Spooky (or Boo-ky) Suprises

Nicholas has trouble saying spooky, so it often comes out sounding like "booo-ky."  Christmas lights are still "pretties" and Halloween decorations, particularly gory ones, have become "spookies."   Nothing surprising there, but we did have one shocking thing happen today:  I manage to have one of those now rare "Life is Good" days.  Yes, I know it happens from time to time, but after the past week, I was not expecting anything remotely uplifting so soon.

I simply was not at all looking forward to Halloween.  It was highly anticipated until a few weeks ago, and then I just lost all interest.  Sad, because Halloween is "our" holiday.  We even planned Peter's R&R around it, as we all love the dressing up, decorating the house, putting up lights, hanging skulls from trees and playing spooky music for hours on end.  However, by yesterday morning I was completely ignorant of everything Halloween related.  

No candy had been purchased and whatever decorating that had taken place was courtesy of the kids.  I simply lost every ounce of interest and would have been thrilled for it to come and go without one iota of participation on my part.  Then we headed out to Annapolis to a friend's house last night for a pre-Halloween party.

I was a bit of a grumpy gus (internally), but still tried to enjoy myself.  I was surrounded by a few new folks who didn't know me (or my "history") and it gave me a night to ignore the situation.  The hostess, also a friend of the Salty Dogs, is a fabulous cook and treated us to gourmet delights all evening long.  She even offered the girls pre-gutted pumpkins for carving delights (a good 2 hour activity there) and Nicholas spent the evening alternating between the sand pile, the toys and the hummus.  

We were all appropriately exhausted after a few hours and headed home, with most of us heading to bed early (excepting me, of course).  We were up early as Kelsey had to sing in the church choir, which was followed by Sunday school.  Cait then had a CCD party in the early afternoon, I had a "yummy food party" to attend and the kids and Pete still had to shop for Halloween treats.

I didn't expect it, but apparently the yummy food party was exactly what the doctor ordered.  Getting out of the house, not focusing on the issue at hand, stuffing myself with treats (and ordering quite a few) made the day a bit brighter.  Then I noticed the hostess's family members were busy decorating for Halloween…and I am not sure what clicked, but suddenly I couldn't wait to get home and do the same.

I arrived home before the kids and managed to get the cool wall stickers up, find the lights and cobwebs, and find all of the necessary candles for the luminaries.  The rest of the crew soon appeared and joined me in the fun.  Before I knew it, the house had a bit of a spooky air, and I could almost smell the fun the kids were set to have.

Our neighborhood held a block party for several hours prior to the commencement of trick or treating and we finally met a few of our neighbors that we don't always see during the day.  The kids played up and down the block until night fell and we hurried home to get the Halloween bags and to prep the candy for the onlslaught.

Realizing that Nicholas's haul should probably be kept small, we hit two streets as a group. After the second round, the Little Guy and I were ready to head home and dole out candy with Scary Daddy.  The girls went around the neighborhood by themselves (woot!), and we waited on the front stoop with Peter for 45 minutes with nary a treater.  Finally, as we were loading up to head to our friends' house to view their amazing decorations, a few stopped by…but nothing like what we expected.  Extra candy, anyone?

Our Halloween night then finished up at Jack & Janet's house.  They are long-time friends who are known for their terrific Halloween displays that grow more grandiose each season.  Sadly, I am not known for my photography skills, so you will not get the complete picture.  However, it was not just their house that was uber-decorated;  the entire neighborhood participated, so the girls ran off and enjoyed raking in even more loot.  Nicholas, on the other hand, decided to hang around and chat with Jack and admire his talent with Halloween decor.  

We finally realized it was well past a certain LG's bed-time,  bade our farewells and drove home.  The Little Fireman was sleeping soundly in full gear upon our arrival at home, and even had a lollipop clutched tightly in his hand. A rather thrown together, last-minute sort of day and yet, it was absolutely perfect for a change.  Now for an appropriately scary movie and a bit of Thai take-out to round out the day…and the real trick?  To figure how to keep the happy go lucky, even keel bit going. Oh, and yes, look closely at the above picture…that is a real smile (slightly strained, but real) on my face…who knew it was still possible?

