sit tight

tomorrow we travel back to our lives post-holidays-with-the-family.  the holidays-with-the-family went fabulously.  lots of ease and only one misunderstanding sorted out ultimately and accomplishing a new level of communication with one of the teens.  nice gifts.  waaaaay too much food.  i fell down big time.  ok, not as hard and deep as i would have 2 years ago when i would have hoovered up everything that was really awful for me but enough that my colon will need another week to recover.  it seems to be virtually impossible for me to not ‘just take a few pieces’ of poppycock…it’s like heroin to me.  impossible to resist and i need more in little bits.  thankfully, there will be no more caramel-glazed poppycock in my immediate future.  today a last run to the pool for the kids and, after a long walk together downtown, a belated holiday movie for me and my wonderful sister-in-law . 

then comes the minor pain:  packing up holiday gifts – so many books; so weighty – and leaving behind thoughtful but impossible to bring back gifts – a glass jar of homemade tomato chutney – and being thoughtful about how to make my pocketbook and rolling carry-on become one item in the wake of air canada’s new strict guidelines.  no getting out of one’s seat for the last hour – geez, no liquids on the plane for me!  someone suggested we invest in ‘depends’!  will we have to sit in our seats with our hands neatly folded?  flying is becoming quite the chore.  so i’m saying a few mantras that tomorrow goes smoothly and we’ll be back home in brooklyn in short order, loving up our kitty and grabbing a quick pasta dinner at midnight.  meanwhile, for that last hour: sit tight. 

traveling in grey

we tend to travel during the fall and winter school vacations.  teenage daughter goes to camp – her heart of hearts as it was mine – and that leaves most of the summer as unusable to travel together as a threesome family.  and we like it that way.  we travel well together.   i was worried early on that our daughter might be a wiggly non-distractable traveling companion but she’s happy to sit and read or watch passengers go by while waiting for trains, planes and boats.  we all like to explore in new cities and new destinations – incorporating a big museum or site in but also liking to just walk and watch and be delighted at unexpected findings. 

this trip isn’t new.  we’re out in victoria, b.c. to stay with husband’s family and just all be together.  oldest nephew will graduate high school this year and the adults feel the impending change – the first of the kids to be out of obligatory schooling – so we wanted to have a time together before that happened. 

there is something easy about traveling somewhere that does not guarantee sunny sunny weather.  grey skies and on and off rainy days take the pressure off – we don’t need to be outside but when we are, we see it all from a different often-stormy skyline.   fewer people and more space to let your imagination drift out over the insanely beautiful sea – dotted with bobbing seals and the occasional regal heron perched on a flotilla of seaweed and driftwood.  some people see grey.  i see shades of stormy blue.

we’re all connected

so many ideas flit through my head over the day and i thought i’d be posting about my day yesterday – a trying day of my now-yearly mri.  in a way, this is about that.  at 4 years out, i’m in a twice a year mode with my radiologist.  in june i have a bilateral mammogram and bilateral sonogram and then in december an mri with contrast dye.  in sorting out the things that you don’t mind/can handle and the things that drive you crazy, i’ve settled on being unable to handle nausea and hating needles…specifically iv’s.  i was adamant that i didn’t want a port put in before my chemo and had all my chemos iv’d through my left hand.  the result being that i have about 2 veins left that anyone can find to put an iv in when needed..and am not allowed needle sticks nor blood pressure readings on the right side because the surgeon took so many lymph nodes out and i have dealt with mild lymphadema (but under control).  all of this is a leadup to the dreaded mri in december.  i have the most amazing and compassionate radiologist - she had better be because she’s completely out of network for my insurance.  however, the ‘regular’ nurses really have trouble finding veins in my arms/hand so i have a dance.  i go to my surgeon’s office on 34th street at nyu cancer center and her nurse puts in the iv.  they check the blood return, and then tape that sucker down and wrap me up in a gauze bandage.  coat slung over my shoulders, i hail a cab and bump up to east 84th street to my radiologist’s office.  (and, yes, this is the one appointment my darling hubby still comes on with me…nice to have him there to distract me.)  then i wait in the office – last year for an hour and this year for about 10 minutes only, and then on to the mri.  last year was awful – took even the super-talented ex-oncology nurse 3 tries to get an iv in.  but this year took only twice and i was much calmer in general.  in fact, no tears.  i tend to have emotional flashbacks at the iv experience and this year, i will pat myself on the back (now that the iv is out and the mri done) to say that i did not cry.  i had about 2 minutes of panic while in the mri machine but forced myself to think about something else (the panic was about the ‘what if’s’ and not the being in the machine…even though i don’t love that..at least i’m laying on my belly and head toward the front.)  haven’t gotten the full report back but she told me that the quick look looked ok. 

