Back in the (Spring) swing

I know February is a short month, but, man, it was loooooooong chez Wells.  We had some very minor bouts of sickness, and longer bouts of I don't even know what.  We're restless and edgy and unfocused.  Winter blues?  Utter fatigue?  The blahs?  Something has been going around; that's all I know.

Credit: cartoonstock.com

I think I need to get out of the "when" mindset.  Like we'll go on vacation when T's treatments are over or we'll try to sneak in a night alone when the kids are older.  I need to focus on now and everything that is happening in the present.  The sun was shining today, and that has made a huge difference for me.  I was in a funk with the rest of the crew here, and I just couldn't seem to snap out of it.  I'm not entirely certain that I am out of it, but at least for today, there was a tiny hint of Spring in the air.  Spring will bring more sunshine and singing birds and soft breezes and the end of chemo. (That sort of seems like a bit of a "when" but I'm going to let that one slide.  No one is perfect.)   Even when we don't feel like it, we keep on keeping' on, and sometimes that's enough.

This is not to say I haven't been finding the good in things as often as I can.  This is the Year of the Boss, no?  I'm beyond grateful for my amazing family who continues to help us out every day.  My dad takes T into Northwestern for his chemo days and takes Dal to tae kwon do.  My mom spends girl-time with Lottie after school and makes sure we are always fed.  My fantastic brother gave up a Friday night to take both kids to the Flint Lake fun fair because I was working the fair and couldn't walk around with them.  (No need to get into that night, but suffice it to say Dallas made Matt's chaperoning job a bit difficult.)  We are so lucky to have my family and our friends around to check in, lend a hand, or just remind us that they are around when we need them.  I love that my kids get to see not only what it looks like to help others but how to graciously receive the help being given.  That is a gift that they will use for the rest of their lives.

I have been going to boot camp at the Y with my brother on Monday and Wednesday mornings.   It's a great way to get going in the morning, and I secretly like the time I get to spend with Matt.  Don't tell him I said that, though.  I would hate for him to get the big head.

I spent time with the big family group a couple of weeks ago.  I loved sitting around and laughing with my cousins, and it was fun to watch our kids play together.

My wicked smart nephew has decided to head to IU next year, and my incredible niece is turning twenty-one this week.    That's bitterboss because they should both still be little, but watching them grow is a pretty special thing.

I ran into one of my former students a few weeks ago who said she hoped I would go back to teaching because I was really good at it.  Talk about the big head!!  My ego is still stuffed full after that.

Some people I know are getting married, and some people are having babies.  New seasons, new lives, new beginnings; there's not much better than that.  Maybe forcing myself to remember the boss that life doles out every day will help get me out of "when" and keep me in "wow."

Someone had fun at the fun fair!

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.

Luck

I read this article today about a woman who pretended to have bladder cancer, and for her pains, she was given meals, cash, and even had her wedding paid for by friends and family.  She's not the only one who has pretended to be sick in order to gain from her lies.  One woman recently faked a cancer diagnosis, breast cancer no less, in order to get money for breast implants.  Uh huh.  Classy.  I feel sick and furious and sad that anyone would go to such lengths for money or attention.

I wouldn't wish cancer on anyone.  Anyone.  It's horrible and frightening and absolutely life-changing.  I can't pretend to know what it feels like to have to go through treatment after treatment in order to fight cancer: I was lucky.  Every doctor I saw and continue to see has said that if someone has to have cancer, thyroid cancer is the "best" kind to have because it's easily treatable.  After two surgeries, my cancer is gone...for now.  It could recur, but the chances of that happening are pretty slim.  There's that luck again.

Although I haven't had to have chemo or radiation treatments, I'm still affected by it all.  Days go by without a thought of what happened, but other days, I wonder why I got so lucky when others I know have had a terrible time dealing with illness.  I think about the fact that I lived with cancer invading my body, and I didn't even know it.  I think about the fact that it could have been so much worse, and for some reason, it simply wasn't.  Lucky.

But the thing is, it's never really over.  The cancer could return, and that's something I have to live with.  When I get a little tickle in my throat, I wonder if it's back.  When I am feeling particularly run-down, I wonder if it's back.  When I cough, I wonder if it's back.  The worry lives in me like a tiny fly, buzzing around my brain, my heart, my stomach.  I know it's there, and I don't know how to get rid of it so I can go back to the way things were before.  Of course, I can't.  I'll spend the rest of my life with the nagging thought that something could be slowly growing inside me, taking over my body without my knowledge and without my permission.

These people who have pretended to be sick should have to go and talk to parents who have lost their children to cancer.  They should have to talk to people who have watched their loved ones slowly waste away because of the cancer monster.  They should volunteer at a hospice center or a children's hospital, deliver meals to survivors, or drive patients to treatment.  They should talk to survivors who have to go back year after year, always hoping they hear that their cancer hasn't returned.  But the one thing they shouldn't do is have to deal with their own cancer diagnoses because no one ever should.  I did, and I was lucky.  But not everyone is.

Credit: http://livestrongandsore.com