*If you are wondering about Cait's costume, she was Annabeth from Rick Riordan's  Camp Half-Blood series.  She worked on the costume for months and even requested the Yankees cap as a birthday gift.  The coup of the night?  While hanging out with Jack and Janet, several trick or treaters (about her age) stopped by.  As they ran away, one of them shouted, "Hey, did you see Annabeth?"  After worrying for ages no one would recognize her, she was over the moon with excitement that her simple and relatively inexpensive costume was spot-on!

We have a date

DISCLAIMER:  This post may seem extremely negative and hypercritical.  I have debated not posting it, but since many of you have been supportive of posting my feelings regardless of the 'rawness', I have decided to go ahead with it.  Please note that there will be a follow-up post and there also may be a change in attitude.  Last, but not least, please do not forget that any and all feelings are still due to the sledgehammer that hit my life three weeks ago and I am still dealing with the myriad of feelings, good and bad, that accompany such an event.

for the surgery and frankly, I'm scared to death.  While I have accepted that surgery is the best route to start, it's nothing short of an execution date (of sorts) in my mind.  It's the end of this fabulously normal life I have been living and as much as I realize this particular change is necessary, the entire procedure and possible outcomes have me shaking in my boots.  However, considering how I felt at the beginning of the week, even that is a significant upgrade.

We began the week with a visit to a support person near the hospital where I will have surgery.  Peter and I met with C.  in the early afternoon.  Frankly, I was not eager as I was feeling very nervous about the possible follow-up treatments to the surgery (okay, STILL feeling that way) and had no desire for yet another person to try and convince me that they are in  "my best possible interests." So very tired of hearing that phrase.   Peter was also somewhat desperate to meet with her as he felt perhaps she could finally convince me that I should shirk the guilt that I feel over the entire situation.

We met, Peter exchanged pleasantries with her and it went uphill for him and downhill for me.  He ran through my history and then immediately touched on my concerns, from extra treatments to my guilt over the diagnosis and the how it would affect our lives.  She temporarily ignored the treatments (for which I was glad) and jumped right onto the guilt.  She wanted to know why I would feel guilty about 'being sick' and both Peter and I tried to explain about our lifestyle.  He discussed his current tour and then tried to explain how I was upset about possible treatments interfering with our future plans.

C. asked  it mattered if we could not leave the country in August (as we had hoped to do). Peter and I both tried to explain about our lifestyle, how we had planned everything so carefully, and had counted on departing for a new overseas post, as a family, no later than early fall of 2011.  She then asked why we simply couldn't wait or postpone, as after all, isn't my health paramount? (Insert how I still don't 'feel' sick here!)

NOTE: A lot of my angst about this situation is tied to the fact that we love our lives in the Foreign Service and desperately want to live overseas again as a family.  As there are fewer positions (the higher one goes) overseas in my husband's career track, we did everything we could to have the opportunity next year.  Even the unaccompanied tour was going to be leverage towards this overseas posting.  Now, due to my illness, everything is (in my opinion) in jeopardy.   Some folks like want the same house forever with the white picket fences…which is fine.  We, however, love the excitement and craziness of our current life and I can only blame myself for what will likely be the outcome of this current tour. I have nothing against our home country, but we didn't join the FS to live in the U.S. year after year.

I certainly don't fault her concern, but I was at my limit.  I gathered everything I had, all of my love of living overseas, all my ammunition about why were were so dedicated to this lifestyle and it came out in what could have been the most award winning moment of my life:

"Because I want to leave this flipping country!"

Um, yeah.  Follow that up with curling into a ball on a very uncomfortable office chair and bawling your eyes out and said award goes bye-bye.  Instead you might get a look that says you are flat off your rocker.  Peter was less than thrilled with my response, to say the least.

He did his best to make amends on all accounts, but I was livid.  We managed to get through the rest of the meeting by reviewing my now confusing (at best) diagnosis and going back and forth on whether a surgery date had been scheduled, if our date of choice could be had and being handed a slew of information on support groups.  We finally finished and then headed upstairs to the surgeon's office to finalize the surgery date…or so we thought.  

Unfortunately, the person we needed was on the phone and we realized we would never have a chance to talk with her.  We realized I also needed a follow-up appointment with the surgeon and could simply set the date then.  Luckily, we were able to snag a visit for the next morning.  Nothing like starting off the day with a trip to yet another doctor.

