So here I sit, in an airport. It's 3 a.m. and I feel Like I'm on a different planet. I'm making my way to Florida to see my best friend Hilda. My flight leave around 5 a.m., so I took the last boat off the island. You know what the weirdest thing about being in an airport at 3 a.m. is?
Aside from the fun in the air all around you, the hum of row after row of fluorescent lights, the strange person who wonders in the airport in the middle of the night wearing wrap around sun glasses carrying three huge trunks (and you secretively wonder how many dead bodies are in those trunks) who can sit anywhere in the whole damned airport but sits two seats away from you with their over powering men's cologne that would choke a horse but instead pollutes your nostrils. Besides the blaring over head speakers proclaiming the free wi-fi internet service that doesn't work, or the chairs that are breaking what bones I still have left in my back.
The weirdest thing about an airport at 3 a.m. is listening to the escalator as it cycles over and over again. Lord save me.
Okay, so now it's 3:25 a.m. Hmm, what else should I tell you. A scary, very large couple, she in a hot pink sweatsuit, he in baggy pants hanging so low you just want to scream - pull up you pants - just came in and jumped on the luggage scales with themselves and their luggage. Needless to say, the lights begin to flash yellow - tilt - they are way over the weight limit. Big news flash there.
Florida should be nice, I think to myself......hopefully sunny and warm. I have to be honest with myself, I've never thought of myself going to Florida. Oh sure, I had the ideas of going to Disney World with the children...but Florida itself no. That's the land of old people. Yet, I'm just about to turn 50 and AARP is knocking at the door. Does this mean I have to get used to old folks land. Hmmm......how many Lincoln Continentals do you think I'll see?
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Between the Land of Nod
Sometimes we find ourselves thinking before the day begins. You know what I’m talking about…..the time between night and day. We are snuggly warm in our soft comfy beds between the rush of day and quiet dark of night. We lie under the covers of our bed thinking. The soft blankets warming hour hearts and mind, we think about our day. Our brain clicks off its mental check. We begin to live our day at work, the meetings fly by, the projects that we need to attack, and tedious chores we have to do around the house, trying to figure out whether or not our children have clean clothes to wear for the day. And sometimes as we are drifting amongst the clouds of sleep and wake, we are thinking about our daily chores….that lead us not into temptation…..we drift back to warmth of night and wonder about life and death.
Everyone has there own little dreams. The dreams are played out in the Land of Nod, between waking and sleeping. When we were young, we used to dream about being Dorothy Hamill of ice skating and gliding on the crisp edge of our ice skates taking us to another gold metal, or perhaps we are the Willie Mays of baseball making the one handed catch behind our back to win the World Series at the ripe old age of 12. When we are older our fantasies are more mature, now we’re now winning a Mega Million Jackpot of $225 million, or a hot night out in Paris, our husbands in tuxedos while we sport some exotic silky red thing with spaghetti straps. Don’t forget we’re in the Land of Nod……our husbands look good and we look fabulous and in a blink of an eye we are in Paris.
It’s morning. My eyes are closed, it’s dark. The last dream of the night, first daydream of the day begins. I hurt, my bones feel pain. What causes the pain? My mind is drifting on the clouds in the Land of Nod. If I squeeze my eyes shut just a little longer will the pain go away? My bones hurt, my ribs hurt. I start thinking about the cells coursing through my body. There is a plethora of cell characters within confines of my body, my castle. He men, strong men – the muscle cells, they walk, run, swim. The Einsteins, the thinkers, the lovers – the brain cells, they talk, laugh, love. The Suits, the protectors – the skin cells which lie flat all over your body and try to keep you warm even when you do your annual New Year’s swim in freezing water. The stomach cells which are always whining for something to eat even though they just finished a big bowl of ice cream just before you went to bed. The Red and White Blood cells, providing energy for most of all of the other cells but more importantly they are the defenders of the castle. They battle the villains, measles, mumps, infections, and even the dreaded cancer cells.
