{this moment}

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. One 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(s)' in the comments for all to find and see.

Timing is everything

at least for me.

Two days ago I was stressed out to the max and ready to quit radiation.  My only qualm (as with everything) is that Peter still felt it was for the best and that I would be able to not only make it through, but do so without the horrifying side effects I used to find* (did you read that: used to find) on Google.

After my near-breakdown this weekend, I felt enough was enough.  I was not some sort of strong, brave person who could deal with this sort of thing.  I was tired of feeling like I was killing any good left inside my chest and simply wanted out.  I know I was supposed to come to this conclusion prior to beginning the sessions, but that simply isn't my luck.

Peter pushed me to make it until Tuesday, since that is the day we normally meet with the doctor. Thanks to oodles of bad traffic, I was nearly late and by the time I changed, it was my turn.  Unlike last week, I was having a treatment first and then meeting with the doctor.  There was not much I could do and I settled myself into the cold, hard slab and just…cried.

Yup, I cried (and, oh, goody, the techs probably caught it on film).  I couldn't come close to a contemplative, much less meditative state and gave up.  I did manage to keep myself from shaking too much, lest I fry other parts unnecessarily.  A few minutes later, it was all over and time to meet with the doctor.

I managed to change first, which salvaged some dignity for me.  Somehow meeting while still dressed in the robe (there's generally no exam) just adds insult to injury.  Peter and I huddled in the room, I alternated between trying to finalize my decision and bursting into tears.  I finally calmed myself, as I didn't think the doctor needed to see my outburst and then just as she walked in….

She immediately expressed concern and asked if I was okay.  I managed to explain that this wasn't the cakewalk I expected, I was having a difficult time with the entire process and I just wasn't sure I could continue.  Rather than lecture me, Dr. R. simply asked how I would feel if I were to stop now and then had a recurrence in 5 years.

Honestly?  I just don't feel I would be that upset.  Disappointed maybe, but I wouldn't blame it on not finishing radiation.  A. I don't believe it will happen, B. (more importantly) radiation does not completely reduce the risk…so theoretically, according to the doctors, there is still a small chance of something coming back.     

I explained all of the above, she nodded her head in understanding and said, "Well, if it's that stressful, then it's better to stop now."

No lecture, no eye-rolling, no yelling, just calm and reasonable.  Peter, who had been mostly listening at this point, then decided it was his turn.  He knew one of the big stressors was the timing of the appointments.  Having to get the kids up early, out of the house way early, and most importantly, pay for extra daycare was weighing heavily on me.  I also have to deal with a good deal of traffic (45 minutes or so after I drop off Nick) and it was just getting to be too much.

He offered a brief but detailed explanation of me feeling like I was putting us in a financial bind with the entire scenario.  From his early departure from Iraq to all of the unexpected expenses, I felt like every dollar spent, whether on daycare or gas to get me to treatments was wasteful spending…money that we should be spending on other things or simply saving.

Dr. R. seemed to get it and offered that perhaps she could be of assistance.  Another patient had a slightly later time and maybe that would ease the stress of getting in.  She left to converse with him/her and Peter stopped to ask me how much of my stress was tied up in the financials or even with the timing and how much was truly the treatments.  When it came right down to it, I realized it was probably 60% the treatments and 40% the drive and timing.

Five minutes later Dr. R. was back with the stellar news that the patient was happy to switch and I need not be at the center until 9:30 a.m. on Wednesday.  We could all 'sleep in', Nick would go to school at his normal time and the drive might be a tad bit less hectic.  I agreed to see if it helped at all, as it was only one more day and we left feeling a tiny bit less encumbered.

This morning wasn't exactly like clockwork, but we all woke up and got out of the house in a somewhat timely manner.  The drive wasn't fabulous, but I had left the house 10 minutes later than I should have.  I still arrived basically on time (just not early), and headed in feeling already quite a bit better.  

As I walked in, I was stopped by an older woman that I recognized from the waiting area.  She had a grandmotherly presence and kindly asked how long I had been coming there.  I replied that it had been about two weeks.  She just looked at me, smiled and said, "Honey, don't worry, it's gonna be okay."

Hmm, guess everyone knows I'm a stress basket?

Despite not being early, I had plenty of time for the skin check photo (don't worry, no slide show forthcoming, just for personal reference), the quick change and a good 5 minutes in the waiting room with Words With Friends (insert huge thank you to Jill, Christy, Heather, Bethany, and, of course, Pete, for helping to distract me by kicking my bum in said game).  The tech soon arrived to take me back.  