The appointment started off quietly enough with the standard exam.  Peter then reviewed some of our questions, and all went well until we started discussing future treatments.  Granted, nothing will be final until the surgery, but we questioned why chemo and radiation (remember what I didn't want to discuss last week?) suddenly seemed not only back on the table, but nearly definite.   I got the standard "You are so young, we need to be aggressive" answer that has done nothing but annoy the heck out of me.  

The real problem is that I am just tired of this entire situation.  I have been inundated with nothing but (mostly) bad news for the past three weeks.  Our lives have been turned upside down and we are in limbo indefinitely.  I am beginning to think there should be some sort of comprehensive list of doctors who "get" the Foreign Service.  It still didn't seem to click  that this is more than just an inconvenience in our schedule, but that we are going to have to revamp our lives in so many ways.

I also don't think it was understood why I was nervous about some of the side effects of the surgery. From swollen limbs from lymph node removal (if needed) to infections, I am simply freaked. The statistics scare the bejeezus out of me, especially considering that this surgery is not something I requested or desire.  I finally just let Peter continue with his line of questioning. We did get confirmation that while it is still the more drastic surgery,  it will be skin-sparing (but, sadly, nothing else).  We finally finished up the appointment with date discussion and got the happy news from the front desk that *maybe* we would know by Friday.

We escaped the office and stopped to have a coffee and review the less than stellar appointment. Our disagreements over what should happen still continued (I fear lymph node removal, not surprisingly, he doesn't) and we had to agree to disagree.  We picked Nicholas up on time for a change (a miracle as of late) and managed to catch up with a friend for a bit in the early afternoon.

It wasn't the best day, but by evening things had become calmer.  Cait had her first school concert of the year and it was a distraction I desperately needed.  I have had this feeling of late that I have "patient" tatooed on my forehead.  From the frequent trips to the hospital, the nerve-wracking discussions about our future and the thoughts about potential treatments, I haven't been able to focus on anything but this situation.  Cait's concert changed that for two whole hours, and I was able to simply be her mom and we ignored everything "BC" related until we got home.  More arguments, more disagreements, and little or no sleep to be had.  Despite all of that, I was still willing and almost eager to meet with Dr. X the next morning.  After all, his job is to make me look better, rather than, well….

Our wait was not quite as long and the visit much shorter and we even had a surprise.  We had not heard so much as a peep out of the surgeon's office, yet the minute Dr. X walked into the exam room, the words "So, we have a date!" flew out of his mouth.  Um, we do?

Sure enough, the surgeon's office had set the date, but we had not received a phone call.  In the end, it didn't really matter, as it was the date we requested, but still…   The visit with Dr. X was fairly routine with measurements taken, a nice pre-surgical photo op (cringe), and a few words of comfort.  He was sure that my side effects would be minimal, I would not have abnormal swelling issues (thus helping me stress less about the possible node removal) and answered question after question about reconstruction.  Due to the possibility of future treatments, it will not be at the same time as the surgery…could be a few months from now, it could (gulp), be next summer.    

We also received the happy news that since I am not having reconstruction at the same time, I have much more flexibility.  I have more time to research my options and can even opt for a temporary implant if we need to delay the 'official' surgery for any reason.  I suppose, ideally, I would do it all at once, but I think the extra time to come to terms with the nature of the primary surgery will be good for me.  For once a visit I could tolerate..and how does one follow that up?

*At some point I may reveal names, but for now I am granting those helping me a certain bit of anonymity.  I do highly recommend Dr. X and will gladly share his name off-line.  

{this moment}

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see. 

Wishing everyone a fantabulous Halloween weekend!

*** *** *** 

idea courtesy of Soulemama…if you have a moment, please leave a comment and a link!

*Not to ruin with an explanation, but LG had asked if he could eat his oatmeal in the living room.  I reminded him that we eat in the kitchen.  He then came up with his own creative arrangement to satisfy both our desires.

I Never Knew I’d….

Becky of Small Bits is hosting the Round-Up again this week and will do a fabulous job, so don't forget to stop by on Friday.  I am sure there are many far more interesting stories I could capture from our past, with the theme of "I never knew I'd," however, only a few are jumping out at me.

