Family Resemblance
People often remark on the strong family resemblance between my sisters and me. I easily used their I.D.'s to get into bars as a teen, snuck into a casino once claiming to be twins and been mistaken for them by acquaintances and old boyfriends.
It was a stab to the heart but not really a surprise when my eldest sister was diagnosed with breast cancer about a year ago. Initial biopsy tests pegged it as identical to mine. Both of ours resembled our mother's breast cancer, although the testing has gotten better in the past 15 years so we really can't tell if they were THAT close. Double positive, yes...
A couple of years ago I was asked to be a part of a further genetic testing survey. Because I was tested for BRCA1 and 2, the testing lab was offering to look at 25 more genes that had been discovered to be linked to a myriad of other cancers. I tested negative for all the ones that were confirmed to be linked to elevated risk, and came back positive on a couple that were inconclusive. I suppose once they get the data back in from the expanded testing they'll be able to figure out if that means anything.
This week the Guv'ment proposed a law to allow employers to genetically test employees. In the post-apocalyptic world, folks who have some of these genes will be uninsurable, and thus unemployable. (Or vice-versa.) If they are fortunate enough to be born rich, they will be able to treat the inevitable cancers that develop. If not, they will die young.
I have two other sisters. They now have three first degree relatives who have had breast cancer. It sucks to be them. One has chosen to have some genetic counseling done, while the other has chosen to not. Either way they both know they have elevated risk, which means they will either get cancer, or not. No way to know. Not much help in that.
Having had cancer once, I know I have an elevated risk as well. Whether it's recurrence or a whole different new type of cancer, I have a bigger chance of getting cancer than most people. This used to keep me up at night, but not so much anymore. Agonizing over whether eating bacon or breathing pesticide or carrying my cell phone in my bra for years somehow contributed to my cancer is not just unknowable, but also detrimental to my well being. I figure as long as I can still move and balance and stretch and lift things about as well as other people who are my age, I'm doing ok. It gives me some peace of mind. My sisters can all move and balance and stretch and lift things about as well as I can, and that's going to have to do for them too. But it's hard to forget the family resemblance.
Why Netflix is Quintessentially American.
Once upon a time, there was a television writers' strike. In 1992, writers, fed up with the tiny slice of compensation they were offered by networks for their creative craft, decided to hit them where it hurt by not producing any scripts for shows in production. And it created a monster.
The networks responded by developing and airing unscripted entertainment with the misnomer 'reality t.v.' It had been done before in the form of game shows and some documentaries, but not in such an intimate manner. All of a sudden we were thrust into a living room or contest with REAL people. People like us! We could be them! The television networks were on to something. Not only did they not have to pay writers, but for the most part, Everyman was ready, willing and able to star in a show for a pittance compared to what actors and actresses expected to be paid. The networks opened the floodgates of 15 minutes of fame to Everyman and it was novel and awesome... (for about 15 minutes.)
Chefs and models and designers and singers and dancers flocked to the airwaves and television audiences ate it up. Interesting hobby? Moderate talent? Quirky family? Odd behavior? Exploitive lifestyle? Then YOU NEED to be on TV! Somewhere between Iron Chef and Honey Boo Boo, television jumped the shark. I'd say it happened around 2010 or so but I'm not really sure because I'd stopped watching TV long before that.
But wait! Cable networks saw a void and started to produce high quality shows where they no longer ceased to exist. But of course, who can afford a $180/month cable bill in order to get a weekly fix of Breaking Bad or Weeds? Within a few short years, must see TV was back, but with a twist.
This is where Netflix and Hulu come in. Not sure you want to emotionally commit to a show? No problem. Instead of investing time and energy and then finding out it sucks, you can sit out the entire season, read what the critics and listen what your friends say and then - get this! BINGE on tv! How terribly American is that? Five years of Breaking Bad in one month! Almost instantaneous gratification. And once you binge, you never go back to weekly viewing. Why waste your time once a week when you can live your life oblivious to TV and then get caught up on a whole season in one weekend while you have the flu?
It's so very American - Extreme TV. Like Power Yoga, an oxymoron and idea completely gone awry. A medium meant for entertainment and relaxation turned into some intense emotional marathon and we eat it up like super-sized fries. So very American.
The networks responded by developing and airing unscripted entertainment with the misnomer 'reality t.v.' It had been done before in the form of game shows and some documentaries, but not in such an intimate manner. All of a sudden we were thrust into a living room or contest with REAL people. People like us! We could be them! The television networks were on to something. Not only did they not have to pay writers, but for the most part, Everyman was ready, willing and able to star in a show for a pittance compared to what actors and actresses expected to be paid. The networks opened the floodgates of 15 minutes of fame to Everyman and it was novel and awesome... (for about 15 minutes.)
Chefs and models and designers and singers and dancers flocked to the airwaves and television audiences ate it up. Interesting hobby? Moderate talent? Quirky family? Odd behavior? Exploitive lifestyle? Then YOU NEED to be on TV! Somewhere between Iron Chef and Honey Boo Boo, television jumped the shark. I'd say it happened around 2010 or so but I'm not really sure because I'd stopped watching TV long before that.
But wait! Cable networks saw a void and started to produce high quality shows where they no longer ceased to exist. But of course, who can afford a $180/month cable bill in order to get a weekly fix of Breaking Bad or Weeds? Within a few short years, must see TV was back, but with a twist.
This is where Netflix and Hulu come in. Not sure you want to emotionally commit to a show? No problem. Instead of investing time and energy and then finding out it sucks, you can sit out the entire season, read what the critics and listen what your friends say and then - get this! BINGE on tv! How terribly American is that? Five years of Breaking Bad in one month! Almost instantaneous gratification. And once you binge, you never go back to weekly viewing. Why waste your time once a week when you can live your life oblivious to TV and then get caught up on a whole season in one weekend while you have the flu?
It's so very American - Extreme TV. Like Power Yoga, an oxymoron and idea completely gone awry. A medium meant for entertainment and relaxation turned into some intense emotional marathon and we eat it up like super-sized fries. So very American.
12 February 2014
Separate but Equal?
I am taking an adult ed course offered by my local Chabad. This course addresses the struggle of being a modern American Jew with all the freedoms it affords. As with most knowledge, it always helps to understand whence it comes. Looking at the material critically is teaching me more about myself than I was expecting.
My grandparents were racist, my American grandparents more so than my Canadian ones, but both were raised in a generation that viewed caucasians of Western European descent at the top of the pecking order, and everyone else below. They were the pinnacle of culture, industry and intellect. I can remember my grandmother saying things that just aren't said anymore. And even though I was eight at the time, I clearly remember their response to seeing the Bond flick, Live and Let Die where he gets busy with Gloria Hendry, (an African American.) It ruined the film for them.
My parents grew up with those folks as their role models. But with the civil rights movement taking hold while my parents were young adults, they benefitted from the ideas around them, producing a shift in thinking. Still, while I was growing up, both of my parents used what would today be considered derogatory ethnic epithets. People for whom this is not offensive chalk it up to the times. These days, more enlightened minds are no longer apologists for the way things were. And to be sure, as social mores continue to shift towards equality (in every way save economic,) the people I know of my parents' generation have mostly moved with them. The jokes are still stereotypical, racist and discriminatory, but they aren't quite as bad.
So that brings me to where I stand today and I'm embarrassed to say that I holdover some of these prejudices. As with most people, in my heart of hearts I often judge strangers based on deep-seeded prejudices I hold surrounding their ethnicity, nationality, religion, age, sex, etc. even when I don't have first hand knowledge of the group to which I perceive them to belong. I hate that about me. On the other hand, daily my mind opens more as I strive to educate myself on these issues. There are so many terrific articles and opinions about our differences and our similarities.
Of course in the big picture, we all want the same thing; it's when you start to drill down, the differences emerge and it's here where one has to re-evaluate whether what I want for me and mine is somehow impeding what someone else wants for them and theirs. It helps that I am an abundant thinker. I believe there is enough good stuff in the universe to go around. Prosperity, health and happiness are not zero-sum games. Folks who cannot rejoice for others' happiness stop the spread of joy. Joy is only boundless if you believe it to be so.
As I was sitting in my course the other night, an idea was put forth to me that I did not agree with. At first it kind of shocked me because it seemed like I was the only one who doubted what the facilitator had said. And it occurred to me that I am moving towards a more humanistic view of the world. As I strive towards egalitarianism, a humanistic lens feels like the right place to position myself. I'd rather be judgmental not about sexuality, nor religious affiliation, nor color, nor nationality, but instead about whether you are a douchebag asshat or not. (And I really think this needs to be the gold standard of judgment, rather than xenophobic differences.) Douchebag asshats, be warned: I don't feel bad about discriminating against you.
Jews have historically maintained a separation from the other cultures and nations. Often this was imposed by others, but in our modern era, and in this egalitarian state, many Jews strive to foster the separation. Whether by dress, diet, or locale, the separation of the Jewish community from the whole is an important ideology that enables Jews to survive. (At least that's one theory.) As the Chosen People, it is our lot to be a light to all nations. I don't have faith in the concept of separate but equal which historically has proven nigh impossible as economic, political and social power tends to coalesces to the majority. But even more importantly, separation breeds xenophobia. Just as I am apt to pre-judge people I don't know, I am more likely to show concern for those with whom I am connected.
I decided to take this adult education course because I'm feeling somewhat ambivalent about my Judaism. (And having taken the Spring semester off of school I needed a little intellectual stimulation.) Rather than learning how to balance the requirements of Judaism with the freedoms our modern society provides, I am now looking at how to fit Judaism into the humanism that I wish to advance in my own spiritual quest and the equality that it cultivates. My other big challenge is that I operate in a rather homogeneous world and I see few opportunities to break out of it and into a more culturally, ethnically, religiously or economically diverse reality without making some drastic changes to how I live, where I live and what I like to do. The only disparate individuals currently in my sphere are a few douchebag asshats, and we all know where they can go!
I am taking an adult ed course offered by my local Chabad. This course addresses the struggle of being a modern American Jew with all the freedoms it affords. As with most knowledge, it always helps to understand whence it comes. Looking at the material critically is teaching me more about myself than I was expecting.
My grandparents were racist, my American grandparents more so than my Canadian ones, but both were raised in a generation that viewed caucasians of Western European descent at the top of the pecking order, and everyone else below. They were the pinnacle of culture, industry and intellect. I can remember my grandmother saying things that just aren't said anymore. And even though I was eight at the time, I clearly remember their response to seeing the Bond flick, Live and Let Die where he gets busy with Gloria Hendry, (an African American.) It ruined the film for them.
