Just say yes

One of the biggest stressors in life is illness, and in the past few months we have all learned how true that is.  Since Trevor was diagnosed in May, we have been through different stages of highs and lows.   I hoped that once the surgery was over, we might be able to breathe a sigh of relief and find some normalcy again.  Not so much.  At least, not yet.

Don't get me wrong: I'm thrilled that the surgery is over and T is back home.  It's comforting to have my crew back together again under the same roof.  Even though that has happened, things aren't exactly status quo again.  As part of T's treatment, he temporarily has an ostomy bag while his bowel is healing post-surgery.  As with most things in life, it's easy to think that it isn't a big deal when you're not experiencing it yourself.   He still has months of chemo left to do.  He's tired and not regaining his strength as quickly as he would like.  Having a serious illness changes a person; no one can face his own mortality without coming out a little different on the other side.  There is a learning curve, and we're still figuring out how to deal with everything.

And just as much as he is trying to figure out what his new normal is, the kids and I are trying to do the same.  Obviously, I am better at dealing with the change than the kids are, and I spend a lot of time reassuring them and trying to make things as relatable as possible.  I don't think they fully understand that we still have a long road ahead of us, and quite frankly, I don't have the heart to tell them that the surgery wasn't the end of all the tests, treatments, and upheaval.  I know it's difficult for T because he can't do the same things he was able to do before the diagnosis.  Truthfully, it's hard on everyone.  But that's marriage, you know?  I remember my mom telling me that marriage is rarely exactly 50-50.  Sometimes it's more like 30-70 or even 88-12, but as long as each spouse takes turns giving more or less, it's all good.  This is just one of the times that the percentage is tipped a bit more my way, and when it's all said and done, I'll have my turn to breathe.

Even if it were 0-100 right now, which it most certainly is not, I have had plenty of people who are willing to help.  It was pretty difficult for me to say I would accept the help at first; no one wants to admit that he/she can't do everything alone.  I thought I could take care of every little thing with no help from anyone else.  I mean, I probably could have, but I guarantee that I would have ended up in the hospital myself from sheer exhaustion.  I also don't know half of the time what I want or need to be done because my mind is constantly spinning in a thousand different directions.  Selfishly, I suppose I thought that if I personally could keep everything rolling, nothing could fall apart.  Ever.  I truly felt like I was handling everything okay until I had a day when I couldn't remember smiling once, not even when the kids were around.  I spent that evening beating myself up, and I vowed that I wasn't going to let that happen again.  It was a total Scarlett O'Hara moment in my own mind.  Plus, Dr. Mike, my awesome frieneighborist (that's my friend/next door neighbor/dentist at The Centre for Contemporary Dentistry) informed me at my checkup last week that I had been grinding my teeth so hard in the night that I had managed to crack a tooth.  Dude.  I guess if I'm gonna do something, I'm gonna give it my all.

It took T having cancer for me to realize that asking for help or even accepting the help offered to me didn't make me a weak person; it made me stronger in the end so I could continue to take care of my family.  I mean, if we're going to go through this whole craptastic situation, we might as well learn something.  AmIrite??  Sometimes I feel a twinge of guilt because I don't know how I will ever begin to repay people for their kindness and generosity, but feeling guilty isn't going to do anyone any good.  Learning to say yes has been a very humbling and freeing lesson for me.  From the bottom of my heart, I thank all of you who have helped us along the way.

The Empress of All Maladies

As a kid, I was pretty healthy.  I never broke a bone, I never had to go to the ER: nothing serious.  I had the usual illnesses like colds, the flu, and chicken pox, but overall, things were pretty normal.

Fast forward to my adult years.  Things were pretty status quo until I got married.  (Does that mean I get to blame Trevor for my issues?)  Since being with Trevor, my surgery quotient has definitely been on the rise.  In January of 2007, I had my first C-section.  (Trevor's fault.) That was followed by another C-section in September of 2008.  (Again, Trevor's fault.) A mere five months later, I had my gallbladder removed after months and months of lots of pain.  (The doctor said that having close pregnancies can cause gallbladder issues, so I can indirectly blame Trevor for that.) Somehow, I made it through 2010 with no real concerns other than two nutty kids.  2011 brought shoulder surgery for a torn labrum.  The first time I hurt myself, it was at the Porter County Fair on as ride.  Yep, I hurt myself on a fair ride.  I was trying to twist the steering wheel of a teacup ride while my right arm while holding Dallas steady with my left arm.  (I can blame Trevor for that because he was in Lexington working while I was in Valpo with the kids.  Sketchy, I know, but I'm going to roll with it.)  Then in late 2011, my hairdresser noticed a few bumps on my scalp and advised me to get them checked out.  I went to the dermatologist who told me that I had a staph infection.  WHAT?  How does a stay-at-home-mom get a staph infection?  I don't know, either. ( Unfortunately, I can't blame Trevor for that one.  Sigh.)

As if that hasn't been enough, it seems as though I have gotten seriously clumsy in 2012.  In the first 13 days of this year, I have burned my arm on a baking rack in the oven, fallen on the ice while taking out the garbage cans and smashing my head against one, and I burned my lips on some sort of corrosion when I was trying to change the batteries in an old flashlight.  It's like my brain has turned to some sort of fuzzy mush this year.  Maybe the Apocalypse really is coming.

Let's add one more, shall we?  While we were visiting my family in Valpo over the holidays, I had a few days of terrible headaches and nausea.  I soon started to realize that I wasn't sick to my stomach, but there was a really weird lump in my throat that was causing me to feel nauseous.  And I have never been one to have headaches, so that was a little disconcerting.  I made an appointment to see my doctor in Lexington, and she advised me to get an ultrasound of my neck.  The ultrasound results showed a multinodal enlargement of my thyroid.  In other words, I have a goiter.  Oh. Em. Gee.  A goiter???  That's totally not what I was expecting.  So next Thursday, I have to go have a Fine-Needle Aspiration of the nodules at Central Baptist Hospital.  I'm not really worried; my doctor said that 99% of multinodular goiters are benign.  I have to go by myself, though, because Trevor has to stay home with the kids.  (Speaking of Trevor, I can't blame The Goiter on him.  I'm looking for a way, though, so I'll let you know.)  For now, though, I'm using The Goiter to my advantage: "I get to choose what we watch on TV tonight; I have a goiter, you know."

None of these are terribly serious matters, but they do make me realize that I'm getting older and I need to take good care of myself.  I want to be around as long as possible so I can laugh hysterically when my kids call me for advice about their own nutty kids.  Isn't that what being a grandparent is all about?