Ok, I think this journal has gone on long enough with talk about depressing stuff like cancer. And more cancer. And cancer again. It’s time to take an insightful moment and truly reflect on situations that require a deeper plane of thought. Life-altering things. On states of current affairs that require us to search our inner core for our value and significance as human beings; our emotions, our morals, our true principles. Am I talking about world peace? Or world hunger? Or world anything?
No, I’m talking about the recent claim made by the media that Disney’s High School Musical is to this generation what Grease was to mine.
I know! The audacity!! Can you even believe it? The exaggeration is so absurd it almost doesn’t warrant consideration. But since I’ve complained alluded in the past to how much my kids are obsessed by enjoyed High School Musical, I thought it deserved a comment or two.
I came home from {what seems to be my daily run to} Target last week and made the comment to Blaine, “You know what’s funny? I was in the music department, buying my {completely inappropriate for children and totally deserving of the explicit language parental warning advisory} cd by Pink, {which I love, by the way,} and noticed that the soundtrack to High School Musical was in the Top 20 section. Not Top 20 Kids, or Top 20 Musicals, but Top 20. Regular music. Like on the charts with Bubba Sparxxx and Ne-Yo and Busta Groove and other performers I’ve never heard of.”
And since we not only own the soundtrack, but I enjoy it so much myself that I’ve listened to it even without kids in the car (gasp!) I thought it was kind of sweet that Disney was keeping up with Mary J. Bilge and MC Smash Your Angry Face and whoever else currently comprises the Top 20 Billboard.
To which Blaine responded: “I know. I saw on the Today show, or Good Morning America, or whatever, something like that, how it’s this surprise blockbuster hit, and taking over as this generation’s Grease.”
What? Taking over as this generation’s Grease? No, no, no. That is just WRONG.
Now, I’m willing to admit the storyline for High School Musical is ok, and there are some humorous moments, and the music is actually pretty good. But there is no way a silly little fluff Disney musical (with absolutely no sex or violence, I might point out) can come even close to touching an institution like Grease. Grease is an ICON of pop culture for anyone between the ages of 35 and 45. Admit it, who amongst you out there didn’t want to BE Sandy? (Or even Rizzo, in your more rebellious moments?) Who didn’t want to race for pinks? Or attend Rydell High? Or kick Cha Cha’s ass after that dance competition?
I remember seeing Grease in the theater for the first time when I was 12. It was Brenda Strahan’s 13th birthday, and her dad (brave soul that he was) took ten or eleven of us pre-teen girls to the movie theater to watch Grease. I fell in LOVE with the movie, and made my mom and dad take me again the next night. Being products of the 1950’s themselves, they also enjoyed the movie, although I think my mom was a little worried I would see the characters and situations in Grease as a true representation of life in the ‘50’s. Which of course, I totally did. And became convinced I had been born in the wrong generation.
My obsession continued, after I bought the record (yes, kids, before cds, before cassettes, before 8-tracks, we listened to round black things called RECORDS. On something called a RECORD PLAYER.) I clearly remember hanging out at my friend Jani Bales’ house, listening to Greased Lightning and Beauty School Dropout and making up really cheesy dance routines in her living room, which we subjected her poor mom to watch us perform, over and over. In fact, the only time in my life I’ve been drunk brave enough to perform karaoke without a group of girlfriends surrounding me, was to Summer Lovin’. So that should tell you how deep my affection for Grease actually runs. Or my affection for Amaretto ..... I'm a little confused by the whole hazy memory.
But my point is, for “them” to claim Grease is being replaced by High School Musical for the pre-teens of today ….. well, that’s one claim I’m going to have to refute. There’s just no way to compare the two!
Sure, Disney and Grease both tackled class consciousness and social order, but Grease had leather pants! Condom talk! Tacky dream sequences! Frankie Avalon! A drive-in scene! Who doesn’t love the drive in scene???
I’m telling you, take my word for it, no movie will ever surpass Grease as the coming-of-age teen-angst (which is ironic, considering how old those actors were when they made that movie …. What was Kenickie, like, 40?) rite of passage. And in case you don’t believe me, or don’t have the rose-colored view of Grease that I do, here are a few quotes, some of which have gone down in history, that you KNOW Disney doesn’t have the cahones to use:
1. “A hickey from Kenickie is like a Hallmark Card: When you care enough to send the very best.”
2. “I feel like a defective typewriter.”
“Huh?”
“I skipped a period.” (yeah, like THAT one’s going to be in a Disney show?!?!)
3. “Oh, bite the weenie, Riz”
“With relish”
4. “And remember, if you can’t be an athlete, be an athletic supporter.”
5. “We have pictures of you so-called mooners. And just because the pictures aren’t of your faces, don’t think we can’t identify you.”
6. “Do you think these glasses make me look smarter?”
“No, you can still see your face.”
And the classic:
7. “Tell me about it (pause for dramatic effect and to stub out a cigarette with the toe of her insanely high heeled shoe) S-T-U-D.” (My gosh, I would have killed to be Sandy at that point in the movie! Until they drove off in the magical-flying car, which was the one part of the movie that I admit was totally stupid. Well, if we're being honest, the second part. The dream sequence with Frankie was pretty dumb, too. That's when I would get up and go to the bathroom on subsequent movie showings.)
The most risqué line I could find in High School Musical is “Shake your booty”. See? No comparison. Grease is the clear-cut winner, when it comes to shaping minds and morals of the youth in this country. Don’t you agree? Leave me a note in the guestbook with your favorite quote from Grease (you know you have one!) or if, for some inane reason, you liked High School Musical better. Although I can tell you in advance that you are totally wrong and nothing you can say will change my mind.
In the meantime, I am packing our bags for an event, taking place this weekend, of such magnitude, I can’t even breathe a word of it, for fear I will jinx it happening. I can’t let out a peep and blow the surprise -- I can’t even tell you until after the fact. (Yet notice I am still talking?!?!?) *******************************************
PS. I guess I should point out that I appear to have done a really lousy job conveying information --- I'm not having this baby until the 19th of MAY. While I appreciate the notes of encouragement and support that I got yesterday, the 19th of April, it's still a little early for me to be serving up any kind of eviction notice for the little guy or girl. So, four more weeks. :)
*****************************************
REAL, LIVE, CONVERSATIONS I HAVE ACTUALLY HAD THIS WEEK:
Kristie, driving through a McDonalds drive-through: “OK, Kendrie, what do you want?”
Kendrie: “A cheeseburger, with ketchup only and pickles”
Kristie, “You don’t like pickles”
Kendrie, “No, I don’t like pickles. But I like pickle crumbs. So order pickles and I will take them off and have just the pickle crumbs.”
Kristie, “ I have no idea what pickle crumbs are, but OK, so you want just ketchup and pickles?”
Kendrie, “Yes. But no mustard. Or Onions. Or Caviar.”
Kristie, "OK, pretty sure they don't serve caviar at McDonalds."
CONVERSATION NUMBER TWO:
I returned home one afternoon this week to find Blaine laying on the sofa, atop a heating pad.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Blaine, “I pulled a muscle in my back”
Kristie, “What exhausting, strenuous activity were you doing that made you pull a muscle in your back, you big hunk of man-candy, you?”
Blaine, “Brushing my teeth.”
I swear, I’m not making this up. How could I make this stuff up? He pulled a muscle in his back, brushing the few teeth he has left. I don’t even know what to say, so I’ll just end this now. Where the hell is the Ben-gay?
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Saturday, April 15, 2006
FIELD DAY, 2006
Spanning the globe to bring you the constant variety of sport! The thrill of victory...and the agony of defeat! The human drama of athletic competition! This is Byron, Georgia’s: Wide World of Sports!
The always-tricky balancing a ball on a spoon race. I think it's supposed to be eggs on a spoon, but thank goodness it wasn't. As many times as those kids dropped the balls, that field would have reeked like Sulpher City by the end of the day.
I guess this is good practice for when they start stealing street cones in their teen age years????
Kendrie told me the night before she hated this event, the "Kangaroo Hop". Now I understand why. With all those short little kindergarten legs, it took almost fifteen minutes for all those kids to hop down the lanes!
The hurdle relay. One of the trickier events for kids who (unfortunately) get their Athletic Gene from their uncoordinated mom.
Ah, yes. A true test of athletic prowess --- the Beanbag on the Head relay.
And of course, the scene that took place repeatedly throughout the day, Kendrie doing whatever event was taking place, always, with her tongue hanging out of her mouth.
BLAINE UPDATE:
OK, believe it or not….. (wait, I have to throw some salt over my left shoulder with my right hand) …. Believe it or not, I think I have some good ……. (hang on, I need to find my lucky four-leaf clover before I say anything out loud and jinx myself) ….. some good news ….. (hold it, where is my unicorn horn? My leprechaun broach? My Aladdin’s lamp?) I really want to tell you what has happened, but I’m afraid if I don’t rub my rabbit’s foot, nail a horseshoe over my door, step over the cracks in the sidewalk, find a heads-up penny, break the long half of the wishbone, drop an eyelash onto my cheek, sight a shooting star, blow out an entire dandelion, coerce a ladybug to land on me, cross my fingers, and knock on my wooden computer desk in juuuuuuuuuuuuuust the right way, then it will all blow up in my face.
Yesterday was NOT Friday the 13th. It was Friday the 14th. And apparently the planets aligned, the prayers and good wishes of all of you were heard, and the Gods of Diving Timing smiled down upon us, because believe it or not, I think Blaine’s unexpected tooth extraction will wind up being a blessing in disguise! (OK, so maybe *he’s* not feeling that way, eating mashed potatoes for the last six meals in a row, but I sure am!)
We got a call from the radiation department at the University of Washington last night, and taking a “better safe than sorry” approach, they want to delay Blaine’s radiation by an entire two weeks. So instead of starting this Tuesday, he won’t go until the beginning of May. Which means, if you drag out your pocket calendar and count out the days, like I immediately did, his final two weeks of radiation, when they predict he will start to need help, are the two weeks AFTER the baby is due to be born! So I can pop out this kid, then hop a flight to Washington and help him myself, instead of sending my (completely willing but slightly overwhelmed) mother to do it. Instead, she will come here to be with me for the delivery, then stay with the kids while I go to Washington. I mean really, had I scheduled it myself, the timing couldn’t have worked out more perfectly.
Blaine is not happy about the delay, just because he had his mind wrapped around the treatments and was in his “mental happy place” and prepared. Now, he’s got to wait; unpack his suitcase (and his worries and concerns) only to re-pack in a few weeks. Plus, like he keeps telling me, “I’m walking around with cancer in my head. Excuuuuuuse ME if I want to get it out of there as soon as possible!” Yeah, ok, whatever. It’s all about ME, and this works out perfectly!!!!
Things we specifically need to go right (so those of you in the kneeling position, please keep right on slinging the happy thoughts upstairs):
1. That my body cooperate so the baby can show up on the 19th. Due to a previous c-section, I can’t be induced if I’m not physically “ready”.
2. That the delivery be uncomplicated. I need to be out of the hospital in time to catch a flight three days later.
3. That the baby be born healthy, beautiful, and happy. Wait, this should be moved up to the number one spot. It’s the most important.
4. That I immediately drop fifty pounds after the delivery. (Ok, so technically this is more of a vanity request than a legitimate prayer request …. But if I’m asking, I might as well ask for everything I want, right?!)
I realize the timing of everything leaves us with a very small window for error, and the way things seem to go for us, plans will change two or three times between now and then. But for TODAY, I feel huge relief. Seriously. Like someone has taken Stonehenge off my shoulders.
I wanted my mom here for the delivery; looks like I’m getting it. *I* wanted to be the one in Seattle helping Blaine, looks like I’m getting it. I’m like the spoiled rotten Paris Hilton of the cancer world, getting everything she wanted! The only thing I’ll miss is the kids' last week of school, but since Grandma will be here to cater to their every whim help out, they won’t miss me one bit.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, for all your good thoughts and concern. It worked!
Well, I better go fix some more mashed potatoes for Mr. Crabby McHole in the Mouth. I guess I should feel sorrier for him. I mean, I like mashed potatoes, also, but I suppose after two solid days it **would** get a little old. He started our grocery list this week with the following items: oatmeal, ice cream, yogurt. That’s just sad, isn’t it?
The always-tricky balancing a ball on a spoon race. I think it's supposed to be eggs on a spoon, but thank goodness it wasn't. As many times as those kids dropped the balls, that field would have reeked like Sulpher City by the end of the day.
I guess this is good practice for when they start stealing street cones in their teen age years????
Kendrie told me the night before she hated this event, the "Kangaroo Hop". Now I understand why. With all those short little kindergarten legs, it took almost fifteen minutes for all those kids to hop down the lanes!
The hurdle relay. One of the trickier events for kids who (unfortunately) get their Athletic Gene from their uncoordinated mom.
Ah, yes. A true test of athletic prowess --- the Beanbag on the Head relay.
And of course, the scene that took place repeatedly throughout the day, Kendrie doing whatever event was taking place, always, with her tongue hanging out of her mouth.
BLAINE UPDATE:
OK, believe it or not….. (wait, I have to throw some salt over my left shoulder with my right hand) …. Believe it or not, I think I have some good ……. (hang on, I need to find my lucky four-leaf clover before I say anything out loud and jinx myself) ….. some good news ….. (hold it, where is my unicorn horn? My leprechaun broach? My Aladdin’s lamp?) I really want to tell you what has happened, but I’m afraid if I don’t rub my rabbit’s foot, nail a horseshoe over my door, step over the cracks in the sidewalk, find a heads-up penny, break the long half of the wishbone, drop an eyelash onto my cheek, sight a shooting star, blow out an entire dandelion, coerce a ladybug to land on me, cross my fingers, and knock on my wooden computer desk in juuuuuuuuuuuuuust the right way, then it will all blow up in my face.
Yesterday was NOT Friday the 13th. It was Friday the 14th. And apparently the planets aligned, the prayers and good wishes of all of you were heard, and the Gods of Diving Timing smiled down upon us, because believe it or not, I think Blaine’s unexpected tooth extraction will wind up being a blessing in disguise! (OK, so maybe *he’s* not feeling that way, eating mashed potatoes for the last six meals in a row, but I sure am!)
We got a call from the radiation department at the University of Washington last night, and taking a “better safe than sorry” approach, they want to delay Blaine’s radiation by an entire two weeks. So instead of starting this Tuesday, he won’t go until the beginning of May. Which means, if you drag out your pocket calendar and count out the days, like I immediately did, his final two weeks of radiation, when they predict he will start to need help, are the two weeks AFTER the baby is due to be born! So I can pop out this kid, then hop a flight to Washington and help him myself, instead of sending my (completely willing but slightly overwhelmed) mother to do it. Instead, she will come here to be with me for the delivery, then stay with the kids while I go to Washington. I mean really, had I scheduled it myself, the timing couldn’t have worked out more perfectly.
Blaine is not happy about the delay, just because he had his mind wrapped around the treatments and was in his “mental happy place” and prepared. Now, he’s got to wait; unpack his suitcase (and his worries and concerns) only to re-pack in a few weeks. Plus, like he keeps telling me, “I’m walking around with cancer in my head. Excuuuuuuse ME if I want to get it out of there as soon as possible!” Yeah, ok, whatever. It’s all about ME, and this works out perfectly!!!!
Things we specifically need to go right (so those of you in the kneeling position, please keep right on slinging the happy thoughts upstairs):
1. That my body cooperate so the baby can show up on the 19th. Due to a previous c-section, I can’t be induced if I’m not physically “ready”.
2. That the delivery be uncomplicated. I need to be out of the hospital in time to catch a flight three days later.
3. That the baby be born healthy, beautiful, and happy. Wait, this should be moved up to the number one spot. It’s the most important.
4. That I immediately drop fifty pounds after the delivery. (Ok, so technically this is more of a vanity request than a legitimate prayer request …. But if I’m asking, I might as well ask for everything I want, right?!)
I realize the timing of everything leaves us with a very small window for error, and the way things seem to go for us, plans will change two or three times between now and then. But for TODAY, I feel huge relief. Seriously. Like someone has taken Stonehenge off my shoulders.
I wanted my mom here for the delivery; looks like I’m getting it. *I* wanted to be the one in Seattle helping Blaine, looks like I’m getting it. I’m like the spoiled rotten Paris Hilton of the cancer world, getting everything she wanted! The only thing I’ll miss is the kids' last week of school, but since Grandma will be here to cater to their every whim help out, they won’t miss me one bit.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, for all your good thoughts and concern. It worked!
Well, I better go fix some more mashed potatoes for Mr. Crabby McHole in the Mouth. I guess I should feel sorrier for him. I mean, I like mashed potatoes, also, but I suppose after two solid days it **would** get a little old. He started our grocery list this week with the following items: oatmeal, ice cream, yogurt. That’s just sad, isn’t it?
Thursday, April 13, 2006
I SWEAR MY HEAD IS GOING TO EXPLODE.
OF COURSE, BLAINE’S PRETTY MUCH HAS ALREADY.
AND THAT’S THE BASIS OF OUR PROBLEM.
BUT EVERYTHING IS FINE.
Kendrie -- Day 119 OT and covered from ankle to knee in bruises, front and back, but I can’t even worry about it because I’m too busy feeling like my head is going to explode.
Blaine -- who freakin’ knows? Does anybody know? Really? ‘Cause I would love for you to tell me if you know.
Once again, I find myself having to apologize for the delay in updating this site. I confess that I’m struggling lately with whether or not to keep it going, and if so, in what fashion. I thought after Kendrie finished her treatment, I would continue to journal in more of a blogger form; detailing our experiences with the Disney channel, sports travails, humorous anecdotes, travel plans, homework sagas, and life off-treatment. With any luck, providing hope and optimism for those families still in the thick of their cancer journey, and maybe even giving the rest of you a laugh or two at our expense in the meantime. I figured I would utilize Caringbridge for six months or so, then make my way over to Typepad or Blogger and carry on there, in true mommyblogger fashion.
Now, given Blaine’s situation, I’m not quite sure where to go or what to do with this site. We still have chaos and insanity and fun stuff in our normal lives, but to blab about that without mentioning him seems rude. And fake. Because really, we’re completely distracted by what is happening with him. But to blather on about his trials is depressing. And I struggle with finding a balance. Plastic and entertaining? Gloomy and truthful? In the meantime, apathy strikes and I write nothing.