My parents grew up with those folks as their role models. But with the civil rights movement taking hold while my parents were young adults, they benefitted from the ideas around them, producing a shift in thinking. Still, while I was growing up, both of my parents used what would today be considered derogatory ethnic epithets. People for whom this is not offensive chalk it up to the times. These days, more enlightened minds are no longer apologists for the way things were. And to be sure, as social mores continue to shift towards equality (in every way save economic,) the people I know of my parents' generation have mostly moved with them. The jokes are still stereotypical, racist and discriminatory, but they aren't quite as bad.
So that brings me to where I stand today and I'm embarrassed to say that I holdover some of these prejudices. As with most people, in my heart of hearts I often judge strangers based on deep-seeded prejudices I hold surrounding their ethnicity, nationality, religion, age, sex, etc. even when I don't have first hand knowledge of the group to which I perceive them to belong. I hate that about me. On the other hand, daily my mind opens more as I strive to educate myself on these issues. There are so many terrific articles and opinions about our differences and our similarities.
Of course in the big picture, we all want the same thing; it's when you start to drill down, the differences emerge and it's here where one has to re-evaluate whether what I want for me and mine is somehow impeding what someone else wants for them and theirs. It helps that I am an abundant thinker. I believe there is enough good stuff in the universe to go around. Prosperity, health and happiness are not zero-sum games. Folks who cannot rejoice for others' happiness stop the spread of joy. Joy is only boundless if you believe it to be so.
As I was sitting in my course the other night, an idea was put forth to me that I did not agree with. At first it kind of shocked me because it seemed like I was the only one who doubted what the facilitator had said. And it occurred to me that I am moving towards a more humanistic view of the world. As I strive towards egalitarianism, a humanistic lens feels like the right place to position myself. I'd rather be judgmental not about sexuality, nor religious affiliation, nor color, nor nationality, but instead about whether you are a douchebag asshat or not. (And I really think this needs to be the gold standard of judgment, rather than xenophobic differences.) Douchebag asshats, be warned: I don't feel bad about discriminating against you.
Jews have historically maintained a separation from the other cultures and nations. Often this was imposed by others, but in our modern era, and in this egalitarian state, many Jews strive to foster the separation. Whether by dress, diet, or locale, the separation of the Jewish community from the whole is an important ideology that enables Jews to survive. (At least that's one theory.) As the Chosen People, it is our lot to be a light to all nations. I don't have faith in the concept of separate but equal which historically has proven nigh impossible as economic, political and social power tends to coalesces to the majority. But even more importantly, separation breeds xenophobia. Just as I am apt to pre-judge people I don't know, I am more likely to show concern for those with whom I am connected.
I decided to take this adult education course because I'm feeling somewhat ambivalent about my Judaism. (And having taken the Spring semester off of school I needed a little intellectual stimulation.) Rather than learning how to balance the requirements of Judaism with the freedoms our modern society provides, I am now looking at how to fit Judaism into the humanism that I wish to advance in my own spiritual quest and the equality that it cultivates. My other big challenge is that I operate in a rather homogeneous world and I see few opportunities to break out of it and into a more culturally, ethnically, religiously or economically diverse reality without making some drastic changes to how I live, where I live and what I like to do. The only disparate individuals currently in my sphere are a few douchebag asshats, and we all know where they can go!
29 November 2013
Thanksgiving Post-Mortem
I think I need to jot down a few notes from this year's experience so I can a) continue to build mad turkey skillz and also so my kids can look back on this stuff and be able to do it on their own when the time comes.
I asked Miriam when she was going to take over Thanksgiving and she emphatically said never. That's not gonna work for me.
1) This year I had a really big turkey because last year we seriously had NO turkey leftovers. Like none. So our 20 pounder went into the oven before 9am and promptly scorched because it was within 2 inches of the element. And we had WAY TOO MUCH turkey left over this year. It's so like me to over-correct. Note for next year: 15 pound turkey, tops.
2) For the second year running, the turkey seriously held us up. All the guidelines say 10-15 minutes per pound but it never works out like that for me. Maybe it's because I brine the bird and it gets extra cold? I even took it out of the brine and let it sit for a couple of hours to come to temperature before I put it in the oven. No dice. I ended up closer to 20 minutes per pound and still had some deep interior spots looking a little questionable. (Luckily we had more than enough well cooked outer parts to feed everyone.) Note for next year: start even earlier.
3) Because the turkey held us up, the parade of casserole and veggies didn't make it into the oven on time. First world problem - I have so much food I need three ovens to cook it all. Note for next year: Use the portable roaster aka turkey oven. That leaves me one oven at 350 for casseroles and one oven at 425 for roasted veggies. (I do pies the day before.)
4) Note for next year: More wine. ('Nuff said.)
5) I had a request for oyster dressing this year. I had never made, tasted, nor seen oyster dressing. Note for next year: 1/4 of the intarweb recipe I grabbed will be sufficient for next year. Corollary note: Ask someone who has made, tasted, or seen the new recipe I'm trying if it makes sense.
6) Mash-ups are good. New favorite recipe: Roasted Brussels Sprouts with pastrami and pickled red onions. Definitely a keeper.
7) Gravy notes: one tablespoon of flour to a cup of cold stock or water. Keep doing it until it thickens. I always try to put too much flour in at once and end up having to strain the lumps out. It turns out just fine, but the extra time to strain the gravy is a hassle when I'm trying to get everything on the table.
8) Carving notes: Turkey needs to rest more than 30 minutes. Big ones really need the time to compose themselves, and while I usually stick the bird on a board in order to salvage the roaster so I can start making gravy, the amount of juices that spill out of that bad boy run all over the counter, and sometimes the floor. I need to research/find the proper base for turkey carving. Preferably one that has a 4 - 6 cup juice reservoir.
9) Note for next year: More rolls.
10) Nobody mentioned missing the bread stuffing, but because I won't have latkes next year I may add it back in. And it will be secretly filled with all sorts of meat and or veggies to make it a little more nutritious.
11) I made the girls set up the table the day before and then we went out for dinner Wednesday. WIN! Note for next year: AGAIN!
12) Notes, notes, notes. Having several notes going along with my recipes printed out was exceedingly helpful. Note for next year: A post it with each food item on it laid out on buffet with serving dish and implement. Countdown note from eating time to wake up time on Thursday. Big ass grocery list started from recipes and notes from previous years - Tuesday Big Shop, leaving Wednesday for all the stuff I forget on Tuesday. Note from Pop: Buy an other dozen eggs.
I hope your Thanksgiving went as smoothly as mine and that your holidays are wonderful.
I think I need to jot down a few notes from this year's experience so I can a) continue to build mad turkey skillz and also so my kids can look back on this stuff and be able to do it on their own when the time comes.
I asked Miriam when she was going to take over Thanksgiving and she emphatically said never. That's not gonna work for me.
1) This year I had a really big turkey because last year we seriously had NO turkey leftovers. Like none. So our 20 pounder went into the oven before 9am and promptly scorched because it was within 2 inches of the element. And we had WAY TOO MUCH turkey left over this year. It's so like me to over-correct. Note for next year: 15 pound turkey, tops.
2) For the second year running, the turkey seriously held us up. All the guidelines say 10-15 minutes per pound but it never works out like that for me. Maybe it's because I brine the bird and it gets extra cold? I even took it out of the brine and let it sit for a couple of hours to come to temperature before I put it in the oven. No dice. I ended up closer to 20 minutes per pound and still had some deep interior spots looking a little questionable. (Luckily we had more than enough well cooked outer parts to feed everyone.) Note for next year: start even earlier.
3) Because the turkey held us up, the parade of casserole and veggies didn't make it into the oven on time. First world problem - I have so much food I need three ovens to cook it all. Note for next year: Use the portable roaster aka turkey oven. That leaves me one oven at 350 for casseroles and one oven at 425 for roasted veggies. (I do pies the day before.)
4) Note for next year: More wine. ('Nuff said.)
5) I had a request for oyster dressing this year. I had never made, tasted, nor seen oyster dressing. Note for next year: 1/4 of the intarweb recipe I grabbed will be sufficient for next year. Corollary note: Ask someone who has made, tasted, or seen the new recipe I'm trying if it makes sense.
6) Mash-ups are good. New favorite recipe: Roasted Brussels Sprouts with pastrami and pickled red onions. Definitely a keeper.
7) Gravy notes: one tablespoon of flour to a cup of cold stock or water. Keep doing it until it thickens. I always try to put too much flour in at once and end up having to strain the lumps out. It turns out just fine, but the extra time to strain the gravy is a hassle when I'm trying to get everything on the table.
8) Carving notes: Turkey needs to rest more than 30 minutes. Big ones really need the time to compose themselves, and while I usually stick the bird on a board in order to salvage the roaster so I can start making gravy, the amount of juices that spill out of that bad boy run all over the counter, and sometimes the floor. I need to research/find the proper base for turkey carving. Preferably one that has a 4 - 6 cup juice reservoir.
9) Note for next year: More rolls.
10) Nobody mentioned missing the bread stuffing, but because I won't have latkes next year I may add it back in. And it will be secretly filled with all sorts of meat and or veggies to make it a little more nutritious.
11) I made the girls set up the table the day before and then we went out for dinner Wednesday. WIN! Note for next year: AGAIN!
12) Notes, notes, notes. Having several notes going along with my recipes printed out was exceedingly helpful. Note for next year: A post it with each food item on it laid out on buffet with serving dish and implement. Countdown note from eating time to wake up time on Thursday. Big ass grocery list started from recipes and notes from previous years - Tuesday Big Shop, leaving Wednesday for all the stuff I forget on Tuesday. Note from Pop: Buy an other dozen eggs.
I hope your Thanksgiving went as smoothly as mine and that your holidays are wonderful.
21 November 2013
Is It Cancerous In Here, Or Is It Just Me?
I'm not sure if it is because of the stupid pink October, or the even stupider 'Movember'** but lately I've been seeing a lot of cancer. I feel surrounded by it. Friends, family, neighbors, acquaintances have all had bad news diagnoses rendered in the past little while. People who I have been following by blog have succumbed, new blogs are constantly popping up as recommended reading for me and a good many of them are Stage 4 folks.
** As an aside, my beef with Movember is: Why make your face look like a vagina in order to bring awareness to men's health???? Well, and I hate mustaches/beards. But I digress....
I'm trying to figure out how I feel about this because I don't feel right. I'm quite disturbed by it and I'm not sure if what I'm feeling is part of my new normal (being hypersensitive to cancer?) or just a result of the amount of bad news I've heard. We all feel that twinge of there-but-for-the-grace-of-God when we hear of someone else's misfortunes, but having been struck once really brings it home. And having had it doesn't protect me from having it again... like chicken pox would. So when I hear that someone else has cancer, it disturbs me in a hey-it-could-be-me-again way, as well as an another-one-bites-the-dust kind of way. I know what surgery and chemo is like. Thinking about others going through it is saddening. Sure, it's doable, but it sucks.
