Comprehension Dawning

Lets see . . . where to begin.

We began Christmas shopping on the 23rd of December. No, I do not like shopping at that time, but we shop when the bonus mkes it home (yes that means if there's no bonus, Christmas is SEVERLY limited). All in all, things were going well. . .and I had already acquired the main things the kids had asked for. We were at the mall when my phone rang . . . Miss C was agitated and speaking rather faster than the human ear can hear. Her Sweet Prince. . Mr T was kicked out of his parent's home and, since the dorms were closed for the holidays, he had need of a home. Long story short. . .my family of 5 grew by one, and we love having him here. . .I rather imagine we take some getting used to though.

On Christmas Eve, while I was out having lunch with my husband, my phone rang. No, it wasn't the kids asking for last minute gifts or snacks. It was my doctor. The scan revealed that there was tissue in the thyroid bed. Tissue that should have died off in 2002. Or perhaps a regrowth. . .no one knows. No one knows if the tissue is cancerous either. . and a biopsy is not an option. I was offered the option of re-doing the heavy radiated iodine treatment (which may or may not have worked the first time) or waiting, doing some blood tests in a few months and seeing if it grows. Against the wishes of pretty much everyone I have spoken to. . .I chose the wait and see option. I've questioned myself rather intently about why I chose what I did and I came to an understanding of myself over the last day or two. I am still struggling with this disease, with my diagnosis. . . but the anger is abating. Odd, I imagine, especially for someone who is dealing with the possibility of the cancer returning. I thought so too, when I realized I didn't want to throw things and scream. The difference between now and pretty much the last 7 years? I had a choice. More important than anything. . .I was given options to choose from. I have already decided that if the blood tests indicate even the slightest cause for concern . . . I will likely do the radiation treatment this summer. Having the choice. . .having power over my own life returned to me makes such a difference. I am finally at peace with my disease.

The wrapping up of time between disastrous and emotional phone call and now falls like this. . . New Years came and went, we marked out 2oth wedding anniversary with minimal fuss. We have all gone back to school, John is back to work. Mr. G has returned to daycare for a few hours a week and all is well and on track. Miss C and her Prince have become officially engaged and have set a tentative date for the wedding--October here we come! I have reserved rooms and will be preparing for our trip to Disney. I can't wait. We leave in a month. I'm so glad for this adventure and this time with my family. Miss C is excited to share this time with her Prince. I am excited for them too.

I have my first blood test coming up on the 28th.

Time marches on. . .and the greatest gift I received over the holidays was the gift of understanding, and power over my own situation.

I think 2010 is going to be a good year.

Happiest Place on Earth

I have a minor obsession with Disneyland. I admit it.

My mother and the oldest of my brothers and his wife both have MAJOR obsessions. I used to think they were bizarre. It made no sense to me, to be so wrapped up in a theme park. It's just some rides and over-priced souvenir crap, right?

Then I went for the first time. I took NO pictures. I don't think my camera ever came out of my pocket the first day, or the motel room the following days. I was too busy having fun. We were there with family, but John and I were pretty much on our own. It was good to just be together and have fun as a couple like that. I felt like a kid again. There was so much to see and do. . . every little detail, every sight, sound and smell of the place made me feel fantastic! I loved sharing that with my guy.

The second time, we went was a family including my Mr. G. It was a fantastic time. We were in a small motel room, didn't have oodles of money to spend, and were with each other 24/7 and did NOT want to kill each other. That's pretty amazing when dealing with two teenage girls and a three year old boy. I believe a miracle was worked over those 10 days in California. Haha.

I desperately want to go again. I know John thinks I'm losing it, turning into a Disney-obsessed nut job like my mom. I don't THINK I am. So I decided to get in touch with WHY I'm so hung up on driving that far and doing the whole crowded theme park thing when I'm not a fan of road trips or crowds.