Here’s where we are now, with regard to Blaine. Let’s get the exploding head stuff out of the way first. Although, I must warn you. Only *MY* head is exploding. Yours will only explode out of dullness if you read the following, because even I am tired of listening to myself whine and complain. So if you have something better to do …. ANYTHING … like re-grouting the bathroom tile or cleaning out the bottom mildew-y vegetable bin in the refrigerator, I would go do it now. Otherwise, read on at the risk of boring your brain cells. To a mind-numbing, painful death. And really, if that's the end result, shouldn't there be alcohol involved????
He returned from his consultation in Seattle last week, sobered by the reality of what five weeks of radiation will entail, but almost excited, in a sick and twisted way, to just get things started so it would be over. The good news is the success rate he was quoted in using neutron beam radiation against this type of cancer: 80 percent. “Success” is defined as total remission. That’s a pretty respectable quote. Same statistic Kendrie was given in her ALL treatment. (Conveniently, he didn’t ask about the other 20 percent.) Not as good news are the side effects he can expect from the treatment: extreme fatigue, a permanent 10 percent hearing loss, greater risk of secondary cancers later (where have we heard that one before?) a permanent loss of the ability to produce saliva, therefore, chronic dry mouth both during the treatments and for life, severe mouth sores, possibly necessitating a feeding tube, possibly a permanent ban on solid foods, and life-long dental problems on the teeth he has left (yeah, because he hasn’t had THAT already for the past three years?) So, in a perfect world, he’ll be a tired, deaf, dry-mouthed, toothless cranky man existing on chicken soup and food in a blender. But hey, he won’t have cancer anymore. It’ll be like being married to my dad. (Those of you who know Calvin can laugh, right?)
But that’s ok, right? Because a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. So it’s fine. Timing has become tricky, since radiation was scheduled to begin next week, last five weeks, and he will need a support person there, at a minimum, for the last two weeks. Obviously, at 38 weeks pregnant, it won’t be me. So my mom was elected, which is fine, except she has always been our “helper” person during my deliveries, watching the kids while I am in labor …. So if she’s in Seattle with Blaine, I’ll be here by myself. Which is fine … I can give birth by myself, and pass the kids off to babysitters for a few days while I’m in the hospital, although that’s not an ideal situation. So, although it took an extreme amount of childcare coordination on her part, my sister offered to come here for the delivery, just so I wouldn’t have to go it alone --- problem solved, right?
Wrong.
First, Blaine has had an inordinate amount of problems getting the legwork for his Seattle trip taken care of this week. The military is great about our coverage, and what they provide for us, but Blaine has to do every bit of the groundwork and gophering himself. Travel forms, finance, hotel arrangements, hospital arrangements, medical records, etc. First, he went to the travel office to get orders so he could actually make the trip, and realized they put the wrong dates down for air travel. But they can fix that, so it’s fine. Then we found out the Air Force will pay for my mom to travel to Seattle, and to help Blaine back to Atlanta at the end of treatment, as his "official chaperone" but getting her back home is our problem. There was no working that one out. So we’ll either drive her home, or fly her home, which is no problem and fine. Just something we’ll worry about later. Because of course we don’t know exactly *when* they’ll be coming home, so we’re not able to make plans for that now. Then, he needed a few prescriptions refilled, but there was an exercise going on this week in the medical clinic on base, so his doctor didn’t return his calls for four solid days. This is the same doctor who has literally made house calls for us, so I know he wasn’t avoiding Blaine, he just wasn’t available. But in the meantime Blaine was getting panicky that he was leaving on Monday with no pain meds and no-one seemed able to help.
Then, on to today’s drama.
In an effort to protect his remaining teeth during this radiation, Blaine had to get fitted today for what is called a hidden bite block (I envision some sort of mouth guard like football players wear, but really, I have no idea what it is. For all I know, it’s like the dental equipment my sister wore all through junior high ….. wouldn’t that be unfortunate? A Jason radiation mask AND head gear???) His initial appointment with the dentist was this morning, then he planned on joining the kids and I for the annual Field Day Extravaganza at their school. He called me mid-morning to tell me the dentist found a cavity and they absolutely had to fill it before he could have radiation, so he’d be running late. Fine. Then, they got in there and discovered the cavity was so large there was no way to salvage the tooth, so it would have to be extracted. Today. Ok, well, he’ll miss Field Day, but that’s fine. But (there’s always a but, isn’t there?) radiation can’t take place if there is an “open” wound in the mouth …. So unless Blaine wants to risk some kind of radiation-poisoning-infection-scenario, and spend time in a hyper baric chamber, (I swear to you, they actually mentioned a hyper baric oxygen chamber!) radiation will have to be postponed by a week to ten days. Ix-nay and ancel-Cay on all the planning and reserving and coordinating Blaine had done this week in order to leave on Monday. All down the crapper.
Which would be fine …. But my mom and my sister have already gone to great lengths to clear their schedules and make travel arrangements for the days we told them we would need them. I arranged my delivery, and let the baby’s parents know exactly when to come, based on the supposed radiation schedule. And now, we have no idea when Blaine will be rescheduled. Naturally, the radiation-oncologist wasn’t available today to talk this situation over with us. Naturally. Why would he be? Why should one freaking thing go smoothly, or as planned. Why should we have any stinkin’ clue when he’ll be getting his treatments? Ten days later? Two weeks later? How does that affect my sister’s travel? My mom’s travel? This delivery? Seriously, I would throw my hands up in the air at this point, but the carpal tunnel is so bad I’m afraid I would never get the feeling back in my fingers.
You know the teacher in the Charlie Brown cartoons, whose face you never see, and whose voice is just a monotonous “Wah Wah Wah--Wah- Wah”? That’s how I feel, listening to myself. Every plan we have has a flaw. Every contingency plan has a flaw. If we do plan A, then **this** is our dilemma. If we move to plan B, then detail #3245 bites us in the ass. Plan C doesn’t work because *that* would be too logical.
OK, so, a couple of things I have to apologize for:
1. That this is so boring. Don’t deny it. I see some of your eyeballs rolled back in your head. I’ll get back on the site this weekend and post some photos from the kids’ Field Day …. Much cuter and more entertaining than the details of Blaine’s ongoing medical saga.
2. If it sounds for one micro-second like I am complaining about Blaine’s treatment. We are blessed and hopeful for full recovery. Thank goodness for this type of treatment, the people who can do it, and the opportunity it gives him for remission, even if it’s in Seattle. I just wish things were a little less complicated.
3. If it sounds for one micro-second like I am complaining about this surrogacy. I am blessed. This pregnancy has been uneventful and special. All that matters is that the parents get to welcome a beautiful, healthy child into the world. I’m lucky to be a part of it. I just wish things were a little less complicated.
4. My comment about the hardship of single parenting in my last post. First of all, I was only “single” for four days ….. I think even Mommy Dearest could’ve handled four measly days. And I sincerely want to apologize to how insensitive it must have sounded to my friends D.G. and K.E. (You know who you are, and why I need to apologize.) I am blessed. I love my kids beyond measure, even when I want to staple their little mouths shut. We will manage our five weeks alone just fine.
5. If it sounds for one second like I am complaining about the military. I am very proud and grateful for what the military has done for us. It’s just difficult to make arrangements, for major life events like this, when our family is so far away. As a "dependent spouse", I love being a peripheral part of the Air Force ---- but, have found myself gazing longingly at my “There’s no place like home” Dorothy-slippers more in the past three years then I did the previous fifteen military years combined.
6. If it sounds like I’m complaining because my crystal ball isn’t working. We’ve been dealing with this shit for three years. I just want to know the end is in sight. Right now, the end is so far away we couldn’t find it with both hands, a blow torch and a periscope. I know there are no guarantees in life ………….. but I would sure appreciate a “Get out of jail free” card right about now.
Well, there’s a 2000 word limit on Kvetching Posts, and I’ve exceeded it tonight. So I’ll sign off for now. I’m going to go bury my disgruntlement in a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie, sleep off the sugar low, and hopefully awaken tomorrow feeling refreshed and cheerful. Of course, my kids are out of school for Easter Break, so my cheerfulness most likely won’t last past 9am, the estimated TTBFWOA (Time To Begin Fighting With One Another.)
But a girl can dream, right?
PS. One happy parenting moment today, proving I am a child of the 80’s: I taught my kids the words:
"Alfalfa, will you swing me before we have lunch?
Sure, Darla.
Say Romeo, what about your promise to the he-man woman hater’s club?
I’m sorry Spanky, I have to live my own life."
To my delight, they love the song as much as I do.
AND THAT’S THE BASIS OF OUR PROBLEM.
BUT EVERYTHING IS FINE.
Kendrie -- Day 119 OT and covered from ankle to knee in bruises, front and back, but I can’t even worry about it because I’m too busy feeling like my head is going to explode.
Blaine -- who freakin’ knows? Does anybody know? Really? ‘Cause I would love for you to tell me if you know.
Once again, I find myself having to apologize for the delay in updating this site. I confess that I’m struggling lately with whether or not to keep it going, and if so, in what fashion. I thought after Kendrie finished her treatment, I would continue to journal in more of a blogger form; detailing our experiences with the Disney channel, sports travails, humorous anecdotes, travel plans, homework sagas, and life off-treatment. With any luck, providing hope and optimism for those families still in the thick of their cancer journey, and maybe even giving the rest of you a laugh or two at our expense in the meantime. I figured I would utilize Caringbridge for six months or so, then make my way over to Typepad or Blogger and carry on there, in true mommyblogger fashion.
Now, given Blaine’s situation, I’m not quite sure where to go or what to do with this site. We still have chaos and insanity and fun stuff in our normal lives, but to blab about that without mentioning him seems rude. And fake. Because really, we’re completely distracted by what is happening with him. But to blather on about his trials is depressing. And I struggle with finding a balance. Plastic and entertaining? Gloomy and truthful? In the meantime, apathy strikes and I write nothing.
Here’s where we are now, with regard to Blaine. Let’s get the exploding head stuff out of the way first. Although, I must warn you. Only *MY* head is exploding. Yours will only explode out of dullness if you read the following, because even I am tired of listening to myself whine and complain. So if you have something better to do …. ANYTHING … like re-grouting the bathroom tile or cleaning out the bottom mildew-y vegetable bin in the refrigerator, I would go do it now. Otherwise, read on at the risk of boring your brain cells. To a mind-numbing, painful death. And really, if that's the end result, shouldn't there be alcohol involved????
He returned from his consultation in Seattle last week, sobered by the reality of what five weeks of radiation will entail, but almost excited, in a sick and twisted way, to just get things started so it would be over. The good news is the success rate he was quoted in using neutron beam radiation against this type of cancer: 80 percent. “Success” is defined as total remission. That’s a pretty respectable quote. Same statistic Kendrie was given in her ALL treatment. (Conveniently, he didn’t ask about the other 20 percent.) Not as good news are the side effects he can expect from the treatment: extreme fatigue, a permanent 10 percent hearing loss, greater risk of secondary cancers later (where have we heard that one before?) a permanent loss of the ability to produce saliva, therefore, chronic dry mouth both during the treatments and for life, severe mouth sores, possibly necessitating a feeding tube, possibly a permanent ban on solid foods, and life-long dental problems on the teeth he has left (yeah, because he hasn’t had THAT already for the past three years?) So, in a perfect world, he’ll be a tired, deaf, dry-mouthed, toothless cranky man existing on chicken soup and food in a blender. But hey, he won’t have cancer anymore. It’ll be like being married to my dad. (Those of you who know Calvin can laugh, right?)
But that’s ok, right? Because a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. So it’s fine. Timing has become tricky, since radiation was scheduled to begin next week, last five weeks, and he will need a support person there, at a minimum, for the last two weeks. Obviously, at 38 weeks pregnant, it won’t be me. So my mom was elected, which is fine, except she has always been our “helper” person during my deliveries, watching the kids while I am in labor …. So if she’s in Seattle with Blaine, I’ll be here by myself. Which is fine … I can give birth by myself, and pass the kids off to babysitters for a few days while I’m in the hospital, although that’s not an ideal situation. So, although it took an extreme amount of childcare coordination on her part, my sister offered to come here for the delivery, just so I wouldn’t have to go it alone --- problem solved, right?
Wrong.
First, Blaine has had an inordinate amount of problems getting the legwork for his Seattle trip taken care of this week. The military is great about our coverage, and what they provide for us, but Blaine has to do every bit of the groundwork and gophering himself. Travel forms, finance, hotel arrangements, hospital arrangements, medical records, etc. First, he went to the travel office to get orders so he could actually make the trip, and realized they put the wrong dates down for air travel. But they can fix that, so it’s fine. Then we found out the Air Force will pay for my mom to travel to Seattle, and to help Blaine back to Atlanta at the end of treatment, as his "official chaperone" but getting her back home is our problem. There was no working that one out. So we’ll either drive her home, or fly her home, which is no problem and fine. Just something we’ll worry about later. Because of course we don’t know exactly *when* they’ll be coming home, so we’re not able to make plans for that now. Then, he needed a few prescriptions refilled, but there was an exercise going on this week in the medical clinic on base, so his doctor didn’t return his calls for four solid days. This is the same doctor who has literally made house calls for us, so I know he wasn’t avoiding Blaine, he just wasn’t available. But in the meantime Blaine was getting panicky that he was leaving on Monday with no pain meds and no-one seemed able to help.
Then, on to today’s drama.
In an effort to protect his remaining teeth during this radiation, Blaine had to get fitted today for what is called a hidden bite block (I envision some sort of mouth guard like football players wear, but really, I have no idea what it is. For all I know, it’s like the dental equipment my sister wore all through junior high ….. wouldn’t that be unfortunate? A Jason radiation mask AND head gear???) His initial appointment with the dentist was this morning, then he planned on joining the kids and I for the annual Field Day Extravaganza at their school. He called me mid-morning to tell me the dentist found a cavity and they absolutely had to fill it before he could have radiation, so he’d be running late. Fine. Then, they got in there and discovered the cavity was so large there was no way to salvage the tooth, so it would have to be extracted. Today. Ok, well, he’ll miss Field Day, but that’s fine. But (there’s always a but, isn’t there?) radiation can’t take place if there is an “open” wound in the mouth …. So unless Blaine wants to risk some kind of radiation-poisoning-infection-scenario, and spend time in a hyper baric chamber, (I swear to you, they actually mentioned a hyper baric oxygen chamber!) radiation will have to be postponed by a week to ten days. Ix-nay and ancel-Cay on all the planning and reserving and coordinating Blaine had done this week in order to leave on Monday. All down the crapper.
Which would be fine …. But my mom and my sister have already gone to great lengths to clear their schedules and make travel arrangements for the days we told them we would need them. I arranged my delivery, and let the baby’s parents know exactly when to come, based on the supposed radiation schedule. And now, we have no idea when Blaine will be rescheduled. Naturally, the radiation-oncologist wasn’t available today to talk this situation over with us. Naturally. Why would he be? Why should one freaking thing go smoothly, or as planned. Why should we have any stinkin’ clue when he’ll be getting his treatments? Ten days later? Two weeks later? How does that affect my sister’s travel? My mom’s travel? This delivery? Seriously, I would throw my hands up in the air at this point, but the carpal tunnel is so bad I’m afraid I would never get the feeling back in my fingers.
You know the teacher in the Charlie Brown cartoons, whose face you never see, and whose voice is just a monotonous “Wah Wah Wah--Wah- Wah”? That’s how I feel, listening to myself. Every plan we have has a flaw. Every contingency plan has a flaw. If we do plan A, then **this** is our dilemma. If we move to plan B, then detail #3245 bites us in the ass. Plan C doesn’t work because *that* would be too logical.
OK, so, a couple of things I have to apologize for:
1. That this is so boring. Don’t deny it. I see some of your eyeballs rolled back in your head. I’ll get back on the site this weekend and post some photos from the kids’ Field Day …. Much cuter and more entertaining than the details of Blaine’s ongoing medical saga.
2. If it sounds for one micro-second like I am complaining about Blaine’s treatment. We are blessed and hopeful for full recovery. Thank goodness for this type of treatment, the people who can do it, and the opportunity it gives him for remission, even if it’s in Seattle. I just wish things were a little less complicated.
3. If it sounds for one micro-second like I am complaining about this surrogacy. I am blessed. This pregnancy has been uneventful and special. All that matters is that the parents get to welcome a beautiful, healthy child into the world. I’m lucky to be a part of it. I just wish things were a little less complicated.
4. My comment about the hardship of single parenting in my last post. First of all, I was only “single” for four days ….. I think even Mommy Dearest could’ve handled four measly days. And I sincerely want to apologize to how insensitive it must have sounded to my friends D.G. and K.E. (You know who you are, and why I need to apologize.) I am blessed. I love my kids beyond measure, even when I want to staple their little mouths shut. We will manage our five weeks alone just fine.
5. If it sounds for one second like I am complaining about the military. I am very proud and grateful for what the military has done for us. It’s just difficult to make arrangements, for major life events like this, when our family is so far away. As a "dependent spouse", I love being a peripheral part of the Air Force ---- but, have found myself gazing longingly at my “There’s no place like home” Dorothy-slippers more in the past three years then I did the previous fifteen military years combined.
6. If it sounds like I’m complaining because my crystal ball isn’t working. We’ve been dealing with this shit for three years. I just want to know the end is in sight. Right now, the end is so far away we couldn’t find it with both hands, a blow torch and a periscope. I know there are no guarantees in life ………….. but I would sure appreciate a “Get out of jail free” card right about now.
Well, there’s a 2000 word limit on Kvetching Posts, and I’ve exceeded it tonight. So I’ll sign off for now. I’m going to go bury my disgruntlement in a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie, sleep off the sugar low, and hopefully awaken tomorrow feeling refreshed and cheerful. Of course, my kids are out of school for Easter Break, so my cheerfulness most likely won’t last past 9am, the estimated TTBFWOA (Time To Begin Fighting With One Another.)
But a girl can dream, right?
PS. One happy parenting moment today, proving I am a child of the 80’s: I taught my kids the words:
"Alfalfa, will you swing me before we have lunch?
Sure, Darla.
Say Romeo, what about your promise to the he-man woman hater’s club?
I’m sorry Spanky, I have to live my own life."