The thing about cancer is that it is really so very random. Sure there are risk factors, but how many times have you heard someone say something to the effect of "I can't believe Jane Doe got cancer! She exercised, and didn't smoke and was really healthy! Who would have though she'd get it?" Which is kind of like saying you can't believe John Doe got hit by a bus, because he always crossed at the corner. In fact, I'd hazard to say that UN-healthy people have a better chance of early diagnosis simply because they are more closely monitored. We ALL carry cancer in our bodies, it's just that most of the time our cells recognize it and kill it before it gets established. But sometimes, they don't.
I'm quite unsettled these days, also I'm feeling a teensy bit morbid in that I'm keeping a close eye on the folks I know who are terminal. And feeling guilty for it, because I'm finding the process fascinating. Our culture so poorly prepares us for death - from our own perspective or for the deaths of our loved ones. It is the elephant in the room. No matter what you believe, death is treated with an aura of finality that is almost dismissive. We talk of carrying on, healing, and moving past the grief, sometimes even before the loved one has passed. And we discuss settling accounts, making peace, and burying the hatchet if we are the one dying. And what about the age old question, is it better to know when you are going to die or have it come out of the blue with no warning?
And as humans are a curious lot, I ask, as most people do, "Why?" and I search for meaning in what I've already identified as a totally random event. I feel an obligation to glean some lesson from those who are facing a terminal diagnosis, as if doing so would give their passing some meaning. Will John Doe be gratified to know that having read his blog, I hugged my kids today? Does that make a dying person 'feel better?' Is this just a manifestation of 'survivors guilt?' You know, my 'new normal.'
I'm not sure if it is because of the stupid pink October, or the even stupider 'Movember'** but lately I've been seeing a lot of cancer. I feel surrounded by it. Friends, family, neighbors, acquaintances have all had bad news diagnoses rendered in the past little while. People who I have been following by blog have succumbed, new blogs are constantly popping up as recommended reading for me and a good many of them are Stage 4 folks.
** As an aside, my beef with Movember is: Why make your face look like a vagina in order to bring awareness to men's health???? Well, and I hate mustaches/beards. But I digress....
I'm trying to figure out how I feel about this because I don't feel right. I'm quite disturbed by it and I'm not sure if what I'm feeling is part of my new normal (being hypersensitive to cancer?) or just a result of the amount of bad news I've heard. We all feel that twinge of there-but-for-the-grace-of-God when we hear of someone else's misfortunes, but having been struck once really brings it home. And having had it doesn't protect me from having it again... like chicken pox would. So when I hear that someone else has cancer, it disturbs me in a hey-it-could-be-me-again way, as well as an another-one-bites-the-dust kind of way. I know what surgery and chemo is like. Thinking about others going through it is saddening. Sure, it's doable, but it sucks.
The thing about cancer is that it is really so very random. Sure there are risk factors, but how many times have you heard someone say something to the effect of "I can't believe Jane Doe got cancer! She exercised, and didn't smoke and was really healthy! Who would have though she'd get it?" Which is kind of like saying you can't believe John Doe got hit by a bus, because he always crossed at the corner. In fact, I'd hazard to say that UN-healthy people have a better chance of early diagnosis simply because they are more closely monitored. We ALL carry cancer in our bodies, it's just that most of the time our cells recognize it and kill it before it gets established. But sometimes, they don't.
I'm quite unsettled these days, also I'm feeling a teensy bit morbid in that I'm keeping a close eye on the folks I know who are terminal. And feeling guilty for it, because I'm finding the process fascinating. Our culture so poorly prepares us for death - from our own perspective or for the deaths of our loved ones. It is the elephant in the room. No matter what you believe, death is treated with an aura of finality that is almost dismissive. We talk of carrying on, healing, and moving past the grief, sometimes even before the loved one has passed. And we discuss settling accounts, making peace, and burying the hatchet if we are the one dying. And what about the age old question, is it better to know when you are going to die or have it come out of the blue with no warning?
And as humans are a curious lot, I ask, as most people do, "Why?" and I search for meaning in what I've already identified as a totally random event. I feel an obligation to glean some lesson from those who are facing a terminal diagnosis, as if doing so would give their passing some meaning. Will John Doe be gratified to know that having read his blog, I hugged my kids today? Does that make a dying person 'feel better?' Is this just a manifestation of 'survivors guilt?' You know, my 'new normal.'
25 October 2013
The Gift That Keeps On Giving
One of the 'best' things cancer gave me was the ability to say NO. A big part of my ‘job’ is how I contribute to my community. The year I was in treatment and the year after, I was pretty good about not getting roped into stuff that stressed me out. That is, I didn't do stuff at which I sucked. When I added back my volunteer commitments, I was pretty choosy about the stuff I took on, focusing on things where my talents could be applied or things I enjoyed. It occurs to me this morning that I've fallen away from that.
I am feeling less in control than when I had cancer. Actually, I am totally out of control, as is evidenced by the fact I just ate 8 chocolate mini-cupcakes for breakfast. No, really, I’m not exaggerating. And I did this because I am dreading my day, and I am dreading my day because I volunteered to drive for a kid field trip, which is probably my second least favorite thing to do, right after public speaking at a correctional institution.
So how did I get roped into this? A combination of things. First, being a stay at home mom, I carry a lot of guilt, feeling as though I could always do more and I need to shoulder the load for moms who would LOVE to go on a field trip but have to work instead. Second, when my kid asked me to do this, it was far enough away (a whole month) to seem like a good idea. And third, my head-med makes me kind of numb to my true feelings about doing something like this, which is a combination of panic, dread and distaste.
Don’t get me wrong, I often volunteer at the kids' school, but in the capacity I enjoy with things that play to my strengths - organization, creative stuff and things that need a warm body but very little interaction. (Room-parent, the teacher work-room, hanging art, extra eyes on the playground.)
The other big part of my ‘job’ is making the trains run on time in my house. That means my family has what they need to do their jobs, (clean clothes to wear, food in their bellies, toilet paper and batteries, and light and heat because I paid the bills.) And when I do my job well everything goes smoothly and when I fall down on the job all hell breaks loose, and when I am marginally managing, as I have been for quite a while, everybody gets what they need except me. And that is where I find myself today - eating junk food as comfort and getting ready to drive five 9-year-olds to a Native American village.
As time passes, the cancer fades to a blip on my radar screen of life. I was fortunate that it turned out to be as inconsequential as it did. Yes, I miss my boobs, but in the big picture, I’m pretty healthy. And now, for me to make my cancer ‘count’, I feel like I need to hold on to the lessons it taught me. I’m gonna have to get back to just saying no. I’m gonna have to believe that I am stronger than I feel at any given moment, (and especially that I am stronger than <insert junk food here>.) And that I am capable of tolerating discomfort. Chemo definitely sucks more than running, and I was able to make it through that, so a run/walk isn’t going to kill me. If I take better care of me, I will be better able to meet my obligations. My community and family will benefit.
Some changes I will make as we move into the new year:
I will not take a class next semester. I'm taking a break from the self-induced 4.0 GPA pressure.
We will wrap up the livingroom-project-from-hell and take a breather from home improvement.
I will work on getting into a good routine for me - bed earlier, up earlier, making the whole family eat healthier food, and exercise together and individually.
I'll be making time for my creative pursuits - writing, reading, crafts, cooking.
More family fun - games, trips, experiences
18 June 2013
Sex with your Pants On
In one of the paleo books I've read, 'sex with your pants on' is the term that describes eating to the letter of the law but not the spirit. Since one of the missions of the book is to break me of my bad psychological relationship with food, the idea that making a 'paleo pizza' or 'paleo chocolate cake' is contraindicated. If you can't live without it, you MUST live without it.
I fell off the paleo wagon and have been eating sugar, (always) grains, (recently) and even some (gasp!) cheese/dairy. I must say that I had a rather indulgent sandwich at First Watch over the weekend. The special was artichoke tapenade with turkey and cream cheese. It was really over the top, but I kept eating it. Within two hours I was lightheaded, followed by headachy, nauseas, and generally flu-ish. I felt pretty bad all day but the kicker was that by the time evening rolled around, my lymphedema was apparent. Just in my left hand, where I had it before I started this whole anti-inflammation dietary adventure. It was somewhat of a wake-up call.
But my foray into sandwich-land has left me feeling that I'm missing out. For a long time, I did not miss grains, bread, cheese etc. And while I really do like beans, I can live without them and all other legumes. But now I want to eat sandwiches so I'm thinking about sex with my pants on.
Last Thanksgiving I did quite a few paleo friendly options, including a paleo dressing made with an almond flour bread I'd baked the day before. The paleo bread tends to be a little flat and dry, but it's kind of ciabatta shaped which would work in both texture and shape for some pretty awesome paninis (sans cheese.) I think I'd enjoy that, and at this point I don't have the emotional energy to worry about whether I'd enjoy it too much.
For me, crossfit and eating paleo is less about the cult and more about what works for me. I've seen significant effects from cutting out certain compounds in my diet. I'd like to work in some whole grains but frankly they make me feel bad. And don't get me started about the dairy and legumes. Cheese is yummy, but bloating and gas is not.
And as far as the crossfit goes, yes, I do know it can be cultish, and there are many critics. The loudest calls are about inadequate coaching in spite of a valiant attempt otherwise. Teaching someone Olympic lifts is a long and arduous process, and if one instructor is overseeing 15 people in one class that means at any one time, 14 of them are not being watched/coached. But I take personal responsibility for my goals and progress. What that means to me is: when the board says deadlifts at 85 pounds, I do 60. I went hard at it last fall and it was psychologically difficult. I began dreading going and I experienced a nasty level of anxiety. This time around, I'm building up slower and taking my time. My results are not as good as last fall but I'm feeling better about the whole endeavor. I have days when I am sore, I sweat and fatigue during classes, but it doesn't totally kill me. I don't expect to get anything more out of it than I put into it, and I'm ok with that.
My ability to balance a little better I completely attribute to my Effexor. It evens out more than just my mood. Things don't bug me as much and I don't get as passionate/excited about stuff. And for now I'm ok with that too.
In one of the paleo books I've read, 'sex with your pants on' is the term that describes eating to the letter of the law but not the spirit. Since one of the missions of the book is to break me of my bad psychological relationship with food, the idea that making a 'paleo pizza' or 'paleo chocolate cake' is contraindicated. If you can't live without it, you MUST live without it.
I fell off the paleo wagon and have been eating sugar, (always) grains, (recently) and even some (gasp!) cheese/dairy. I must say that I had a rather indulgent sandwich at First Watch over the weekend. The special was artichoke tapenade with turkey and cream cheese. It was really over the top, but I kept eating it. Within two hours I was lightheaded, followed by headachy, nauseas, and generally flu-ish. I felt pretty bad all day but the kicker was that by the time evening rolled around, my lymphedema was apparent. Just in my left hand, where I had it before I started this whole anti-inflammation dietary adventure. It was somewhat of a wake-up call.