I climbed up on the table, managed chit-chat about the rain and after turning my head, put myself in meditation mode.  I did my best to avoid the buzz of the machine and soon it was over.  No tears, no stress and I realized I felt like I could go Thursday and perhaps have a similar experience.   More importantly, if I didn't, I could still make the decision to stop.  In fact, I could do that at any time…take each and every day as it comes, and if at some point it is suddenly too much, that will be that.

Today was not that day.  I thought it might be, but as I was leaving, I found myself asking the tech, "Same time tomorrow?"

"Same time, it's all yours," she said, grinning as usual.

"See you then," I said, walking off with my bag slung over my shoulder.

She quickly returned with, "See you tomorrow!"

I turned the corner, headed to the changing room and for the first time in two weeks, I left the center feeling nearly carefree.

 *a late-in-the-game Lenten promise…give up Googling stuff related to you-know-what

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

or in my case, radiate, slather & stretch (x8-10), repeat.

Treatments started on Thursday, March 31, and tomorrow will be session 8.  While I would like to say it has been smooth sailing, I am not quite there yet. I freak out from the moment I wake up until about two hours later when I arrive at the hospital.  

I check in with my little blue card, get changed, wait in the waiting area and freak out even more.  By the time the tech arrives, I am close to a complete and utter mess.  I have two techs who alternate working with me and have them convinced I am 'just not a morning person'.  The reality is that just going in each day has me close to a nervous breakdown.

Should I be?  Probably not, but that's the way it is for me.  I am doing everything possible in order to prevent damage from the radiation, but still fret for the fun of it.  From the moment I finish each day's treatment (which lasts a whopping 5 minutes), I am doing yoga stretches and slathering on the calendula in the changing room.  Since I am still in training for the Couch to 5 K in order to run with Kelsey on May 15, I generally head to the gym immediately following a session.

Since it has been maybe 45 minutes since I left the hospital, I slather on more calendula, then either run or do a warm-up, followed by weights and stretches.  These activities are, of course, followed by a slathering of the calendula and more stretches.  I drive home, shower more carefully than I ever have in my life (lest a drop of hot water burn my already sensitive skin), pat my skin dry and (drum roll) stretch and slather on the calendula.  

My afternoon is then stretch, slather, play with Nicholas, stretch, slather, plan dinner, stretch, slather, help the girls after school, stretch, slather, drive to an activity, stretch, slather, make dinner, stretch, slather, help get kids to bed, stretch, slather, work around the house, stretch, slather, relax, stretch, slather, bed.

Now some of you might think, ahem, overkill?  Nope, not possible.  I am sure I will soon bleed calendula if I get a cut (which will instantly heal), but I am not giving the side effects of radiation one chance to rule my life.  I will NOT deal with fibrosis or massive burns simply because I didn't want to deal with a few extra minutes of skin care or stretching.  Given that most of the stretches are simple and can be done standing in line at the grocery store (don't worry, I do look first to ensure I don't smack anyone), it would be silly do not do them as much as possible.  

I do limit myself to 2-3x a day for the 'official' stretches that the doctor gave me, but only as they require the use of the yoga ball and I must be at home or the gym for them.  And the calendula?  I have one tube with me at all times and 3 or more at home and apply every 1-2 hours at a minimum. We won't know the extent of the power of the calendula until the end, but if I believe it is staving off extra burning, who is to say it isn't?  I have only had 7 treatments, so not really at a point where I will notice much of a difference (though I do like to freak out in bad lighting, seeing a bright pink that simply doesn't exist).

I now have a mere (ha) 18 treatments left and am already quite over them.  I had a bit of a fit on Friday and decided I was completely finished.  I've since realized I was just extremely exhausted (think lack of sleep and running) and stressed and decided to give it one more go tomorrow.  It's not an easy schedule, as it is extremely early in the morning and everything must run like clockwork for it to happen.  We all have to get up at the crack of dawn so Kelsey can go to a friend's house, Nicholas can get to early daycare and I can then drive 45 minutes while stressing about the reason behind it.  

Perhaps if I weren't training for the 5K, things would be a bit different.  Maybe I wouldn't worry about possibly being tired from the treatments.  If summer wasn't right around the corner, I wouldn't stress about my skin as much (trying not to think of the damage I am doing….).  Easter is also coming up and I realized I have few if any plans and feel once again like I am letting the kids down.  What else is new, right?