To my delight, they love the song as much as I do.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
THE BLESSING THAT IS CARINGBRIDGE
Kendrie -- Day 112 OT
Blaine -- countdown to radiation
Sorry for the delay in updating --- I just have to say, in my defense, doing this single parenting thing stinks. Not so much the manual labor; the feeding and bathing and chauffeuring them to and fro …. that's the easy part. It’s the being all things (mediator, cheerleader, band aid-applier, guidance counselor, homework helper, social coordinator, father figure, referee, sympathetic shoulder, etc) to all different people, 24/7, and trying to do it with a cheerful attitude and a smile on my face that I find tiring. Tiring? Shoot, I’m exhausted, and I’ve only been at it 48 hours! What happens when Blaine returns to Seattle for those five weeks of radiation??? I’ll never make it! So anyway, the first thing to go this week has been my late-night computer time, because heaven knows how crabby I get when I’m sleep-deprived, so I’m on self-imposed early bedtime, hence holdup #1 in updating this site.
Ironic that because of cancer, Blaine has not been deployed with the military, and now, because of cancer, he will be gone from us for five or six weeks, which I’m totally complaining about (and it hasn’t even started yet …. what does that say about my positive attitude?) Yet, given the hindsight of 20/20 vision, I would give back the cancer and take a six-month deployment for him --- in a second. Obviously, I am way too fickle (something Blaine has claimed for years, and might actually be right about!)
Anyway, on to my topic of the day -- Caringbridge blessings.
I hope that those of you who take the time to surf Caringbridge pages, whether it’s two or three favorite sites, or two or three dozen, and sign notes of encouragement in the guestbooks …. I would hope that you know how wonderful that support is to the families going through whatever comprises their personal trials. I would also hope that as a Caringbridge supporter, you get something in return; whether it’s a smile at a funny story, the joy of seeing a child you care about finish treatment and re-start their “normal” life, or the good feeling that comes with knowing you’ve helped make someone’s day a little brighter, just by stopping by and saying hello.
As for me, it’s a win-win situation. Actually, win-win-win-WIN! I receive happiness in following along on the sites of families I’ve come to care about, the satisfaction of knowing I can make someone’s day brighter by signing a guestbook and saying hi, the cheap therapy of using Kendrie’s site as my own, personal “Lie down on the Internet couch and vent about my feelings” remedy, and also, one of the biggest perks of all, the friendships we have made, both online and in person, through this service.
Georgia … specifically, the Atlanta area, has lots of really great social support organizations. Since we only live a few hours away, we’ve been able to take advantage and meet other families, who we’ve come to care about in a way I would never have understood prior to our induction into this crazy world of pediatric cancer.
Local (or psuedo-local) Caringbridge blessings:
Kendrie and our sweet friend Catie.
Our weekend Atlanta visit with Brandon's family.
Camp Sunshine circus with Madie, Camp Jack, and Jacob.
An Atlanta Braves game, courtesy of CureSearch, with Brady, Keegan, and lots of other kids.
North, south, east and west Caringbridge blessings:
Tyler from Oklahoma.
Jacob in New Mexico. (although he was still in Georgia when we met his family!)
The entire group of All-Kids who attended the Easter Egg Hunt and Egg Roll at the White House in DC, 2004.
Andrew from California.
Alexis from Minnesota, who we met at Give Kids the World in Florida.
And there are other blessings as well, that I didn’t get photos with, but whose families I’ve met, such as Molly from New York and Jill from Missouri.
Our latest CB blessing came on Saturday, in the form of Finn’s family, returning to Ohio from their vacation in Florida -- I just KNEW living right off I-75 would pay off some day! When I found out they would be traveling only a few miles from our house, I begged, pleaded and groveled until they agreed to visit. Good thing, too, because I **totally** am not above putting a magneto-tron-ometer force field around their car and setting up a giant magnet in our driveway, if I had to.
I have followed Finn’s CB site for quite some time, partly because he’s cute as a button, and partly because his mom Natalie cracks me up. She reminds me of ….. ME! and a little narcissism never hurt anyone, right? Sure enough, their family is just as great in person as I thought they would be. Although I don’t think Finn thought too highly of us, seeing as how we didn’t have a SINGLE Thomas the Tank Engine train in the entire house --- what is wrong with us? But we had a great visit and I completely want to move to Ohio to hang out with them some more. Shoot, I’d move to Ohio just to listen to Finn’s dad Eamonn talk, since he’s British and has that really cool accent. (You know us Americans are suckers for a cool accent.)
Declan and Kendrie, the only two kids we could get to willingly sit on the sofa and pose for a photo.
The kids actually had a great time playing together, not that you can really tell in this photo. Kellen, aka Mr. Cheerful McSunshine, had just been awakened and wasn't real cooperative. And Finn, well, what can I say? He was NOT feeling the love on the couch! But I still think he's adorable.
Yes, this is how we treat our children when we think no-one is looking. Sometimes we get lucky and spare change falls out of their pockets.
Thank you Rooney family, for extending your vacation (or more accurately, your I-75 Endurance Marathon) long enough to spend time with us!!!
Then sometimes, the blessing that is Caringbridge is bittersweet, as it was for me on Monday when I attended the Celebration of Life Service for Baby Jay. I had never attended a memorial service for a child before and quite frankly, I was a wreck. It was too easy to watch the wonderful slide show presentation they had of Jay’s life … and see those pictures of him in the early days of treatment, swollen from steroids, laying in a hospital bed … or later, photos of him bald …. and realize I have many similar photos of Kendrie while she was on treatment. You hear about a parent who loses a child, and the first thing to come to mind is “I just can’t imagine” when the truth of it is, any parent whose child has been diagnosed with cancer, CAN imagine.
Of course, cancer parents don’t have a monopoly on caring, as evidenced by the many, many wet eyes around me during the service. And the pain I felt sitting there was only a drop in the bucket compared to the ocean of sadness that I’m sure Jay’s parents are feeling. It was a really shitty reminder that while Kendrie has finished her treatment and we’ve moved on, pushing the fear of relapse to the back of our minds and living our lives in as normal, hectic, and chaotic a fashion as possible, cancer has marched on as well and is still claiming innocent children.
And that’s the other reason I haven’t felt like updating this site with rainbows and bunnies and funny stories this week, despite our great visit with Finn and his family. It seems almost insulting to the memory of Jay. Hmmm. Maybe we should substitute “fickle” for “dazed and confused”; might be more fitting, no?
Blaine -- countdown to radiation
Sorry for the delay in updating --- I just have to say, in my defense, doing this single parenting thing stinks. Not so much the manual labor; the feeding and bathing and chauffeuring them to and fro …. that's the easy part. It’s the being all things (mediator, cheerleader, band aid-applier, guidance counselor, homework helper, social coordinator, father figure, referee, sympathetic shoulder, etc) to all different people, 24/7, and trying to do it with a cheerful attitude and a smile on my face that I find tiring. Tiring? Shoot, I’m exhausted, and I’ve only been at it 48 hours! What happens when Blaine returns to Seattle for those five weeks of radiation??? I’ll never make it! So anyway, the first thing to go this week has been my late-night computer time, because heaven knows how crabby I get when I’m sleep-deprived, so I’m on self-imposed early bedtime, hence holdup #1 in updating this site.
Ironic that because of cancer, Blaine has not been deployed with the military, and now, because of cancer, he will be gone from us for five or six weeks, which I’m totally complaining about (and it hasn’t even started yet …. what does that say about my positive attitude?) Yet, given the hindsight of 20/20 vision, I would give back the cancer and take a six-month deployment for him --- in a second. Obviously, I am way too fickle (something Blaine has claimed for years, and might actually be right about!)
Anyway, on to my topic of the day -- Caringbridge blessings.
I hope that those of you who take the time to surf Caringbridge pages, whether it’s two or three favorite sites, or two or three dozen, and sign notes of encouragement in the guestbooks …. I would hope that you know how wonderful that support is to the families going through whatever comprises their personal trials. I would also hope that as a Caringbridge supporter, you get something in return; whether it’s a smile at a funny story, the joy of seeing a child you care about finish treatment and re-start their “normal” life, or the good feeling that comes with knowing you’ve helped make someone’s day a little brighter, just by stopping by and saying hello.
As for me, it’s a win-win situation. Actually, win-win-win-WIN! I receive happiness in following along on the sites of families I’ve come to care about, the satisfaction of knowing I can make someone’s day brighter by signing a guestbook and saying hi, the cheap therapy of using Kendrie’s site as my own, personal “Lie down on the Internet couch and vent about my feelings” remedy, and also, one of the biggest perks of all, the friendships we have made, both online and in person, through this service.
Georgia … specifically, the Atlanta area, has lots of really great social support organizations. Since we only live a few hours away, we’ve been able to take advantage and meet other families, who we’ve come to care about in a way I would never have understood prior to our induction into this crazy world of pediatric cancer.
Local (or psuedo-local) Caringbridge blessings:
Kendrie and our sweet friend Catie.
Our weekend Atlanta visit with Brandon's family.
Camp Sunshine circus with Madie, Camp Jack, and Jacob.
An Atlanta Braves game, courtesy of CureSearch, with Brady, Keegan, and lots of other kids.
North, south, east and west Caringbridge blessings:
Tyler from Oklahoma.
Jacob in New Mexico. (although he was still in Georgia when we met his family!)
The entire group of All-Kids who attended the Easter Egg Hunt and Egg Roll at the White House in DC, 2004.
Andrew from California.
Alexis from Minnesota, who we met at Give Kids the World in Florida.
And there are other blessings as well, that I didn’t get photos with, but whose families I’ve met, such as Molly from New York and Jill from Missouri.
Our latest CB blessing came on Saturday, in the form of Finn’s family, returning to Ohio from their vacation in Florida -- I just KNEW living right off I-75 would pay off some day! When I found out they would be traveling only a few miles from our house, I begged, pleaded and groveled until they agreed to visit. Good thing, too, because I **totally** am not above putting a magneto-tron-ometer force field around their car and setting up a giant magnet in our driveway, if I had to.
I have followed Finn’s CB site for quite some time, partly because he’s cute as a button, and partly because his mom Natalie cracks me up. She reminds me of ….. ME! and a little narcissism never hurt anyone, right? Sure enough, their family is just as great in person as I thought they would be. Although I don’t think Finn thought too highly of us, seeing as how we didn’t have a SINGLE Thomas the Tank Engine train in the entire house --- what is wrong with us? But we had a great visit and I completely want to move to Ohio to hang out with them some more. Shoot, I’d move to Ohio just to listen to Finn’s dad Eamonn talk, since he’s British and has that really cool accent. (You know us Americans are suckers for a cool accent.)
Declan and Kendrie, the only two kids we could get to willingly sit on the sofa and pose for a photo.
The kids actually had a great time playing together, not that you can really tell in this photo. Kellen, aka Mr. Cheerful McSunshine, had just been awakened and wasn't real cooperative. And Finn, well, what can I say? He was NOT feeling the love on the couch! But I still think he's adorable.
Yes, this is how we treat our children when we think no-one is looking. Sometimes we get lucky and spare change falls out of their pockets.
Thank you Rooney family, for extending your vacation (or more accurately, your I-75 Endurance Marathon) long enough to spend time with us!!!
Then sometimes, the blessing that is Caringbridge is bittersweet, as it was for me on Monday when I attended the Celebration of Life Service for Baby Jay. I had never attended a memorial service for a child before and quite frankly, I was a wreck. It was too easy to watch the wonderful slide show presentation they had of Jay’s life … and see those pictures of him in the early days of treatment, swollen from steroids, laying in a hospital bed … or later, photos of him bald …. and realize I have many similar photos of Kendrie while she was on treatment. You hear about a parent who loses a child, and the first thing to come to mind is “I just can’t imagine” when the truth of it is, any parent whose child has been diagnosed with cancer, CAN imagine.
Of course, cancer parents don’t have a monopoly on caring, as evidenced by the many, many wet eyes around me during the service. And the pain I felt sitting there was only a drop in the bucket compared to the ocean of sadness that I’m sure Jay’s parents are feeling. It was a really shitty reminder that while Kendrie has finished her treatment and we’ve moved on, pushing the fear of relapse to the back of our minds and living our lives in as normal, hectic, and chaotic a fashion as possible, cancer has marched on as well and is still claiming innocent children.
And that’s the other reason I haven’t felt like updating this site with rainbows and bunnies and funny stories this week, despite our great visit with Finn and his family. It seems almost insulting to the memory of Jay. Hmmm. Maybe we should substitute “fickle” for “dazed and confused”; might be more fitting, no?
Friday, March 31, 2006
SHAMU THE WHALE (that would be ME) SAYS CARPE DIEM
Kendrie -- Day 106 OT
Blaine -- gearing up for radiation
OK, confession number 1: Yes, yes, I admit it! I made my kids dress in matching green outfits so I could take pictures of their little coordinating selves at the strawberry fields for my scrapbook. All you scrapbookers out there caught me. (But I’d bet ten bucks that “it takes one to know one”! Ha!) Actually, when I woke up that morning the kids were already dressed in play clothes, so I made them change into their green clothes. Then it started raining and we decided not to go, so I made them change out of their green clothes. Then the sun came out and we decided to go and I made them change back IN to their green clothes. They were *really* not very happy with me and my anal photography tendencies. It’s amazing I got smiles out of them at all.
Confession #2: Fourteen POUNDS of berries. Need I say more? I feel like Violet in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. If I eat one more strawberry, I’m going to swell up and turn red, and they’ll have to roll me down to the de-juicing room.
Clarification #1: Blaine, although he is going to Seattle next week, won’t actually start radiation for a few weeks. Next week is his orientation/consultation/get-fitted-for-your-ever-so-pretty-Jason-from-Halloween-radiation-mask session. But we’ll still take all the prayers we can get for a safe trip, and that all our questions are answered. My close friends are sick of hearing about this, so I won’t yammer on, but I’m not allowed to travel with Blaine due to the pregnancy. So if you could spare a few warm thoughts for me …. that my head doesn’t explode from being kept out of the loop ….. that probably wouldn’t hurt, either.
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We woke up this morning, the sun was shining, it was the last day of Spring Break, the kids were all in good moods (pretty much the miracle of the century) and Blaine felt good (hit or miss most days lately) so we decided to take advantage by doing something so wonderful, so extraordinary ….. so “making the MOST” of our life …………. So totally normal. Like take the kids fishing.
Sound silly? Well, since we only had about six weeks from when Kendrie finished treatment until Blaine was re-diagnosed, I don’t feel like we had much of a break from our preoccupation with cancer. First finding out his had returned, then his surgery, then finding out the tumors couldn’t be removed surgically, then recovering from the surgery, then the surgery complication, and since then, researching his treatment options, conferring with all his doctors, and doing the leg-work for the trip to Washington ….. well, we hadn’t taken the time lately to “do normal”.
And I hadn’t even realized it, until I got an e-mail from a friend of mine --- Haley’s mom Cheryl. Haley was a bright, beautiful, sweet, much-loved, musically talented young lady who passed away last fall awaiting a liver transplant. Through the blessing that is Caringbridge, I met Haley and Cheryl both online and in person. Cheryl reminded me recently that despite the small, medium, or extremely HUGE challenges we might face in our lives, taking pleasure in the little, daily stuff is what matters and what helps us get through life. In fact, it’s the best part OF life.
So Blaine and I decided that today, we were going to take advantage of the perfect temperature, the sunshine, the {moderately} cooperative moods of our children, and enjoy a simple day of spending time together as a family, NOT obsessed with cancer for a little while, getting out on the water and catching some fish.
I could tell it’s been a year since the kids have gone out and it made a big difference in their patience. We actually spent two hours on the water, with very little complaining or whining about how bored they were, or how hot they were, or how their life jackets were choking them, or that we must be at a bad spot on the lake because there are no fish, or how the lines keep getting tangled, etc. At one point, Blaine asked if they were ready to go home, and they all three exclaimed “NO!” I was so surprised, I about fell out of the boat. Usually, once we run out of Teddy Grahams to feed the ducks, and the soda gets warm, they’re done. But this time, they hung in there for the long haul. (Hey, when you’re six years old, two hours of fishing IS a long haul!)
The funny part of the day (if you’re the kind of person who thinks it’s hysterical when one family member is hugely insulting to another family member, especially one who is a little stressed out to begin with and extremely hormonal) is when we were putting the boat in the water. Now, it’s not a yacht. Or a speedboat. Or the kind with sleeping quarters. Or even anything you could inter-tube behind, much to the chagrin of the children. In fact, it’s about one step up from a canoe. Although at least we **DO** have an engine, and a trolling motor, thank the heavens because really, can you see me paddling?? Ha!
Anyway, Blaine had the truck backed down the boat ramp in the water and the kids were jumping around on the dock, all excited to get in. Blaine looked at the boat, looked at me. Looked at the boat, looked at the kids. Looked at the boat, looked around the lake, looked at me again. Looked back at the kids. Looked back at the boat. Seemed to be thinking hard, doing some kind of mental calculation.
“What?!?!?” I finally asked, “What is it?”
“Um, you don’t weigh over 200 pounds, do you?”
Oh, gee honey, let’s think about it. I’m seven months PREGNANT --- my thighs and butt ALONE must weigh close to one hundred!
Affronted, I replied, “Well, yes, at this point I’m pretty sure I *do* weigh over 200 pounds, you want to make something of it?” to which he responded, “Well, my boat limit is only 550. Me and the kids combined weigh about 350, so you’re going to put us over the limit. Let’s just hope we don’t get stopped by a warden.”
OK. That's good for my self-esteem.
Then, the only thing that could make me feel any worse, happened. Kendrie got in, Kellen got in, Brayden got in, Blaine got in. I stepped off the dock into the boat and sat down in my seat, only to have Kellen heave a BIG sigh of relief and announce, LOUDLY, to the public in general, “Good news, everyone! Mom got in and we’re NOT SINKING!!!”
The skinny members of our family. Blaine offered to take my picture with the kids, but since I didn’t bring my WIDE ANGLE LENS, I turned him down.
Today’s total fish intake: Zero. Not one. Not one-that-got-away. Not even a nibble. Good thing, since that extra pound and a half would have sunk us right to the bottom!
********************************************************
Now, I already had this update written when I received extremely sad news this evening. Baby Jay from Macon lost his battle with cancer today. Jay and his family attended the same Middle Georgia Support Group, sponsored by Camp Sunshine, that we attended. Although we didn’t know them well, their family made a great impact on Blaine and I, as I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed two people whose faith, during difficult times, has been stronger. Our hearts are breaking for Cindy, Jason, and Jay’s siblings, Kaitlyn and Tanner.
After Blaine pulled the boat and trailer out of the water today, and we began to head home from the lake, I asked him what time it was. He replied 2pm … the only reason I remember that specific time is because I made the comment we had been out on the water for two hours, the kids had acted nicely, and it was a fun way to spend an afternoon. According to Jay’s website update, he passed away at 1:59 this afternoon. So while our family was taking pleasure in the beauty of “normal”, Jay’s family had just started down a road I can’t even imagine.