But my foray into sandwich-land has left me feeling that I'm missing out. For a long time, I did not miss grains, bread, cheese etc. And while I really do like beans, I can live without them and all other legumes. But now I want to eat sandwiches so I'm thinking about sex with my pants on.
Last Thanksgiving I did quite a few paleo friendly options, including a paleo dressing made with an almond flour bread I'd baked the day before. The paleo bread tends to be a little flat and dry, but it's kind of ciabatta shaped which would work in both texture and shape for some pretty awesome paninis (sans cheese.) I think I'd enjoy that, and at this point I don't have the emotional energy to worry about whether I'd enjoy it too much.
For me, crossfit and eating paleo is less about the cult and more about what works for me. I've seen significant effects from cutting out certain compounds in my diet. I'd like to work in some whole grains but frankly they make me feel bad. And don't get me started about the dairy and legumes. Cheese is yummy, but bloating and gas is not.
And as far as the crossfit goes, yes, I do know it can be cultish, and there are many critics. The loudest calls are about inadequate coaching in spite of a valiant attempt otherwise. Teaching someone Olympic lifts is a long and arduous process, and if one instructor is overseeing 15 people in one class that means at any one time, 14 of them are not being watched/coached. But I take personal responsibility for my goals and progress. What that means to me is: when the board says deadlifts at 85 pounds, I do 60. I went hard at it last fall and it was psychologically difficult. I began dreading going and I experienced a nasty level of anxiety. This time around, I'm building up slower and taking my time. My results are not as good as last fall but I'm feeling better about the whole endeavor. I have days when I am sore, I sweat and fatigue during classes, but it doesn't totally kill me. I don't expect to get anything more out of it than I put into it, and I'm ok with that.
My ability to balance a little better I completely attribute to my Effexor. It evens out more than just my mood. Things don't bug me as much and I don't get as passionate/excited about stuff. And for now I'm ok with that too.
9 June 2013
Eleven Wonderful Things About My Eleven-Year-Old
In honor of M's birthday (two days ago) I would like to share some things about her.
In honor of M's birthday (two days ago) I would like to share some things about her.
- When she wakes up early in the morning and wants her Daddy to get up she'll bring him a cup of coffee, hold it in front of his face and blow the aroma at him.
- She has sense of style that is all girl and all her own. We have no fashion magazines in this house, I am not one to 'do' her hair, I spent the majority of her young life wearing sweats and a t-shirt, yet at two and a half, she wouldn't wear any clothes unless they were purple and when she was in kindergarten she asked me to put her hair in a ponytail and leave 'wispies' (tendrils?) out around her face.
- She is an extremely adventurous eater, eager to try different, new foods. Thanks to this, she has tried foods like crab ravioli and Peking duck soup. She started ordering off the adult menu when she was six or seven. The waiters/waitresses are almost always surprised at her interesting food choices.
- She learns quickly and retains the lesson. When she was three she got in N's face, and the baby didn't like it so she aimed the two or three teeth she had and lunged, taking a chunk out of M's forehead. She still has a faint scar and has been wary of her sister ever since.
- She is extremely empathetic. It pains her to see others in pain or struggling. Because of this, she is more apt to reach out to others and as she matures, she's developing a sense of service that is admirable.
- She has some natural talent, but even more importantly, she works hard to cultivate what she has. At first I just thought she was good at everything, but she's not. Instead she excels at the many things she enjoys pursuing because she understands that there's very little point in doing something poorly. It's important to her to do well, for her own sake.
- She's brave. M is not physically confident, probably a result of being the first kid. (Don't climb, you'll break your neck!) In spite of this, she regularly goes outside her comfort zone to seek new experiences.
- She's a peacemaker. She gets along with many different people and often bridges the gap between social groups. She's learning the art of how to pick her battles and she prefers to be an influential supporter rather than the center of attention.
- She likes mustaches. I don't get it, but I like that about her.
- She has a very rich imagination and spends a good deal of time in her own head. This can sometimes be a source of frustration for both her and me, but because she is a deep thinker, she tends to grasp the theory behind concepts. If she is thinking about something, she cannot be rushed off her train of thought. She needs to follow it to the end in order to move on to something else.
- She's able to laugh at herself. One of her favorite pastimes is having Dan or me relate funny stories about the silly things she did when she was younger. And even now she's developing the grace to laugh off her foibles.
22 May 2013
An Up- (and 1/2 inch down-) -date
For the past year or so I have noticed that my right eye droops a bit. It's not noticeable, and even after I pointed it out to Dan the first few times he said he couldn't really see it. But it's been getting worse in the past month or two and today the whole upper right quadrant of my face slid down about a quarter to half inch.
My vision is slightly affected and my right eyebrow is now a good quarter to half inch lower than my left. Everyone has asymmetry in their faces, but this is a little more than that. N said she couldn't see it when I was lying down, so I have that going for me, but if there is gravity involved, the right side of my forehead looks like it's had a shot of Botox.
My doc said she hadn't seen a case of Bell's Palsy in about three years, but she's had four cases in the past two weeks, leading her to believe that a weird trigger virus is present in the community. I was sick last week, so it's possible it was this mystery virus. My doc also serves a mostly elderly clientele, which would make sense that this somewhat compromised segment fell prey to it. My kids and Dan did not get the same thing that I did, and I'm still fighting it, (although it could arguably be allergies.) But having googled the Bell's Palsy/Chemotherapy link, as well as knowing I'm still somewhat compromised myself, I'm on board with my doc's theory that I have a mild case of Bell's Palsy happening.
Now I'm glad my eyebrows never really returned. Because they would look really stupid being a half inch off kilter.
I also talked to my doc about the weird muscle spasms I've been getting and she says it's totally the Tamoxifen. Only three and a half more years of that.....
I started Crossfit again a couple of weeks ago and it is helping me sleep a little more. I'm still hovering about six hours on a good night, but I can do that without an Ambien now, instead of three or four hours.
Just for giggles Dan and I plugged in all of my meds to the drug interaction checker and we now know that the reason I black out like I'm on a bad bender when I take Ambien is the Effexor. Dan says the other night he had to push me over like a sack of potatoes when I encroached on his bed territory and although he moved my butt, head and feet separately and contorted me in the process, I barely woke up, grinned at him and went right back to sawing logs. I lose consciousness before I fall asleep and can't remember anything from about thirty minutes after I take the pill until I wake up five or six hours later. Nice.
I start school next week. The kids finish school the first week of June. Not sure how THAT'S gonna work....
2 May 2013
Coming Clean
I'm looking pretty good these days. After dropping from sight for all of last year, and laying pretty low this year, I'm seeing more people and everyone asks how I am and says I look great. I always say that I'm feeling great, but you know what? I'm not.
Last June I started eating an elimination diet focused on removing compounds that my body doesn't like. The majority of these are preservatives and flavorings, weird chemical thickeners and emulsifiers found in commercially prepared processed foods, and some food groups.
My guidance came from a book called "It Starts With Food" which promotes what has erroneously been called the caveman diet, the paleo diet and/or the no carb diet. The premise is that we've only been agrarians for about 10,000 years, and our bodies haven't adapted to the high carb load that grain and legume crops provide. Additionally, there are some compounds in these plants that produce an inflammatory response in the body. Likewise, dairy is full of inflammatory compounds as well. The basis of this diet is not don't eat _______ or _________. Instead, it's eat meat, fish, nuts, eggs, vegetables and fruits for optimum health. I did that for a while and I felt pretty good. Yes, I know that cavemen did not eat strawberries in December. And they didn't have grass fed ghee. That's not the point. Use basic foods and make things from scratch, eschewing processed foods, industrially raised meats and foods that irritate our bodies.
Before reading the caveman book, I had been watching a lot of different food documentaries. I also have a friend who is a raw vegan who writes a blog and I had been reading some her stuff. And then there is Michael Pollan's books, particularly Food Rules. And the China Study, given to me by my sister when my cancer was diagnosed. So all of these studies, books, articles and diets have conflicting premises.
So while I do love me some naturally raised uncured bacon, I do have to admit that bacon is probably not the thing to eat for optimal health. (The caveman book says so too.) But what about meat in general? I have friends who have sworn off meat and they feel great. I myself ate no meat of fish for 4 or 5 years before I got pregnant, succumbing to wild hamburger cravings while Miriam was busy depleting my nutrients. I ate more burgers in 9 months than I did the previous 15 years. I've been eating paleo-ish for about ten months, but now I need to honestly look at where my diet stands and I must admit I'm not where I'd like to be.
Sugar has crept back into my diet and stayed there. I've tried to kick that monkey several times and failed. And I'm in a free-for-all free-fall, having indulged in the past month in sweeteners, grains, dairy, beans, bread, alcohol, cookies and OMG - PIZZA - you name it, I'm eating it. And my weight is creeping up and I feel lousy and I need to just get off this ride and start over. (I kind of knew I'd thrown in the towel when I ate the pizza.)
But I'm unsure if I want to go back to the meat, veggie, fruit thing. (For me, with my sugar addiction, I should probably skip the fruit.) I'm thinking if I add in something like quinoa, I can reduce the amount of meat we are eating. I don't think I want to go back to the bloat of beans and rice, but by keeping dairy and most grains and legumes out of my diet, I'm thinking I can get back to where I was and feel pretty good again.
Mentally I'm feeling ok, but going to school (just like going to Crossfit last fall) is taking more emotional energy than I had thought it would. I'm hoping that reducing my credits this summer will help me get back on track in other areas in my life, like exercise, and diet discipline, and not running out of toilet paper.
Dan says I need to learn to balance and quit trying to do everything 100%, (which means I do some things 100% and somethings 0%) and instead focus on doing most things at 60-75%, and do a lot more things passably rather than some things well and others not at all. I really don't like that idea. I'm kind of an all-or-nothing person. Why do something if you have to half-ass it? So when I started school, the guidelines all said expect to do 3 hours of homework for every hour of class. I took 10 credits this semester. That's 10 hours of class plus 30 hours of homework per week, or the equivalent of a 40 hour a week job. I kind of got off easy, in that my beginning courses were not that difficult and I'm pretty smart, but I still did between 20 and 30 hours per week total. And barring unforeseen brain-farts next week during finals, I should probably have two A's and a B. I'm not sure I want to go to school if I can't do it well.
So where did I get all this time? I stopped exercising. (I actually stopped in November when I slid into depression.) I used to walk an hour or two every day and go to Crossfit twice a week. I mostly sit on my ass now. And I stopped obsessing about administering the house, running out of toilet paper for the first time in a dozen years, or coffee, or milk, or bread. And putting together teacher gifts and other volunteer stuff like that. These days, I can barely get a check to the person who is in charge by the deadline. I used to be the person in charge, calling people to get their damn checks in. And the kids are still in school. I'm not sure how it's going to work this summer when they are out and turning to me like I'm some kind of cruise director.