I'd really like to say that I am just going to take in one day at a time, but I can't yet.  I have been able to do that with regard to other concerns, but I'm having trouble with the treatments.  I don't know why, but I simply can't believe that in the end, it will all be okay and I will be no worse off than in the beginning.  If only I had that magic mirror that allowed me to see my skin 6 months from now or confirmation that the treatments were actually doing good…maybe then it would seem worthwhile.

With that, it is time for my last nightly stretching session before I slather again….before I wake up, get all the gears at home in motion and head to the hospital.  Before I check in, already sweating bullets and change into the awful gown and robe uniform.  Before I sit in the waiting area, nervously stressing over Words With Friends, praying the tech isn't there saying it's my turn…before I go in, nearly undress and lay down on the table so the tech(s) can align my body for ten minutes and then finally tell me to turn my head.  I know at that point, it is only moments before the radiation will shoot out into my breast and I start praying that it's doing more good than harm…and then try to take myself away, anywhere.  I spend the next 5-7 minutes trying to put myself on the beach at Assateague Island (covered up, of course), watching the kids play, hearing the waves crash on the sand and trying not to remember the 25 sessions of sunburn 101.

Then I get up, get changed, slather & stretch, go the the gym, go home and try not to think about how I get to do it all over again tomorrow.  May 5 will not be here soon enough.

{this moment}

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. One 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(s)' in the comments for all to find and see.

Rather than focus on the

negative, such as a possible federal government shutdown (yes, Peter is excepted and will be working should it happen), I am trying to think of happy, fun things.  Whether I will get to participate in such events is a whole 'nother matter, however, one can dream, right?

Yesterday, a friend shared a link to a page on this bit of news.  Not an hour later, I received an urgent (to me) message from Dr. Salty Dog regarding the very same issue:  A Little House on the Prairie Reunion Cruise.  Seriously?  Oh, my, yes.

Some of you may never have read (shame on you) the series, but I fell in love with it.  I also adored the show because as a child, I was absolutely convinced that if I could magic my way into the television, I could also run carefree in the prairie and have gorgeous hair that didn't end up in stubby, awful braids (unless it was two feet long).  I longed to toss the pig bladder, find homemade dolls in my stocking and listen to Pa's tales.  Now, I may just get my chance (well, for some of the aforementioned)!

Actually, I don't exactly know how many pig bladders will be tossed, but there will be at least 12 original cast members and I am hoping maybe a few more will sign on?  Yes, it's a cruise, not normally my thing, but being able to rub elbows with Almanzo for seven days? Sign me up!

Naturally, I thought this would be a great way to spend a week with Peter.  After all, what man wouldn't find utter joy in spending 7 days with Nellie and friends?  It's not like we'd all be stuck in a one room school house together!  

I then decided to mention the cruise to Caitlin.  I held off at first, but knew she would never forgive me if she learned I withheld such information.  While it would be a stiff competition, there is a possibility she could outrank me as a Little House on the Prairie fan.  After all, as much as I loved the books, Cait took her love to a new level with her 4th grade report on Laura and her life.  Oh, and please excuse the modern looking medical device.  We wanted it to be authentic and all, but cast removal would cross a line of sorts.

Cait's response to the cruise news:  I'm still scraping her off the ceiling.  If I went without her, have a feeling I'd find a stowaway at the airport.  Now off to put my $1/day into my cruise fund and pray for a lottery windfall (or at least a paycheck in two weeks…).

The photo is circa October 2007.  If you don't remember the story behind the cast (*shudder*), you can read more about it here.

Back in The Saddle Again

Last night we hosted had a party of 9 for our new 9 year-old, Kelsey D.  Without a doubt, the fiesta went off without a hitch.  Despite my worries that we would run out of food (best remember to freeze the extra bacon), we had more than enough everything, to include fantastic home-made cupcakes courtesy of Dr. Crafty Salty Dog and the Other Jen (Super Cake Lady).  

I was a bit worried when I had trouble waking up Saturday morning, as we still had much to do.  I also realized that since I was not stressed about heading to a treatment appointment, I could actually sleep.  Therefore, Peter and Nick 'cleaned' while I caught a few extra winks.  They took care of the mid-level, I finished up the basement and by early afternoon I was running grocery and decoration errands.  