The answer, I've determined, is stress. I have ZERO stress at Disneyland. The same 4 people in my life who can push my buttons until I'm ready to explode at home, and who are absolutely my favorite people in the world in spite of that--are the people I love spending every waking moment with when at Mickey's place. Either I have no buttons there, or my family forgets to push them. Either way, I really do feel unbelievably happy there. Cancer isn't in my vocabulary there, much less something I worry about for myself. I don't fret about the weight the cancer put on my body and I'm free to just have fun. I am ME there. I'm not the fat, sick, stressed mom that I am at home. I like being able to find me again. . . even if I have to drive 14 hours to do it. Who would have thought that Me would have jumped ship and run for the land where all my childhood dreams came true? I like to pretend I'm more sophisticated than that. I guess it's time to give up THAT plan and just succumb.

I suppose I am and will be eternally 8 years old, and I want to live at Disneyland.

I know this post is kind of weird, considering. I'm using this minor obsession of mine to cope. When having small outbursts of crying every day gets old, I retreat into a place where fairy tales come true.

Hmm

This has been a rough couple of weeks, and it's going to get rougher.

Earlier this year (May) blood tests indicated a need for another body scan, as a result of my thyroid cancer. It seems that certain levels (thyroglobulin) were indicating a possible presence/recurrance of thyroid cells. My oncologist suggested I have the scan done before end of the year. That brings us to now. I got the call from the nuclear medicine department at the hospital and though I delayed a whole week in calling them back, I have my scan scheduled for the week of the 14th.

I am a mess. I'm angry. Let's just say I'm not handling this well. The scan requres 2 injections (on consecutive days) of a medication that is supposed to take me to a complete zero thyroid supplementation level. The problem with that (aside from the needles, and the feeling like absolute crap, that is), is that this medication has recently been identified as having contaminants in it. . .garbage. Nice. On the third day I get to take a capsule (or more than one, staff was very vague on this) of radioactive iodine. How I love setting off the radioactivity warning sensors in the radiology department (yes this really happened the first time I did this in 2002--7 caps, by the third the warning alarms were all buzzing). I rest on the 4th day, minimizing physical contact with any human wishing to retain use of their own thyroid, since the radioactivity will be excreted by my body even through the pores. I also act as my own nightlight. How exciting. Then I have the joyous experience of laying on a cold flat table while a machine "checks me out" to look for cells. Cells that the RAI would destroy. My husband tells me this makes sense. My brain tells me that this is not a checking for cancer, but a treatment. . .since this is what they did the FIRST time around. Maybe my brain is missing something, but I'm not happy. I am also not reassured, in spite of my husband's attempts at rational explanation. Cancer negates rational ability.

I am afraid. I don't want anyone to tell me to NOT be afraid. . .especially if they don't have any personal experience to back them up. I hate being told not to be afraid by people who have never been in my shoes. I know they mean well. I know it's done with love. Why am I afraid? I mean, it's silly right? Get rid of the cells. . .no more cancer. . right? Yeah, I tried to believe that 7 years ago, and here I am. Facing the gauntlet of treatment/detection yet again. And what if it metastasized? I know, I know, don't worry about it until I get the word. Right. Just borrowing trouble and all that . . . I know.

In spite of my fear, in spite of even the anger. . .I keep moving forward. What comes, comes I guess.

But this drives me to want to plan things, plan GOOD memories for my family to have, should the day come that I cannot be here with them. Melancholy? Yes. Absolutely. . .but it also gives me something positive to focus on and maybe by the time my next happy memory is made, I will get good news. Maybe. I can hope. .can't I?

One more thing that makes me different

I haven't had much to blog about lately. Just every day more of the same stuff. I've been a bit frustrated about things here and there. . .had a bout with the flu. We're moving, again. And I'm tired.