I'm not where I need to be mentally to get back on track yet, but I am getting closer. And I'm sorry to say it has to be an all-or-nothing, cold-turkey program for me because that's how I roll.
I'm looking pretty good these days. After dropping from sight for all of last year, and laying pretty low this year, I'm seeing more people and everyone asks how I am and says I look great. I always say that I'm feeling great, but you know what? I'm not.
Last June I started eating an elimination diet focused on removing compounds that my body doesn't like. The majority of these are preservatives and flavorings, weird chemical thickeners and emulsifiers found in commercially prepared processed foods, and some food groups.
My guidance came from a book called "It Starts With Food" which promotes what has erroneously been called the caveman diet, the paleo diet and/or the no carb diet. The premise is that we've only been agrarians for about 10,000 years, and our bodies haven't adapted to the high carb load that grain and legume crops provide. Additionally, there are some compounds in these plants that produce an inflammatory response in the body. Likewise, dairy is full of inflammatory compounds as well. The basis of this diet is not don't eat _______ or _________. Instead, it's eat meat, fish, nuts, eggs, vegetables and fruits for optimum health. I did that for a while and I felt pretty good. Yes, I know that cavemen did not eat strawberries in December. And they didn't have grass fed ghee. That's not the point. Use basic foods and make things from scratch, eschewing processed foods, industrially raised meats and foods that irritate our bodies.
Before reading the caveman book, I had been watching a lot of different food documentaries. I also have a friend who is a raw vegan who writes a blog and I had been reading some her stuff. And then there is Michael Pollan's books, particularly Food Rules. And the China Study, given to me by my sister when my cancer was diagnosed. So all of these studies, books, articles and diets have conflicting premises.
So while I do love me some naturally raised uncured bacon, I do have to admit that bacon is probably not the thing to eat for optimal health. (The caveman book says so too.) But what about meat in general? I have friends who have sworn off meat and they feel great. I myself ate no meat of fish for 4 or 5 years before I got pregnant, succumbing to wild hamburger cravings while Miriam was busy depleting my nutrients. I ate more burgers in 9 months than I did the previous 15 years. I've been eating paleo-ish for about ten months, but now I need to honestly look at where my diet stands and I must admit I'm not where I'd like to be.
Sugar has crept back into my diet and stayed there. I've tried to kick that monkey several times and failed. And I'm in a free-for-all free-fall, having indulged in the past month in sweeteners, grains, dairy, beans, bread, alcohol, cookies and OMG - PIZZA - you name it, I'm eating it. And my weight is creeping up and I feel lousy and I need to just get off this ride and start over. (I kind of knew I'd thrown in the towel when I ate the pizza.)
But I'm unsure if I want to go back to the meat, veggie, fruit thing. (For me, with my sugar addiction, I should probably skip the fruit.) I'm thinking if I add in something like quinoa, I can reduce the amount of meat we are eating. I don't think I want to go back to the bloat of beans and rice, but by keeping dairy and most grains and legumes out of my diet, I'm thinking I can get back to where I was and feel pretty good again.
Mentally I'm feeling ok, but going to school (just like going to Crossfit last fall) is taking more emotional energy than I had thought it would. I'm hoping that reducing my credits this summer will help me get back on track in other areas in my life, like exercise, and diet discipline, and not running out of toilet paper.
Dan says I need to learn to balance and quit trying to do everything 100%, (which means I do some things 100% and somethings 0%) and instead focus on doing most things at 60-75%, and do a lot more things passably rather than some things well and others not at all. I really don't like that idea. I'm kind of an all-or-nothing person. Why do something if you have to half-ass it? So when I started school, the guidelines all said expect to do 3 hours of homework for every hour of class. I took 10 credits this semester. That's 10 hours of class plus 30 hours of homework per week, or the equivalent of a 40 hour a week job. I kind of got off easy, in that my beginning courses were not that difficult and I'm pretty smart, but I still did between 20 and 30 hours per week total. And barring unforeseen brain-farts next week during finals, I should probably have two A's and a B. I'm not sure I want to go to school if I can't do it well.
So where did I get all this time? I stopped exercising. (I actually stopped in November when I slid into depression.) I used to walk an hour or two every day and go to Crossfit twice a week. I mostly sit on my ass now. And I stopped obsessing about administering the house, running out of toilet paper for the first time in a dozen years, or coffee, or milk, or bread. And putting together teacher gifts and other volunteer stuff like that. These days, I can barely get a check to the person who is in charge by the deadline. I used to be the person in charge, calling people to get their damn checks in. And the kids are still in school. I'm not sure how it's going to work this summer when they are out and turning to me like I'm some kind of cruise director.
I'm not where I need to be mentally to get back on track yet, but I am getting closer. And I'm sorry to say it has to be an all-or-nothing, cold-turkey program for me because that's how I roll.
19 April 2013
My Thoughts on Boston
I am mulling the ramifications of illegal search and seizure. Specifically, routine surveillance. Without it, it is possible we'd never have found the Boston bombers. But does it compromise our rights to privacy? And if so, is it worth it?
Being on the right side of the law in most instances, and being white, I don't feel the effects of racial profiling, stop and frisk programs, and illegal search and seizure via surveillance. I suppose if I were a citizen concerned about the government taking away my rights I would be more leery of this. What I fear more is corporate interests dictating legislation that directly affects me and my family - big pharma pushing drugs for symptoms instead of cures for illnesses, the industrial food complex pushing franken-food, (including weird feeds that cows really shouldn't be eating,) and lobbying groups that affect public policy (don't get me started on the NRA - 90% of Americans support background checks but the senate thinks they can better represent the people by listening to the mouthpiece of gun manufacturers.)
I must say that in a world where common courtesy, the sanctity of real live people and stuff that makes sense is diminished, I really don't mind having someone looking over my shoulder to help ensure folks toe the line.
For people who think surveillance is the beginning of the end - the folks who invoke Nazi comparisons and selectively quote both the bible and the constitution to support their arguments, there is nothing anyone can say or do to convince them that oversight is good. I worry about how this Boston episode will trouble them. I wish there were something that could be said to put their minds at ease.
In the meantime, I am comforted by the tools that law enforcement now uses to monitor this type of illegal activity and bring swift closure to these episodes.
15 April 2013
Spring has Sprung?
Spring is in the air, finally! It's not that we had a hard winter, but it was long. Or as I heard someone remark, "Winter wasn't long, but spring sure was cold!" Now that we seem to have turned the corner, there is a change I can feel all over town. People are absolutely in better moods, friendlier and everyone seems to have let out a collective sigh or relief. Last year spoiled us. It was so warm and there was so little snow that every time it snowed this year folks reacted as though we live in Florida or something. Get over it! We live in Ohio and winter lives!
I am wrapping up my first semester of school in over 25 years and it has gone well. I've been a little stressed trying to balance everything, but all in all I was able to handle the work, (my biggest concern,) and although I let my fitness sorely slide, I feel as though I can restart that now that the weather is cooperating. It will be good for me to get out walking again, which goes a long way towards helping my sanity, my sleep and my fitness. I'm all about multitasking these days so that's a good thing to kill those three birds with one stone.
Dan and I have been spending some time gardening, and looking at the maintenance we need to do this year. We are putting some things off, and others we are doing ourselves instead of hiring others to do the work. Dan is affected by the sequestration, so he will have a little extra time, and a pay cut this summer. We normally would have had a landscaper come in and do the spring clean up but a couple of days of work and we are almost finished. Besides, there is something I find incredibly therapeutic about recreational pruning. We are debating about the 7 yards of mulch. We have a huge yard with a ton of beds and 7 yards of mulch is really a crazy amount of mulch for two people to spread. Can we do without it? Maybe.
Aside from being able to enjoy the great outdoors, hiking, walking and gardening, there is one other thing we love about spring - SPRING CLEANING! No, not us, but everybody else who does it and then has a garage sale. Dan and I love going to the garage sales/estate sales around here. While the sales further out in the suburbs are full of items like espresso machines, fitness equipment and five year old decorating looks, the sales in and around Oakwood are usually items collected over a lifetime and well used, and to us, vintage.
A few years back we hit an interesting garage sale and we might have spent about $20 total. I know we got a few things, one being some of the old "Think Different" ad posters put out by Apple in the 90's. That was maybe $10, ($5? I can't remember.) I thought they would make a good birthday present for my nephew the programmer, and so when his birthday rolled around the following year I sent them to him. He was appreciative, but did not have the wall space in his current house so he squirreled them away. This week he pulled them out to get them framed to use in his new flat. He wanted to see if all the posters were there or if he should maybe look on ebay to finish the set. As it turns out, it is a full set of ten unframed in pristine condition. Worth $2500. Happy Birthday indeed! I guess this means I'll never find that elusive copy of the Declaration of Independence or some Picasso sketches. Lightning never strikes twice, right? Right?????
You can tell by the tone of this post that I'm quite positive these days. It helps that my kitchen is flooded by sunshine, I see the light at the end of the semester, and Dan and the kids cleared out of here this morning leaving me to to my thoughts and serenity. There is something magical about the first few minutes after they all leave - even if I have to rush off to school, drinking the rest of my morning beverage in silence, even just five minutes, is restorative.
Spring is in the air, finally! It's not that we had a hard winter, but it was long. Or as I heard someone remark, "Winter wasn't long, but spring sure was cold!" Now that we seem to have turned the corner, there is a change I can feel all over town. People are absolutely in better moods, friendlier and everyone seems to have let out a collective sigh or relief. Last year spoiled us. It was so warm and there was so little snow that every time it snowed this year folks reacted as though we live in Florida or something. Get over it! We live in Ohio and winter lives!
I am wrapping up my first semester of school in over 25 years and it has gone well. I've been a little stressed trying to balance everything, but all in all I was able to handle the work, (my biggest concern,) and although I let my fitness sorely slide, I feel as though I can restart that now that the weather is cooperating. It will be good for me to get out walking again, which goes a long way towards helping my sanity, my sleep and my fitness. I'm all about multitasking these days so that's a good thing to kill those three birds with one stone.
Dan and I have been spending some time gardening, and looking at the maintenance we need to do this year. We are putting some things off, and others we are doing ourselves instead of hiring others to do the work. Dan is affected by the sequestration, so he will have a little extra time, and a pay cut this summer. We normally would have had a landscaper come in and do the spring clean up but a couple of days of work and we are almost finished. Besides, there is something I find incredibly therapeutic about recreational pruning. We are debating about the 7 yards of mulch. We have a huge yard with a ton of beds and 7 yards of mulch is really a crazy amount of mulch for two people to spread. Can we do without it? Maybe.