I never expected to touch a glacier or give birth overseas.  I never knew I would one day crave the idea of moving every two to three years and didn't really envision living across the country much less around the world.  I knew I wanted children, but it didn't occur to me that they might not all grow up in the same house, measuring their height each year on the kitchen wall.  

I never thought I would have more trouble adjusting to the U.S. than I would to living overseas.  I never ever imagined the spine-tingling anticipation that a sheaf of paper could give me every two to three years as we pondered the posts of our future and perhaps the craziest "I never" out there?

I never, ever, in my wildest dreams thought I would say, "I wish my husband was still overseas on his unaccompanied tour."  Yet, that is exactly what I have stated every day for the past three weeks as Peter was not slated to arrive home on his R&R until this morning.  We have loved having him here, but each day his presence has been a bittersweet reminder of the new direction our lives are taking.

I also never knew I would be part of such an amazing community of people.  I have always known FS folks to be supportive of one another, but the past few weeks have been incredible.  Each and every day I am given a reminder of how lucky we are to have this crazy life and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

*The gorgeous flowers are courtesy of Peter's office and add quite the cheery touch to our family table.   Many thanks!

Instead of this, try…

This post is the third in a four part series in honor of National Breast Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I am collaborating with Dionna, who writes at Codename: Mama, and Sarah, who writes at Balancing Act and who authored What Not to Say. Cancer has touched the lives of all three of us:  I have recently been diagnosed with cancer, Sarah is a cancer survivor, and Dionna helped her grandmother live her last days peacefully at home after a battle with cancer. Chances are, cancer has touched your life or the life of someone you love, too. It is our hope that this series of posts will be a help and a comfort to you.

I hope you had a chance to visit Dionna's site on Monday and  Sarah's site yesterday for her thoughts on how to talk to young children about cancer.  Please come back to Code Name: Mama on Thursday for an interview with the Executive Director of Cleaning for a Reason, a non-profit dedicated to helping women undergoing cancer treatments.

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Three weeks ago, we seemed like a normal family.  Despite the fact that we had just moved across the country and that my husband was deployed to the Middle East for a year, everything was going swimmingly. Then one afternoon, two days after having a biopsy for a suspicious lump in my breast (found upon self-examination), my world turned upside down.  The words I never, ever thought I would hear hurtled over the phone lines to me:  "I'm sorry, but you have breast cancer."  I was stunned beyond belief and am still trying to come to terms with how our lives have been irrevocably altered.

I have also quickly learned how different it is to be on the other end of the spectrum of news sharing.  I have dealt with the illnesses and deaths of friends and family members, and until now always assumed I had the perfect or at least acceptable phrases for the occasion.  It wasn't until my recent diagnosis that I realized just how even the wording of one's reaction to the news that your friend or relative has cancer can affect them. 

The most natural answer may seem to be the best.  However, until you are in that person's exact situation, it is very hard to gauge how things will affect her.  While I have not had to deal with all of these comments personally, I know these are many of the first things that used to pop in my head when I heard about a new diagnosis.  Now that I am living through this scenario, I have realized there might be better options, having learned by those who have comforted me.

1.  Instead of this: It’s only a breast.

No, it's not.  It is a part of my body.  Whether I have always liked its size or shape, it has been much appreciated.  Yes, it may be a sexual object, but I also used it to nurture and feed my three children.  I am still nursing my youngest (he is 2.5) so it has not outlived its usefulness in the slightest.  I really cringe at the notion that I should suddenly want to toss away a part of my body that I have always enjoyed having.  It is a loss and I do need to mourn it.

Try:  I'm really sorry.  I can't imagine how you must feel right now.

The above is an open, honest answer.  I don't expect you to know how devastated I am, but appreciate the non-judgmental concern.

2.  Instead of this:  You must be really overwhelmed.  Please let me know what I can do to help.

There is nothing wrong with this statement at all, unless you happen to run into a stubborn, self-assured future cancer treatment patient who still thinks she can do it all herself.  I have quickly learned that I can't.  Just having a doctor's appointment in the morning can wear me out for the day, especially since life goes on in every other respect.