The moving thing will hopefully be the last time for a while. We're buying a place. It's just a manufactured home, but it's got more room than this house does and it will be ours. No "For Sale" sign in the front yard reminding us every time we go in and out that the ax could fall any minute, no being stuck with someone else's decisions on color and carpet. I'll be the first one to admit. My new place is ugly. The primary color scheme is Taupe. Not taupe .. and. Just taupe. Floor to ceiling. The carpet is brownish taupe. The kitchen is straight out hideous. 3 different counter top styles and colors. Leaves painted on the cupboards. The evidence that mice have once occupied the space (blech). But at least I can change all of that. I'm really REALLY struggling with this move I guess. I don't mean to sound ungrateful . . . but I'm just not thrilled at all. I've been trying to talk myself into the place since we first laid eyes on it. I'll probably still be trying when we pay the damn thing off. I just can't work up a greater emotion than "oh" about the whole thing. John and the kids are happy. I'll content myself with that I guess. It's not easy for me to tie myself to one physical location. I hate knowing that this is the same place I'll wake up to, 5 years from now. How does anyone get excited about that? Same walls, same windows, same scenery. I'm tired of moving . . . but it's part of who I am. I move. My life changes and I change with it. This new phase of life seems so stagnant to me, but I'll adjust.

I've had the flu. In fact, I've got a low grade fever again today. Hooray for me. John's got it right now too. Makes for a rough move when every time you breathe, you cough. Oh well.

And I'm just frustrated all over. I'm guessing the illness is what is driving these negative emotions. It's hard to be happy about life, when sickness IS life.

Time to pack some more stuff. Heaven knows we're on our own with this. I need to hop to it.

School has started

Finally. . .I'm back in classes. I'm glad for it but my less than stellar performance this summer has made me a bit gun shy I think. I find I'm VERY impatient with technological problems with classes. . . which was a big source of irritation during one of my online classes during the summer. I need to just chill a little I think.

It's going to be an interesting year I think. John is working, taking care of clients for our business when needed, and trying to take care of his school work. He's been pushing off his English essay classes, can't say that I blame him, so I think I need to start nudging him a bit. He occasionally needs a little redirection when he's avoiding something he doesn't feel confident about. I know that feeling ALL too well, LOL.

Miss 'C' is finding that college isn't the spoon fed fun and games type of educational experience high school was and is stressing (thank goodness she decided to live at home. If she was trying to manage this AND work enough to cover the expense of living in the dorms, the poor girl would have a stroke). But she's still plugging along. The girl has grit, I'll give her that.

Miss 'M' is. . .herself. Which means she tends to get worked up over little things and blow off big things. She has her ACT is scheduled and she's still trying to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up--that includes college choices. Yes. . . that makes her stress out, which stresses out Mama.

My handsome Mr. 'G' is . . .simply amazing. He is my baby, but has informed me of late that he is NOT a baby. . .he is a big boy. Evidently positive peer pressure from daycare is hitting him and it is now uncool to act like a baby to get his way. He's also writing lots of letters, uppercase. . he struggles with lower case still) and is learning the sounds associated with each letter. He's so amazingly, scarily, smart. He gets technology like he was born using cell phones and computers. He is definitely his daddy's boy. He wants to read so badly. It won't be long. He's right in line with his sisters in age and ability where that is concerned. How funny it seems to me, that he is so much like his sisters, in so many ways. It amazes me how I see so much of John, or myself, or the girls in not only his behavior but how he thinks and what appear to be his gifts and talents. What a miracle adoption is. What a miracle 'G' is.

He told me recently that we need to go get his sister. I asked him which one, it wasn't time to pick up Miss 'M', and Miss 'C' has her own car. He, in a very exasperated tone, told me NO, not his BIG sissies. . . . his BABY sister. Umm. . ok. We've had this conversation many times in the last year. He's getting more adamant with each discussion. I don't know how to tell him that we have to wait. It's not like I have the slightest clue if and when a baby sister will come. After all, Miss 'M' would often get irritated with us about her baby brother. . .and look how long it took him to get here, LOL. If Heaven is sending us messages to us through our littlest angel, I'm on board. . .but the boy needs a time line! He doesn't understand "not yet" especially when I can't explain WHY we have to wait. He wants her here NOW! So . . . I have resorted to praying for my son's baby sister, wherever she may be. Its a complicated thing, but the Lord knows our situation, and our hearts. When the time is right. . .if it is right. . .my son will meet his baby sister and we will know what he was fussing about for so long. I hope it's soon--he's wearing me out about this!