Aside from being able to enjoy the great outdoors, hiking, walking and gardening, there is one other thing we love about spring - SPRING CLEANING! No, not us, but everybody else who does it and then has a garage sale. Dan and I love going to the garage sales/estate sales around here. While the sales further out in the suburbs are full of items like espresso machines, fitness equipment and five year old decorating looks, the sales in and around Oakwood are usually items collected over a lifetime and well used, and to us, vintage.
A few years back we hit an interesting garage sale and we might have spent about $20 total. I know we got a few things, one being some of the old "Think Different" ad posters put out by Apple in the 90's. That was maybe $10, ($5? I can't remember.) I thought they would make a good birthday present for my nephew the programmer, and so when his birthday rolled around the following year I sent them to him. He was appreciative, but did not have the wall space in his current house so he squirreled them away. This week he pulled them out to get them framed to use in his new flat. He wanted to see if all the posters were there or if he should maybe look on ebay to finish the set. As it turns out, it is a full set of ten unframed in pristine condition. Worth $2500. Happy Birthday indeed! I guess this means I'll never find that elusive copy of the Declaration of Independence or some Picasso sketches. Lightning never strikes twice, right? Right?????
You can tell by the tone of this post that I'm quite positive these days. It helps that my kitchen is flooded by sunshine, I see the light at the end of the semester, and Dan and the kids cleared out of here this morning leaving me to to my thoughts and serenity. There is something magical about the first few minutes after they all leave - even if I have to rush off to school, drinking the rest of my morning beverage in silence, even just five minutes, is restorative.
15 February 2013
Brain Cells
I started taking some prerequisites at a community college about 5 weeks ago. I have several observations to report.
Firstly, either standards have gone down or I've gotten much smarter in the past thirty years, because I'm finding I'm getting better marks now than I did the first time around. Which is counter-intuitive, especially with the lack of memory I've been experiencing since Chemotherapy.
Second, the type of people who go to school at a community college are not the same type of people who go to a major university. I chose my school because it had a certificate program in the discipline I wanted. But another school, a local four year university, had a similar program available as well. My community college was less than half the price of the university. This economic factor makes for a crowd of students looking to improve their lot in life through education, but with very limited resources. In the one class I have on campus, with actual other student that I see, (as opposed to my two online classes,) there are a handful of older students, (30's and 40's, like myself,) but the majority of the class are people in their 20's. None of the students strike me as traditional - just graduated from high school. Many of them come to class in their work uniforms, (fast food, nurses aids, grocery or retail,) and they juggle kids, jobs and other responsibilities. Many of them are overweight, which I interpret as a sign of lower economic status - only in America are the poor obese. (Although that is changing as we export our nutrition standards to the world... I'm looking at you, McDonald's and Coke.)
I'm not sure if it's my generation or my social class or just they way I was raised, but I come to class prepared. I have my book, something to write on, something to write with, etc. The class starts at 9 and goes until 10:50. I arrive at 8:40 or so and leave after the instructor has finished the class. Out of about 36 people in the class, twenty wander in and out, arriving anywhere from 9 to 9:45 and leaving anywhere from 10 to 10:50. Several people have left during class to answer their phones. The instructor has given us a syllabus with clear deadlines for when homework and make-up tests are due, which most of these people take as suggestions. Often he will be there when I arrive, early, waiting for a student to come in to take a make-up test and they won't show up. I don't get it.
Another observation. My guilty pleasure these days is listening to the pop radio station. It's called 99.9 and is part of the I (Heart) Radio network. This is the type of station that has a syndicated morning program that comes out of New York and consists of a bunch of loud, obnoxious DJ's who make fun of everything. I like the music, but the DJ banter makes my skin crawl. I was listening for about 30 seconds when I hopped in the car the first week I started school and I believe I actually got stupider from that limited morning exposure. So when I drive to school, I switch to NPR, which everyone knows makes you smarter. Then when I come home I punch it back to 99.9 for my daily dose of Pink.
Dan says he thinks I'm doing great adjusting to my new schedule, but I feel I'm having some difficulty making everything work these days. My mood is more even but I haven't been able to get any regular exercise. I'm still getting used to my head med, and it disrupts my sleep so I'm tired most days. I don't have very much wherewithal and most of it is being spent on the 20 - 30 hours per week I'm doing classes and schoolwork. I'm still cooking a lot but the house is a mess. The other day I had to ride the vacuum around to corral the dust buffaloes.
The biggest change has got to be the Effexor I'm on. I rarely blow up, I don't feel the anxiety and frustration I had a month ago, and I don't scream at the kids anymore. That's good for everyone. But I wish I could sleep like a normal person.
I started taking some prerequisites at a community college about 5 weeks ago. I have several observations to report.
Firstly, either standards have gone down or I've gotten much smarter in the past thirty years, because I'm finding I'm getting better marks now than I did the first time around. Which is counter-intuitive, especially with the lack of memory I've been experiencing since Chemotherapy.
Second, the type of people who go to school at a community college are not the same type of people who go to a major university. I chose my school because it had a certificate program in the discipline I wanted. But another school, a local four year university, had a similar program available as well. My community college was less than half the price of the university. This economic factor makes for a crowd of students looking to improve their lot in life through education, but with very limited resources. In the one class I have on campus, with actual other student that I see, (as opposed to my two online classes,) there are a handful of older students, (30's and 40's, like myself,) but the majority of the class are people in their 20's. None of the students strike me as traditional - just graduated from high school. Many of them come to class in their work uniforms, (fast food, nurses aids, grocery or retail,) and they juggle kids, jobs and other responsibilities. Many of them are overweight, which I interpret as a sign of lower economic status - only in America are the poor obese. (Although that is changing as we export our nutrition standards to the world... I'm looking at you, McDonald's and Coke.)
I'm not sure if it's my generation or my social class or just they way I was raised, but I come to class prepared. I have my book, something to write on, something to write with, etc. The class starts at 9 and goes until 10:50. I arrive at 8:40 or so and leave after the instructor has finished the class. Out of about 36 people in the class, twenty wander in and out, arriving anywhere from 9 to 9:45 and leaving anywhere from 10 to 10:50. Several people have left during class to answer their phones. The instructor has given us a syllabus with clear deadlines for when homework and make-up tests are due, which most of these people take as suggestions. Often he will be there when I arrive, early, waiting for a student to come in to take a make-up test and they won't show up. I don't get it.
Another observation. My guilty pleasure these days is listening to the pop radio station. It's called 99.9 and is part of the I (Heart) Radio network. This is the type of station that has a syndicated morning program that comes out of New York and consists of a bunch of loud, obnoxious DJ's who make fun of everything. I like the music, but the DJ banter makes my skin crawl. I was listening for about 30 seconds when I hopped in the car the first week I started school and I believe I actually got stupider from that limited morning exposure. So when I drive to school, I switch to NPR, which everyone knows makes you smarter. Then when I come home I punch it back to 99.9 for my daily dose of Pink.
Dan says he thinks I'm doing great adjusting to my new schedule, but I feel I'm having some difficulty making everything work these days. My mood is more even but I haven't been able to get any regular exercise. I'm still getting used to my head med, and it disrupts my sleep so I'm tired most days. I don't have very much wherewithal and most of it is being spent on the 20 - 30 hours per week I'm doing classes and schoolwork. I'm still cooking a lot but the house is a mess. The other day I had to ride the vacuum around to corral the dust buffaloes.
The biggest change has got to be the Effexor I'm on. I rarely blow up, I don't feel the anxiety and frustration I had a month ago, and I don't scream at the kids anymore. That's good for everyone. But I wish I could sleep like a normal person.
7 February 2013
An Anniversary, of Sorts.
Today is the anniversary of my divorce. I often think of this as an important turning point in my adult life. It was the last break with my youth, as I met my first husband while still in my teens and stuck with him until my thirties.
When I finally broke free of the influence of my youth, I started to finish the work of becoming me. I had been bound by certain conventions through my twenties, which I upended once I hit my thirties. I became more independent, more interested in the world around me and more socially and politically conscious. My values shifted from immature things to more serious concerns. My goals changed as the focus stretched from short to long term. And I stopped being so hard and developed some softness.
I have been spending a little time lately looking for lost classmates. It is my 30th high school reunion this coming summer, and a few brave souls (not me!) have taken on the task of putting something together. When I started this endeavor I couldn't name more than a dozen people with whom I graduated. Now that I have dug out some yearbooks and photo albums, a few more are crystallizing. It's interesting for me to look back on some of my artifacts from that era and see how different I was.
This indulgence in nostalgia and narcissism is well timed for me. I am currently in the throes of re-making myself again. My foray back to school, my thinking ahead to re-entering the workforce, my recent trip to crazytown and subsequent choice to medicate are all combining to produce a different emotional state than I've been living in for the past several years. I had been treading water, (just keep swimming....) but now I feel as though I am finally growing again.
Today is the anniversary of my divorce. I often think of this as an important turning point in my adult life. It was the last break with my youth, as I met my first husband while still in my teens and stuck with him until my thirties.
When I finally broke free of the influence of my youth, I started to finish the work of becoming me. I had been bound by certain conventions through my twenties, which I upended once I hit my thirties. I became more independent, more interested in the world around me and more socially and politically conscious. My values shifted from immature things to more serious concerns. My goals changed as the focus stretched from short to long term. And I stopped being so hard and developed some softness.
I have been spending a little time lately looking for lost classmates. It is my 30th high school reunion this coming summer, and a few brave souls (not me!) have taken on the task of putting something together. When I started this endeavor I couldn't name more than a dozen people with whom I graduated. Now that I have dug out some yearbooks and photo albums, a few more are crystallizing. It's interesting for me to look back on some of my artifacts from that era and see how different I was.
This indulgence in nostalgia and narcissism is well timed for me. I am currently in the throes of re-making myself again. My foray back to school, my thinking ahead to re-entering the workforce, my recent trip to crazytown and subsequent choice to medicate are all combining to produce a different emotional state than I've been living in for the past several years. I had been treading water, (just keep swimming....) but now I feel as though I am finally growing again.
12 January 2013
Crazytown Called, Time to See My Doc.
This week I went over the edge to Crazytown. I have certain criteria I look out for when I’m not feeling myself and thankfully I have a window of opportunity for self-correction. When I hit a certain level of crazy, I’m not quite so crazy that I can’t recognize it.
So I went to see my internist, and she prescribed me the head med with the least chance of diminished Tamoxifen efficacy. As I’m getting slowly spun up to a decent dosage, I feel almost immediate relief. It’s too soon for the drugs to be kicking in, but making the decision to seek help has lowered my anxiety. It’s not too soon for the side effects to start - insomnia, yawning, headache and nausea. I’ll be taking it easy for the next few weeks as my mood levels out and hope to do more when it does.