I have huge quantity of cancer cells running around my body. I know it, I accept it. I think of them, of what the cells are doing. Do they think, do they know they kill? Right now, they are just traveling free and fancy on their own. The “C” cells are zipping around through my blood stream, doing wheelies in my bones, causing great pain in their wakes. I can see them in the Land of Nod. The “C” cells are flashy, want something tasty to eat, and always, always want a good time. Sooner or later, those “C” are going to run into one another. I see them first, ganging up together, riding on top of the red cells until they come to some cool restaurant like Joan’s Liver. They get a party started, calling out for more “C” cells to join them. They slam down white blood cells for appetizers but they start to dig their claws in my liver. The “C” cells dance, bust up whatever come into their path. Red Blood cells will try to fight them off, but to little avail. The “C” cells pair up and make out. The next thing you know, pregnancy will run rampant. And where you had a little cantina of “C” cells, next you’ll have fast food franchises of “C” cells branching further throughout my body.
But, I open my eyes. The Land of Nod is gone. The pain is still there. The cancer cells are still in my body. However they are coursing through my body on their own, they haven’t ganged up yet. They will, but until then I fortify my red and white cells with chemo. There is a battle being played out inside me. All I can do is wait. All I can do is feel. No one tells us that cancer is painful.
Everyone has there own little dreams. The dreams are played out in the Land of Nod, between waking and sleeping. When we were young, we used to dream about being Dorothy Hamill of ice skating and gliding on the crisp edge of our ice skates taking us to another gold metal, or perhaps we are the Willie Mays of baseball making the one handed catch behind our back to win the World Series at the ripe old age of 12. When we are older our fantasies are more mature, now we’re now winning a Mega Million Jackpot of $225 million, or a hot night out in Paris, our husbands in tuxedos while we sport some exotic silky red thing with spaghetti straps. Don’t forget we’re in the Land of Nod……our husbands look good and we look fabulous and in a blink of an eye we are in Paris.
It’s morning. My eyes are closed, it’s dark. The last dream of the night, first daydream of the day begins. I hurt, my bones feel pain. What causes the pain? My mind is drifting on the clouds in the Land of Nod. If I squeeze my eyes shut just a little longer will the pain go away? My bones hurt, my ribs hurt. I start thinking about the cells coursing through my body. There is a plethora of cell characters within confines of my body, my castle. He men, strong men – the muscle cells, they walk, run, swim. The Einsteins, the thinkers, the lovers – the brain cells, they talk, laugh, love. The Suits, the protectors – the skin cells which lie flat all over your body and try to keep you warm even when you do your annual New Year’s swim in freezing water. The stomach cells which are always whining for something to eat even though they just finished a big bowl of ice cream just before you went to bed. The Red and White Blood cells, providing energy for most of all of the other cells but more importantly they are the defenders of the castle. They battle the villains, measles, mumps, infections, and even the dreaded cancer cells.
I have huge quantity of cancer cells running around my body. I know it, I accept it. I think of them, of what the cells are doing. Do they think, do they know they kill? Right now, they are just traveling free and fancy on their own. The “C” cells are zipping around through my blood stream, doing wheelies in my bones, causing great pain in their wakes. I can see them in the Land of Nod. The “C” cells are flashy, want something tasty to eat, and always, always want a good time. Sooner or later, those “C” are going to run into one another. I see them first, ganging up together, riding on top of the red cells until they come to some cool restaurant like Joan’s Liver. They get a party started, calling out for more “C” cells to join them. They slam down white blood cells for appetizers but they start to dig their claws in my liver. The “C” cells dance, bust up whatever come into their path. Red Blood cells will try to fight them off, but to little avail. The “C” cells pair up and make out. The next thing you know, pregnancy will run rampant. And where you had a little cantina of “C” cells, next you’ll have fast food franchises of “C” cells branching further throughout my body.