Stress. . . self imposed and six months in advance

I must be the only human on the planet to do this to themselves. I am freaking out about something that is 6 months away. . and it has nothing to do with procreation.

I went through my freshman year on cruise control mentally. I assumed I would do the same this year. But I bombed my summer term (life happened) and I am trying to figure out where to stick everything to recover it. On top of that, I decided to get on the website of the university I plan to transfer to and look over the social work department. BAD idea.

In my naivete (or what I fondly refer to as my stupidity) I had no idea that I would have to apply to the School of Social Work. Not only that, that I would require references and a resume. Umm. . .my resume hasn't been able to get me a JOB . . . .how could it possibly be worth a damn when it comes to my educational future. As for references. . . uh. . . . I don't know that many people! Much less people who could vouch for my ability to be a social worker! (Besides the social workers of my former kids). And there are questions about my maturity!!! I'm doomed. Oh and of course there are two essays that need to be written and a whole packet of paperwork proving that I am academically appropriate for the program, and I need to earn grades good enough to overshadow the whole summer term thing and make me competative (meaning B or better).

And it's all due the first Friday in March. Yes, March. I am spazzing over something that is not due for six months. But. . . .oh I don't know. It's just very stressful to me. I'm still just getting used to the idea that I can achieve good grades at my school. . .putting that ability to the test by comparing me to other students from other schools kind of makes me a little ill. I guess my self esteem needs a bit more work, LOL.

I still have 3 weeks before fall term starts!! I keep mumbling to myself "one thing at a time". Umm. . yeah. LOL.

A time of endings. . and of beginnings

Summer is ending. . .more or less. It still feels like an oven outside, but time moves ever onward bringing us to the end of the lazy days we love.

M's senior year is now upon us. Part of me. . .a very tiny part. . .is a bit sad about it. The rest of me is thrilled for her. She's a big fishie in a little pond this year. . . and I think she'll enjoy it. What an adventure! How lucky am I, to be her mother? I'm so grateful to have been graced with her as my daughter.

C's freshman year of college is just around the corner as well. I tend to feel like I'm waiting for something, or I'm waiting for her while she's waiting for something. It makes me a little tense and anxious. . . but I feel confident all will be resolved--and soon. It's probably just facing a new stage of life. She's so excited to start school and get on with the rest of her life. What sadness I might have felt about her graduating and growing up has been replaced with joy as I watch her become the woman she was meant to be. I don't know how I was so blessed to be entrusted with this child.

G is just a handful, but is growing so much every day. He's thrilled with coloring and I'm sure with a little focus on my part, he'll be reading sometime this school year. I need to find him just the right daycare/pre-school to attend while I'm in classes, so that is always stressful, but I feel fine about it. I know I'll find something that is right for us, and especially him.

After completely bombing my summer term. . .I'm ready to head back to classes this fall. I don't think I managed well with the disorganization of summertime. Eh. . . . it was only 3 classes which are easily re-done if I choose to re-do two of them.

Hubby is doing well in his studies. . .though he's been captain procrastination with his english classes. Can't say that I blame him. . . . term papers suck. I'm so excited for him to be doing this, and for what it will bring for our future when he graduates.

I love September. . .it is my spring. It is a time of renewal and beginnings. I get a little giddy when I start seeing plaid pleated skirts in the little girl's clothing section and packs of loose leaf notebook paper on sale. It brings me hope for what is to come and an end to what has come and gone. Here's to things getting even better!