It makes me even more grateful that I took Cheryl’s advice to enjoy the small, daily things and find happiness in normal. Sometimes normal seems boring. Sometimes normal doesn’t seem worth updating this journal about. Sometimes I worry normal is trivial, or even insulting to those people whose challenges are greater than my own. Lots of times, I forget to appreciate normal while I have it.
This evening, especially, I appreciate it. I hope no matter your own situation, you can find a minute or two of normal and get pleasure from it for yourselves.
Blaine -- gearing up for radiation
OK, confession number 1: Yes, yes, I admit it! I made my kids dress in matching green outfits so I could take pictures of their little coordinating selves at the strawberry fields for my scrapbook. All you scrapbookers out there caught me. (But I’d bet ten bucks that “it takes one to know one”! Ha!) Actually, when I woke up that morning the kids were already dressed in play clothes, so I made them change into their green clothes. Then it started raining and we decided not to go, so I made them change out of their green clothes. Then the sun came out and we decided to go and I made them change back IN to their green clothes. They were *really* not very happy with me and my anal photography tendencies. It’s amazing I got smiles out of them at all.
Confession #2: Fourteen POUNDS of berries. Need I say more? I feel like Violet in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. If I eat one more strawberry, I’m going to swell up and turn red, and they’ll have to roll me down to the de-juicing room.
Clarification #1: Blaine, although he is going to Seattle next week, won’t actually start radiation for a few weeks. Next week is his orientation/consultation/get-fitted-for-your-ever-so-pretty-Jason-from-Halloween-radiation-mask session. But we’ll still take all the prayers we can get for a safe trip, and that all our questions are answered. My close friends are sick of hearing about this, so I won’t yammer on, but I’m not allowed to travel with Blaine due to the pregnancy. So if you could spare a few warm thoughts for me …. that my head doesn’t explode from being kept out of the loop ….. that probably wouldn’t hurt, either.
*****************************************************
We woke up this morning, the sun was shining, it was the last day of Spring Break, the kids were all in good moods (pretty much the miracle of the century) and Blaine felt good (hit or miss most days lately) so we decided to take advantage by doing something so wonderful, so extraordinary ….. so “making the MOST” of our life …………. So totally normal. Like take the kids fishing.
Sound silly? Well, since we only had about six weeks from when Kendrie finished treatment until Blaine was re-diagnosed, I don’t feel like we had much of a break from our preoccupation with cancer. First finding out his had returned, then his surgery, then finding out the tumors couldn’t be removed surgically, then recovering from the surgery, then the surgery complication, and since then, researching his treatment options, conferring with all his doctors, and doing the leg-work for the trip to Washington ….. well, we hadn’t taken the time lately to “do normal”.
And I hadn’t even realized it, until I got an e-mail from a friend of mine --- Haley’s mom Cheryl. Haley was a bright, beautiful, sweet, much-loved, musically talented young lady who passed away last fall awaiting a liver transplant. Through the blessing that is Caringbridge, I met Haley and Cheryl both online and in person. Cheryl reminded me recently that despite the small, medium, or extremely HUGE challenges we might face in our lives, taking pleasure in the little, daily stuff is what matters and what helps us get through life. In fact, it’s the best part OF life.
So Blaine and I decided that today, we were going to take advantage of the perfect temperature, the sunshine, the {moderately} cooperative moods of our children, and enjoy a simple day of spending time together as a family, NOT obsessed with cancer for a little while, getting out on the water and catching some fish.
I could tell it’s been a year since the kids have gone out and it made a big difference in their patience. We actually spent two hours on the water, with very little complaining or whining about how bored they were, or how hot they were, or how their life jackets were choking them, or that we must be at a bad spot on the lake because there are no fish, or how the lines keep getting tangled, etc. At one point, Blaine asked if they were ready to go home, and they all three exclaimed “NO!” I was so surprised, I about fell out of the boat. Usually, once we run out of Teddy Grahams to feed the ducks, and the soda gets warm, they’re done. But this time, they hung in there for the long haul. (Hey, when you’re six years old, two hours of fishing IS a long haul!)
The funny part of the day (if you’re the kind of person who thinks it’s hysterical when one family member is hugely insulting to another family member, especially one who is a little stressed out to begin with and extremely hormonal) is when we were putting the boat in the water. Now, it’s not a yacht. Or a speedboat. Or the kind with sleeping quarters. Or even anything you could inter-tube behind, much to the chagrin of the children. In fact, it’s about one step up from a canoe. Although at least we **DO** have an engine, and a trolling motor, thank the heavens because really, can you see me paddling?? Ha!
Anyway, Blaine had the truck backed down the boat ramp in the water and the kids were jumping around on the dock, all excited to get in. Blaine looked at the boat, looked at me. Looked at the boat, looked at the kids. Looked at the boat, looked around the lake, looked at me again. Looked back at the kids. Looked back at the boat. Seemed to be thinking hard, doing some kind of mental calculation.
“What?!?!?” I finally asked, “What is it?”
“Um, you don’t weigh over 200 pounds, do you?”
Oh, gee honey, let’s think about it. I’m seven months PREGNANT --- my thighs and butt ALONE must weigh close to one hundred!
Affronted, I replied, “Well, yes, at this point I’m pretty sure I *do* weigh over 200 pounds, you want to make something of it?” to which he responded, “Well, my boat limit is only 550. Me and the kids combined weigh about 350, so you’re going to put us over the limit. Let’s just hope we don’t get stopped by a warden.”
OK. That's good for my self-esteem.
Then, the only thing that could make me feel any worse, happened. Kendrie got in, Kellen got in, Brayden got in, Blaine got in. I stepped off the dock into the boat and sat down in my seat, only to have Kellen heave a BIG sigh of relief and announce, LOUDLY, to the public in general, “Good news, everyone! Mom got in and we’re NOT SINKING!!!”
The skinny members of our family. Blaine offered to take my picture with the kids, but since I didn’t bring my WIDE ANGLE LENS, I turned him down.
Today’s total fish intake: Zero. Not one. Not one-that-got-away. Not even a nibble. Good thing, since that extra pound and a half would have sunk us right to the bottom!
********************************************************
Now, I already had this update written when I received extremely sad news this evening. Baby Jay from Macon lost his battle with cancer today. Jay and his family attended the same Middle Georgia Support Group, sponsored by Camp Sunshine, that we attended. Although we didn’t know them well, their family made a great impact on Blaine and I, as I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed two people whose faith, during difficult times, has been stronger. Our hearts are breaking for Cindy, Jason, and Jay’s siblings, Kaitlyn and Tanner.
After Blaine pulled the boat and trailer out of the water today, and we began to head home from the lake, I asked him what time it was. He replied 2pm … the only reason I remember that specific time is because I made the comment we had been out on the water for two hours, the kids had acted nicely, and it was a fun way to spend an afternoon. According to Jay’s website update, he passed away at 1:59 this afternoon. So while our family was taking pleasure in the beauty of “normal”, Jay’s family had just started down a road I can’t even imagine.
It makes me even more grateful that I took Cheryl’s advice to enjoy the small, daily things and find happiness in normal. Sometimes normal seems boring. Sometimes normal doesn’t seem worth updating this journal about. Sometimes I worry normal is trivial, or even insulting to those people whose challenges are greater than my own. Lots of times, I forget to appreciate normal while I have it.
This evening, especially, I appreciate it. I hope no matter your own situation, you can find a minute or two of normal and get pleasure from it for yourselves.
SHAMU THE WHALE (that would be ME) SAYS CARPE DIEM
Kendrie -- Day 106 OT
Blaine -- gearing up for radiation
OK, confession number 1: Yes, yes, I admit it! I made my kids dress in matching green outfits so I could take pictures of their little coordinating selves at the strawberry fields for my scrapbook. All you scrapbookers out there caught me. (But I’d bet ten bucks that “it takes one to know one”! Ha!) Actually, when I woke up that morning the kids were already dressed in play clothes, so I made them change into their green clothes. Then it started raining and we decided not to go, so I made them change out of their green clothes. Then the sun came out and we decided to go and I made them change back IN to their green clothes. They were *really* not very happy with me and my anal photography tendencies. It’s amazing I got smiles out of them at all.
Confession #2: Fourteen POUNDS of berries. Need I say more? I feel like Violet in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. If I eat one more strawberry, I’m going to swell up and turn red, and they’ll have to roll me down to the de-juicing room.
Clarification #1: Blaine, although he is going to Seattle next week, won’t actually start radiation for a few weeks. Next week is his orientation/consultation/get-fitted-for-your-ever-so-pretty-Jason-from-Halloween-radiation-mask session. But we’ll still take all the prayers we can get for a safe trip, and that all our questions are answered. My close friends are sick of hearing about this, so I won’t yammer on, but I’m not allowed to travel with Blaine due to the pregnancy. So if you could spare a few warm thoughts for me …. that my head doesn’t explode from being kept out of the loop ….. that probably wouldn’t hurt, either.
*****************************************************
We woke up this morning, the sun was shining, it was the last day of Spring Break, the kids were all in good moods (pretty much the miracle of the century) and Blaine felt good (hit or miss most days lately) so we decided to take advantage by doing something so wonderful, so extraordinary ….. so “making the MOST” of our life …………. So totally normal. Like take the kids fishing.
Sound silly? Well, since we only had about six weeks from when Kendrie finished treatment until Blaine was re-diagnosed, I don’t feel like we had much of a break from our preoccupation with cancer. First finding out his had returned, then his surgery, then finding out the tumors couldn’t be removed surgically, then recovering from the surgery, then the surgery complication, and since then, researching his treatment options, conferring with all his doctors, and doing the leg-work for the trip to Washington ….. well, we hadn’t taken the time lately to “do normal”.
And I hadn’t even realized it, until I got an e-mail from a friend of mine --- Haley’s mom Cheryl. Haley was a bright, beautiful, sweet, much-loved, musically talented young lady who passed away last fall awaiting a liver transplant. Through the blessing that is Caringbridge, I met Haley and Cheryl both online and in person. Cheryl reminded me recently that despite the small, medium, or extremely HUGE challenges we might face in our lives, taking pleasure in the little, daily stuff is what matters and what helps us get through life. In fact, it’s the best part OF life.
So Blaine and I decided that today, we were going to take advantage of the perfect temperature, the sunshine, the {moderately} cooperative moods of our children, and enjoy a simple day of spending time together as a family, NOT obsessed with cancer for a little while, getting out on the water and catching some fish.
I could tell it’s been a year since the kids have gone out and it made a big difference in their patience. We actually spent two hours on the water, with very little complaining or whining about how bored they were, or how hot they were, or how their life jackets were choking them, or that we must be at a bad spot on the lake because there are no fish, or how the lines keep getting tangled, etc. At one point, Blaine asked if they were ready to go home, and they all three exclaimed “NO!” I was so surprised, I about fell out of the boat. Usually, once we run out of Teddy Grahams to feed the ducks, and the soda gets warm, they’re done. But this time, they hung in there for the long haul. (Hey, when you’re six years old, two hours of fishing IS a long haul!)
The funny part of the day (if you’re the kind of person who thinks it’s hysterical when one family member is hugely insulting to another family member, especially one who is a little stressed out to begin with and extremely hormonal) is when we were putting the boat in the water. Now, it’s not a yacht. Or a speedboat. Or the kind with sleeping quarters. Or even anything you could inter-tube behind, much to the chagrin of the children. In fact, it’s about one step up from a canoe. Although at least we **DO** have an engine, and a trolling motor, thank the heavens because really, can you see me paddling?? Ha!
Anyway, Blaine had the truck backed down the boat ramp in the water and the kids were jumping around on the dock, all excited to get in. Blaine looked at the boat, looked at me. Looked at the boat, looked at the kids. Looked at the boat, looked around the lake, looked at me again. Looked back at the kids. Looked back at the boat. Seemed to be thinking hard, doing some kind of mental calculation.
“What?!?!?” I finally asked, “What is it?”
“Um, you don’t weigh over 200 pounds, do you?”
Oh, gee honey, let’s think about it. I’m seven months PREGNANT --- my thighs and butt ALONE must weigh close to one hundred!
Affronted, I replied, “Well, yes, at this point I’m pretty sure I *do* weigh over 200 pounds, you want to make something of it?” to which he responded, “Well, my boat limit is only 550. Me and the kids combined weigh about 350, so you’re going to put us over the limit. Let’s just hope we don’t get stopped by a warden.”
OK. That's good for my self-esteem.
Then, the only thing that could make me feel any worse, happened. Kendrie got in, Kellen got in, Brayden got in, Blaine got in. I stepped off the dock into the boat and sat down in my seat, only to have Kellen heave a BIG sigh of relief and announce, LOUDLY, to the public in general, “Good news, everyone! Mom got in and we’re NOT SINKING!!!”
The skinny members of our family. Blaine offered to take my picture with the kids, but since I didn’t bring my WIDE ANGLE LENS, I turned him down.
Today’s total fish intake: Zero. Not one. Not one-that-got-away. Not even a nibble. Good thing, since that extra pound and a half would have sunk us right to the bottom!
********************************************************
Now, I already had this update written when I received extremely sad news this evening. Baby Jay from Macon lost his battle with cancer today. Jay and his family attended the same Middle Georgia Support Group, sponsored by Camp Sunshine, that we attended. Although we didn’t know them well, their family made a great impact on Blaine and I, as I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed two people whose faith, during difficult times, has been stronger. Our hearts are breaking for Cindy, Jason, and Jay’s siblings, Kaitlyn and Tanner.
After Blaine pulled the boat and trailer out of the water today, and we began to head home from the lake, I asked him what time it was. He replied 2pm … the only reason I remember that specific time is because I made the comment we had been out on the water for two hours, the kids had acted nicely, and it was a fun way to spend an afternoon. According to Jay’s website update, he passed away at 1:59 this afternoon. So while our family was taking pleasure in the beauty of “normal”, Jay’s family had just started down a road I can’t even imagine.
It makes me even more grateful that I took Cheryl’s advice to enjoy the small, daily things and find happiness in normal. Sometimes normal seems boring. Sometimes normal doesn’t seem worth updating this journal about. Sometimes I worry normal is trivial, or even insulting to those people whose challenges are greater than my own. Lots of times, I forget to appreciate normal while I have it.
This evening, especially, I appreciate it. I hope no matter your own situation, you can find a minute or two of normal and get pleasure from it for yourselves.
Blaine -- gearing up for radiation
OK, confession number 1: Yes, yes, I admit it! I made my kids dress in matching green outfits so I could take pictures of their little coordinating selves at the strawberry fields for my scrapbook. All you scrapbookers out there caught me. (But I’d bet ten bucks that “it takes one to know one”! Ha!) Actually, when I woke up that morning the kids were already dressed in play clothes, so I made them change into their green clothes. Then it started raining and we decided not to go, so I made them change out of their green clothes. Then the sun came out and we decided to go and I made them change back IN to their green clothes. They were *really* not very happy with me and my anal photography tendencies. It’s amazing I got smiles out of them at all.
Confession #2: Fourteen POUNDS of berries. Need I say more? I feel like Violet in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. If I eat one more strawberry, I’m going to swell up and turn red, and they’ll have to roll me down to the de-juicing room.
Clarification #1: Blaine, although he is going to Seattle next week, won’t actually start radiation for a few weeks. Next week is his orientation/consultation/get-fitted-for-your-ever-so-pretty-Jason-from-Halloween-radiation-mask session. But we’ll still take all the prayers we can get for a safe trip, and that all our questions are answered. My close friends are sick of hearing about this, so I won’t yammer on, but I’m not allowed to travel with Blaine due to the pregnancy. So if you could spare a few warm thoughts for me …. that my head doesn’t explode from being kept out of the loop ….. that probably wouldn’t hurt, either.
*****************************************************
We woke up this morning, the sun was shining, it was the last day of Spring Break, the kids were all in good moods (pretty much the miracle of the century) and Blaine felt good (hit or miss most days lately) so we decided to take advantage by doing something so wonderful, so extraordinary ….. so “making the MOST” of our life …………. So totally normal. Like take the kids fishing.
Sound silly? Well, since we only had about six weeks from when Kendrie finished treatment until Blaine was re-diagnosed, I don’t feel like we had much of a break from our preoccupation with cancer. First finding out his had returned, then his surgery, then finding out the tumors couldn’t be removed surgically, then recovering from the surgery, then the surgery complication, and since then, researching his treatment options, conferring with all his doctors, and doing the leg-work for the trip to Washington ….. well, we hadn’t taken the time lately to “do normal”.
And I hadn’t even realized it, until I got an e-mail from a friend of mine --- Haley’s mom Cheryl. Haley was a bright, beautiful, sweet, much-loved, musically talented young lady who passed away last fall awaiting a liver transplant. Through the blessing that is Caringbridge, I met Haley and Cheryl both online and in person. Cheryl reminded me recently that despite the small, medium, or extremely HUGE challenges we might face in our lives, taking pleasure in the little, daily stuff is what matters and what helps us get through life. In fact, it’s the best part OF life.
So Blaine and I decided that today, we were going to take advantage of the perfect temperature, the sunshine, the {moderately} cooperative moods of our children, and enjoy a simple day of spending time together as a family, NOT obsessed with cancer for a little while, getting out on the water and catching some fish.
I could tell it’s been a year since the kids have gone out and it made a big difference in their patience. We actually spent two hours on the water, with very little complaining or whining about how bored they were, or how hot they were, or how their life jackets were choking them, or that we must be at a bad spot on the lake because there are no fish, or how the lines keep getting tangled, etc. At one point, Blaine asked if they were ready to go home, and they all three exclaimed “NO!” I was so surprised, I about fell out of the boat. Usually, once we run out of Teddy Grahams to feed the ducks, and the soda gets warm, they’re done. But this time, they hung in there for the long haul. (Hey, when you’re six years old, two hours of fishing IS a long haul!)
The funny part of the day (if you’re the kind of person who thinks it’s hysterical when one family member is hugely insulting to another family member, especially one who is a little stressed out to begin with and extremely hormonal) is when we were putting the boat in the water. Now, it’s not a yacht. Or a speedboat. Or the kind with sleeping quarters. Or even anything you could inter-tube behind, much to the chagrin of the children. In fact, it’s about one step up from a canoe. Although at least we **DO** have an engine, and a trolling motor, thank the heavens because really, can you see me paddling?? Ha!