after that long-winded setup, what i really wanted to write about was the waiting room.  my husband took his customary chair in the corner of this estrogen-heavy waiting room – lots of woman’s magazines and he was the only guy.  there were 3 women there.  i figured out that they were waiting for a friend who was in the back having a procedure.  they were the epitome of the upper east side socialite women-of-a-certain-age.  one dressed in workout gear – she had very apparent face work done ..her cheeks seemed to be a different age than other parts of her face.  one in stilletto-heeled ’jungle’ ankle booties, cream apres-ski pants and perpetually blond hair.  the third  very petite and chewing gum.  yes, i was quietly judgemental.  it’s hard not to be and anyone who says different is simply lying.  i’m sure people make judgements when they see me.  to some i’m too fussy or too dressed and to these women, i didn’t even rate on that style scale.  ok.  but their talk was particuarly vacuous - it was clear that they operated in a small privileged social circle. 

when i got out of the mri procedure and came out dressed to wait in the waiting room, they were still there.  a few minutes later their friend came out of the back – i’m pretty sure she had a biopsy done and was obviously cradling one side which was probably painful and had obviously already been through some treatments…her hair was at her shoulders but very thin and she looked fragile.  they were so there for her.  they knew her and they were going to take care of her.  she went into the back for a few minutes and i looked over to them and said:  “it’s good she has you as her friends…i wish her all the best.”  and even though they wouldn’t ever have socialized with me in the real world nor i with them, they smiled at me and we were just 4 women standing there all in the same or potentially the same boat.  we all understood each other completely for a few minutes.

where is she?

it’s the year of independence.  for some it’s earlier and others later but for our teenage daughter, turning 15 tomorrow, it’s this 9th grade year.  tho her dad likes to walk her to the subway in the morning – claiming that he needs the exercise but really because he just loves being with her and she with him … they are the proverbial two peas in the pod – she’s taking the subway to school and often back home.  for the past few days letting herself in the house.  i work close to her school and as i am a freelancer, i am often available to give her a ride back.  but also often not.  we want her to be confident and independent in the world – especially navigating her native brooklyn and nyc.   it’s an interesting time for a girl with her head often lost in the clouds of thought.

so far this week, she’s forgotten her phone; then forgotten her key (she happily sat in the back yard waiting and doing homework but i also presume, just grooving on the cool fall garden); then forgotten to answer her phone; then her phone went dead today.  none of this phases her.  much of it phases me.  i figure i’ve really done my job right as a parent if i can get it into her head that she needs to go out into nyc prepared and that simply means: cell phone, wallet with a modest amount of bills and change, house key and a loaded metro card. 

i am baffled that i am about to celebrate my beautiful daughter’s 15th birthday tomorrow.  she came into the world 4 weeks early and weighed a whopping 3 lbs 14 ounces and was feisty as a little prizefighter.  her grandma marianne called her an ‘imperious imp.’  truer words have rarely been spoken.  she’s brave and quirky and uninterested in being like everyone else.  she fits in and doesn’t fit in.  i worry for her and i hope she finds a way to give all her gifts to the world.  but mostly, i often want to know:  where the heck is she?   happy birthday to my wonderful girl.

compassion abounds

 

we had a really lovely 4 days away romping around beantown.  (beanygetsablog in beantown?!)  it was my first time up there since i was in high school and my sister attended wheelock (so that was a really really really long time ago).  and all i remembered from that visit were the train tracks, her college cafeteria and the frat party i was allowed to attend at m.i.t. where her then-boyfriend (since husband) attended.  with my sister-in-law teaching at university there, we had a chance to leave brooklyn and have a few days away. 

my sister-in-law teaches educational theater and had the foresight to get us tickets to see ‘best of both worlds’ at the american repertory theater in cambridge.  i highly recommend it.  it is a gospel retelling of ‘a winter’s tale’ – a shakespearean play that is a little stilted and stumbly (well, as far as i’m concerned).  she had come with us and our teenage daughter last year to see ‘a winter’s tale’ performed by ‘the bridge project’ at bam.  so this was a chance for her (and us) to see the same play done very differently.  the director is diane paulus - she directed the current production of ‘hair’ on bway.  her husband was the lyricist.  it was just the kind of theater i love – minimal sets and actors who can sing very very well and don’t flail about as a way of putting a  song across.  she brought the audience into the play and it was really a delightful afternoon.

sitting on the front side row was a man in a wheelchair.  he was obviously not able to move his own body and his head was held in place also.  i surmised that the older couple sitting next to him were his parents.  i’d guess them to be about 70-75 and he was in his 50’s.  i’d glance over occasionally and think that i could see him making some eye contact with the actors but it could have been wishful thinking on my part. 

the last number was a big choir-backed hallelujah raise-the-rafters, get up, and clap your hands finale.  it melded together as we, the audience, had gone on the journey with the cast and we were all clapping with each other to see this play to the end.  i looked over and saw that the man’s mother was up on her feet like all of us.  but his father (i presume) was sitting with him.  he had taken his son’s hand and was holding it with one hand and clapping on his arm in rhythm with the other.   he must have known that his son could somehow experience this joyful experience as part of the whole audience.  it was so immeasurably touching.  it’s hard to get through the days that we live and the little things can mean all the difference to hold us through the worst of times. 