I resisted seeking help for a long time. I’ve been battling the blues for a while and as Dan can tell you, I’ve been on the edge of Crazytown for a few months, (at least.) Depression is common in cancer patients. I didn’t know how common until I started doing the research into what drugs I could take. It’s a fine line for doctors to walk when dealing with it. They don’t want to plant the seeds so they don’t mention it to patients, and instead obliquely screen for it during check-ups. But I would think that for someone like me with a well documented history of depression, screening would be more vigilant. In fact, I would have appreciated a heads up. Sure, people expected me to be depressed during treatment, but once that was over, I felt as though I didn’t have the “right” to be depressed. I was one of the ‘lucky‘ ones who had a textbook case with a good outcome. What do I have to be depressed about?
This could just be my normal cycle. My depression ebbs and flows in large cyclical patterns. I hit rock bottom every two? three? four? years. Even when medicated I can feel a slight difference, so when I stopped my head med last January there was a pretty good chance I’d relapse. Or this could be caused by any number of treatments I’ve undergone in the past year. Major surgery. Chemotherapy. Hormone Therapy. Drug induced menopause. Or it could be a reaction to the emotional hits I’ve taken having been sick and suffered the loss of major body parts.
In the past six months, when I did mention it to my internist, my oncologist and my therapist, I actually got a little push-back in the form of “it’s the weather/season” “it’s the holidays” etc. I actually stopped seeing my therapist. I needed a break. We don’t seem to be making significant progress. I’m not sure if it’s her or me. (Probably me.) Both doc’s were ok with prescribing something, but with the caveat that there would be negative consequences with my Tamoxifen. I did finally find a study pointing to a drug I had taken in the past and had mild success on. It’s not what I would normally take for my depression, but the interaction with the Tamoxifen is minimal and I feel it’s the right answer for me now. So I sit here with a nagging headache and wait to feel better.
Depression is insidious. It creeps in slowly enough so as to be undetectable. I’ve felt ‘off‘ for a number of months, but I wanted to tough it out. I was pretty pleased with the way I handled the whole cancer thing, and I figured if I could handle that, I could handle a little depression. But of course that’s the crazy talking. I’ve said it before... once you are crazy, there’s no way to judge how crazy you are and then you run the risk of thinking you are normal. I’ve battled this long enough to have a failsafe in place. I hit it on Wednesday. ‘Nuff said.
There have been grumblings in the past month or so about opening new discussions regarding mental health in this country. We are unquestionably careening off the path but I can’t help but think that all the medical science in the world will do little to correct our trajectory. I recently read an article that stated that we have replaced joy or happiness with comfort. (Sorry I can’t cite the article, I can't find it again.) This makes so much sense to me. Comfort is a big house filled with junk that’s supposed to make me feel comfortable. Devices that keep me entertained, ergonomic chairs and lots of clothes and jewelry, art and specialized gadgets to make my life easier, climate control and filters and humidifiers and dehumidifiers and of course tons and tons of organizers to help manage it all.
Retail therapy is at an all time high, but what people don’t realize is that it’s not a therapy, it’s a symptom. I buy to fill an emptiness that never gets filled because I’m not actually craving stuff. I’m craving experiences. I want to feel whole. I want to feel as though I’m contributing. I want to feel appreciated. I want to feel happy. I want to feel a sense of accomplishment. The only thing I accomplish when I buy things is checking something off a list and fulfilling my weekly dose of buyer’s remorse. This is one thing I won’t blame on chemo. Instead I’m gonna say it’s the fault of evil corporations in search of the almighty dollar. This doesn’t mean I’m a Communist or a Socialist. I’m just a realist. Any number of news stories will illustrate that fact. I won’t get into an argument about how corporate profit dictates our lifestyles. That people work full time and still qualify for social assistance is commentary enough.
I did have a thought the other day... If the government provided healthy REAL food free to the poor, they would probably be able to pay for it through medicare/medicaid savings. But I digress...
It makes me profoundly sad to hear my husband say that he wanted to live a life of experience and instead we have a life tethered to ‘stuff’. Big house, big mortgage, big bills, (medical and otherwise,) big responsibilities, big basement and big attic filled with big amounts of stuff. When Naomi was born, we talked about taking a year off then the kids were 9 and 11 and renting a winnebago and driving around the country home schooling them in history, culture, art, music, natural sciences, self-sufficiency, ecology, etc. That time frame begins in less than a year and there is just no way to make it happen. Both Dan and I grew up on the lower end of the middle class. Some years we even made forays into the higher end of the lower class. I can remember not having milk in the fridge because it wasn’t pay-day yet. My children want for nothing, except an understanding of how truly privileged they are.
Depression and other mental illnesses have a genetic component. My children will most likely have their own journey with depression. A life history of immediate gratification and excess are not the right tools for this battle. And yet I’m not sure how to equip them with what they need. We need to travel to India, or Mexico City, or Appalachia. My kids need to see what need is.
No question I can do better in the experience department. I just haven’t the wherewithal these days to put up with the whining. I like to hike. Dan likes to hike. The children do not like to hike. We rarely hike. So then I catch myself thinking “If we only had a canoe... I bet the kids would love to go to the Metropark and go canoeing.” Where the hell am I going to store a canoe? Stuff is not the answer. I need to think of that as my mantra. Advertising exists to convince me that my life sucks and I can fix it by buying something. The easiest way for me to 'fix' my life at any particular point is to go for a long walk, eat some vegetables, sit and hold my kids or husband, and just keep swimming.
14 December 201
6 Days Shy
I am now 6 days shy of the one year anniversary of my last chemo treatment. While it would be slightly cleaner for me to wait for a milestone anniversary, I'm feeling the need to move on tonight.
Again I want to thank my friends and family, without whose support I don't think I could have made it through the past 17 months. The first five were really a bitch. The last year hasn't been so very easy either. But I've emerged stronger and healthier than when I began my journey. (Although arguably incomplete.)
I still wear hats. Mostly all the time in the cold. Because my hair is still so thin and short, my head gets cold. Rest assured that the hats that didn't make the cut made their way to people who would appreciate them. Some were dropped off at my oncology office, other warmer ones, were part of a local hat/coat/glove drive.
I still need a little surgery to tweak the left foob, which is decidedly square. Not sure I'll ever get to it as it's undetectable under clothes, and I'm quite sure my unfulfilled career as a nude model is off the table. I see my Oncologist three times a year to say hi and complain about hot flashes, and I see my Surgeon twice a year to see how her baby is doing.
I am slowly forging ahead with stuff. Two steps forward, one step back. I hit the gym hard through the fall, and managed to build a little muscle, run a 5K and drop a little body fat. I'm now hunkering down for the winter, having blown my wad of physical motivation. I'm registered at a community college for a GIS (Geographical Information Systems) technical certificate so I can actually get a job. I'm working through diet issues, trying to find a balance between healthy and yummy, as well as weeding out bat-shiat crazy ideas. Not sure where I'll end up on that yet, as most the stuff I read all contradicts most of the other stuff I read. Paleo is working for me now, but who knows what I'll feel like in 6 months.
People ask how I'm doing, as in "How's that cancer thing going?" and I'm not sure how to answer. Because I thankfully was only stage 2, (pre-metastasis,) I'm not really monitored, and I don't get scans, and there's no way to ascertain how that cancer thing IS going. So lately I just say I'm feeling pretty good.
So now that I really don't have much to say about cancer, I feel it's time to switch my blog over to un-cancer related ideas I have swirling in my head.
So I'll be re-introducing myself shortly, and re-designing my blog, and finally moving forward.
I am now 6 days shy of the one year anniversary of my last chemo treatment. While it would be slightly cleaner for me to wait for a milestone anniversary, I'm feeling the need to move on tonight.
Again I want to thank my friends and family, without whose support I don't think I could have made it through the past 17 months. The first five were really a bitch. The last year hasn't been so very easy either. But I've emerged stronger and healthier than when I began my journey. (Although arguably incomplete.)
I still wear hats. Mostly all the time in the cold. Because my hair is still so thin and short, my head gets cold. Rest assured that the hats that didn't make the cut made their way to people who would appreciate them. Some were dropped off at my oncology office, other warmer ones, were part of a local hat/coat/glove drive.
I still need a little surgery to tweak the left foob, which is decidedly square. Not sure I'll ever get to it as it's undetectable under clothes, and I'm quite sure my unfulfilled career as a nude model is off the table. I see my Oncologist three times a year to say hi and complain about hot flashes, and I see my Surgeon twice a year to see how her baby is doing.
I am slowly forging ahead with stuff. Two steps forward, one step back. I hit the gym hard through the fall, and managed to build a little muscle, run a 5K and drop a little body fat. I'm now hunkering down for the winter, having blown my wad of physical motivation. I'm registered at a community college for a GIS (Geographical Information Systems) technical certificate so I can actually get a job. I'm working through diet issues, trying to find a balance between healthy and yummy, as well as weeding out bat-shiat crazy ideas. Not sure where I'll end up on that yet, as most the stuff I read all contradicts most of the other stuff I read. Paleo is working for me now, but who knows what I'll feel like in 6 months.
People ask how I'm doing, as in "How's that cancer thing going?" and I'm not sure how to answer. Because I thankfully was only stage 2, (pre-metastasis,) I'm not really monitored, and I don't get scans, and there's no way to ascertain how that cancer thing IS going. So lately I just say I'm feeling pretty good.
So now that I really don't have much to say about cancer, I feel it's time to switch my blog over to un-cancer related ideas I have swirling in my head.
So I'll be re-introducing myself shortly, and re-designing my blog, and finally moving forward.
15 November 2012
Depression
I have in the past been diagnosed with depression. I'm pretty self-aware when it come to the signs and symptoms. I know what to expect when I feel certain things and I usually know what to do. I've been on and off anti-depression drugs since I was in my early 30's. When I feel like this, it's time for me to go to my doctor and get a prescription for an anti-depressive.
Unfortunately I can't take anything right now because the class of drugs that typically work for me are contra-indicated with my tamoxifen. There are other classes of drugs that are OK to take, but I have tried them in the past and rather than leveling out my mood, they make me crazy. So I am now on Plan B, watching my diet, exercising regularly, going to bed at a decent hour, and lowering my expectations to conserve valuable and scarce emotional energy.
It's not working.
I struggle to muster the motivation to do even simple tasks. I would prefer to stay in bed all day. By the time the kids get home from school and I spend a couple of hours with them I am a basket case in need of a cool, dark, quiet room. Even as I fight to maintain a semblance of functionality, I see M slipping into her own funk.
This is new for her. She's starting puberty, where all sorts of stuff is kicking in. It's unfortunately a part of her make-up, given our family history. It hurts to know that she will have to wade through this. I'm glad I'm aware enough to help guide her, but I worry that I won't be able to - she'll have to discover for herself how to recognize and then deal with her symptoms and the underlying illness.
My answer for now is just keep swimming, and that's what I'm telling her.