Anyway, Blaine had the truck backed down the boat ramp in the water and the kids were jumping around on the dock, all excited to get in. Blaine looked at the boat, looked at me. Looked at the boat, looked at the kids. Looked at the boat, looked around the lake, looked at me again. Looked back at the kids. Looked back at the boat. Seemed to be thinking hard, doing some kind of mental calculation.
“What?!?!?” I finally asked, “What is it?”
“Um, you don’t weigh over 200 pounds, do you?”
Oh, gee honey, let’s think about it. I’m seven months PREGNANT --- my thighs and butt ALONE must weigh close to one hundred!
Affronted, I replied, “Well, yes, at this point I’m pretty sure I *do* weigh over 200 pounds, you want to make something of it?” to which he responded, “Well, my boat limit is only 550. Me and the kids combined weigh about 350, so you’re going to put us over the limit. Let’s just hope we don’t get stopped by a warden.”
OK. That's good for my self-esteem.
Then, the only thing that could make me feel any worse, happened. Kendrie got in, Kellen got in, Brayden got in, Blaine got in. I stepped off the dock into the boat and sat down in my seat, only to have Kellen heave a BIG sigh of relief and announce, LOUDLY, to the public in general, “Good news, everyone! Mom got in and we’re NOT SINKING!!!”
The skinny members of our family. Blaine offered to take my picture with the kids, but since I didn’t bring my WIDE ANGLE LENS, I turned him down.
Today’s total fish intake: Zero. Not one. Not one-that-got-away. Not even a nibble. Good thing, since that extra pound and a half would have sunk us right to the bottom!
********************************************************
Now, I already had this update written when I received extremely sad news this evening. Baby Jay from Macon lost his battle with cancer today. Jay and his family attended the same Middle Georgia Support Group, sponsored by Camp Sunshine, that we attended. Although we didn’t know them well, their family made a great impact on Blaine and I, as I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed two people whose faith, during difficult times, has been stronger. Our hearts are breaking for Cindy, Jason, and Jay’s siblings, Kaitlyn and Tanner.
After Blaine pulled the boat and trailer out of the water today, and we began to head home from the lake, I asked him what time it was. He replied 2pm … the only reason I remember that specific time is because I made the comment we had been out on the water for two hours, the kids had acted nicely, and it was a fun way to spend an afternoon. According to Jay’s website update, he passed away at 1:59 this afternoon. So while our family was taking pleasure in the beauty of “normal”, Jay’s family had just started down a road I can’t even imagine.
It makes me even more grateful that I took Cheryl’s advice to enjoy the small, daily things and find happiness in normal. Sometimes normal seems boring. Sometimes normal doesn’t seem worth updating this journal about. Sometimes I worry normal is trivial, or even insulting to those people whose challenges are greater than my own. Lots of times, I forget to appreciate normal while I have it.
This evening, especially, I appreciate it. I hope no matter your own situation, you can find a minute or two of normal and get pleasure from it for yourselves.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
STRAWBERRIES, ANYONE?
Kendrie -- Day 105 OT
Blaine -- headed to Seattle next week; preparing for radiation
Well, here are a few photos from our annual strawberry-picking outing that took place on Tuesday. No grumpy old people, no wild or crazy adventures to recap (unless you count the northern tundra wind that almost blew us away) and no amazing anecdotes, except for the fact my kids picked fourteen POUNDS of strawberries between them. Strawberry pie, strawberry shortcake, strawberry ice cream, strawberry preserves, strawberry jam, whew! I’ve been busy! ….. naw, I’m just kidding. I’m too lazy to do any of that stuff; we’re just eating LOTS of strawberries around the house these past few days.
See? What did I tell you about the wind? And her hair is long enough to blow straight up now!
Blaine -- headed to Seattle next week; preparing for radiation
Well, here are a few photos from our annual strawberry-picking outing that took place on Tuesday. No grumpy old people, no wild or crazy adventures to recap (unless you count the northern tundra wind that almost blew us away) and no amazing anecdotes, except for the fact my kids picked fourteen POUNDS of strawberries between them. Strawberry pie, strawberry shortcake, strawberry ice cream, strawberry preserves, strawberry jam, whew! I’ve been busy! ….. naw, I’m just kidding. I’m too lazy to do any of that stuff; we’re just eating LOTS of strawberries around the house these past few days.
See? What did I tell you about the wind? And her hair is long enough to blow straight up now!
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
"I HATE KIDS AND DOGS"
Kendrie -- Day 103 OT
Blaine -- still waiting………………….
Confusing comment #1, spoken by retired, elderly door-greeter volunteer at the Air Force Museum yesterday, as me and my friends Renee and Amy walked in the door with our six kids: “Are all those kids yours?” (he spoke directly to Amy, despite Renee and me standing only a few feet away.)
Joking, Renee replied, “No, but if you want to borrow one or two of them, we’re happy to leave them and come back and pick them up in a few hours” …. Said with a smile …..
Confusing comment #2, spoken by old man volunteer, with a completely straight face: “No. I hate kids and dogs.”
Um. Okaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyy. This is who you want greeting the general public at a museum dependent upon voluntary donations to make its budget? Because he really gave ME a warm fuzzy talking about my kids like that!
My only regret was that my incredibly witty reply, “Really? Because what *I* hate are crotchety old people” didn’t come to me until ten minutes later. Story of my life. Sharp, stinging retorts, in a timely manner, are not my forte. Dang it. Because that was a good one.
Wish us better luck with the crotchety old people at the strawberry field today.
Blaine -- still waiting………………….
Confusing comment #1, spoken by retired, elderly door-greeter volunteer at the Air Force Museum yesterday, as me and my friends Renee and Amy walked in the door with our six kids: “Are all those kids yours?” (he spoke directly to Amy, despite Renee and me standing only a few feet away.)
Joking, Renee replied, “No, but if you want to borrow one or two of them, we’re happy to leave them and come back and pick them up in a few hours” …. Said with a smile …..
Confusing comment #2, spoken by old man volunteer, with a completely straight face: “No. I hate kids and dogs.”
Um. Okaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyy. This is who you want greeting the general public at a museum dependent upon voluntary donations to make its budget? Because he really gave ME a warm fuzzy talking about my kids like that!
My only regret was that my incredibly witty reply, “Really? Because what *I* hate are crotchety old people” didn’t come to me until ten minutes later. Story of my life. Sharp, stinging retorts, in a timely manner, are not my forte. Dang it. Because that was a good one.
Wish us better luck with the crotchety old people at the strawberry field today.
Sunday, March 26, 2006
MORE TALES FROM THE CLOSET
Kendrie -- day 101 Off-Treatment
Blaine -- we’re hoping to hear something this week
Two things I noticed this weekend with regard to my kids’ closets; proof positive that I’m going insane. Or that I’ve already been there for a long time, courtesy of my children.
Yesterday, hanging some of Kellen’s clothes up, a shirt of his kept falling off the hanger. I still use those kid’s sized hangers that you can buy ten for a dollar …. but the neck of some of his shirts are too big. After bending over for the second time to pick the shirt up off the floor, it struck me:
“UUUGH! I’m going to have to start hanging his clothes on ADULT size hangers!” (said in a grumpy voice)
Then it struck me:
“Waaaaahhhhh! This means he’s big enough for adult-size hangers!” (said in a sad, pathetic, how-can-they-be-growing-up-so-fast voice!)
Also, when I woke up yesterday morning, the kids were already outside playing in the backyard. More specifically, digging up roly-polys, their latest obsession. I peered out the dining room window, looking closer, and realized that although it was Saturday, Brayden was completely dressed in a school shirt, khaki pants, and favorite school shoes. On her hands and knees. Digging in the dirt. Looking for bugs. My mantra, I swear, should be “Do you think I do laundry for the fun of it?” because honestly, I must say it a thousand times a day.
So I called her inside and told her to change into some play clothes. Which of course meant she had to STOP digging for roly-polys, a fact which upset her greatly, causing her to argue with me, “But we’re going out for dinner tonight for Kellen’s birthday and I’m already dressed.” Yes, I know we’re going out for Kellen’s birthday dinner tonight, but that’s not for ANOTHER TWELVE HOURS and in the meantime you are not going to dig in the dirt in your school clothes on a Saturday morning.
Stomp, stomp, grumble, grumble, in she came to change into sweats. That she wore outside for half an hour, before deciding she was done playing outside, coming inside, changing BACK into her school clothes, and putting her sweats in the dirty laundry basket. Half an hour later, she decided there was nothing good on TV, so she wanted to go back outside. I told her to put her play clothes back on, a suggestion which upset her GREATLY. I look up ten minutes later, and she was outside, wearing a completely different set of clean play clothes!
Am I the ***only*** person who understands that when the laundry baskets in their rooms get full, that is a signal the clothes must be washed? Am since **I** am the one doing the washing, perhaps NOT wearing seven different outfits a day, some for only half an hour, and then putting them ALL in the basket, would conceivably be helpful??? Is nine too young to be taught to do her own laundry? Or maybe I should just charge her a quarter for every load I have to do for her, taking it out of her allowance, until she figures it out for herself, or goes broke, whichever happens first.
Maybe I should just focus on the positive …. the fact they actually put their clothes IN the basket, instead of leaving them laying all over the house. {{ Stay grateful … deep breaths …. silver lining… at least they use the baskets }}
I guess the flip side is Kellen, who would wear the same underwear and socks all week if I didn’t remind him to change every morning when he gets dressed. And I’d assume that’s a boy thing, but Kendrie is the same way, so who knows?
Oh well, if that’s my biggest problem this week, then I’d say our Spring Break is lining up to be a good one. Full of laundry, yes, but good nonetheless.
PS. Happy birthday, Kellen, my 8-yr old boy, with big-fat neck shirts!
Blaine -- we’re hoping to hear something this week
Two things I noticed this weekend with regard to my kids’ closets; proof positive that I’m going insane. Or that I’ve already been there for a long time, courtesy of my children.
Yesterday, hanging some of Kellen’s clothes up, a shirt of his kept falling off the hanger. I still use those kid’s sized hangers that you can buy ten for a dollar …. but the neck of some of his shirts are too big. After bending over for the second time to pick the shirt up off the floor, it struck me:
“UUUGH! I’m going to have to start hanging his clothes on ADULT size hangers!” (said in a grumpy voice)
Then it struck me:
“Waaaaahhhhh! This means he’s big enough for adult-size hangers!” (said in a sad, pathetic, how-can-they-be-growing-up-so-fast voice!)
Also, when I woke up yesterday morning, the kids were already outside playing in the backyard. More specifically, digging up roly-polys, their latest obsession. I peered out the dining room window, looking closer, and realized that although it was Saturday, Brayden was completely dressed in a school shirt, khaki pants, and favorite school shoes. On her hands and knees. Digging in the dirt. Looking for bugs. My mantra, I swear, should be “Do you think I do laundry for the fun of it?” because honestly, I must say it a thousand times a day.
So I called her inside and told her to change into some play clothes. Which of course meant she had to STOP digging for roly-polys, a fact which upset her greatly, causing her to argue with me, “But we’re going out for dinner tonight for Kellen’s birthday and I’m already dressed.” Yes, I know we’re going out for Kellen’s birthday dinner tonight, but that’s not for ANOTHER TWELVE HOURS and in the meantime you are not going to dig in the dirt in your school clothes on a Saturday morning.
Stomp, stomp, grumble, grumble, in she came to change into sweats. That she wore outside for half an hour, before deciding she was done playing outside, coming inside, changing BACK into her school clothes, and putting her sweats in the dirty laundry basket. Half an hour later, she decided there was nothing good on TV, so she wanted to go back outside. I told her to put her play clothes back on, a suggestion which upset her GREATLY. I look up ten minutes later, and she was outside, wearing a completely different set of clean play clothes!
Am I the ***only*** person who understands that when the laundry baskets in their rooms get full, that is a signal the clothes must be washed? Am since **I** am the one doing the washing, perhaps NOT wearing seven different outfits a day, some for only half an hour, and then putting them ALL in the basket, would conceivably be helpful??? Is nine too young to be taught to do her own laundry? Or maybe I should just charge her a quarter for every load I have to do for her, taking it out of her allowance, until she figures it out for herself, or goes broke, whichever happens first.
Maybe I should just focus on the positive …. the fact they actually put their clothes IN the basket, instead of leaving them laying all over the house. {{ Stay grateful … deep breaths …. silver lining… at least they use the baskets }}
I guess the flip side is Kellen, who would wear the same underwear and socks all week if I didn’t remind him to change every morning when he gets dressed. And I’d assume that’s a boy thing, but Kendrie is the same way, so who knows?
Oh well, if that’s my biggest problem this week, then I’d say our Spring Break is lining up to be a good one. Full of laundry, yes, but good nonetheless.
PS. Happy birthday, Kellen, my 8-yr old boy, with big-fat neck shirts!
Thursday, March 23, 2006
IT’S A SMALL WORLD, AFTER ALL
Kendrie -- Day 98 OT
Blaine -- who the heck knows, but he had his lip repaired today and said it hurt like hell.
Yes, it is indeed a small world. Or maybe it’s just that MY worlds are so small they occasionally bump into one another. That happened this week, in sort of a funny way. Not funny as in ha-ha, but funny as in coincidental, fluky, small-world-sort of way. Or could it be that my worlds are so BIG that they occasionally bump into one another? Like my thighs?
Wait. What was my point again?
Oh, yeah, small world stuff. I spent the weekend before last cleaning out my kids’ closets, getting ready to put away their winter clothes and drag out the summer stuff. I have to confess this makes me very happy, considering Kellen and Kendrie SHARE a closet the size of a coat closet in their bedroom, no lie, so having all those jeans and sweaters in there makes for pretty crowded quarters. Shorts and t-shirts are much more manageable. Regarding the cramped space, Blaine put in an extra bar, I’ve tried putting shoes on the top shelf ….. I’ve even considered calling in the Dream Closet people, but with only twelve square feet of space, I’m not sure they could accomplish much.
Wait. What was my point again?
Oh, yeah, closets. In going through their clothes, I began to separate the too-small outfits into three piles: good enough to sell on ebay, mediocre enough to donate to Goodwill, and so crappy not even the hurricane victims would want this stuff.
Several of the “good enough to sell on ebay” outfits were actually matching brother/sister/sister outfits that the kids have worn the past few years for church and Easter photos. On a side note, wish me luck that they don’t turn up their noses this year, thinking they are too “old and mature” for silly matching dresses --- especially considering I’ve already bought them for this year! I keep waiting for the day they refuse to humor my oh-you’re-so-cute-in-your-matching-clothes requests …. I’m not sure if the matching Easter outfits, or the matching PJ’s at Christmas will be the first to go, but I’m not ready to give up either just yet, let me tell you.
Wait. What was my point again?
Oh, yeah, ebay. I’m not any kind of power ebay seller, like my girlfriend Renee, who has dozens of items going online at any given time. I only sell two or three times a year, and I just sell clothes that don’t fit my kids any more, but are still in good shape. I don’t make hundreds of dollars …. Heck, sometimes I don’t even make enough to cover the ebay fees and postage and I wind up LOSING money, prompting me to wonder why didn’t I just take it to Goodwill to begin with??? But it’s fun to track the items and if I’m lucky, I make a little bit of money, at least enough to pay for the gas to drive the bags to the post office. I really should check into that postal delivery from home option.
So I called Renee this week, the Queen of All Things Ebay, and asked her opinion: “Hey, I’ve got several sets of matching outfits that the kids wore for Easter the past few years. I think it might bring more attention to the sale if I put a photo of the kids in their matching outfits up on the site …. What do you think? Is that a security issue? Pictures of my kids just floating around on the internet?? Am I risking their safety in the hopes of making a few measly dollars?” But, she reminded me that I’ve been putting their pictures up on this Caringbridge site for over two years now and have never given it a second thought, have gone public with the dates our family is gone on vacation, dates we’re going to be certain places ….. yeah, good point. So up the pictures went, notions of security by the wayside.
Two days later, I got an e-mail from ebay that someone had a question about one of my sale items. “Good!” I thought, “at least someone is checking out my stuff.” It’s depressing to put items up on ebay, pay the insertion fees, and have not one single person bid on it. Like the universe is sending me the message, “Hey, lady, we don’t want your crap.” So when someone sends a message, usually a question about an outfit, or combining shipping charges if they buy more than one thing, I take it as a good sign. At least someone is *considering* my crap.
I opened the message, only to have the text of the message read: “Oh my gosh! I follow your daughter’s story on Caringbridge!!”
Now, how funny is that? She must have recognized the photo of Brayden, Kellen and Kendrie that I had previously on this site, the same photo that I had just put up on ebay in an attempt to sell the clothes ….. that cracks me up. Maybe that’s a great way to increase my ebay sales …. Try to coax all of you CB readers to go to ebay and check out the sale items listed under kristieokc, my ebay name. You should go there just to see what Kendrie looked liked before diagnosis, when she really had hair. Or, I could end every ebay auction with a web link to this Caringbridge site, and try to bring two of my worlds even closer.
What’s even more interesting is that this is the second time something like that has happened. The first time I was selling a bunch of outfits with matching hats, purchased during Kendrie’s Bald Phase #1, and the lady who bought them told me how happy she was to have found them because she was trying to adopt a little girl with leukemia ….. so I wound up introducing her to my online support group. Again, I’m telling you, it’s a small world.
Anyway, I just found that pretty coincidental. It’s not like I have millions of people reading this site, or that there can possibly be millions of people scouring ebay for matching brother/sister Easter outfits. And yet one person managed to find me on both. Small world, don’t you think?
One more thing before I sign off ---- I hope you guys have been following Keegan’s site the past few weeks as he has begun his relapse protocol. He’s having a rough go of it lately with some ara-c fevers and unplanned ER visits and I’m sure he could use the support from all of you. And in extremely depressing news, an adorable little girl named Hunter on our list serve found out this week that she has also relapsed. What makes Hunter’s relapse even more insulting is that she just finished treatment in February, and had gone in this week to have her port removed, and to get one final “all-clear” spinal, only to have the spinal show leukemia cells in her CNS. Thankfully Hunter’s bone marrow was clear … small consolation for a child who finished two plus years of chemo, only to have to start all over again. Please take a moment to go to Hunter’s site and give her some words of encouragement as she faces this newest battle.
Blaine -- who the heck knows, but he had his lip repaired today and said it hurt like hell.
Yes, it is indeed a small world. Or maybe it’s just that MY worlds are so small they occasionally bump into one another. That happened this week, in sort of a funny way. Not funny as in ha-ha, but funny as in coincidental, fluky, small-world-sort of way. Or could it be that my worlds are so BIG that they occasionally bump into one another? Like my thighs?