very thankful

 

wishing every reader of my ramblings a healthy and happy thanksgiving.  i hope it’s a nice break.  i hope it’s filled with succulent smells – whether carnivorous or plant-based – and some hours of pure relaxation.   i am not a saccharin girl grateful for every little thing but i am certainly grateful for many little things and more than a few big ones like my wonderful family – extended, blood-related, and pick-ups – and for being here.  happy thanksgiving …. beany

up, up, up and down

it has been an unexpectedly emotional week.  i was going to say emotionally-draining but in some ways emotionally-bolstering or emotionally-charged might also fit the bill.  the new breast cancer screening recommendations set off a series of days in which i was furious (see previous post)– and still am, incredulous, and found myself ‘out’ as a breast cancer person in the world – “well, i was that one in 19,000″ and basically talking very publicly about the process and the path and how i feel today and how i worry about tomorrow,  etc.

yes, you’d think that has already happened.  my breast  cancer treatment was 4 years ago.  blink.  4 years passes like slow molasses and also quickly.  there are a new cast of characters in my life – work colleagues who didn’t know because they joined the firm more recently and you find yourself discussing cancer screenings and procedures from a very personal viewpoint – it’s the first time in a while that i once again felt that there was a neon sign over my head screaming ‘cancer’.  i wish i could say it read ‘cancer survivor’ but i haven’t quite gotten to that particular turn-in-the-road.   but i’m talking about it.  i know other women who can’t talk about it – it’s just too close to them – almost hovering over them – or they are still going through it.  the discussion can come close to rocking-the-karmic-boat – i know that feeling. 

at the end of the week, i feel tired.  i cannot imagine what it must feel like to be a full-time advocate.  the emotional toll must be enormous.  or is it just a job? 

i’m looking forward to 4 days away at thanksgiving.  don’t like the packing up or the traveling but do want a change of scene for a few days. 

 

you should be FURIOUS too

livid.  beside myself.  the new mammogram ‘guidelines’ recommendation is an abomination and must have been lobbied solely by the insurance companies…because that’s about who it benefits.  i’m posting a link but i could have written the same post – i would have been dead by now also without proper screening.  to add the most base insult to injury, the ‘guidelines’ tell women to stop doing self-exams.  who the fuck is on that committee?  wealthy men who own a lot of insurance company stock?  i rarely wish people ill but this mean-spirited change makes me wish that they ‘learn’ what it means to to be misdirected about monitoring their own health issues.  really, they should rot.  while i’m still fuming, this blog post below speaks eloquently to the subject.  you should be furious too. 

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kathleen-reardon/id-be-dead-by-now—-the_b_360538.html

never say never

on the up side, this isn’t a cancer post!  but it’s a sheepish-take-back-my-previous-post-post.  no droid phone for me.  it was a weird journey in which i got caught up in the excitement and found out that i was older than i thought!  or, at the very least, when push came to shove, i was firm about what i wanted.  that new droid phone is pretty cool…and has some amazing features.  but within 18 hours (some of them sleepless as my head spun with new technology trying to work it’s way through my aging synapses) i knew that it was not the needed-technology for me.  i didn’t like the shape – hard and oversized in my hand, the cold glass screen (always riddled with fingerprints) against my face and the flat keyboard was fingernail-city for typing.   i LOVE computers and i love playing word games and bubblet on my (now-retired) treo.  but i love/must have completely seamless email and a complex calendar that includes the three of us in one integrated color-coded view.  i always said: never a blackberry.  yes.  never say never.  i am now the semi-proud owner and user of a new blackberry tour – and tho it took a little bit of work and 2 hours of steve-the-computer-guy fixing some old pent-up tech issues on my laptop, it’s now loaded and running beautifully.  perfect syncing with outlook.  the games suck..maybe i’ll start reading more books in the subway – that would be a good thing for me.   i actually slept last night knowing that my day would mean i’d have all my contacts and calendar appointments with me.  on the plus side, it will be a phone we can use overseas for our travels (italy here we come in march!).  never say never.  listen to your instincts.  don’t hesitate to change/fix something that you know in your gut is not working for you.  my mini-life lessons (mostly for myself) for the day.  and i’m a bean with a bb!  that seems fitting. 

there’s a lot to be learned

from listening. take from that what you will. in a situation born out of luck and determination, i am able to exorcize (pun intended) some of my demons in my basement. lest you picture me practicing some cultish behaviour, it’s much simpler than that. i’m able to exercise in my basement. it’s not a beautiful basement but it’s private. (a reminder, that i live in brooklyn, new york…so a basement or private space to spread out is not a given but a luxurious joy.)  for the past week or so, i’ve started my exercise as usual: earphones in; ipod on. but rather than belting out whatever harmonic line suits my fancy, i’ve been purposefully quiet. i’ve forgotten how hard it is to just listen. so i have been working at it – just as i work at being disciplined at actually getting down to my ‘routine’. i have to stop myself from singing along and let myself hear the lyric and the arc of the song and the pitch of the singer. on another pass, i listen to the structure of the notes and the intervals playing off each other. the lyric. no matter how good the singer, a bad lyric can’t be saved. even just melting into the beats … a form of listening.  sometimes i feel the rise of my breath wanting to move along with the line of music and work to settle back and just hear.  i’m working on listening.