We decorated with a few balloons and paper streamers to cheer up the dining room.  The kitchen was the crafting and cooking area, and thus a constant hub of activity.  We began cooking at 5 p.m. to ensure the girls could eat by 6:30 or so and by 5:58, the first girl had arrived.  Nicholas and Peter left for their guys night out and the girls trickled, stowed their sleeping bags in the basement and headed up to congregate and play in Kelsey's room. 

Once most of them arrived, we pulled out the craft of "decorate your own wooden door hanger." They loved this project and finished in time to enjoy chocolate chip and plain pancakes, homemade potatoes and bacon (cooked in the oven…so much easier and less mess!).  We followed up dinner with the A-Mazing cupcakes and even Nick joined in the fun, as GNO ended quite early (we suspect he knew cupcakes were on the agenda and he couldn't miss them…).

The last event of the night was popcorn and a movie.  I caved on the popcorn and did microwave for the ease and the lack of the need for firefighters since I tend to scorch it.  I generally let Cait make it, but she was busy enjoying the party, too.  Everyone (including Nicholas), headed to the basement, arranged their pillows and sleeping bags and settled in for a viewing of Tangled.

An hour and twenty minutes later, the moms and dads arrived to pick up tired, but happy kids.  Despite my worries that A.  no one would like my cooking B.  the kids would not enjoy for some (any) reason, it all went extremely well.  Not overdoing it and giving them plenty of free time just to play and chat worked well as always and keeping things simple worked well for me.

As usual, I stressed too much…not because the kids wouldn't be fine, but due to me feeling like I just wasn't up to it.  I didn't want to disappoint Kelsey, and needed to prove to myself that we could pull off a simple, fun party at home with the help of a few friends.  I definitely can't say I did the lion's share (we all know who did the majority of the work, from cupcakes to favors), but was so glad we did something at home.  I finally felt like we were opening up our house and giving back a bit to other parents who had helped us over the past few months.  It's not the huge party we'd like to throw (might be in the works for a while), but it's a start.

It’s no joke:

tomorrow we are having a party.  In fact, one might say it is the first true event we have hosted in our new home.  We won't go into the why of us not hosting a shin-dig sooner, though I'll give you a hint:  has to do with boxes and unpacking the basement.  Anywho, Kelsey wanted a party for her birthday and since the animal shelter party costs $200 AND caps the guest list at 15, well…I found the mojo I needed to re-organize the basement via shoving boxes in the garage…neatly…I think.

Now, once we decided to host said party, I realized we needed a theme of sorts.  Nothing fancy, no blow-up palaces or clowns, just an idea a bit beyond cupcakes and ice cream.   Kelsey immediately came up with a fabulous thought and shared with me that this would be the ideal year for a sleepover.  Suddenly, the animal shelter/limited list idea had overwhelming appeal.

When consulting with my party planner extraordinaire, she mentioned a 'faux pajama party'.  I had heard of this idea before, but always discounted it as silly.  Why have a pajama party if you aren't going to let the kids have all the fun of spending the night?  Suddenly visions of sleeping bags everywhere, hands in bowls of water, parents being iffy about sleepovers, 3 a.m. meltdowns and OMG, what if one of them got sick?! popped into my head.

Thus the theme of Kelsey's party was born.

Tomorrow night at 6 p.m. a hoard, I mean, 18 (we think, since only 6 have actually RSVP-ed and 2 can come if they don't "move to New Jersey") of Kelsey's nearest and dearest will descend upon the house jammified with sleeping bags and stuffed animals in hand.  We will decorate cosmetic bags*, nosh on free-range pancakes, potatoes & bacon, eat cupcakes that are going to be A-Freaking Mazing (The Other Jen** & Dr. Salty Dog are creating probably as I type…) and watch a movie.  Then, precisely at 9 p.m., the cupcakes turn into pumpkins and everyone heads home leaving us with a happy and tired Kelsey (and maybe one friend to spend the night) and a Jen who only needs to worry about a Little Guy waking her up in the middle of the night.  

The invites? I would LOVE to claim the creativity and folding talent that went into those…but guessing you already know who crafted up that idea!

*To clarify, no make-up will be harmed at this party.  The cosmetic bags are merely more of a reusable party favor and will hold those eye-pillow thingies, as we couldn't locate enough pillowcases to decorate.

**A friend and another cake-decorator and perfect party planner.

I just couldn’t decide

{these moments} – A Friday ritual. Two photos – no words – capturing moments from the week. Two simple, special, extraordinary moments. Moments I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment(s)' in the comments for all to find and see.

 (My indecision:  The cat and his new hangout)

(or what happens when one 'eats' a mocha?)