Try (no, DO):  I am bringing you chicken noodle soup, and I will include salad and a dessert.  I just need to verify you prefer that over stew and there are no allergy concerns.  How does Tuesday at 5:30 p.m. work for a drop-off?

I had plenty of offers for help, but didn't realize at first how much I needed them.  Then one friend very kindly insisted she was bringing us dinner THAT DAY.  She easily saved us two nights of cooking.  I have since come around and realize that it's okay to ask for assistance in a time such as this one.

3.  Rather than:  In a few years, you will forget this ever happened!

I will never forget this time period.  Due to the nature of my husband's career in the U.S. Foreign Service, this has irrevocably changed much for us for at least the next two years.   I am having trouble imagining making it through all of my appointments this week, and next year is completely out of the picture.

Try:  Take it minute by minute.  Don't try to imagine the future, congratulate yourself for taking each day as it comes.

"Take it minute by minute" is a piece of invaluable advice given to me by a friend who has dealt with something similar.  Given all of the decisions we have to make, trying to envision beyond next week is simply too difficult.

4.  Instead of:  If I were you, I would do x, y and z!  Why are you nervous?

I certainly understand this line of reasoning.  What person does not want to be strong for their friend, offer him or her the best possible advice and prove to them how easy it is to be firm in one's conviction?  The only problem is that with cancer, it is very hard to know the "right thing" to do, when there are so many conflicting (and, yes, sometimes scary) sources of information.  Even the best doctors may differ slightly in their opinion, just enough to worry a new patient. 

Try this:  Just listen.

Don't feel you have to have all of the answers or even any of them.  If you really ache to be supportive, but can't find the right words, say so. Offer that if you friend needs an ear, you can't tell them what to do, but are more than happy to be an outlet for venting.  Sometimes just getting a huge amount off one's chest with nothing more than a "that must be hard" in return is a huge relief.

5.  Instead of this: I wanted to call, but couldn't think of anything to say.

No one really knows what to say.  Even this advice here may not be on target for everyone.  Every person is different and giving your best shot is all you can do.

Try this:  I wasn't sure what to say, but wanted to call and let you know I am thinking of you.   By the way, did you hear the news about…?

I am not advocating gossip.  However, if your friend has missed work or recreational events, she may not be caught up on fun news.  The bonus?  It's a distraction for her. She may even continue to angle the conversation away from her health as she knows that life goes on and would really like to know what's going on in your world.

It’s always a tough call with illness, especially cancer.  Who wants to say the wrong thing and end up offending the person one is trying to help?  In the end, remember your friend simply needs support, and the important part is trying.  It is the effort that will be remembered years later and that is what matters.

How to Talk to Young Children About Cancer

I am teaming up with Dionna of Code Name: Mama and Sarah, who writes at Balancing and who authored What Not to Say  for a four part series in honor of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Yesterday, Dionna wrote about "how to help a parent who is undergoing cancer treatment." Please stop by to both get ideas on how to help someone you love who is struggling with a serious illness, and leave your own suggestions of how people can help. Today, Sarah is writing about how to talk to young children about cancer; tomorrow, I am writing about what to say (and what not to say) to those who are newly diagnosed with cancer; and on Thursday, visit Code Name: Mama for an interview with the Executive Direction of Cleaning for a Reason.

How to Help a Parent Undergoing Cancer Treatment

I am teaming up with Dionna of Code Name: Mama and Sarah, who writes at Balancing and who authored What Not to Say  for a four part series in honor of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Today, Dionna is writing about "how to help a parent who is undergoing cancer treatment." Please stop by to both get ideas on how to help someone you love who is struggling with a serious illness, and leave your own suggestions of how people can help. Come back all week for more: on Tuesday, Sarah is writing about how to talk to young children about cancer; on Wednesday, I am writing about what to say* (and what not to say) to those who are newly diagnosed with cancer; and on Thursday, visit Code Name: Mama for an interview with the Executive Direction of Cleaning for a Reason.

*This is not to say that I have received anything but the most thoughtful comments.  However, the entire situation has made me rethink things that I may have said in the past or might have considered in the future, had I not had this experience with breast cancer.  Any and all support I have received has been truly appreciated!