But, I open my eyes. The Land of Nod is gone. The pain is still there. The cancer cells are still in my body. However they are coursing through my body on their own, they haven’t ganged up yet. They will, but until then I fortify my red and white cells with chemo. There is a battle being played out inside me. All I can do is wait. All I can do is feel. No one tells us that cancer is painful.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
My heart
The other day, I was schlepping Emma home. I was the taxi service that picked her up from her afterschool program, crossed the island at break neck speed to get her to her cello lesson, and followed up with driving back up the hill to our house. It was raining and cold; the car’s windows were foggy. Emma was drawing animals and smiley faces on the window. We were both bopping to some silly girly song on the radio, when during the lull she said. “Mama, did you know that my real friends can see through my eyes to see my heart and know that I love them.” I looked into the rear view mirror into my daughters eyes and smiled. I turned the radio down as she went on to list her best friends of Haley, Amelia, Simon and others…..all of which could see through her to her heart. I then asked if there was any one who didn’t see her heart. Emma’s smile immediately turned upside down to a big frown. She venomously named a little boy, and listed all his faults against her. And I hid my laughter; my eyes were twinkling as I learned he wasn’t so bad, he was just not into Emma and her animal games. I even perceived that she really wanted him to see into her heart. Then there was silence and as we drove down the lane to our home, she said – you know Mama, you see into my heart the easiest – I love you Mama. I love you too, Emma.
Since our little conversation, I’ve wondered can my friends see into my heart and know how much I love them. I wonder if my friends know how truly shy I am and that sometimes it’s hard just to say the words. I have a really good friend who lives down in San Francisco; she’s a smart savvy, very cool blonde. Whenever we would get together, she would yell out - get that girl a drink – she’s funnier. I want her and others to know that I hope you can see into my heart and know that I love you. From the Pink Cadillac couple, the quilt heads I used to hang out with, the St. B Moms, my roadie friend, my world wander conscious, my poor peter rabbit friends, my island moms, my b-study goodies and everyone else out there…..I love you all and couldn’t live without you.
Since our little conversation, I’ve wondered can my friends see into my heart and know how much I love them. I wonder if my friends know how truly shy I am and that sometimes it’s hard just to say the words. I have a really good friend who lives down in San Francisco; she’s a smart savvy, very cool blonde. Whenever we would get together, she would yell out - get that girl a drink – she’s funnier. I want her and others to know that I hope you can see into my heart and know that I love you. From the Pink Cadillac couple, the quilt heads I used to hang out with, the St. B Moms, my roadie friend, my world wander conscious, my poor peter rabbit friends, my island moms, my b-study goodies and everyone else out there…..I love you all and couldn’t live without you.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
What's my line?
It’s late, everyone is tucked into bed. Dylan has been home for a couple of days, in less than 5 hours he starts his trek back to college, ferry, plane, bus. Rainer’s snoring in bed next to me as I sit in my rocker. The girls have collapsed on their respective beds. In the recess of my brain, I wonder if Ashley is truly happy in Missouri. I look out of my window. It seems very dark out tonight, I don’t see any stars nor shadows cast from the distant moon. It’s so dark, I wonder if there is even a moon tonight. Time is ticking by. I can’t sleep; I have cancer on the brain tonight.
Now, stop worrying…..no, I don’t have a brain tumor (at least not yet – arh, arh). I’m thinking about my cancer and my mind is racing a million miles an hour. Someone recently asked me what my “marker” numbers are. For the life of me, I can’t remember. Another newbie cancer person was talking about her Oncotype DX number – and it’s a vast darkness in my brain. As I toss and turn in bed, I remember at 12:05 a.m. that its the anniversary of my initial diagnosis – I’m sorry the test shows that you have three lumps in your breast, plus it looks like its spread to your sternum and lymph nodes. I knew it was bad, the radiologist had given it away earlier……it was about 5:45 pm and he had to get to the airport……he snapped at me,”I don’t know why your surgeon is so interested in your breast, I’d be more concern about that large holes in your breast bone” as he inserted a needle into my lymph nodes playing darts with my underarm as he tried to hit the target. Why can’t I remember my marker…..troubles me? At first, I want to say……ah ha, it’s 8 – but that’s not it. That’s my cell differential, I scored an 8 out of 9. Two years, interesting…..I was only given 18 months and now it’s two years. Ain’t dead yet – ha!