I have in the past been diagnosed with depression. I'm pretty self-aware when it come to the signs and symptoms. I know what to expect when I feel certain things and I usually know what to do. I've been on and off anti-depression drugs since I was in my early 30's. When I feel like this, it's time for me to go to my doctor and get a prescription for an anti-depressive.
Unfortunately I can't take anything right now because the class of drugs that typically work for me are contra-indicated with my tamoxifen. There are other classes of drugs that are OK to take, but I have tried them in the past and rather than leveling out my mood, they make me crazy. So I am now on Plan B, watching my diet, exercising regularly, going to bed at a decent hour, and lowering my expectations to conserve valuable and scarce emotional energy.
It's not working.
I struggle to muster the motivation to do even simple tasks. I would prefer to stay in bed all day. By the time the kids get home from school and I spend a couple of hours with them I am a basket case in need of a cool, dark, quiet room. Even as I fight to maintain a semblance of functionality, I see M slipping into her own funk.
This is new for her. She's starting puberty, where all sorts of stuff is kicking in. It's unfortunately a part of her make-up, given our family history. It hurts to know that she will have to wade through this. I'm glad I'm aware enough to help guide her, but I worry that I won't be able to - she'll have to discover for herself how to recognize and then deal with her symptoms and the underlying illness.
My answer for now is just keep swimming, and that's what I'm telling her.
7 October 2012
Limerick Sunday
Yesterday dawned crisp and cold
But I felt strangely chipper and bold
I jogged a 5K
But now I will pay
'Cause today I'm decrepit and old!
Yesterday dawned crisp and cold
But I felt strangely chipper and bold
I jogged a 5K
But now I will pay
'Cause today I'm decrepit and old!
7 October 2012
On My Way
"You won't feel quite 'right' until about a year after chemo."
"You won't be back to 'normal' for a year after chemo."
"Give yourself a whole year after chemo to feel like yourself again."
I came up pretty hard against this when I tried to jump back into my life too soon last spring. I'd work really hard at exercising or trying to do something that I hadn't done for a while and would end up in bed for a couple of days. So I took it pretty easy this summer. Unlike last summer when leading up to my surgery I was walking 5-7 days and doing 20-30 miles a week, I spent a lot of time sitting under the shade while the kids played in the pool. I started the summer heading to the gym but then different things got in the way and by mid-summer I'd given up on that. I had intended to get back to the gym when the kids went back to school but found myself distracted with other 'busy-work'.
I have an acquaintance who raves about her gym and she talked me into trying Crossfit. I've been a few times now and it is interesting. I'm very sore, yet I feel like I didn't push myself too hard. I'm not working at my potential but I'm worried about injuring myself. So I'm taking it slow, per my plastic surgeon's instructions. I may not be doing 100% but I am doing something.
I had been working on a couch to 5k program in the spring and early summer. I haven't really run for a couple of months but against my better judgment I did a 5K yesterday and ran the whole way. This gives me hope that by the time I hit my end of chemo anniversary I'll be FAR healthier than when I was originally diagnosed. And I'll feel better than my old self.
With my paleo diet keeping my lymphedema in check (totally anecdotal, of course, but once I stopped eating dairy, legumes, added sugar and grains, my swelling went away,) I'm more confidently tackling physical challenges with my left (bad) arm. Don't get me wrong, I'm still the oldest/fattest/slowest/weakest person I've encountered in 6 workouts, but I'm doing the workouts in a modified manner and finishing them. I have ten and a half weeks until my next stepping stone, which is my end of chemo anniversary. My goal is to drop one of those superlatives!
I was thinking this the other day. By the time my mom was my age, the only exercise she got was smoking. (Bend arm, inhale, hold exhale.) Fifty is the new forty because sixty years old used to be old, but not anymore.
"You won't feel quite 'right' until about a year after chemo."
"You won't be back to 'normal' for a year after chemo."
"Give yourself a whole year after chemo to feel like yourself again."
I came up pretty hard against this when I tried to jump back into my life too soon last spring. I'd work really hard at exercising or trying to do something that I hadn't done for a while and would end up in bed for a couple of days. So I took it pretty easy this summer. Unlike last summer when leading up to my surgery I was walking 5-7 days and doing 20-30 miles a week, I spent a lot of time sitting under the shade while the kids played in the pool. I started the summer heading to the gym but then different things got in the way and by mid-summer I'd given up on that. I had intended to get back to the gym when the kids went back to school but found myself distracted with other 'busy-work'.
I have an acquaintance who raves about her gym and she talked me into trying Crossfit. I've been a few times now and it is interesting. I'm very sore, yet I feel like I didn't push myself too hard. I'm not working at my potential but I'm worried about injuring myself. So I'm taking it slow, per my plastic surgeon's instructions. I may not be doing 100% but I am doing something.
I had been working on a couch to 5k program in the spring and early summer. I haven't really run for a couple of months but against my better judgment I did a 5K yesterday and ran the whole way. This gives me hope that by the time I hit my end of chemo anniversary I'll be FAR healthier than when I was originally diagnosed. And I'll feel better than my old self.
With my paleo diet keeping my lymphedema in check (totally anecdotal, of course, but once I stopped eating dairy, legumes, added sugar and grains, my swelling went away,) I'm more confidently tackling physical challenges with my left (bad) arm. Don't get me wrong, I'm still the oldest/fattest/slowest/weakest person I've encountered in 6 workouts, but I'm doing the workouts in a modified manner and finishing them. I have ten and a half weeks until my next stepping stone, which is my end of chemo anniversary. My goal is to drop one of those superlatives!
I was thinking this the other day. By the time my mom was my age, the only exercise she got was smoking. (Bend arm, inhale, hold exhale.) Fifty is the new forty because sixty years old used to be old, but not anymore.
28 September 2012
I Think I Can, I think I Can.....
Shifting gears, I'm moving on to a new stepping stone. For years I've said I wanted to work on strength, flexibility and stamina. And for years I've messed around with an on-again, off-again, love-hate relationship with various gyms and trainers.
So today I'm through my trial period and I jumped into Crossfit
I'm going to take it slow, as my surgeon recommended, and see how I do for a month. If I do not hate it, I will continue. My goal is twice a week, augmenting my walking schedule...
Which is seriously compromised these days by a flurry of busy-ness. I did get a good walk in on Tuesday. But once or twice a week isn't going to cut it for me. I miss walking religiously, but can't seem to work it back into my schedule on a regular basis. Priorities, priorities.
I am continuing with my modified paleo. I slid off the road while on the cruise in early August, partaking in a couple of desserts. It is a slippery slope, my friends. Before I knew it I was putting honey in my tea and eating handfuls of dried fruit. Granted, it's not slices of cake, but then I had some of that too. I was able to maintain my weight, but I stopped losing... about 20 pounds too soon. So I'll be heading back to Whole30 territory October 1. Sugar is a huge psychological and physical trigger for me. I need to just say no. And eat more bacon.
Which brings us to my physical last week with my internist, Dr. T. She was pleased with my weight, but not so pleased when I told her how I had changed my diet. So we did a fasting blood test. My cholesterol is HIGHER. But wait! Before you go and blame the bacon, know that Tamoxifen raises cholesterol measures, and I'm still 15 points below the borderline range. Also, like I said above, I've been eating a lot of sugar, and so my triglycerides are up too. All in all, she was ok with my numbers. I can only assume it will improve once I get the damn sugar monkey off my back. (And drop some more body fat.)
I am chronically dehydrated. I have been for years. It's a coping mechanism developed from having a bladder the size of a lentil. So I'm working on more water in frequents small amounts.
I had an interesting experience about a week ago. I signed up for a new session of belly dancing at my local community center. The teacher was different from the last session I took. (More on that later.)
The teacher had her hand on my front and back, adjusting me and she asked if I was sick. I said no. So she asked if I recently had an illness. I told her I had cancer last year and she said she felt it in my body - the surgical trauma, the chemo, and the struggle my body is fighting to come back from both. Weird. I don't think I look sick, so I'm not sure how she figured it out. Sure my hair is short but I prefer to think of it a 'kicky' instead of post-chemo. Do you think I look sick?
The teacher at the community center was less professional than the teacher in the summer session I attended. So much so that I won't go back. Instead I found a class that Bronwen teaches once a week just down the road. I bought my punchcard and I'm back to doing shimmy drills rather than crunches.
Shifting gears, I'm moving on to a new stepping stone. For years I've said I wanted to work on strength, flexibility and stamina. And for years I've messed around with an on-again, off-again, love-hate relationship with various gyms and trainers.
So today I'm through my trial period and I jumped into Crossfit
I'm going to take it slow, as my surgeon recommended, and see how I do for a month. If I do not hate it, I will continue. My goal is twice a week, augmenting my walking schedule...
Which is seriously compromised these days by a flurry of busy-ness. I did get a good walk in on Tuesday. But once or twice a week isn't going to cut it for me. I miss walking religiously, but can't seem to work it back into my schedule on a regular basis. Priorities, priorities.
I am continuing with my modified paleo. I slid off the road while on the cruise in early August, partaking in a couple of desserts. It is a slippery slope, my friends. Before I knew it I was putting honey in my tea and eating handfuls of dried fruit. Granted, it's not slices of cake, but then I had some of that too. I was able to maintain my weight, but I stopped losing... about 20 pounds too soon. So I'll be heading back to Whole30 territory October 1. Sugar is a huge psychological and physical trigger for me. I need to just say no. And eat more bacon.
Which brings us to my physical last week with my internist, Dr. T. She was pleased with my weight, but not so pleased when I told her how I had changed my diet. So we did a fasting blood test. My cholesterol is HIGHER. But wait! Before you go and blame the bacon, know that Tamoxifen raises cholesterol measures, and I'm still 15 points below the borderline range. Also, like I said above, I've been eating a lot of sugar, and so my triglycerides are up too. All in all, she was ok with my numbers. I can only assume it will improve once I get the damn sugar monkey off my back. (And drop some more body fat.)
I am chronically dehydrated. I have been for years. It's a coping mechanism developed from having a bladder the size of a lentil. So I'm working on more water in frequents small amounts.
I had an interesting experience about a week ago. I signed up for a new session of belly dancing at my local community center. The teacher was different from the last session I took. (More on that later.)
The teacher had her hand on my front and back, adjusting me and she asked if I was sick. I said no. So she asked if I recently had an illness. I told her I had cancer last year and she said she felt it in my body - the surgical trauma, the chemo, and the struggle my body is fighting to come back from both. Weird. I don't think I look sick, so I'm not sure how she figured it out. Sure my hair is short but I prefer to think of it a 'kicky' instead of post-chemo. Do you think I look sick?
The teacher at the community center was less professional than the teacher in the summer session I attended. So much so that I won't go back. Instead I found a class that Bronwen teaches once a week just down the road. I bought my punchcard and I'm back to doing shimmy drills rather than crunches.
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