to heart
The lyrics may seem a bit morbid, as they are about people "talking" from their graves. But I think that they are true in Phil's case. He will continue to be carried by us in our hearts and through the people he has touched. This song also reminded me of a Bruce Springsteen concert that we went to in Detroit. Stein was living with Phil and his wife at the time. It may have been the first time I met them when we stopped by their house on the way to the concert. Phil was so excited that we were going to see Bruce live, and I remember him saying goodbye to us with a hearty, "Have a GREAT time, guys."
So we go into 2013 with heavy hearts from our losses, but with hope for the new start and good things the new year has in store for us. Here's to you, Phil. May the music carry us through these hard times, remind us of the good times spent with you, and help us to keep in mind that it's the people and experiences that matter. Always.
We honored Phil yesterday at his memorial service. There were people who read poems, told funny stories, and reminisced about the great person he was. His brothers (fraternity and family), sister-in-law, and sister all told us about times they spent with him. A theme was woven through all of their eulogies. Phil was a person who lived in the moment, loved meeting and keeping friends, and loved for his people to have great experiences and great times.
Phil was young when he died. 52. Too young. He left behind a wife and two sons (14 and 16) and a ton of family and friends, many of whom packed themselves into the funeral home for the service. His health wasn't the best in the past few years, but the sad part is that in recent weeks he seemed like he was trying to turn his bad health around. He had a pace maker put in a couple months ago, got a machine to help with his sleep apnea, and had a knee replacement a little over a week before he died.
In the midst of his bad health, he was still concerned about those around him. Whenever I would see him after I was diagnosed with cancer, he always asked me how I was feeling. Even on the day his dad died and I gave him a hug, he said, "Now we have to worry about getting you better."
The day before his memorial, on New Year's Day, I went for a walk by myself in the woods. We still have a lot of snow around, so it was a beautiful walk through snow-covered trees with the sun shining through. I decided to wear my iPod on this walk because I wanted some distraction from my thoughts that have been pinballing around in my head for days. I set the songs on my iPod on "shuffle", but it seemed like the iPod intuitively knew what I needed to hear. The first song that came on was "Awake My Soul" by Mumford and Sons. The title alone made me think about Phil and my father-in-law Jerry. Then these lyrics really hit home:
In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die
And where you invest your love, you invest your life
Awake my soul
"Where you invest your love, you invest your life." A mantra that could have been one of Phil's. His life was about people and experiences, and he was always part of or creating a good time for others. The fact that music made me think about him is no coincidence, either. He always had music playing in the house or car, and loved to go hear live music.
As I continued my walk, more songs came on my iPod that reminded me of Phil or Jerry, or gave me some perspective about the year we left behind, or the year that lies ahead.
On the ride home from the memorial service last night, the radio in my car continued to play songs whose titles or lyrics reminded me of Phil. I know again it was coincidental, but some of the songs almost seemed eerie with their connections. Like the lyrics in "We Are Alive" by Bruce Springsteen:
We are alive
Oh, and though we lie alone here in the dark
Our souls will rise to carry the fire and light the spark
To fight shoulder to shoulder and heart to heart
The lyrics may seem a bit morbid, as they are about people "talking" from their graves. But I think that they are true in Phil's case. He will continue to be carried by us in our hearts and through the people he has touched. This song also reminded me of a Bruce Springsteen concert that we went to in Detroit. Stein was living with Phil and his wife at the time. It may have been the first time I met them when we stopped by their house on the way to the concert. Phil was so excited that we were going to see Bruce live, and I remember him saying goodbye to us with a hearty, "Have a GREAT time, guys."
So we go into 2013 with heavy hearts from our losses, but with hope for the new start and good things the new year has in store for us. Here's to you, Phil. May the music carry us through these hard times, remind us of the good times spent with you, and help us to keep in mind that it's the people and experiences that matter. Always.
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