Wow, so many friends and family have started their own little cancer journey since I started mine. Two mothers, a friend, a cousin, my father. There have been joyous outcomes, recent unknown starts and my own ever uphill crawl. I’ve made friends with others like me, we’ve sat next to each other waiting for our blood to be drawn, hoping to get a good chair, sharing our most embarrassing throw up for the week story – mine, throwing up green slime in the parking lot of Bank of America after a dear friend drove me to Seattle for treatment. Why is puke always green? While I’ve watched others being declared “cancer free”, I trod onward.
I still have cancer, I still go for treatments, I still wonder why me, I still wish that it would end. Two years ago, I worked 10 to 12 hours a day, could get groceries, pick up the dry cleaning, pick the children up from daycare, write a check with the best of them to keep my house clean, could sew, knit, read, run upstairs and down a million times at my girls bed time, make my children laugh, feed the dog and love my husband. Now, I don’t work. Walking is laborious - I shuffle along like Arte Johnson’s old man from his Laugh-In days. Running is out of the question. Grocery shopping is a stretch, dry cleaning is out. I can’t clean my house, I can do wash, but can’t fold it. My dogs starve.
But I still can make my children laugh and love my husband. Yep it’s bad. But it’s been 24 months not 18. Getting a little sleepy, but still can’t remember my marker…..darn it.
Now, stop worrying…..no, I don’t have a brain tumor (at least not yet – arh, arh). I’m thinking about my cancer and my mind is racing a million miles an hour. Someone recently asked me what my “marker” numbers are. For the life of me, I can’t remember. Another newbie cancer person was talking about her Oncotype DX number – and it’s a vast darkness in my brain. As I toss and turn in bed, I remember at 12:05 a.m. that its the anniversary of my initial diagnosis – I’m sorry the test shows that you have three lumps in your breast, plus it looks like its spread to your sternum and lymph nodes. I knew it was bad, the radiologist had given it away earlier……it was about 5:45 pm and he had to get to the airport……he snapped at me,”I don’t know why your surgeon is so interested in your breast, I’d be more concern about that large holes in your breast bone” as he inserted a needle into my lymph nodes playing darts with my underarm as he tried to hit the target. Why can’t I remember my marker…..troubles me? At first, I want to say……ah ha, it’s 8 – but that’s not it. That’s my cell differential, I scored an 8 out of 9. Two years, interesting…..I was only given 18 months and now it’s two years. Ain’t dead yet – ha!
Wow, so many friends and family have started their own little cancer journey since I started mine. Two mothers, a friend, a cousin, my father. There have been joyous outcomes, recent unknown starts and my own ever uphill crawl. I’ve made friends with others like me, we’ve sat next to each other waiting for our blood to be drawn, hoping to get a good chair, sharing our most embarrassing throw up for the week story – mine, throwing up green slime in the parking lot of Bank of America after a dear friend drove me to Seattle for treatment. Why is puke always green? While I’ve watched others being declared “cancer free”, I trod onward.
I still have cancer, I still go for treatments, I still wonder why me, I still wish that it would end. Two years ago, I worked 10 to 12 hours a day, could get groceries, pick up the dry cleaning, pick the children up from daycare, write a check with the best of them to keep my house clean, could sew, knit, read, run upstairs and down a million times at my girls bed time, make my children laugh, feed the dog and love my husband. Now, I don’t work. Walking is laborious - I shuffle along like Arte Johnson’s old man from his Laugh-In days. Running is out of the question. Grocery shopping is a stretch, dry cleaning is out. I can’t clean my house, I can do wash, but can’t fold it. My dogs starve.
But I still can make my children laugh and love my husband. Yep it’s bad. But it’s been 24 months not 18. Getting a little sleepy, but still can’t remember my marker…..darn it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)