Three weeks

ago, we seemed like a normal family.  Despite that we had just moved across the country and that my husband was deployed to the Middle East for a year, everything was going swimmingly.  Then one day afternoon, two days after having a biopsy for a suspicious lump in my breast (I found upon self-examination), my world turned upside down.  The words I never, ever thought I would hear hurtled over the phone lines to me:  "I'm sorry, but you have breast cancer."  I was stunned beyond belief  and am still trying to come to terms with how our lives have been irrevocably altered.

We have had a family blog for quite some time, and my first instinct was to blog the news.  This turned out to be quite cathartic, and I have kept it up and plan to keep doing so for the foreseeable future. I quickly learned how different it is to be on the other end of the spectrum.  I have dealt with illnesses and death of friends and family members, and until now always assumed I had the perfect or at least acceptable phrases for the occasion.  It wasn't until my recent diagnosis that I realized just how even the phrasing of one's reaction to the news that your friend or relative has cancer can affect them. 

Since I am still in the very early stages of dealing with this disease, it seems appropo for me to tackle the subject of  "What to say" and "What not to say" to the newly diagnosed.  It might seem as the most natural answer is the best.  Perhaps you are a breast cancer survivor and really do have a very good idea of how the person might feel.  However, until you are in that person's exact situation, it is very hard to guage how this news is affecting them.  With that in mind, I have come up with a key phrases that can be tweaked just a bit to really let the concern you feel show through.    

1.  Instead of this:   It's only a breast.

No, it's not.  It is a part of my body.  Whether I have always liked its size or shape, it has always been a body part that I have very much appreciated.  Yes, it may be a sexual object, but I also used it to nurture and feed my three children.  I am still nursing my youngest (he is 2.5) so it has not outlived its usefulness in the slightest.  I really cringe at the notion that I should suddenly want to toss away a part of my body that I have always enjoyed having.  It is a loss and I do need to mourn it.

Try:  I'm really sorry.  I can't imagine how you must feel right now.  

The above is an open, honest answer.  I don't expect you to know how devastated I am, but appreciate the non-judgemental concern.

2.  Instead of:  You must be really overwhelmed.  Please let me know what I can do to help.

There is nothing wrong with this statement at all, unless you happen to run into a stubborn, self-assured future cancer treatment patient who still thinks she can do it all herself.  I have quickly learned that I can't.  Just having a doctor's appointment in the morning can wear me out for the day, especially since life goes on in every other respect.

Try (no, DO):  I am bringing you chicken noodle soup, and I will include salad and a dessert.  I just need to verify you prefer that over pasta and there are no allergy concerns.  How does Tuesday work for a drop-off?

I had plenty of offers for help, but didn't realize at first how much I needed them.  Then one friend very kindly insisted she was bringing us dinner THAT DAY.  She easily saved us two nights of cooking.  I have since come around and realize that it's okay to ask for assistance in a time such as this one.

3.  Rather than:  In a few years, you will forget this ever happened!

I will never forget this time period.  Due to the nature of my husband's career in the U.S. Foreign Service, this has irrevocably changed much for us for at least the next two years.   I am having trouble imagining making it through all of my appointments this week, and next year is completely out of the picture.

Try:  Take it minute by minute.  Don't try to imagine the future, congratulate yourself for taking each day as it comes.

"Take it minute by minute" is a piece of invaluable advice given to me by a friend who has dealt with something similar.  Given all of the decisions we have to make, trying to envision beyond next week is simply too difficult.

4.  Instead of:  If I were you, I would have you asked my doctor about this treatment! Why woudln't you want scary treatment x, y or z??

I certainly understand these questions.  What person does not want to be strong for their friend, offer him or her the best possible advice and prove to them how easy it is to be firm in one's conviction?  The only problem is that with cancer, it is very hard to know the "right thing" to do, when there are so many conflicting (and, yes, scary) sources of information.  

Try this:  Just listen.

Don't feel you have to have all of the answers or even any of them.  If you really ache to be supportive, but can't find the right words, say so.  Offer that if you friend needs an ear, you can't tell them what to do, but are more than happy to be an outlet for venting.  Sometimes just getting a huge amount off one's chest with nothing more than a "that must be hard" in return, is a huge relief.