Wait. What was my point again?
Oh, yeah, small world stuff. I spent the weekend before last cleaning out my kids’ closets, getting ready to put away their winter clothes and drag out the summer stuff. I have to confess this makes me very happy, considering Kellen and Kendrie SHARE a closet the size of a coat closet in their bedroom, no lie, so having all those jeans and sweaters in there makes for pretty crowded quarters. Shorts and t-shirts are much more manageable. Regarding the cramped space, Blaine put in an extra bar, I’ve tried putting shoes on the top shelf ….. I’ve even considered calling in the Dream Closet people, but with only twelve square feet of space, I’m not sure they could accomplish much.
Wait. What was my point again?
Oh, yeah, closets. In going through their clothes, I began to separate the too-small outfits into three piles: good enough to sell on ebay, mediocre enough to donate to Goodwill, and so crappy not even the hurricane victims would want this stuff.
Several of the “good enough to sell on ebay” outfits were actually matching brother/sister/sister outfits that the kids have worn the past few years for church and Easter photos. On a side note, wish me luck that they don’t turn up their noses this year, thinking they are too “old and mature” for silly matching dresses --- especially considering I’ve already bought them for this year! I keep waiting for the day they refuse to humor my oh-you’re-so-cute-in-your-matching-clothes requests …. I’m not sure if the matching Easter outfits, or the matching PJ’s at Christmas will be the first to go, but I’m not ready to give up either just yet, let me tell you.
Wait. What was my point again?
Oh, yeah, ebay. I’m not any kind of power ebay seller, like my girlfriend Renee, who has dozens of items going online at any given time. I only sell two or three times a year, and I just sell clothes that don’t fit my kids any more, but are still in good shape. I don’t make hundreds of dollars …. Heck, sometimes I don’t even make enough to cover the ebay fees and postage and I wind up LOSING money, prompting me to wonder why didn’t I just take it to Goodwill to begin with??? But it’s fun to track the items and if I’m lucky, I make a little bit of money, at least enough to pay for the gas to drive the bags to the post office. I really should check into that postal delivery from home option.
So I called Renee this week, the Queen of All Things Ebay, and asked her opinion: “Hey, I’ve got several sets of matching outfits that the kids wore for Easter the past few years. I think it might bring more attention to the sale if I put a photo of the kids in their matching outfits up on the site …. What do you think? Is that a security issue? Pictures of my kids just floating around on the internet?? Am I risking their safety in the hopes of making a few measly dollars?” But, she reminded me that I’ve been putting their pictures up on this Caringbridge site for over two years now and have never given it a second thought, have gone public with the dates our family is gone on vacation, dates we’re going to be certain places ….. yeah, good point. So up the pictures went, notions of security by the wayside.
Two days later, I got an e-mail from ebay that someone had a question about one of my sale items. “Good!” I thought, “at least someone is checking out my stuff.” It’s depressing to put items up on ebay, pay the insertion fees, and have not one single person bid on it. Like the universe is sending me the message, “Hey, lady, we don’t want your crap.” So when someone sends a message, usually a question about an outfit, or combining shipping charges if they buy more than one thing, I take it as a good sign. At least someone is *considering* my crap.
I opened the message, only to have the text of the message read: “Oh my gosh! I follow your daughter’s story on Caringbridge!!”
Now, how funny is that? She must have recognized the photo of Brayden, Kellen and Kendrie that I had previously on this site, the same photo that I had just put up on ebay in an attempt to sell the clothes ….. that cracks me up. Maybe that’s a great way to increase my ebay sales …. Try to coax all of you CB readers to go to ebay and check out the sale items listed under kristieokc, my ebay name. You should go there just to see what Kendrie looked liked before diagnosis, when she really had hair. Or, I could end every ebay auction with a web link to this Caringbridge site, and try to bring two of my worlds even closer.
What’s even more interesting is that this is the second time something like that has happened. The first time I was selling a bunch of outfits with matching hats, purchased during Kendrie’s Bald Phase #1, and the lady who bought them told me how happy she was to have found them because she was trying to adopt a little girl with leukemia ….. so I wound up introducing her to my online support group. Again, I’m telling you, it’s a small world.
Anyway, I just found that pretty coincidental. It’s not like I have millions of people reading this site, or that there can possibly be millions of people scouring ebay for matching brother/sister Easter outfits. And yet one person managed to find me on both. Small world, don’t you think?
One more thing before I sign off ---- I hope you guys have been following Keegan’s site the past few weeks as he has begun his relapse protocol. He’s having a rough go of it lately with some ara-c fevers and unplanned ER visits and I’m sure he could use the support from all of you. And in extremely depressing news, an adorable little girl named Hunter on our list serve found out this week that she has also relapsed. What makes Hunter’s relapse even more insulting is that she just finished treatment in February, and had gone in this week to have her port removed, and to get one final “all-clear” spinal, only to have the spinal show leukemia cells in her CNS. Thankfully Hunter’s bone marrow was clear … small consolation for a child who finished two plus years of chemo, only to have to start all over again. Please take a moment to go to Hunter’s site and give her some words of encouragement as she faces this newest battle.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
IT’S A BEAUTIFUL DAY
AKA WHAT A DIFFERENCE A GOOD NIGHT’S SLEEP MAKES!
Kendrie -- day 97 OT
Blaine -- countdown to radiation
I have a confession to make: I have a new, favorite device for the bedroom. In fact, I have TWO --- one for each hand! Woo-hoo!!! Now, before your minds go crashing any further down in the gutter, let me back up:
There is nothing as ugly on this planet …. not even a fat man in a Speedo …. As ME, when I am sleep-deprived. And I don’t mean physically ugly, despite the crazy hair and bags under my eyes. I mean ugly as in grumpy, crabby, mean. No patience, no humor, no interest in anything that doesn’t involve ME and a NAP.
So when I came home from my scrapbooking getaway this weekend, slightly sleep-deprived because my girlfriends forced me at gunpoint to stay up late, gossiping and eating chocolate every night, Blaine recognized the (not too bad at this point, but it was coming) Ugly-Face and quickly recommended I go to bed early and he would put the kids to bed … even though he was feeling a wee bit “off”, himself. Not one to turn down a suggestion like that, off to bed I went, with visions of me, sleeping soundly through the night in my OWN bed, dancing before my eyes.
Now, I have to tell you that in addition to the fat, swollen feet, I have also become the proud owner of fat, chubby hands the past few weeks. Hands that no longer can accommodate a wedding ring … OR an anniversary band. Or even a watch because my wrists are so … well, shall we say, pleasantly plump. So, when you have big-fat-pregnancy-hands that can’t be held at higher than a 5-degree angle without going all numb and tingly, sleeping becomes an issue. And never more so than Sunday night.
I woke up, no lie, at least once every half hour with aches and pain and tingling and numbness in my wrists and fingers. Miserable, I tell you. First I would flap my hands about, like a demented bird with broken wings, trying to get blood flow resumed. Then I would have to sit straight up, hands hanging down my sides, for ten to fifteen minutes each time to finally get the blood flowing again. Then I would lay back down, only to wake again half an hour later. Finally I tried sleeping sitting up in a chair in the living room, only to realize how far it was to the bathroom (since I’m now getting up a dozen times each night to use the potty, too.) It was the most pathetic night of constantly interrupted sleep I have ever had, and that INCLUDES when I was breastfeeding my children so many years ago!
Add in to the mix a 9-yr old daughter who came stumbling into our room around 1am, complaining that she was itchy. Ah, yes, here comes my Mother of the Year Trophy now. I bought the kids St. Patrick’s Day tattoos last week (because I am *SO* cool, right?) and she had some kind of allergic reaction to the soap we used to wash off her face and forearms, hence the complaining and the itching and the HIVES all over her.
By the next morning, I’d had a total of about 23 minutes sleep. I had one daughter who was covered in red, itchy welts, and a husband who, like it’s not enough recovering from major surgery and oh, yeah, having CANCER, had decided to catch whatever stomach bug it is going around. I swear, he didn’t get out of bed all day except to steal some of Kendrie’s zofran, then throw it up four minutes later.
So I’m stomping around the house on my fat, puffy feet, grumbling about “who do you people think I am? Florence-freaking-Nightingale?” and gazing longingly at the sofa …. it was overcast and raining, NONE of the anti-itch creams I had were working on Brayden, she was bitching, Blaine was moaning, and all I wanted was a NAP people, a NAP, IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK????
Anyway, we made it through the day, and on the recommendation of a friend, I went to the drugstore last night and bought wrist splints, specifically advertised as “good for carpal tunnel sufferers”. I mean, it’s not like I earn a living splitting chicken bones or anything, and I have to tell you how ugly they are --- they make me look like the really serious guys at the bowling alley, know who I’m talking about? But I was desperate for sleep and willing to try anything.
Oh, my gosh! They totally worked!!! I slept great last night! (Well, I still got up a dozen times to go potty, but that’s another story.) No numbness, no tingling, no aches or pains --- it was fantastic! I woke up with a completely different attitude; refreshed, happy, eager to embrace my beautiful children and start the new day (ok, I know, I’m exaggerating now.) But you get the point.
Blaine feels better, Brayden has been properly treated by a doctor (the hives have spread and she now looks like a “before” picture on a Proactive infomercial -- but I think we've got a handle on it now) and the sun came back out today. Wow, what a difference a good night’s sleep can make!
Now, just crossing my fingers I sleep as well this evening. Actually, no, I’m not going to cross my fingers. They might start to tingle.
***************************************************
QUOTE OF THE DAY: When the doctor told Brayden she would be starting a five-day course of prednisone, I said to her, “Hey, you’re going to be on the same steroids Kendrie was on” and Brayden replied, “Oh, great. Now I’m going to get grumpy.”
2ND QUOTE OF THE DAY: “Holy Crap, are you KIDDING me????” said by me, when Brayden announced she was too big for the kids’ menu and asked if she could order off the regular menu at lunch today, only to tell the waiter that she wanted the steak and shrimp combo, costing $14. I don’t know which was worse … that I felt so sorry for her little hive-covered face that I let her order it, or the fact she actually ate most of it!!! Um, did my children not get the memo I sent, about them staying kids a whole lot longer?!?!?!
Kendrie -- day 97 OT
Blaine -- countdown to radiation
I have a confession to make: I have a new, favorite device for the bedroom. In fact, I have TWO --- one for each hand! Woo-hoo!!! Now, before your minds go crashing any further down in the gutter, let me back up:
There is nothing as ugly on this planet …. not even a fat man in a Speedo …. As ME, when I am sleep-deprived. And I don’t mean physically ugly, despite the crazy hair and bags under my eyes. I mean ugly as in grumpy, crabby, mean. No patience, no humor, no interest in anything that doesn’t involve ME and a NAP.
So when I came home from my scrapbooking getaway this weekend, slightly sleep-deprived because my girlfriends forced me at gunpoint to stay up late, gossiping and eating chocolate every night, Blaine recognized the (not too bad at this point, but it was coming) Ugly-Face and quickly recommended I go to bed early and he would put the kids to bed … even though he was feeling a wee bit “off”, himself. Not one to turn down a suggestion like that, off to bed I went, with visions of me, sleeping soundly through the night in my OWN bed, dancing before my eyes.
Now, I have to tell you that in addition to the fat, swollen feet, I have also become the proud owner of fat, chubby hands the past few weeks. Hands that no longer can accommodate a wedding ring … OR an anniversary band. Or even a watch because my wrists are so … well, shall we say, pleasantly plump. So, when you have big-fat-pregnancy-hands that can’t be held at higher than a 5-degree angle without going all numb and tingly, sleeping becomes an issue. And never more so than Sunday night.
I woke up, no lie, at least once every half hour with aches and pain and tingling and numbness in my wrists and fingers. Miserable, I tell you. First I would flap my hands about, like a demented bird with broken wings, trying to get blood flow resumed. Then I would have to sit straight up, hands hanging down my sides, for ten to fifteen minutes each time to finally get the blood flowing again. Then I would lay back down, only to wake again half an hour later. Finally I tried sleeping sitting up in a chair in the living room, only to realize how far it was to the bathroom (since I’m now getting up a dozen times each night to use the potty, too.) It was the most pathetic night of constantly interrupted sleep I have ever had, and that INCLUDES when I was breastfeeding my children so many years ago!
Add in to the mix a 9-yr old daughter who came stumbling into our room around 1am, complaining that she was itchy. Ah, yes, here comes my Mother of the Year Trophy now. I bought the kids St. Patrick’s Day tattoos last week (because I am *SO* cool, right?) and she had some kind of allergic reaction to the soap we used to wash off her face and forearms, hence the complaining and the itching and the HIVES all over her.
By the next morning, I’d had a total of about 23 minutes sleep. I had one daughter who was covered in red, itchy welts, and a husband who, like it’s not enough recovering from major surgery and oh, yeah, having CANCER, had decided to catch whatever stomach bug it is going around. I swear, he didn’t get out of bed all day except to steal some of Kendrie’s zofran, then throw it up four minutes later.
So I’m stomping around the house on my fat, puffy feet, grumbling about “who do you people think I am? Florence-freaking-Nightingale?” and gazing longingly at the sofa …. it was overcast and raining, NONE of the anti-itch creams I had were working on Brayden, she was bitching, Blaine was moaning, and all I wanted was a NAP people, a NAP, IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK????
Anyway, we made it through the day, and on the recommendation of a friend, I went to the drugstore last night and bought wrist splints, specifically advertised as “good for carpal tunnel sufferers”. I mean, it’s not like I earn a living splitting chicken bones or anything, and I have to tell you how ugly they are --- they make me look like the really serious guys at the bowling alley, know who I’m talking about? But I was desperate for sleep and willing to try anything.
Oh, my gosh! They totally worked!!! I slept great last night! (Well, I still got up a dozen times to go potty, but that’s another story.) No numbness, no tingling, no aches or pains --- it was fantastic! I woke up with a completely different attitude; refreshed, happy, eager to embrace my beautiful children and start the new day (ok, I know, I’m exaggerating now.) But you get the point.
Blaine feels better, Brayden has been properly treated by a doctor (the hives have spread and she now looks like a “before” picture on a Proactive infomercial -- but I think we've got a handle on it now) and the sun came back out today. Wow, what a difference a good night’s sleep can make!
Now, just crossing my fingers I sleep as well this evening. Actually, no, I’m not going to cross my fingers. They might start to tingle.
***************************************************
QUOTE OF THE DAY: When the doctor told Brayden she would be starting a five-day course of prednisone, I said to her, “Hey, you’re going to be on the same steroids Kendrie was on” and Brayden replied, “Oh, great. Now I’m going to get grumpy.”
2ND QUOTE OF THE DAY: “Holy Crap, are you KIDDING me????” said by me, when Brayden announced she was too big for the kids’ menu and asked if she could order off the regular menu at lunch today, only to tell the waiter that she wanted the steak and shrimp combo, costing $14. I don’t know which was worse … that I felt so sorry for her little hive-covered face that I let her order it, or the fact she actually ate most of it!!! Um, did my children not get the memo I sent, about them staying kids a whole lot longer?!?!?!
Thursday, March 16, 2006
A few issues I think I should clear up, in good conscience:
I’m not advocating the use of tanning beds, especially for those people with a history of skin problems. I am also very aware of the dangers even *fake* UV rays pose, and you can bet that when my children go outside in the summer, they are lathered up like greased piglets at the County Fair. But I have to admit that I grew up in the “Bronze is Best” era, when there was no such thing as “too tan” (or too much blue eye shadow), when baby oil and iodine were the order of the day at the city pool. I have perhaps been brainwashed a bit by the Coppertone Cult, and am biased into thinking people (especially ME) look a little better with some color on their cheeks. Like the person in the guestbook said, “tanned cellulite is better looking than white cellulite”. That’s practically my personal motto. That, and “pass the Cheetos”. I don’t smoke (too unhealthy), don’t use chewing tobacco (nasty), don’t drink coffee (if only it tasted as good as it smells), drink de-caffeinated pop (even though some days I could really use the caffeine), rarely drink alcohol (can’t handle the hangovers) …. Tanning beds are my one vice, and I can’t even do *that* when I’m pregnant!
Speaking of pregnant, while I appreciate the vote of confidence that I aminsane competent enough to handle a fourth child …….. I think most of you have figured out from the guestbook entries that I am actually a gestational surrogate. I did mention it {briefly} on this site in my Christmas Letter, but for the most part don’t talk about it online out of respect for the privacy of the baby’s parents. So, to answer a few questions: YES, I just love being pregnant. YES, Blaine and I struggled with infertility so we know how they feel, and one of the reasons I got into this. NO, it’s not hard to do. NO, I am not biologically related to the child. YES, it’s a very open process. YES, I stay in touch with the families afterwards. YES, this is my third time. I delivered a baby girl in 2002. I was pregnant with twin boys in 2003 when Blaine was first diagnosed with cancer. Six weeks after I delivered the twins is when Kendrie got sick. Ironically, although I knew I wanted to do another surrogacy, I waited until she was almost done with treatment so I could have a stress-less, cancer-FREE experience. ---- I can pretty much hear the Gods of Fate and Crappy Timing laughing now.
And one last thing --- how funny that so many of you mentioned you have gotten your first pedicure of the summer, coincidentally, after reading my last posting. Guestbook entries and personal e-mails show both sides of the issue pretty much neck and neck, with half of you professing your love for sandals and bare toes, and the other half agreeing with me that feet are an ugly necessity of life. (I especially loved the guestbook comment about the wife, threatening to bury her husband in sandals, which he hates, and him saying he will put his funeral attire in writing!) Blaine and I were talking about Fear Factor today, and he said his biggest fear on that show would be being buried alive …. I said mine would be a day at the spa, complete with massage and pedicure.
So to those of you who enjoy that sort of thing, more power to you. The rest of us will hang on to our tennis shoes just as long as we possibly can.
Hope you all have a great weekend, (I’m headed out of town to scrapbook!)
Kristie, confessing, I even wear socks to bed.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
(One last story about pregnancy, and feet, then I swear I will drop both these topics and quit subjecting you to my unsolicited opinions) I wasn’t joking when I said my feet were getting swollen, an end-of-pregnancy symptom many of us enjoy. I was getting dressed this morning, putting on my one-size-larger-than normal-white-leather-Keds because that’s the only pair that will fit at this point, and Kendrie said, “You’re going to wear *those*?” (disdain evident in her voice) …. “but Mom, they are SO not cool!”
Great. Now I’m taking fashion advice from someone who thinks “camouflage” is the new black, and the only designer name worth wearing is “Universal Studios”.
Speaking of pregnant, while I appreciate the vote of confidence that I am
And one last thing --- how funny that so many of you mentioned you have gotten your first pedicure of the summer, coincidentally, after reading my last posting. Guestbook entries and personal e-mails show both sides of the issue pretty much neck and neck, with half of you professing your love for sandals and bare toes, and the other half agreeing with me that feet are an ugly necessity of life. (I especially loved the guestbook comment about the wife, threatening to bury her husband in sandals, which he hates, and him saying he will put his funeral attire in writing!) Blaine and I were talking about Fear Factor today, and he said his biggest fear on that show would be being buried alive …. I said mine would be a day at the spa, complete with massage and pedicure.
So to those of you who enjoy that sort of thing, more power to you. The rest of us will hang on to our tennis shoes just as long as we possibly can.
Hope you all have a great weekend, (I’m headed out of town to scrapbook!)
Kristie, confessing, I even wear socks to bed.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
(One last story about pregnancy, and feet, then I swear I will drop both these topics and quit subjecting you to my unsolicited opinions) I wasn’t joking when I said my feet were getting swollen, an end-of-pregnancy symptom many of us enjoy. I was getting dressed this morning, putting on my one-size-larger-than normal-white-leather-Keds because that’s the only pair that will fit at this point, and Kendrie said, “You’re going to wear *those*?” (disdain evident in her voice) …. “but Mom, they are SO not cool!”
Great. Now I’m taking fashion advice from someone who thinks “camouflage” is the new black, and the only designer name worth wearing is “Universal Studios”.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
SUMMER IS A’COMING (AND SOME PRETTY HORRIFYING THINGS ALONG WITH IT)
Kendrie--Day 89 OT
Blaine--Who the heck knows how to classify him?
Yep, summer is definitely coming to Georgia. Or at least to the part where WE live, as evidenced by the outdoor-thermostat earlier this week, reading in the high 70’s, the sheen of perspiration on my upper lip (and lower lip, and forehead, and cheeks, etc) and the returning humidity which has my hair looking like something out of a Carrot Top infomercial. I was out running errands yesterday, and noticed a few things that can only correlate with the advent of the warmer weather:
1. God invented tanning booths for a reason, people. If you feel its warm enough to yank those short-shorts out of the back of your closet and put them on with a sleeveless tank top, please do the rest of us a favor and make sure your legs and arms don’t BLIND us when we encounter you in Target. I swear, I thought a few of you must be albinos, only to discover that was your natural pigment color. Now, I know the whole stink about tanning booths, and sun tanning in general, causing cancer, and wrinkles, and faces that will look like leather when you’re older --- and how it’s now “cool” to be “pale”. Well let me tell you, that only works if you have a beautiful ivory-white complexion like Nicole Kidman. The rest of you are PASTY, people, and you need to do something about it! Spray it on, rub it on, I don’t care, but get it on there. My sunglasses only have so much UV protection.
2. The feet. Oh, my GOD people, the FEET!!! Now, if you’ve been following along in this journal at all, you know I have a wee, tiny hang up about feet. Mainly, that I hate them and think they are disgusting, hideous appendages. If they weren’t so necessary for walking and running and total mobility, I would spearhead a “Get Rid of the Feet” campaign. But alas, I cannot. So, if you have them (and most of you do, after all) and you decide its warm enough to also pull sandals out of the back of your closet, then do something about the feet. Loofah sponge, pumice stone, emery board, pedicure, etc. I don’t care which method you choose, just do something.
Now, you should also know that the only thing more horrifying to me than a massage would be a pedicure, so this is a case where I'm definitely NOT practicing what I preach. But I’m not the one wearing sandals, now, am I? (And never mind that it’s because I’m 30 weeks pregnant and they don’t MAKE sandals big enough to fit over my puffy, swollen, bloated extremities) If I *were* wearing sandals, I would at least make sure my haven’t-seen-the-sun-in-six-months feet were fit for public display, puffiness notwithstanding.
Oh, and if you’re a man and you’re reading this? There is no reason, ever, for you to wear sandals. E. V. E. R. Not thongs, not flip-flops, not any kind of sandal. Really, they should be outlawed for men. The only exception to the rule is if you are walking to or from the pool or ocean. The rest of the summer time, if you are out in public, you should wear tennis shoes WITH socks. And if you’re hanging out at MY house, you may take off your shoes ONLY if you have socks on. Go with me on this one --- NO sandals for men. Your feet are uglier than mine, and trust me, no-one wants to see them.
3. Last but not least, have some sympathy for the middle-aged lady, driving the mini-van with the juice box straw wrappers in her seat, the soccer chairs in the back, and the local elementary school magnet on the door. In high school, I had a boyfriend that drove a Mercury Cougar with a (excuse my French) KICK ASS stereo system. When the weather got nice, like it is now, we would fill up the gas tank (remember when $10.00 could do that?) and drive around with the windows down, sun streaming in on us, wind in our hair, and Quiet Riot blaring. I always thought, judging from the looks we got, that older people hated us. Now, being old myself, I know the truth. They were just jealous. Much like I am jealous now. I have no sunroof. I have no loud stereo. I drive a MINI VAN, for heaven’s sake, usually with a Disney or Sugarbeats cd playing. So although summer is coming, and you are reveling in the glory of your youth, please understand that I am mourning the loss of mine, and it’s just a little bit painful. Have some respect.
So anyway, how does any of this relate -- in any way -- to Kendrie? Well, in the last month, despite the fact her treatment is over and she’s no longer taking chemo, she has stayed home from school several times complaining of stomach pain or headache. Do I think she’s sick? No. I think she wants to stay home with the grownups. She did it again yesterday, and in an attempt to foil her plans to lay around all day watching Star Wars on the dvd player, I made her stay in bed. All day long. I figured in the event she *was* really sick, the rest would do her good. In the event she was faking, at least I wouldn’t play the role of enabler.
Fast forward to 3:30 pm yesterday afternoon: Since the weather has gotten nicer, we’ve ditched our usual “home work as soon as you get home from school” routine in favor of a more direct, “let the kids play outside until they are ready to drop from exhaustion” strategy. Works wonders at bedtime. Yesterday, Brayden and Kellen hadn’t been home five minutes before the bikes and scooters and basketballs were in full play. Kendrie ran into the garage and started strapping on her roller blades, only to have me come out and tell her no, if she was too sick to go to school, she was too sick to play outside. (Geez, when did I start sounding like my mother?)
Oh, the tears and whining and crying and tantrum that took place! Seriously, she cried for close to an hour, leaving me to believe she couldn’t truly be ill, or she wouldn’t have had the stamina and energy necessary for that kind of fit. In the middle of it, she yelled at me, “Well if I had known you were going to let them play outside, I would have gone to school!” to which I replied, “Well, that was a bad gamble on your part, wasn’t it?” to which SHE replied, “Well, I thought it was going to RAIN and it wouldn’t matter!”
So apparently I am not the only one upset by the sun-shiny weather lately. Miraculously, Kendrie felt well enough to attend school today, and is outside roller-blading as I type this. Maybe she’ll decide the nice weather isn’t so offensive, after all. But I’m telling you, blinding white legs and nasty feet will ALWAYS be offensive.
Blaine--Who the heck knows how to classify him?
Yep, summer is definitely coming to Georgia. Or at least to the part where WE live, as evidenced by the outdoor-thermostat earlier this week, reading in the high 70’s, the sheen of perspiration on my upper lip (and lower lip, and forehead, and cheeks, etc) and the returning humidity which has my hair looking like something out of a Carrot Top infomercial. I was out running errands yesterday, and noticed a few things that can only correlate with the advent of the warmer weather:
1. God invented tanning booths for a reason, people. If you feel its warm enough to yank those short-shorts out of the back of your closet and put them on with a sleeveless tank top, please do the rest of us a favor and make sure your legs and arms don’t BLIND us when we encounter you in Target. I swear, I thought a few of you must be albinos, only to discover that was your natural pigment color. Now, I know the whole stink about tanning booths, and sun tanning in general, causing cancer, and wrinkles, and faces that will look like leather when you’re older --- and how it’s now “cool” to be “pale”. Well let me tell you, that only works if you have a beautiful ivory-white complexion like Nicole Kidman. The rest of you are PASTY, people, and you need to do something about it! Spray it on, rub it on, I don’t care, but get it on there. My sunglasses only have so much UV protection.
2. The feet. Oh, my GOD people, the FEET!!! Now, if you’ve been following along in this journal at all, you know I have a wee, tiny hang up about feet. Mainly, that I hate them and think they are disgusting, hideous appendages. If they weren’t so necessary for walking and running and total mobility, I would spearhead a “Get Rid of the Feet” campaign. But alas, I cannot. So, if you have them (and most of you do, after all) and you decide its warm enough to also pull sandals out of the back of your closet, then do something about the feet. Loofah sponge, pumice stone, emery board, pedicure, etc. I don’t care which method you choose, just do something.
Now, you should also know that the only thing more horrifying to me than a massage would be a pedicure, so this is a case where I'm definitely NOT practicing what I preach. But I’m not the one wearing sandals, now, am I? (And never mind that it’s because I’m 30 weeks pregnant and they don’t MAKE sandals big enough to fit over my puffy, swollen, bloated extremities) If I *were* wearing sandals, I would at least make sure my haven’t-seen-the-sun-in-six-months feet were fit for public display, puffiness notwithstanding.
Oh, and if you’re a man and you’re reading this? There is no reason, ever, for you to wear sandals. E. V. E. R. Not thongs, not flip-flops, not any kind of sandal. Really, they should be outlawed for men. The only exception to the rule is if you are walking to or from the pool or ocean. The rest of the summer time, if you are out in public, you should wear tennis shoes WITH socks. And if you’re hanging out at MY house, you may take off your shoes ONLY if you have socks on. Go with me on this one --- NO sandals for men. Your feet are uglier than mine, and trust me, no-one wants to see them.
3. Last but not least, have some sympathy for the middle-aged lady, driving the mini-van with the juice box straw wrappers in her seat, the soccer chairs in the back, and the local elementary school magnet on the door. In high school, I had a boyfriend that drove a Mercury Cougar with a (excuse my French) KICK ASS stereo system. When the weather got nice, like it is now, we would fill up the gas tank (remember when $10.00 could do that?) and drive around with the windows down, sun streaming in on us, wind in our hair, and Quiet Riot blaring. I always thought, judging from the looks we got, that older people hated us. Now, being old myself, I know the truth. They were just jealous. Much like I am jealous now. I have no sunroof. I have no loud stereo. I drive a MINI VAN, for heaven’s sake, usually with a Disney or Sugarbeats cd playing. So although summer is coming, and you are reveling in the glory of your youth, please understand that I am mourning the loss of mine, and it’s just a little bit painful. Have some respect.
So anyway, how does any of this relate -- in any way -- to Kendrie? Well, in the last month, despite the fact her treatment is over and she’s no longer taking chemo, she has stayed home from school several times complaining of stomach pain or headache. Do I think she’s sick? No. I think she wants to stay home with the grownups. She did it again yesterday, and in an attempt to foil her plans to lay around all day watching Star Wars on the dvd player, I made her stay in bed. All day long. I figured in the event she *was* really sick, the rest would do her good. In the event she was faking, at least I wouldn’t play the role of enabler.
Fast forward to 3:30 pm yesterday afternoon: Since the weather has gotten nicer, we’ve ditched our usual “home work as soon as you get home from school” routine in favor of a more direct, “let the kids play outside until they are ready to drop from exhaustion” strategy. Works wonders at bedtime. Yesterday, Brayden and Kellen hadn’t been home five minutes before the bikes and scooters and basketballs were in full play. Kendrie ran into the garage and started strapping on her roller blades, only to have me come out and tell her no, if she was too sick to go to school, she was too sick to play outside. (Geez, when did I start sounding like my mother?)
Oh, the tears and whining and crying and tantrum that took place! Seriously, she cried for close to an hour, leaving me to believe she couldn’t truly be ill, or she wouldn’t have had the stamina and energy necessary for that kind of fit. In the middle of it, she yelled at me, “Well if I had known you were going to let them play outside, I would have gone to school!” to which I replied, “Well, that was a bad gamble on your part, wasn’t it?” to which SHE replied, “Well, I thought it was going to RAIN and it wouldn’t matter!”
So apparently I am not the only one upset by the sun-shiny weather lately. Miraculously, Kendrie felt well enough to attend school today, and is outside roller-blading as I type this. Maybe she’ll decide the nice weather isn’t so offensive, after all. But I’m telling you, blinding white legs and nasty feet will ALWAYS be offensive.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
THE ABC’S OF MENTAL INSTABILITY
Day 86 of Kendrie’s OT
Yes, I confess, I’m still feeling a little mentally unstable this week.
Still? THIS week??? How does *this* week differ from any other time of my life, when mental instability is the norm? Well, now, I have this journal and you lucky people get to hear about it --- something you’re thrilled about, I’m sure. So, let’s just get started, with Kristie’s Tour of Unstable Emotions:
A is for Annoyed: Yes, I admit it, I am just plain annoyed. Annoyed at cancer, annoyed that we’re facing it again, annoyed that we haven’t really had a break from facing it for the past three years. First Blaine, then Kendrie, now Blaine again. In a small, demented way, I'm even annoyed with Blaine, as if any of this is his fault, something I'm sure we'll need marital therapy for when this is all over. Just annoyed, annoyed, annoyed (not to be confused with “annoying”, which is the adjective some of you might consider more appropriate!)
B is for Blessed: OK, so we’ve been beat with the cancer stick twice. But we’re blessed because Kendrie’s cancer came with an 85 percent chance for survival, she handled treatment like a champ, and Blaine’s cancer is a slow-growing, not-too-aggressive kind. You hear about people like my great aunt, who was diagnosed with leukemia two weeks ago and died seven days later. We are blessed we’ve been handed a chance. Twice.
C is for comforted: Comforted by the kind e-mails, notes, cards, meals, phone calls, etc, that people have been thoughtful enough to send.
D is for discouraged: Is it ever going to freakin’ end???
E is for embarrassed: Embarrassed that my emotions are all over the place. But I suppose it’s normal in a situation like this. So really, why should I feel embarrassed? I mean, it’s not like I don’t have cause to feel emotional. So why is it embarrassing for me? Because I am a schizoid-freak, that’s why. It’s so embarrassing.
F is for frustrated: I don’t know who to turn to, which doctor is in charge, who is making decisions, who has the answers, or of whom I should be asking them. Blaine has a Primary-Care Manager here at Robins Air Force Base, who is consulting the medical board here. His first surgeon, in Augusta, is recommending we go to Seattle. The Seattle doctor has referred us to his tumor board, who is recommending five weeks of radiation. In addition to surgery? In place of surgery? What about the chemo they talked about? The Air Force is recommending we go to Walter Reed. Who is the doctor at Walter Reed? What would they do there? What is the best treatment for Blaine? Who decides? Do we have any say in the matter? Who’s the boss? ‘Cause it sure as heck ain’t Tony Danza, I don’t think.
G is for grateful: (See F) At least we have options, and doctors who care about Blaine enough to try and make the best decisions on his behalf. I am grateful that they all want to do what is best for him, and help him. {Reminder to self: beat head against the wall to the tune of “grateful, grateful, grateful” when I start feeling frustrated.}
H is for hopeful: I have to tell myself that even though this has been dragging on, and he's already had eleven surgeries in the past three years, at some point we are going to look back at this as nothing more than a bad period in our lives. I am hopeful we will eventually return to a semblance of normal, that Blaine will feel healthy and happy again, and that cancer will be simply a blip in the rear view mirror of our life. Then we’ll win the lottery, and things will be especially dandy. {Note to self: need to actually PLAY lottery.}
I is for impatient: For Pete’s sake, can these doctors not just get together in a phone consult or something and make a decision already? How can we make plans, if we don’t know what THE PLAN is???
J is for jealous: Jealous of families whose biggest problem is whether little Timmy should play soccer or t-ball this spring. Jealous of families who aren’t putting their spring, summer and fall plans on hold because they have no idea where they might be, or at what phase of treatment. Jealous of military officers whose careers haven’t been derailed by cancer. Jealous of families whose children DON’T think it’s normal for everyone to get cancer.
K is for keeping a stiff upper lip: Hey, I didn’t say that’s what I’ve been DOING, I said that’s what I’ve been feeling I should do. I am not succeeding, as evidenced by the (yet another) self-absorbed, depressing post that you’re reading now.
L is for lucky: We are lucky that our military insurance has been so wonderful (knocking furiously on wood) and that we are not in financial ruin from all this crap. Sucks for all you taxpayers, but lucky for us.
M is for mad: Just how, exactly, is this fair? Just when, exactly, will it be over? (Oh, that's right, "fair" and "cancer" have no correlation, as millions of people all over the world can attest. Do they all feel as mad as I do?)
N is for nervous: This doctor said the radiation they are recommending has a 60 percent success rate. Um, what happens to the other 40 percent? What does that MEAN, exactly? And who do I ask?
O is for offended: I feel like cancer is sitting back, sticking its tongue out at our family, and quite frankly, I’m pretty damn offended.
P is for peeved: See A.
Q is for quiet: Sometimes, a little pouting is in order. Not publicly, but quietly. Preferably with lots of chocolate.
R is for resentful: See J.
S is for self-conscious: I mean, could we BE bigger shit magnets if we tried?
T is for thankful: Kendrie had an oncology follow-up appointment on Thursday. Despite the six-inch bruise on her shin, her blood counts were perfectly normal. I’m beyond thankful she is doing so well. She’s grown an inch since she finished treatment! How can I whine like I’m doing now, when my daughter is thriving off treatment so far?
U is for uptight: Three years ago, when Blaine was first diagnosed, if you had told me we would be in this situation today, I would have rolled my eyes and thought it impossible. Now, I get all clenched wondering where we’ll be three years from now.
V is for vexed: Could just one stinkin’ thing go right for the guy? You know the surgery he had two weeks ago? Well not only could they not remove all the tumors, or do the reconstruction they had planned, but the incision they made through his upper lip is a disaster. When they removed the stitches, his lip literally split. A big chunk is missing, and its forked, for lack of a better description. So, add another surgery to the litany of things he still needs done.
W is for worried: Imagine where my mind goes in the deepest, darkest parts of the night.