5.  Instead of this: I wanted to call, but can't think of anything to say.

No one really knows what to say.  Even this advice here may not be on target for everyone.  Every person is different and giving your best shot is all you can do.

Try this:  I wasn't sure what to say, but wanted to call and let you know I am thinking of you.   By the way, did you hear the news about…?

I am not advocating gossip or anything similar.  However, especially if your friend has missed work or recreational events, she may not be caught up on fun news.  The bonus?  It's a distraction for her. She may even continue to angle the conversation away from her health as she knows that life goes on and would really like to know what's going on in your world.

I’m procrastinating

I'm supposed to be working on a fall project of sorts, but doing nothing but reunionizing (that IS a word) with friends from Iceland this morning and eating tons of yummy brunchy foods has taken a toll on my brain cells.  We were so exhausted this afternoon from sitting, talking, occasionally standing to try more goodies, more sitting, talking, chatting, laughing and reminiscing, that I am now not capable of nothing more taxing than a movie night with the girls.

It was such a great afternoon and so amazing that so many of us who served in Reyk were able to get together and enjoy one another's company.  Of course, the kids had grown a collective several feet since the last time most of us were together in such complete group and we have all moved once, if not twice to new and exotic places (Cali was new to us!).  The kids entertained one another for hours while the adults mingled and caught up and we left feeling with that fabulous feeling of all being right with the world.

I thought this afternoon would then be an ideal nap time, but it really ended up more of a chore hour, while Cait tended to Nicholas's needs.  Not only did they spend an hour crafting, but then she took him outside so he could spend another hour "shobelling" the leaves. Kelsey was at a Girl Scout Camping trip for most of the day, so it was very interesting to watch Cait and Nicholas interact throughout the day without the involvement of another sibling. So different with just two of them.

I did not end up accomplishing as much as I had hoped, but the kids were certainly busy.  Caitlin not only finished all of her Halloween cards, but the two of them made a ton of incredibly cute and creative Halloween decorations.  It's official:  she (thank goodness) did not inherit my lack o'crafting ability gene….*sigh* at least I helped with the supply purchase? Someday I will channel my inner Soulemama/Crafty Dog…

I’m blushing

Click here and you will see why.  I must admit, I may have cried a bit, but they were tears of happiness. So many FS bloggers, far and wide, shared their "where I am now" moments this week and many included pink for extra credit.   They showed their support for me and every other person (sadly, it doesn't just affect women) dealing with this dastardly disease.

We have also been humbled by the outpouring of offers for help.  Whether it would be with the kids, or scrumptious dinners being delivered to our doorstep, we are extremely thankful.  I had not realized until a week into this debacle just how exhausting the details of this sort of life-changing event can be.  Not having to cook several nights this week made our lives so much easier…even more important, we were able to finally meet one fellow FS blogger in person.  

Eve arrived on our doorstep on Sunday with enough yummy soup, stew and pie to keep us for several days.  Another friend stopped over Tuesday night and saved us on a day that the appointment at the plastic surgeon ran quite a bit longer than expected.  I thought up until then that I could just keep 'doing it all'…until I realized that even doing half of all is much harder when each day has something health-situation related that needs to be accomplished, in addition to everything else.

Today also had another bright spot, as I received a tiny bit of good news from the surgeon.  Nothing I should probably share yet, and I suppose the universe could shift and alter my reality (again), but it seems that the news we thought was so bad was not set in stone.  My doctor also neglected to mention (fearing it would upset me) a few details of the surgery.  Not hearing about them made me worry about the worst-case scenario.  

While I appreciate the concern, had I known the details (which, yes, we should have asked and just plain forgot, with our 80 other queries), it might have made life around here much less frustrating for the past two days. Peter was finally able to have a decent conversation with her regarding our concerns and was able to allay my fears concerning two, maybe even three of them. Confirmation should hopefully come next week, as well as *shudder* a date for surgery.  As much as I don't want do to this, I can't deny that the pain has not gone away.  After nearly two months, I am fairly sure it is a strong sign that even I can't ignore on my most "but I'm not sick!" days.

Now, please, click on the link above and peruse the blogs…..I promise you will be amazed by the show of support.   A huge debt of gratitude is also owed to Becky who came up with this week's idea and then worked to tirelessly to deliver a fabulous Round-Up!