X is for xtremely (spelled wrong) self-absorbed: It’s not so much that I’ve *felt* self-absorbed, as I have been, and I feel guilty for it. I’m not answering e-mails, I’m having trouble returning phone calls, I’m not posting messages in Caringbridge guestbooks. I just can’t seem to move past myself lately, and let me tell you: MYSELF is boring me to tears, what with all her whining and complaining and bitching and moaning.
Y is for yellow-bellied: I want to crawl in a hole, hide my head, and have someone wake me when it’s all over.
Z is for zealous: I have been all over the internet, looking for support groups and information for Blaine’s kind of cancer and the treatment(s) they are proposing. It doesn’t exist. I have searched high and low, and have come up with nothing. Zealousness is only satisfactory if it pays off, let me tell you that. An empty-handed zealot is pretty worthless.
So there you go. If you’re considering sending me a straight jacket, I wear an XL.
In the meantime, thanks for putting up with us. Well, more specifically, with ME. I’m the obnoxious, self-centered one in the family who obviously needs a good kick in the pants. But here’s proof that despite the circumstances, life goes on as normal, in definite “Kristie-style”:
Kendrie and I met friends for lunch on Thursday after her clinic appointment. As soon as we sat down in the booth she needed to go to the restroom, so I got up and took her. Apparently, without realizing it, I returned to the table with a long string of toilet paper stuck to my boot. Yeah, that’s attractive. What makes the story even better is that when our meal was over and she said she needed to use the restroom (yet again), I got up to take her and noticed the toilet paper on my foot. I made a joke, laughed it off in front of our friends, and went back to the bathroom, only to discover there was a wrapper from a juice box straw stuck to my ass the whole time.
Really, could I be any classier?
Yes, I confess, I’m still feeling a little mentally unstable this week.
Still? THIS week??? How does *this* week differ from any other time of my life, when mental instability is the norm? Well, now, I have this journal and you lucky people get to hear about it --- something you’re thrilled about, I’m sure. So, let’s just get started, with Kristie’s Tour of Unstable Emotions:
A is for Annoyed: Yes, I admit it, I am just plain annoyed. Annoyed at cancer, annoyed that we’re facing it again, annoyed that we haven’t really had a break from facing it for the past three years. First Blaine, then Kendrie, now Blaine again. In a small, demented way, I'm even annoyed with Blaine, as if any of this is his fault, something I'm sure we'll need marital therapy for when this is all over. Just annoyed, annoyed, annoyed (not to be confused with “annoying”, which is the adjective some of you might consider more appropriate!)
B is for Blessed: OK, so we’ve been beat with the cancer stick twice. But we’re blessed because Kendrie’s cancer came with an 85 percent chance for survival, she handled treatment like a champ, and Blaine’s cancer is a slow-growing, not-too-aggressive kind. You hear about people like my great aunt, who was diagnosed with leukemia two weeks ago and died seven days later. We are blessed we’ve been handed a chance. Twice.
C is for comforted: Comforted by the kind e-mails, notes, cards, meals, phone calls, etc, that people have been thoughtful enough to send.
D is for discouraged: Is it ever going to freakin’ end???
E is for embarrassed: Embarrassed that my emotions are all over the place. But I suppose it’s normal in a situation like this. So really, why should I feel embarrassed? I mean, it’s not like I don’t have cause to feel emotional. So why is it embarrassing for me? Because I am a schizoid-freak, that’s why. It’s so embarrassing.
F is for frustrated: I don’t know who to turn to, which doctor is in charge, who is making decisions, who has the answers, or of whom I should be asking them. Blaine has a Primary-Care Manager here at Robins Air Force Base, who is consulting the medical board here. His first surgeon, in Augusta, is recommending we go to Seattle. The Seattle doctor has referred us to his tumor board, who is recommending five weeks of radiation. In addition to surgery? In place of surgery? What about the chemo they talked about? The Air Force is recommending we go to Walter Reed. Who is the doctor at Walter Reed? What would they do there? What is the best treatment for Blaine? Who decides? Do we have any say in the matter? Who’s the boss? ‘Cause it sure as heck ain’t Tony Danza, I don’t think.
G is for grateful: (See F) At least we have options, and doctors who care about Blaine enough to try and make the best decisions on his behalf. I am grateful that they all want to do what is best for him, and help him. {Reminder to self: beat head against the wall to the tune of “grateful, grateful, grateful” when I start feeling frustrated.}
H is for hopeful: I have to tell myself that even though this has been dragging on, and he's already had eleven surgeries in the past three years, at some point we are going to look back at this as nothing more than a bad period in our lives. I am hopeful we will eventually return to a semblance of normal, that Blaine will feel healthy and happy again, and that cancer will be simply a blip in the rear view mirror of our life. Then we’ll win the lottery, and things will be especially dandy. {Note to self: need to actually PLAY lottery.}
I is for impatient: For Pete’s sake, can these doctors not just get together in a phone consult or something and make a decision already? How can we make plans, if we don’t know what THE PLAN is???
J is for jealous: Jealous of families whose biggest problem is whether little Timmy should play soccer or t-ball this spring. Jealous of families who aren’t putting their spring, summer and fall plans on hold because they have no idea where they might be, or at what phase of treatment. Jealous of military officers whose careers haven’t been derailed by cancer. Jealous of families whose children DON’T think it’s normal for everyone to get cancer.
K is for keeping a stiff upper lip: Hey, I didn’t say that’s what I’ve been DOING, I said that’s what I’ve been feeling I should do. I am not succeeding, as evidenced by the (yet another) self-absorbed, depressing post that you’re reading now.
L is for lucky: We are lucky that our military insurance has been so wonderful (knocking furiously on wood) and that we are not in financial ruin from all this crap. Sucks for all you taxpayers, but lucky for us.
M is for mad: Just how, exactly, is this fair? Just when, exactly, will it be over? (Oh, that's right, "fair" and "cancer" have no correlation, as millions of people all over the world can attest. Do they all feel as mad as I do?)
N is for nervous: This doctor said the radiation they are recommending has a 60 percent success rate. Um, what happens to the other 40 percent? What does that MEAN, exactly? And who do I ask?
O is for offended: I feel like cancer is sitting back, sticking its tongue out at our family, and quite frankly, I’m pretty damn offended.
P is for peeved: See A.
Q is for quiet: Sometimes, a little pouting is in order. Not publicly, but quietly. Preferably with lots of chocolate.
R is for resentful: See J.
S is for self-conscious: I mean, could we BE bigger shit magnets if we tried?
T is for thankful: Kendrie had an oncology follow-up appointment on Thursday. Despite the six-inch bruise on her shin, her blood counts were perfectly normal. I’m beyond thankful she is doing so well. She’s grown an inch since she finished treatment! How can I whine like I’m doing now, when my daughter is thriving off treatment so far?
U is for uptight: Three years ago, when Blaine was first diagnosed, if you had told me we would be in this situation today, I would have rolled my eyes and thought it impossible. Now, I get all clenched wondering where we’ll be three years from now.
V is for vexed: Could just one stinkin’ thing go right for the guy? You know the surgery he had two weeks ago? Well not only could they not remove all the tumors, or do the reconstruction they had planned, but the incision they made through his upper lip is a disaster. When they removed the stitches, his lip literally split. A big chunk is missing, and its forked, for lack of a better description. So, add another surgery to the litany of things he still needs done.
W is for worried: Imagine where my mind goes in the deepest, darkest parts of the night.
X is for xtremely (spelled wrong) self-absorbed: It’s not so much that I’ve *felt* self-absorbed, as I have been, and I feel guilty for it. I’m not answering e-mails, I’m having trouble returning phone calls, I’m not posting messages in Caringbridge guestbooks. I just can’t seem to move past myself lately, and let me tell you: MYSELF is boring me to tears, what with all her whining and complaining and bitching and moaning.
Y is for yellow-bellied: I want to crawl in a hole, hide my head, and have someone wake me when it’s all over.
Z is for zealous: I have been all over the internet, looking for support groups and information for Blaine’s kind of cancer and the treatment(s) they are proposing. It doesn’t exist. I have searched high and low, and have come up with nothing. Zealousness is only satisfactory if it pays off, let me tell you that. An empty-handed zealot is pretty worthless.
So there you go. If you’re considering sending me a straight jacket, I wear an XL.
In the meantime, thanks for putting up with us. Well, more specifically, with ME. I’m the obnoxious, self-centered one in the family who obviously needs a good kick in the pants. But here’s proof that despite the circumstances, life goes on as normal, in definite “Kristie-style”:
Kendrie and I met friends for lunch on Thursday after her clinic appointment. As soon as we sat down in the booth she needed to go to the restroom, so I got up and took her. Apparently, without realizing it, I returned to the table with a long string of toilet paper stuck to my boot. Yeah, that’s attractive. What makes the story even better is that when our meal was over and she said she needed to use the restroom (yet again), I got up to take her and noticed the toilet paper on my foot. I made a joke, laughed it off in front of our friends, and went back to the bathroom, only to discover there was a wrapper from a juice box straw stuck to my ass the whole time.
Really, could I be any classier?
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
DUSTING OFF THE COBWEBS IN MY BRAIN …..
Day 83 OT
Well, I confess that I’ve sat in front of my computer the past two nights, trying to think of something -- anything -- funny or witty or even remotely interesting to post, and I’ve come up blank. If I were being honest, I would admit that I have a head cold and all I want to do is sleep. If I were being even more honest, I’d admit that I’m still licking my wounds a bit from last week and just don’t feel very entertaining at the moment.
We bought a new rug for the living room yesterday and it took less than half an hour for Kellen to drop a melted fudgesicle on it. I’m sure there’s a funny story in there somewhere, but I can’t find it. Just give me time …. I have no doubt that there’s a “and I thought that sort of thing only happened to ME” story just lurking on the horizon -- you know I’ll share it with you as soon as it does.
So, until we’re back up to our normal level of insaneness, I’m going to direct you to a few other sites that have cheerful news this week:
Katie from Canada, who finished her treatment for ALL this week! Katie’s was one of the first sites I found after I joined my online support group list, and I liked that her mom Sue had a similar take (to mine) on so many things that affect ALL-families. Congrats, Katie! Here’s to a lifetime of good health and happiness!
Molly from New York, who also finished her ALL treatment this week! I’ve actually been lucky enough to meet Molly and her family in person, which makes her completion of treatment even more special since I know what a wonderful family they are. Congratulations to all of you!
Keegan, one of our Georgia friends, who relapsed earlier this year …. But got the fantastic news yesterday that he is back in remission! His road is still long and hard, but this is the first, wonderful step towards beating this #(*&$#* disease once and for all. To Audra and Keegan and the entire family, may yesterday’s news be the first of nothing but good news for Keegan!
If you have an extra minute, drop by these sites and congratulate the families. It wasn’t so long ago that Kendrie finished treatment and it’s still fresh in my mind, the joy and happiness (and inexhaustible RELIEF) that they are feeling!
Saturday, March 04, 2006
WASN’T “LUCKY” A THREE-LEGGED DOG?
Well, we are home, safe and sound, and I don’t even have any good stories involving bus tires and medicine to share. His doctor simply checked him out with his duffle bag of narcotics, and home we drove. The dog appears to be completely healthy (well, as healthy as a 15-yr old dog can be) Grandma managed admirably, the kids didn’t pine away in our absence, and life will trudge on now in a normal fashion. We keep reminding ourselves that we’re lucky.
Yes, it stinks that Blaine’s cancer came back, but we’re lucky because pathology shows it is the same kind of cancer as before ….. slow growing and (normally) not too aggressive, so we don’t have to go into panic mode about our next step. The Army Hospital that has been treating him since Day One has been fabulous and we love his doctors there. But they admitted after this surgery that the location of (one of) the new tumors, within a centimeter (I think? Details have become foggy, along with everything else in my brain) of his carotid artery, that treatment now is beyond the scope of what they can offer with the services at their facility. Their recommendation is that Blaine needs a team of specialists (ie, head and neck vascular surgeon, radiation-oncology, etc) and those kind of people aren’t just hanging around the halls of defense-fund-depleted military hospitals.
So, once again, we consider ourselves lucky because Blaine already has a relationship with the doctor in Seattle who did his free-flap procedure last spring. He is one of the best head and neck oncologists in the country and works at a teaching hospital that offers all the services we might need. If they decide surgery is the best way to go, they can do it there. Radiation, chemo, etc., whatever the doctors determine is the best route.
We did talk to his Ft. Gordon doctors about getting a second opinion, and we all decided that Blaine already did his “shopping” for a doctor last year, when he traveled to Emery in Atlanta, and MD Anderson in Houston. And with the red tape that is involved with the insurance, he doesn’t want to take the time to doctor-shop again, when he has a surgeon in Washington that he already knows and trusts.
So, now we begin the process of getting insurance approval to travel and have things taken care of in Seattle (assuming the Seattle doctor agrees to take him …. Which I can’t imagine he wouldn’t ….) It’s already March, and what with the pre-authorizations, and consultations, and all that other rigmarole that goes along with it, we’ve got a June-July-ish timeframe in mind. So, chances are good Blaine and I will get a mini-vacation to the beautiful Seattle area this summer. (See? Do you see how lucky we are?) :)
We appreciate all the kind thoughts and sentiments the past week, and will keep you guys updated as things progress.
We also talked about the fact that although this wasn’t the outcome for which we had hoped, we are so grateful that complications arose in Blaine’s case, and not Kendrie’s. Kendrie’s cancer treatment was textbook, with hardly a complication or variance. Blaine’s treatment has been skewed from day one, with nothing turning out quite like we anticipate, and complications and delays dragging things out forever. I mean, it’s been three YEARS since his original diagnosis, and the reconstruction work isn’t even done yet. Partly that’s our fault, since we shoved his care to the back burner when Kendrie was diagnosed. And partly it’s the “two steps forward, one step back” philosophy that has plagued him from the beginning. Nothing has been easy, nothing has been simple, nothing has been straightforward. Wait, I'm getting away from my lucky theme here.
Anyway, this is getting depressing. My point is that even though this is discouraging, we are still blessed, and we won’t forget it.
So, on to more cheerful things. The kindergarten PTO performance was stellar, to be sure. While I don’t know that Kendrie necessarily has a future as a Radio City Rockette, I can say with absolute certainty that she was adorable as a jelly bean (although don’t you think it looks suspiciously like a lima bean?)
And yes, that is a dress you see her wearing. She wears one every Sunday to church, without complaint, but a few of her friends at school seemed shocked at the reminder that she actually IS a girl.
She didn’t collapse with shyness like I worried she might, and she got to stand next to the love of her life, Nicholas, for the show, so she was perfectly content.
We have Kellen’s end-of-season basketball party this afternoon, and otherwise we are laying low this weekend. Blaine is functioning, but doesn’t feel quite back to normal yet, so we will take things easy for a while. I think he has 30 days convalescent leave, most of which will be spent getting the ball rolling for his Seattle trip. And have no doubt, once he is feeling better, I’ll find some honey-do’s to work in there. :)
Yes, it stinks that Blaine’s cancer came back, but we’re lucky because pathology shows it is the same kind of cancer as before ….. slow growing and (normally) not too aggressive, so we don’t have to go into panic mode about our next step. The Army Hospital that has been treating him since Day One has been fabulous and we love his doctors there. But they admitted after this surgery that the location of (one of) the new tumors, within a centimeter (I think? Details have become foggy, along with everything else in my brain) of his carotid artery, that treatment now is beyond the scope of what they can offer with the services at their facility. Their recommendation is that Blaine needs a team of specialists (ie, head and neck vascular surgeon, radiation-oncology, etc) and those kind of people aren’t just hanging around the halls of defense-fund-depleted military hospitals.
So, once again, we consider ourselves lucky because Blaine already has a relationship with the doctor in Seattle who did his free-flap procedure last spring. He is one of the best head and neck oncologists in the country and works at a teaching hospital that offers all the services we might need. If they decide surgery is the best way to go, they can do it there. Radiation, chemo, etc., whatever the doctors determine is the best route.
We did talk to his Ft. Gordon doctors about getting a second opinion, and we all decided that Blaine already did his “shopping” for a doctor last year, when he traveled to Emery in Atlanta, and MD Anderson in Houston. And with the red tape that is involved with the insurance, he doesn’t want to take the time to doctor-shop again, when he has a surgeon in Washington that he already knows and trusts.
So, now we begin the process of getting insurance approval to travel and have things taken care of in Seattle (assuming the Seattle doctor agrees to take him …. Which I can’t imagine he wouldn’t ….) It’s already March, and what with the pre-authorizations, and consultations, and all that other rigmarole that goes along with it, we’ve got a June-July-ish timeframe in mind. So, chances are good Blaine and I will get a mini-vacation to the beautiful Seattle area this summer. (See? Do you see how lucky we are?) :)
We appreciate all the kind thoughts and sentiments the past week, and will keep you guys updated as things progress.
We also talked about the fact that although this wasn’t the outcome for which we had hoped, we are so grateful that complications arose in Blaine’s case, and not Kendrie’s. Kendrie’s cancer treatment was textbook, with hardly a complication or variance. Blaine’s treatment has been skewed from day one, with nothing turning out quite like we anticipate, and complications and delays dragging things out forever. I mean, it’s been three YEARS since his original diagnosis, and the reconstruction work isn’t even done yet. Partly that’s our fault, since we shoved his care to the back burner when Kendrie was diagnosed. And partly it’s the “two steps forward, one step back” philosophy that has plagued him from the beginning. Nothing has been easy, nothing has been simple, nothing has been straightforward. Wait, I'm getting away from my lucky theme here.
Anyway, this is getting depressing. My point is that even though this is discouraging, we are still blessed, and we won’t forget it.
So, on to more cheerful things. The kindergarten PTO performance was stellar, to be sure. While I don’t know that Kendrie necessarily has a future as a Radio City Rockette, I can say with absolute certainty that she was adorable as a jelly bean (although don’t you think it looks suspiciously like a lima bean?)
And yes, that is a dress you see her wearing. She wears one every Sunday to church, without complaint, but a few of her friends at school seemed shocked at the reminder that she actually IS a girl.
She didn’t collapse with shyness like I worried she might, and she got to stand next to the love of her life, Nicholas, for the show, so she was perfectly content.
We have Kellen’s end-of-season basketball party this afternoon, and otherwise we are laying low this weekend. Blaine is functioning, but doesn’t feel quite back to normal yet, so we will take things easy for a while. I think he has 30 days convalescent leave, most of which will be spent getting the ball rolling for his Seattle trip. And have no doubt, once he is feeling better, I’ll find some honey-do’s to work in there. :)
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